Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

“What the actual fuck, Ning Yizhuo?!”

Minjeong stormed into the classroom like a gust of fury in blonde. The sound of her voice silenced everything—idle chatter, clacking pens, even the faint hum of the ceiling fan. Every single student turned to witness the scene as she marched toward the desk in front of her, eyes blazing.

She slammed her hands down on the wooden surface and leaned forward, cheeks flushed a deep red. It wasn’t the bashful kind either—it was the kind of red that came from sheer, unfiltered rage.

“You said it was locker 411!” she hissed, glaring daggers at the calm girl before her.

Ningning blinked, unbothered, as she closed her hand mirror. “Nope,” she replied coolly, lips popping off with the finality of someone who had absolutely no idea her life was in danger. “I said it was locker 114.”

“She did,” Giselle chimed in from her seat beside the younger, barely glancing up from her book. “Very clearly.”

Minjeong groaned dramatically and slid into the seat across from them, her head falling to the desk with a dull thud.

“Of course you'd side with your girlfriend,” she mumbled into the wood.

“Not that it matters now,” she added, voice muffled and pathetic.

Her brain replayed every moment from earlier that morning like a cruel little movie reel. The envelope clutched tightly in her hand. Her nerves bundled tight in her stomach. The rush of adrenaline when she heard approaching footsteps. And then—panic. Locker numbers blurring. Her eyes darting. Fingers fumbling. She’d slipped the envelope into what she thought was 114.

Apparently, it wasn’t.

She had even gone to school early to avoid being seen. She’d timed it, prepared for it, hyped herself up for weeks. It was supposed to be her moment. Her grand romantic confession—written in careful script on pressed parchment paper, sprayed lightly with perfume, sealed with a sticker shaped like a sakura blossom.

And now?

It was probably in the hands of a total stranger.

“I shouldn’t have done this,” she groaned, hitting her forehead against the desk again. “I don’t even know if Minju likes me back…”

The words hung in the air.

Minju—the ever-composed, ever-graceful captain of the fencing club. Minjeong had been helplessly, stupidly in love with her since freshman year, when they got paired together for a history project and ended up spending weekends comparing caffeinated drinks from the cafes they chose to study in  instead of reviewing the Joseon Dynasty.

Minju had been different back then—still sharp-tongued and driven, but quieter. Softer, somehow. She spoke with passion about swordplay and justice, about her frustrations with the club’s leadership. Minjeong always told her, “They’re just jealous you’re better than them,” and Minju would reply, with that tiny smile she saved just for a few, “You’re one to talk.”

Minjeong had admired her for her strength, but what really sealed her crush was how kind she could be when no one was looking.

Now they were in different classes, different clubs, different circles. Conversations had dwindled to hallway waves and awkward smiles. The distance had crept in like fog.

So Minjeong had written the letter.

And it had ended up in the wrong hands.

Giselle reached over and gave her a reassuring pat on the back. “Win, don’t beat yourself up. Accidents happen. We’ll just figure out who owns locker 411 and explain.”

Ningning nodded in agreement. “Yeah, maybe they didn’t even open it yet!”

Minjeong peeked up from her arms, brow twitching. “I am going to sue this school. Who the hell thought changing locker assignments every year was a good idea?!”

The girls snorted, trying not to laugh.

Just then, the bell rang, slicing through the tension.

“We’ll ask the others at lunch,” Giselle said, standing and collecting her books. “Maybe someone knows who uses that locker.”

Minjeong nodded slowly, trying to recompose herself as she dragged herself back to her assigned seat.

Just as she sat down, the teacher entered.

“Kim? You may begin your report.”

Her eyes widened.

Oh fuck. She had completely forgotten.

“Where have you three been?”

Lia raised a brow as Minjeong, Ningning, and Giselle finally joined them at the cafeteria table. Her tone was playful, but there was a flicker of concern in her eyes.

Minjeong didn’t respond. She flopped into the seat across from Ryujin, folded her arms on the table, and buried her face in them like a girl who had lost all faith in humanity.

“Oh no,” Ryujin said dramatically, pointing a delicate finger at her. “Did your calculus teacher obliterate you again?”

“Was it another debate loss?” Yeji added from her side, sipping juice from a tiny carton.

Giselle opened his mouth, but before she could speak, Minjeong lifted her head with all the energy of someone dragging herself out of the grave. “How I wish that were the case.”

Ningning took over the explanation, launching into the tragic tale of the misdelivered love letter. He told it with deadpan precision, finishing with, “I really did say it was 114. Winter just… panicked.”

Ryujin burst out laughing, earning a hard swat from Yeji.

“Hey! Okay, okay!” she winced, rubbing the sore spot. “I’m sorry, Win. That really sucks.”

Minjeong grumbled incoherently, her face still buried in her arms.

Lia, meanwhile, had gone quiet. Arms folded, she stared into space, as if doing a mental search.

“Locker 411, huh…” she muttered.

The whole table snapped to attention.

“You know who owns it?!” Minjeong sat up so fast she nearly knocked over her water.

Lia hesitated for a moment, then finally said, “Yeah. It’s Yu Jimin’s locker.”

There was a beat of silence.

“Yu Jimin?!” Minjeong paled instantly, eyes wide in absolute horror.

Even Yeji raised an eyebrow. “You gave Yu Jimin a love letter?”

“I didn’t mean to!”

Minjeong slammed her hands on the table, half-pleading, half-terrified. The others winced as trays rattled.

Jimin. The enigma. The chaos bringer.

She was infamous on campus for all the wrong reasons: unexpected antics, detention-worthy stunts, and a smile that promised she was always five steps ahead of you. Despite this, her grades was impeccable, on certain subjects. She arrived at school absurdly early, usually found asleep by the window long before the halls filled with students.

Yet somehow, against all logic, she passed all her classes.

“People say she takes notes in either encrypted or poetry form,” Yeji offered, bemused.

“Yeah, I asked to borrow them once,” Lia said. “It was just doodles and stanzas. I didn’t even know if I was looking at physics or philosophy.”

“She told me ‘a true genius never reveals her tactics’ and disappears immediately after the bell rings” Ningning added.

“She’s going to kill me,” Minjeong muttered.

The group tried to reassure her, but she was already spiraling again. Her head thunked back onto the table with a dramatic groan.

To lighten the mood, they all began bickering over who deserved the last mandoo in Lia’s lunchbox. In the end, they unanimously agreed to give it to Minjeong—partly out of pity, partly to bribe her into not melting into the floor.

Ryujin stole a bite before sliding it over to her, earning another slap from Yeji.

Elsewhere in the building, the halls were mostly busy.

Jimin walked casually toward her locker, humming a tune only she seemed to know. When she swung the door open, something caught her eye.

An envelope.

It was perched on top of her books. Cream-colored. Delicate. Slightly scented.

She blinked, curious. Her fingers brushed over the seal before carefully peeling it open. No name. No address.

Just verses.

