You've never been much of an "alpha male", and frankly, you're fine with that. Your childhood is a classic tale: always last picked in school sports, struggled to make many guy friends, called every homophobic slur under the sun just for having basic hygiene. Despite it all, you ended up in an alright place—a quiet and unassuming existence.
Then, you met Kazuha, and your quiet and unassuming existence turned upside down.
"He ordered the chicken sandwich, not the burger," she scolds, dropping the tray of food onto the counter with enough force to send a couple fries flying.
You meekly tug her sleeve. "It's fine, really—"
"Hush, baby." In an instant, she shuts you up with a quick glance with those piercing eyes. "Let momma handle this."
"I'm so sorry, ma'am," the cashier says with his squeaky, prepubescent voice. "I'll have the kitchen put a rush on his chicken sandwich right away. Uh, may I interest you in a free dessert for your troubles?"
Kazuha turns to you, patiently waiting for your answer.
"Uh, I guess a vanilla milkshake wouldn't be so bad—"
"Vanilla milkshake," she repeats, leaning against the counter. "And no cherries. My boyfriend doesn't like cherries."
The cashier gulps, his Adam's apple practically disappearing in sheer terror. "U-uh, yes ma'am. No cherries. Understood."
"Good." Kazuha shoots him one final glare before taking your hand and leading you back to your booth.
"You didn't have to do that," you mutter. "I would've been fine with the burger."
She slinks into the seat across from you with a huff. "It's not what you ordered though. And I know how much you like the chicken sandwich at this place."
You shrug. "The burger isn't that bad."
"Then why didn't you order the burger?" She raises her brow in that "I'm right and you know it" kinda way that you're all too familiar with.
"Well…"
Kazuha reaches across the table and lifts up your chin, forcing you to meet her eyes. "Repeat after me: Thank you for fixing my order, Kazuha. You're the best," she says in a high-pitched voice.
You chuckle softly. "I don't sound like that."
"Say it."
"Thank you for—"
"Do it in the voice."
"Wha—I'm not gonna do t—"
"Do it!"
Her outburst attracts some unwanted attention from other tables, making you shrink in your seat. "Kazuha, people are looking…"
Her lips curl into that smirk—the one that never fails to make your heart do a somersault even after eight months of dating. "Aw, sorry," she brushes her thumb against your bottom lip, "did I embarrass you, baby?"
"W-whatever." You pull away before you do something that'll get both of you kicked out for overt PDA. "Thanks for fixing my order. You're the best," you utter flatly.
Kazuha sits back, arms behind her head and chin held high like those cool kids in old movies. "I know. I'm pretty fuckin' sick."
"And humble too."
The cashier from earlier drops off your food, making an effort to avoid looking Kazuha in the eye. "Here you go, is there anything else I can get you two?" he asks.
Kazuha looks over at you for an answer. "No, thank you," you say. You swear you see him breathe a heavy sigh of relief as he walks away. Poor guy.
"I feel bad," you unwrap your chicken sandwich, the one you ordered initially. "He's probably got enough things going on without us giving him grief."
"Relax babe, we're doing him a favor. Now he knows not to mess up people's orders," she points out, coolly tossing a fry into her mouth.
"Still," you linger on the flakes of salt on her lip for a second too long, "you know how badly service people are treated on the daily. I don't wanna add to that."
"Then don't. I'll do it for you," she smirks.
"Kazuha, that's not funny."
"What, I didn't laugh."
"Yeah, but you're smiling."
"I'm smiling because you're cute."
You bite your tongue, unwilling to give her the satisfaction of a grin. Unknowingly or not, she sets her food to the side and leans forward, eyeing you like a piece of art.
"Ugh, I hate when you do that," you mutter.
"Do what? I'm just lookin' at ya." Her eyes trace over your lips, and you wonder if she'll like the taste of that new chapstick you just bought.
"I'm trying to eat."
"Am I disturbing your eating?" You feel her foot press against your calf, drawing slow lines with the toe of her boot.
Trying to win against Kazuha is a sisyphean task. She does what she wants, and you follow her around like a loyal puppy. Behave well enough, she'll give you a treat—and just like any puppy, you like your treats.
"Not here, at least," you pout. "I haven't had a single thing to eat all day."
"Aww." She gives you one last drag against your leg before settling back into her seat. "Okay, I'll let you eat."
"Thank you."
Even then, you find your foot gently rubbing against hers as you eat. You can act annoyed all you want, but face it: you're completely smitten with Kazuha.
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"Baby?" Kazuha grabs a leather jacket off of the rack and holds it up to her torso. "What do you think?"
"I think," you sigh, "you have way too many leather jackets."
"What's wrong with that? I'm a collector."
"That looks exactly like the one you bought last week." You take a closer look at the oddly familiar looking tag. "I'm pretty sure that is the exact same one."
"Oh." She takes one last look at it before putting it back. "See, this is why I like having you around. I've probably saved, like, a billion dollars thanks to you."
"Whatever," you chuckle, linking your arm with hers. It's just common sense, you think, but the warmth of her compliment is leagues better than being right.
The two of you pass by racks and racks full of the new wave of summer trends. Personally, you've always been a fan of the fall—cardigans, sweaters, the ability to wear jeans without your legs feeling like tinfoil-wrapped burritos. You and summer are just a match made in Hell. Inevitably, it comes around to torment you for three months out of the year and you're forced to scramble for a wardrobe that won't burn you alive.
"See anything you like?" Kazuha asks.
You scan the men's section, grimacing at the typical suspects that plague the shelves—tank tops, cargo shorts, ugly graphic tees with abominations like "summer vibes" written all over them. "Not really."
"You sure?" She grabs a simple black tank top off the rack. "This one seems pretty nice."
You physically restrain yourself from rolling your eyes. Something like that would only look good on her, with her pretty arms that are deceptively strong, and when she flexes, you can see the shadows dance around her biceps, which reminds you of that one time she put you in a chokehold as a joke and you could feel her muscles pushing against your throat, and you were so mesmerized by the feeling that you forgot to fight back, and—
"Baby?" Kazuha shakes you out of your trance. "You okay?" she chuckles.
"I-I'm good." You wipe away the droplet of drool that almost leaked from your lips. "Let's keep looking."
Deeper and deeper through the men's section you go, yet nothing seems to tickle your fancy. Go figure. You knew looking for clothes this time of year would be futile, but Kazuha wanted to hang out and you already said yes before realizing how much of a waste of time this would amount to.
"Ugh, these all suck," you groan.
"Maybe we'd have found something by now if you weren't so picky," Kazuha points out, brow raised at you.
"Not all of us were born to look good in just about anything," you bite back with a cheesy grin. "Some of us have to put effort into looking nice."
"Hey, don't blame me for being sexy." She drapes her arm around your shoulders, and for a split second, you think she's going to put you into another chokehold. So close. "I don't want you overheating just because you're being stubborn, baby."
"I'm not being stubborn, I just—"
You glance over at the women's section and stop at one of the mannequins. It's wearing a simple outfit, fitting for the weather, but what catches your eyes is the skirt—floor length and ruffled, made of a pure white cotton that seems to dance, even on the still mannequin.
For one reason or another, you can't take your eyes off of it. It wouldn't be too hard to fit into your current wardrobe, and it's a much nicer alternative to the dull beige of all the cargo shorts that seems to infect every corner of the men's options. But, it's just—you're a guy, and Kazuha, well—you already wonder why she even likes you, and—
Kazuha follows your gaze. "Are you getting the hots for the mannequin?" she teases.
"W-what? No, I just—maybe we can find somewhere else to—"
She grips your hand before you have a chance to escape. "Hey, be honest with me." Her voice turns softer, more sincere compared to her usual mischief. "What's going on?"
"Nothing, I—" You peer into her round eyes. They're void of any kind of judgment or disgust, the usual reaction you expect when girls you're interested learn of your 'peculiar tastes'. "I just thought the skirt was pretty. That's all."
"Pretty on me, or pretty on you?"
"Well, of course you'd look pretty in it—"
"Hey." She tilts your chin up, the tip of her thumb pressing your bottom lip. You practically sink into her touch. Never have you felt a presence safer than Kazuha's.
"I… wanna try it on," you admit shyly. "Is that okay?"
She bares her pretty white teeth at you before pressing a soft kiss onto your lips. "Of course you can, baby. You don't need my permission to wear whatever you want."
Heat creeps up your cheeks like lava bubbling to the top of a volcano. "Thanks," you utter, biting back your excitement at the thought of looking pretty.
The second your staring at your reflection in the dressing room mirror, the ruffled skirt in your hands, it all starts to feel a little too real. Your first ever skirt. The thought has crossed your mind a handful of times before, but you never thought you'd actually get to this point. If it weren't for Kazuha and her charming eyes, this moment would just be another figment of your imagination.
You take a deep breath, and you put it on—it fits. Your reflection doesn't look half bad either. The breeze between your legs will take some getting used to, and you'll need to be wary of what color underwear you wear with these, but for now, you're just in awe of how good it looks. How good you look.
You do a little twirl for fun, giggling at the way the dress flows like petals on a blooming flower. Kazuha knocks against the dressing room door. "Did you try it on yet? I wanna see."
"Yeah! Come in."
As soon as Kazuha sees you, her expression drops. In that moment, worry starts to creep into your mind.
Does she not like it?
Does she not like you?
Will she leave just like the rest of them?
All your anxieties are laid to rest as Kazuha envelops you into a tight squeeze. "Holy fuck, my boyfriend is so pretty," she breathes, rocking you back and forth in her arms. You immerse yourself in her warmth, the kind of warmth that steadies your heart and quiets your mind; the kind you want to feel every day until you die.
"Does that mean you like it?" you ask.
"I love it," she says, pecking your lips. "I'm totally buying you every single color they have."
You chuckle at her enthusiasm. "Maybe we can just stick to this one for now? Until I get used to it, at least."
"That's fine with me." Her lips find yours once again, this one a little longer, a little more tender. "It really suits you, baby."
This kiss leaves you wobbly-kneed and blubbering, reduced to a puddle of lovestruck goop in her arms. Her strong, toned arms that you somehow fit perfectly in between.
"Let's hurry up and pay for it so I can take it off you later tonight," she winks, shutting the door behind her and leaving you to feel like the luckiest boy on the planet.
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The two of you kick off your shoes by the front door of your apartment, tossing the shopping bags haphazardly on your coffee table. Those will be for future you to deal with; right now, your feet are dead from all the walking and your body is in desperate need of a bed to collapse on.
"C'mon, c'mon, c'mon," Kazuha urges, dragging you to your bedroom. In there, she collapses back onto your bed, arms above her head and her eyes staring you down like a hawk to a little mouse. "Hurry up and take me, pretty boy."
"O-oh." You gulp. "You mean, like, right now? Um—"
"What's that?" Kazuha asks, a smirk growing on her lips. On your usually tidy desk, a small pile of crumpled tissues sits next to your closed laptop, and the memory of what you did last night hits you all at once.
"W-wait, it's not what it looks like—!"
"You little freak!" Before you have a chance to explain yourself, Kazuha jumps to her feet, grabbing at your laptop with the cunning of a fox. "Ooh, let's see what kind of perversions you were watching!"
"Kazuha, don't—"
She flips open your laptop, and on the screen lies a still of the last scene you had watched—a boy with cerebral palsy and his grandma overlooking the edge of a mountain.
"What?" Kazuha asks. "Where's the porn?"
"I wasn't watching porn," you sigh in embarrassment, "I was watching a movie."
She gasps. "An adult movie?!"
"No!"
Kazuha falls into a fit of giggles. Real mature of her.
"I was watching a… sad movie." You point at the pile of tissues. "I was crying…"
"Aw." She holds your head to her chest, kissing the top of your scalp. "Sorry, I didn't mean to make of fun of you for crying."
"It's fine." It's impossible to be upset with her when she feels this nice.
"Was it good? Can I watch it with you?"
"You want to? What about the whole, um, 'taking you' thing?"
She chuckles softly. "Maybe some other time. Walking around all day has got me feeling lazy." Kazuha crawls into your bed, cozying up under your covers. "C'mon, I wanna watch!"
You relent, following her onto your bed. "I might cry again."
"That's okay," she wraps you in her embrace, "mama's here."
You drag the little red dot all the way to the beginning and hit play, safe and sound in her arms.
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"Grandma?" Chunhe utters, cradling the box of his beloved cat's ashes in his arms.
"Hmm?" she replies.
"After you take me to school, I'll buy you a meal at the cafeteria."
His grandma smiles at him. "All right."
"And then," Chunhe continues, "Buy yourself a train ticket and go wherever you want. Go look around. Go have some fun. Let me walk the rest of my path my way. All right?"
His words may be slow or clumsy, but his sincerity cuts through like the sharpest blade, and his grandma knows this. No more is Chunhe the helpless little boy he once was; now, he stands tall against the prejudice that the world throws at him.
Even after knowing how it ends, it doesn't get easier the second time around.
She holds you to her chest, letting you sob your little heart out for what feels like forever. For every tear that falls, Kazuha is there with a brush of her thumb or a comforting kiss to pick up all the broken pieces that the movie left you in.
It feels unfair, undeserved, you think, to know such tenderness like it's home. In the original script, the roles would be reversed—Kazuha sobbing into your arms while you comfort her.
But they aren't. And even in this tenderness that you cherish so deeply, inklings of insecurities that you've long held still manage to seep through.
"Can I ask you something?" you say, wiping away at the last of your tears.
"What is it, baby?"
You breathe, slowly. "Why do you… why do you like me?"
She leans into you, the soft weight of her cheek resting on your head. "Hmm… Well, other guys just suck," Kazuha answers simply.
"Don't you ever wish I was more, uh, 'manlier' or something?"
"Hell no," she grimaces. "Those kinds of guys are the worst. I say one funny thing and they're all like 'Damn, your energy is different, for real!' and it's so annoying! I just have a personality!"
Kazuha holds you tighter, and it becomes clear just how much she wants you over any other guy. "Besides, I like my boys on the softer side." She kisses your damp cheek. "It means they have a soul."
The two of you share a chuckle, holding each other underneath the covers until the fatigue of today catches up to both of you. Your insecurities quelled, body warm, and heart undeniably owned by this miracle of a woman; for the first time in your quiet and unassuming existence, you feel like you're right where you belong—wrapped up in Kazuha's arms.
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A light breeze brushes past you, relieving you of your exhaustion for a brief moment as you watch the sun set below the city of Paris from the balcony of your hotel room. The 14-hour flight from Korea was hell, but the view alone made it all worth it. It has always been part of your bucket list to visit Paris one day, it’s a shame that you won’t be able to actually experience any of it though. With the International Summit starting tomorrow, you need to be extra focused on your work as a diplomat representing your country.
A cafe sits across the street from your hotel, beckoning you with its warm and welcoming light. You watch as the people inside talk and laugh about things you can only assume, enjoying one another’s company on this chilly winter day. A nice cup of coffee sounds great right now, but you have to be ready for tomorrow. But… It’s not tomorrow yet. The night is still young, giving you a couple hours to check out the cafe and maybe even explore the city for a little bit. You did all the extra work you needed to do on the plane, so there’s no reason for you to stay in your hotel room. After the summit is over, you’ll be on a flight straight back to Korea, and when are you ever gonna have the time to come back to Paris again? Besides, you’ve been working too hard for far too long, you deserve to have a small break.
Without hesitation, you grab your coat and exit your room, beelining it straight towards the elevators as you mentally practice the little French that you learned before the trip. With a resounding ding, the elevator doors open and you walk inside, only a couple floors standing between you and the City of Light.
The elevator shifts to a stop on one of the floors, opening to reveal a girl around your age wearing a mask and a cap pulled low over her eyes. Even with the majority of her face covered, you could feel the aura of elegance and beauty surrounding her. Her outfit isn’t anything crazy on the surface - a hoodie layered with a leather jacket and a clean pair of jeans - yet something about the way she wears it is so attractive. You wouldn’t be surprised if you find out that she’s a model for Paris Fashion Week, which coincidentally occurs at the same time as the summit.
“Hello,” you greet as she steps into the elevator. She returns your greeting with a simple nod, a small gesture that makes your heart flutter. You didn’t necessarily believe in love at first sight, but you imagine this is how it would feel like.
The elevator descends in silence, save for its mechanical rumble. Due to the nature of your job, you meet a lot of important people from around the world, so your conversational skills have naturally improved over the years. However, you suddenly find yourself tongue-tied around this random girl, not even a simple “How are you?” can escape your lips. All you can do is sneak little glances at her, but now you just feel creepy. Oh well, it’s not like you’re here to meet women or anything of that sort. You just want to feel some freedom for a little bit.
Suddenly, you nearly fall to the ground as the elevator begins to jerk violently. A hauntingly loud creaking noise can be heard from outside as the elevator abruptly stops its descent. The girl trips forward into your chest, and you instinctively catch her, holding on until the elevator eventually stops swaying.
Both of you share a huge sigh of relief. Even if the elevator stopped working, at least you're not plummeting to your doom.
“T-thank you,” the girl says, her voice trembling slightly. You meet her eyes for the first time, suddenly greeted by the most beautiful shade of brown you have ever seen. They’re invigorating like the strongest shot of espresso, sweet like the creamiest hazelnut chocolate, and warming like the first cup of hot cocoa in the winter. You could spend hours, no, years just looking into her eyes, getting lost in every flicker of her irises and every flutter of her lashes.
“Um, are you okay?”
“Y-yeah, s-sorry,” you stutter nervously, finally letting her go. You turn away from her, hoping she doesn’t notice the deep red in your cheeks.
She starts pushing buttons at random, but none of them seem to work, not even the one to call the firefighters. A wave of dread washes over the both of you at the realization that you have no idea how long it’ll take to get out of this metal coffin. Maybe an hour at best, maybe never at worst. With nothing else you can possibly do, you resign yourself to the ground, resting your back against the wall. This is what you get for trying to live a little - you get trapped in a box, forced to think about the consequences of your actions. All because you wanted a cup of coffee.
The girl sits across from you, tossing her hat and mask off in defeat, ruffling her silky black hair with her fingers. Your breath hitches in your throat - she is absolutely gorgeous. You swear you’ve seen her face before, maybe she’s a model for a high-fashion brand or the daughter of a rich CEO who ends up getting in the news for trivial matters. Either way, you can’t help but stare at her, slack-jawed in awe.
“Um, did you want an autograph or something?” She asks, her eyebrows raised in judgment.
You pick your jaw up off the ground, your cheeks burning red with embarrassment. “N-no, sorry, you just look really familiar. Have we met somewhere before?”
She chuckles lightly at your expression. “No, I don’t think we have. I’m Minji.” She reaches her hand out towards you in a friendly handshake, which you accept with a smile.
“I’m Eric. It’s nice to meet you, Minji.” The two of you share a laugh despite the unconventional circumstances. “Weird question, are you Korean?”
“Wah, that’s a good guess. How’d you know?” Minji tilts her head like a curious puppy, causing your heart rate to skyrocket. You can’t fathom how someone can be this cool, cute, and pretty all at the same time.
