#fromis 9 fluff

Your mother had cried, though you still weren’t sure if it was joy or guilt. Your father, tight-lipped and straight-backed in his suit, shook hands with Jiheon’s manager like this was some brokered truce between warring companies. It was quiet, as if everyone was walking on eggshells because someone might snap.

The bride didn’t wear white. She wore black slacks, a blazer, and a look on her face that could’ve made the sun rethink shining that day. Jiheon didn’t even look at you as she signed the marriage registration. No, her gaze focused just over your shoulder, as if she was mentally somewhere far, far away.

Honestly, you wouldn’t have minded being there with her, if only to escape the suffocating weight of what had just happened.

An arranged marriage. In this day and age.

You weren’t royalty, or chaebol heirs, or reality show contestants. You were just… the unlucky child of a powerful real estate family, and Jiheon, the idol of a company that was barely having its first step in entertainment. Business ties. Contractual benefits. Media coverage. Whatever the real reason was, it clearly wasn’t love. Hell, it wasn’t even like.

It reminded you of the first (and the only) meeting before the arrangement was final. At a company dinner, where she sat three seats away and didn’t even acknowledge your existence beyond a polite nod when her manager introduced you.

Her fans would’ve called her elegant. Reserved. Maybe even cool.

You, on the other hand, saw the exact moment she looked at you and realized she was going to be tethered to you legally for the foreseeable future. Her eye smile barely twitched. But her eyes — those adorable yet sharp, unreadable eyes — darkened like the grey storm clouds right before thunder hits.

After that dinner, your parents tried to convince you. They brought up her reputation: how she was smart, how she always carried herself well, and how this alliance would benefit both sides. You tried to push back. She was a member of fromis_9, for god’s sake. She was active, popular. You were some half-baked heir who hadn’t even figured out what you wanted to do with your life yet. What would she gain from marrying you, outside of a bullet point on a corporate merger document?

“Jiheon agreed,” they said.

You still winced how that sentence stung more than it should have. Not “she wanted to.” Not “she likes you.” Just “she agreed.”

Like she was tolerating this. Like she was tolerating you.

Anyway, back in the present, she walks ahead of you as you step out of the city registry office. Her pace is fast and exact, her heels clicking sharply against the pavement, not once glancing back to check if you were keeping up. The car is waiting at the curb. You slide into the backseat beside her, trying not to let the awkwardness crush your lungs. Her gaze is glued to her phone, thumb scrolling, probably messages from her group chat. Probably better people to be around than you.

“Should I, um… move my stuff into the guest room when we get back?” you ask, voice embarrassingly unsure.

Jiheon exhales. “Do what you want.”

You nod. Stare out the window. Try not to drown in the silence.

-

The apartment is new. Way too new.

White walls, untouched counters, and everything smelling like plastic wrap and a showroom catalogue. You’d picked the unit together during one of those “family obligation” weekends, though she didn’t say more than three full sentences the whole time. Still, she gave a small nod when you suggested this one, since it's slightly bigger than necessary, with two bedrooms and a view of the Han River.

You don’t know why she agreed. Maybe because it lets her avoid being near you more than necessary.

As you step inside, she kicks off her heels and heads straight to the larger bedroom without a word. The door shuts behind her before you can say anything. You could only sigh and roll your suitcase into the guest room. Damn, it still smells like fresh paint.

You flop onto the bed and stare at the ceiling, trying to figure out where to begin when your partner (well, wife-on-paper) is the kind of person who barely tolerates being in the same airspace.

You thought marriage wasn’t supposed to feel like a contract between strangers. But maybe that’s what you two are. Strangers, now wearing rings you didn’t pick, in a home that doesn’t feel like yours. You think about the way she avoided your eyes the entire time you said your vows. It feels like facing a chilling death.

So you made yourself a quiet promise, lying on the unfamiliar mattress with the ceiling fan humming above you. A vow you didn’t say out loud: If this marriage was inevitable, then at the very least, you weren’t going to make her feel like she was trapped.

But for now?

You settle in the guest bed, alone. And the house remains just as silent as the ceremony.

-

You started small.

Fresh towels on the rack before her shower. Her side of the fridge stocked with her favourite drinks—those weird fizzy kombuchas you noticed she drinks all the time. Slippers left by the front door facing outwards, so she wouldn’t have to turn them around when she came home exhausted.

She noticed. Of course she did. You could tell by the way her eyes lingered for half a second longer on the table when you left out her coffee just the way she liked it (your history was just repeats of her live). Black, no sugar, no comments.

But that didn’t mean she liked it.

One morning, you were plating up toast and eggs (nothing fancy, but warm and ready) when you felt her eyes on your back.

“You don’t have to do all this,” Her voice sounds more exhausted than angry.

You turned around, spatula in hand. She stood a few feet away, arms crossed over her hoodie, hair still damp from the shower.

“It’s just breakfast,” you offered with a small shrug. “You haven’t eaten anything since yesterday’s schedule.”

“And how would you know that?”

“Um…You left your lunch in the fridge.”

She scoffed, brushing a hand through her hair. “I didn’t ask you to keep tabs on me.”

“I’m not,” you said, gently. “I just… noticed.”

“Then stop noticing.”

That one hurts…quite a lot. You looked down, pressing your thumb into the edge of the counter just to ground yourself.

“I’m not…I'm not trying to pity you, Jiheon,” you said, carefully, like every word might be landmines. “This is your home too. I’m just… trying to make sure you feel that.”

She stared at you for a beat too long, and you weren’t sure if she was about to throw her mug at you or leave again. “I don’t need your comfort,” she said finally. “Or your kindness. Especially not if it’s because you feel sorry for me.”

“I don’t feel sorry for you,” you replied, softly. “But I do feel responsible for making sure you don’t feel alone here.”

“You don’t get it.”

“Of course I don't. Help me understand.”

Her shoulders dropped just slightly, like she wanted to argue, wanted to fight, but was just too tired. She turned around instead, muttering under her breath as she walked away.

“I never asked for any of this…”

Still, you didn’t stop, and she didn't even try to hide her disdain.

You heard it in the frustrated sigh she let out when she opened the fridge and saw the labelled containers: ‘Dinner (spicy, for Jiheon)’.You caught her rolling her eyes when you left two umbrellas by the door during the rainy week. Once, during a particularly long day, you’d seen her struggling to adjust the strap of her bag before heading out.  You reached forward, gently fixing it for her without a word.

She jerked away like your touch burned. “Don’t.”

You froze mid-reach. “Sorry,” you murmured, taking a step back. “Just… trying to help.”

“You’re not my manager.”

“No. I’m not,” you said quietly. “I’m just your… husband.”

The word tasted bitter when you said it. Like it didn’t belong in your mouth. She didn’t respond. Just left. The door clicked shut behind her.

-

The first real crack happens over laundry. Literally.

You’re carrying her load out of the washer, because she’s forgotten it for over six hours and you figured it’d start smelling otherwise. As you pull out one of her dark stage outfits, a delicate black top with pearl detailing catches on the corner of the machine.

Oh shit.

Then you hear her door open. Oh fucking no.

“What are you doing?” she asks, sharply.

You turn slowly, the top in your hand, pearl hanging by a thread like a guillotine about to drop. “I—was just moving your stuff to the dryer, I didn’t mean to— It got caught—”

“Don’t touch my things!” she snaps, stepping forward and yanking it from your hand.

