Min-ho Moon////Sarcasm Is Our Love Language
Warnings: Romantic Tension, Humor and Sarcasm, Sicknesses and Illness, Mild Language and Emotional Vulnerability
You walk into the room, your footsteps echoing slightly against the marble floor. Your eyes immediately land on Min-ho and your sister Kitty, seated way too close for your liking on the couch, laughing at something that clearly wasn’t that funny. You roll your eyes dramatically, tossing your bag onto the nearest chair with a thud. “Wow,” you say, your tone laced with sarcasm as your eyes flick between them. “So your boring little friend is here again.”
Min-ho looks up at you with that smug grin he always wears around you the one that makes your stomach flip even though you’d rather die than admit it. “Didn’t know they were letting in stray cats today,” he fires back smoothly, eyes lingering on you a second too long.
Kitty groans, already sensing the familiar tension thickening the air. “Can you two not do this for five seconds?”
You ignore her completely, walking past them and leaning against the edge of the table with your arms crossed, your gaze locked on Min-ho. “Didn’t realize we were hosting a charity event for the hopelessly dull.”
Min-ho laughs under his breath, standing up and walking toward you, the smirk still painted across his lips. “Please, you’ve been obsessed with me since day one. Admit it.”
You scoff, tilting your head. “The only thing I’m obsessed with is figuring out how someone can be so irritating and still think they’re charming.”
He steps closer, closing the distance between you two, his voice lower now. “Keep telling yourself that. But one of these days, you’re gonna crack.”
Your eyes meet his, heat flashing for a split second before you push past him with a scoff, refusing to let him win even though your heart’s already racing.
Kitty watches from the couch, rolling her eyes. “Seriously, just date already.”
But neither of you answer. You never do.
You’re in the kitchen, apron tied around your waist, sleeves rolled up as you move with practiced ease from the stove to the counter. The smell of garlic, soy, and spices fills the air, making the whole house feel warmer more alive. You stir the noodles one last time before plating everything, setting Kitty’s favorite dish neatly onto a tray. You add a small bowl of soup, garnish everything with care, then pick up the tray and head toward the living room.
Kitty’s still lounging on the couch, flipping through something on her phone, and Min-ho is annoyingly still there, stretched out like he owns the place. You ignore him entirely as you walk over to Kitty and place the tray in front of her.
“Here,” you say, softening just a bit for your sister. “I made it exactly how you like it extra mushrooms, no onions.”
Kitty beams. “You’re the best.”
You flash her a small smile, but before you can turn to head back to the kitchen, Min-ho lifts his head, brows raised with exaggerated offense.
“Uh… what about me?” he asks, sitting up a little straighter. “Don’t I get something?”
You stop, slowly turning your head to look at him like you just noticed he was still breathing your air. “Sorry,” you say flatly, with a hint of mock innocence in your voice. “I didn’t realize you were still here. You can go and serve yourself, though. Kitchen’s that way assuming you’re smart enough to figure it out.”
Min-ho lets out a short laugh, but there’s a flicker of something in his eyes as he stands, walking closer with a lazy confidence that irritates you more than it should. “Ouch. You really woke up extra bitter today, huh?”
You shrug, brushing past him on your way back to the kitchen. “Nope. Just allergic to freeloaders who overstay their welcome.”
He follows you anyway, leaning against the doorframe while you rinse a pan in the sink. “And yet, you still cooked enough for three. Freudian slip, maybe?”
You don’t even glance at him. “It’s called leftovers. Some of us like to plan ahead.”
He smirks, watching the way you deliberately avoid looking at him. “Sure. Keep pretending you don’t care.”
You slam the spoon down in the sink just a little harder than necessary. “Keep pretending you’re invited.”
Kitty glances between the two of you while nibbling at her food, clearly sensing the tension thickening by the second. She sets down her plate with a dramatic sigh.
“Okay,” she says, standing up and brushing nonexistent crumbs off her lap. “This is too much. I’m leaving before one of you stabs the other with a spoon or worse, starts flirting.”
You nearly choke on air. “Flirting?”
Min-ho snorts. “With her? Please. I’d rather lick a subway pole.”
You give him a tight-lipped smile. “Aw, and I’d rather be locked in a room with a hundred raccoons than have a full conversation with you. Looks like neither of us is getting what we want.”
Kitty grabs her phone and heads for the stairs. “Anyway, I’m out. Don’t burn the place down or make out in my absence. Both would be scarring.”
You and Min-ho both shout “Gross!” at the same time, then immediately scowl at each other. Kitty cackles all the way upstairs.
The silence that follows is sharp.
You start wiping the counter with way more aggression than necessary. “Why are you even still here?”
“I don’t know, maybe because your cooking smells like actual food for once? Normally it’s like… edible sadness in a bowl.”
You spin around, brandishing the dish towel like a weapon. “I will literally put dish soap in your plate.”
He raises an eyebrow. “So violent. Should I be worried? Is this the part where you throw a frying pan at me like in a cartoon?”
You narrow your eyes. “Don’t tempt me.”
He takes a slow step toward the kitchen, arms crossed. “You always do this, you know. Pretend I’m the one invading your space when you clearly love having me around.”
You let out a bark of laughter. “Love? Please. The only thing I love is when you leave. Or when you’re too busy annoying someone else to bother me.”
He grins like he’s just won something. “Then why do you always get so worked up when I talk to Kitty, huh?”
Your mouth opens. Closes. Then opens again. “Because you’re corrupting her. She used to be innocent, and now she’s quoting your terrible taste in movies and laughing at your bad jokes.”
“They’re great jokes,” he says, fake offended.
“They’re war crimes,” you deadpan.
He walks over to the stove and sniffs the pot, lifting the lid like he lives here. “Whatever. You made this much food. Deep down, you knew I’d show up.”
You smack his hand away with the spoon. “I made leftovers for myself, not for some overly confident weirdo who thinks sarcasm is a love language.”
He doesn’t move back, just leans on the counter, watching you. “You know, if I didn’t know any better, I’d say you argue with me so much because you’re actually into me.”
You stare at him for a long second. Then you roll your eyes so hard it’s a miracle they stay in your head.
“Oh please,” you mutter. “If I ever fall for you, just know that it’s a sign I’ve been replaced by an alien.”
He grins wider. “So… there’s a chance?”
You point the spoon at him. “One more word and I’m putting chili flakes in your lemonade.”
He raises his hands in surrender but that smug look doesn’t leave his face. “Still worth it.”
You groan and go back to stirring, but the corner of your mouth twitches just a little. Not that you’d ever let him see that.
You lean against the counter, arms crossed, glaring at him like he’s a stain that won’t come out no matter how hard you scrub. Min-ho takes a slow sip from his water bottle like he has all the time in the world and none of it includes taking a hint.
“My sister is in her room,” you say dryly, tilting your head. “Which means you can go now. Like, leave. Exit. Vacate the premises.”
Min-ho raises an eyebrow, looking around the kitchen as if he’s confused. “Oh? Are you kicking me out of a house that’s not even yours?”
Once again You roll your eyes so hard it’s a miracle they don’t get stuck. “I cook one meal and suddenly you’re acting like you pay rent. News flash microwaving leftovers in a silk shirt doesn’t make you part of the family.”
He sets the bottle down and walks closer, smirking like he’s enjoying this way too much. “So now you’re keeping track of my wardrobe? Wow. Obsessed much?”
You snort. “Please. The only thing I’m keeping track of is how long I’ve tolerated your face. We’re dangerously close to a world record.”
He puts a hand over his chest, mockingly touched. “You must really love me to put in that kind of effort.”
You hold up your hand like a stop sign. “Let’s get one thing straight I’d rather adopt a raccoon than ‘love’ you.”
“Cute. You’d name it after me, wouldn’t you?” he says, grinning.
You don’t even blink. “No. I’d name it Upgrade Min-ho less annoying, more useful, and it probably doesn’t talk back.”
He throws his head back laughing. “Wow, you’ve got jokes today. Who hurt you?”
You gesture to him dramatically. “You. Right now. By refusing to leave.”
He walks toward the door, pausing only to flash that smug, heart-stopping grin of his. “You sure you want me to go?”
You lift a kitchen knife and point it at the door. “Min-ho. Door. Now. Before I start using this for something other than vegetables.”
He holds his hands up in surrender. “Alright, alright. But don’t miss me too much.”
He finally steps out of the kitchen, and you let out an exaggerated sigh of relief though your lips twitch with the ghost of a smile you refuse to let him see.
You hear his voice float back from the hallway: “I’ll be back tomorrow! Try not to fall in love with me overnight!”