“Your name,” you explain. “I live in Korea for work, so I’ve gotten used to hearing Korean names.”
“Really? What do you do for work?”
“I work at the embassy in South Korea representing my country. I’m actually in Paris for the International Summit this week.”
“Oh wow, that’s so cool!” Minji’s eyes light up with wonder, her smile making you forget about the dire situation you’re in.
“Hehe, thanks! What about you, what do you do for work?”
“I, um…” She hesitates, lost in thought. “I’m here for Paris Fashion Week.”
“That makes sense, you’re very beautiful,” you suddenly blurt out. Your eyes grow wide with shock at your own words. “I-I mean, uh-”
“No, it’s okay. That’s very sweet.” A light pink hue graces her cheeks as she smirks at you. “So, is this your first time in Paris?”
You let out a sigh of relief, thankful that she didn’t take your compliment weirdly. “Yeah, it’s my first time. I was gonna go out and see the city for a bit since I’ll be swamped with work for the next couple of days, but now I’m… here.”
She nods in understanding. “That’s what I was doing too. It’s difficult to find a moment to myself because of my job. Don’t get me wrong, it’s a ton of fun, but sometimes I feel like a robot following orders, not really being able to live.”
The space between you falls silent in contemplation. You know that feeling all too well. You love that you’re able to help thousands of people every day by being a voice for the people who need it, but work can often get in the way of what you want to do. When was the last time you spent time with your family? Or sat down with a good book? Or went on a date? When was the last time you were able to breathe?
“If you weren’t stuck in here right now, what would you be doing?” You ask in hopes that it will lift the mood.
“Hmm, I don’t know. Probably walk around and take pictures of all the pretty lights. Maybe get some ice cream if there are any shops open.”
Your ears perk up. “Ice cream? In the winter?”
Minji puts her arms up in defense. “Before you go judging me, just try it for yourself first, alright?”
“No, I like it too!” You exclaim, surprised that you found someone that thinks like you. “I don’t like waiting until summer just to eat ice cream. It tastes better during winter anyways.”
“Oh my god!” Minji jumps up in excitement. “Finally, someone who gets it! All my friends called me weird for eating ice cream when it’s cold outside!”
Enthused by her energy, you stand up to meet her. “They just don’t understand that it doesn’t melt as quickly so you get to enjoy it for longer.”
“Right?!”
You suddenly find yourself inches away from her face, staring into her big, round eyes. The subtle heat of her breath brushes against your cheeks, warming your entire body. You would gladly spend forever stuck in this moment with her, watching the reflection of the universe in her eyes.
As the saying goes, all good things must come to an end. Minji pulls away, leaving you breathless. You quickly change the subject before the air between you gets too awkward to the point of no return.
“So… Paris Fashion Week. How’d you get involved with that?”
Much to your relief, Minji eases up, leaning against the wall as she turns to you. “I was invited by Chanel to come and watch their show, and I’ve always loved fashion so there was no way I was going to decline the invitation.”
“Oh, you’re watching the show? I assumed that you were modeling for them,” you say.
She chuckles to herself, blushing slightly. “Are you sure you didn’t break the elevator on purpose just so you could flirt with me?”
“N-no, I didn’t, I swear!” You stutter, flustered. Minji cackles like a hyena at your expression, causing you to keel over in laughter yourself from the insane sound coming out of her mouth. The sound of joyous laughter from two strangers fills the small elevator, unsure of how much time has passed or if you’re ever going to get out of there. You wonder what would’ve happened if the elevator worked normally. Would you be here talking like this? Or would the two of you go about your night without a single word shared between each other? Sure, seeing the streets of Paris would have been great, but would it have been as great as this?
Both of you find yourselves lying side by side, staring up at the bright fluorescent light, your stomachs aching from laughter. Despite it being your first meeting, you can’t help but feel like you’ve known her your whole life. Maybe it’s the same way survivors of a big tragedy bond through shared trauma or something like that.
“Do you really not know who I am?” Minji asks after a long silence. You rack your brain for any possible memories of ever seeing her, but only a faint silhouette appears in your mind.
“Sorry, I really don’t,” you answer. “Oh god, don’t tell me we’re old classmates or something. I would feel terrible if we used to be friends and I didn’t know.”
Her laugh tickles your ear like spring grass brushing against your legs. “No, it’s not like that. Honestly, it feels kinda nice that you don’t know anything about me. No expectations, no questions, no nothing. You just treat me like…. a regular human being,” she sighs.
“Now I’m kinda scared to ask who you are,” you quip, catching a smile from her. “Maybe I don’t have it as bad as you, but I can relate to you somewhat. There’s a lot of people depending on me to make the right decisions and if I miss up even a little bit, so many people get affected by it. If I get recognized in the streets, sometimes they’ll outright tell me what to do, talking about how their families would suffer because of me or outright threatening me to do what they want. It feels like I’m constantly walking on a tightrope being held by two sides that hate each other. No matter what I do, someone is always unhappy.”
Minji meets your eyes in mutual understanding. “That sounds really tough. I’m sorry, Eric.”
Such a simple gesture, yet one that you desperately needed. Talking to her feels like a massive weight is being lifted off of you. The amount of silent suffering you’ve had to endure over the years is finally being unloaded without judgment. With how many people’s lives you affect every day, you never truly realized just how lonely you feel. Thanks to Minji, you feel a little less alone.
“So, what is that you do?” You ask to lift up the mood. “I’ve been dying to know. I’m assuming you’re a celebrity of some kind?”
She smirks at you. “Have you ever heard of New Jeans?”
And then it clicks. You’ve seen her face plastered everywhere in Korea, billboards, ads, commercials, less than 24 hours ago you walked past her face in the airport right before you left. While you aren’t the biggest Kpop fan in the world, you would be lying if you said you didn’t have Hype Boy in your playlist for a solid month.
“Ah, so that’s why you looked so familiar. I’m glad you’re not a classmate I forgot about,” you joke.
“I wouldn’t be surprised if we were friends in another lifetime. You’re very easy to talk to.” Minji meets your eyes, casting that warm smile that makes you feel at ease. You forget that you’re in this tiny box with no way out but patience. You forget that in less than 24 hours, you’ll be surrounded by the most important figures in the world, attending a conference that can impact billions of people across the globe. You forget about your feelings of loneliness, anxiety, and stress that you’ve been feeling recently. As you look into Minji’s eyes, all you can think about is her. Her kindness. Her radiance. Her laugh. Just her.
The elevator begins to shake around you, rumbling to life. Your eyes shut, bracing for impact, but all you feel is the gradual descent of the elevator before it lands on the first floor. You and Minji stand up, not a word exchanged between the two of you. Is this… it? Is it over? Are you just supposed to go your separate ways now?
The doors open to reveal the owner of the hotel on the other side, relief and guilt painted on his sweaty face. “I-I am terribly sorry about the elevator, are you two alright?” He asks.
As you reassure him of your safety, you notice Minji quickly slipping past, donning her mask and hat. You decline the owner’s offer of a free spa day and chase after her.
Minji is an idol. Intimidatingly gorgeous, held to an impossibly high standard that she somehow manages to exceed at every turn. Despite that, she’s also kind, humorous, and down to Earth, nothing like many of the celebrities you’ve seen on social media. Even in your brief meeting, she understood you. She wanted to understand you. You can visit Paris again sometime in the future. But Minji? You’ll never meet a person like her again.
You catch up to her as she stands at a crosswalk. “H-hey, hi, um…” The words get caught in your throat as nervousness overwhelms you. Can you really do this? Would you be able to make this work with your busy schedules? Maybe, maybe not. But you’ll never know if you don’t try.
“Would you want to get a cof-”
“Yes,” Minji interrupts you. “I would love to have coffee. With you.”
Disbelief and happiness replace the doubts you felt moments ago. She takes your hand, intertwining her fingers with yours, as the two of you walk to the cafe across the street, beckoning you with its warm and welcoming light.
You’ve come to terms with the fact that you’re a “nerd” ages ago. Studying isn’t something you necessarily enjoy, but it’s a requirement for securing your spot in the real world, where meaningless titles like “nerd” or “jock” hold no substance on one’s success and only those who truly work hard will stand the test of time. With finals inching ever closer, it’s vital to you that you don’t waste a single second—
“What’s up, nerd?”
A light smack to the back of your head tears you out of the flow state you were in while brushing up on previous study guides from the past year. There’s only one person you know that’s dimwitted enough to still throw out outdated insults like that, almost as if she’s a caricature of a high school bully from those 2010’s movies she claims to hate.
“Bae,” you grumble, “Why are you even here? I thought you said you were ‘allergic to the library’?”
She shrugs, plopping down into the empty seat next to you. “I got bored.”
“Okay.” You turn your attention back to the worksheets in front of you, trying to remember where you left off. “Not my problem.”
“C’mon, man,” she groans. “Let’s do something fun.”
There aren’t many things that threaten the future of your success; most issues can be waved away with a quick favor or a helpful push in the right direction. In fact, you already have the rest of your life meticulously planned out in a journal, complete with potential contingencies and multiple backups in case any problems may arise.
Enter: Bae Jinsol. The physical embodiment of everything that could and will stand in your way. You tutored her once two semesters ago, and you’ve regretted it ever since. Not quite a leech—you’re not that cruel—but her unyielding persistence alone is enough to make it so that giving her what she wants is the only viable solution you have. More often than not, this means hours of time wasted that could be spent towards perfecting your mind to the best it can be.
“I’m really busy right now.”
“What could you possibly need to study for, you’re, like, the smartest person I know.”
You raise an eyebrow at her. “Knowing you, that doesn’t mean much—Ow.”
Bae slaps your arm, her lip jutting out in a pout. “That’s mean.”
You can’t help but grin at her expression. “You’re right, that was mean. I apologize,” you say, making an effort to sound sincere. “Now, I have a lot of work to do, so unless you’re okay with sitting there quietly, I suggest that you go and hang out with your other friends.”
She rests her head against the table, turning to watch you with her endearingly round eyes. “I chose to come here. I’ll stick to my decision like a real man.”
“Whatever,” you chuckle before turning back to the study guide.
It’s a bit difficult trying to study with an audience, but not a scenario you’re unfamiliar with. On the rare occasion that Bae doesn’t consistently bug you with her antics, you find her presence quite comfortable. Sometimes she’ll even ask about what you’re working on and entertain your little rants about discoveries you’ve made or thoughts you’ve been having, asking questions if she doesn’t get something. Her motivation to study is nonexistent, but her desire to understand is glaring.
Although, with nothing to talk about today, she gives you a good five minutes before breaking the silence.
“I’m bored again,” she sighs. “Let’s get boba.”
“What happened to sticking to your decision ‘like a real man’?” you tease.
“I’m a woman, jackass.” She leans into you, obscuring your view of the study guide with her face. “And this woman wants boba.”
The world around you freezes as the scent of her perfume lingers past your nose, igniting memories of warmth and coziness. The first crack in a wall that you worked too hard to maintain.
“Why don’t you ask Haewon to go with you instead?” you suggest, trying and failing to avert your gaze from those perfect irises, like swimming pools of deep obsidian.
“Because…” A light blush grows on her cheeks. “...I wanna get boba with you.”
The crack in the wall splinters and grows, exposing the weaknesses that you didn’t know were there. Or perhaps, you did know and chose to ignore them anyways, spackling over them with cheap excuses.
You scoff at her, a meager attempt to save face. “You just want me to pay for you. Again.”
“I told you I’ll pay you back!” she exclaims, earning a couple harsh shushes from nearby students. “I’m just a little strapped for cash at the moment.”
“Why don’t you try, I don’t know, actually looking for a job?” Your gaze moves back to your papers, desperately trying to escape this stalemate. “If you’ll excuse me, I have some work to do.”
Bae clings to the sleeves of her sweater, pouting at you. “Please~?”
Despite her persistence, you dare not move an inch, worried that one small movement could be the final crack that topples the wall. Your eyes reread the same line over and over again, hoping each pass will eventually take, but your mind is too cluttered to properly focus. With the gentle tug of her fingers and the notes of vanilla bean gliding past your nostrils, it’s a wonder how you haven’t succumbed to her demands already.
With a huff of her breath, Bae takes your hand in hers, using her final trump card.
“Baby~”
You want to think that, at that moment, the wall came crashing down in a ceremonious fashion, leaving behind a pile of rubble in its wake, a monument to all the effort you put into your future. But the truth is, she tore down that wall months ago—in fact, you can pinpoint the exact moment of its destruction.
The second you came face to face with her confused expression in that pre-calc class is the moment that sealed your fate, completely changing your perception of what the future could be like for you. That journal you keep, detailing every single miniscule detail of your potential career? You barely got two pages in before turning it into a scrapbook, filling every inch of paper with words, pictures, and keepsakes that remind you of the girl that refuses to give you a moment of peace.
And maybe that’s a good thing. The world could end tomorrow, rendering all of your plans useless. Why spend your last moments with your nose in a study guide when you could be drinking boba with your girlfriend?
“...You’re the worst, you know that?” you utter, interlacing your fingers with hers. Bae flashes you that wide, toothy smile that you can’t get enough of.
“Wow, you’re actually so obsessed with me, that’s insane,” she teases. “Just a single word and you immediately folded like an omelet.”
You haphazardly throw your belongings into your bag, eager to get out of the library and spend time with her. “I’m not obsessed, stupid,” you say,” I’m in love with you.”
“God, you’re so corny.” Despite her deflection, the blush growing on her face betrays her true feelings. She nervously scans the rest of the room before planting a sneaky kiss on your cheek, warm yet fleeting. “I love you too, stupid.”
It’s a fool’s errand to try and predict the future. No matter how smart you are, how many books you read, how many plans you make, the only thing you can do is hope for the future that you desire. And right now, the only future you want is one just like the present, with you clinging onto Bae’s hand with no intention of letting go.
I inhale the evening air, letting the aroma of grass fill my lungs. The full moon watches over us with a gentle gaze, casting an intimate spotlight on me and Minji. She leans over the railing, watching the streetlights flicker on the town below and imagining that they're stars shining from a million miles away.
A cool breeze whistles past. I wrap an arm around Minji for warmth, and she leans into my touch.
It's quiet. Peaceful. Perfect.
"The moon looks beautiful tonight," she comments. I nod, but all my focus is on her: the girl more beautiful than any celestial body could hope to be. Her hair dances with the wind like a stream of the finest black silk; her eyes, so full of wonder and possibility, hide their own galaxy within. Planets, constellations, blackholes, pieces of Minji only revealed to those that can see beyond her surface.
Being here, alone, with her—I could die with a smile.
"Minji," I utter softly in the narrow space between us. She turns to me, a knowing smile on her lips, and shuts her eyes. She's waiting.
With a quivering breath, I slowly lean in, captured in the force of her gravity. As I move closer and closer, warm puff of her breath brush my cheeks, like the first ray of sunshine after an arduous winter. Her soft lips are the last thing I see before my vision grows dim.
And then, nothing.
My eyes shoot open. Minji is gone, replaced by the slow whirling of my ceiling fan. I jolt upright, desperately searching for her, only to be met with the dull layout of my bedroom. A disappointed sigh leaves my lungs—just a dream.
My phone sits on my bedand the memory of my fruitless attempt at texting her comes crawling back. How fucking pathetic. In my dream, I have no problem being all lovey-dovey and shit, yet I can't even think of a single thing to say to her in the real world. My fingers hover over the keyboard, some last ditch effort at searching for the rights words to say, but it's all for naught as I end up texting the group chat instead.
Yuno: Good Morning.
Yujin: GOOD MORNING!!!!
Winter: good morning :)
Yuno: What are you two up to?
Winter: working :/
Yujin: im hanging out with my grandma!!
With the two of them busy, I'm left to figure out how to spend my Sunday alone. I click over to Minji's blank messages one last time, my heart palpitating weirdly. Whatever this feeling is, love or otherwise, it's getting old quickly. Everything is confusing, and unlike most of my problems, I can't just brute force my way through it. What am I even hoping for here? A relationship? I don't know anything about relationships or dating or how to be a boyfriend.
Minji's boyfriend, huh? That sounds kinda nice.
No. We're too different, and I don't exactly have any redeeming qualities. I mean, Minji is like... a shining star—beautiful and radiant, but unattainable. And I'm just a sad cockroach that gets to look at the star. I wouldn't be surprised if my entire existence is just some sick joke played by whatever it is that's up there.
We're just friends, and that's okay. And yet, I can't quite ignore the dull pain in my chest from the thought of being 'just friends'. With a heavy sigh and a couple thousand unanswered questions, I send her a simple "Good Morning" text. Because that's what friends say to each other.
Heading downstairs, the sizzling of melting butter and the heavenly scent of warm maple syrup grows stronger, making my stomach growl louder than a lion asserting its dominance. My dad flips another pancake onto a growing stack, two more still cooking on the stovetop.
"Good morning, Yuno," he greets me with a quiet smile. "I made some breakfast. Help yourself."
I quickly take a seat and stack a couple pancakes onto my plate, practically drooling at the sight of these golden-brown disks of perfection. The warm scent wafts past my nose and I suddenly remember that first morning at Minji's house. Despite being complete strangers, she still offered me a place to sleep to avoid the rain, warm clothes to change into, and even went through all the trouble of making me waffles. She didn't have to, yet she did, and it made all the difference in my measly little life.
Minji is just so... incredible. And beautiful. And intelligent and kind and sweet and—
"Uh, are you okay?" I hear my dad ask. "You've been staring at your pancakes for a while now."
I shake my head, pulling myself back into reality. "I'm fine."
That's a lie. I'm not fine. A girl—THE girl—is taking over my mind, making my heart feel weird and my mouth feel dry. I like a girl that can't possibly like me back and I'm just supposed to be fine with that. How do I even begin to explain this to anyone?
My dad sits across from me at the table and fills up his plate. The silence between us begins to grow as we eat, an air of unease and uncertainty filling the room. On top of my feelings for Minji, I now have to deal with my feelings regarding the state of my dad. It's been years since I last saw him like this. He's fine now, but what if he relapses? How did he even make such an abrupt change anyway when all I saw him doing was sleeping and drinking? I should be happy, but I can't shake the feeling that he could just revert to his older self without warning. I can't cling to hope for too long, otherwise I'll be met with disappointment yet again.
"So, I was thinking," he says, nervously clearing his throat. "Would you wanna go to the mall later?"
I freeze like a deer in headlights, caught off guard by his sudden question. "The mall? Why?"
"You don't have to go if you don't wanna, I just thought..." He sighs heavily, dropping his expression to the floor. "I want to be your dad again, like old times, before your mother... left us. If you don't want anything to do with me, I understand, but if it's okay with you... I want a relationship with my son again."
He looks into my eyes with a sincere expression, tears threatening to pour. A part of me wants to say no, to make up some lame excuse and wander the streets until it's dark instead of spending any time with him. Maybe he's right. Maybe I am harboring some resentment for him for leaving me, a child, alone all these years, left to watch my one remaining parent shatter into a million pieces every day until he's nothing but dust. Maybe I got so used to being alone that the thought of relying on someone else again makes me uncomfortable. Maybe I get into these stupid fights and aimlessly walk around the neighborhood because I know that the only person waiting for me at home is constantly drunk and sleeping.
