Chapter Text
Kyung spotted Yeri before Yeri saw her.
She was crossing the street in black ankle boots, jeans, and a loose white blouse that caught the wind just enough to shift against her hips. A black New York Yankees cap sat low over her eyes, the brim casting a shadow across her face. Her hair fell in soft waves over her collar, just brushing the curve of her jaw.
It was still technically summer, but the edge of fall was sneaking in. The kind of weather where long sleeves didn’t feel like a mistake.
Kyung was grateful for it. Yeri looked really good in long sleeves.
“Yeri!” she called, lifting a hand. Her voice came out a little breathless, and it only got worse when Yeri turned toward her and smiled. Wide, easy, like sunshine aimed directly at her.
Yeri walked up, her steps light. “Kyung.”
The way she said her name—warm, familiar—landed somewhere between Kyung’s stomach and her chest. She didn’t have time to figure out what to do with the feeling before Yeri linked their arms together.
“I have zero directional instinct,” Yeri said, leaning in like they’d done this a hundred times before. “Lead the way?”
Kyung nodded, and they started walking.
“It’s just down this way,” Kyung said. “It’s me and Jaeyi’s favorite place. Pretty popular with students, but not too loud.”
The city around them buzzed—commuters, muffled traffic, a street performer tuning a guitar on the corner. When they reached the crosswalk, Kyung looked both ways—out of habit—and stepped forward just as a car blew past the stop sign.
She reacted on instinct.
One hand shot out, grabbing Yeri by the hip and pulling her back hard enough that she nearly stumbled. Kyung caught her weight, nearly losing her own balance in the process. For a moment, they stayed there- Kyung holding Yeri back, Yeri holding Kyung upright. Then, anger bubbled in Kyung's chest and exploded out her mouth.
“Hey!” she snapped, turning toward the car and abandoning her hold on Yeri. “Do you not see the stop sign?! You almost hit us—get out and I’ll show you exactly—”
“Kyung,” Yeri laughed, tugging on the hem of her shirt to reel her back in. Kyung let herself be retrieved, anger cooling as Yeri linked arms with her again. She was still bubbly and smiling, like they hadn't just almost been flattened by a car. “Relax. It's fine. We’re fine. The driver’s probably a lunatic anyways; let's not tempt fate by screaming at him."
Kyung grumbled something under her breath, but let Yeri pull her forward.
They didn’t speak again until they reached the café. Kyung stepped ahead to hold the door open.
Yeri gave her a small curtsey, similar to the ones she always gave her empty audience after practice. “Chivalrous.”
“I try,” Kyung replied, smirking slightly.
Inside, the smell of leather, coffee, toasted sugar, and aged wood wrapped around them. The café had the quiet hum of students typing, steam hissing from the espresso machine, the occasional clink of mugs and silverware.
Kyung glanced up at the menu, though she didn’t really need to. “The drip here’s good. Today’s roast is a robusta bourbon—it’s dark, strong, kind of earthy, with this rich top note that tastes like whiskey. They make it fresh per order.”
Yeri blinked at her. “Wow. You’re a walking sommelier for coffee.”
Kyung shrugged. “It gets me through even the most mundane case studies.”
Yeri turned to the barista with a bright smile. “Do you have anything hot, creamy, coconut-y, and completely divorced from whiskey?”
“We’ve got a coconut brulee latte—coconut and caramel syrups, whipped cream, caramel drizzle, and coconut shavings.”
“Perfect,” Yeri said, then gestured toward Kyung, holding her card out to the barista. “And one of the scary-sounding whiskey coffees for her.”
Kyung looked scandalized. “Wait, you're paying?”
Yeri ignored the protest, already handing over her card.
They found a quiet corner booth, slipping into seats across from each other. The café was a perfect environment to study or chat, the steady hum of conversation around them filling the space without being too loud.
“I can’t believe you completely ignored my suggestion.”