You yell back, “If I do, please call the paramedics. I’ve clearly suffered a brain injury.”
A few minutes after Min-ho finally leaves taking his cologne, his smirk, and all his cocky energy with him. you slump onto the couch, exhausted like you’ve just survived a natural disaster. You grab the throw pillow and scream into it dramatically before tossing it aside. Peace. Finally.
But it lasts about thirty seconds.
From the top of the stairs, you hear the soft padding of footsteps, and then your sister reappears, wearing her most infuriating smirk like it was custom-tailored for her face. She walks into the room like she owns it which, to be fair, she kind of does and leans casually against the wall, arms folded.
“So,” Kitty says, drawing the word out like she’s in a teen drama. “How was it?”
You slowly lift your head and give her a glare that could curdle milk.
“Oh, it was horrible,” you snap. “Awful. A nightmare. I am officially adding you to my enemies list.”
Kitty grins, unbothered. “You mean the list that’s just Min-ho’s name written fifty times in glitter pen?”
You point a finger at her. “You abandoned me with that human headache.”
She shrugs innocently. “You two were already bickering like a married couple. I thought I’d let nature take its course.”
“Nature?” you echo, practically choking on the word. “Nature?! Kitty, nature is gentle. Nature is flowers and rain and puppies. Min-ho is like… a sarcastic raccoon who thinks he’s God’s gift to the world!”
She snorts. “You keep comparing him to raccoons. I think that’s your love language.”
You groan and throw another pillow at her. She catches it with a laugh.“I was this close to poisoning his water bottle,” you mutter, flopping back dramatically onto the couch. “But nooo, I had to be polite because someone invited him and then ran away like the little traitor you are.”
Kitty sits beside you, grinning from ear to ear. “You’re welcome.”
“For what? Emotional trauma?”
“For giving you the perfect opportunity to flirt aggressively with the guy you’re clearly obsessed with.”
You sit up, wide-eyed. “I’m not obsessed.”
She raises an eyebrow. “You threatened to name a raccoon after him.”
You groan again, dragging your hands down your face. “You are the worst.”
“And yet,” she says sweetly, “you still made him dinner.”
You glare at her. “I hate you.”
She pats your shoulder like a supportive mom in a bad sitcom. “You’ll thank me at your wedding.”
You’re about to argue when she stands up and heads back toward the stairs. “Oh, and next time?” she calls over her shoulder. “Just kiss him and get it over with.”
You grab a cushion and chuck it at her retreating figure. “I’M GOING TO KILL YOU!”
Her laugh echoes down the hallway while you collapse back onto the couch, muttering to yourself, “I need new siblings. And a therapist.”
The next day, the sun is shining, birds are chirping, and you’re in your room silently praying that the universe grants you one just one day without Min-ho showing up and making your blood pressure spike. Unfortunately, fate is cruel and Kitty is nosy, so neither of those wishes are coming true.
Downstairs in the kitchen, Kitty is already sitting at the breakfast bar, lazily stirring her cereal when the front door opens. Speak of the devil.
Min-ho walks in like he always does like he owns the place. Hair perfectly tousled, sunglasses pushed up onto his head, wearing that same smug smile that makes people either want to kiss him or throw a shoe at his face. Maybe both.
Kitty doesn’t miss a beat. She perks up like a cat spotting prey. “Well, well, look who decided to come back after surviving the great battle of sass and sarcasm,” she says, raising an eyebrow.
Min-ho smirks, pulling up a stool beside her. “Good morning to you too, Miss Matchmaker.”
Kitty grins, setting her spoon down and folding her arms. “So… how was it?”
He raises an eyebrow. “How was what?”
She gives him a look. “Don’t play dumb. Yesterday. You and my sister. Alone. Unsupervised. Surrounded by sharp kitchen utensils.”
Min-ho chuckles, leaning back like he’s reminiscing on a summer vacation instead of a verbal boxing match. “Oh, it was great. She insulted me twenty-seven times, compared me to a raccoon again an upgrade this time, thank you very much and threatened to stab me with a spatula.”
Kitty gasps, mock offended. “A spatula? She likes you. She usually saves the knives for people she’s indifferent to.”
He laughs, shaking his head. “Yeah, I figured. The spatula was kind of her version of a love tap.”
Kitty wiggles her eyebrows. “So you had fun?”
“Oh, totally,” he says, voice dripping with sarcasm. “It’s always a good time when someone looks at you like you’re the last donut in a box… but not in a good way. More like, ‘why is this still here?’”
She snorts. “Yeah, that sounds about right.”
He leans forward, his grin softening just a little. “But… she didn’t actually kick me out until the end, so I must be doing something right.”
Kitty’s eyes narrow with amusement. “You’re playing a dangerous game, Min-ho.”
He shrugs. “What can I say? I like danger. Especially when it comes with eye-rolls, insults, and really good noodles.”
Kitty beams. “You two are so in love it’s disgusting.”
Min-ho points a finger at her. “Say that louder, and she will stab someone. Possibly you.”
She laughs and grabs her cereal again, clearly pleased with herself. “Worth it.”
Meanwhile, upstairs, you sneeze because even your sinuses can feel that someone is talking about you.
Just as Kitty and Min-ho are still grinning like two conspirators in the middle of a top-secret gossip mission, they hear footsteps thudding down the stairs. There’s a dramatic pause one only Kitty recognizes as the telltale warning sign of your entrance.
A second later, you appear in the kitchen, hair slightly messy from sleep, wearing your oversized T-shirt that reads “Not Today, Satan,” which might as well be directed at Min-ho specifically.
You stop dead in your tracks when you see him sitting comfortably at the kitchen counter, spoon in one hand, casual smirk already locked and loaded.
Your shoulders slump instantly, and you let out a loud, theatrical groan.“Why are you here?” you asked, dragging the words out like it physically pains you to acknowledge his existence this early in the day. “Did the universe not punish me enough yesterday?”
Min-ho doesn’t even flinch. He just grins like he’s been waiting for this moment all morning. “Good morning to you too, sunshine. Sleep well? Dream about me?”
You glare at him like you’re calculating the exact angle at which to throw the nearest toaster. “I dreamt about pushing you off a cliff. Twice. You kept coming back like a raccoon with plot armor.”
Kitty bursts out laughing as she sips her juice. “I live for this.”
Min-ho leans forward on the counter, resting his chin on his palm. “Admit it. You missed me.”
You march to the fridge, yanking it open with more force than necessary. “I missed quiet. And air that didn’t smell like overpriced cologne and ego.”
He gasps dramatically. “My cologne is top-tier. That’s Versace you’re insulting.”
You grab a carton of juice, slam the door shut, and turn to face him. “Then Versace needs to be recalled.”
Kitty is full-on cackling now, barely holding it together. “I should charge tickets for this. This is better than morning cartoons.”
You point at her with narrowed eyes. “This is all your fault. You summoned him. Like a demon in designer.”
Min-ho raises his hand, looking mildly offended. “Hey, if I’m a demon, I’m at least a very charming one. Like Loki. Or Lucifer but, you know, hotter.”
You roll your eyes so hard you nearly pull something. “More like a gremlin who snuck into Gucci.”
Kitty practically falls off her stool laughing, while you grab a glass and pour yourself juice like you haven’t just launched a full-scale insult assault.
Min-ho watches you with a smirk. “You know, most people greet their guests with coffee and a smile. Maybe even a ‘good morning.’”
You sip your juice without looking at him. “I’m not most people. I’m your worst-case scenario with bedhead.”
He leans back, arms spread out like he owns the place. “And yet you still came downstairs. For me.”
You glance over your shoulder at him, deadpan. “I came downstairs to make sure you hadn’t stolen the furniture.”
Kitty claps once. “Round one: draw.”
You sigh deeply, already regretting being conscious today. “Can someone please tell me why he’s always here?”
Kitty shrugs. “Because he’s weirdly obsessed with you and refuses to admit it?”
Min-ho just raises his cup like a toast. “Guilty as charged.”
You shake your head and mutter, “I need coffee. Or a taser.”
Kitty, still perched on the stool like she’s watching an award-winning rom-com unfold before her eyes, finishes the last bite of her cereal and sets the bowl down with a satisfied clink. She looks between the two of you. your death glare aimed at Min-ho, and his cocky, undeterred grin in full force and smirks like the puppet master she clearly is.
“Well,” she says, standing up and stretching like this is all perfectly normal, “this has been super entertaining, but I actually have somewhere to be.”
Your head snaps toward her. “Oh hell no.”
Min-ho chimes in at the exact same time, matching your tone perfectly. “Absolutely not.”