Despite that, I don't say no. I nod my head and utter, "Okay," because the other part of me wants to have my dad back regardless of what he did. I want to be able to come home after school, into a home with the lights on, where the air doesn't constantly smell like alcohol, and have someone, anyone, ask how my day went. I want someone to rely on when life gets too difficult to handle by myself. I want my family again.
So we eat our breakfast in silence. The uncertainty lingers, but next to it is a warming sense of hope, holding its hand in reassurance.
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Minji's POV
Knock, knock, knock
"Minji?"
Knock, knock, knock
"Honey, are you awake?"
I finally sit up, rubbing the drowsiness from my eyes. "Now I am," I yawn, stretching out my limbs. The clock reads 7:12 AM, about an hour after I usually wake up on the weekends. My phone lay face up on my bed, still on Yuno's empty messages. Like an idiot, I waited all night for a response from him, but all I got was an hour less of sleep. Maybe I shouldn't have held my breath for him.
My mother swings my bedroom door wide open. "Oh good, you're awake," she says, pacing around my room and picking up some of my laundry off the ground. "Go eat breakfast and get washed up. We're going to the mall."
"The mall? Why?" I ask.
"Oh, y'know... Just some clothes shopping," she says with a peculiar smile. "We need to update that closet of yours, dear."
Too drowsy to argue, I get out of bed and head downstairs, where my father is taking a call in the kitchen. Wisps of steam float from the mug of black coffee sitting on the counter next to him, untouched as he presses his phone to his ear with an intense focus. He mouths "Good morning" to me, gesturing to a plate holding a simple cheese and spinach omelet. I dig in, unintentionally eavesdropping on my father's conversation.
"Mhm. Tuesday you said? No, it's not a problem at all. Yes, she will be there, I'll make sure of it. Yeah. Mhm. No problem. We'll see you then."
Finally, he hangs up the phone and sits next to me at the dining table. Wrinkles of exhaustion decorate his face, likely from working early in the morning.
"Did you sleep okay, Minji?" He asks. "You're usually up earlier than this."
"I slept fine. I thought I'd get some more studying done after I got home and forgot about the time," I lie. I can't even imagine how furious he would be if I told him that I stayed up all night waiting for a text from a boy.
He grins proudly at me. "I'm happy that you're working hard on your studies, but good sleeping habits will keep our brain healthy." His phone buzzes in his pocket. "I'll be right back, I have to take this." He leaves the room, leaving me alone in the kitchen with my omelet and my thoughts. Maybe Yuno isn't going to text me. Maybe I should text him first instead. But shouldn't the guy text first...?
A sigh leaves my lips. I'm way in over my head with prom preparations already, I definitely don't have any room for a silly little crush. Perhaps these feelings are just one of circumstance. We've been bumping into each other everywhere, so these feelings will fade if I just avoid Yuno for a bit. Sounds easy enough, right?
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The mall is always busiest on the weekends, full of families and friends looking for new deals while carrying around soft pretzels or pointing out attractive people who pass by. This mall, however, is a bit different from most, reserving its entire top floor for high-end designer shops. There isn't any sort of membership or secret password that prohibits people from entering the top floor, but it generally stays barren aside from the few wealthy shoppers who can afford to do more than just window shop, including my family. The blatantly obvious segregation between social classes is disgusting, but I would be lying if I said I don't like being able to shop without stumbling through the thick crowds on the lower levels.
"What do you think about this one, dear?" My mother pulls a black dress off the hanger, presenting its fine, intricate detailing to me. Shimmering black beads are sewn into the fabric, probably taking countless hours to place by hand.
"It's very pretty," I comment plainly. By all means, it's a beautiful dress, but I much prefer something more comfortable.
"Why don't you go try it on, dear," she says, handing me the dress. I glance at the price tag, causing my eyes to go wide in shock at the $120,000 price point.
"$120,000? Isn't that a bit much for a dress?" I ask, concern painting my face.
"Nonsense, Minji. Don't you want to look good for the party?"
My brow furrows. "Party? What party?" My mother's gaze wanders, avoiding me completely.
"Well, there's no party in particular, but you never know what will come up. Just try on the dress please." She pushes me into the dressing room before I can ask another question.
Right as I close the door behind me, I feel my phone buzz in my purse. My heart skips a beat from the words on the screen - 1 new message from Yuno.
"AH!" I exclaim, nearly dropping my phone.
"Are you okay in there, ma'am?" A worker asks from the other side of the door. I can feel my cheeks heat up from embarrassment.
"I-it's nothing! Just a, uh, a spider! But it's okay!" I silently cringe at myself as I hear the worker's footsteps walking away. I just know Hanni would be laughing her butt off at me getting this excited over a text from Yuno.
With a trembling hand, I open up his text, which simply reads "Good morning." It's a short and simple message, yet I bite my lip, actively stifling a delighted squeal. An overwhelming sense of giddiness washes over me from those two words on the screen, my mind racing as I try to think of a response.
Should I ask him how he slept? Maybe that's a bit too intimate... Oh, what if he had a weird dream? That's an interesting topic of conversation, right? No, that might be too weird... Maybe I should ask the girls for help. But they might just laugh at me. Oh god, what do I do?
Right as my thumb hovers over the keyboard to type up a response, I freeze. This isn't what I'm supposed to be doing. Yuno and I are just friends, and that's all we can ever be. I'm just far too busy for any kind of serious relationship, and my parents clearly don't approve of him either. Even so, a small voice in the back of my head tells me to go for it, that it'll work out if I try hard enough. Anything can be achieved through hard work, right? That's what my parents always tell me. A heavy sigh escapes my lips as my heart and mind devolve into war with no clear victor. I don't even know for sure if he feels the same, yet here I am, getting all excited over his words on a screen.
A knock at the door snaps me out of my rambling thoughts. "Honey, are you okay in there? You've been in there a long time, I only gave you one dress to try," I hear my mom ask.
"S-sorry!" I quickly toss my phone back into my purse and grab the dress off the hanger. Maybe I just need some time to think about it.
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"Thank you for shopping with us, Ms. Kim! Have a wonderful day!" The worker exclaims as we leave the store with a plethora of shopping bags and a long receipt to match. My mother takes a single bag, leaving me to carry the rest. My family definitely has the means to live a "comfortable" life, but even exorbitant purchases like these are uncharacteristic of them.
"Why... huff... do I... huff... need all these clothes?" I ask, struggling to carry everything. "Isn't this... huff... a bit much just to update my closet?"
"Think of it as a gift from your mother, dear," she replies, not looking in my direction. "I barely get to see you because your father and I are always working. Don't you want to spend time with your mother?"
"I guess so..." But not like this, I think to myself. As we descend the escalator to the lower levels, the frequency of people increases, making it nearly impossible to take two steps without accidentally hitting someone with the bags. My cheeks burn with embarrassment as I offer an apologetic look to everyone who passes by.
Amidst the chaos, I trip over my foot, sending shopping bags and expensive dresses flying everywhere. My mother continues on without even so much as a glance backward, leaving me to pick up the remnants of her wealth as passersby give me weird looks or downright ignore me. As if things couldn't get any worse, a man snatches my purse off the ground and dashes toward the mall exit.
"H-hey! Give that back!" Of course, my words fall on deaf ears as the thief gets farther and farther. No one moves to stop him, too scared or confused to intervene. My phone, my wallet, the little knick knacks my friends have given me over the years, all of it is gone...
Out of nowhere, a person tackles the thief to the ground, wrestling my purse from his hands. The scuffle ends with the heroic stranger standing over the thief's now unconscious body, a crowd surrounding and applauding his efforts. An overwhelming sense of gratitude fills me, and without thinking, I run over to my savior and capture him in a big hug,
"Oh my god, thank you so much for getting my purse back, I don't know how I can—" Panic replaces gratitude as I look up at him for the first time.
"Y-Yuno?!"
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Yuno's POV
I glare at the black screen of my phone, taunting me by reflecting my own ridiculous emotions. My body is restless, itching for any sign of life, a vibration, a notification, just anything to quench my frustrations. And then it happens: the screen lights up with life. Frantic, I grab the phone, bringing it up to my eyes to read the notification.
Yujin: Heeeeeeeyyyyyyyyyy guyyyyyysssssss. I made kimbap for my grandma, what do yall think?
A photo of Yujin is attached to the text, depicting a clumsily put-together plate of what I assume to be kimbap. Out of the billion notifications I've received in the past hour, all of them have been from Yujin, and zero have been from Minji. My head drops in disappointment. Despite my own warnings, I can't stop thinking about her. She plagues my mind with her pretty eyes and cute face and gentle voice and—
"You alright, Yuno?" My dad sits across from me at the table, his brow furrowed in concern mid-chew. "You haven't touched your burger at all."
I shake my head, gathering my bearings. '50s rock music blasts from the speakers above, fitting the atmosphere of the classic American-style diner my dad ended up choosing. With no plan in mind, my dad suggested that we get some lunch first, although his words fell on deaf ears since I was too preoccupied staring at my phone.
"It's nothing," I utter, avoiding his eyes. He sighs heavily, his expression darkening.
"Look, I... I understand if you don't trust me completely, and I will work harder to earn your trust, but I don't want you to suffer in silence," he explains. "If something is going on, I want you to know that you can come to me for anything, no matter how big or small. I don't have the answers to everything, but I'm here to listen if you need me."
My lips part to speak, but the words get caught in my throat, too scared to make themselves heard. I choke them down, guilt arising within me due to my silence. What am I supposed to say? "Hey Dad, you are right, I feel weird seeing you like this after so long and so suddenly, but also my life in general has just become so weird. In less than a week, I slept over at the student council's president house, got two friends, got into several fights, went to the fair for the first time, and I also really like the student council president. Maybe even love her, I don't know."
This whole thing is ridiculous. I am ridiculous.
"I'm fine, really," I assure him, and myself partially.
He looks at me, unconvinced, but doesn't pry any further. "Alright, just... I want you to know."
God, this sucks. I can't even eat a meal with my own dad in peace because of my inability to function like a regular human being. Part of me wishes I could just pretend like everything is alright, but since when have I ever felt alright?
"What about you?" The words eject from my mouth without thought. Call it curiosity or not wanting to eat in awkward silence for the second time today. Either way, the question is out there now.
"What about me?" My dad asks, rightfully confused.
"I mean..." Fuck, why is it so hard to talk? "You... You're up and alive, I guess. What changed?"
He places his burger down and looks up with a thoughtful expression. "I, uh, went out for another drink one night and ran into an old friend from college. We just talked for a while, maybe even all night, just catching up like no time had passed. Y'know, he introduced me and your mom way back when. Seeing him reminded me of my old college days, living like I was on top of the world, and... I just knew something had to change."
"That's... great. Really." And I mean it. A smile grows on his face at my sincerity.
"Yeah, it really is. He basically saved my life. I hope you're able to find good friends like that, Yuno."
My phone buzzes with a new message from the group chat.
Winter: that looks really great yujin :D
Yujin: hehe thanks !!!
A small grin grows on my face. Maybe I already have. If only I could get a text from one other friend...
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We walk into a clothing store full of people my age dressed much more stylishly than I am. I didn't particularly need to update my closet, but the potential guilt of declining my dad's offer to buy me clothes was too overwhelming. Besides, what else are you supposed to do at a mall other than spend exorbitant amounts of money on material things?
"Go look around. Let me buy you something nice for once," he quips. His mood seems to have significantly brightened after our talk at the diner.
Looking through all the racks made me realize just how out of my element I am. Outside of my school uniform, most of my clothes are just sweats and hoodies - comfortable and don't draw too much attention. Everything (and practically everyone) in here is basically a giant billboard that says "Hey, look at me!!!"
Then, something catches my eye: a forest green sweater with a bear wearing overalls screen printed on the front. I try to move on, but the beady lifeless eyes of the bear stare into my soul, demanding that I take it home. It's ridiculous, It's childish, it's...
"I want it," I blurt out.
"Really? This?" Dad chuckles, examining the sweater. "Didn't think you would be interested in this kind of thing, but hey, what do I know about fashion?"
I cough awkwardly, my face growing warm. I didn't know anything about fashion either. Hell, if I didn't have the reputation I have, I would probably be a prime target for bullies if I wore that around. Out of everything in the store, why did I want that sweater? Who in their right mind would even like this sweater?
Minji. Minji would. Half of her bed is covered in teddy bears. I want that sweater because, for some stupid reason, I think it'll magically make her like me. Or something. I don't know. She hasn't even texted me back yet, what good is a sweater with a bear on it gonna do?
Before I could protest, my dad hands me the sweater in a plastic bag, already paid for. "You wanna stop by a couple more stores?" he asks.
"Sure," I concede, still feeling embarrassed. A part of me feels oddly glad that I took it, imagining Minji's reaction to seeing the sweater. "Wow Yuno, your sweater is so cute, we should go out sometime!" Yeah right. Still, I can't stop the small grin dancing on my lips.
"H-hey! Give that back!"
A familiar voice rings from the center of the mall. I glance upwards to see a man barging through the crowd, clutching onto a purse that definitely isn't his. Without thinking, I spring into action, dashing towards him as fast as I can.
"Yuno!" My dad calls out from behind me, but his words are left unheard as I continue my pursuit. Right before the man reaches the exit, I jump onto a bench and dive at him, tackling him to the ground
"What the fuck man, get off of me!" The thief yells. He lands a punch to the side of my head as I try to wrestle the purse from him. While it isn't the hardest blow I've received, it's enough to piss me off. I grab his throat, digging my fingers into his windpipe, nearly crushing it in my grip. He squirms underneath, the desperation welling in his eyes as he fights for breath. I reel back my fist and let it fly, aiming to crack his skull against the ground.
As my fist gets closer and closer to his head, time crawls to a standstill. Minji's voice echoes in my head: "You're a good person, Yuno. I just wish you would stop getting into trouble." I mean, he deserves it, he's a thief. He steals some poor girl's purse, he deserves a good beating. And yet, I pull back at the last moment, knocking him out instead of outright shattering his jaw. His skull is intact, but he'll surely feel it when he wakes up.
The sound of scattered applause around me pulls me from my adrenaline-fueled haze. It's only now that I realize people are recording me like a zoo animal, upholding me like I'm some kind of "hero" or something. In reality, I just did what they were too scared to do, but they're too busy creating their own narratives to see that.
Suddenly, a pair of arms wrap around me in a familiar and oddly comforting anaconda grip.
"Oh my god, thank you so much for getting my purse back, I don't know how I can—Y-Yuno?"
That voice. Is it...?
"M-Minji?"
I suddenly find myself mere inches away from Minji's face, staring straight into the blacks of her eyes. I take in the perfect slope of her nose, the roundness of her eyes, down to the soft puff of her lips. My first instinct is to pull away, but frankly, I don't want to. God, I think I'm going insane.
Fortunately (or rather unfortunately), Minji lets go, finally giving me room to breathe. But as my lungs fill with breath, so does my stomach fill with the incessant flapping of butterflies.
"S-sorry about that, uh... Th-thanks, Yuno..." She mutters, her gaze never leaving the ground.
"Y-yeah, no problem..."
"Yuno!" My dad calls out to me, running in our direction. "Jesus, you're fast... huff... Are you alright?" He glances over at the thief's unconscious body as two mall cops drag him away. "You certainly did a number on him, huh? Impressive." He pats my shoulder, giving me a proud smile.
The clop of expensive high heels draws our attention, growing louder and louder with each step.
"Minji! Are you okay, dear?"
Minji's mom appears, checking her for injuries.
"I-I'm okay, mother. Um, you remember Yuno, right?" She awkwardly gestures towards me, leading her mom's gaze. With her cold gaze studying my expression, It's like I have a sniper dot placed firmly onto my forehead, ready to blow my brains out if I so much as cough in her direction.
"Ah yes... I remember." Mrs. Kim's lips curl into a curt smile that does little to hide her disdain. "Thank you, I suppose. Although, I could've easily bought her another one." The tension rises as we lock eyes in a stalemate that neither of us are willing to lose.
"Hello!" my dad chimes in, unknowingly diffusing the situation. "I'm Ian Lin, Yuno's dad. It's nice to meet you!" He extends a hand towards her, which Mrs. Kim accepts with clear reluctance that he somehow doesn't notice.
"Well... I would love to chat, but we must get going." She steps past us, her heels clacking violently against the floor. "Minji dear, pick up the bags please. We need to get your new dresses fitted at the tailor." She doesn't even look back, leaving Minji to pick up the mountain of shopping bags by herself. It's a wonder that someone as unconditionally kind as Minji was born from someone like her. Maybe Minji is adopted or something.
"I should get going," Minji sighs, barely able to take a full step forward. "Thanks again, Yuno."
"Wait." I reach out and grab some of the bags from her. "Let me help you."
"Oh, you don't have t—"
"I want to."
Minji's cheeks turn peachy as she hands me a few of the bags to carry. Meanwhile, my dad whips over to the other side of her and offers his assistance.
"May I?" he asks. Minji concedes with a sigh, shooting him a grateful smile.
"Thank you. I was, uh, really struggling before," she admits.
The three of us follow loosely behind Minji's mother. No wonder she didn't text me, I don't think I would have the luxury of breathing when I'm around a terrifying woman like that. Still, it does put me at ease a bit knowing Minji wasn't exactly ignoring my text. Seeing her in person is way better than a couple of words on a screen.
"Minji, right?" my dad asks her. "Are you a friend of my son's?"
"Yes, Mr. Lin, we are friends."
Friends. The title feels bittersweet at best, but hearing her admit that without any hesitation in her voice makes my heart do a leap. I fake a cough just to hide my smile.
"That's great, I don't get to meet a lot of Yuno's friends. By the way, just call me Ian, Mr. Lin makes me feel older than I already am," he quips, earning a chuckle from Minji. "I have to ask, what's Yuno like at school?"
"Yuno is..." She turns to look at me, but my gaze is glued to the ground, too nervous to meet her eyes. "...a bit of a troublemaker..." Damn. "...but he's a good guy." Hell yeah.
"That's good to hear. Y'know, he gets his personality from his mother." His grin fades for a second before going back to normal. "And he gets his good looks from me."
The two of them laugh while I silently cringe to myself, a dull throb hitting my temples. Never in a million years did I imagine the two of them ever meeting, let alone holding a conversation like this. It's kinda nice, in an off-putting way. Better than letting Minji meet him as a grieving alcoholic.
"Hurry up dear," Minji's mom calls out to her, walking into the tailors.
"Welp, this is my stop. Thank you for the help, but I can take it from here," Minji says. She takes the bags from us, lightly gracing my hand and sending a jolt of electricity through my body. "Bye Yuno and it was nice meeting you Mr. Li—er, Ian."
A disappointed sigh leaves my lips as I watch her disappear into the shop. She was right there, close enough for me to catch a whiff of her lavender-scented perfume. I've been waiting all day for a text from her, yet my stupid feelings made me too nervous to speak.
"You like her, don't you?"