She read the letter once. Then again. Then a third time—slower, with a growing smile curling on her lips.

This wasn’t just some cheesy crush note. This was art. Every line was filled with rhythm and ache. It wasn’t perfect—some words fumbled, others stumbled—but it was honest. It felt real.

To Jimin, poetry wasn’t just rhyme and words—it was blood, sweat, and breath turned into text. And whoever had written this had bared their soul in ink.

She folded the paper neatly and slid it into her bag.

She didn’t need to know who wrote it.

She would find out.

But just as she zipped her bag closed, a pair of hurried footsteps echoed from the stairwell. She looked up.

A girl stood in front of her, breathing heavily, blonde  hair slightly disheveled from running.

Minjeong.

“That’s mine,” she said, chest still rising and falling with effort.

Their eyes locked.

And Jimin smiled.

Chapter Text

As soon as Minjeong’s last class was dismissed, she immediately dashed out of the room, not even bothering to zip her bag properly. The zipper clacked open behind her as papers threatened to spill, but she didn’t care. Her mind was spiraling.

Of all people. Of all lockers. Why must it be Yu Jimin?

Her sneakers slapped hard against the tiled floors of the hallway as she ran, breath shallow, heart pounding. The campus bustled with its usual post-period chaos—students pouring out of classrooms, teachers swiping their attendance sheets, someone arguing about who ate their lunch from the shared faculty fridge—but Minjeong heard none of it. Just the thump of her own anxiety.

She spotted her. Just a few meters away. Jimin stood by the windowed corridor, sunlight catching the tips of her brown hair and casting a faint glow over the envelope she casually twirled in her fingers like a toy.

“That’s mine,” Minjeong managed to say, panting, once she closed the distance. Her voice was tight, caught between panic and fury.

Jimin blinked and tilted her head, examining the disheveled girl in front of her. “This is… yours?” she asked innocently, holding the envelope up like it was some exhibit.

“Yes, I’ve already told you—it’s mine. Now give it back, Yu Jimin!” Minjeong lunged forward, reaching for it, but Jimin deftly sidestepped her like she was dodging a fencing strike.

“I don’t think so, Miss,” Jimin said with a smirk. “It’s not signed. It was in my locker. You’ve got no proof. By law of locker possession, it’s mine now.”

How childish. Minjeong wanted to scream. “Come on, Jimin! I wrote that! I slid it in! I just—I panicked and didn’t double-check the number. That’s not supposed to be for you.”

Jimin’s eyes widened. “I didn’t know you felt that way for me, Miss,” she said. Jimin’s teasing smile never left her lips.

“What?!” Minjeong’s jaw dropped, “Also, stop with the ‘Miss.’ I have a name and it’s Minjeong.”

“I mean, I understand the appeal,” Jimin continued, dramatically tossing her hair. “I’m quirky, mysterious, emotionally unavailable—classic recipe for a high school crush. I just didn’t expect it to be you, Minjeong.”

“It's not for you!”

“Then who is it for?”

Minjeong was taken aback by the question. She finally noticed the hard stares they were receiving. Although everyone was looking at them right now, she caught a very familiar set of eyes just over Jimin’s shoulder.

She didn’t want Minju to know. Not like this.

Minjeong impulsively grabbed Jimin’s wrist and dragged her out of the scene.

“Oh, so we’re in this stage now,” Jimin said with a chuckle as she followed the girl.

“Shut up,” Minjeong said and rolled her eyes.

“I didn’t know you were this aggressive, Minjeongie,” Jimin said as they arrived at a secluded area behind the school building. Minjeong looked around to make sure no one was following them. She finally heaved a sigh and turned to Jimin.

“Minjeongie?”

“Yes… we should at least have endearments for each other now that we’re together. I figured nicknames would suffice for now. Is there anyone else calling you Minjeongie?” Jimin explained, leaning her back on the concrete wall.

Minjeong, who was now standing just in front of her, had her mouth hanging open with furrowed eyebrows.

What the fuck is this girl talking about?

Minjeong was speechless for a couple of minutes. She did not expect this girl to be worse than what she’d heard. “Are you hearing yourself?” Minjeong finally spoke, to which Jimin only chuckled.

“I’m just kidding, Minjeongie. You’re no fun.”

Minjeong groaned in annoyance at the nickname, rubbing her temple. She narrowed her eyes. “What do I have to do to get the letter back?”

Jimin could see how frustrated the girl already was. Her expression softened as she thought of a deal that might end this misery—somehow. Of course, Jimin wouldn’t just hand the envelope over. It was such a beautifully written poem, after all.

“Simple. Tell me who it’s for.”

Minjeong’s feelings for Minju had always been a secret. It took her a couple of years just to tell her friends—which only happened yesterday when Giselle caught her writing the piece. As expected, she told her girlfriend. It wasn’t long before everyone pushed Minjeong to confess, telling her she should at least let it out before they graduate.

Thankfully, Minjeong—who had no experience writing anything romantic—had Giselle. She was practically a walking poetry anthology. She offered to help, and it didn’t take long to finish the letter.

Minjeong bit her lower lip as she considered Jimin’s suggestion.

Oh, what is there even to consider? She couldn’t just let a stranger keep the only poem she’d ever written in her life.

“Okay,” Minjeong sighed in defeat. “I’ll tell you.”

Jimin raised a brow. “Wise choice, Miss Minjeong.”

“Like I have any other choice,” Minjeong mumbled before once again trying to snatch it, but Jimin was quick to retract her hand.

“Oh no, Minjeongie. You tell me first.” Jimin backed a bit and held onto the letter a little tighter.

“Fine… it’s Minju,” Minjeong said in a whisper.

“Minju?” Jimin parroted. “Fencing Minju?”

Minjeong gave a reluctant nod. Her face was crimson now, and she stared at the floor like she could sink into it.

“Huh,” Jimin muttered. “What do you even see in her? She literally uses her sport to skip class.”

“She’s excused, Jimin.”

“Whatever. If I had a blade and a fancy uniform, maybe I’d get excused, too.”

Minjeong sighed. “It’s not the same thing.”

“It is.”

“You’re unbelievable.”

“I get that a lot.”

Minjeong stepped back and held out her hand. “Can I please have the envelope now?”

Jimin tilted her head, looked at the letter, then back at Minjeong.

“No.”

“WHAT?!”

“Yet!” Jimin chirped. “I’m not giving it back yet.”

Minjeong looked like she might combust. “That wasn’t the deal.”

“You didn’t let me finish the deal,” Jimin said smugly. “I‘ll help you get your girl. In exchange, I get to keep the letter until she confesses back.”

Minjeong stared. “That wasn’t part of—" Minjeong paused and instead, closed her eyes and inhaled deeply. God, I want to commit murder right now.

“Take it or leave it. I can also just keep it forever. Make it my lullaby,” Jimin shrugged, already humming a random tune.

Minjeong groaned. “Why are you like this?”