Kitty blinks innocently, backing toward the hallway. “What? I told you about it last night.”
“No, no, no,” you say, stepping toward her like she’s a flight risk, pointing accusingly. “You do not get to bail on this chaos when you’re the one who summoned it like it’s some cursed group project.”
Min-ho crosses his arms. “Yeah, if you’re leaving, take her with you.”
You whip around, jaw dropping. “Excuse me? Take me with her?”
He shrugs, smug as ever. “You’re the one who keeps threatening to stab me with kitchen utensils. I value my life.”
You step closer, hands on your hips. “I live here, genius. You’re the one who keeps showing up like an unskippable ad.”
Kitty slowly starts edging toward the door, grabbing her bag off the hook with exaggerated stealth like she’s trying not to spook wild animals mid-argument.
Min-ho gestures toward you, grinning. “You hear that, Kitty? She basically just admitted she watches me like an ad. That’s obsession.”
You scoff. “More like annoyance. If I could install an ad blocker to get rid of your face, I would.”
Kitty’s halfway to the door now, walking backward in slow motion while the verbal tennis match continues.
Min-ho gasps. “My face? You mean the one you stared at for a solid five minutes yesterday while pretending to clean the counter that was already spotless?”
Your voice rises. “That was me imagining how nice it would be if your reflection suddenly vanished.”
“You’re literally obsessed with me,” he teases. “It’s okay. It’s cute.”
You jab a finger toward the door. “Leave. Before I throw you out like last week’s leftovers.”
“You’re bluffing,” he says, smirking. “You can’t resist me.”
Meanwhile, Kitty is already tiptoeing toward the exit, biting her lip to hold back laughter as she quietly turns the knob, slipping through the door like a ninja escaping enemy territory.
You and Min-ho are so locked in your signature “flirt-fight-to-the-death” routine, neither of you notices the very real escape happening.
“Why are you always here?” you groan.
“Because your sister keeps inviting me,” he shoots back. “She’s the good one.”
You narrow your eyes. “She’s a traitor.”
Finally, you glance over your shoulder to include her in the insult only to find the kitchen completely empty.
The front door? Slightly ajar.
You stare at the door for a beat, then turn slowly back to Min-ho. He raises an eyebrow.
You both say, at the same time: “She did it again.”
You sigh, rubbing your temples. “I’m gonna put a bell on her.”
Min-ho chuckles. “You’re stuck with me now.”
You glare at him. “Remind me to change the locks.”
He smirks. “You’d miss me.”
You mutter, “I’d miss the silence.”
Still, neither of you leave the kitchen. Not yet.
You let out a heavy sigh as you finally accept the fact that Kitty has once again Houdini’d her way out of the house, leaving you alone with the human embodiment of smug confidence, still lounging at your kitchen counter like he pays rent.
You turn your back to him with a dramatic flair, walking toward the fridge like it’s your safe zone. “Whatever,” you mutter. “If I ignore you hard enough, maybe you’ll vanish.”
You pull out a few ingredients, setting them down on the counter with purpose. Eggs. Cheese. Some vegetables. Bread. You’re about to whip up the kind of breakfast that fixes everything well, everything except Min-ho’s personality.
He watches with a tilt of his head, the grin forming already before you even touch the frying pan.“Ooooh,” he says in a sing-song voice, resting his elbows on the counter. “What’s this? Cooking again? For me? You really do love me.”
You don’t even glance his way. “No. I am cooking for myself because unlike you, I don’t believe in showing up uninvited and waiting for food to fall into my lap.”
He pouts dramatically. “Rude. After everything we’ve been through?”
You glance over your shoulder, arching an eyebrow. “We went through a two-minute argument and a passive-aggressive noodle delivery. Calm down, Romeo.”
He shrugs. “Still felt emotionally intense. I think we bonded.”
You whip around, holding a spatula like a weapon. “You and that spatula are about to bond.”
He snickers, completely unfazed, resting his chin in his hands like he’s watching his favorite drama unfold live. “Seriously, though. You sure I can’t have a bite? You’re using the good cheese.”
You huff, turning back to your pan and starting to sauté the vegetables with aggressive precision. “You can order takeout. Better yet, I have an idea you can just leave. Get up, walk out the door, and go back to your house. You know, where your kitchen and your food are. And most importantly where I am not.”
“But my food doesn’t taste like passive-aggressive love and thinly veiled hostility,” he says, grinning. “Yours does. It’s special.”
You turn the stove off and whirl around, arms crossed. “Min-ho. Seriously. Why are you like this?”
He leans back, that grin still plastered on his annoyingly perfect face. “Because you make it way too easy. Watching you try to pretend you don’t like me is my favorite sport.”
You roll your eyes, plate your food, and grab a fork. “Well, enjoy the show. But don’t get too comfortable this is a one-woman cooking show, and you’re not on the guest list.”
He raises his hands in mock surrender. “Fine, fine. I’ll just sit here and starve. No big deal. Just slowly wither away while you eat like a queen.”
You glance at him, deadpan. “Good. Maybe if you shrivel up enough, I can finally reclaim my kitchen without all this dramatic flair.”
You dig into your breakfast, ignoring his pout, but the corners of your mouth betray you with a twitch of amusement. You hate to admit it, but as annoying as he is… it’s kind of nice having him here.
Even if you do want to slap that smirk off his face. With a frying pan. Lovingly.
You sit down at the kitchen table, finally ready to enjoy the masterpiece you’ve crafted fluffy scrambled eggs, perfectly golden toast, sautéed vegetables, and just the right amount of melted cheese. A breakfast worth writing poems about. You take one glorious bite, closing your eyes in satisfaction.
The sound of an exaggerated sigh drifts from the counter.
There’s Min-ho, still sitting exactly where he was five minutes ago, dramatically slumped over like an underfed Victorian orphan, head resting on his folded arms, eyes half-lidded and staring at your plate like it’s the last meal on Earth.
You chew slowly and raise an eyebrow. “Are you seriously trying to guilt-trip me into feeding you right now?”
He lifts his head just enough to pout. “No. This is just how I sit when I’m dying from neglect.”
You roll your eyes. “Min-ho, there’s multiple restaurants, Call one of them and have food delivered. Or here’s an idea: go home.”
“But then I wouldn’t get to watch you chew with such intensity. It’s fascinating.”
“Min-ho,” you say with a warning tone.
He sits up straighter, hands folded in front of him like he’s about to negotiate a hostage situation. “Look, I’m just saying, maybe sharing a tiny bit of your breakfast wouldn’t hurt. Think of it as… charity work. Feeding the needy. Good karma.”
You groan, setting your fork down with dramatic flair. “You are so annoying.”
He smiles like he’s just won the lottery. “And yet you haven’t kicked me out.”
“Because I’m trying to be mature.”
“Sure. Is that before or after you called me a walking ad and compared me to a raccoon?”
You glare at him for a solid three seconds. Then, with a heavy, soul-weary sigh, you pick up your plate, walk over to the counter where he’s sitting, and plop it down in front of him hard enough to make the fork rattle.
He blinks. “Wait… are you—?”
“One bite.” You hold up a single finger. “One. Bite. And if you say anything annoying while you’re chewing, I will snatch it back like a disappointed mother.”
He looks down at the plate like you just handed him the crown jewels. “I knew you loved me.”
You immediately grab the fork off the plate and wave it threateningly. “I will stab you and not even feel bad.”
He holds up his hands in surrender but is already grinning as he picks up the fork. “Fine, fine. I’ll eat quietly. For once.”
You step back and cross your arms, watching as he takes a bite. He chews slowly, eyes closing like he’s just discovered inner peace.
“Oh my god,” he says around the food. “This is actually good.”
You frown. “Don’t sound so shocked.”
“No, I mean like… really good. Like I’d marry this breakfast good.”
You roll your eyes. “Too bad the breakfast wouldn’t say yes.”
He takes another bite and grins at you, mouth full. “Might say yes before you do.”
You grab a dishtowel and toss it at him.
“Shut up and eat your bite before I change my mind.”
He laughs, catching the towel and continuing to eat like he’s just won a five-star meal. And even though you grumble and glare, you don’t take the plate back.
It’s later in the day when you finally manage to escape the circus of your own kitchen and the even bigger circus named Min-ho. The air outside is cooler than expected, with just enough breeze to keep your hair out of your face as you walk across the school courtyard, trying to recover the last few brain cells you lost during Min-ho’s ongoing campaign of sarcasm and smirks.