My head snaps towards my dad, a sly smirk dancing on his lips. My eyes grow wide in shock, "W-what, n-no... I-I just, uh... W-whatever..."
"I know that look anywhere, Yuno. It's the same one I gave your mother before we started going out," he explains. My face sinks into my hands, the overwhelming urge to disappear consuming me.
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Minji's POV
My family has frequented this specific tailor shop at the mall for numerous occasions over the years, we even went here to get my school uniform properly fitted before the school year started. The shop has one sole worker, a kind yet quiet old man. He's skilled at his job, but my only issue with him is that he continuously pokes me with sewing pins while taking my measurements.
"Mother, why do I—Ow! Why do I need so many new dresses for my wardrobe—Ow! None of these clothes are things I would wear casually."
She sighs. "I suppose we'll have to tell you eventually."
"Tell me what?" I ask, my brow furrowing.
"We're starting a new business venture with the Park family and we thought it would be a good idea to hold a banquet this Tuesday to mark the beginning of our partnership. We haven't seen them in a while, so we figured it would be a good idea to catch up."
The Park family? "Okay, but if it's for the business, then why do I have to go?"
"Their son, Sunghoon, will be in attendance, so we expect you to do the same."
Sunghoon. Just the name alone sends a shiver down my spine. I thought I finally got rid of him after he moved away in middle school, but no. He's finally come back to haunt me.
"U-uh, I have school that day a-and I have a test coming up that I need to study for and—"
"Your father and I think that the opportunity to network and make connections with influential people in the industry will be more beneficial to you than a high school test that you can make up anyway. Besides, don't you want to see your old friend Sunghoon again? I remember how hard you cried after he moved away."
No, Mother, those were tears of joy. My parents have been close friends with the Parks since they attended the same college together, so naturally (and incorrectly), they assumed that their kids would be close as well. Sunghoon got along well with my brother, but he was an absolute menace towards me. He would call me names, steal my things, and talk bad about me to his annoying group of friends. No matter how much I cried to my parents about him, they always gave me the outdated, misogynistic line of "boys will be boys." When his family finally moved away during middle school, I couldn't have been more thrilled, literally crying tears of joy knowing that I would never have to see him ever again. But of course, fate is a cruel mistress, making everything go right for a couple of years before stabbing me in the back with a Sunghoon-shaped knife.
"But mother, I—"
"We're just asking you to attend the banquet for a couple of hours and mingle. Why do you have to make things so difficult?"
A dejected sigh leaves my lips. There's no getting through to her at this rate. At least I have a day to mentally prepare myself before the banquet. Right now, I plan to say hi to him to keep up appearances and then avoid him like the plague for the rest of the event. Piece of cake, right?
My gaze falls to my purse, sitting on a bench a few feet away. A thought plants itself into my head like a seedling, growing and growing into a full-blown idea. Maybe there's a way that I can make this banquet a little more bearable.
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The second we make it into the house, I kick my shoes off by the front door and dash upstairs towards my room, ignoring the calls from my mother to put them away properly. By the time we finished up at the tailor, my phone had somehow died in my purse, making me antsy the whole drive home.
I burst through my room, practically leaping towards the charger.
"Come on, hurry up," I plead, praying that it will somehow make the phone turn on faster. Thankfully, it only takes a few seconds to light up with life. I quickly scroll through my messages, typing up a quick text to the person who will be most vital to plan.
Yuno: Good Morning.
Minji: heyyy! can i call u? i have something important to ask
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Yuno's POV
I stop dead in my tracks, nearly dropping the groceries all over the kitchen floor as I reread Minji's text over and over again. My mind can't help but wander through all the possibilities of why she would want to call me. Maybe it's her mom using Minji's phone to get revenge on me for simply existing. Or maybe she got kidnapped and I'm about to be called to pay for ransom. But why would the kidnappers call me? Maybe she—
"Hello? Earth to Yuno." My dad waves his hand in front of my face, pulling me from my thoughts. "I can't have you stand in the middle of the kitchen while I cook dinner," he chuckles.
"A-ah, right. Sorry." I move to put the groceries away, but he stops me.
"I can put the rest of the groceries away. It's clear you would rather be doing something else right now." He gives me a knowing smile as he hands me the bag with my new sweater in it. Right before I head up, I turn to him one more time.
"Um, thanks for taking me to the mall. It was... nice," I say.
He chuckles to himself before waving me off. As soon as I'm in my room, I shoot Minji a quick reply.
Minji: hey! can i call u? i have something important to ask
Yuno: Sure.
An overwhelming wave of suspense hits me, filling my mind with an endless mountain of questions. After a beat, my phone buzzes to life with Minji's name and I quickly swipe to answer her call.
"Hello!"
Her voice rings clearly through the speakers like the soothing sound of a gentle breeze. I'm somewhat glad she didn't ask to talk in person, otherwise, she would see the obvious blush on my face.
"H-hey. Um, what did you want to ask me?"
"Oh right! It's kinda weird, but... Are you doing anything on Tuesday night?"
My heart thumps loudly in my chest. Is she asking me on a...?
"N-no, why?" I can't stop my voice from quivering nervously.
"Well..." She sighs. "It's a bit of a long story, but basically, my parents are holding a banquet for the family business on Tuesday and if you're not busy, I was wondering if you wanted to go... with me."
"A-as your date?" I slap my hand over my mouth, but it's too late. Why couldn't I just think for one second before blurting that out like an idiot? "Sorry, I didn't mean—"
"N-no, it's okay! Um..." She clears her throat. "Technically speaking, I guess you would kinda be my, uh, date."
I don't speak for a long while. I can't. The thought of being Minji's technical date sends me into a long, euphoric spiral. Is this what true happiness feels like?
"Um, hello? Yuno?"
"Yeah, sorry, I'm still here," I croak awkwardly. "Uh, why me? Why not invite any of your other friends?
"There's this guy that's gonna be there and I would really like to avoid him, so I figured I could bring you instead of the girls and maybe he'll... y'know."
My heart sinks a little. "You just want me to be there to scare him off?"
"I... yeah, technically." Her tone turns apologetic. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to... Just forget what I said—"
"I'll go."
Maybe I'm just a hopeless love-stricken fool who's willing to toss away any ounce of self-respect I have left for a girl he likes, but it's not like I'm doing anything interesting on a Tuesday night anyways. Plus, banquets usually have free food, and if Ms. Kim's cooking is any sign of things to come, it'll probably be good.
"I'm sorry if it seems like I'm using you. I just really need a friend to help get me through the banquet," she says.
"Hey, it's fine. You want me to rough him up for you?" I quip. I'd gladly wrestle a bear if she asked me to.
She laughs softly through the phone. "No, nothing like that. I want you there as my friend, not my bodyguard."
"I can do that." I lay back in my bed, staring at the ceiling as I listen to Minji's voice. I can't help but imagine what she must be doing now. Maybe she's hunched over her desk, working on some student council business. Or maybe she's laying down in her own bed, her phone next to her ear as she clutches one of her many teddy bears to her chest. The simple thought of her existing sends my heart into a frenzy.
"Thanks," she utters. "Y'know, it feels like you're always helping me with something and I haven't paid you back at all."
"What do you mean?" I ask.
"First, you saved me from that drunk guy in front of the convenience store, and then the spider in the Ferris wheel, and then today with the purse thief, and now I'm asking you to go to a banquet with me because I don't want to see some guy. You're always doing things for me and I haven't done the same for you."
"That's not true," I refute. "The day we first met, you let me, a total stranger, sleep on your couch so I wouldn't have to walk home in the rain."
"Well, I only did that because you offered to walk me home first," she argues. "See, you've done a thousand things for me, and I've only done one thing for you."
"You've... done a lot for me."
"Like what?" she asks, still in disbelief.
"You... listened to me when you didn't have to," I start. "Anybody could've easily disregarded me as just another brute. After all the times I've been stubborn and gotten myself into trouble, you still treated someone like me with kindness and understanding. I guess what I mean is... you're existence itself has helped me more than you realize."
Minji says nothing for a while. As each second of silence passes, I worry if I might have something wrong. Maybe we're not close enough to get this vulnerable and I scared her off. Regardless, I meant every word I said, even if I didn't think I would be saying all of this out loud to her.
"Um, thank you, Yuno," she says after what feels like forever. "That was... really sweet."
"Yeah," I mutter because I have no idea what else to say. "I should probably go, you're probably busy with something—"
"Wait!" Minji interjects. "Not yet. I mean, unless you wanna go?"
Heat rises to my cheeks. "You wanna stay on the call?"
"Um... yeah, if that's okay. I, uh, don't feel like hanging up yet."
I bury my face into a pillow, trying to hide my smile even though I know she's not here to see it. God, Minji Kim, you'll be the death of me one day. The cautious part of me continues to nag at me, telling me that this will go nowhere, that I'm a fool for being hopeful—but I don't care. I want to keep talking to her. I want to keep hearing her voice and thinking about her and being friends with her. Minji is a drug and I'm the hopeless addict looking for his next fix. Even if it hurts me in the end, I'd rather die know her warmth than live in constant fear of getting burned.
I shut my eyes, turning off all my senses just to focus on Minji's voice. "What did you wanna talk about?" I ask.
"Haerin—you remember her, right?" Maybe it's just my imagination, but I can practically hear her smile in every word. "She's been talking my ear off about this club idea that she has..."
It happened again—you noticed the way the sun hits her just right, making her hair glow with a soft honey brown. The way her cheeks puff like the softest marshmallows when she laughs: a sweet sound you'd record on vinyl and rewind over and over and over again until the notes embed themselves into your ear canal. The way each footstep seems so graceful, carefree, weightless, without fear of ever misstepping.
And yet, you don't even know her name.
It's been a good couple weeks since she first arrived—out of nowhere, like a bolt from the blue, landing into English Lit and uprooting your entire life. New girl introduced herself during your regularly scheduled nap in the back of the classroom ("No worries," you figured, "I'll get her name eventually."), but with each passing day of slowly sinking deeper into a quicksand of infatuation, it's hard not to feel like the world's worst stalker by knowing everything about her except her name.
It started with a simple hunger.
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Ill-prepared as always, you stare through the glass of the vending machine, clutching your empty stomach with one hand and your emptier wallet with the other. The shiny aluminum of the chip bags seems to mock you with their sheen, safe behind the confines of their metal box. Right as you're about to drive your fist into the machine, you hear a voice next to you, so clear and pristine you thought it was your imagination.
"Which one's good?" "Hm?" You find yourself staring at the side profile of what you can only imagine to be an angel in real life—an angel hungry for greasy potato chips.
"Which one's good?" she repeats, turning to face you. "I can't decide."
For a moment, you forget all about the pang of hunger in your stomach as your eyes trace over her soft features. Curiosity or some inane instinct to humiliate yourself, you can't seem to stop staring, even as the seconds crawl by and it's becoming more obvious how much of a creep you must look like.
"Uh, hello?" Mystery girl waves a hand in front of your face, breaking the daze you were in. You figured she'd be running to the nearest police station by now, so the fact that she's still here, and smiling—Christ, what a sight—is either a miracle, or the start of your demise.
"Oh, right, uh," you mutter, "I usually just get salt and vinegar."
"Hmm..."
She ponders your words, bringing a slender finger to her chin as if what flavor she decides on will have some bearing on the fate of the universe—with the way she looks, ethereal and impossibly out of place in this backwater town, it just might.
"They're all the same, y'know," you utter for no particular reason. "Greasy, cheap, always half-empty."
She chuckles, and you feel your chest tighten. "Maybe so. But I'm craving chips today."
You watch as she shoves a crisp dollar bill into the machine and presses the fading blue buttons—the same combination for salt and vinegar chips. The vending machine whirs to life, creaking as if it's on its last breath, and drops one—no, two crinkly bags of chips to the bottom.
"Ooh, nice!" Mystery girl grins at you. Self-centered as it is, you can't help but feel partially responsible for that smile, even if all you did was inadvertently raise her cholesterol. "Here." She pushes one of the bags into your chest.
"For what?"
She shrugs. "Sharing is caring."
"Right, but—"
"Just take it." With a smile like that, how could you say no? You take the small bag of chips from her and stare at—it's the same light blue, with the same old logo and the same feeling of getting ripped off as you weigh it in your palm. Yet, there's something peculiar about it; not bad, just different. Like a Macguffin, or whatever your English Lit teacher called it—the bullet that'll send you falling into the abyss before you notice the trigger being pulled.
"Thanks," you say. "I'll pay you back next time—"
She's gone as quickly as she came.
As the aluminum bag crinkles between your fingers, your hunger is all but gone, replaced by something else. Something you can't quite put to words; something far bigger than you could've ever imagined.
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Then, it was an instinct.
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You dribble the ball against the concrete, eyes focused, knees primed and ready to dash at the first opening. A bead of sweat drips from your chin, but you ignore it—on the court, there's no room for distractions. From all the time you've known him, Min has always been a little taller, a little more muscular, but your skills overshadow any physical advantage he thinks he has.
Impatient as always, he reaches for the ball, only for him to misstep as you weave to the side and drive the ball to the hoop for an easy layup. Min slumps to the ground in utter defeat.
"You suck, man," you joke, offering him a hand.
"Whatever." Annoyed and exhausted, he swats your hand away. "The sun was in my eye that time."
"Was it in your eye the other 20 times I scored?"
"Fuck you," he snaps, making an unsuccessful attempt at kicking your leg before succumbing to the warm concrete underneath him. While he rests, you shut your eyes, feeling the breeze as it brushes past your cheeks. There's a simple joy of a sunny weekend on the court with your best friend—a thoroughly uncomplicated way of living, void of whatever headaches life tends to throw your way.
And then she shows up.
The second you open your eyes, you see her again, walking arm in arm with Chaewon, the resident chatterbox of the school. As usual, she's going off about some drama you don't bother to keep up with, arm gesticulating wildly, while Mystery Girl just nods along like she somehow understands every bit of Chaewon's barely coherent ramblings. Mystery Girl laughs, and you feel your chest tighten like it did before in front of the vending machine.
"Hey, Min," you utter, eyes glued to the pair on the sidewalk.
"Hm?"
"What's that girl's name? The one next to Chaewon."
Min brings his head up just enough to see the two of them in the distance. "Oh, her? I don't know, we don't share any classes. She's hot though," he chuckles.
Something about the way he regards her, like she's just another pretty face, irks you for reasons you can't put to words. You open your mouth to say something, but bite your tongue instead—what would you even say? He's not wrong, but... But what? You barely even know the girl. You don't even know her name.
With a huff, you pick up your basketball and toss it at Min's face.
"Agh! What the hell, man?!" he barks, rubbing his cheek.
"Get up. Let's run it back."
"I don't want to."
"Quit being a bitch and get up!" you say a little too aggressively. You peer cautiously to the side, hoping the girls didn't hear your outburst. Thankfully, Chaewon's loudmouth seems to have covered up for you
"Alright, fine!" Begrudgingly, Min grabs the ball and heads to the three-point line. "I don't even know why you're in such a bad mood, you're not the one who lost..." he mutters under his breath.
He checks the ball to you, starting the game. From behind him, you see Chaewon and Mystery Girl slowly nearing the basketball court. You try to focus on the game, but it gets increasingly harder to ignore the fluttering feel in your stomach that grows with every step she takes. Should you say hi? Give her a nonchalant nod? God, what is her fucking name??
Min rushes to the side, and you barely move in time to block him. He fakes back, sending you tripping to the ground and giving him an easy three-pointer.
"Oooh, get fucked!" he taunts, before shooting from the three-point line with all the grace of an injured deer. The ball ricochets off the rim, flying like a bullet through the air—right towards the girls.
"Shit, look out!" Min calls out. You're already on your feet, making a dash towards them. You fight past the heat, the exhaustion, the pain, each step fueled by this indescribable feeling in your stomach. Chaewon and Mystery Girl give you odd looks as you barrel towards them—who wouldn't be weirded out by a sweaty person sprinting at them?—before noticing the ball sailing right at their faces. Without thinking, you leap forward, swatting the ball away, before hitting the ground with a thud.
A sharp pain shoots through your shoulder like a thousand knives stabbing into your bones. And yet, the first thing you do is check if she's okay.
"Oh my god, are you alright?!" Mystery Girl asks, eyes wide with worry—those soft, round eyes like chewy boba, looking at you. For a moment, not a single word reaches your lips as your mind is too preoccupied by the girl in front of you. She kneels down next to you and inspects your arm, and you forget to breathe, to think, to function, her touch light and feathery against your skin.
"Y-yeah," you mutter, "I think I'm—FUCK!" A jolt of pain hits your shoulder, causing you to collapse back into the grass.
"I'm gonna call an ambulance!" Chaewon exclaims, already taking out her phone. God, this is so embarrassing. All of this because of a stupid basketball. Why do you even play this fucking game?
You sit up, trying to ignore the fact that you can barely move your shoulder. "I-I'm fine, Chaewon, it's just a scratch—"
"BRO!" To make matters worse, Min comes running towards you, getting the attention of the entire park in the process. "Are you okay?! Are you hurt?! How many fingers am I holding up?!"
You slap his hand away from your face in annoyance. "I'm fine! Just a scratch," you lie through gritted teeth.
"Can you move your arm?" Mystery Girl asks.
"U-uh, yeah, I can—" You fight back a groan as another wave of pain ripples beneath your flesh. Tears well up in your eyes, threatening to pour down and make you look like even more of a loser than you already do. "I-I just need some ice and I'll be good—"
"The ambulance is on its way!" Chaewon announces. A crowd starts to form around you, the sting of embarrassment hurting you way more than a broken bone ever could.
"Please, I don't need an ambulance—"
Before you can even react, Min scoops you up into his arms like a princess. A wave of mortification washes over you as you meet Mystery Girl's confused expression.
"Dude! What the fuck are you doing?!" With each passing second, your cheeks burn hotter and hotter.
"No time. I'm taking you to the hospital myself." Min starts sprinting in the opposite direction, with you bouncing around in his arms like some poor damsel in distress.
"Put me down, you fucking idio—FUCK!" Your attempts at loosening yourself from his grip only worsen the pain. Mystery Girl's lips part like she wants to say something, but all of it goes unheard under the haze of commotion and the voices in your head calling you a loser. Chaewon and Mystery Girl shrink in the distance, no doubt laughing about how stupid you must look.
All because she showed up.
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Finally: a long-awaited introduction.
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House parties—cesspools of mindless fun and bad decisions, where consequences only exist for tomorrow's self. Hormones are high, shitty alcohol litters the fridge, and cheap disco lights cover the room with a filter that gives you a mild headache; a perfect recipe for nothing life-changing to occur. Surely.
You find yourself in an odd corner of the living room, nursing a red solo cup and recounting the story of your broken arm to a group of people you've never met ("You should see the other guy!" you say; cool, nonchalant, actively-suppressing the memory of Min carrying you in his arms). Deserved or not, you might as well milk as much street cred as you can from this injury.
Eventually, the group disperses naturally and you're left to mingle around the room, shuffling your way through the crowd while trying not to hit your shoulder sling against anyone. You beeline it towards the kitchen to refill your cup—and there she is again.