“Because I’m bored,” Jimin confessed cheerfully. “I’ve already broken every rule in the handbook. I need something new. Watching you trip over your own emotions sounds like delightful entertainment.”

It was kind of the truth. Jimin was bored and was running out of tricks to pull. She had broken nearly every minor school rule like it was a scavenger hunt. She once told herself she’d pull the ultimate senior-year prank, but a few months had already gone by with nothing exciting.

Maybe hanging onto Minjeong’s love story like it was her own personal puppet show would change that.

Minjeong pinched the bridge of her nose. This was hell. This was karma. This was—

“Fine,” she said through gritted teeth. “What’s your plan?”

Jimin smirked. Minjeong’s eyes gave her away—curious. No, desperate. She was far too easy to read. Jimin might actually have more fun than she originally expected.

“Simple. Just follow my lead.”

Minjeong blinked at her. “That’s your plan?”

Jimin shrugged. “Yup. Follow my lead. Easy.”

Easy. The word echoed in Minjeong’s head.

Was anything about this easy?

She crossed her arms tightly. A soft breeze tousled her hair. Despite Jimin standing right there, she suddenly felt alone in the chaos of it all. Maybe it was the teasing. Maybe it was because she just confessed her deepest secret to the school’s biggest walking contradiction.

This was a bad plan.

A really bad plan. A horrible, terrible, and dreadful plan.

Jimin was chaos incarnate. The girl couldn’t be trusted. And now she had leverage.

Minjeong sighed. If she walked away now, Jimin might never give that letter back. Or worse—read it out loud. In public.

No. She had to salvage whatever control she had left.

“I can see the gears turning in your head,” Jimin said, watching her. “Just say yes already. We’re going to have so much fun.”

“I’m not doing this for fun,” Minjeong muttered.

“Sure, sure,” Jimin grinned. “You’re doing this for love. Same thing.”

“It’s not the same thing.”

“It will be once we get Minju to fall for you.”

“You make it sound like it’s guaranteed.”

“It is a guarantee. Have you met me?”

No. And I would’ve never associated myself with you. Minjeong wanted to scream. She, instead, rolled her eyes and looked away, staring at the students in the distance. Maybe this was her last option. She was already in too deep.

“Fine,” she said. “But if this goes wrong, I’ll turn this into your funeral.”

Jimin grinned wider than ever. “Then I guess we’d better make it one to remember.”

Chapter Text

That day was particularly long for Minjeong.

As soon as she got inside the apartment, she went straight to her room and dropped her bag by the door. The girl immediately slumped in her bed, letting her back fall into the mattress, not minding the fact that she was still in her school uniform. Her eyes met the ceiling in a vacant stare. No sound, no movement—just her and the weight of today.

And Jimin.

That damned smug look on her face crept into her mind, ruining the stillness that blanketed the room. Minjeong groaned and turned onto her side, pressing her face into the pillow. Why did she say yes? Why did she trust Jimin of all people?

Their conversation played again like a broken record.

“Since we’re classmates, I could easily keep tabs on her for you. You two don’t seem to talk a lot now, right? Based on your story, it’s quite risky to tell her how you feel right now,” Jimin had said, crossing her arms like she’d just solved an unsolvable equation. “You don’t even know how she feels about you. I’m pretty sure you don’t want to get rejected. I mean, Minju’s nice, quite a catch actually.” 

She smirked and coughed into her hand, “Not as good as me, though.”

Minjeong had grimaced at that part.

“Anyway! Confessing might also risk your friendship. If you do get rejected—” Jimin paused as Minjeong bit her inner lip and averted her gaze, “—things might get awkward for the both of you. But hey, this is why I’m here. Until you’re actually ready to confess and live happily ever after with your crush, I’ll make sure to find out her thoughts about you. I’d be more than willing to help you.”

The worst part? She had a point. Jimin was chaotic and annoying, but her logic was oddly sound. Minjeong had never considered the consequences before. She thought the confession would be cathartic—a release. That she’d write a poem, slide it in the locker, and feel lighter.

But now, every second she thought about Minju possibly reading it made her stomach churn.

She was unprepared. Emotionally. Mentally. Her whole idea of “at least I tried” had disintegrated the moment she realized how much she didn’t want to lose what little relationship she had with Minju.

Jimin had caught her off guard. She was supposed to be the logical one, always measured and precise. But now? She had made a mistake. A reckless one. She didn’t even sign the letter. Rookie mistake. Her debate coach would’ve dropped her.

And Jimin?

She picked up on all that in mere minutes.

Minjeong covered her eyes with her forearm and let out a frustrated sigh. Jimin had even said—

“So… what do you say?”

It should’ve been a red flag. Who offers help after blackmailing you?

Minjeong had narrowed her eyes. “Why do you even want to help me?”

“I don’t know. I’m bored, I guess? I think I want to keep the poem as well. That is… if you don’t want to accept my very kind offer.”

Kind? That wasn’t kindness. That was manipulation with glitter on top. And yet, she said yes. Because what choice did she have? The letter and poem was personal, embarrassingly so. It was her first attempt at writing something straight from her chest—raw, unfiltered.

She couldn’t let someone like Jimin run around with that kind of power.

“Scumbag,” Minjeong muttered into her pillow.

Still, a small, traitorous part of her brain whispered: What if she really helps you? What if it works?

She sat up and rubbed her face. Her thoughts were spiraling. She needed to move.

Dragging her feet toward the bathroom, she changed into her pajamas. The sticky feel of the day clung to her like guilt. After, she headed to the kitchen, tying her apron and rummaging through the fridge. The cold air cooled her skin, but not her thoughts.

Then she heard it—the door unlocking after a passcode was entered.

“I’ll be off now,” a familiar voice said. Minjeong peeked her head out just in time to see her roommate get a quick kiss before her girlfriend left. “Text me once you get home safely!”

The door clicked shut.

“Good evening, Minjeong-ah,” came the gentle voice that followed.

“Good evening, Aeri-chan,” Minjeong replied, dragging out the nickname Giselle would often use. She smirked when she saw Giselle blush. Predictable.

Giselle set her bag down and walked over. “What’s for dinner?”

Minjeong shrugged and stared at the vegetables she laid out.  “I don’t really know... you’re the chef here.”

Giselle laughed softly. It was a comforting sound. Familiar. 

“Alright,” the girl said as she tied her apron around her waist. “Hand me that knife.”

Minjeong watched her for a moment. The way she moved around the kitchen with practiced ease, smiling despite being tired from school, made something ache inside her. She wanted that. Not just the relationship—though it wouldn’t hurt—but that sense of calm certainty.

She wondered if Giselle ever made reckless choices for love. Somehow, she doubted it.

And yet, Minjeong thought, here I am, dragging myself into a deal with Jimin of all people.

It was a bad plan. She knew that. Jimin wasn’t trustworthy. She bent rules like spoons and made trouble like it was a full-time job. There was a reason people only approached her when they had nothing to lose.

But Minjeong had everything to lose. Her feelings. Her poem. Her dignity.