You’re halfway across the paved path when it happens just as you’re rounding the corner near the student garden, someone comes walking from the opposite direction at the exact same time. You bump shoulders not hard, but enough to make you take a surprised step back.
“ I’m so sorry!” you say quickly.
The boy turns to you with wide eyes, then gives you a small, polite smile. He’s tall, with sharp cheekbones, dark hair falling in soft layers over his forehead, and this gentle, kind-of-distracted energy that makes him look like he’s perpetually halfway through writing poetry in his head. His uniform is neat, crisp, but his collar is just barely uneven, like he’s already tired of impressing people.
“It’s okay,” He smiles, his tone soft and friendly. “I wasn’t watching where I was going.”
There’s a moment just a flicker where your eyes meet, and something clicks. You both hold each other’s gaze for a beat too long to be considered polite. Then he smiles bigger, the kind that curls at the edges and makes your stomach do something annoyingly fluttery.
You smile back, just a little, before brushing a strand of hair behind your ear and nodding. “Well, welcome to the chaos.”
“I’ll take that as a warning,” he says with a low laugh. “I’m Ha-Joon, by the way.”
“Ha-Joon,” you repeat thoughtfully, then give him your name with a half-smirk. “Resident chaos coordinator.”
He chuckles, and you both start walking in the same direction toward the courtyard where your sister, and the rest of the group are hanging out.
Min-ho is already at the courtyard table, standing with his arms folded like he’s lost in deep, completely-not-suspicious thought. He glances around and then, as casually as he can manage (which is not casual at all), asks Kitty, “Hey… have you seen your sister?”
Kitty, sitting on the edge of the bench, raises her eyebrows slowly. “Why?”
Min-ho shrugs, playing it cool. “She’s just… always here. Figured she’d still be yelling at clouds or something.”
Yuri, sitting next to Kitty, immediately smirks. “So you are looking for her.”
“I’m not looking for her,” Min-ho replies too quickly. “I was just asking. Out of—curiosity. Like… scientifically.”
“Scientifically?” Dae repeats, snorting.
Min-ho waves a hand. “You know what I mean. She’s like… aggressively loud. If she’s not in the room, the room feels weirdly peaceful and, you know, unnatural.”
Kitty tilts her head at him, smirking. “So… you miss her?”
Min-ho scoffs. “As if. I just figured she’d be around. She’s like an unpaid intern in this friend group. Never leaves.”
Yuri opens her mouth to retort when, as if summoned by fate, you and Ha-Joon come strolling into view, side by side, mid-conversation. You’re laughing lightly at something he just said, and Ha-Joon is smiling down at you, clearly enjoying himself. You look… relaxed. Like you’re actually having a decent time for once.
The whole group goes silent.
Min-ho turns around just in time to see you pass by, your shoulder briefly brushing Ha-Joon’s as he politely steps to the side for someone. You don’t even see Min-ho standing there. You’re too focused on the boy with the soft voice and quiet charm walking next to you.
Yuri lets out a low whistle, eyebrows raised.“Well, well,” she says, nudging Kitty. “Looks like your sister just captured the newbie’s attention.”
Kitty hums with faux innocence. “Huh. And here I thought she couldn’t stand anyone new.”
Yuri leans forward with a grin. “Guess you might be getting a brother-in-law, Kitty. And not the one we all expected.”
Kitty bursts into laughter. “Oh my god, Min-ho, she’s replacing you!”
Min-ho watches you disappear into the hallway with Ha-Joon, his jaw tight, brow furrowed.“I literally don’t care,” he mutters.
“Sure,” Dae says, biting back a smile. “That’s why your face just did that weird twitch thing.”
Min-ho rolls his eyes so hard he nearly sees another dimension. “Whatever. Let her flirt with Mr. Seoul Poetry Club. Not my business.”
But his eyes linger a second too long on the spot where you disappeared. His smirk is gone.
And Kitty just grins wider.
She knew this was about to get fun.
It’s only a few days later, but the moment arrives faster than you expect. You’re walking into the courtyard with Ha-Joon again this time on purpose, and not due to fate or accidental shoulder collisions. The two of you had a group project in literature, but he stuck around afterward to talk about books and his adjustment to the school… and, well, somehow ended up walking next to you again, laughing softly at your commentary on why all classic male characters are either emotionally unavailable or suspiciously allergic to therapy.
You spot Kitty and the others lounging under the shade of a large tree, textbooks open but mostly ignored. You exhale quietly through your nose because you already know this is going to be an event.
“Brace yourself,” you mutter to Ha-Joon. “I’m about to throw you to the wolves.”
He grins. “I like wolves.”
You step into the circle of friends, and as soon as Kitty sees you, her eyes light up like Christmas morning.
“Ohhh look who decided to bring her emotional support transfer student.”
You give her a pointed look. “Kitty. This is Ha-Joon. He’s new. Be nice.”
Ha-Joon offers a polite smile and bows slightly. “Nice to meet you all.”
Yuri gives him a little wave. “You’re even cuter up close. Noted.”
Ha-Joon laughs awkwardly, but graciously. “Thank you, I think?”
Dae raises a brow, nodding his approval. “Cool name. You play any sports?”
“Soccer, mostly,” Ha-Joon replies. “But I haven’t joined a team yet.”
Min-ho who you thought wasn’t paying attention suddenly stands up from where he was leaning against the bench, arms crossed, expression unreadable. He gives Ha-Joon a once-over, his eyes trailing from his clean-cut uniform to the way he stands close to you without hesitation. Then he forces a smile. A very fake one.
“Hey. Nice to meet you, uh…” he pauses, squinting with exaggerated effort. “Hae-jin, was it?”
You shoot him a glare. “It’s Ha-Joon.”
Ha-Joon, still smiling politely, says, “It’s okay. Happens all the time.”
Min-ho waves a hand dismissively. “Yeah, names are hard. So, Hae-jin how you liking it here so far?”
“It’s Ha-Joon,” you hiss again under your breath.
Ha-Joon, ever calm, nods. “It’s been good so far. People are… interesting.”
Min-ho raises a brow. “Interesting, huh? So what do you think of our school’s elite personalities? Like, say… my charming self?”
“I haven’t met many people like you yet,” Ha-Joon says, smiling diplomatically.
Min-ho grins, sharp and smug. “Yeah, I’m kind of unforgettable.”
You roll your eyes. “More like hard to ignore. Like a fire alarm.”
Ha-Joon lets out a small laugh at that. “He does have that… presence.”
“See?” Min-ho gestures to Ha-Joon. “Even Hae-jin agrees.”
“Ha-Joon.” you and Ha-Joon say in unison this time.
Min-ho shrugs dramatically. “Sure. That.”
Yuri leans over to Kitty, whispering way too loudly, “He’s so jealous right now it’s physically painful.”
Kitty whispers back, “Do you think he’s going to break out in hives?”
Min-ho turns to them. “I can hear you, you know.”
Yuri beams. “Oh, good. Just wanted to make sure your ears still worked.”
You sigh and turn to Ha-Joon. “Come on. Let me show you the one bench that isn’t cursed by sarcasm.”
As you lead him away, you can feel Min-ho’s eyes following the two of you. You don’t look back but if you did, you’d see his jaw clenched and his brow twitching ever so slightly. The others continue to chat behind you, but Min-ho’s gaze stays locked on the spot where you and Ha-Joon now sit, side by side, talking quietly again.
Dae leans toward him with a smug look. “So… Hae-jin, huh?”
Min-ho doesn’t respond. He just mutters under his breath, “Whatever. He won’t last.”
It’s late afternoon when everyone ends up back at your house, sprawled across the living room like they own the place. The windows are open, the scent of popcorn lingers in the air, and someone’s half-heartedly scrolling through Netflix options while pretending to care about what everyone wants to watch.
Min-ho, who’s claimed his usual spot at the end of the couch (legs stretched out like he pays rent), seems unusually distracted. Every few minutes, he glances at the door. Then at the hallway. Then back at the door.
Kitty notices. Of course she does. She’s been watching him like a hawk since they walked in, arms crossed and smirk firmly locked in place.
Min-ho checks his phone again. The screen lights up, then dims. He sighs way too dramatically and casually tosses it on the couch next to him.
“Where is she?” he asks, trying to sound uninterested, like it’s just a passing question. “Not that I care. Just she’s usually here. Being loud. Making terrible snacks.”
Dae looks up from his phone. “She said she might be late.”
Yuri lifts a brow. “Why? Do you need her for something?”
Min-ho shrugs. “No. Just curious. You know, for… spatial awareness.”
Kitty smirks, not even trying to hide it anymore. She flops onto the beanbag across from him and rests her chin in her hand. “She’s with Ha-Joon,” she says lightly, like she’s discussing the weather.