Mystery Girl, her hair dyed a deep maroon that's just barely noticeable over the colored lights, talking to some guy you haven't seen before. That usual carefree look on her face is jarringly absent, replaced by a look that's all gray clouds before a storm. Some voice in the back of your mind tells you to intervene—go, be the hero and save the girl!—but from the desperation on the dude's face and the unwavering stoicism in hers, it seems like she has everything under control. Without a second glance at her, you refill your cup and head outside for some fresh air.
The chilly night breeze is sobering against your warm cheeks, reddened by the cheap booze in your system. Some stragglers linger outside the house, passing around a joint or invading each other's personal space. You find an empty spot around the side, just outside the range of the dingy streetlights, the cold brick walls pressing up against your back.
At one point or another, the novelty of a house party wears off and you're left wondering why you ever attend these things in the first place. Min never comes, always making the excuse of "alcohol ruining his physique," so you have no other choice but to tough these things out alone in search of a purpose. Are you trying to find a hookup? To feel like you belong? Some societal pressure that pushes you into following the herd? Hard to say. Maybe all of the above.
The sound of crunching grass nears the corner, and you brace yourself for the stoner asking for a light or the rowdy couple that couldn't find a vacant bedroom inside. Instead, you get a voice:
"Oh, it's you."
Like a magnet, your eyes snap towards the owner of that voice. Your chest tightens as Mystery Girl joins you on the wall, that charming smile aimed right at you.
"Hey," you greet her, the warmth on your cheeks from something more than just the booze.
"I saw you in the kitchen earlier," she remarks. "I thought you'd come say hi, but then you just left."
"Oh, right." She saw you? And she wanted you to say hi? "I didn't want to disturb your, uh... friend?"
She sighs, leaning her head back against the wall. "My ex. I didn't even know he'd be here."
"Oh. Bad break up?"
"You could say that." Her gaze drops to the floor and her smile fades soon after.
"Sorry, I didn't mean to—"
"It's alright, not your fault," she reassures you, meeting your eyes. "He dumped me out of nowhere a couple months ago. Turns out he was cheating and got the girl pregnant."
"Yikes. That sucks."
"Eh," she shrugs, "I've made peace with it. He found out today that the kid's not even his and now he wants me back."
Your jaw drops. "What the fuck?! That's crazy. You're not gonna take him back, are you?"
Mystery Girl chuckles at the thought. "Hell no! No way am I dating that slime ball again!"
The two of you share a laugh that dissolves into a comfortable silence. She looks up at the sky, a blank sheet of indigo thanks to all the light pollution, and you follow her gaze because what the hell else are you supposed to do? As you stand here, just barely brushing shoulders with this girl you barely know, all the shitty beers and awkward encounters from every party you've been to all seem worth it. This could be the start of something bigger, or just a brief and fleeting moment in your lifetime; whatever it is, you want to hold it close to your chest until it's gone.
"So," she utters, breaking the silence, "how's your arm?"
"This ol' thing?" You raise up your sling as high as your shoulder will allow you. "Doesn't even hurt."
"Wow, you're so tough and macho," she quips, rolling her eyes playfully. "Thanks, by the way."
"For what?"
"For jumping in front of the ball so I didn't get hit. It was... cool."
"Cool?" You raise a brow at her. "Did I look cool when I was being carried away like a princess?"
She giggles—you've never loved a sound more. "Hey, princesses can be cool too! Like, Mulan and that red-head with the bow."
Now it's your turn to giggle. "Okay yeah, but all I did was dive after a stupid ball and—"
"Oh shit!" Suddenly, Mystery Girl pins you against the wall, hands snaked behind your neck and her face close enough to see your reflection in your eyes.
"W-what are you—"
"Just shut up for a second!" she hisses. Her eyes immediately soften. "Please?"
Unable to think properly, you stay frozen in that position, one spontaneous decision away from a kiss. The alcohol has all but flushed out of your system, replaced with this lingering heat in your chest. Every passing second feels like an eternity, an eternity that you're not sure you want to leave for fear of what would happen next. But, like all good things, this moment comes to an end as she pulls away.
"Phew," she sighs, "sorry about that. I thought I saw my ex walking past and just, uh, y'know..."
"Y-yeah, no worries, um..." The tension in the air thickens, and you worry that the darkness isn't enough to hide the burning red of your cheeks.
Thankfully, the awkward silence doesn't last for long as Chaewon rounds the corner.
"There you are, Sakura!" So that's her name. "I've been looking everywhere for you! Oh, hey," Chaewon says, offering you a brief nod.
"Why? Is something wrong?" Mystery Gir—er, Sakura asks.
Chaewon sighs and pinches the bridge of her nose in exasperation. "It's a long story. Can we leave? I want a pizza." As if finally realizing your presence, Chaewon suddenly straightens up, eyes squinted as she looks back and forth between the two of you. "Am I interrupting something?"
"N-no, nothing!"
"W-we're just talking and, uh—"
"I was just getting some fresh air and bumped into him—"
"I was actually just about to leave, so—"
"Alright, alright, damn!" Chaewon exclaims, causing the both of you to clam up. "Anyways, can we go now?"
Sakura looks back at you, a look of uncertainty in her eyes. You give her a nod. "Uh, yeah sure, we can leave," she says.
"Cool, I'll call us an uber. I'll let you two finish whatever the hell this is." Chaewon stomps off, leaving the two of you to... finish?
"Um—"
"So—"
The two of you share a chuckle, relieving some of the tension. "You can go first," you offer.
"Right." She tucks a stray piece of hair behind her ear, and you swear your heart stops beating for a whole second. "Um, sorry about earlier. I swear I'm not usually like that. I just saw my ex and I sorta panicked and, uh, yeah."
"Like I said, no worries. Shit happens."
Sakura meets your eyes—the tingling feeling in your chest explodes, reaching to all the corners of your being until every cell buzzes with pure electricity. Something about the way her eyes peer at you, the way her lips smile at you, the way her touch still lingers on your nape makes you want to run away and never look back.
You must've been staring for too long as the sound of Sakura's soft laughter breaks you out of your spell. "Do you have a staring problem or something?" she teases.
"Yes. No. Maybe?"
"You're strange." She starts to walk back, each step slow and playful, like she doesn't want to leave quite yet. "I'll see you around?"
"Yeah." You smile back at her. "Definitely."
You watch as her silhouette disappears around the corner, and you stay watching long after she's hoping, slightly hoping that she'll pop back, even if it's just for a brief moment.
Sakura—the first coming of Spring.
Like pink petals littering the roads, remnants of her will be present in everything around you—your ears will hear the sound of her laughter where her voice is absent, your eyes will look for her face in every crowd, your mind will be filled to the brim with all of her moments—whether you like it or not.
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Somehow, despite this strange man you’ve never met before snaking his hands through your shirt, all you can think about is what you’re going to say to her. Will a simple “hello” suffice? Should you open with an old inside joke? A cliche “long time, no see”? Will she even remember you after all these years?
“Dude,” the strange man mutters, his deadpan eyes staring at you but not quite looking at you.
“O-oh, sorry. Were you saying something?” you ask nervously.
“I need you to speak into the mic to check if it’s working properly,” he says, pointing at the collar of your shirt.
You peer down and notice a black fuzzy ball sticking out from your collar. If he hadn’t pointed it out to you beforehand, you would have definitely jumped and made yourself look like an even bigger fool than you probably already do. “R-right. Uh, hello? One, two, three, testing?”
He looks back at a man some distance away, fiddling with knobs on a small black box as he listens to your audio through his chunky headphones. A tense moment passes before he flashes a thumbs up in your direction.
“All right, you’re all good,” he utters before walking off without another word, leaving you completely stranded amidst this flurry of chaos. Screaming children running around, the distant rumble of roller coasters, a food stand selling trendy overpriced products every two steps—normal things you would see at an amusement park. What’s not normal is the couple dozen people around you handling all kinds of expensive-looking camera and audio equipment. If you had to bet, the fuzzy little ball clipped to your collar probably costs more than your rent.
You had no idea what you were getting into when you first signed up for that fan event. Winning a chance to film a variety show with a member of IVE seemed too good to be true, but after you found out that you would be filming it with her, entering the event was a no-brainer. By some stroke of luck, you’re now here in the middle of an amusement park, all but abandoned while jolly children’s songs and the incessant beeping of walkie-talkies makes it difficult to hear yourself think.
“Hey you!” A booming voice somehow cuts through all the noise, and you suddenly find yourself face to face with another man you’ve never met before. Unlike everyone else, however, he seems much more relaxed, even happy to be here. Despite his bulging muscles barely contained in his Hawaiian shirt, his steps are lightweight and peppy compared to the scrambling of footsteps of his subordinates, and the wrinkles outlining his wide smile are a testament to his years of experience in… whatever it is that he does.
You let out a sigh of relief as his demeanor puts you at ease in an instant. “Hello, sir,” you greet him.
He forcefully takes your hand into a firm handshake, almost jerking your arm out of its socket. “I’m Mr. Park, I’m the production director of today’s shoot!” he says, his voice loud and boisterous. “You must be our star for today!”
“I-I wouldn’t say that,” you mutter bashfully.
“Nonsense!” he guffaws. “I just wanna give you a quick little rundown of what we’re gonna be filming today. Basically, you’re just gonna go around the amusement park, hang out and talk with the idol, maybe even flirt a bit, y’know, play it up for the cameras.” Mr. Park punctuates his explanation with a hearty chuckle and a friendly elbow to your rib. What a guy.
“Uh, yeah, sure, I can do that—”
Suddenly, he pulls you close, donning a deathly serious expression that sends a chill down your spine. “If you do anything to ruin today’s shoot, I have a six foot hole in the middle of the woods with your name on it, if you catch my drift.”
Before you even have time to process what he said, Mr. Park walks off like nothing happened, his pearly whites gleaming as if he didn’t just threaten to end you moments before. You figured there would be some oddballs in this industry, but you didn’t expect it to be this insane. If things are like this after barely an hour here, you can only imagine what her daily life is like.
“There she is!” You hear Mr. Park’s voice in the distance as a group of burly men all clad in black approaches the set. Judging by their appearance, you can tell that they’re bodyguards, which means the person their protecting is—
“Hello, Mr. Park! It’s nice to see you again!” The two bodyguards at the front part, giving way for Gaeul to walk through and shake hands with Mr. Park. Your breath catches in your throat at the mere sight of her and all the greetings you’ve rehearsed in your head all morning flutter away like butterflies.
You suddenly feel like a little kid again, waiting at her front door so the two of you can go look for frogs or build a castle out of anything you could find in the forest near your houses. Before she was Gaeul, one of the stars of IVE and adored by billions of people around the world, she was simply Gaeul, your best friend that was never afraid to get her hands dirty for the sake of adventure. She was the girl that made your world feel a little less lonely.
And yet, despite her being right in front of you for the first time in years, the distance between you has never felt so far.
As Gaeul and Mr. Park approaches you, you inhale a shaky breath, trying your best to calm your nerves.
“...and this gentleman over here,” Mr. Park explains as he gestures towards you, “is the lucky fan who you’ll be spending the day with!”
You catch her eyes, and for a moment, everything around you seems to vanish. You know deep in your gut that it’s her, but she looks so… beautiful. Instead of the oversized hand-me-downs from her brother, she’s wearing clothes that actually fit her properly—a flower top, a pink cardigan, and a frilly black skirt that shows off her legs in a way that baggy cargo shorts never could. Her hair and makeup is perfectly and meticulously done up, you would mistake her for a doll if you walked by her too fast. Every trace of the Gaeul you once knew is gone—except for her eyes and the way they still light up when they meet yours.
“H-hi,” you stutter, extending a trembling hand towards her. “It’s, uh, nice to meet you.”
She pauses, glancing down at your hand before looking back up at your eyes. A smile creeps up on her glossy lips, and then the scent of strawberry shampoo assaults your senses in the most pleasant way possible as she wraps her arms around your neck in a warm embrace.
“It’s nice to see you again, small fry,” she says softly.
In a past life, you would’ve been annoyed by that silly little nickname—it’s not your fault that your growth spurt hit you later than hers did—but hearing it after so long fills you with an immense amount of happiness that you can’t quite describe. She still remembers you.
“Ehem,” Mr. Park clears his throat, reminding you of the involuntary audience witnessing your reunion. With heat racing towards your cheeks, you reluctantly free Gaeul from your arms. “Do, uh, do you two know each other?”
“He was my best friend back in middle school before I became a trainee,” she explains, beaming. ”We were inseparable back then.”
Mr. Park approaches you, his expression growing dark just like it did before. “Kid…” he mumbles, his voice low. Suddenly, he grabs onto your shoulder with a vice-like grip and lifts you off the ground until your legs are dangling helplessly in the air.
“U-uh, Mr. Park? W-what are you—”
“You. Are. A. Godsend!” he exclaims, now back to his cheery self. “This’ll be great for ratings! I can see the headlines now: ‘IVE Gaeul’s unlikely reunion with an old friend!’ If I wasn’t happily married to my wife of seven years, I would kiss you right now!” Finally, he drops you back on your feet and hurriedly struts away, yelling at the staff members. “Let’s get this show on the road, folks! Time is money and I don’t wanna lose a single penny!”
Gaeul pats your shoulder, not even trying to stifle a laugh at your bewildered expression. “Are you alright? Mr. Park has a few screws loose, but I promise you he’s nice.”
Her touch immediately puts you at ease as you let out a chuckle of your own. “Well, my dignity is at an all time low, but what’s new?”
If you had to embarrass yourself in front of a member of IVE, at least it’s the one that’s already seen you at your absolute worst. Like no time has passed at all, the two of you slip back into comfortable patterns of banter. There’s so much you want to tell her. Milestones she missed, horrific first dates, and a plethora of other Gaeul-less memories that you know she’ll tease you for.
“I still can’t believe it’s you, small fry,” she says. “You look great.”
“I’m not sure if you can call me that anymore,” you playfully shoot back. Getting your growth spurt before she went off to be an idol would’ve saved you a childhood of torment by her hand, but hey, better late than never.
“Oh whatever, I’ll call you whatever I damn want to.”
With a smirk, she walks off as Mr. Park calls on the two of you to get ready for filming. You always imagined your reunion to be a little more peaceful, maybe on a random chilly evening at a coffee shop, but the specifics don’t matter to you. What matters is that Gaeul is finally here, right in front of you.
You can finally do what you failed to do back in middle school.
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You’re wise enough to know that not everything you see on these kinds of shows is real, but you never realized just how scripted it all is. From the activities you do to the things you say, you feel more like a robot following commands than a regular person spending the day at an amusement park. Gaeul takes everything in stride, seemingly used to this kind of environment, but not having the freedom to properly speak to Gaeul leaves a bad taste in your mouth.
“Listen up, you two!” Mr. Park calls out from behind the camera. “You’re gonna look through the gift shop, try some things on, give a few compliments, big reactions y’know, really play it up for the camera and whatnot. Oh, and Gaeul?”
“Yes?” She tilts her head.
“Keep calling him that little nickname, uh ‘teeny fry’ or whatever it is.”
She cracks a little smirk in your direction. “Sure thing, Mr. Park.”
You sigh, masking your dismay with a neutral expression. “Why are we going to the gift shop first? Isn’t this what people do last?” you ask Gaeul.
She responds with a simple shrug. “I’ve learned not to question things and just go with the flow.”
“Huh?” You dramatically gasp in faux shock. “Are you sure you’re the Gaeul I know? Because I’m pretty sure I remember you annoying the substitute teacher with questions about frogs until they stormed out in the middle of class.”
“That’s different!” she exclaims. “Besides, that was so long ago, I’m basically a different person now.”
“Yeah, I noticed. You actually dress like a girl now.”
“Oh my god, don’t even remind me!” Her cheeks turn a cherry red as memories of her tragic middle school fashion choices come back to haunt her. “It’s a miracle that I even got casted in the first place looking like that.”
You let out a laugh. “You look good now though. Seriously.”
“Just good?” Gaeul says, offended. She steps back and gives you a little twirl, showcasing her entire outfit in all its glory. “Last time you saw me, I was wearing my brother’s old cargo shorts, and you’re telling me that I only look good?!”
“I-I didn’t— I mean…” There’s so many things you want to say, words and phrases rehearsed over years of imagining what your reunion would be like. Finally, you have the opportunity to say it out loud to her face. So just say it.
“Y-you look bea—”
“ALRIGHT, PLACES EVERYBODY!!!’ Mr. Park shouts. Before you can finish your thought, Gaeul hurries to her spot where the director told the two of you to start. You shake your head, coming to your senses and following her to your spot. Not great timing, but there will be other chances later.
Once the cameras start rolling, the two of you enter the gift shop, looking around at all the overpriced products the shop has to offer. T-shirts, headbands, hats, mini figurines of the amusement park’s mascot, just about anything a child could want and a parent would dread to buy. Like Mr. Park instructed, you do your best to give off big reactions, but frankly, this place is the least exciting part about going to an amusement park. Gaeul, on the other hand, plays it off like a true professional.
“Wow, look at this place!” she exclaims, her voice an octave higher than her regular speaking voice. “Oh my gosh, everything is so cute!”
“Y-yeah, wow! So cute!” you awkwardly parrot. Thankfully, the cameras are mainly following Gaeul, so your poor attempts at acting go unnoticed by the crew.
Gaeul takes one of the shirts off the hangers and puts it to your chest. “What do you think about this shirt, small fry? I’ll buy it for you if you want!” she says, punctuating her statement with a wink.
You chuckle in an attempt to hide the heat creeping up your face. “I’d rather launch myself into the sun than wear that ugly shirt,” you quip.
“CUT!” Mr. Park barks. “Hey kid, the park is allowing us to film here for a discounted fee, so maybe don’t talk bad about their merchandise.”
“A-ah… Right, sorry…”
Gaeul stifles a chuckle, putting the shirt back on the hanger. “It’s okay, they can just edit that part out,” she says in an attempt to console you. Unlike seconds before, her voice is back down to her usual tone.
“Uh, why are you doing that thing with your voice?” you ask.
“What thing?” She stares at you with a curious expression, one that holds not even a hint of joking.
“Uh… Nevermind.” Like she said, learn not to question things.
“Alright, let’s try this again, without the sass this time,” Mr. Park says, gesturing specifically to you. “Action!”
In an instant, Gaeul springs back into her idol persona, cheerfully skipping through each aisle and pointing out every little thing. “I wish I could buy everything in the store!”
“You probably could with your net worth,” you instinctively joke. Remembering what happened before, your eyes peer carefully towards Mr. Park, who thankfully smirks at your little jest. Relieved, you decide to do what he said before and try some “flirting”.
You grab a frog headband from one of the shelves and hand it to Gaeul. “Why don’t you try this on? I think it would look cute on you.” Something about talking to her this way leaves an odd, warm feeling in your stomach. Not bad, per se, but different.
She takes the headband from you and tries it on. “What do you think, small fry?” she asks, posing more for the cameras than for you. “Am I stealing your heart with this look?