Still, the worst part was—she was curious. Just a little.

What would Jimin do?

What would she say to Minju?

And why did it bother her that Jimin seemed to enjoy this so much?

Minjeong shook her head. She was probably just projecting.

But even as she and Ningning cooked dinner in relative peace, Jimin’s face kept sneaking into her mind’s eye—grinning like she knew something Minjeong didn’t.

And that terrified her more than anything.

Minjeong and Giselle were seated across from each other, enjoying the dinner they had both prepared. The apartment was quiet, filled only with the soft clinks of cutlery and the low hum of the refrigerator. It wasn’t an awkward silence—it was the kind that came with routine and comfort, where words weren’t needed to fill the space.

Giselle usually came home later than Minjeong. As a student council member, her days were packed. Whether it was meeting with teachers, organizing events, or double-checking every minor detail in the school's schedule, Giselle was always moving. The other council members respected her for her dedication, but Minjeong often wondered how she kept herself from burning out.

She admired it, really. Giselle was soft-spoken, but firm when needed. Composed. Reliable. Minjeong glanced up at her roommate, who was calmly eating her food like she didn’t have a million responsibilities weighing on her shoulders.

Minjeong, on the other hand, could barely keep her thoughts straight lately.

She sighed inwardly and turned her attention back to her plate.

Unlike her roommate, Minjeong never liked waking up early. She wasn't lazy—far from it—but mornings just weren’t her time. That’s why she found it hard to completely pity Giselle’s early routine, especially when Ningning always showed up at their door so they could walk to school together. Sometimes she would even join them for breakfast, especially if Giselle caught wind that Minjeong planned to skip it altogether.

Ningning lived far across town, and yet, she never missed a day. Rain or shine, exam week or not. There were times Giselle would protest, telling her to rest more, but Ningning would always show up regardless. Minjeong had seen the arguments, had heard the door click after Ningning left with Giselle grumbling behind her. Still, no matter how annoyed Giselle acted, there was always a softness in her voice when she said goodbye.

It was no secret—they were well-known in school. The dream couple: smart, driven, and hopelessly in sync. Everyone admired them, Minjeong included.

She chewed thoughtfully, pushing the last piece of broccoli across her plate.

If she had even half the luck her friend had in romance, maybe she wouldn’t mind dragging herself out of bed at sunrise either. She’d even make breakfast if it meant having someone like that wait for her outside the door.

The thought made her sigh again, this time audibly.

Giselle didn’t seem to notice. She was now scrolling through her phone, no doubt messaging said girlfriend. Minjeong stood and gathered their plates. “Done?” she asked, nodding toward Giselle’s half-empty dish.

The pink-haired girl gave a small nod, mumbling a quiet thanks as her eyes stayed on the screen.

Minjeong headed to the sink and began washing the dishes. The water was warm, and the act of scrubbing dishes gave her something simple to focus on—something real. It grounded her for a while, until her thoughts inevitably wandered back to the mess she found herself in.

Living with Giselle had become normal to her. They’d been sharing an apartment since their first year. Both of them had come to Seoul for the same reason: to chase dreams bigger than their hometowns. Summer and winter breaks were the only times they saw their families now, and though the homesickness hit hard at first, they had adjusted.

Minjeong remembered the first week vividly. Giselle had been homesick multiple times. Minjeong hadn’t known what to do, so she just sat by her side and stayed quiet. Eventually, things got easier.

They had always been determined. Minjeong especially. She had one goal: to get into the best law school she could. That single ambition had driven her through everything—deadlines, debates, papers stacked higher than her head. And yet, here she was, distracted beyond belief because of a girl who didn’t even know she existed in that way.

“Jimin…” she muttered under her breath, drying her hands on a cloth.

She still couldn’t believe she had agreed to anything involving her. Her whole life was built around planning and calculated risks, and then Jimin barged in and ripped the steering wheel right out of her hands.

Minjeong shook her head.

She walked past the living room and towards her room. “I’m heading to bed now.”

“Oh? You don’t have any homework?” Giselle looked up from her phone, tilting her head slightly.

“No. If only you knew what happened today. I’m so tired,” Minjeong replied, dragging her feet toward the hallway.

“Okay, then. Good night, Minjeong-ah.” Ganyu giggled lightly, assuming it was just another stressful school day.

“Don’t go overtime chatting with Baobao again!” Minjeong smirked to herself as she shut her door behind her.

That blush on Giselle’s face was almost instant—just hearing Ningning’s name always did that to her. They’d been together for a long time now, but Giselle still reacted like a girl nursing her first crush.

She flopped onto her bed once more, the day’s weight slamming down on her spine. Her phone buzzed from her bedside table, but she didn’t move. It was probably her friends—asking if she’d retrieved her poem or if Jimin had set it on fire. Either way, she didn’t have the energy to deal with them yet.

She rolled over, staring up at the ceiling. Her eyes drifted across the cracks in the plaster, pretending they were constellations.

Midterms were creeping up. She hadn’t even started reviewing. Her planner was already full, and now she had one more thing penciled in—Deal with Jimin.

What had she gotten herself into?

Her brain swirled with anxious thoughts. She needed to get her life together. She needed to focus. And yet... a part of her couldn’t stop wondering what Jimin was doing right now.

Plotting? Scheming? Laughing her lungs out while making things worse?

Minjeong groaned into her pillow.

She had already agreed to the deal. There was no turning back now.

Chapter Text

“Good news! I have a plan,” Jimin beamed, setting a small carton of chocolate milk in front of Minjeong like it was some grand offering. With a dramatic flair, she threw her bag onto a chair and plopped herself on top of the cafeteria table, swinging her legs freely like a child.

Minjeong stared at the milk, her brow arching before she looked up at Jimin, unimpressed. “What? You don’t like chocolate milk?” the brunette asked innocently.

“No. Could you take a seat like a normal person?” Minjeong replied flatly, arms crossed. She didn’t even try to hide the irritation in her tone. Just the sight of Jimin was enough to ruin her mood some days.

“Suit yourself,” Jimin shrugged, hopping off the table with a light thud. She pulled out a chair and sat across from Minjeong, finally complying—though still with an air of mischief.

They were seated at the farthest corner of the school cafeteria. Hardly any students hung out in this spot, which was perfect for Minjeong. The last thing she wanted was her friends spotting her talking to Jimin and bombarding her with questions she didn’t want to answer. She was still wrapping her head around the accidental love letter fiasco, and the last thing she needed was unsolicited commentary from Yeji or Ryujin.

Still, curiosity had won over hesitation. Minjeong had rushed to meet Jimin after receiving her message, the one that dramatically said she had “Minju-level top-secret intel.”

“As I was saying,” Jimin began, opening her chocolate milk with a pop, “I have a plan.”

Minjeong didn’t get a chance to respond before the scene shifted in her head to something that Jimin had clearly replayed several times already.

Jimin had been dozing off in class again. That much was normal. What wasn’t normal was the sharp smack to her shoulder that jolted her awake.