You flinch, but she’s already glaring down at the snagged fabric like it personally betrayed her. Her fingers tremble, and she’s clearly upset. You exhaled before choosing your words carefully.

“I’ll pay - I'll pay for the repairs.”

“You think money fixes everything?”

"N-" You want to say no, but that’s exactly how this marriage started, isn’t it?

She doesn’t wait for an answer. She turns and disappears back into her room, laundry remains there. A mess. So that night, you stayed up late watching YouTube tutorials on how to sew, practicing on your old T-shirt like it’s your final exam. Even on the break of dawn, you rush to the craft store the next day and buy a matching pearl kit.

And when you finally fix it (it's shit. It's clunky) you leave it folded outside her door with a note: “Didn’t mean to touch your stuff. I just didn’t want it to go bad. Sorry for the pearl. I tried. (Also, the washer’s a bitch.)”

She doesn’t say anything. But one day, you find your favourite hoodie, the one you thought went missing, folded neatly on your bed.

-

One night, you came home late after pulling an all-nighter at work.

Your muscles ached, your brain felt like it had been replaced with mashed potatoes, and all you could think about was diving face-first into the couch. You barely even registered the lights were still on in the living room until your hand brushed something soft and warm.

A blanket. Neatly folded at the corner of the couch. Wait, that is yours, but you hadn’t left it there.

Blinking, you sat up. On the coffee table sat a plate of food, consisting of kimchi stew and rice, still faintly steaming. A post-it note stuck on the side of the plate read: “Don’t let it get cold. — J”

Oh. Huh.

It was the first time Jiheon had referred to you by anything other than passive-aggressive silence or the occasional "you." And somehow, the ‘J’ felt more personal than if she had written her full name. You stood there dumbly for a moment, holding the note between your fingers, your stomach growling in agreement with your disbelief.

You’d been married for over three months now. The start was a disaster. She was an idol. You were nobody.

Okay, not a nobody, but to Jiheon, whose schedule was booked months in advance with music shows, practices, radio appearances, you might as well have been a money bag couch cushion with a pulse, a necessary condition of this ridiculous contract between your families. You weren't even a fan of fromis_9 when the proposal came through. In fact, you barely listened to idol music. So you weren’t dazzled by the glamour or the idea of being married to "the Jiheon of fromis_9." If anything, that made things worse.

She thought you were pretending. Faking indifference to gain favour. But to be honest, you were just... trying to exist.

And slowly, she must've started to see that as you found her in the kitchen the following morning, hair tied up messily with strands escaping around her face. She moved quietly, careful not to disturb the stillness, grabbing a smoothie from the fridge. The sunlight filtered softly through the window, casting gentle shadows across her face, softening her usual stern features. She didn’t look up when you entered, but her voice startled you.

“I added tofu. You said you liked it.”

You smiled, warmth spreading through your chest like a slow sunrise light. “Thanks. It was really good.”

She shrugged, already turning away. “Don’t expect it every time.”

-

Days turned into weeks, and the ice around Jiheon began to chip away. She stopped sighing audibly when you were around. She ceased glaring at you when you accidentally left a dish in the sink overnight. And sometimes, when she thought you weren’t looking, she would watch you with a much lighter gaze like a slow dawn creeping over a mountain peak.

One evening, she came home from dance practice limping slightly, the usual confident grace replaced by quiet pain. And without prompting, you rush to her.

“Are you okay?”

“Yeah,” she said too quickly as Jiheon brushed past you. You followed her anyway, watched her sit on the edge of the bed and grimace as she untied her sneakers.

“Is it your ankle?” “I said I’m fine.”

You didn’t respond. Just quietly knelt down, reaching for her foot.

“Don’t—” “I’ll be gentle. Please?”

She didn’t stop you.

Your touch was tentative at first, because you don't want to anger nor hurt her. Your fingers tracing the warm, swollen skin beneath her sock, and you could feel her tension slowly melting away, her breathing evening out.

"That must've been painful." "Thanks, Sherlock…"

“I’ll get ice.”

She didn’t say anything as you left the room, or when you came back with a towel-wrapped pack. But when you gently rested it on her ankle, she let out a small sigh.

You looked up, and she was watching you.

And for the first time since your wedding day, Jiheon looked at you like you were real. As if you weren’t just a stranger forced into her life, or maybe she didn’t mind the thought of you being in it.

“Thank you.” "You're…very welcome. I'll be gentle, ok?"

She nodded.

-

The rain came down steady one night, light tapping against the metal railing of the balcony. You sat beside Jiheon (couldn't sleep, the neighbour got a bit too loud), each of you holding a mug, steam curling upwards and vanishing into the cold air. She looked past the apartments across the street, beyond the rows of windows lit in soft yellows and whites. Her legs were drawn up loosely to her chest, chin resting on her knee, hoodie sleeves covering her hands.

Neither of you had said anything in the past ten minutes. And honestly, you were okay with that.

“I hated this, you know.”

You turned slightly. “The rain?”

“No,” she said, eyes still forward. “This whole arrangement. The marriage. And….you. I guess.”

It didn’t sting. Not really. You’d figured that out ages ago with the way she avoided you, the way she barely let you exist in her orbit unless it was necessary. But hearing it out loud… that still kind of painful.

But you just let her keep going.

“I felt like I was being forced to open a door I didn’t want to walk through. I didn’t know you. Didn’t want to know you. And yet I had to wake up with someone else breathing in my space.”

She paused, then let out a short breath, more like she was sorting through the rest of her thoughts before deciding which ones were worth saying out loud.

“But you weren’t… what I expected,” she said finally. “You didn’t push. You didn’t hover. You just… stayed.”

You watched her fingers tighten slightly around the mug.

“I kept waiting for you to be selfish about it. To ask for something in return. But you never did.”

You blinked. “You make me sound a lot more noble than I actually am.”

“Don’t get cocky. You still microwave the fucking fish like a war criminal.”“Okay, rude. I was in a hurry that one time.”

She finally turned to look at you. “I can't promise you anything, I’m still…figuring things out. Still figuring this out. Still figuring you out.”

“I’m not asking for anything, either.”

Her gaze lingered on you a second longer before she looked down at her tea. “…I don’t hate it anymore, coming home and seeing you here.”

The rain suddenly felt like background noise, the pitter patter matching the heartbeat inside you.

“I'm glad you don't.” you said.

She nudged her mug against yours lightly. Then, almost like it was nothing, she added, “Also, you can stop pretending you don’t know I’ve been eating the dinners you leave in the fridge.”

“Ah, so it was you. I thought we had a polite ghost. It even washes the dishes as well.”

She looked at you again, a small twitch at the corner of her mouth.

“Gosh, you’re such an idiot,” she murmured.

“But a tolerable one?”

She just nudged your knee with hers. It was subtle, barely there, but she did that, then went back to sipping her tea.

"…maybe."

-----------------------------------------------------------------------

The day has arrived.

Honestly, you felt like everything was a blur, up until this moment.

“I now pronounce you as husband and wife.”

The words wash over you like a rushing wave, and your mind has no other thoughts than the one standing in front of you. Your eyes lock with one another, upon your wife. Your wife. The glare in her brown pupils shimmers brightly under the faint sunlight. Looking further down reminds you of the ungodly amount of time you both took to pick the perfect dress, and even when she had finally found the one, she still worked endlessly with the tailor to make it even more glam for her own sake. 

But it all blooms beautifully to this moment. All those hard weeks of planning and spending precious time was worth this day full of joy and love.