“I can’t believe you think I’d like anything ‘dark’, ‘rich’, and ‘bourbon’-y,” Yeri chuckled, sipping her latte and wiping the whipped cream off her nose. Kyung shrugged- that was fair. "I promise you, if I could drink plain coffee and enjoy it, I would. A cup of drip brew is a lot more affordable than one of these floofy lattes."
And so much more bitter.
“So, you say that this is yours and Jaeyi’s favorite spot?”
“Mhm.” Kyung swallowed, burning her tongue a little, then set her mug down. “We’ve been coming here since freshman year. We shared a dorm our first couple of years, and it wasn't far from here.”
“Is that how the two of you met? Your dorm?”
“No, we met in high school, actually. It's kind of a boring story. We studied at different preparatory schools but ended up at the same class our freshman year. I didn’t talk to her at first because I thought she was- well, kind of unbearable.”
Yeri raised an eyebrow, amused. “Unbearable how ?”
“Well for one, she’s wickedly smart. I came in ranked first from my middle school, and she beat me out within the first two weeks. And second, she walked in like she already owned the place. Everyone adored her instantly. It was... maddening.”
Yeri chuckled. “I believe it.”
“The worst part is-” Kyung sighed deeply, like admitting it was physically painful. “She came out on top in the end, and she never lets me forget it.”
“But now she’s your best friend?”
Kyung shrugged. “Some days I question even my own judgement.”
Yeri let the conversation lull into a brief, soft silence as they both sipped their drinks, glances lingering on eachother just a little longer than necessary. Finally, Kyung found the strength to continue the conversation.
“Do you live around here?”
“Not this specific part of town, but close, yes,” Yeri said. “I’ve got a little place off-campus. Just me and my roommate. She's a student here, too.”
Kyung raised her mug. “Who is your roommate?”
For a moment, Yeri let herself be deluded into believing that the question was out of jealousy and not curiosity. It was a confidence boost to even consider the possibility of Kyung feeling uncomfortable with her living with another woman.
“Her name is Woo Seulgi. We've been roommates going on two years, now.”
Kyung paused. “Don’t think I know her.”
“You probably wouldn’t. She works crazy hours at the hospital, and when she’s not there, she’s studying in the library, so-” she gestured vaguely. “It’s feels like I live alone sometimes.”
“That sounds like a good deal to me.”
“Sometimes it is,” Yeri admitted. “Other times, it’d be nice to have somebody to hang out with in the comfort of our shared space- you know? Like, just eat dinner. Talk about how our days went.” She winced slightly, covering up the awkwardness of her admission with a sip of her latte. “But I’ll make sure to introduce the two of you sometime, if she’s ever off work long enough to plan something.”
Kyung nodded. “That’d be nice.”
Yeri smiled. “Maybe you could bring Jaeyi, too. I'd like to meet your friends, and I'm sure that Seulgi would enjoy meeting more people, too.” Yeri didn't often interfere with her roommate's business, but truthfully, the girl needed more friends. Or, at least, one more friend.
Kyung immediately shook her head. “Jaeyi is not the type for... double dates.”
Yeri’s eyes sparkled over her mug, not even minding the rejection of her idea. “Is this a date?”
Kyung choked on her coffee.
She coughed hard, sputtering into her napkin while Yeri watched, clearly amused.
“Are you okay?” Yeri asked, tilting her head and handing her another napkin.
Kyung managed to recover, dabbing at her mouth. “Fine. I just wasn’t expecting that question.”
Yeri leaned forward, resting her chin in her palm. She wasn't going to let her off the hook so easily. “So?”
“So what?”
“Is this a date?”
Kyung stared at her. Her brain felt like a chalkboard halfway through a lecture—half-written equations, no conclusions. Was it? She'd never been the best at discerning these types of things- knowing conversation from flirting, a friendly hug from something else. It was better- in her experience- to err on the side of caution.
“It’s... a meeting.”
Yeri stared at her, dumbfounded. “A meeting?”