“Chae, I told you to wake me up when it’s lunchtime. I’ll show myself to detention,” she muttered, rubbing her eyes.

“Wake up, sloth! The teacher said we have to find a partner for a book report,” Yunjin’s voice came through, sharp and unbothered. She smacked Jimin once more for good measure.

The brunette groaned but sat up anyway. Group projects weren’t exactly her thing. She thought they were a waste of time—mainly because she didn’t trust anyone to meet her standards. Or maybe, in reality, she was just bad at them.

But then her eyes found Minju across the room. Talking. Laughing. Smiling.

Suddenly, group work didn’t seem so bad.

With zero hesitation, she approached. “Minju! Congrats, you’ve been chosen to be my partner for this project,” she announced, wedging herself between Minju and Chaewon without shame.

“Sorry, me and Chae—”

“Chae! Didn’t see you there,” Jimin cut Minju off with a faux surprise. “Kazuha said you’d be partners again. You know how our friend there’s… quirky. I was already her partner last time. It’s your turn.”

She gestured toward Kazuha, who sat reading a thick book at the back of the room, looking like she hadn’t moved since the start of class. Chaewon sighed. “It’s okay, Chae. Maybe next time,” Minju said kindly.

“Yes! Next time,” Jimin echoed quickly, beaming as Jean walked away. She turned to Minju and snatched her notebook and pen. “Let’s write our names down and submit our partnership to the teacher, shall we?”

“You made her your book report partner?” Minjeong echoed, blinking back to reality. She glanced at the milk and finally took a sip—not because she wanted it, but because she needed a distraction from the absurdity of Jimin’s story.

Jimin nodded, smug. “I’m such a genius, huh? I should’ve been paid to do this.”

“How is that going to help me?”

“Oh, Minjeongie. I thought you were smart.”

“Stop calling me that.”

“No,” Jimin grinned wider. “Listen. I’m going to squeeze as much information from Minju as I can. This project counts for our midterm, so we’ve got plenty of time. I’ll ask her about you, so you at least know where you stand. I’m basically your personal spy-slash-love-coach. You’re welcome.”

Minjeong opened her mouth to retort, but no words came. “I… didn’t expect that you’d be capable of coming up with something this decent.”

“Decent? This is genius! But, I’ll take that as a compliment too.”

Minjeong groaned. “You’re right, though,” she admitted after a beat. “I know nothing about Minju. The only real conversation we had was about our dreams. She wants to go pro in fencing, and I want to go to law school. That’s it. I don’t know her favorite color or food, or even her middle name.”

She chuckled bitterly. “It’s kind of dumb, isn’t it? Liking someone you barely even know.”

Jimin had begun scribbling something in her notebook. Minjeong squinted. “What are you doing?”

“You were rambling. I’m taking notes,” Jimin said nonchalantly.

Minjeong snatched the notebook from her hands. Her eyes landed on scribbles of her name and Minju’s, random letters crossed out, and the word FLAMES written in bold caps.

“We should know what the universe has to say,” Jimin said with a wink.

Minjeong quickly ripped the page off before anyone else could see it and tossed the notebook back at Jimin, unimpressed and slightly more annoyed. She glanced at her watch. “Afternoon classes are about to start. You should go.”

“Oh, right.” Jimin got up, slinging her bag over one shoulder.

“By the way,” Minjeong added as Jimin turned to leave. “Where did you even get my number?”

“Ningning,” Jimin called over her shoulder and disappeared into the hallway.

Minjeong sighed, adding have a serious talk with Ningning to her already overloaded to-do list.

“I’m still quite surprised and confused as to why you chose me as your partner,” Minju said, slipping her pen into her bag. The final bell had rung minutes ago, signaling the end of classes, but she and Jimin were the last ones to leave the room.

“Nonsense,” Jimin replied breezily, twirling her bag strap around her finger as they walked down the hallway. “I just wanted a new friend. You know how Chaewon’s always busy being president. Giselle and Ningning are glued to their responsibilities— or each other, and Eunchae… well, I’d rather hang out with a rock.”

Minju raised an eyebrow, but let it slide. It wasn’t like she could change her partner now.

“I figured we should start early,” Minju said instead. “Where do you want to work?”

“The library! Obviously,” Jimin grinned. “We need a book, right? Might as well start looking for one”

And so they found themselves seated at a table tucked into the farthest corner of the library, surrounded by stacks of books they’d gathered—each one a different genre, tone, or length. They had been “debating” (read: bickering) for nearly twenty minutes, enough for the librarian to shush them multiple times and give them a stern glare that threatened a lifetime ban.

“Jimin, that’s a comic book,” Minju deadpanned, pointing to the glossy cover her partner was waving around.

“Exactly! It’s thin, easy to read, and we’ll be done in an hour. Think of how much free time we’d have,” Jimin argued, tapping the book like it was a treasure map.

“We’re not allowed to use comics for the report,” Minju reminded her, calmly but firmly. “Let’s just go with one of the teacher’s suggested titles.”

“Fine,” Jimin huffed dramatically. “But you’re doing the heavy writing.”

Minju offered a small, satisfied smile as she opened a thick, leather-bound novel and started reading. Jimin plopped back into her chair with exaggerated effort and cracked open the same book, albeit upside down at first.

For a while, silence reigned—tense but peaceful.

Then, halfway through a paragraph, Jimin lowered her book just enough to peer at her companion. “Hey, Minju. Are you familiar with a girl named Minjeong?”

Minju’s head snapped up like she’d heard a fire alarm. “Minjeong? Yeah. She’s a friend,” she said slowly. “Though… we haven’t talked much lately.”

“How did you two meet?”

“We were classmates during our first year. We got partnered up for a history project,” Minju replied, carefully marking her page with a finger. “She was intimidating at first. So quick to challenge the teacher’s answers. But she’s really smart. It wasn’t hard to work with her. We got a perfect score.”

Jimin nodded, filing that away. “What do you think of her?”

Minju blinked, the question hanging oddly in the air. She set the book aside and leaned forward slightly. “Why are you asking about Minjeong? Wait—” Her eyes narrowed. “Do you like her?”

“What? No! God forbid, never!” Jimin laughed, waving her hand dismissively. “Please. She’s cute and all, but I’m just curious. Maybe she’s the next victim of one of my stunts.”

“That’s awful,” Minju said with a frown. “Don’t mess with her like that, Jimin.”

“Relax,” Jimin said, placing her chin in her hands and pouting exaggeratedly. “I might spare her if you keep answering my questions.”

Minju sighed, giving her a sidelong look. “She’s… nice. Easy to talk to. Fiercely intelligent. The kind of person who speaks her mind without worrying if people will like her less for it. I admire that.”

“She’d make a great girlfriend, right?” Jimin asked, watching Minju closely.

That one hit harder than Minju expected. Her lips parted, but for a moment, nothing came out. Then she looked down and nodded. “I… yeah. Yes. I’m sure she would.”