With no hesitation, you kiss her. The crowd erupts in cheers and claps for the both of you, and you can hear the slow sob of happiness from your mother, mixing in with the laughter of Jiheon’s father. It’s loud, but all you can feel was the taste of her lips, as familiar as it could be, that same strawberry scented lipstick that she always loves to wear. You pull away and look at her lovingly, resisting the urge to tuck a strand of hair that covers her eyes. You know that the photographer is still snapping away, capturing this exact moment, so you don’t wanna ruin it with your fingers in front of her face. 

The reception comes swiftly, with all the guests from before admiring both of your new dashing outfits. Your best man kicks off the event with a speech, surprising you with how much detail he knew about your relationship with Jiheon, even mentioning how panicked you were when you messed up Jiheon’s engagement ring size. Thankfully enough, the ring now perfectly sits with its rightful owner—the woman in that cream dress she loves dearly because it was one of your first Valentine gifts to her—who you can now proudly call as your wife.

Shortly after, both of you are on the small stage, about to cut into your wedding cake. Specially made by your sister, the strawberry cake melts in your mouth as Jiheon feeds it to you, smiling and laughing brightly when some icing got onto your nose. You will never forget that eyesmile and that sweet laughter of hers when you put a little icing on her own nose, with the audience swooning over your shenanigans.

Your first dance went terribly—both of you were off-rhythm, your feet and legs keeps getting tangled with each other, your heads would bump as you turn her around—but all of that didn’t matter. How she rests against your chest and wrapped up in your arms, swaying to the soothing music has made it into a precious moment that you’ll remember until the end. 

After a few more songs passed, you let Jiheon continue her dance with her mother while you make your way to the bar. The bartender hands you a bourbon, and you watch your wife enjoying herself in the moment from afar. Your heart feels the warmth of pure satisfaction and relief, finally being able to tie up another chapter in your life, especially with the one that has changed your life for the better. Without Jiheon, you definitely wouldn’t be the man that you are today. As you look upon that silver ring on your finger, that perfect, complete sense of rightness fills your mind, reminiscing every choice that you’ve ever made in order to be in this exact moment.

Suddenly, as you were deep into your feels, a familiar face comes into your view.

You look to your left and sees Chaeyoung holding up two bottles of champagne in front of you. “Hey, Wooyoung, help me pick a champagne! Should I go with Moët, or Veuve?” 

“Wha—” Before you can answer, your vision starts getting blurry.

You blink a few times. Your sense finally comes back into your body. 

In the midst of your confusion, Chaeyoung’s voice rings in your ear, “Wooyoung? Choi Wooyoung? Helloooo?”

“Yah, Choi Wooyoung! Are you listening?”

The bar vanishes. The bright dance floor dims out. All of the guests disappears in the middle of their dance, and suddenly, you’re in the campus’s cafeteria, with students flocking all over having their lunch and enjoying their break. In front of you was still Chaeyoung however, not in her black dress, but in a green sweater, and a spoon in her hand instead of the champagne, looking at you confusingly. Your heart pounds fast, like you just finished running a marathon, while the mind is deciphering what just happened to you.

Your voice comes out rough. “I’m sorry?”

Chaeyoung sighs, “I asked about what champagne I should get for my sister’s wedding, Moët, or Veuve. Then you just stared at me blankly, like you just saw a ghost.”

You shake your head a little, trying to shake of the lingering feeling of Jiheon’s hand in yours, and the weight of a wedding ring that isn’t there. 

Another voice comes from your right, “Are you okay, oppa?” 

The girl in your daydream appears now in real life, not as your wife, but currently as your girlfriend of two years. Jiheon looks at you with concern in her eyes, and she asks the question again, this time holding your arm. You notice the empty spot on her ring finger almost immediately. For a second, you swear you can still see the diamond ring there—but alas, it is nothing of a future memory that you will look forward into making it a reality.

You take her hand into yours. “I’m fine, honey. Just blacked out for a bit there.”

Chaeyoung snickers, “Assignment’s getting to you already? You should take a break man, you’ve been working a lot.”

“Aww, you actually care about me? That’s new,” you reply.

She rolls her eyes. “Hey, whatever happens to you would break that girl’s heart, you know.” Chaeyoung says, pointing at Jiheon with her spoon.

Jiheon suddenly realizes something and looks at her watch. “Uhh unnie, don’t you have a date with Ren soon by the way?”

Chaeyoung’s eyes widen, and at the same time, her phone lights up. “Oh shit!”

And with that, laughter breaks from both of you, seeing how Chaeyoung struggles to finish her meal, stuffing all her belongings into her bag and running for her life to her date. As you watch her leave the cafeteria, you decide that it is time to go back to your apartment as you had finished all of your classes for the day. Jiheon agrees, as she also wants to cook dinner for today, so you help her pack her things, and make your way back home.

The walk to your apartment is rather calm. It was raining earlier, so the surroundings are a good mix of cold and warmth. Your mind tries to ignore it, but the daydream earlier felt too real for you. Hope starts to build within you, confident that the daydream will eventually be a reality. Though your natural skeptic instincts starts to flood your mind as well—like what if your parents suddenly disagree with your choice? What if your timing wasn’t right? What about the funding for the wedding, will you have enough?

Seeing how spaced out you were opted Jiheon to tug your arm for your attention. “Oppa, you’re doing it again.”

You immediately snapped out of your trance. “Huh? What did I do?”

She pokes her finger on your cheek. “That face. You’re thinking too much.”

“Oh. You saw it huh?”

Jiheon sighs, “How would I not?”

You snicker, “It’s nothing really. I’ve just been daydreaming a lot, I guess.”

“Like with Chaeyoung unnie earlier?” You nod. “What did you dreamt about?”

“It’s… a little embarrassing honestly,” you start. “But it’s definitely not bad per se.”

“Well then tell me!”

“So um, I thought about us, in this garden, having a…” You hesitate, but quickly enough, you finish off your words. “Our wedding together.”

Jiheon stops, which brings you to a stop as well. Her eyes brightens. “Whaaaaat?! Our wedding? Tell me more, tell me more!”

You smile at her reaction, and continue the walk. “Well, I just remember seeing how mom was crying out and how your dad laughed at how badly I messed up my speech. A lot of cameras, like a lot. Ren gave a speech at the reception too.”

“Did we have a cake?” she asks.

“We do. It was a strawberry cake from my sis. Then we had that dance—we were terrible at it, but you kept laughing out loud everytime you stepped on my shoes.”

Jiheon laughs, “You are the one that has a stiff body!”

“Blame Ren for making me burn my abs in training.”

“Well, I see nothing wrong with your dreams oppa. What got you so tensed up then?” 

You blink a few times and starts fumbling your words. “Honestly, it’s just—hm… I—maybe,”

“Oppa.” Jiheon says steadily.

“Yeah?”

She lets herself go from your arm, and move right in front of you. Her hands clasps themselves together behind her back, and her eyes curls into that eyesmile you love dearly. The sun suddenly shines directly behind her as the words that left her mouth diminishes all the worries that you have in your head. You couldn’t help but to just smile, and let your heart beat gets faster, as your entire being has fallen much more harder for this woman. 

“Just say the words whenever, oppa. I’m always ready and waiting for you.”

For now, the future awaits.

===========================================

You wrap your coat around Saerom and plant a kiss on her hair once you get the chance.