She asked Kyung if she was single, invited her to coffee, paid for her coffee, and asked to go out a second time when they were finished, and Kyung thought that it was a meeting? She could almost laugh if she wasn't at such a loss for words.
“Yes," Kyung doubled down. "A meeting between two people who’ve entered into a mutually agreed-upon... arrangement.”
Yeri nodded solemnly, a smile sneaking onto her face. “Ah. A business meeting.”
“Exactly.”
Yeri took a slow sip. “So since I paid for your coffee, I assume you’ll be paying next time. You know, to keep the contract balanced? Business partners don't normally treat eachother like I just treated you, and since I don't have a company card...”
Kyung narrowed her eyes. “You enjoy this, don’t you?”
“Messing with you?” Yeri grinned. “Endlessly.”
Kyung shook her head, but she was smiling now. “Fine. I’ll buy the coffee next time.”
Yeri beamed. “It’s a date.”
Then, after a beat—“Or not.”
Over the next few weeks, their meetings— business meetings , as Kyung insisted—became a regular thing. Coffee shops, long walks, occasional detours into bookshops or music stores. It was easy. Surprisingly easy.
Kyung still tried to keep things in check, convincing herself this was all just part of their arrangement. But Yeri had a way of making everything feel like it wasn’t. Like she wasn’t just spending time with someone who needed a plus-one, but with someone who liked her company. And Kyung wasn’t sure how to feel about that.
One evening, after a particularly long study session, Yeri grabbed Kyung’s wrist and pulled her down a quiet street.
“Where are you taking me?” Kyung asked, eyebrows raised.
Yeri just grinned. “You’ll see.”
They ended up in a small used book store, the kind with dim lighting and mismatched chairs, where the air smelled like old perfume and coffee-stained pages. In the corner stood an upright piano, its keys slightly worn from years of use. Yeri placed Kyung before it, her hands on her shoulders, practically beaming at it.
"There it is!"
Kyung shot her a look. “It's...a piano?"
Yeri rolled her eyes, pushing Kyung towards it. "It's our piano. At least, for the next few minutes. I want to teach you a song."
"Yeri, I already told you, I have no musical ability. I've never even touched a piano."
"You touched a marimba, and it's basically the same concept." Yeri sat down on the bench and patted the space beside her. "Sit."
Kyung hesitated but ultimately slid onto the seat, hands awkwardly placed on her lap. It was reminiscent of her first time playing the harp- tentative, overly careful, not knowing what to do with her hands. Yeri was determined to teach her.
Yeri placed her fingers on the higher register, playing a few notes. “Do you know remeber anything I told you about the piano?”
Kyung huffed. “It’s both a string and a percussion instrument,” Kyung parroted Yeri’s lesson as she talked through her repertoire of instruments. “There are hammers inside that strike the strings when the keys are played.”
“Exactly.” Yeri chuckled. “You’re going to help me play it.”
Kyung blinked. “Help you how? ”
Yeri took Kyung’s left hand and placed it on the lower keys. Kyung tensed at the contact. “I promised to teach you something about music, didn’t I? You’ll play the left-handed notes, and I’ll take the melody on the higher notes.” She gestured to the right side of the piano.
“This seems like a terrible idea.”
Yeri ignored her again. “Just follow my lead.”
And somehow, Kyung did. Yeri guided her through a simple pattern—three notes, repeated, each played for about one second—before launching into an elegant melody, fingers moving fluidly over the keys. Kyung’s left hand clunked along, hesitant but steady, her part easy enough that even she couldn’t mess it up.
And for once, Kyung didn’t overthink it. She let the notes fill the space between them, let the sound be the only thing that mattered.
"I can't believe you play piano that well and don't even put it to good use in the orchestra," Kyung spoke honestly without checking her words. "If you play everything well, how will the audience know that you're talented from just hearing your performance on the harp?"