Jimin grinned, satisfied. “Do you like her?”

“O-Of course I do,” Minju stammered. “She’s a good friend.”

Jimin wasn’t sure if she believed that entirely. The tips of Minju’s ears were turning the softest shade of pink. She made a mental note to report that to Minjeong later.

Deciding to ease the tension, Jimin leaned back in her chair and tilted her head. “Okay then. What’s your favorite food?”

Minju blinked again, thrown off by the sudden shift. “Nothing particular but I enjoy a well balanced Bossam.”

“Nice, nice. What about your favorite color?”

“Am I filling out your slambook now?” Minju asked with a faint smile.

“I did say I wanted a new friend. These are just the basics. C’mon, it’s important to know the essentials.”

Their light chatter continued, shifting topics from colors to favorite subjects, to dream destinations. It was the kind of casual, easy rhythm Jimin had hoped for. Nothing too direct. Nothing too revealing—just enough to make Minju drop her guard a little.

Eventually, the librarian came over and asked—no, ordered—them to pack up. It was almost closing time. They had to return the small mountain of books they’d hoarded, which turned into a chaotic but entertaining task as Jimin dramatically lamented every book she had to give up.

They agreed to read the book individually and reconvene once they were done. Minju waved goodbye politely, but Jimin had a bounce in her step as she exited the building.

That night, after dinner with her grandfather, she jumped onto her bed and reached for her phone. The moment she was done kicking her socks off, she tapped on her screen—speed dial number 2.

The line rang once.

“What?” Minjeong’s annoyed voice answered.

“Don’t you want exclusive info about the girl you like?” Jimin grinned, flopping onto her pillow with a satisfied sigh.

It was going to be a long night.

Chapter Text

“Don’t you want exclusive info about the girl you like?” 

Minjeong didn’t respond immediately, but Jimin could hear the faint rustling of sheets and the quiet sigh that followed. “...What did you find out?”

Jimin sat up, her back against the headboard and her feet dangling off the bed. “Lots,” she said simply. “But I’ll start with the good stuff.”

“Okay… like what?”

“Well,” Jimin began, her tone casual but smug. “Minju thinks you’re smart, easy to talk to, and—wait for it—she said you’d make a great girlfriend.”

A beat of silence stretched between them.

“No, she didn’t.”

“She did!” Jimin grinned. “And her ears turned red when I asked if she liked you. I mean, not definitive evidence, but she was definitely flustered.”

Minjeong made a noise that sounded like disbelief and short-circuited delight rolled into one. “What else?”

“She likes meat— bossam. Her favorite color is white— plain psychotic if you ask me. Oh, and she met you during a history project in your first year. Said you argued with a teacher over a wrongly marked answer. Classic Minjeongie.”

“Stop calling me that.”

“Not happening,” Jimin replied. “Anyway, I’ve got a bunch more to share, but I figured I’d give you a teaser. You free later tonight?”

“For what?”

“To plan the next phase, duh,” Jimin said. “Don’t you want to know her favorite subject, dream vacation, star sign, or middle name?”

Minjeong groaned, but Jimin could practically hear the smile behind it. “Fine. Call me after nine. I have to finish a reading for class first.”

“Yes! Operation Minju is in full swing,” Jimin cheered.

“You’re insane.”

“Insanely helpful,” Jimin corrected, grinning ear to ear.

Minjeong immediately dropped the call.

Her phone slipped from her fingers and landed on her desk with a dull thud, but she barely noticed. Her eyes were fixed on the open casebook in front of her, its highlighted lines now blurred and meaningless.

There was no way she could focus after what Jimin had just said.

Minjeong blinked rapidly and tried—tried—to go back to reading the case summary, but her brain refused to cooperate. Her heart thumped erratically in her chest.

“Does Minju like me back?” she whispered to no one. The thought sounded ridiculous out loud. No—unbelievable.There was no way. Minju, the fencing club president, the ice queen of their campus, harboring feelings for her?

A grin tugged at the corner of her lips. Her cheeks were warm—too warm. Minjeong pressed her palms against them and let out a muffled squeal.

“Oh my god,” she breathed. “I can’t go on like this.”

Without thinking, she slapped both cheeks to snap herself out of it.

Focus. Breathe. Tea. I need tea.

She pushed back from her desk, the wheels of her swivel chair squeaking against the floor as she shot up and rushed toward the kitchen. Her socks skidded on the floor, but she caught herself just in time to spot Giselle standing at the counter, watching water begin to boil.

“Ah, perfect,” Minjeong said, trying to sound casual—composed.

Giselle turned around with a soft smile. “Do you want some tea as well, Minjeong?”

“Yes, please—oh, by the way, did you give Jimin my number?” she asked, brows furrowing.

“My number?” Giselle tilted her head, confused.

“No, my cellphone number. She said she got it from you.”

Giselle blinked. “No… I don’t think I gave her anything—” she paused, thinking. “Wait, maybe… maybe she saw my contacts booklet. I was asked to watch her during detention a few days ago, and I left my things unattended.”

Minjeong’s jaw clenched. “That scumbag…” she muttered under her breath.

“I’m sorry,” Giselle said with a small frown. “Is she bothering you? I should’ve been more careful with that booklet. I’ll keep it hidden next time.”

“Oh no, it’s not your fault, Gi,” Minjeong said quickly. “But maybe you should completely stay away from that girl.”

“You two seem close.”

“What?”

“I mean, she’s always with you lately. She’s rarely in class before, but now she’s been around campus a lot more. Ningning told me people have seen her with you.”

Giselle turned to the girl, “Are you two friends now?”

“No!” Minjeong nearly shouted. “We’re just… purely transactional. She’s helping me with something. That’s all.”

Giselle raised an eyebrow but didn’t press. She simply handed over a cup of warm green tea and smiled.

“Thanks,” Minjeong mumbled, already stepping backward. “I should, um, get back to reading.”

She vanished down the hall before more questions could follow.

Did people really care and talk that much about others in school? Sure, it’s Jimin. She’s quite popular for the worst reasons and Minjeong would never have had any interactions with her if it weren’t for that stupid letter she wrote. 

Minjeong should cut this transaction fast. As soon as she got back to her desk, the girl immediately dialed Jimin’s number

Jimin was quick to pick up, “It’s not even nine, miss me already?” 

“Shut up.”

The following days had been quite repetitive for Minjeong. Her new partner in crime—surprisingly—kept the end of her bargain and was actually doing quite well supplying Minjeong with enough intel for her to squeal from time to time. Some of Minjeong’s favored information came in the form of Minju’s embarrassing childhood experiences. She would often imagine how cute the latter must’ve looked in her little fencing gear, struggling to hold her weapon with both hands.

Jimin, very dedicated to her job, had even acquired photos of the said girl. Minjeong had no clue how she managed to do it—stealth, bribery, divine intervention? She didn’t know. But in that moment, she found herself second-guessing her initial impression of Jimin.