Min-ho freezes for exactly half a second. Then leans back casually. Too casually. “Oh.” He clears his throat. “Right. The new guy. Hae-j—Ha… whatever.”
“Ha-Joon,” Kitty corrects sweetly, dragging out the syllables. “They’ve been hanging out a lot lately.”
Yuri hums thoughtfully. “He walked her to class earlier. Opened the door for her, too. So polite.”
“He smiles at her like she hung the moon,” Kitty adds, picking at her nails.
Min-ho’s jaw tightens just slightly. “Great. Maybe he can teach her how to walk into a room without announcing it like a parade float.”
Dae smirks. “Dude, your jealousy is showing.”
Min-ho snorts. “Jealousy? Please. I’ve never been jealous a day in my life.”
Kitty leans forward, grinning like she’s waiting for a punchline. “You’ve looked at the door seven times in the last five minutes.”
“You have,” everyone says in unison.
Min-ho narrows his eyes at them. “Okay, maybe I’m just checking to make sure she hasn’t brought home another stray animal or something.”
“She is hanging out with a very cute one,” Yuri says under her breath, loud enough for him to hear.
Min-ho grabs a pillow and launches it at her.
Kitty giggles. “Aww, you miss her.”
He rolls his eyes so hard he practically pulls something. “Miss her? I just need her here so I can remind her how bad her taste in music is.”
Yuri shrugs. “Well, she’s probably busy laughing at Ha-Joon’s jokes and not thinking about you.”
For a second, Min-ho doesn’t say anything. Then, with as much false bravado as he can muster, he mutters, “Fine. Whatever. I hope they have a great time bonding over… poetry and soft lighting.”
Kitty laughs so hard she nearly falls off the beanbag.
Min-ho throws another pillow, but it lands short.
Then he glances at the door again.
But Kitty definitely sees.
The kind of quiet that feels rare, even unnatural, in a place like the school courtyard. Most students are in class, the hallways echo with faint chatter and the occasional squeak of sneakers on tile, but here just behind the art building it’s still. Peaceful. You weren’t planning to be here. Neither was Ha-Joon.
But sometimes conversations turn into walks, and walks turn into quiet corners, and quiet corners make things feel a little less complicated than they really are.
You and Ha-Joon are sitting close on the low brick wall, sunlight dripping through the trees in slanted lines across the ground. He says something soft that makes you laugh, eyes catching yours in that careful, gentle way he always does. There’s no big moment, no dramatic music just a pause, and then the way his gaze flickers down to your lips before returning to your eyes like he’s asking permission.
The kiss is warm. Uncomplicated. Maybe it shouldn’t be, but it is. His hand lingers at your jaw, steady, respectful, and you let yourself fall into it for a second, just one second, where nothing else exists but the silence and the soft brush of his lips against yours.
Footsteps. Fast. Then a sharp inhale.
You both break apart instantly, your heart thudding like a drum against your ribs. You whip your head toward the sound and freeze.
Min-ho is standing a few steps away, his eyes locked on you like someone just hit him in the chest. His expression is blank too blank. The kind of blank that means something is boiling underneath, barely held together.
No one speaks. For a full, breathless second, the world stops.
Then Min-ho huffs a dry, humorless laugh, and his head drops as he runs a hand through his hair.“Wow,” he mutters. “Guess I shouldn’t be surprised.”
You blink, still stunned, heart in your throat. “Min-ho—”
He holds up a hand. “Don’t. It’s fine.”
It’s not fine. Not by a mile.
Ha-Joon clears his throat awkwardly and stands up, his voice quiet but firm. “I didn’t mean to—”
“To what?” Min-ho snaps, his voice sharp now, not yelling but worse. Controlled. Cutting. “Move in on the first girl who talked to you? Or just the one who already had someone tripping over himself pretending he didn’t care?”
You stand too, stepping in front of Ha-Joon instinctively. “He didn’t do anything wrong.”
Min-ho laughs again, but it’s colder this time. “Sure. Of course not. Why would I think that? It’s not like I’ve been walking around like an idiot, checking doors, waiting for someone who clearly found something better.”
“Don’t twist this,” you say quietly, but your voice shakes. “You never said anything.”
“I didn’t have to,” he fires back. “You knew. You always knew.”
The words hang in the air like smoke thick and suffocating.
You want to say something. To explain. To ask him why he waited. Why he played pretend like you were both just teasing each other for fun, like none of it meant anything. But all of it did mean something. And now, you’re not sure if it matters anymore.
Min-ho takes a step back, his jaw clenched, eyes glossy in a way that makes your chest ache.
“Whatever,” he says finally. “Congrats on the upgrade.”
And with that, he turns on his heel and walks away—fast, like if he doesn’t leave now, he won’t be able to leave at all.
You just stand there, in the wreckage of the moment, tasting the guilt like smoke on your tongue.
And for the first time since Min-ho entered your life, it feels like he might really be gone.
Min-ho doesn’t know where he’s going.
He just keeps walking fast, head down, hands jammed in his jacket pockets like he’s trying to hold himself together from the outside in. The gravel crunches under his feet, the trees blur past, and his chest feels like it’s been cracked open and left out in the cold. He wipes at his face once, angrily, like he can erase the sting behind his eyes if he’s just fast enough, like maybe no one will see
“Whoa, whoa slow down, where’s the fire?” Kitty steps right into his path just as he rounds the corner behind the music wing, nearly colliding with her. Yuri and Dae are behind her, carrying iced coffees and a stack of books, but all of them stop short the second they see his face.
Min-ho pulls back immediately, trying to duck away, brushing past Kitty like he didn’t even notice her. “Move.”
“Min-ho,” Kitty says sharply, reaching out to grab his sleeve. “What happened?”
“I said move,” he snaps, but his voice breaks halfway through the word.
Kitty lets go of his arm slowly, her brows knitting together. “Are you crying?”
“No,” he lies. Instantly. Without hesitation. “It’s allergies. God, do you think the world revolves around your sister’s drama or something?”
Yuri steps forward now, arms folded, squinting at him. “Min-ho. Your face is blotchy. And you don’t even have allergies.”
“I do now,” he bites out, trying to keep moving, but Dae blocks his way without saying a word.
There’s a long pause. Min-ho stares at the sky like it’ll suck him up if he wills it hard enough. The silence stretches, heavy, and then he lets out a harsh, bitter breath and finally says it quiet, almost like he regrets it the second it leaves his mouth:
Min-ho doesn’t look at her. Doesn’t look at anyone. Just says it flatly, like a punch to the stomach he’s trying to walk off:
“Your sister. And Ha-Joon. Kissing.”
There’s a beat of stunned silence. Yuri’s eyes go wide. Dae winces like he just watched someone fall off a bike in slow motion.
Kitty’s mouth opens, but she doesn’t know what to say at first. Not right away. She watches him for a second longer, then finally murmurs, “I… didn’t know it was that serious for you.”
“It wasn’t,” he lies again, but his voice is quieter now, thinner. “I mean she’s loud. She’s messy. She always ruins the microwave. It wasn’t serious. It wasn’t anything.”
Dae crosses his arms, nodding slowly. “Right. That’s why you’ve been acting like a lost puppy every time she’s not in the room.”
Min-ho laughs bitterly. “I was just bored.”
“Dude, you almost fought a vending machine because she didn’t text you back for two hours,” Yuri says, deadpan.
Kitty steps closer. “Min-ho… did you ever tell her?”
He shakes his head, his eyes flickering down to the ground like it might swallow him whole. “No. Because if I did, and she didn’t feel the same, then I’d lose the only thing I had. The banter. The stupid back-and-forth. The game. I thought the game was enough.”
Kitty’s expression softens. “And now?”
“Now it’s over,” he whispers, and his voice cracks again, raw and honest in a way none of them have heard from him before.
“She looked happy,” he adds after a moment, more to himself than anyone else. “With him. Like she didn’t have to pretend she didn’t care.”
Yuri steps forward, her voice surprisingly gentle. “That doesn’t mean she doesn’t care about you.”
Min-ho finally looks up, eyes glassy, jaw tight. “Yeah, well… she’s not the one crying behind a building, is she?”
No one has an answer for that. The silence that follows is louder than anything.
Kitty puts a hand on his shoulder. “You don’t have to act like it doesn’t hurt.”
“I know,” Min-ho says. Then, after a pause: “But I still will.”
And with that, he brushes past them again this time slower, not running, but not staying either. Just walking.