"That is one of the many timeless woes of performance," Yeri sighed dramatically. "You can only do one thing at a time, and you just have to choose the one you're best at, or the one that makes you the happiest."
Maybe happiest was the wrong choice of words. Yeri pondered over it. Perhaps 'fulfilled' was the best vocabulary to describe it. There were certainly times when playing the harp made her much more angry than it did happy.
"Which one is the harp to you?" Kyung asked, interrupting her train of thought. "Your best, or your happiest?"
"Probably...both. But-" She straightened up. "The word 'best' is subjective. I could play the worst rendition of a song on a triangle, and that bookkeeper over there might feel that his life has been changed." She nudged Kyung's shoulder. "You weren't too bad yourself, Counselor."
Kyung scoffed, but there was no bite to it. “I don’t see myself in the philharmonic any time soon.”
Yeri shook her head. Kyung needed to be more confident. “I’m serious. You did well.”
Kyung didn’t know why that made her feel warm. But she refused to acknowledge it. Instead, she racked her brain for some kind of retribution- some equally challenging task that she could teach Yeri to do- to watch her flounder and gawk and struggle to keep up before eventually learning something new.
“Next time, we’re doing something I’m good at.”
Yeri smirked. “Like?”
Kyung crossed her arms. “I'm going to teach you legalese.”
Yeri groaned dramatically. “How thrilling.”
Kyung smiled, already excited. “You’re the one who signed up for this.”
And Yeri, looking at her with something unreadable in her expression, simply said, “I know.”
Their next so-called “business meeting” took place in a quiet corner of the law library, an environment so different from their usual coffee shops and music halls that Yeri found herself sitting up a little straighter. It felt like she should be taking notes, like Kyung was about to quiz her on a midterm she hadn’t studied for.
Kyung, for her part, was in her element. Books were spread out in front of her, highlighters lined up in meticulous order. She had already started speaking, words flowing faster than Yeri had ever heard from her, hands gesturing as if she were painting her arguments in the air.
“The thing about law,” Kyung was saying, tapping the edge of a thick casebook, “is that it’s not just about memorizing statutes. It’s about interpretation. It’s about precedent. You have to think about how one decision influences the next, how a ruling from fifty years ago might be the deciding factor in a case today. It’s like—”
She hesitated.
Yeri leaned in, propping her chin on her hand. “Like what?”
Kyung exhaled, her eyes scanning the open book in front of her as if the answer was buried in the text. Finally, she said, “It’s kind of like… an art form.”
Yeri’s eyebrows lifted. “You think so?”
Kyung nodded, her voice steadier now. “The law isn’t just rules written in stone. It’s a living thing. It shifts depending on how you frame an argument, how you tell a story. A good lawyer—” she pressed her hand against the page, as if grounding herself—“a good lawyer knows how to make a jury feel something. You take facts, evidence, and logic, and you weave them into something compelling.”
Yeri’s lips curled into a slow smile. “That sounds a lot like music.”
Kyung blinked at her, caught off guard.
Yeri continued, a little mischievously, “I mean, think about it. You take a bunch of notes, some rhythms, maybe some dynamics, and on their own, they don’t mean much. But put them together the right way, and suddenly, you make someone cry. Or feel hopeful. Or nostalgic.”
Kyung stared at her for a beat, then huffed out something that was almost a laugh. “I never thought about it like that.”
“Well,” Yeri said, tapping her pen against the desk, “you said it yourself. Law is an art.”
Kyung shook her head, but she didn’t disagree. Instead, she reached for one of the books and slid it toward Yeri. “Alright, artist. Let’s see how well you do with this kind of composition.”
Yeri looked down at the text, eyes immediately glazing over at the dense legal jargon. She squinted. “…What language is this in?”
Kyung smirked. “Korean.”
“Debatable,” Yeri muttered, but she leaned in anyway, tracing a finger under a paragraph. “So, if a law is this complicated, how do normal people know what they can and can’t do?”