"I was kidding," she giggles, "I'm not that cold." Despite her words, she snuggles your coat a little bit more before she tries taking it off. However, the moment the skin of her hands are exposed to the frigid air, she shivers and rubs them together.

"There's no point in lying, Rommie. You're about as hard to read as a children's vocabulary book." Your hands meet her cheeks, a miscalculation on your part, and she shivers at how cold you are. Her eyes fill with a sort of shy sadness, but her quick thinking saves you both.

"Uhh, my legs are tired too. Carry me?" she asks bashfully, knowing you can't refuse her. Of course you oblige, and as you pick her up in a piggyback ride, she wraps both your and her coat around you to keep you warm too.

~~~

The bowl clatters to the table, spilling its contents all over the surface. Your yelp is loud and sharp, reflecting the pain that covers four of your fingers in the hot soup.

"Fucking idiot," Hayoung grunts. She rushes to wipe your hand free of the liquid, while simultaneously righting and filling the bowl your dropped with cold water. She places it in front of you and dips your fingers inside.

"Be more careful next time." Her voice is stern like it always is when you get hurt. "I can't always be around to look after you and keep you safe. It's like you're doing all this on purpose, honestly."

Behind the scolding, you know her words come from a place of genuine worry and care. Of course they do; her heart can't bear seeing you in pain. Hayoung's gaze never leaves your hand, her fingers never leave your wrist. She has to make sure you're okay.

"It was just an accident, my beloved bread loaf. It wouldn't kill me." The worry in her eyes balloon more, as if she's near tears.

Ease her worries, pull her in and plant a kiss on her exposed forehead. "But okay, I'll be careful. I'm sorry."

Her gaze softens as she finally meets your eyes. A small smile forms at the corners of her mouth before her attention returns to your healing hand.

She fishes your fingers out of the bowl and carefully kisses each one after every word: "I love you too."

~~~

You find Jiwon outside the laundry room with her arms crossed in front of her chest and a finger between her teeth, evidently lost in thought. As you approach her, the smell of detergent overpowers you, and the sound of bubbles popping vigorously out of sight grows louder and louder.

She finally notices you getting closer, and she holds out her hand to stop you. "Okay, before you get mad, know that I did everything right. Something's broken."

"What did you-" you grunt, but as you round the corner and peer into the laundry room, you find the floor covered in suds and the washing machine whirring like it never whirred before.

"See? Broken." Jiwon places her hands on her hips proudly, proud to show none of this was her fault.

Your gaze flies to her in disbelief, and her features drop in disappointment. Her eyes meet the floor between her feet and her voice lowers in volume.

"You're mad," she mutters ashamedly, "I'm sorry, honey. I don't know what happened."

The washing machine finally stops whirring, but the lights all throughout your apartment flicker. You frantically rush for the circuit breaker and flip the master switch off, nearly slipping as you do, and darkness falls all around the two of you.

"It's alright," you sigh. You pat her on the shoulder and pull her in for a snuggle. "You're not hurt, honey?" Stroke her hair and comfort her, still wary that she might be keeping something else about the situation from you.

"Nope, I'm fine, but I have to own up to something: I maaaaybe forgot to read the instructions." Her laugh cuts through the tension of the situation, and you find yourself laughing with her. It'll be a headache tomorrow to get all this fixed, but for now, it's a welcome slow dance with your girlfriend in the dark.

~~~

The two of you head off to a nearby shade as Jisun hums happily at the sweet flavor of her ice cream. She's the type to take bites out of it, and while you found that a bit weird, it takes nothing away from how much you love her.

"What flavor is that again?" you ask while licking your lips free of your own ice cream. She takes a second before meeting your eyes, evidently really enjoying her cold treat.

"It's- Ahahaha, look at you!" She points to your chin while bellowing a hearty laugh. She nearly folds in half as her joy consumes her; each time she rises and takes in the sight of you, she laughs again.

Confused, you fish our your phone and inspect yourself in the screen. In your reflection you find a dab of your rocky road on your nose and a line of it from your lower lip to your chin. It suddenly connects what Jisun was laughing so hard about:

"I'm sorry, love, you a bit look like a clown!" She struggles to get her laughter under control, but loses it when you pull a funny face for her. She pounds your chest weakly, announces her sides are starting to hurt, and yet, her laughter never lets up.

There's no shame nor judgment in her reactions, and you know full well that she's only overflowing with joy to be spending a perfect day like this out with you. There's no harm in laughing at yourself once in a while, especially when you get to hear Jisun's as well.

~~~

You shut the door behind you and walk over carefully to Seoyeon's bed. She lifts up the covers and hurries you in despite you trying your hardest not to spill the ramyeon you cooked for her.

"Thaaank you, sweetheart," she cheers, taking the bowl and chopsticks from you and placing it carefully on her lap over the blanket. She cuddles up to you happily before taking her first bite of your cooking, and she shakes in contentment once the savory taste of the food washes over her tongue.

As the TV drones on in the background, you wrap her in a warm embrace. You have half a mind to scold her, wanting to tell her off for not getting up all day, but with a sight like this, you really hate to break the peace.

Instead, you watch as she devours the ramyeon bite by bite, her eyes never leaving the TV, and her head never lifting off your shoulder. The scent of her hair fills your nose, and the warmth of her body calms you down and releases tension you didn't even know you had.

"Say aaahhhhh." Seoyeon lifts up a bite of her ramyeon and blows on it, then brings it over to your mouth. She stares expectantly as she waits for you to open up, and who are you to decline?

She thoughtfully offers you the bite of her food, her food, and you eat it gratefully. Her eyes turn into crescents as her smile takes over her features, and for a moment you take in the beauty of Lee Seoyeon.

~~~

You snap what might be the millionth picture of her today, probably not even she knows how many you've taken for her so far, and hand your phone back to her for inspection.

"Hmm, no, still not it. Take a few more." She walks back to the wall and strikes another hot pose. Her finger flies towards the stairs, and you understand that she wants you at a higher vantage point for a better angle.

You take a number of steps up the flight, and point your lens at her once more. "Chae, please, we've been here for hours. Can't you just pick the best one?" you whine, but you still fulfill your duty of snapping pictures of her. The light from the flash washes over her features and figure, and you're once again reminded that she's gorgeous. Why even whine about merely taking pictures when this is your muse?

She swipes back your phone and scrolls through your gallery, carefully scrutinizing each photo. She settles on one, and favorites it. "Hehe, thank you, baby. Send all those to me except that one with the heart. "

You take back your phone and find the photo she's talking about, and you notice that by her standards it's the best one out of them all. She flashes a beautiful smile at you, no more pictures, as she wraps you in a warm and grateful embrace.

"Why not this one? I thought you'd like it the most."

"It is! And that one you keep for yourself. Only for your eyes." She kisses you playfully on the lips before smiling again, "For being the best boyfriend ever."

~~~

The live band fills the room with a sophisticated symphony, all the while pieces of silverware clink against plates and hushed, faraway voices of the snooty and rich reach your ears. You try your best to ignore the atmosphere of this fancy dinner, with the only thing in the world making it semi-bearable having a terrible time as well.

"I can't believe I let you drag me all the way out here." Nagyung's knife clacks against the fine porcelain making up her plate, most probably leaving scratch marks on the priceless dinnerware. She retrieves a poorly-cut bite of the tough steak, sighs, and eats it anyway. Nagyung spends a bit more time than usual trying to chew the meat before ultimately swallowing with a grimace. "My mouth isn't made for food like this. I need pizza and Yakult."