The sun has set completely by the time you make it home, and the house is wrapped in a heavy kind of quiet. The kind that presses on your chest the second you step inside, like the walls already know you’re carrying something too big to hold alone.
You close the door softly behind you and drop your bag by the entrance. You barely make it two steps in before Kitty’s voice rings out from the living room.
You pause. The way she says it it’s not casual. Not teasing. It’s soft, but sharp. A thread of something heavier laced underneath.
You step into the room and see her sitting cross-legged on the couch, Yuri beside her, both of them looking at you like they’ve been waiting.
You exhale, already bracing yourself. “If this is about—”
“You kissed Ha-Joon,” Kitty interrupts, not cruel, not angry just honest. “And Min-ho saw.”
You flinch, even though you expected it. You drop onto the couch opposite her, dragging your fingers through your hair, heart pounding with guilt. “I know.”
Kitty doesn’t waste time. “You broke his heart.”
You press your lips together, eyes burning. “I know that too.”
“Do you even care?” she asks, more softly this time. Less judgment, more confusion.
You look up, and your voice cracks when it finally comes out. “Of course I care. Do you think this didn’t destroy me too?”
Kitty leans forward, her expression shifting. “So why—”
“Because I was scared!” you snap, louder than you meant to. “Because it’s easier to pretend I don’t care than admit I’ve been in love with someone who doesn’t take anything seriously. Because I thought if I kept pretending he annoyed me, I’d stop feeling everything I felt every time he looked at me like I was the only person in the room.”
Yuri’s eyes widen slightly. Kitty goes still.
Your voice drops to a whisper. “Think about me too, Kitty. I didn’t just break his heart I broke mine right along with it.”
For a second, it’s quiet. Then Kitty tilts her head and says carefully, “So you do love him?”
Your breath hitches, but you nod. “I’ve been in love with him ever since the day we crossed paths with him at the airport. Since the first time he made fun of my music taste. Since he stole my fries and tried to act like it wasn’t a big deal. Since he offered me his hoodie when he thought I was asleep on the couch.”
Yuri’s voice is gentle. “Then why did you kiss Ha-Joon?”
You drop your face into your hands. “Because I’m an idiot.”
“No argument there,” Kitty mutters, but there’s a tiny smile pulling at the corner of her mouth. Then she sits up straighter. “Good thing you have me.”
You lift your head. “What?”
“I’m going to help you get him back,” she says, like it’s obvious. “You’re a mess. He’s a mess. And I can’t live in this drama unless there’s a happy ending.”
You shake your head. “Kitty… he doesn’t even want to see me.”
She waves that off. “Yeah, he thinks that. But trust me. he does. He’s just too hurt and stubborn to admit it.”
Yuri nods. “He literally looked like someone kicked his soul.”
Kitty claps her hands together. “So here’s the deal. We’re making a plan. I’ll gather the group. We’re going full rom-com strategy mode.”
You blink. “Wait what kind of plan? What are you even talking about?”
Kitty smirks. “Leave it to me. I’ll tell you once it’s ready.”
You narrow your eyes. “That sounds ominous.”
“Trust the process,” Kitty says, already pulling out her phone and texting like she’s assembling the Avengers. “Step one: Operation ‘Win Min-ho Back’ begins tomorrow.”
And even though your heart still aches, even though your chest still feels too tight, you feel the smallest flicker of hope settle beneath your ribs.
Maybe just maybe you didn’t lose everything yet.
The next morning, Kitty is a girl on a mission.
She’s never been one to shy away from drama especially when it’s personal and romantic and has all the ingredients of her favorite K-drama tropes so the second she finishes texting you a cryptic “Trust me” with three heart emojis, she’s already heading to the café courtyard where your usual group meets before school.
Yuri’s already there, sipping on a matcha latte with her sunglasses perched on her head like she’s living in a Vogue editorial. Q is sitting across from her, headphones half-on, scrolling through a playlist. Dae joins moments later, yawning into his croissant.
Then Kitty arrives like a mini hurricane, tossing her bag down and clapping her hands with the energy of someone about to deliver a PowerPoint presentation titled How To Save a Slow-Burn Love Story From Ruin.
“Okay,” she says, “everyone listen up.”
Yuri glances up. “This isn’t about math homework, is it?”
“No,” Kitty says, pulling out her phone. “This is about something way more important. Love.”
Q groans. “Oh no. Who are we saving this time?”
“My sister and Min-ho,” Kitty says dramatically. “They’re in love. Completely, hopelessly, stupidly in love. And they’re also both emotionally constipated. It’s a crisis.”
Dae raises his eyebrows. “Wait, I thought she was into that new guy what’s his name? Han-Jin?”
“Ha-Joon,” Kitty corrects, “and yeah, that happened. Unfortunately. But it wasn’t real. It was a mistake. She kissed him because she was panicking and scared and her words, not mine an idiot.”
Q winces. “Oof. That explains why he looked like he wanted to set fire to the vending machine yesterday.”
“Exactly,” Kitty says. “Which is why we’re going to fix it.”
Dae blinks. “We’re what now?”
“We’re going to help them get back together,” she says, as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world. “Because if we don’t, they’re going to spend the rest of the semester glaring at each other from opposite ends of the hallway, pretending they don’t care, and ruining everyone else’s vibe.”
Yuri leans forward. “And what’s the plan? Because I am so here for the drama.”
Kitty pulls out a notepad and starts scribbling. “Step one: Min-ho needs to hear the truth. All of it. That she loves him, that the kiss meant nothing, and that she’s been in love with him since basically day one.”
“Are we letting her do the talking?” Q asks cautiously.
“Yes, obviously,” Kitty says. “But we’re going to make sure he’s in the right place to listen. We soften him up. Get him to stop pretending he doesn’t care.”
Dae’s eyes light up. “So we’re emotionally manipulating him for a good cause?”
“Exactly,” Kitty grins. “We’re going to remind him why he fell for her in the first place. All the little things her weird snack combos, how she always corrects his grammar, how she pretends not to care when he calls her cute in Korean under his breath.”
“Wait, he does that?” Yuri asks, eyes wide.
“Constantly,” Kitty says. “He’s so in love it’s embarrassing.”
The group laughs, but there’s a warmth to it now. A buzz of excitement. A challenge. The energy shifts this isn’t just about fixing something broken. It’s about protecting something real.
“So what do we do first?” Dae asks.
Kitty leans back, smiling like a mastermind. “First, we get Min-ho to the rooftop during lunch. I’ll handle that. Then we set the mood music, snacks, the whole K-drama confession scene setup.”
Kitty’s eyes gleam. “Then we send in the leading lady.”
They all nod, and just like that, the plan is in motion.
And somewhere, without knowing it yet, Min-ho’s life is about to change again.
The group is now fully invested.
They’ve pushed their drinks aside, huddling closer around the table as if they’re planning a heist instead of a love confession. Kitty flips to a new page in her notepad and underlines “The Rooftop Confession” with a dramatic flourish.
That’s when Yuri leans forward, smirking behind her coffee cup. “So… I checked the forecast.”
Everyone turns to her. Q raises an eyebrow. “Are we about to plan around the weather now?”
Yuri grins. “I saw that tomorrow afternoon it’s going to rain.”
Kitty gasps, eyes sparkling. “Rain?! Like, actual cinematic rain?”
“Yep. Around 3 p.m.,” Yuri confirms. “Full-on grey skies, the whole moody aesthetic. It’s like the universe wants this moment to happen.”
Dae leans back, arms crossed, already picturing it. “Okay but… imagine this: they’re arguing, emotions are high, it’s pouring, neither of them brought an umbrella—”
“And she’s about to walk away,” Kitty jumps in, “but he grabs her wrist lightly, not aggressively turns her around, says something like, ‘I never stopped loving you,’ and then bam rain kiss.”
Q fans himself with a napkin. “This is straight out of a drama.”
“It is a drama,” Yuri says. “We’re just writing the last few episodes.”
Dae tilts his head thoughtfully. “Plus, if they really do love each other, they won’t care if they get sick. They’ll just stand there, soaked and stupidly in love, and it’ll be worth every sneeze.”
Kitty grins. “Exactly! If someone’s willing to kiss you in the rain, consequences be damned, that’s real. That’s confession-core. That’s end-credits material.”
Yuri chuckles. “And if it doesn’t work, at least they’ll have pneumonia together.”
But underneath the jokes, there’s something more genuine. A shared feeling. Hope.
They all know Min-ho and your story has never been simple. It’s been full of banter and stubbornness and the kind of slow-burning tension that leaves everyone else screaming just kiss already! But now there’s a chance. One perfectly timed, rain-drenched, heart-on-sleeve chance to make it right.