A rush of heat floods your head at her idol fan service. It’s not the first time you’ve seen her do this kind of thing, but there’s a huge difference in seeing it through a screen and seeing it in person, directed right at you. You thought you would cringe or laugh, but you’re not even sure how to react anymore with the pounding of your heart in your ears.
“U-uh, sure, yeah, whatever…” you mutter. You expected a witty comeback from her, poking fun at your barely coherent mumblings, but instead, you feel Gaeul’s arm link with yours as she pulls you towards one of the mirrors hanging on the walls. In all the confusion, she somehow managed to put a dog headband on your head.
“Ah, we look so cute!” she exclaims, her high-pitched voice ringing in your ears.
You stare back at the reflection, forgetting all about the cameras as you take in every single detail. Gaeul linking her arms with yours, smiling at you with that silly little frog headband on. It’s almost as if you’re looking into a portal to an alternate universe where Gaeul never moved away. Where the two of you ended up as a… couple.
That warm feeling fills your stomach at the thought—but this time, it’s mixed with guilt. Gaeul never accomplished her dreams in that universe, and for what? Sure, you get more time with her and grow up alongside her, but she doesn’t become that big star that she always dreamed about being. There’s no point in clinging onto “what if’s”. Life played out like this and now you have to accept it.
“Hey.” Gaeul nudges your side, her voice back down to its usual octave. Her eyes gaze at you with worry. “You alright? Mr. Park yelled ‘cut’ a minute ago.”
You shake your head, ridding yourself of stray thoughts. “Y-yeah, I’m fine,” you reassure her. “Being in front of cameras has got me a little nervous, I guess.”
“Don’t worry about it, you’re doing great. Nice job playing it up for the cameras,” she compliments before walking off to the next filming location.
Yeah… Just for the cameras…
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The ferris wheel stands high and mighty, casting long shadows on the park grounds. It is the quintessential amusement park ride that everyone loves, including you. Stuck in a small, cramped box high in the sky, with a perfect view of the setting sun, it’s all so… romantic.
Scratch that thought from your mind. You’re not here for any ulterior motives other than filming this show and catching up with an old friend. That’s it. Nothing else.
“So, obviously we can’t fit an entire camera crew in one of those boxes, so we went ahead and fitted it with some cameras and mics to properly capture everything,” Mr. Park explains to you and Gaeul. “Just do what I said—act natural, big reactions—and everything should be smooth sailing from here.” Sounds contradictory, but you’re not about to talk back to a guy that threatened to bury you deep in the woods.
After he finishes explaining, the ride attendant helps you and Gaeul into the ride, and you begin your ascent into the sky. It feels like cruel irony, finally getting the chance to spend alone time with Gaeul, but not actually getting to spend alone time with her.
With a sigh, you muster up the biggest fake smile you can and start to act. “Wow, ferris wheels are so fun, I can’t wait to—”
“You can drop the act now,” Gaeul chuckles.
Your head tilts in curiosity. “What do you mean? Didn’t Mr. Park say that—”
“I convinced some of the crew to turn off the cameras this time around,” she explains. “We’ll have to ride again and play up the reactions, but for this time at least, we can just talk.”
You let out a sigh of relief and slump back into your seat. Finally. “Thank God for your influence, I don’t know if I could keep up the acting.”
She smiles, mimicking your movements and lazing against the seat across from you. “Yeah, that’s probably one of the things I like least about this job.”
“Man, it must be tiring putting on a mask every single day for the cameras.”
She shrugs. “It could be worse. At least I get to do this with you, small fry.” Gaeul flashes a bright smile at you, and unlike the smile she dons while the cameras are rolling, you can feel the genuine warmth travel from across the booth. “So, have you been after all this time? I’m sure you have a bunch of stories from the years we’ve been apart.”
“So many,” you reply. “I don’t even know where to start.”
“How about high school? I never got to properly experience it for myself, y’know.”
“Right, wow, okay.” You sit up, barely able to contain your excitement at the chance to properly talk about things with her. “So, freshman year, I—”
“Is that the first one?”
“Yeah, it’s the first one,” you answer, chuckling at her curious expression. “So, freshman year, it’s a new school, whole bunch of new people, and obviously you weren’t around anymore, so I decided to join a school club.”
“Wow, really? You were basically attached to my hip all throughout middle school, I never thought you’d actually go out of your way to join a club,” she teases. “What club was it?”
“It was, uh…” You clear your throat, suddenly feeling very embarrassed under her gaze. “...the esports club.” You brace yourself for the incoming barrage of mockery and laughter, but instead, you’re met with Gaeul’s eyes brightening with awe.
“That makes so much sense, you always were good at video games!” she compliments. “How was it, were you any good?”
With your ego now inflated, you smirk and cross your arms. “Not to brag, but I did carry my team to 2nd place of the state championships,” you boast.
“Hey, that’s amazing!”
You can hear it in her voice, plain as day, that there’s not a hint of sarcasm or malice behind her words—she’s genuinely impressed by your silly little esports accolades. Being part of that club did little to boost your popularity and only served to make you the target of some bullying, but it was also some of your most cherished memories from high school. When you felt lost navigating that new environment without Gaeul, that club was the only thing keeping you together.
“Oh, I have to ask—what were school dances like?” Gaeul inquires, a glint of curiosity in her eyes.
You let out a heavy sigh as you think about all the bad experiences at each school dance. If the esports club was the highest high of your high school days, then school dances were your lowest lows.
“They were… not great. For me, at least. I was probably an outlier for that kind of thing,” you mutter, sinking back into your seat as the weight of those awful experiences pulls you down.
“Oh… sorry,” Gaeul says, your gaze drifting to the side. “Why, did you have a bad date or something?”
“I had no date, Gaeul. I was in the esports club,” you clarify. “Besides, I never bothered trying to ask out a girl during high school anyways.”
“Why not? You’re a nice guy, I’m sure any girl would’ve been lucky to go out with you!” she exclaims.
You chuckle. “Thanks for the vote of confidence, but there wasn’t really anyone I wanted to ask to a school dance.”
“Really? Not a single person you had a crush on?” She leans into you with curiosity, not realizing the proximity of your faces. You can see every single detail of the visage that you grew up with, analyzing how much has changed and yet still stayed the same. Those big, round eyes that light up when you mention frogs or crack a clever joke. The puff of her cheeks every time she tries—and fails—to hold in a laugh. The curve of her pretty lips whenever she calls you “small fry”. Remnants of your childhood together, still visible on the face you haven’t stopped thinking about ever since she left.
You lean back in your seat, the lack of space becoming too overwhelming. “I-I, um…”
“Aha! You did have a crush on someone!” she shouts excitedly. “Who was it? You better tell me their name, or else!”
“U-uh, h-her name? Um… Uh… A-autumn,” you sputter out nervously, too frazzled to think straight. Great job, you idiot. ‘Autumn”? Now she’s gonna know that you have a crush on—
“What a pretty name! Was she cute?”
“Huh?” Dumbfounded, you decide to take it and roll with it. “Uh, I mean, yeah, she was cute.”
“What was she like?”
“She was…” You pause, collecting your thoughts. The ferris wheel nears its peak as rays of sunset peek through the window, lighting up your carriage with an evening glow. “She was unimaginably amazing. She was strong and confident and determined and never let anyone’s words affect her. Whatever she wanted to accomplish, she could do it and make it look easy. She was also incredibly kind and hilarious and curious about the world around her, always asking questions with this admirable crave for more knowledge. And she was…”
At last, your carriage is lifted to the highest point of the ferris wheel. Like a spotlight, the setting sun projects the last of its light onto Gaeul’s face, illuminating her like the star that she was born to be. Mother nature paints her with the most beautiful shades of golden brown, casting an aura that only you get the luxury of seeing.
“...she’s beautiful.”
“Wow,” Gaeul breathes. The light from the sunset fades as it falls behind the horizon, yet Gaeul continues to glow with an aura that only you can see. “You must have really liked her, huh?”
“Y-yeah, I did…” you utter softly. “...but it was never gonna work out. She had big things planned, and I was always too nervous to ask her out anyways, so… it’s whatever.”
“That sucks.” She leans her head against the window and takes a deep breath. The excitement she held in her expression earlier disappears, revealing something more real, more vulnerable. “I’m actually kinda jealous of you, y’know.”
“Really? Why?”
She sighs. “I never got to experience any of that for myself—clubs, dances, crushes… all of it. Once I became a trainee, every single day was dedicated to training, with barely any time for fun or enjoyment or a social life. Some days, we’d barely even have time to eat or sleep.”
You always saw Gaeul as this bright ball of energy, even when she was on your screen as IVE’s Gaeul. To see her like this is something else entirely.
“When things were the hardest, I’d think about you,” she says, a melancholic grin growing on her lips. “I’d think about all the fun adventures we had and imagine all the new adventures we could’ve had. I wondered what you were doing, if you were even thinking about me…”
Every single day.
“I’d pray that when I wake up the next morning, I would be back in my old bedroom and you would be waiting outside my door like you always did, and then we’d run off to the forest and do whatever we wanted. No expectations, no late nights, just pure freedom.”
The urge to comfort her makes your heart ache. You want to hold her in your arms and tell her what you really feel. Tell her that the day she left was the day that your entire world came crashing down. Tell her to take your hand and run away with you, live the life that you’ve been dreaming of since you were kids. Tell her how much she means to you and that you never want to be away from her again.
But you don’t. You bite your tongue, suppressing all the feelings threatening to bubble up. She worked hard to get where she is, pouring blood, sweat, and tears into the dream she’s been talking about since the two of you were kids. You’re not going to ruin that for her just for your own selfish reasons.
“On the bright side, look where you are now!” you say in an attempt to cheer her up. “World famous Kpop star, loved by billions all over the world. A-and I turned out okay too, so, y’know… Everything is good.” Despite your attempt to sound cheerful, the weight of your true feelings seeps into your words. The carriage fills with a heavy tension that hangs in the air.
“Yeah,” she mutters, her gaze falling to the darkening scenery outside. “Everything is just… great.”
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“ALRIGHT PEOPLE, LAST SCENE OF THE DAY! AFTER THE TEST RUN, WE ONLY HAVE ONE CHANCE, SO LET’S MAKE IT COUNT!” Mr. Park yells, his voice the epicenter of all the commotion.
After a couple more hours of rides and other attractions, it was time to finish filming the final part of the episode, the fireworks show. For the most part, the last couple hours of filming went smoothly, aside from the fact that Gaeul wouldn’t talk to you when the cameras weren’t rolling. The shift from her idol persona back to her regular self was eerie enough already, but seeing all that faux joy disappear the second Mr. Park yelled “cut” filled you with an all-new kind of dread. Is this it? Are you just going to finish filming and leave things like this, without knowing if you’ll ever get the chance to see her again?
You spot her in the distance, getting her makeup touched up by her makeup artist. The sea of frantic staff members never seems to end, but you push through anyway, determined to patch things up before the night ends.
“Gaeul!” you call out to her. “Can we ta—”
Her brick wall of a bodyguard stops you in your tracks with a firm grip on your shoulder.
“Ms. Gaeul would like to be left alone.”
“I just need to—Ah!” His grip tightens on your shoulder until you feel like it’s about to be ripped from its socket.
“I said, she wants to be left alone.”
You huff in frustration. “Look man, my best friend in the whole entire world is upset with me right now and I need to fix this, so would you please cut me some slack and let me talk to her for five fucking minutes!?” Despite the pain in your shoulder becoming borderline unbearable, you muster up the most threatening look you can. Thankfully, his grip on you loosens and your arm somehow doesn’t pop off from your body. Did he actually get scared by the look you gave him?
“It’s okay, Mr. Kim,” Gaeul says, walking out from behind him. Go figure. “I got it.”
Her bodyguard backs off, giving the two of you some space to talk. “Thanks, I was worried Mr. Park would have to CGI me a new arm,” you joke, trying to ease the tension. Gaeul’s lips curl slightly into a grin as she shakes her head at your dumb joke. It’s not much, but it’s progress. “Can we talk—”
“Follow me.” She walks off without another word, away from the filming location. Not wanting to get on her bad side again, you follow her in silence.
Gaeul leads you through the bustling crowds, down a narrow, unlit pathway tucked between two food stalls. The sounds of the park grow fainter with each step until all you can hear is your own breathing and the echo of your footsteps. As long as you’re able to clear the air with her, it doesn’t matter where she takes you. You’d gladly walk all the way to the ends of the Earth if it means you won’t part on bad terms.
Finally, Gaeul stops at a small, secluded lookout point. A sturdy railing, its paint chipped from years of wear and tear, stretches across the edge of the platform, offering a view of the whole amusement park below.
“Back when we were trainees, the company let us visit this exact amusement park as a reward for doing well on a monthly evaluation,” Gaeul explains, leaning against the railing. “We ended up finding this quiet little area. It gives the best view of the fireworks show.”
You take your spot next to her and look out at the park below. Multicolored lights dance freely in the night sky to the unpredictable tune of the park goers’ joyous screams. You can’t help but grin at the thought of a younger Gaeul being able to relive a piece of her childhood that she missed out on.
“It must have been a lot of fun,” you say.
“I wouldn’t really know.”
“Hm? What do you mean?”
A pensive escapes her lips into the open air. “I mean, it was fun, but… I just couldn’t stop looking for your face in every person we passed by.”
“Oh.”
“While the others were watching the fireworks, I was looking down at the crowd, hoping that I could see you again.”
“I-I, uh… I’m sorry, Gaeul—”
She lets out a hollow snicker, the sound barely carrying any amusement—just exhaustion. “What do you have to be sorry for? I should be the one apologizing. Back in the ferris wheel, when you said that ‘everything is good’, I just… I don’t know, I just broke down. Hearing you say that made me feel like you… forgot about me.”
“Hey,” you utter gently, placing your hand on her shoulder. “It doesn’t matter how long it’s been; you’re my best friend, Gaeul. I would never forget about you. Not a day has gone by where I haven’t thought about you.”
She turns to you, a cute pout on her lips and her eyes glistening with tears. “Really?”
“Of course, dummy,” you chuckle. “And it’s kinda hard to forget you when I see you literally everywhere.”
Gaeul rests her head on your shoulder, her chest rising and falling with gentle laughter. “I’m sorry for being an idiot and ignoring you all day, small fry.”
Tentatively, you wrap your arm around her shoulder, pulling her close. “It’s okay. I’m just glad I was able to talk to you before the day ended.” You feel her snuggle into your side, the warmth from her body a thousand times better than you could ever imagine it. The pounding of your heart echoes in your ears, screaming at you to say something.
You gulp in an attempt to quell your nerves. “A-actually, I’ve also, uh, been an idiot today. There’s something I need to tell you that I should’ve told you earlier.”
She shifts to look up at you, her eyes beaming like stars in the night sky. “What is it?”
“I-I, um… Gaeul, I—”
A ball of fire shoots upwards into the sky and bursts into a sparkling flurry of bright red. More follow soon after, whizzing past and painting the indigo sky with an array of colors. Gaeul excitedly climbs up the railing to get a better view, her expression filling up with a joy more genuine than any reaction she showed in front of the cameras.
Your heart aches as you look up at her—you love her. You love her so much that you want to scream it from the top of your lungs until your voice grows hoarse. Today could be the last time you ever see her. You need to tell her. Forget about all the consequences and just say it.
Gaeul turns to look down at you, a smirk playing on her lips. “This angle seems a bit familiar, don’t you think?” she teases, ruffling your hair. The chilly night air enters your lungs. Every color of the rainbow reflects against her perfect skin. All caution is thrown to the wind.
You push yourself onto your tippy toes and press your lips against hers.
The kiss couldn’t have been more than a second, just a mere peck, but the feeling still lingers on your lips like electricity. A long moment passes with nothing but the crackling of fireworks filling the space between you. The overwhelming heat against your cheeks makes it nearly impossible to make out her reaction. Is she disgusted? Upset? Angry?
Yet, all of your worries melt away as Gaeul falls into your arms, capturing your lips in hers once again. Years of pining and waiting, watching her fancams until the ungodly hours of the night, showing support for her in any way you can without ever knowing if she’ll notice your efforts, all of it culminates into that sweet, tender kiss. Tomorrow brings a plethora of unknown challenges, but all that matters is right now, in each other’s arms where you’ve been dying to be.
You break the kiss for a moment, a truth you’ve been waiting to release resting on your tongue. “Gaeul, I love you—”
“I know,” she interrupts, her voice light and airy. “I love you too, small fry. So, so, so much.”
Your lips break into a smile so wide your cheeks start to ache. “Not that I’m complaining, but how did you know—”
“Autumn? Really?” she teases, her hands cupping your cheek. “You might as well have confessed to me in that ferris wheel.”
You sink your face into her touch, treasuring every second of warmth. “I wish I did. Maybe then we would’ve had more time to be like this before we have to say goodbye.”
“I’m never, ever leaving your side again, you hear me? The company will just have to deal with it.”
You let yourself get lost in her lips once again, with no intention of ever finding your way back. The road ahead will no doubt be filled with hardships and uncertainties, but there’s no one else you would rather start this adventure with than the girl that made your world a little less lonely.
The art club room was quiet, like most afternoons. It was your only source of relief from the stress of grades, your parents, and daily life in general. Last year, when you were a junior, it used to be bustling with life, but after all your seniors graduated and your failure to recruit new members thanks to your social ineptitude, you were the art club’s sole member this year. It’s not like you minded—painting was easier when it was quiet and you practically never ran out of supplies since you were the only one using them.
You set your canvas atop an easel and grabbed a tube for every paint color, just in case. The light of the sun shone through the window, inviting you to look outside for inspiration. With a deep breath and a clear mind, you gaze through the window pane in search of your next subject. A couple seconds of gazing turns into a minute. One minute turns into two. Two minutes turns into five. Five minutes turns into half an hour. Nothing. Looking out that window five days a week for more than a year has completely drained the view of any inspiration. The wooded area beyond the school grounds has remained unchanged, and the school’s soccer field wasn’t exactly an enticing subject to paint. With a disappointed sigh, you decide to pack it in early tonight and head home. However, right as you start to pack up, you hear the door open abruptly.
“Oh, sorry, is this the wrong r—Woah.”
The prettiest girl you have ever laid eyes on steps through the door, examining the various paintings adorning the walls with awe. “Oh my god, these are beautiful. Did you paint these?” she asks, directing her attention towards you.
You flinch, startled by the sudden question. “U-uh, a couple of them…” you murmur. Painting was one of the things you considered yourself to be good at. For others, it was studying or sports. For you, it was skillfully using a brush to fill a blank canvas with what you considered art. However, none of your pieces could even compare to the beauty of the girl standing before you.
“Wow, you’re really talented!” she says, flashing a wide grin at you that makes your heart skip a beat. “My name’s Julie, I just moved here recently.” She extends a welcoming hand towards you, which you ungracefully accept with a shaky hand.
“Th-thanks… I-I’m Woohyuk. U-um, what are you doing here?” you ask her, silently praying that she’s here to join the art club.
