XOXO

Bae Jinsol had always believed that some people were meant to be background characters in other people’s stories. She had lived comfortably in that role—smirking from the sidelines, speaking when necessary but never too much, never loud enough to be the center of anything. It was easier that way.

And then came Seol Yoona.

The first time Jinsol saw her, the world had the audacity to slow down. It wasn’t fair. No one should look like that in the dim glow of a late autumn afternoon, golden light pooling around them like a secret only they were privy to. Yoona didn’t walk—she moved with purpose, each step measured but effortless, like she was in sync with something bigger than the rest of them. She had the kind of presence that made people glance twice, even if they didn’t know why.

Jinsol knew why.

It was in the way Yoona absentmindedly tucked her hair behind her ear while reading, in the way she leaned against the classroom window during dull lectures, head tilted slightly, like she was waiting for something better. It was in the way she chewed the end of her pen, in the way she tied her shoelaces—tight, efficient, without hesitation. It was in the way she never really laughed, only let out small huffs of amusement that made Jinsol irrationally jealous of whatever had earned them.

Jinsol wanted to be the reason behind one of those rare, real laughs.

But Seol Yoona didn’t notice people like Bae Jinsol. Not in the way Jinsol wanted.

And so, Jinsol did the only thing she could think of. She made herself impossible to ignore.

It started small. A stray comment here, a teasing nudge there. She made it a habit of sitting just close enough to be a nuisance, of stealing answers from Yoona’s worksheet just to hear her sigh in exasperation.

“Are you incapable of thinking for yourself?” Yoona had asked one day, shoving her paper toward Jinsol with a glare.

Jinsol had only grinned, twirling her pen between her fingers. “Why should I, when you do it so well?”

She lived for that sharp inhale, for the way Yoona’s lips parted like she had a retort on the tip of her tongue but wasn’t sure if Jinsol deserved it.

And then there were the lollipops.

Jinsol had noticed it early on—Yoona always had one. Green apple, specifically. She never sucked on them outright, just let them rest between her lips, twirling the stick absentmindedly while she worked.

So Jinsol did what any hopeless idiot with a crush would do. She made it her personal mission to steal them.

It became a game. A silent war waged in between class periods and vending machine visits. Jinsol would swipe the last one, hold it up between her fingers like a trophy, and wait for Yoona’s reaction.

“You are insufferable,” Yoona had gritted out the first time, crossing her arms.

Jinsol had popped the candy into her mouth with an exaggerated hum of satisfaction. “And yet, here you are, talking to me.”

That was the goal, wasn’t it? To keep Yoona looking, to keep her attention tethered even if it was through annoyance.

Jinsol was not a poet. She was not a romantic. She didn’t know the right words to make someone fall for her. But she knew how to make an impression, how to linger in someone's mind long after they wished she would leave.

If she couldn’t have Yoona’s affection, she would settle for irritation.

For now.

There were exactly three things Jinsol knew for certain about Seol Yoona.

One: Yoona hated physics but excelled at it anyway. A cruel irony, really. Jinsol had watched from her usual seat in class as Yoona scowled at every equation, her pencil furiously scratching over her notebook as if she could intimidate the numbers into submission. And yet, when the test results came back, Yoona’s name sat firmly at the top of the grade rankings, as if she had mastered the subject out of spite. Jinsol admired that.

Two: Yoona liked her space. Not metaphorically—though that was probably true too—but physically. She kept a careful, unspoken distance from people. When the classroom got too crowded, she always sat on the edges, never in the middle. When someone leaned in too close, she took a subtle step back, never enough to be rude, but enough to make it clear.

Jinsol ignored that boundary entirely.

And three: Yoona noticed her.

Not in the way Jinsol wanted—never with soft smiles or lingering glances—but it was something. A twitch of an eyebrow when Jinsol spoke, a sigh whenever she appeared beside her locker, a brief glare whenever Jinsol swiped a green apple lollipop from her grasp at the last second.

It was attention. And Jinsol thrived on it.

---

The first time Jinsol sat next to Yoona during lunch, she knew she was testing fate.

“Seat’s taken,” Yoona muttered without looking up, poking at her rice with her chopsticks.

Jinsol plopped down anyway, setting her tray beside Yoona’s with an exaggerated sigh. “Wow. You’d think the person who steals first place in every subject would be a little better at lying.”

Yoona finally looked up, unimpressed. “What do you want?”

Jinsol took a bite of her food, chewing thoughtfully before answering. “Just your company.”

Yoona stared at her for a long moment, then went back to her meal, clearly deciding Jinsol wasn’t worth the energy.

Jinsol grinned. She would call that progress.