Maybe mistakenly giving Jimin her love letter wasn’t so bad after all. If she had to think of anyone else who could’ve possibly received it, Minjeong doubted they would’ve offered to help—let alone take this much initiative.

Jimin had practically been doing all the work. Not to mention how the girl would quickly come to her aid during lunch breaks, responding faster than Minjeong could wait for her nightly podcast recaps. She’d even bring Minjeong chocolate milk—though she usually took it back for herself halfway through their conversations. Still, the gesture counted.

As for Minju, her initial suspicions regarding Jimin’s weird, random efforts to befriend her were slowly dissipating. She had begun to believe that maybe Jimin was genuinely curious. The questions didn’t bother her as much now—even the ones that suspiciously revolved around a certain blonde-haired girl. She answered them anyway.

Aside from that, they didn’t have any issues with their project. Jimin had been compliant, engaged, and surprisingly focused on their book report. Everyone knew the girl was smart despite her awful disciplinary record, but now Minju could definitely vouch for that. She’d been genuinely impressed by Jimin’s writing and vocabulary.

“I think it’s best if we finish the report a week before the deadline,” Minju said as she typed on her laptop.

The two were seated side by side in the empty classroom, granted quiet time by their teacher. “I’m sure you want to focus on other subjects and the upcoming exams. Plus, we’re almost done.”

“Yeah, we can,” Jimin nodded. “Same time later at the library?”

“Oh, can’t. The club’s having a meeting this afternoon. It’ll take a while. Do you have plans for tomorrow?”

“Nope. I’m pretty much free on a Saturday,” Jimin replied casually, leaning back in her chair, arms behind her head.

“There’s a café I pass by a lot. Just a couple of blocks from here. I don’t usually see a lot of people inside. We could finish the report there,” Minju suggested.

Jimin hummed thoughtfully before nodding. “Sounds good.”

“Great. I’ll text you the time and address,” Minju said, closing her laptop with a small, satisfied click before moving back to her seat.

Jimin was about to lay her head on the desk for the rest of the period when something struck her. Her eyes lit up. A smirk crept onto her lips as an idea began to form—one that made her sit up straighter.

Chapter Text

Saturday afternoon arrived, and a girl was found furiously knocking on an apartment door.

It didn’t take long before a purple-haired girl flung it open with her face scrunched up in annoyance. “Jeez, can’t you fucking wai—Jimin?”

“Ningning?” Jimin blinked. “What are you doing in Minjeong’s apartment?”

“This is my girlfriend’s apartment too, dumbass,” Ningning scowled, crossing her arms over her chest. “What are you doing here?”

Jimin was about to speak when another girl appeared beside Ningning, rubbing her eyes and blinking in surprise.

“Jimin?” Giselle asked sleepily, her soft voice as calm as ever.

“Gi!” Jimin beamed. “Where’s Minjeong?”

“She’s in her room, studying, I think.”

“Nice! Now let me in,” Jimin said before squeezing herself between the two and stepping inside the apartment like she owned the place.

“It’s the door on the right!” Giselle called after her.

Upstairs, Minjeong jumped out of her seat when her bedroom door slammed open. She stood frozen in front of her desk, wide-eyed.

“Jimin?! How did you get in here?”

“Giselle,” Jimin replied nonchalantly, as if the answer were obvious. She strode into the room like she had every right to be there. “I just saw Minju all alone at the café down the street. I think she was stood up.”

Minjeong blinked. Her brain, which had moments ago been filled with formulas and midterm review notes, scrambled to catch up.

“Wait—what? You—what are you doing in my room?!”

“I just told you,” Jimin said, eyes twinkling mischievously. “Don’t you want to be her knight in shining armor or something like that?”

Minjeong opened her mouth to respond, then paused. “How are you even sure she was stood up? Maybe she’s just waiting for someone who’s late.”

Jimin stepped forward, hands resting firmly on Minjeong’s shoulders. “Oh, I’m sure. Trust me.”

Then, with a firm turn, she directed Minjeong toward the bathroom door.

“Go change. Now. I’ll wait outside,” she said with a wink before disappearing just as quickly as she’d arrived.

Minjeong stared at the door, stunned. For a full ten seconds, she didn’t move.

Then panic hit. She dove for her closet, hands digging through hangers and drawers, frantically trying to find the perfect outfit for what might now be considered an impromptu date.

Downstairs, Giselle looked up from the couch as Minjeong descended the stairs, dressed and looking just a little too polished for a casual afternoon hangout.

“Is there something we should know about you two?” she asked, lips curled into a teasing smile.

“Come on, Minjeong, you can do so much better than that,” Ningning added dryly, eyeing Jimin with an unimpressed glance as she held a bowl of popcorn in her lap.

“I seriously don’t know why we’re even friends, Ning,” Jimin shot back.

“We’re not friends, Jimin,” Ningning coldly replied.

“Sure we are! We hang out after class almost every week,” the girl pouted.

“That was detention,” Ningning kept her cold tone. As part of the council, she had been tasked numerous times to watch over a few students during detention.

“That still counts. And no, we are not dating.” Jimin huffed before turning to Minjeong.

“But this girl here,” she grinned, “has a date with the fencing club president-slash-prodigy.”

“Minju?” Giselle raised a brow.

“You really can’t keep your mouth shut, huh?” Minjeong glared at her.

“Oops, sorry. I thought they knew,” Jimin shrugged with a not-so-innocent smile. “Well, too late to take it back now! Go, before you miss her.”

She opened the door wide like, gesturing dramatically for Minjeong to step outside.

Minjeong sighed, both annoyed and giddy. Her heart was racing. She couldn’t quite pin down what she was feeling—nervous? Excited? A little terrified? Maybe all of the above.

She walked out the door with her head held high, trying not to overthink it.

Back in the living room, Jimin flopped onto the couch and wedged herself between Ningning and Giselle without warning.

“So… what are we watching?” she asked cheerfully, already reaching for the popcorn.

“What the—go home, Jimin!” Ningning exclaimed, trying to pry Jimin’s arm off her shoulder.

“Aw, come on. We have never properly hung out!” Jimin pouted.

Giselle giggled softly, watching the scene unfold. Ningning now sat with her arms crossed, glaring at the screen like it owed her something. Despite the annoyance, there was a faint blush on her cheeks—she was never good at hiding when she was flustered.

Truthfully, Giselle didn’t mind Jimin crashing their movie date. Especially not when her girl beside Jimin looked this cute when annoyed.

Chapter Text

“That scumbag, I swear to God,” Minjeong groaned under her breath as she marched down the street, her eyes bouncing between the map Jimin had texted and the café signs around her. The sun was dipping into the horizon, casting long shadows along the pavement, and Minjeong’s nerves were already shot.

She was absolutely not prepared for this.

Just hours ago, her biggest concern had been whether to use highlighters or sticky tabs for her study session. Now, thanks to one very meddlesome Jimin, she was on her way to what could only be described as an ambush-meet-cute with Minju.