"If I recall correctly," you retort, your voice unexpectedly harboring a harsh tone, "it's your fault we're here. You weren't satisfied with suffering alone and you just had to bring me along as a plus-one." The fish's pepper overwhelms your taste buds and you make for your glass of water again. Just one gulp is enough to wash it down, but the sheer amount of fish left on your plate disheartens you.

"Look, I'm sorry. I knew it'd be boring, but I didn't think it would be this bad," Nagyung sighs, shuffling her peas and corn around the plate. You can tell with how she sounds that she means it, and by the way that she acts that she regrets ever mentioning this to you.

Feeling guilty at losing your temper, you attempt to reassure her. It's the least you could do, once you realize how utterly disrespectful what you just said to her was, and try to make up for embarrassing her like that. "This ends at 11, right? Just enough time to get to that Italian place by the park before it closes?"

She looks up at you with a face riddled with shock, but then is quickly replaced with a shining grin. Her teeth gleam in the candlelight as her adorable giggles reach your ears.

"We can just about make it if we break four speeding laws on the way." Her tone is now filled with an unmatched excitement, like the first shot of espresso on a dull morning.

"Awesome. Pick up the pizza, stock up on Yakult, get the hell home. Perfect crime."

Nagyung laughs out loud, attracting the attention of a few others near your table. She covers her mouth, but the smile never leaves her eyes as she whispers: "Are we stealing the pizza too? What do you mean 'crime?!'"

"Figure of speech, dummy," you declare as you twirl your fork in the air like a wizard, "But not completely off the table."

~~~

Jiheon flips the leaf over and over, examining every vein it has. Her eyes rake over the stalk to try and find any defining features at all, but her search evidently turns up nothing of value.

"What type of tree is this?" Her question is innocent, and she's so engrossed in the specimen that she even forgets to look at you.

"Damned if I knew. What am I, a tree-ologist?" Your joke steals her attention, but she responds with only a blank stare.

"Arborist," she says in passing, her attention turning back to the leaf. "They're called arborists."

"Right..." you mutter, shame rising to your cheeks at your apparently immature attempt at humor. Jiheon is too smart for you sometimes, and you don't always connect.

She picks a leaf off the branch and walks over to you. Your girlfriend drops it onto your palm and says "Keep, please. Wanna look up when we get home."

You nod and put the leaf away in your jacket pocket, and she watches as you expertly stow her specimen in a secure place on your person. Once the both of you are sure the leaf is safe, she clings to your arm and snuggles, the image of pure joy.

"What's gotten into you?" Your question is innocent and maybe a little bit dense, but it only serves to make her smile grow wider.

Jiheon snuggles more into your arm and even plants a kiss on your shoulder. She looks up at you with adoration, but something tells you she has one teeny bit of mischief up her sleeve.

"Nothing, you're just cute, that's all. Thank you." She kisses you on the cheek and refuses to explain any further. Her eyes look ahead as the two of you continue your stroll through her neighborhood.

Jiheon is too smart for you sometimes, and you don't always connect. In the rare times that you do, it feels like the world is right. But in the times that you don't, like now, it only reminds you how much more of her you're looking forward to seeing.

~~~

The wind of a late autumn night was perfectly chilly, just enough to feel the breeze caress the skin without needing more than a hoodie. The street was completely quiet. If you were to listen carefully, maybe you might have noticed the buzzing of the street lamps and the few shop signs that were left turned on. The colours warm up your eyes, it’s the pumpkin orange that you see in every store and café at this time of the month, and you can see it even at night through the lights.

You take your usual route to the park through the only unlit side of the meadow. Although you can barely make out anything, you’ve memorized all the necessary steps so you have nothing to worry about. 

You can see a figure on the hill, her familiar silhouette is illuminated by the moonlight. She was dancing and humming a song, without much emphasis, just softly outlining the moves. You can already feel yourself smiling before you even get to see her smile while walking towards her. 

You stop to listen to her, to watch her dance. It’s a lucky opportunity, you don’t usually get to see her ‘perform’. She was just in the middle of moving her hair when she heard your steps. You curse yourself for ruining the moment and she curses herself for not hearing you sooner. She stands still for a moment, with her flatly embarrassed smile, and tries to cover her face with her hair. She grabs a handful of the strands and looks away, concealing every inch of her skin.

“Sorry, Saerom, I didn’t mean to stop you…” you say, chuckling at her cute behavior. 

“How long were you there for?” she mutters, still keeping her face covered. You can barely hear her words.

“I just got here. Well, you were dancing so well, I just couldn’t help but… look at you.”

“What’s wrong with you…?” Saerom whines and nervously paces around, making circles in the grass. You can hear her smile in how she talked, the fluster in her voice was so irresistibly cute. Her eyes flicker back and forth, between you and the ground.

You chuckle and make your way to her side. You pat her shoulder and sit down on the ground. Saerom takes a seat too, slowly unraveling herself from the hair. 

“New choreo?” you ask.

“Yeah.”

“Was it yesterday or…?”

“Today. She showed it to me to teach me to have more groove,” Saerom says. She looks away to the city and can only find the blue sky cut by the black shape of the buildings. This park was her favorite escape, a place she could go to whenever she needed, whenever she wanted. And in this place, she’d always find her favorite person, to whom she could confine any thought or worry. 

“Are you having a hard time?”

“It is… a little challenging, I’d say. It’s not very immediate—the groove—it’s really about feeling and I can’t really observe it.” Saerom is playing with the hem of her shirt. She is the type of person to get nervous and worried quite easily. The thought of being left behind was something that always haunted her even though her skills were already at an excellent level. You could call her a perfectionist.

She lets out a long sigh. “Will I ever get it right?”

“A lot of idols still don’t have it and they have been dancing for years. You’re doing fine, Saerom. You’re just fine-tuning small things now. You will figure it out.”

“I hope so…”

“By the way,” you change the topic, “Are all the members sleeping already?”

“Ah, the kids,” that’s how she called her members, having to constantly take care of them. “Yeah, they’re already tucked in their beds.”

“Well, done, Mom.”

“Yah!” Saerom slaps your arm and pushes you, to which you roll on the grass. “Didn’t I tell you already to quit calling me that? It makes me feel really old.”

“Oh come on, it’s basically what you’re doing, you shouldn’t feel offended. You’re just really good at being a mom.”

“I’ll punch you.”

“Sorry, captain.”

“That’s more like it.”

There’s a second of comfortable silence between you two. You take the time to stretch and she yawns. The wind howls and the strands of grass stand up in unison. Saerom’s skin shivers, she tries to make herself smaller, clinching her legs together, and hugging her chest, and you can see goosebumps on her arms. You give her your jacket, it wasn’t as thick but at least she wouldn’t have to wake up the next day with a cold.

Saerom turns with a surprised expression when you put it on your shoulders. Her big eyes as round as her lips, mouthing an ‘oh’. She offers you a grateful smile and slips her arms into the sleeves, snuggling into the oversized jacket.

She almost looks like your girlfriend. Almost.

“I know I’ve talked about myself for a while but how about you? Have you been resting? Like how the coach told you—how everyone told you?” Saerom asks you not in a curious way but with more of a scolding tone. 

You chuckle and rub your head. She already asked you this question before and you already gave her the same answer that you were going to give her now: “Uhm, actually no.” You couldn’t lie to her, she would’ve taken the truth out of you in five minutes or less.