From that day on, she made it a habit. If Yoona sat near the window in the library, Jinsol would “coincidentally” pick the seat across from her, tapping her pencil against the table until Yoona shot her a glare. If Yoona was walking home alone, Jinsol would fall into step beside her, claiming her bus stop was “sort of” in the same direction. (It wasn’t.) If Yoona grabbed a drink from the vending machine, Jinsol would lean over her shoulder and ask, “Thirsty?” just to be annoying.

And then, of course, there were the lollipops.

It became a daily ritual. Every morning, Jinsol would make sure to get to the vending machine first, swiping the last green apple lollipop before Yoona could. It was predictable, childish even, but Jinsol loved the way Yoona’s brows furrowed every single time, the way she exhaled sharply, as if Jinsol was the biggest inconvenience in her meticulously planned day.

One afternoon, Yoona had had enough.

“You seriously have nothing better to do?” she snapped, arms crossed as Jinsol dangled yet another stolen lollipop between her fingers.

Jinsol smirked. “Nope.”

Yoona huffed, stepping closer until there was barely any space between them. “Give it back.”

Jinsol popped the candy into her mouth instead.

The sharp inhale Yoona took was the highlight of Jinsol’s entire week.

For a second, she thought Yoona might actually hit her. But instead, Yoona just closed her eyes, exhaled, and shook her head.

“You are—” Yoona started, then stopped herself, pressing her fingers to her temple as if Jinsol was a headache she had yet to cure.

Jinsol tilted her head, savoring the taste of victory (and artificial green apple). “I am…?”

Yoona’s eyes flickered back to her, studying her carefully. “Impossible,” she finally muttered, grabbing her bag and walking away.

Jinsol grinned, watching her retreating figure.

Impossible.

Seol Yoona liked to believe she had patience.

She could sit through a two-hour physics lecture without sighing too loudly. She could listen to the cafeteria lady ramble about her grandson’s latest soccer game while waiting for her lunch. She could even tolerate group projects with people who thought “you’re smart, you do it” was an acceptable contribution.

But Bae Jinsol?

Bae Jinsol was a walking, talking test of endurance that Yoona was slowly, steadily failing.

“Yoona,” came the familiar voice, sing-song and annoying. “Yooooona.”

Yoona closed her eyes, mentally counting to three before looking up from her book. Jinsol was standing in front of her desk, wearing the exact expression of someone who had too much free time and zero respect for personal space.

“Jinsol,” Yoona greeted flatly.

Jinsol grinned. “You look extra serious today. Let me guess. You finally realized I’m the love of your life and now you’re having a crisis about it?”

Yoona turned the page of her book without looking up. “More like I’m debating the consequences of homicide.”

Jinsol gasped dramatically, clutching her chest. “You’d kill me? After everything we’ve been through?”

“What have we been through?”

Jinsol perched herself on the edge of Yoona’s desk, completely ignoring the fact that no one invited her. “Months of meaningful eye contact. Heated arguments over stolen lollipops. Long walks home where you pretend you don’t like my company.” She leaned in slightly. “Face it, Yoona. We’re basically soulmates.”

Yoona stared at her, debating if it was worth the effort to push her off the desk. Before she could make a decision, a new voice cut in.

“You two are exhausting.”

Lily, Yoona’s best (and only tolerable) friend, plopped down beside her, giving Jinsol a pointed look. “How do you still have the energy for this? It’s like watching a cat annoy a very tired dog.”

Jinsol gasped again, but this time with glee. “Oh, I love that. Yoona, did you hear that? I’m the cat. You’re the dog. That means you secretly love me, but you’re too grumpy to admit it.”

Lily nodded solemnly. “And one day, you’re going to snap and chase her down the hallway.”

Yoona rubbed her temples. “Both of you. Leave.”

Jinsol, of course, did not leave. If anything, she looked even more pleased. “Come on, Yoona, admit it. Your life would be boring without me.”

“My life would be peaceful without you,” Yoona corrected.

Jinsol shrugged. “Boring. Peaceful. Same thing.” She leaned back slightly, still grinning. “But you put up with me anyway. Why is that?”

Yoona opened her mouth, ready to give a scathing answer, but nothing came out.

Because, to her absolute horror, Jinsol was right.

She did put up with her.

She could have blocked Jinsol out completely, ignored her antics, refused to engage. And yet, here she was, every day, still enduring it.

Lily watched her expectantly, as if she, too, wanted to know the answer to this great mystery.

Yoona sighed.

“I don’t know,” she admitted, and immediately regretted it when Jinsol’s grin turned downright victorious.

“That’s basically a confession,” Jinsol said smugly.

“It’s not.”

“It is, though.”