Kitty closes her notebook and looks around at her friends. “Okay. It’s happening tomorrow. After school. We get Min-ho to the rooftop. I’ll handle my sister. You guys handle the rest.”
“Backup umbrella,” Yuri says, “just in case they want to be cute and share it after.”
Kitty beams. “We are so good at this.”
They clink drinks like they’ve just sealed a sacred pact, the mission officially in motion.
Tomorrow, rain or shine, hearts are going to be on the line.
The sky is overcast, thick clouds rolling in like stage curtains preparing for a final act. There’s a stillness in the air a charged silence that makes the hairs on your arms rise. It’s as if the world knows something is about to happen.
Kitty checks her phone, glancing at the time and then the sky. “Five minutes till showtime,” she mutters, tightening the hood of her rain jacket as she, Yuri, Q, and Dae stand huddled under the awning outside the school building.
“Min-ho’s on the way,” Dae says, lowering his phone after a quick text. “Told him we needed help moving something off the rooftop. Classic distraction.”
“Perfect,” Kitty grins, glancing over at the rooftop entrance. “And my sister?”
Yuri smiles slyly. “Already up there. Said she needed air. She’s got no idea Min-ho’s coming. Just told her to wait and trust me.”
“And the rain?” Q asks, checking the weather app.
Right on cue, a raindrop lands on the back of Kitty’s hand.
Moments later, the soft pattering turns into a gentle downpour, misting the courtyard, soaking the edges of the rooftop, the sky now a melancholic gray that looks like something out of a K-drama set.
You’re leaning against the railing, your thoughts spiraling. You didn’t ask questions when Yuri told you to come up here. Maybe you hoped the air would clear your head. Maybe you were just too tired to keep avoiding the places that reminded you of him.
But now you’re soaked, the rain pressing your hoodie to your skin, and you sigh, about to head back inside when the rooftop door swings open with a creak.
Min-ho steps onto the rooftop, squinting through the rain, his dark hair already damp, his jacket clinging to his frame.
He stops when he sees you. You both freeze.
“What are you doing here?” you ask, more breath than voice.
“I… Q said he needed help with something,” he mutters, then blinks. “Wait, why are you—”
You both trail off. You both know now. They set this up.
He lets out a soft, humorless laugh. “Of course they did.”
You swallow hard. “Min-ho—”
“No,” he says, voice quiet but firm. “Don’t. Not unless you’re actually going to say what you mean this time.”
You look at him really look at him. He’s standing there, drenched and hurting, but still here. Still showing up. Still waiting.
“I messed up,” you whisper. “I kissed Ha-Joon because I thought I had to move on. Because it felt easier than waiting for someone who never said how he felt. But I never stopped thinking about you.” You take a shaky breath. “I love you, Min-ho. I have for a long time.”
He stares at you, water dripping from his hair, his expression unreadable for a beat too long.
And then his voice cracks. “You have the worst timing.”
“I was ready to say it, you know. That day. Before I saw you with him.” He laughs again, bitter. “I practiced it. In the mirror. Twice.”
You take a step forward. “Then say it now.”
Min-ho looks at you like you’ve just asked him to breathe underwater terrified, hesitant, desperate. Then his voice softens.
The words settle in the space between you like thunder loud, shattering, undeniable.
And then, without thinking, without a second of hesitation, you close the distance and crash into him.
The kiss is different than before this one is soaked and shivering and chaotic and true. His hands cup your face, your arms wrap around his shoulders, and the world disappears into rain and heartbeats.
Down below, Kitty peeks up from the stairwell, eyes wide as she watches the silhouettes through the fogged glass of the rooftop door.
“Oh my god,” she whispers. “They’re kissing.”
Yuri appears behind her. “Told you the rain would work.”
Dae and Q high-five quietly.
Kitty pulls out her phone and snaps a blurry, cinematic shot of the two of you in the rain.
“Operation: Rooftop Confession success,” she grins, stuffing the phone back in her pocket.
“Okay, now let’s leave before they see us spying,” Yuri whispers, tugging Kitty’s arm.
And as the friends disappear down the stairs, the rain continues to fall.
But neither of you notice it anymore. Not the cold, not the soaked clothes, not the sky darkening above.
All you feel is the warmth of each other the kind of warmth you’d waited way too long to admit you needed.
And this time, you’re not letting go.
The next afternoon, the romantic magic of the rooftop rain kiss has officially backfired.
And it’s entirely your own fault.
You’re both curled up on opposite ends of the couch in your living room, wrapped in mismatched blankets, surrounded by tissues, cough drops, and half-drunk mugs of lukewarm ginger tea. You’re stuffy, congested, and your voice sounds like you’ve swallowed a frog. Min-ho looks equally miserable his nose is red, his eyes glassy, and he’s wearing your second favorite hoodie because apparently all his were in the laundry and he was too cold to care.
And in the middle of the chaos, you’re sharing a bowl of soup.
You hold the spoon out dramatically. “Open your mouth, baby.”
Min-ho stares at you, deadpan. “Don’t call me baby when you’re handing me boiled water and sadness.”
You glare at him and thrust the spoon closer. “It’s miso soup, and I slaved over the stove for ten minutes.”
“You poured hot water into a packet,” he says, eyeing the spoon suspiciously. “I literally saw you.”
“Ten. Grueling. Minutes,” you say. “Now eat it, or I’ll throw it on you and call it a skincare treatment.”
He groans but leans forward obediently, letting you feed him like an overgrown toddler. “Ugh. Okay, that’s actually not terrible.”
You smile smugly. “Told you. I cook with love.”
“And snot,” he adds, reaching for the bowl. “My turn.”
He takes the spoon and scoops up another bite, then holds it out to you with a completely ridiculous grin. “Say ‘ah.’”
“You’re literally using the same spoon we just shared,” you mutter, but open your mouth anyway.
“Too late for hygiene now,” he shrugs. “We’re both already dying. Might as well die romantically.”
You take the bite and immediately cough from laughing. “This is so unsanitary.”
“Please,” he smirks. “You kissed me with a fever yesterday. This is just the sequel.”
You both burst into a fit of laughter that quickly turns into matching coughing fits. You collapse back onto the couch, wheezing, while Min-ho clutches his side dramatically like he’s just been mortally wounded.
“This is what we get,” you mumble between coughs. “Rain kisses and reckless affection.”
Min-ho sniffles, then leans over and gently bumps his forehead against yours. “No regrets.”
“Same,” you whisper, half-smiling even though your nose is stuffy and your head is pounding.
He shifts so you’re under the same blanket now, his arm lazily slung around your shoulder as you pass the soup bowl back and forth, still using the same spoon like the absolute idiots you are.
Kitty walks in halfway through, pauses, and stares at the scene: you two pale and half-conscious, wrapped in blankets like dumplings, sharing one bowl and one spoon like it’s the last food on earth.
She sighs loudly. “You both deserve this cold.”
Min-ho weakly raises a hand. “Worth it.”
You grin sleepily. “Still the best kiss of my life.”
Kitty groans and walks out again. “I’m buying Lysol in bulk.”
And as the door closes behind her, you and Min-ho settle deeper into the couch, cuddled close, passing spoonfuls of soup like love-struck fools sick, stupid, and completely happy.
It’s the third day of your shared plague, and somehow, neither you nor Min-ho have recovered. If anything, your symptoms have mutated into something more dramatic and highly performative.
The gang are over originally just to “check in,” maybe drop off some snacks and bounce but that was two hours ago. Now they’re trapped in what can only be described as a fever dream of romance and melodrama.
You and Min-ho are curled up like Victorian patients who’ve just coughed blood into lace handkerchiefs.
Kitty sits on the armchair, arms crossed, watching the scene unfold with growing disbelief. Yuri is sprawled out on the floor with a bag of chips, face twisted in secondhand embarrassment. Q has his hoodie pulled halfway over his head like it’ll shield him from the sheer cringe, and Dae is flipping through a magazine upside down, just for something to look at that isn’t the two of you.
Min-ho coughs delicately into a tissue and dramatically lays back onto the couch with a groan. “My lungs… they are betraying me.”
“Oh my god,” Yuri mutters.
You reach out and clasp his hand like a lover in a historical war drama. “Stay with me, Min-ho. Don’t go toward the light.”
“I would never,” he whispers back, eyes fluttering shut. “Not when your beauty is the only thing keeping me tethered to this world.”
Q groans and buries his face in a throw pillow. “Please. I beg you both. Take NyQuil and go to sleep.”
But you and Min-ho are too far gone.