“I already told you! You rascal!” Saerom pushes you with her shoulder. “You’re gonna faint or something.”

“I know, I know…” you say. “But I just can’t stay still, I have to keep myself busy.” You turn around to see if Saerom is being even a little understanding but you can only see her furrowed eyebrows on her stare of disappointment. “Well, actually,” you point your index at her, “Shouldn’t you also be resting?”

“Me?!” 

“Yeah, you. Didn’t you sprain your ankle a couple of days ago?” you ask with a big smug plastered on your face.

“W-well, my coach wouldn’t have taught me the new choreo if the injury was that serious right? I think I’m perfectly fine.”

“Did she know about the ankle?”

“No…”

“See?!”

“Besides, it doesn’t even hurt anymore!” Saerom tells you. “You were the one taping it for me. It doesn’t hurt a single bit.”

“Whatever you say…”

You both giggle. If you wanted to, both of you could come up with endless excuses all night long without getting tired. It was helpless, you knew it. 

Saerom sighs for the second time this night. “It’s been kinda hectic these days, hasn’t it?”

You hum.

“It’s just that a lot has been happening all at once. I need a break.”

You think for a moment and get an idea. There was a bowling alley 5 minutes from the park. It wasn’t the best place—just a cheap option for kids that want to skip school or just a good stop to have a chat. But it opened very late and it’d be a good place to pay a visit right now. 

“Hey, wanna go to the bowling?”

“What? Bowling?”

“Yeah, the one near the ice cream shop, it’s pretty close.”

“But I don’t have any money on me—”

“I’m gonna pay for your ticket, don’t worry. Consider it a gift.”

“Oh, w-well thank you…” Saerom can barely speak that you have already stood up and taken your hand. You give her a quick “let’s go” and guide her to the place. She follows you without complaint. You take confident and quick steps but have to slow down to match Saerom’s pace. You walk by her side and listen to her rambling about her days. 

Saerom’s beauty under the contrasting lights of the moon and the street lights looks artificial. You often space out, just observing her eyes, angular and mesmerizing—they’re so captivating and expressive that you can make out whatever she was saying by just observing the movement of her eyelids. Her smooth skin beautifully glow and you simply can’t look away.

She catches you looking more than once. Saerom would turn around, see your enchanted gaze, understand that it was because of her, and then hide her embarrassed smile away. After a while, she’d forget that happened, talk again, turn around again, and it’d happen again.

You arrive at the bowling alley later than you should have because you wanted to hear more of her voice and she wanted to be beside you as much as possible.

The dimly lit, retro-themed bowling alley was bathed in a nostalgic glow. Neon lights flickered, casting multicolored shadows on the vintage arcade games lining the walls. The place has been opened for a very long time, it wasn’t ‘vintage before’, maybe just a little nostalgic but with time, it gained that new adjective. 

You pay for the tickets, and go to the lanes.

“You know, I’ve never been any good at bowling,” Saerom confesses as she sets her uncertain hands on the bowling balls. “I tried it only once or twice when I was younger.”

“It will be fine. I don’t think it’s difficult.” “You don’t think?" Saerom asks you. “Have you played this before?”

“Well…,” you start, stressing the syllable, “does Mii Sport count?”

Saerom laughs. You love how organic and sincere her laughter is. It’s uncomposed, a bunch of hiccups of air messily stacked together, bouncing between high yelps and low giggles. It’s because you don’t judge her and because she doesn’t have to act as if there was a camera or microphone recording her. 

“I swear I was the absolute best at it,” you laugh. “I always strike.”

“Yeah, and I bet all the miis were cheering for you right?” Saerom jokes.

“Exactly. Exactly. It was standing ovations all night.”

You each select a bowling ball. Saerom already knows how to put the fingers in the holes and has to spend a couple of seconds showing you how to hold the ball. 

She’s the first one to throw. She positions herself with her left hand extended in front. She takes small steps as she aims for the foul line. She backswings the ball behind her and releases the ball smoothly. She keeps her eyes on the target pin, the ball spins and spins until it reaches the right side and knocks down half of the pins.

She turns around with a surprised smile, her lips half closed. “That wasn’t half bad.”

“No, it was good. It was good.”

The machine clicks and springs as it puts back each and every pin. 

“Now, it’s my turn.” You aim for the center pin and mimic Saerom’s movements. You throw the ball, it spins a little, and it ends up in the corner, hitting nothing.

Saerom chuckles.

“You really lost your touch huh?”

“I—the oil made me slip, yeah the oil. It happens all the time.”

Saerom stops her laughter to raise an eyebrow at your ridiculous remarks. She points an accusing finger at you. “First of all, the oil is only on the lanes, there was no way, you could have slipped here. Second, you don’t even play bowling. You’re a liar.”

“We—well, it—I’m just not a regular player.”

“You don’t play at all.”

“That’s what I’m saying,” you say and shrug your shoulders. “Besides, that was just a warm-up. Your turn now.”

Saerom picks up her ball, taking her time to line up her shot. You were convinced she must have played it way more than just ‘once or twice’ when she was young. By the way she was moving, it was like she already developed her style, with a small hop before releasing the ball. It rolls gracefully down the lane and strucks the pins with precision. And… a perfect strike. Were you even surprised at that point? 

The crash of the pins echoes through the alley, and Saerom raises her arms in triumph. “Did you see that? You saw that, right?”

You applaud her, genuinely impressed. The lonely sounds of your clapping and her high-pitched screams bounce around the walls of the alley. Only accompanied by the mechanical sound of the re-pinning machines. “Okay, okay, I understand now,” you say.

The game continues, and you two go back and forth between her impressive throws and your miserable attempts. 

You go again, your eyes locked on the pins. You had to take down at least half. Or a fourth. At least. You release the ball with precision and it sails down the lane, knocking down all but one pin. You clench your fist as you hear Saerom’s excited clapping.

Saerom steps up for her final turn, her heart pounding with excitement. She knows that she needs a strike to win. She takes a deep breath, focuses on the pins, and sends the ball down the lane with all her might. Your and her eyes follow the ball, all the way down. It hits the pocket perfectly, knocking all of them down.

She jumps for joy, her victory assured.

You exchange high-fives and congratulate her. Usually in movies and shows, it’d be the guy that had to fake his lack of skills to make the girl win. Saerom, however, did it all herself.

“So what did I win?” she asks, her voice trembling from the rapid breaths she takes, the excitement still running in her veins.

“I already paid your ticket, come on.”

“Alright, you’re right. Let’s say I won my ticket.”

You were turning to leave with Saerom but as you moved, your head cast a shadow against the strong light of the two arcade machines in the corner, creating a stunning silhouette that glowed with a warm, golden hue.

Saerom's smile gradually fades, her gaze fixed on you. She watches as a radiant halo seemed to envelop you, and the time around her slow down. Saerom observes your eyes connecting with hers, a broad grin on your lips that sent a nervous flutter through her.

Unexpectedly, her shoe slipped. It should have been a minor mishap, but Saerom's mind was too preoccupied with the image of you in this new light. She stumbles forward with a force that might have left her with a bloody nose if it weren't for your swift reflexes.

In a matter of seconds, you were right in front of her, both arms securely around her waist, preventing her from taking a tumble. Well, at least preventing most of it.

Saerom's chin rests against your shoulder as she caught her breath, her hands gripping your biceps tightly. Your fragrance envelopes her senses, and she can't help but become acutely aware of how her body was pressed against yours.