“It’s really not.”

Lily shook her head. “I feel like I should be getting paid to witness this mess.”

Yoona agreed.

She also had a sinking feeling that, somehow, she was going to keep putting up with Jinsol.

And worse?

She didn’t really mind.

Bae Jinsol didn’t think she was crazy.

Sure, she spent a lot of time talking about Seol Yoona. And yes, maybe—just maybe—she put an unhealthy amount of effort into annoying her just to see her react. But that wasn’t crazy. That was strategy. That was persistence.

That was love.

“Jinsol, you look crazier every time you talk about her.”

Jinsol turned to Haewon, who had just delivered this brutally honest statement without even looking up from her iced coffee.

“What do you mean?” Jinsol asked, blinking in confusion.

Haewon finally looked up, raising an eyebrow. “I mean, you’re literally vibrating right now.”

Jinsol immediately froze, glancing down at her hands. “I am not.”

“You are,” Lily confirmed, not even looking up from her phone. “It’s getting worse.”

Jinsol scoffed, crossing her arms. “I’m not crazy.”

Haewon sighed like she was exhausted just by looking at her. “Jinsol, you spent ten whole minutes yesterday sighing dramatically near Yoona’s locker, hoping she would ask what was wrong.”

Jinsol pointed at her defensively. “That was a tactic.”

Haewon tilted her head. “To what?”

“To get her attention!” Jinsol huffed. “Which, by the way, worked.”

“She told you to stop breathing like a haunted Victorian child,” Lily reminded her.

“Which means she noticed me.” Jinsol grinned. “See? Progress.”

Haewon stared at her, then turned to Lily. “I think we’ve lost her.”

Lily nodded solemnly. “She’s too far gone.”

Jinsol groaned, throwing herself onto the cafeteria table dramatically. “You guys don’t get it. This is a game of patience. Yoona likes it when I annoy her.”

Haewon snorted. “Does she?”

“Yes! Think about it. If she really hated me, she’d ignore me, right? But she doesn’t. She reacts. She glares at me, she sighs, she says my name in that exasperated voice—”

“You mean the voice that sounds like she’s reconsidering her life choices?” Haewon interrupted.

“Exactly! That means she cares!”

Lily finally looked up from her phone. “That means she has the patience of a saint.”

Jinsol flopped back onto the table, groaning dramatically. “You guys are so negative.”

“We’re realistic,” Haewon corrected. “Meanwhile, you? You’re in full clown mode.”

“I’m playing the long game,” Jinsol said confidently.

“The long game to where? A restraining order?”

Before Jinsol could argue, a familiar voice interrupted, making her entire body go stiff.

“Bae Jinsol.”

Her head shot up so fast she nearly gave herself whiplash.

Seol Yoona stood beside their table, arms crossed, looking effortlessly cool (and mildly irritated). Her presence alone had the audacity to make Jinsol’s heart do a stupid little flip.

Yoona glanced between Jinsol and her (very unhelpful) friends before sighing. “…Why do you look guilty?”

“I don’t!” Jinsol said way too quickly.

Lily and Haewon exchanged a look.

Yoona sighed again. “Just… stop stealing my lollipops.”

Jinsol, completely unable to control herself, smirked. “No promises.”

Yoona rolled her eyes but, crucially, didn’t walk away immediately.

Haewon leaned in and whispered, “You’re doing the crazy eyes again.”

Jinsol shoved her off the bench.

The first smack wasn’t surprising.

Bae Jinsol had long accepted that Seol Yoona’s first instinct upon seeing her was violence. The second Yoona spotted her across the field, Jinsol barely had time to say “Hey, gorgeous—” before SMACK. Notebook to the head. Classic. Expected.

It was what came after that truly made history.

Because today, instead of the usual sigh and eye-roll before walking away, Yoona stayed.

And she lectured.

“You—” Yoona started, pointing an accusing finger at Jinsol, “—are the most insufferable person I have ever met in my life.”

Jinsol, still holding her head, grinned. “That’s a strong opener.”

Yoona ignored her, launching into what could only be described as a full-blown monologue of frustration.

“Do you ever stop to think before you do things?” she snapped, pacing in front of Jinsol like a furious teacher dealing with a particularly dumb student. “Do you enjoy making my life harder? Do you have any concept of boundaries? Any at all?”

Jinsol, as always, had the audacity to look pleased. “Are these rhetorical questions, or…?”

Yoona shot her a glare so sharp it could cut glass. “I swear—”

And she kept going.

For ten full minutes.

Kyujin, who had been sitting nearby, stared in disbelief. “I don’t think I’ve ever heard her talk this much in one go.”