“To some extent, they don’t,” Kyung said simply, flipping to another page. “That’s why they pay people like me to explain it to them and settle disputes.”
Yeri grinned. “Sounds like a scam.”
Kyung gave her a look, but there was amusement in her eyes. “It’s not a scam. It’s… a necessary evil.”
Yeri hummed, flipping through a few more pages before looking up at her again. “Do you ever get tired of it?”
Kyung tilted her head. “Tired of what?”
“This.” Yeri gestured to the mountain of books. “Cases, arguments, legalese. Do you ever wonder what would’ve happened if you’d chosen something else?”
Kyung didn’t answer immediately. She let the question settle, her fingers tapping lightly against the desk. Finally, she said, “No. I think I was always going to end up here. It’s like- there’s a right, and there’s a wrong, and passion has its place- like I said- but there’s also so much that is concrete. Infallible constants that guide humanity as a whole.”
For a moment, she felt embarrased about letting herself get so carried away talking about it. She never meant to dump information on unsuspecting bystanders, but when she glanced at Yeri, she didn't feel judged. She just felt listened to.
“You really love it, huh?”
Kyung hesitated, but then, slowly, she nodded. “I do.”
Yeri smiled, warmth spreading through her. “Good.”
Kyung blinked. “Why is that good?”
“I like seeing people who love what they do,” Yeri shrugged. “It makes everything more interesting.”
Kyung looked away, suddenly very focused on highlighting a sentence that probably didn’t need highlighting. Her heart beat harder in her chest, her face flushing red. Yeri didn't mention it, and she was glad. “Well. Glad I can provide entertainment, then.”
Yeri just chuckled. “So. Are you gonna teach me anything, or am I just going to sit here admiring your work ethic?”
Kyung rolled her eyes, but there was no irritation behind it. Just something softer.
“Fine,” she sighed. “Let’s start with something simple.”
Yeri leaned in, chin in her hands, eyes full of mischief. “Define simple .”
And somehow, an evening spent poring over the legality of music copyrights turned into one of the most enjoyable nights Yeri had had in a while.
Kyung walked alongside Jaeyi, hands shoved in her pockets as they strolled across campus. The late afternoon sun cast long shadows on the pavement, the crisp autumn air biting at her cheeks. She wasn’t paying much attention to where they were going—not when Jaeyi was smirking at her like she was about to expose her deepest, most embarrassing secrets.
“So,” Jaeyi drawled, nudging Kyung’s side with her elbow. “I never did get to hear how your private performance went.”
Kyung sighed dramatically, tilting her head toward the sky. “Yeah, and if I wanted to tell you, I would’ve.”
“Seriously?” Jaeyi’s grin widened. “You can’t call me for advice, finally get a love life, then give me the cold shoulder. Come on. I’m living vicariously through you.”
Kyung groaned, resisting the urge to shove her. “There's no love life, and you’re insufferable.”
“And you’re a tease.” Jaeyi glanced at her, amused. “Tell me. Come on. Who is he?”
“I’m not telling you.”
“Stop acting like we haven’t told each other our darkest secrets, and just come out with it. Anything. I don’t like to beg, Kyung, but I’m begging here, and if you don’t tell me, I’m going to make it my personal mission to find out anyways, so please-”
“ Alright!” Kyung rubbed a hand over her face, as if that might erase the memory. “I may have…completely ruined any chances I have.”
Jaeyi lifted an eyebrow, urging her to continue.
“S…he wanted to introduce me to his roommate, and he knows that you and I are friends, so he said that it would be fun for all four of us to hang out together,” Kyung admitted, voice muffled behind her hand. Maybe changing up the gender of the performer would throw Jaeyi off her scent. She was far too embarrassed for Jaeyi to come anywhere near her and Yeri’s…arrangement.
Jaeyi blinked. Then, her smirk returned in full force. “And? What did you say?”
Kyung dropped her hand, scowling. “I said that you’re not the kind of person who likes double dates.”