You gently pull back to meet her eyes, raising a hand to sweep the stray, disheveled strands of hair behind Saerom's ear. "Hey, are you okay?"

A blush creeps up Saerom's cheeks, and the touch of your fingers against her skin sends a shiver down her spine. The breath seems to escape her lungs as she lifts her head, bringing her nose tantalizingly close to yours.

For a moment, there was silence, a moment where your eyes locked onto hers, and Saerom could hear the sound of her own heartbeat.

"Yeah, never been better," she finally manages to reply, her voice filled with warmth and affection.

It might have been the third time this week she found herself enchanted by your image. She has lived long enough to understand that the cause of all of this was her heart. It was your fault. 

As you walked her back to her dorm, she kept stealing glances at you. Maybe this was the right occasion, in the silence of the night, with no witnesses.

“Hey,” Saerom calls your attention.

“Yeah?”

“Thank you for today.”

“Oh, it’s no problem.”

“And thank you for always,” she says. “You always take care of me, even for the stupidest things.”

“You do the same with me Saerom,” you chuckle. “If it wasn’t for you, I’d always skip lunch. You cook for me almost every week. You might as well become a cook.”

She laughs and turns her eyes down. When she raises her head again, you see that there’s more in her eyes, she wasn’t just thanking you. 

The way you look at her feels like a magnetic pull, like a strong current drawing her in. When your fingers brush against her, it's as if all the barriers she's put up are suddenly crumbling. She can’t look at you in the eyes and she hugs you. "I think I'm starting to have feelings for you," she blurts out, and you react with wide-eyed surprise.

You stand there, stunned for a moment, your grip on her waist loosening slightly as you stammer, "I, um, what?"

Saerom just shrugs and bites her lip, avoiding eye contact. "I've never felt like this when I'm with anyone else. It's kind of frustrating."

Your response has a hint of shyness for the first time. "But I wouldn't want it any other way."

Taking a shaky breath, you let her words sink in. Despite all the playful flirting, you've never let yourself hope that she might feel the same way you do. Saerom has always been guarded, keeping her emotions locked away, and you're happy just being her friend. Even though your heart secretly wants more, that friendship is enough.

“I can truly be myself around you and… it’s so liberating. Whether I have a bad day or a good one, I just want to see you.”

With your bodies pressed close, you suddenly become hyper-aware of the situation. You notice how tightly she's holding onto you, how close your faces are. Maybe you aren't just friends after all.

It's only when a long silence hangs in the air that Saerom shakes her head and says, "Just forget I said anything."

Instinctively, you reach out and hold onto her hand as she tries to pull away. "I feel the same way."

Her eyes meet yours, searching for any sign of dishonesty, and you can see a different kind of vulnerability in her gaze, a hope for love mixed with fear of rejection.

"I really do," you say in a hushed tone, gently tracing her cheek with your hand, giving her a chance to pull away. When your touch meets her skin, her eyes close in a moment of sheer happiness, and she leans into your hand. It’s reassuring. 

“Sorry, this isn’t exactly romantic, for you to confess to me in this wet street…”

“What are you saying, silly? I don’t care about that.” Saerom whispers, her words carrying a weight of genuine affection. 

Saerom gave you a peck on the cheek, just to seal the deal. She was still very shy. 

“Well, I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Yeah.”

You wave at her, with sluggish movements caused by your momentary awkwardness and embarrassment. She exchanges a small wave and enters the dorm. You can hear her shoes rapidly step on the stairs, she was running. You let out the sigh you’ve been holding on until now and make your way back home. Maybe you’ll rest. So Saerom doesn’t get mad at you.

THE END

-

Surprised to say (or not), this game went very well.

The loading screen faded to reveal Summoner’s Rift, its iconic three-lane battlefield glowing under a stormy sky. The vibrant green jungle glistened, and the enemy Nexus loomed ominously at the far end of the map. As the countdown to minions ticking began, you adjusted your headset and glanced at the screens of the four idols next to you. This was going to be… interesting.

“All right,” you began, pointing at each of their monitors. “Jisun-ssi, you’re on top lane. Just stick near the tower and farm minions. Saerom-ssi, you’re mid. Same deal. Chaeyoung-ssi, jungle, but don’t… uh, don’t overthink it.”

“And me?” Nagyung asked, locking in as Jinx, the manic, rocket-wielding ADC. She leaned forward, gripping the mouse like it owed her money.

“You’re bot with me. Just follow what I'll say. I'll support you with my Thresh.”

Her smirk was sharp. “Carry me, pro player.”

-

The game kicked off with your champion, Thresh, and Nagyung’s Jinx heading down the bottom lane. You expertly wove between minions, last-hitting to gain gold while zoning the enemy duo—a scary-looking Lucian and a tanky Leona.

“Stay behind the minions,” you said, pinging the map. “Leona’s going to try to stun you if you get too close.”

“Got it.” Nagyung’s Jinx strafed left and right, tossing out attacks with her minigun. Her voice wavered slightly. “Wait, why does she keep walking at me? I didn’t even do anything!”

“She’s baiting you,” you said calmly, flinging Thresh’s hook to snag Lucian. The chains glowed green as you yanked him forward, stunning him. “Wreck him!”

Nagyung hesitated for a fraction of a second, then unleashed a flurry of rockets. Lucian’s health plummeted, forcing him to retreat under the safety of his turret. “I did it! I hit him!” she exclaimed, bouncing in her seat.

“Nice. Now, don’t get cocky,” you warned.

-

Meanwhile, Saerom’s Orianna was standing in the middle of the lane, her robotic sphere idly rolling in circles.

“Saerom unnie, move!” Nagyung yelled, glancing at her screen.

“I’m observing,” Saerom replied serenely, as the enemy Yasuo slashed through her health bar. “This is fascinating.”

“You’re feeding!” Nagyung groaned.

Saerom tilted her head. “What does that mean?”

You chimed in, trying to keep the frustration out of your voice. “It means you’re giving the enemy gold every time you die. Just stay back and use your ball to poke.”

“Poke?” Saerom echoed, frowning.

“Like this.” You flicked your mouse at her screen, gesturing to how she should aim Orianna’s sphere. She tried, sending the orb in the right direction, but it stopped short.

“Close enough,” you muttered.

-

Chaeyoung’s Evelynn prowled through the jungle, clicking furiously on the minimap.

“Where do I go now?” she asked, spinning the camera wildly.

“You’re supposed to gank,” you said, keeping your focus on bot lane.

“Gang?”

“Gank. Attack a lane to give your teammates an advantage.”

“Ohhh.” Chaeyoung hovered near mid-lane, waiting for Yasuo to push forward. “I got this. Watch me.”

Saerom had just respawned and returned to lane, cautiously poking at minions. Yasuo spotted Chaeyoung’s Evelynn and turned his attention to her.

“Help me, Saerom-unnie!” Chaeyoung cried, smashing her keyboard.

“Good luck,” Saerom replied, retreating to her tower.

Yasuo cut through Chaeyoung in three quick slashes.

“You didn’t help me!” Chaeyoung said, throwing her hands up.

“You didn’t ask nicely,” Saerom countered, her tone utterly calm.

-

The match spiralled into chaos as the timer hit 25 minutes. Both teams had lost their outer turrets, and the map became a war zone of ambushes and desperate team fights.

“We need to group!” you called, pinging the map near Baron Nashor. “Stick together, and don’t get caught alone.”