“My love,” you croak, dramatically adjusting your blanket like a shawl. “If I don’t make it… promise me something.”
Min-ho nods solemnly. “Anything.”
You pull him close with trembling hands. “Tell my plants I loved them. And delete the drafts in my Notes app.”
Min-ho gasps, eyes wet with fake tears. “I will. And if I die before you, you must take my hoodie and wear it every day unwashed so my scent lingers forever.”
“Stop,” Dae says, laughing through his nose. “You guys aren’t dying. You just have colds.”
“But the fever, Dae,” Min-ho moans. “It took my will to live. And my sense of taste.”
“Mine too,” you say, leaning your head on his shoulder. “Except for when he feeds me soup. Then I can taste love.”
Yuri clutches the chip bag to her chest. “I swear if I hear the word ‘soup’ one more time—”
Kitty finally snaps, standing up. “Okay, this is enough. You two are acting like star-crossed lovers separated by war, not sinus infections.”
“We are separated by war,” Min-ho mumbles. “War on our immune systems.”
Kitty points at him. “You’re being so dramatic, and you’re wearing my sister’s hoodie again.”
“Well it’s soft, and she gave it to me.” he replies innocently.
She glares. “ no she didn’t Romeo.”
Q sits up, eyes narrowed. “Wait are you guys actually sick or just milking it for attention and uninterrupted cuddles?”
Min-ho shrugs. “Mostly the cuddles.”
Dae tosses a tissue box at the couch. “Well, if you two are going to die, can you at least do it quietly? Some of us are trying to preserve brain cells.”
But you and Min-ho just grin, snuggle deeper into your blanket cocoon, and press your foreheads together like it’s the last scene of a tragic period drama.
Kitty throws a pillow at both of you. “I miss when you hated each other.”
“Same,” Yuri says. “This was supposed to be a cute enemies-to-lovers arc, not a live-action The Notebook: Flu Edition.”
And despite all the teasing, as your friends roll their eyes and threaten to stage an intervention, there’s something oddly sweet about it all.
Because even though you and Min-ho are the most annoying, melodramatic, lovesick duo anyone’s ever seen… you’re also happy.
Grossly, ridiculously, snottily happy.
And nothing not even a cold can ruin that.
It’s been a full week since the Great Romantic Plague of you and Min-ho.
The tissues are gone. The fevers have broken. The dramatic moaning has stopped echoing through the house. Life, as far as your friends are concerned, is finally returning to normal.
Kitty sighs contently as she sprawls on the couch, scrolling on her phone. “They’re cured,” she says, almost dreamlike. “The nightmare is over.”
“I forgot what peace sounded like,” Yuri adds, sipping an iced coffee. “It’s beautiful.”
Q lounges on the beanbag, headphones around his neck. “No more love sick dramatics. No more poetry about soup. No more cuddling like they’re starring in a tragedy set in the 1800s.”
Dae throws popcorn into the air and catches it. “Honestly, I feel like we should throw a party just to celebrate their recovery. Like a ‘You’re No Longer Gross’ party.”
Kitty smirks. “I’ll make a cake that says ‘Welcome Back to the Land of the Living Please Keep Your Tongues to Yourselves.’”
Just as she finishes that sentence, the front door creaks open.
You and Min-ho step in, fully healthy, fully energized and somehow, even more obnoxiously in love than before.
He’s holding your hand with interlaced fingers, spinning you around like you’re dancing into the room. You giggle and collapse against his chest with an over-the-top sigh.
“My sunshine has returned to me,” Min-ho announces to the room like he’s the lead in a musical. “No longer pale with fever, but radiant with love!”
You beam up at him, cupping his cheeks. “And my brave nurse, who battled illness beside me, refusing to let go of my hand even as I descended into the darkness of… congestion.”
Kitty stares in horror. “Oh my god.”
You and Min-ho flop onto the loveseat like it’s your shared throne. You immediately lean into him, head on his shoulder, while he lovingly feeds you a piece of cut-up fruit from a container you clearly brought for this exact reason.
“Open up, peach of my heart,” he coos.
You open your mouth and dramatically sigh. “You always know just how to nourish my soul.”
Yuri drops her coffee. “They’re worse.”
“They’re so much worse,” Q agrees, sitting up like he’s ready to flee.
“Who feeds fruit to their partner in front of people?” Dae exclaims. “Is this a brunch date or an art film?!”
“We just got you both back,” Kitty groans, grabbing a pillow to scream into. “This was supposed to be the chill, cute, recovered phase of your relationship! Not… this!”
Min-ho chuckles and wipes an imaginary tear from your cheek. “She cries when she laughs too hard. It’s adorable.”
You turn to him with a dreamy smile. “You remembered…”
Everyone groans in unison.
But you and Min-ho? Unbothered. You’re wrapped in a fluffy shared hoodie, playing footsie under the coffee table, giggling like you’ve just discovered each other all over again.
It’s not even noon, and you’ve already called each other “lovebug,” “my beautiful bacterial host,” “sweet snuggle dumpling,” and most alarmingly “my forever fever.”
“I’m leaving,” Yuri says, grabbing her bag. “This is a couple’s house now.”
“Agreed,” Q mutters. “I’m gonna go watch horror movies. Alone. In silence. Where no one calls anyone a ‘snuggle dumpling.’”
Dae is already halfway out the door. “Call me when they break up or fall into a coma.”
Kitty points at both of you. “You are officially banned from being sick, being well, being cute, or being in the same room ever again.”
You smile sweetly. “Aw. We love you too.”
As your friends scatter like emotionally wounded witnesses, you and Min-ho cozy up even closer on the loveseat.He kisses your temple and whispers, “I think we broke them.”
You grin. “Totally worth it.”
Because now that you’re no longer dying, you have every intention of living loudly, ridiculously, and very much in love.
It’s late. The lights are dim. The room is quiet except for the giggling.
You and Min-ho are tangled in each other on your bed, whispering and laughing under the covers like two high schoolers who snuck in past curfew. It’s one of those nights where everything feels light and perfect. He’s brushing his fingers through your hair, telling you about the time he accidentally wore two different shoes to school, and you’re wheezing into his chest, trying not to die of laughter.
But then knock knock knock.
Your eyes widen. “That’s Kitty.”
Min-ho’s eyes widen more. “Hide me.”
“Because last time she caught us making out on the couch, she threatened to install security cameras and get me neutered.”
You shove him off the bed in a panic. “Under. Go. Now.”
He hits the floor with a thud and shimmies under your bed just as the door handle turns.
You’re sitting upright now, trying to look innocent, like you weren’t just aggressively cuddling boyfriend. Your hair is a mess. Your shirt is on backwards. The guilt is practically oozing out of your pores.
Kitty opens the door slowly, gives the room one glance, then folds her arms. “Where is he?”
She raises a single eyebrow. “Min-ho.”
You laugh, but it’s high-pitched and borderline suspicious. “What? That’s so random. Why would Min-ho be here?”
She steps inside like a detective who’s two steps from cracking the case. “First of all, you didn’t fix your shirt, which is literally inside out right now. Second, he’s really loud when he talks, just like you, and I definitely heard someone shout ‘snuggle attack’ five seconds ago. And third you two are always together. Like, we get it, you’re soulmates, you can breathe air separately.”
From under the bed, there’s a tiny cough.
You smile too wide. “That was… my phone notification. I have the flu cough ringtone.”
Kitty slowly crouches down and peeks under the bed. Min-ho’s wide-eyed face is staring back at her like a guilty gremlin caught in the act.
He smiles sheepishly and wiggles his fingers in a little wave. “Hey, roomie.”
Kitty covered her face. “Please tell me you two weren’t doing anything I’ll need therapy for.”
“We were bonding,” Min-ho said innocently, then winked at you. “Maybe trying to make you an auntie. Or maybe not. Who knows?”
“MIN-HO!” you shouted, throwing a pillow at his head.
Kitty slaps her forehead. “Please. I don’t need a mental image of my niece or nephew being conceived five feet away from my potted plants.”
You cover your face in horror. “Okay, ew, can we not—”
Kitty gagged and turned for the door. “Okay, first of all absolutely not. Second, I’m coming back tomorrow. All day. Just in case.”
“Good choice, sister-in-law,” Min-ho called after her proudly.
“I SWEAR TO GOD—” Kitty shouted back from the hallway.
You looked at him, wide-eyed. “You’re insane.”
He grinned, wiggling his eyebrows as he leaned back on your bed. “Insanely in love with you.”
You rolled your eyes, laughing. “Yeah, yeah… just don’t sneeze under the bed next time, genius.”