“Oh right, I was trying to find the room for the hip-hop club, but I guess I got lost.” Julie chuckles cutely at her mistake. Your heart sank a little, but her warm smile lifted your spirits instantly. A warm blush graces your cheeks as you mentally trace every detail of her face, afraid that she would disappear forever the second you blinked. Her silky coffee hair perfectly framed her face, the glistening pink hue of her lip gloss coated her plump lips which curled into a smile that made your heart soar, and the slight puffiness of her eyes made her look endearing, like a cat that just woke up from a nap.
“Uhh, Woohyuk? Are you alright?” she asks with a worried expression. You shake your head, embarrassed that you were caught staring.
“Y-yeah, I’m fine. The hip-hop club is two doors down,” you answer, averting your gaze for fear of getting caught in another trance.
“That’s so close! I should stop by here every once in a while, this place is cool,” Julie giggles as she backs up towards the door, never breaking eye contact with you. “Thanks, Woohyuk! I’ll see you around!” she waves before shutting the door.
You stand there in silence, taking in the brief yet memorable interaction. Without hesitation, you set up your canvas and your paints once again, reinvigorated with a new passion.
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You end up getting home an hour later than usual. Your parents had some stern words for you upon entering the door, but they believed the lie you told them about helping out a teacher after the art club ended. Truthfully, you lost track of time trying to paint Julie, but no amount of skill or experience could truly capture her essence. Was it creepy to try and paint a girl you just met? Maybe. Definitely. But this was the first time in a while that you felt truly inspired to paint, and with the school festival right around the corner, you needed something breathtaking to display amongst your other mundane pieces.
That night, you stared at the dark ceiling of your room, finding it impossible to sleep. The shadows began to shift, morphing into indecipherable shapes like different shades of black and navy spilled on a blank canvas. The splotches took a familiar form until you saw Julie’s magnificent face staring back at you. You couldn’t help but laugh as you contemplated whether or not you’d gone insane. No artist is ever fully sane, you thought before succumbing to the exhaustion and drifting gently into a peaceful slumber.
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As usual, you find yourself in the art club room after a particularly rough day of classes. If you weren’t daydreaming about Julie, you were dozing off in class and dreaming about her instead. To make matters worse, nearly all of your teachers called you out for not paying attention, adding another layer of embarrassment. You set up your equipment, hoping you’ll be able to forget about everything once you start painting.
Just before the paint touches the canvas, you hesitate, glancing at the door with bated breath. As stupid as it was, you strained your mind, half convinced Julie would walk through the door if you willed hard enough. You get your hopes up as you hear footsteps walk by, but ultimately, you’re met with silence and disappointment as the door stares back at you as if taunting you with its stillness. A mix of emotions goes through your head as you look back to your blank canvas.
She wasn’t coming back, and you felt like an idiot for getting so attached after one meeting. Rather than sitting around moping, you decide to cut yourself some slack—you would be surprised if someone didn’t fall in love after one look at her. With a sigh, you bring your brush back to the canvas, this time letting your heart do all the work instead of your head. Your arm moves with a mind of its own, tracing invisible lines and painting with pure intuition. This was the feeling you loved most while painting: Letting yourself get lost in the process without worrying about the final form. No planning, no second guessing, no expectations. In your heart, you knew that no matter how it looked, this would be your masterpiece.
Before you knew it, you were done. You straighten your spine, the pain in your lower back a sign of hard work. Looking back at your now-filled canvas, you see a pair of eyes you hadn’t noticed before. Then, you see lips, shining as if they were coated with lip gloss made out of stars. Then, it’s strands of brown hair, cascading down like a waterfall of milk chocolate.
A face. You made a face. More specifically, it’s Julie’s face. And it was beautiful.
“Is that me?”
A voice from behind makes you jump, inadvertently knocking over your mini table full of supplies. Blotches of paint spray all over the tile floor and onto your pants. You look up at the source of the voice only to see the same familiar face on your canvas: Julie Han.
“I-I… U-um, i-it’s not…” You struggle to explain yourself, not a single eligible word escapes your lips. Somehow, Julie had managed to come into the art room without you knowing. You didn’t know how long she was there, but it was obvious she had seen your painting. There was no use hiding it.
During the commotion, paint had sprayed all over Julie’s legs and her shoes. You quickly grab a pack of wet wipes from the cupboard and offer it to her, your eyes glued to the floor.
“S-sorry…” you utter under your breath. Your heart pounded in your chest as you waited for her to yell at you or call you a creep. The weight of the wet wipes left your hand, leaving you isolated with nothing to hold onto. You could do nothing but wait as your vision of the tiles on the floor began to blur together, creating an ugly blotch of black that glared at you with the sting of disapproval.
Like a ray of light in a dark tunnel, Julie’s voice shot through your worries. “That’s an amazing painting, Woohyuk.” You jerked your head up and saw her gazing at the canvas with deep admiration, too busy enjoying your work to care about the paint on her.
“R-really? Y-you don’t think it’s… creepy?” you ask. At this point, your heart stopped beating and you wondered if your mind was playing tricks on you before you faded into the afterlife.
“Creepy? Not at all, this is really cute. No one has ever painted me before. It’s really flattering.” Her eyes twinkled as she winked at you. Whether it was a trick of the light or just your imagination, it didn’t matter. “Sorry for startling you, I wanted to stop by after hip-hop club since I didn’t get the chance earlier.”
You took a deep breath, letting the familiar and calming scent of the art room fill your lungs. “I-it’s fine. Sorry about your shoes…” you murmur with an apologetic look on your face. Julie glances down at her once-white shoes, now covered in a misshapen rainbow of color.
“It’s cool, I kinda like them better this way,” Julie says. “Why don’t you sign them?”
“W-what?” you asked, completely bewildered by her request.
“Don’t artists sign their paintings? It’s just like that, except I get to wear them every day.” She flashed you a bright smile that you just couldn’t say no to (Not that you would ever say no to her in the first place). You sheepishly grabbed a paintbrush and a tube of black paint, nodding at her. Julie stamps her foot on the stool you were using, and your neck immediately snaps to the side in an attempt to avoid accidentally looking up her skirt, eliciting a hearty laugh from her that rang through your ears.
“I’m wearing shorts underneath, silly,” she says, chuckling at you. With a careful glance, you see that she is in fact wearing black shorts underneath her skirt. A wave of embarrassment turns your cheeks pink as you dip your brush into the black paint. The closer your hand got to her shoe, the more you began to tremble, making it impossible for you to produce an eligible signature.
“Am I making you nervous?” Julie teased with her sweet voice. You could only awkwardly chuckle in response, resorting to grabbing your wrist with your free hand and settling for a subpar signature. It certainly wasn’t your best work by any means, but the smile on her face as she looked down at her paint-splattered shoes made it all worth it.
“Thanks, Woohyuk! I gotta go, but I’ll see you tomorrow!” She gave you one final wink before disappearing behind the closed door, leaving you stunned for the second day in a row. To you, Julie Han is an enigma. Not only was she absolutely gorgeous, but she was also eccentric, optimistic, and kind. How could someone so perfect appear in your life all of a sudden? Was this compensation for the years of suffering you have endured until now? It was simple—you were completely and utterly infatuated with her. As you cleaned the rest of the paint mess on the ground, you couldn’t help but contemplate whether you should be delighted at the prospect of seeing her again or terrified of the uncertain future.
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The math teacher’s unexpected illness and the lax attitude of the substitute gave you the perfect opportunity to sketch out your next piece during class. Sure, the painting of Julie you created yesterday was amazing, but you needed more than a single painting to showcase at the school festival next week. Unfortunately, it was difficult trying to capture her solely through memory and the sub doing nothing to control the now rowdy classroom only added to the difficulty. Suddenly, your notebook was forcefully torn away from you.
“Yah, Woohyuk, what are you drawing?” Yechan, the jerk who had been bullying you all throughout high school, chuckled as he gawked at your sketch with his stupid friends. “Isn’t this that new girl, Julie? What the fuck bro, are you stalking her or something?”
You felt the heat creeping up your neck with anger and embarrassment as the rest of the class started to pay attention to what was happening. The substitute had earbuds in, completely oblivious to the scene unfolding before him. All you could do was clench your fist and pray for a miracle.
“Not gonna lie, she is kinda hot though,” Yechan says, snickering. “Y’know we’re in the hip-hop club together, right? I might consider asking her out at the next meeting.”
With each word he says, you feel your jaw clench and your fingernails dig into your palm. “G-give me my notebook back…” You try your best to sound confident, but all that comes out of your mouth is a frightened stutter. Yechan smacks you in the head with your notebook, causing it to fall on the floor next to you. The sketch of Julie was crumpled and torn just like your self-esteem.
“You wanna say that again, you little shit?” He growls into your ear, spewing his hot breath in your face. You gulped, wanting to shrink and disappear forever.
“He said to give him his notebook back, asshole.”
A hush fell over the room as a sweet yet stern voice was heard from the doorway. You glance over and see Julie, glaring angrily at Yechan as she stomps toward him.
“Julie? What are you doing he—” Yechan’s words are cut short with a smack to the face, courtesy of Julie’s hand. A chorus of “Ooohs” escaped everyone’s lips, even the substitute became invested in this scene of petty high school drama. You could only sit there and watch, both relieved and embarrassed by Julie’s intervention.
“As if I would ever date some asshole like you,” she spewed before turning to you with a concerned look. “Are you okay, Woohyuk?” The caramel tones of her voice made you feel at ease as if nothing bad could ever happen when you were with her. Like a guardian angel arriving at the most dire times, Julie always found a way to make everything better. At that moment, you knew you wanted to be with her, to spend more time with her and get to know everything about her, but a voice in the back of your mind was telling you that you were inadequate. You couldn’t even protect yourself from one bully, what good could you do as her boyfriend?
Julie grabbed your notebook off the ground and handed it to you. “I’m sorry about your drawing. It still looks really good though, you even got my eye shape and everything,” she compliments, giggling. A soft chuckle escapes your lips as a warm blush coats your cheeks.
“I-it’s just a sketch—”
“YOU BITCH!!” Yechan suddenly reels his arm back and you instinctively stand up in front of Julie, protecting her from the punch. The last thing you feel is a sharp shock to the jaw before your vision fades to black.
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As your eyes creep open, you are greeted by an abstract silhouette of colors. Reds, browns, and creams were lazily pushed together against a background of bland gray to resemble some sort of human form. Confusion hit you first, but as your vision began to clear, the colors and shapes became less fuzzy and more recognizable until you could make out a vivid picture of Julie looking down at you. Her face was close enough for you to see your reflection in her eyes and the smooth texture of her skin.
“Good morning, sleepyhead,” Julie chuckles. “You had me worried there for a second.”
“Where am I?” You ask her as you sit up. A shooting pain hits your jaw, reminding you of what happened before you blacked out, and a wave of embarrassment hits you.
“You’re in the nurse’s office. The sub and I dragged you here after he sent Yechan to the Principal. I heard he’s gonna get a month-long suspension,” she explained. You couldn’t help but feel slightly irked as this whole thing could have been avoided if the sub had done his job in the first place.
“A month isn’t long enough,” you commented, earning a small chuckle from Julie. Suddenly, she took your hand in hers, lazily caressing the back of your hand with her thumb. You felt your breath catch in your throat and you had to mentally remind yourself to breathe before you blacked out again.
“You were really brave back there,” she said, flashing you a smile of admiration. “Thank you.”
“I-I didn’t really do anything. You were the brave one,” you pointed out. Getting punched in the face wasn’t exactly an act of bravery in your book. Julie, ever the optimist, saw things differently.
“Well then, I guess we make a great team,” she jokes. The two of you share a laugh, alone in the nurse’s office of all places. You would gladly spend the rest of eternity in this small room if it meant getting to spend every second of it close to her like this. Unfortunately, all good things must come to an end as the nurse walks through the door.
“Oh good, you’re awake,” she says nonchalantly. “If you feel fine, you’re free to go back to class.” The urge to lie and tell her that you were still feeling a little dizzy just so you could spend a little more time with Julie was strong, but Julie had already started walking to the door.
“Sorry Woohyuk, I have a test next period that I really don’t want to make up. I’ll see you after school, I promise!” With a bright smile so big that it squeezes her eyes shut, she waves goodbye to you before disappearing into the hallway. You admired how she smiled so freely and so fully as if nothing bad could ever happen to her. It became a precious gesture that you wanted to protect by any means necessary.
But what could you do? You were just a socially awkward painter, and she was everything. All you were good for was becoming a human punching bag for others. It was obvious how this story would end - your one-sided feelings would stay hidden and Julie would go on to date some other guy that could give her everything she could ever want. It was painful, but it was the truth.
Or so you thought.
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Thankfully, the rest of the day went by without any further incidents, and you were once again walking the familiar route to the art club room. Suddenly, a voice from behind you echoes through the hallway.
“Choi Woohyuk!” You turn around to see Julie skipping towards you with a childlike giddiness. “Let’s walk together!”
‘S-sure,” you utter, trying to mask your enthusiasm. As the two of you walk side by side, Julie links arms with you, sending a shockwave through your body, which she notices and giggles at.
“I’m not making you uncomfortable am I?” She asks teasingly.
“N-not at all.” While you were happy with the contact, you weren’t sure what to make of it. Was this just a friendly gesture she did with all of her friends? Not wanting to get your hopes up, you decide to change the subject. “Soooo, you heading to the hip-hop club today?”
“Actually, I think I’m gonna quit the hip-hop club.”
Bewildered, you turn to her. “W-what, why?”
“I’d rather not be in the same club as that jerk Yechan,” she cringed. “Besides, I think it’s time that I try something new. Like painting.”
Her last words stopped you dead in your tracks. “W-what do you mean?”
Julie giggled cutely at your confused expression. “I wanna join the art club, and I want you to teach me how to paint.”
It felt too good to be true. On the outside, you were completely frozen, but on the inside, you were screaming and jumping for joy. “W-why?” you ask, attempting to stifle a grin.
“I don’t know, I just think it would be fun,” she answers simply. “I thought you would be happier since you’re basically obsessed with me.”
“I am not—” The warm blush that spread across your cheeks was answer enough; you were in fact obsessed with her. Julie grabs your hand and starts pulling you towards the art club room.
“What are you waiting for? Let’s go, Woohyuk!” Hand in hand, the two of you run through the hallways, your laughter echoing against the walls. You received some looks from students and teachers passing by, but you didn’t care. Instead of suppressing your smile like you usually do, you allowed yourself to smile as freely as the girl whose hand you were holding. The girl who showed up out of nowhere like a bolt from the blue. The girl who you were in love with.
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In the week leading up to the school festival, you and Julie spent practically every second together. You would meet up during the passing period just to talk for five minutes, and during class, you hid your phone underneath books just to send her a quick text. After school, you would give Julie painting lessons while working on your own pieces for the festival. To others, her work could be considered elementary or sloppy, but to you, they were masterpieces that deserved to be displayed at galleries for the whole world to see. Some days, Julie would be your muse and pose for you, giving you new ideas and teasing you if you stared at her for too long. On one particular day, Julie was uncharacteristically quiet as she was completely focused on painting a vase of flowers you set in front of her. You found the way her eyebrows furrowed to be particularly adorable.
On the weekend, you even went on a little museum “date” with her to help familiarize her with famous pieces and techniques. While you insisted that it was purely educational, Julie didn’t cease to poke fun at you when she caught you looking at her instead of the paintings. On the day of the school festival, the two of you had successfully made enough paintings for an exhibit. While you were extremely proud of the pieces you and Julie made, you couldn’t help but feel nervous as you waited for people to stop by the art club room.
Julie noticed you being quieter than usual and gave you a worried expression. “Are you okay, Woohyuk? You don’t look so hot.”
“I-I’m fine,” you reassured her, but she wasn’t convinced. She led you to a nearby chair for you to sit on.
“You can talk to me, y’know. I’m here for you,” she soothes. Her voice had a way of calming you down, even in the worst of times.
“I’m just… nervous, I guess. What if no one shows up? We worked so hard this whole time, but if no one shows up, it’ll be such a waste.” Your head falls into your hands as you let out a deep sigh. Julie runs her hand gently through your hair in an attempt to provide you comfort.
“It’s not a waste at all. We had a lot of fun, and you taught me a lot about painting,” she explains before pausing in contemplation for a moment. Suddenly, her cheeks became tinged with a light shade of pink as she turned to you. “L-look, I was gonna give this to you later, but I think you need it now. Close your eyes.”
You raise an eyebrow at her in bewilderment. “What?”
“Just close them, Woohyuk!” She exclaimed.
“O-okay…” You decide to do as you're told instead of arguing. A couple seconds of nothing passes until the unthinkable happens: a soft warmth grazes against the flesh of your cheek, gentle and fleeting. The feeling lasts for less than a second, but the sensation lingers on your skin like a tattoo. You open your eyes and turn to Julie, whose light pink cheeks evolved into the red of a ripe tomato.
“J-Julie, did you just—”
Your words are interrupted as a couple walks through the doors.
“Hello, are you guys open?”
Julie jumps up from her seat, almost too eager to leave your side. “Yes, hello! Welcome to the art club, please have a look around!”
Slowly but steadily, the room starts to fill with more and more people, a larger crowd than you anticipated. For the next few hours, you and Julie would go around to each person, answering their questions and explaining your works of art. It was nerve-wracking given your track record with social interactions, but Julie’s presence alone was enough to keep you afloat. While you were happy so many people were there to check out your paintings, you weren’t able to ask Julie about what happened earlier.
Once the crowd died down a little bit, you went up to Julie to talk to her, but a girl with long black hair beat you to her.
“Julie!” She exclaimed as she embraced her. The two girls excitedly jumped up and down, squealing with excitement.
“Oh my god, I thought you weren’t coming until tomorrow!” Julie beamed.
“I wasn’t about to miss my best friend’s first ever art exhibition! I can’t believe you made all of these, they’re so good!”
“Actually, I didn’t make all of them.” Julie beckons you over, flashing a wide smile at you. “Woohyuk, this is Natty, my best friend from my old school. Natty, this is Woohyuk, my art teacher and my… friend.” You noticed a small hesitation before she said “friend”, but the conversation moved on before you could dwell on it for too long.
“Oh, Woohyuk? So this is the boy you’ve been talking about, Julie. Not bad,” Natty says, winking at Julie. In response, Julie slaps her friend on the shoulder, eliciting heavy laughter from her. You could only stand there awkwardly, confused and out of the loop.
“A-anyways,” Julie interjected, blushing profusely, “I’m gonna give Natty a tour of the school, are you okay being here by yourself?”
“Actually, I wanted to talk to you about something first,” you utter nervously.
Julie looks at you with an apologetic expression. “I’m sorry, is it okay if we talk later? I promise I’ll be back within an hour.”
The urge to ask her about what happened earlier was strong, but it was impossible to say no to her, especially when she gave you that look. “O-okay, I’ll see you in an hour then. Go have fun,” you reassure her, trying to hide your disappointment. Julie gives you one last look before exiting the room with Natty, leaving you alone with the few remaining visitors left.