She wasn’t even dressed for this. She’d just thrown on the first dress she saw—something white and frilly that made her feel more like a naive romcom protagonist than the composed debater she usually was. Her hair was in its usual lazy weekend state, with just a bit of serum to tame the chaos. She hadn’t even remembered to put on perfume. A small but frustrating detail that gnawed at her as she walked.

Did I at least look okay? Did Minju even like white? Is this going to end up being a complete disaster?

Her thoughts ran circles around each other, nerves tangling tighter with every step until she finally found herself in front of the café. It was small, almost hidden between two convenience stores, with soft golden lighting glowing from the windows. Through the glass, she could see her—Minju—sitting by the window, chin slightly tucked, eyes on her phone.

She looked… alone. And maybe a little unsure.

Minjeong almost frowned. 

Who the hell would stand up someone like Minju? It was absurd. Infuriating. A part of her felt guilty even though she wasn’t the one who had stood her up—well, technically, no one had stood her up, because this whole meeting had been orchestrated by Jimin. Still, Minjeong thought, who’d be dumb enough to let Minju wait like that?

Her phone buzzed. A text from Jimin.

“Good luck! You got this, tiger!”

Minjeong scowled. Tiger? She glanced down at her soft white dress and wrinkled her nose. If anything, she looked like an anxious puppy being led to her first social slaughter. She shoved her phone into her purse, inhaled deeply, and pushed the café door open.

“Minju?” she asked, feigning surprise, like this was the most random, accidental run-in of her life.

The girl in question looked up, clearly startled. “Minjeong?” she echoed, eyes blinking in confusion. “I—I’m actually waiting for—”

“Here’s your vanilla milkshake, ma’am,” a waiter said, interrupting smoothly as he set the drink on the table. The momentary interruption left a silence hanging in the air, and Minjeong awkwardly stood there, unsure of how to pick up the thread again.

“Sorry,” Minju said, clearing her throat. “Do you want to sit?”

“Oh—yes! I mean—do you mind? Weren’t you waiting for someone?” Minjeong asked, her voice slightly too high.

Minju shook her head, wrapping her fingers around the glass and dragging it closer. “No, I don’t think she’s coming. She’s not replying to any of my texts either.” She gave a small shrug and took a sip.

Minjeong, heart fluttering and nerves frayed, took the seat across from her. She was still trying to process the idea that Minju had been waiting for someone. Did Jimin just shove her into someone else's story?

“Do you want to order first? This vanilla milkshake’s good,” Minju offered, already flagging down another waiter.

“Oh, yes! Maybe I’ll have a… chocolate. Thank you,” Minjeong replied. Truthfully, she didn’t even like chocolate that much or milkshakes. She usually preferred something fruity. But lately, a certain someone—whose name rhymed with Yu Jimin—had developed the habit of giving her those little cartons of chocolate milk every break. It had grown on her. A little.

Soon, a second glass arrived and the two were seated comfortably across from each other.

“Sorry, I think I invited you on a whim,” Minju said gently. “Were you busy? Or… waiting for someone too?”

Minjeong shook her head quickly. “No! I mean, I came here alone. I actually live nearby—two streets from here,” she explained, gesturing vaguely in the direction behind her.

Minju’s eyebrows rose a little. “You live this close to school? That’s convenient. Especially with how often we have school stuff going on.”

“Just an apartment I rent with Giselle. We’ve been roommates since our first year,” Minjeong said, her voice finally softening.

“Oh.” Minju smiled. “It’s been a while since we’ve been classmates, hasn’t it? Of course, I couldn’t forget my first project partner who somehow got me an A in history.”

Minjeong giggled. “Are there no good partners in your new class?”

“There still are,” Minju replied, grinning. “But maybe not as witty as you. You almost made our history teacher cry when she gave us that A-minus.”

“That was totally warranted!” Minjeong laughed. “I had all the info to back up our research and footnotes. Footnotes!”

The tension started to melt away. The longer they talked, the easier it became. They chatted about Minjeong’s debate club and the wild, sometimes ridiculous, arguments she’d had with other members. Minju shared stories about her fencing tournaments—awkward missteps, victory moments, and the time her blade almost snapped mid-duel. They laughed more than they’d expected. With every story, the space between them seemed smaller. Natural.

They barely noticed when the sky outside turned dark and the café’s warm light glowed brighter against the creeping darkness.

“You live nearby, right? I’ll walk you home,” Minju said once they stepped out of the café.

“Oh, no! That’s okay. It’s getting late, and you should probably head home,” Minjeong replied quickly. Her brain flashed warning signs about Giselle or her girlfriend spotting them. 

“Nonsense,” Minju said with a soft chuckle. “Tomorrow’s a Sunday. No curfews for me.”

Before Minjeong could argue further, Minju had already started walking in the direction she’d pointed out earlier. She had no choice but to follow, trying hard to keep the giddy smile off her face.

The walk was quiet, but not uncomfortable. The night air was cool, and their footsteps echoed softly against the pavement. Minjeong kept stealing glances at Minju, who seemed so calm and composed, her expression unreadable but gentle.

Meanwhile, Minjeong was certain her face was broadcasting every thought and every flutter of excitement in her chest— thank God it was nighttime and the darkness had concealed the blushing mess.

Eventually, they reached her apartment building.

“This is me,” Minjeong said, stopping by the door. “Thank you… for walking me.”

“No worries,” Minju replied. “At least I know you got home safe.”

There was a moment—brief, but undeniably there—where they just stood, eyes lingering, before Minju took a small step back.

“You should go inside. I’ll head out.”

“Yes! Text me when you get home, okay? And really… thank you for today. I had fun.”

“I will,” Minju said with a small smile, before turning and disappearing into the shadows of the street.

Minjeong stepped inside and locked the door, her heart racing.

Did that really just happen?

She leaned her back against the door and felt her knees weaken slightly. That had not been part of the plan. A study day had somehow turned into… what was that? A spontaneous hangout? A surprise date?

Whatever it was, it made her cheeks burn.

She was still trying to make sense of it all when she heard the unmistakable sound of someone clearing their throat. She turned to the sound slowly, eyes narrowing at the figure on the couch.

Jimin.

Wearing an obnoxiously smug smile.

“So… how did it g—”

“WHAT THE ACTUAL FUCK ARE YOU STILL DOING HERE, YU JIMIN?!”

Her scream echoed through the apartment.

Two more heads peeked up from behind the couch. Giselle and her girlfriend, Ningning, both startled.

“Minjeongie, you’re going to wake the neighbors,” Jimin tutted as she stood, that infuriating grin never leaving her face. “Me and my friends were just getting to the third Twilight movie.”

“We’re not friends!” Ningning shouted, arms crossed and glaring at Jimin. She was still salty about Jimin hijacking their movie night.

Jimin chuckled and strolled over, now standing close enough to tower over Minjeong. “So… how’d it go?”

Minjeong, still pink in the cheeks, looked away and tried very hard not to smile.