Jisun’s Teemo, however, was wandering aimlessly in the top jungle.

“Jisun, what are you doing?” Nagyung shouted.

“I’m placing mushrooms! You said to place mushrooms!”

“Not in the middle of nowhere!” Nagyung exclaimed.

The enemy team capitalized on the lack of coordination, ambushing your group near Baron. Leona’s ultimate landed a perfect stun on Nagyung, and she frantically clicked to escape.

“Help me! Help me!” she cried.

You flashed forward as Thresh, landing a Flay on the enemy ADC and peeling for her. “You’re safe. Focus Lucian.”

Nagyung’s Jinx unleashed her ultimate, Super Mega Death Rocket, landing a clean hit and finishing him off.

“Yes! Did you see that?!” she yelled, nearly jumping out of her chair.

“Carry harder,” you teased, shielding her from another attack.

-

The game ended with a hard-fought push into the enemy base. Nagyung’s Jinx secured a pentakill, her face glowing with pride as the words “VICTORY” flashed across the screen.

Jisun and Chaeyoung, however, were in shambles.

“Why didn’t anyone save me?” Jisun complained.

“You were 0-12, Jisun-unnie. There’s nothing to save,” Nagyung retorted.

Chaeyoung pouted. “I got MVP in spirit.”

“No, you didn’t,” Saerom said, still calm as ever. “But good effort.”

You leaned back in your chair, rubbing your temples. “So… how did you all feel about your first game?”

Nagyung grinned triumphantly. “I carried.”

“You were decent,” you said, smirking. “But don’t let it get to your head.”

“Oh, it’s already there,” she shot back. “Rematch next time?”

“Only if Jisun and Chaeyoung promise to read a guide first.”

-

The idea came about in true Nagyung fashion—bold and overconfident.

“Well….I think we can take you,” she declared, arms crossed, after the producer suggested wrapping up the shoot. Her bandmates froze mid-pack-up, turning to her like she’d just declared war on a dragon with a butter knife.

“You think we can beat them?” Jisun asked, pointing at you. “Have you seen how today went? We’re terrible.”

“You’re terrible,” Nagyung corrected. “I’m decent. And if we all gang up, we might have a chance.”

Chaeyoung, ever the chaos agent, perked up. “I’m in. Let’s take them down.”

Saerom tilted her head, considering. “It could be fun.”

You couldn’t resist grinning. “Alright, but I’ll make it fair. I’ll play Blitzcrank—no damage, just good old hooks and crowd control.”

Jisun narrowed her eyes. “Isn’t that the creepy robot with the grabby hand?”

“Yep,” you said cheerfully. "I like playing him for the grabby hand"

“I don’t like this,” she muttered, sinking lower into her chair.

The game loaded up, the arena illuminated by the eerie glow of the Rift. Blitzcrank’s hulking frame materialized at your spawn point, his glowing fist radiating ominously.

“Alright,” you said into the mic. “This is a 1v4. No excuses if you lose.”

“Talk less, grab less,” Nagyung shot back, locking in Caitlyn for her AD Carry pick. Beside her, Jisun picked Yuumi again (“She’s cute! Don’t judge me!”), Chaeyoung locked in Amumu, and Saerom, after much deliberation, went with Morgana.

“You’ve got a decent comp,” you admitted. “Let’s see if you can use it.” -

As the game timer hit 1:30, you maneuverer Blitzcrank toward mid-lane. His movements were slow but deliberate, the sound of clanking metal echoing with every step.

“Why’s he so creepy?” Jisun asked nervously.

“It’s intimidation,” Chaeyoung said confidently. “He’s scared of us.”

"Rude..!" You smirked, hiding in a bush near mid-lane. They were about to learn why hiding wasn’t the same as being safe.

Nagyung stepped forward, trying to poke you with Caitlyn’s long-range basic attacks. Her focus was split, though—she was too busy keeping Jisun tethered to her.

Perfect.

You pressed Q—Rocket Grab. A glowing hook shot out from Blitzcrank’s hand, snaking through the fog of war. It latched onto Nagyung, yanking her straight into your massive frame.

“What the—?!” she yelped.

Before she could react, you hit E—Power Fist. Blitzcrank’s fist glowed bright yellow as he knocked her into the air. A few auto-attacks later, her screen went grey.

“You died already?” Jisun wailed.

“He grabbed me out of nowhere!” Nagyung protested. “Where were you?”

“Attached to you!”

“Useless!” -

The chaos only grew. Blitzcrank thrived on unpredictability, and you used it to full effect. With every bush and dark corner, you waited patiently, like a predator.

Saerom cautiously approached the bot lane, farming minions with Morgana’s Q—Dark Binding. You stayed hidden, watching her pattern. She’d step up to the wave, then step back into the safety of the turret.

The moment she mis-stepped, you pounced.

A hook shot out, landing squarely on her.

“Noooo!” Saerom cried as you dragged her helplessly into the tower range. The turret’s lasers finished the job.

Nagyung groaned. “Why don’t you guys look at the map?!”

“I was looking at my character!” Saerom defended.

“Great,” Nagyung muttered. “Our jungler’s crying in the corner, our support’s attached to me like glue, and our mid-laner’s… farming daisies or something.”

“I’m trying! Stop yelling!” Jisun snapped. -

Despite their bickering, the girls started to improve—or at least coordinate better. Nagyung set traps with Caitlyn’s W—Yordle Snap Trap—while Chaeyoung dove into fights with Amumu’s Q—Bandage Toss.

You could feel the pressure. Even with Blitzcrank’s resilience, a 1v4 was tough. Every missed hook cost you time and cooldowns. Every misstep brought you closer to defeat.

“Guys, we can actually win this,” Nagyung said, her voice steely. “Stick together. Focus them down.”

“Yeah!” Chaeyoung echoed. “Let’s go, team!”

The final fight began at Baron Pit. You hid near the brush, ready to land a clutch grab.

They approached cautiously, sticking to the plan. Chaeyoung led the charge, tanking hits from Baron while the others poked from afar.

You waited for the perfect moment.

“Where is he?” Jisun whispered nervously.

“Probably hiding,” Saerom guessed.

“Just focus on Baron,” Nagyung commanded.

The moment they grouped too closely, you activated Blitzcrank’s R—Static Field. A shockwave of electricity stunned everyone in range.

“Gahhh!” Nagyung screamed.

“Not again!” Jisun cried.

You followed up with a hook, pulling Chaeyoung into your clutches. She dropped instantly, her health bar melting.

But they rallied.

Nagyung stepped up, pelting you with headshots. Saerom’s bindings locked you down, and Jisun’s healing kept them alive just long enough. Blitzcrank fell, the screen announcing: You Have Been Slain.

“YES!” Nagyung screamed, leaping out of her chair.

The others cheered, their laughter filling the room.

-

As the session wound down, Nagyung approached you, arms crossed but a smirk tugging at her lips.

“Next time,” she said, “we’re playing a game I’m good at.”

“Like what?” you asked.

“Anything but this,” she replied, laughing.

“Aww, fine” you said, extending your hand.

She shook it firmly, her eyes sparkling with determination. “And next time, I’m taking you down for real.”

“Looking forward to it,” you replied, grinning.

As the cameras packed up and the girls chatted excitedly about the shoot, you couldn’t help but feel a sense of satisfaction. Maybe coaching rookies wasn’t so bad after all—maybe after a few breaks before each match.