Jaeyi let out a delighted laugh, tipping her head back. “What! That sounds so fun, though; why would you-.”
“That’s not the point, Jaeyi; I called our coffee meeting a date . To his face!”
“Kyung,” Jaeyi deadpanned. “He asked you out for coffee. He gave you a private performance. What more does the man have to do? Take a hint .” Then…”Is the roommate hot? Follow up question; is the roommate a woman or a man? Because if it’s a man, then you’re right; I don’t want to do a double date.”
“It doesn’t matter anyways. He asked if what we were doing was a date, and I said that it was a business meeting.”
Jaeyi howled with laughter, grabbing Kyung’s shoulder for support, shaking her.
Kyung rolled her eyes but couldn’t suppress the small smile tugging at her lips. Then, she saw an opening. “You know what, I’m done with always talking about the musician because recently, you seem to not have any time for movie nights or study sessions. What’s going on in your love life, Jaeyi?”
Jaeyi’s laughter immediately cut off. “Nothing.”
Kyung gave her a pointed look. “Uh-huh.”
Kyung scowled and picked up her pace, only for Jaeyi to easily match her stride.
They were still bantering when someone barreled into Kyung, knocking the air clean out of her lungs.
“Hey! Watch it—” Kyung started, stumbling back into Jaeyi, instinctively scolding whoever had been careless enough to run right into her path. But then, she got a good look at the woman swaying in front of her. “Are you… okay?”
She and Jaeyi reached out at the same time, concern flickering across their faces. But the woman—wearing slightly wrinkled scrubs, hair a little messy, pupils just a bit too blown—wasn’t looking at Kyung.
She was looking at Jaeyi.
And for a second, she looked like she’d seen a ghost.
She flinched back. “No. Don’t touch me.”
Jaeyi’s face screwed up in confusion. “Seulgi…”
The woman didn’t waste time, borderline running away from the pair of friends, who watched her go.
“Seulgi?” Kyung’s eyebrows furrowed. Was that Yeri’s roommate? “Do you know her?”
“Kind of. She’s in one of my classes,” Jaeyi explained, looking conflicted, like she wanted to run after her. “Come on, we should get some studying in.”
Kyung stiffened as Jaeyi leaned back and stretched beside her. She picked her phone up, smiling at a picture Yeri had sent- hands shaped like claws by her face as she showed off the nails she’d gotten done for the fundraiser the next day. They were short and round with a light pink gloss and a white tip.
choikyung: they're pretty!
harpest: i would’ve gotten them longer but i can’t play well if they’re too long :(
choikyung: sure that’s the only reason you keep them short? ;)
harpest: typing…
“Who are you texting?” Kyung flinched, turning away from Jaeyi even further. “Did you get a boyfriend and not tell me?”
“No.” God, she was incessant. They had just talked about this.
She snapped the book closed, sliding her phone into her pocket. It was getting late, the gala was tomorrow, and she was starting to feel sick with nerves. Her dress waited like a threat in her closet, and unfortunately, she was awful at makeup, so Yeri was going to come over beforehand and bring her makeup and hair bag.
“I have to go. I’m meeting a friend for dinner.”
“A friend?” Jaeyi hooked an eyebrow. “I didn’t know you had other friends.”
“Ha.” Kyung deadpanned. “You can’t come.”
“I wasn’t going to ask to come anyways,” Jaeyi said defensively, closing her textbook “I don’t want to third wheel whatever sexual escapades you’re taking part in.”
Kyung scoffed. Seriously? “Sexual escapades in the dining hall?” She had standards.
“Are you saying you wouldn’t?” Choi Kyung considered it for a moment, then shrugged. Maybe if the right person offered. “That’s what I thought.” Jaeyi stood up, stretching. “I’ll see you later. Make good choices.”
“I always do.” Kyung shot her some finger guns, then turned on a heel and walked to her apartment, feeling her heart beat hard against the walls of her chest. God, she was nervous.