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Moonlight casts abstract shadows against the floor of the art club room. Everyone else had gone to watch the performances from the various music-related clubs, yet here you were, sitting on the floor of the art club room, waiting for the girl of your dreams to walk through the door. You had been waiting exactly two hours, 43 minutes, and 12 seconds for her to come back (you started counting ever since she stepped out of the doorway). You weren’t mad that she took longer than she said she would, nor were you sad that she isn’t there yet. You were just… waiting.
The silence gave your thoughts the space to roam freely in your mind, yet you were only focused on one thing. It hadn’t left your mind ever since people started entering your art exhibition. You so desperately wanted to know what it meant. More specifically, you wanted to know what it meant for the future. Was it a chance at a new beginning? Or was it just a mistake? Negativity and doubt began to seep through your brain like ink spilled on a blank sheet of paper. Were you meant to live the rest of your life in this unrequited love?
“Woohyuk!” Julie bursts through the door and runs to you, kneeling beside you. “I am so so sorry, Natty started talking to these boys from the rock club, and I couldn’t just leave her alone y’know, and then the concert started and I was gonna leave but Natty forced me to stay, and I’m so sorry Woohyuk, and—”
Without hesitation, you gently grabbed the back of Julie’s head and pulled her closer, planting your lips against hers. The rest of the world fades into oblivion, leaving the two of you suspended in this intimate moment. If Heaven was real, it existed in the way her soft lips felt against yours, perfectly gentle like a brush gliding effortlessly against the canvas. Every fiber of your being was focused on this silent exchange of love. As you finally pull away, breathless and invigorated, Julie stares back at you with stars in her eyes.
“Julie,” you breathe, “I like you. I’ve liked you ever since I laid eyes on you. I like the way nothing ever seems to bother you. I like the way you’re so eager to learn and try new things. I like the way your eyebrows furrow when you’re focusing on a painting. I like the way you smile so freely. I know I’m not that strong or brave, but I want to be the one to protect that smile. You are so precious to me, and you have made my life so much better just by existing. I want to be with you and go on more museum dates and create more art with you. I really, really like you, Julie.”
An eternity passed as you waited for a response from her. The darkness made it hard to clearly decipher the expression on her face, but you could still see the universe reflected in her irises. Rather than embarrassment or anxiety, you were filled with determination. You weren’t going to waste your time anymore - if there was ever a time to confess, it was now.
Julie’s answer came in the form of a warm embrace, her arms tightly wrapped around your neck. “What took you so long?” She cried, her voice muffled by your neck.
The confidence you felt just seconds before was quickly replaced with worry. “J-Julie, are you crying?!”
She pulls away from you, revealing her teary eyes and a cute frown. “I was waiting for so long for you to confess, I thought maybe you didn’t like me anymore,” she pouted. You gently cup her face in your hands, wiping away her tears with your thumbs.
“I was worried you didn’t like me at all.” Laughter filled the room as both of your worries quickly melted away. You give Julie one little peck on the lips to seal the deal, reiterating your feelings towards her. She sinks into your arms, resting her head on your chest, your heartbeats syncing into a singular rhythm. The moonlight casts its silver glow down on Julie’s shoes, painted and signed by you.
(Author's Note: All re-uploaded chapters of UD are edited! Hopefully it's a better reading experience this time around :>)
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"Yuno Lin! Detention! NOW!"
The sight of Principal Geier's screaming face is nothing new to me. The bright shade of red on his furious expression combined with his shiny bald head made him look like a ripe tomato. I'd chuckle at the thought if my chest didn't hurt every time I so much as breathe.
A crowd of students and teachers had huddled around Bryce Merten's unconscious body. The football player's face was all bloodied and bruised, but he was breathing, for better or for worse. I grab my bag I had tossed on the ground and trudge my way back into the main building of the school.
It's the end of the school day, some students are still hovering around their lockers, getting their stuff or talking to their friends. My footsteps echo throughout the hallway, alerting others of my presence. The look of fear and confusion as they notice my face full of cuts and bruises is nothing new. I pay them no mind as I walk the familiar route to the detention room.
I push open the door, its creak announcing my entrance. Instead of the usual stern expression of Ms. Rusnak's wrinkly face, I find myself face to face with Minji Kim, the golden girl of Evergreen High School—student council president, rank #1 in the entire school, the poster child of perfection. Seeing her from up close like this really puts into perspective just how seriously she takes herself. Uniform pressed and polished, posture straight as an arrow, not a single hair out of place. She's... pretty, in a way that makes sense for someone like her. But what is she doing in detention of all places?
"Oh my god, are you okay?" Her voice is laced with an unexpected sincerity that catches me off guard. I shrug and walk past her, fully expecting words of judgement or disdain as I take a seat in the front row of desks. Minji sits across from me at the teacher's desk, a mile high stack of paperwork cluttering its surface, and traces my wounds with her eyes. Figures.
"What happened to you?" she asks.
I hesitate, not used to hearing genuine concern. Most would avert their gaze, thinking one wrong look at me would set me off. If it were Ms. Rusnak in that chair, I would no doubt be getting an earful about how I should "stop getting into so much trouble" and "you're a senior, you should be thinking about your future". With the way life has panned out up to this point, the only future I see is an early grave.
Reluctantly, I recount the events that led to my fight with Bryce—how he had been tormenting a freshman for weeks, how everyone refused to do something about it, and how I stepped in and put that motherfucker face first into the concrete where he belongs.
Minji listens intently, her expression shifting from stern to contemplative. When I finish, she sighs, her shoulders slumping.
"I understand that you wanted to help, but you shouldn't resort to violence," she says, gentle yet firm. "Why didn't you alert a teacher about what was going on?"
I scoff, bitterness seeping into my tone. "You think they would have done anything? They knew about it the entire time, but that fucker is on the football team, so they turned a blind eye to the whole thing." I let out a deep breath, glaring at her. "He needed a good punch to the jaw. I just happened to be the one doing it."
Minji frowns, her eyes searching in mine. "I know it's frustrating, but taking matters into your own hands isn't the solution. You could get expelled for this, and then what? You won't be able to help anyone."
I avoid meeting her eyes, my gaze fixed on the scuffed surface of the desk. "I had to do it," I muttered. "No one else would."
She sighed, realizing the impasse between us. "Just... be more careful next time. I'm sure your friends wouldn't want to see you hurt," she remarks, turning back to her pile of paperwork.
Her words echo in my head as I continue to stare at the desk. She's right. Of course she's right. If the teachers actually did their job and reprimanded him the first time, then I would have never had to fight. Hell, I never enjoyed fighting in the first place. But I had to do it. Someone had to knock some sense into these sons of bitches and that responsibility was bestowed upon me for whatever reason. And... Did she say "friends"? What friends? Everyone was too afraid to even look at me. Surely she knew that... right?
Not like it matters. I guess.
The minutes tick along, our conversation lingering in the air. Eventually, the bell rings, and I am officially free to leave detention. Without a word, I grab my bag and start to leave, but something stops me. I glance out the window and notice the darkness settling over the school grounds. It would be easy for me to leave and move on with my life, but a voice back of my head urges me to do the right thing. Despite my better judgment, I turn back around.
"I'll walk you home," I said, the words leaving my mouth before I have the time to process them.
Minji's gaze flicks up at me, eyes wide with surprise. "O-oh, you don't have t—"
"It's dark outside," I interrupt, my tone leaving no room for argument. "It'll be too dangerous if you walk home alone."
Minji offers a small smile of appreciation. "Thank you for the offer, but I can manage. I don't live that far anyways."
"Let me walk you home then," I insist, my voice surprisingly unwavering. "If you don't live far, then I'll be out of your hair in no time. Just let me make sure you get home okay."
She studies me for a moment, uncertainty flickering on her face. "Fine," she relents with a small nod. "But just this once."
I merely grunt in response as I hold the door open for her. We walk through the dimly lit hallways and exit the main building into the cold, gray night. A heavy silence hangs between us as we leave the campus, our path marked by a few dingy street lights that cast long shadows on the pavement.
We walk side by side, the echoes of our footsteps reverberating through the empty streets. Minji seems lost in her thoughts, her gaze fixed on the path ahead. I don't blame her—I didn't exactly imagine tonight going like this. I maintain a distance from her, not wanting to make her uncomfortable.
As we near her house, the first droplets of rain patter onto the pavement, warning us of the impending downpour.
Minji glances up and snaps out of her trance, her expression shifting from contemplation to annoyance. "That's just great," she sighs. "We're gonna get soaked." We exchange a brief glance and quicken our pace, hoping to reach her house before the rain hits us.
Our slight jog turns into a sprint as the rain intensifies. Pretty soon, it's hard to discern sweat from rain as our sneakers slap against the ever growing amount of puddles. In the distance, the glow of Minji's porch lights beckon to us, like a lighthouse guiding lost ships through stormy weather. As we reach the shelter of her porch, the rain gets heavier and heavier, transforming the world around us into a blurry, mesmerizing dance of droplets.
I take a moment to catch my breath, not bothering to wipe the rain off my forehead as I look back into the unyielding downpour. But before I can make a move, I feel a gentle tug on my sleeve, stopping me in my tracks.
"W-wait," she utters, barely audible over the rain hitting her roof. "Stay here."
My eyes grow wide with confusion. "What?"
Her cheeks turn a bright shade of pink as she shakes her head. "I-I mean until the rain lets up."
"I'll be fine. It's just a little rain," I say. As if on cue, the sound of thunder booms in the distance.
Before I could protest anymore, Minji opens her front door and gestures for me to come inside. "You'll catch a cold if you go out like this. And it's the least I can do to repay you for walking me home."
I glance back at the unrelenting rain one last time, weighing the options in my head, and sigh. "Okay. I'll leave once the rain lets up."
Minji grins, leading the way inside. The warmth of her home envelops us, a welcome contrast to the cold outside, but all I can do is stand awkwardly in the foyer as the rain becomes mere background noise.
"Wait here, let me get you something dry to wear," Minji says as she kicks off her shoes and disappears up the stairs. Curiously, I peer into her living room while I wait, being careful not to drip any water onto the carpet. A comfy-looking brown coach faces a large flat-screen TV, one that I've only seen in the electronics aisle at Walmart. Various pictures line the shelves and the walls, including family photos, a wedding photo of what could be her parents, and a graduation photo of an older boy I haven't seen before.
The sound of Minji's footsteps breaks me out of my thoughts. She appears in front of me with a blue sweater and black sweatpants neatly folded in her hands. "Here, these my older brother's. He's away for college right now, so I'm sure he won't mind if you borrow them," she says, a small smile on her face.
I take them from her, subconsciously scanning her outfit: a simple graphic T-shirt and black cotton shorts, a far cry from the school uniform she usually wears. A sudden realization hits me—by some odd twist of fate, I find myself standing inside Minji Kim's house. Just like that, I remember who I'm talking to, and my guard goes right back up.
"T-thanks," I mutter, unsure of what else to say.
"No problem, uhh..." Minji's voice falters as she suddenly brings her hands up to her face, light pink hues peeking through the cracks in her fingers. "Oh my god... I never asked for your name..."
I bite back a smirk at her reaction. Never expected someone like her to miss that. "Yuno Lin."
She uncovers her face, embarrassment shown through a sheepish smile. "Right, Yuno. I'm so sorry, it's been a long day." She walks past me into the living room, avoiding my gaze. "There's a bathroom right around the corner that you can change in. I'll make us some tea in the meantime," she says with an apologetic look. I simply nod and kick off my shoes before following her deeper into her house.
While she heads to the kitchen, presumable to make the tea, I head into the bathroom and peel off my drenched uniform shirt. Fist-sized blobs of bluish-purples and red adorn my chests like shitty tattoos, alongside another one on my arm and a couple of cuts on my face. All things considered, this isn't the worst thing that's happened to me.
I quickly remove the rest of my wet clothes and change into the ones Minji gave me, leaving my soaked school uniform in a messy pile on the bathroom counter. The warm fabric felt foreign against my skin, but not entirely uncomfortable. As I step out of the bathroom, the comforting scent of black tea hit my nose, leading me to the kitchen where Minji is steeping two cups of the stuff.
She notices my presence and offers me a smile. "The tea is almost ready." I watch as she reaches into a drawer and pulls out a first aid kit. "Let me help you with the cuts."
I shake my head. "I'm fine."
Minji frowns and gently pushes me back into a chair. Before I can protest, she's already cleaning the cuts on my face with antiseptic, her touch surprisingly gentle. I feel an odd sensation in my chest as I steal a glance at her, her face almost uncomfortably close to mine as she focuses on her task.
"There," she says, finishing up with a small bandage on my cheek. "You're good to go."
I grunt in response, still feeling a little flustered. Minji hands me a cup of warm tea, our fingers brushing briefly. I take a sip, the warmth of the liquid heating me up from the inside.
"Thanks," I mutter, avoiding her gaze as I stare down at the contents of the mug.
Minji, oblivious to the hint of awkwardness that I feel, plops onto the kitchen counter across from me. "No problem. It's the least I can do."
I bring the mug to my lips, unsure of how to navigate this foreign environment. I rack my brain in search of something to fill the growing silence, but my mind stays blank. What the hell am I supposed to talk about with the student council president anyways?
"Soo..." she starts, her eyes peering into her cup. "What do you usually do when you're not, y'know... getting into fights?"
I glance at her, both relieved and surprised by the question. "Um... I don't know. Nap, I guess."
Minji giggles softly, trying to lighten the mood. "Really? That's quite... unique." She flashes a bright smile at me.
I shrug, feeling a little embarrassed by her reaction. "What about you?"
Minji chuckles, a smile lingering on her face. "It's a bit embarrassing, but when I'm not studying or dealing with student council stuff, I like to sing."
"Really?" I tilt my head with interest. "Huh. I never would've guessed that."
"Yeah, I haven't really told anyone this aside from a few close friends. Sometimes I would tell my parents that I'm studying at the library, but in reality, I'm at the karaoke place with them." She giggles to herself before her expression suddenly darkens and her gaze drops to the floor. Minji lets out a sigh before saying, "My parents would never approve. They want me to go to a good college and probably become a doctor or something."
The room falls into a thoughtful silence, the thunder and rain filling in the gaps. I don't know why she would entrust that kind of vulnerability to me of all people, but I can't help but feel sympathetic. We all have our demons, even those you would never think twice about.
"I-I'm sorry," I utter, feeling regretful that I can't offer more than that.
Minji meets my gaze, and for a brief moment, I can see a deep sadness within them. On the rare occasion I see her in the hallways, they're usually bright and cheerful. This was something else entirely. "It's fine. Just a silly hobby anyways," she sighs, looking back down at her mug.
She downs the rest of her tea and places it in the sink before glancing up at the clock on the wall, the arms reading 9:00. "It's getting late, but..." Her gaze drops to the window above the sink, a shaky breath escaping her lips. "The rain isn't letting up."
I stand up from my chair, mentally preparing myself for the treacherous walk home. "It's okay Minji, I ca-"
"You can spend the night here."
My eyes grow wide in shock, staring at the back of her head as she continues to face the window. "H-huh?"
A million thoughts run through my mind as her unexpected offer hangs through the air. Spending the night? At Minji's place? It feels like I woke up in an alternate reality and didn't notice until now.
Minji slowly turns to look at me, her cheeks tinged with a faint blush as she met my bewildered gaze with a sheepish smile. "Yeah... Look, it's pouring outside and you could get sick. My parents are both gone for a business trip, so they won't be back until this weekend."
I hesitate, completely baffled at the situation I'm faced with. No words come out, other than a blabbering mess of, "I-I, uh... W-what?"
"You can crash on the couch. I'll get you some blankets." Minji zooms past me before I can protest, her cheeks growing redder by the second.
I suddenly find myself alone in Minji's kitchen. Me. In Minji's house. Alone. With Minji. An eternity passes by where I stand there like a clueless statue. This odd feeling lingers in my stomach, like something could happen if I stay here a second longer.
"Yuno?"
My head snaps towards the voice. Minji's head pokes out behind the wall leading to the living room. "Are you okay?"
I scratch my head, feeling a bit awkward. "Y-yeah, I'm good." I come to my senses and head towards the living room, where Minji placed a couple of pillows and two neatly folded blankets on the couch.
"Make yourself comfortable. Oh, I went ahead and put your uniform in the wash. It should be all nice and dry in the morning." She says, flashing me a reassuring smile. I notice a twinge of anxiety deep within her eyes.
"T-thanks," I reply awkwardly.
"If you need me, I'll be upstairs in my room. Just knock." Minji begins to walk away but stops at the foot of the stairs. "Um... Good night, Yuno." She gives me a small smile before disappearing up the stairs.
I sink into the couch and stare at the ceiling, a long sigh blowing past my lips. Today's events replay in my head—A mundane school day, punctuated by me kicking Bryce Merten's ass. Meeting Minji in the detention room. The rain. And now I'm in Minji Kim's house, drinking Minji Kim's tea, and sleeping on Minji Kim's couch. What the fuck.
The exhaustion of everything catches up to me as the couch cushions start to swallow me whole, enveloping my body in a plush prison. My eyelids grow heavier and heavier until my vision eventually goes black.
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Minji's POV
"Hanni!! What should I do?!" I whisper-scream into the phone.
"Girl, you're gonna have to explain all that again, I could barely understand you," I hear my friend reply in a snarky tone.
I take a deep breath, trying to calm my nerves before I relay the events again. "Okay, so I was just doing paperwork in the detention room because Ms. Rusnak was out and all of a sudden this guy named Yuno walks in with his face all bloody because he got into a fight somehow, and then I was gonna leave after detention ended, but he offered to walk me home, which was nice I guess, but then it started raining so I invited him to wait inside until the rain calmed down because I didn't want him to get sick, but for some reason, the rain NEVER calmed down, so now he's sleeping on my couch." I stop to catch my breath at the end of my rambling, waiting for Hanni's response.
"Wait, Yuno? As in Yuno Lin? The guy who knocked out Bryce Mertens?" she asks.
"Y-yeah... I think so," I hesitantly admit.
"I mean, I didn't know you were into bad boys, but whatever floats your boat," Hanni teases.
I groan in annoyance. "Hanni now is not the time for jokes! My parents will kill me if they find out I have a boy staying over!!"
I hear Hanni chuckle at her own joke. "Relax, Minj. Your parents won't be back for three more days, you'll be fine."
I collapse face first into my bed, feeling defeated. "I guess so..." I let out a long sigh, turning onto my back and staring at the ceiling.
"Sooo, what's he like?" Hanni asks. "I always see him alone all the time, so I assumed he was just some creepy weirdo or something."
I pause, contemplating my answer. "He's... different from what I thought he would be. He's not a creepy weirdo at all. He's quiet and a little awkward, but he means well and seems nice enough."
Hanni's curiosity piques. "Oooh, mysterious bad boy with a soft heart sleeping with the student council president. Sounds like a plot to a K-drama."
I quickly sit up, my cheeks burning red with embarrassment. "Hanni!! It's not like that at all!!"
Hanni's laughter fills up my entire room, I swear Yuno can hear it from downstairs. I quickly hang up and collapse back onto my bed, too tired to deal with her shenanigans for tonight. Maybe if I shut my eyes tight enough, this entire day will turn out to be just some weird dream.