Lily, sipping her juice box, nodded. “She’s really going all out.”

Haewon checked her watch. “Should we time this? Feels like a record.”

Meanwhile, Jinsol stood there, taking it all in with an absolutely criminal smirk on her face. Because while Yoona thought she was punishing her, Jinsol was thriving.

Every sentence—every frustrated sigh, every time Yoona ran a hand through her hair like she was losing her mind—only confirmed one undeniable fact:

Seol Yoona cared.

“—and another thing,” Yoona continued, still pacing, “why do you always steal my lollipops? Do you have some kind of personal vendetta against my happiness? Do you enjoy suffering? Or do you just—”

Jinsol, unable to hold it in any longer, beamed.

Yoona stopped mid-rant. “What.”

“You’re so cute when you’re mad.”

Yoona inhaled sharply like she was gathering all the patience left in her body. “I hate you.”

Jinsol, completely unaffected, grinned. “Hate is a strong word, babe.”

Yoona smacked her again.

Unlike Kyujin, who was tired, Haewon, who was concerned, and Lily, who was just here for the chaos—Kim Jiwoo was a firm believer in the Bae Jinsol and Seol Yoona Agenda.

She didn’t just support them. She was actively, aggressively, unapologetically invested.

This was not a joke to her. This was a mission.

Which is why, after yet another exhausting, mind-numbing, painfully predictable round of:

1. Jinsol doing something dumb.

2. Yoona smacking her.

3. Jinsol grinning like she’d won the lottery.

4. Yoona sighing in frustration but somehow never actually walking away.

—Jiwoo finally had enough.

She clapped her hands together like a coach about to give a halftime speech.

“Alright,” she announced. “When are you two just gonna date already?”

The group went dead silent.

Yoona, who had been in the middle of lecturing Jinsol for stealing her pens (again), froze.

Jinsol, who had been half-listening and half-enjoying the fact that Yoona was looking directly at her, perked up like a dog hearing the word ‘walk’.

“Oh?” Jinsol said, a slow, dangerous smile creeping onto her face. “You think we should date?”

Jiwoo gave her a look like she had just asked if the sun was hot. “I think you will date.”

Yoona blinked. “It’s what?”

“Inevitable,” Jiwoo repeated, nodding sagely. “Like gravity. Or taxes.”

Yoona physically recoiled. “That’s—what? No! That doesn’t even—”

But Jiwoo was on a roll now. She turned to the rest of the group, looking for backup. “Think about it. Yoona, you’re always thinking about her.”

Yoona crossed her arms. “I am not.”

“She’s always finding ways to annoy you.”

“That’s not—”

“You hit her a lot.”

Jinsol wiggled her eyebrows. “Kinda kinky, not gonna lie.”

Yoona smacked her again.

Jiwoo pointed dramatically. “SEE?! That’s practically flirting.”

Kyujin groaned, looking like she was physically in pain. “Jiwoo, please don’t encourage her.”

But Jiwoo wasn’t done. Not even close.

“Yoona, you’re literally the only person Jinsol gives her full attention to for more than five minutes,” she said. Then she turned to Jinsol with an all-knowing smirk. “And you, miss ma’am, are so deep in love it’s actually embarrassing.”

Jinsol gasped. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“Bro, you got hit in the head twice today and called it romance.”

Jinsol pursed her lips. “…I don’t see your point.”

Haewon sighed, rubbing her temples. “Jiwoo, you’re delusional.”

Jiwoo simply crossed her arms. “Okay, but what if I’m right?”

Yoona, still looking like she had been ambushed, groaned. “You’re not.”

Jiwoo grinned. “But what if I am?”

Yoona shot her a glare. “Then I’ll personally come back and haunt you in the afterlife.”

Jiwoo gasped dramatically. “Oh my God. Even your threats sound like a tragic love story.” She turned to the group. “See? This is slow-burn enemies-to-lovers material.”

Kyujin choked. “There is no to lovers part.”

Jiwoo waved her off. “There will be.”

Yoona looked absolutely offended. “We do not act like a couple.”

“You do,” Lily chimed in, still sipping her juice box. “It’s honestly a little scary.”

Kyujin nodded. “It’s like watching a sitcom where the two leads haven’t realized they’re in love yet.”

Haewon sighed. “Like, a really slow, painfully obvious one.”

Jinsol, thrilled by this development, turned to Yoona with a smirk. “So… what I’m hearing is that we’re a classic romance duo.”

Yoona groaned, rubbing her temples like this conversation was actively draining her soul. “I hate all of you.”

Jiwoo patted her shoulder sympathetically. “It’s okay, Yoona. Denial is just the first step.”

Yoona turned to her with murderous intent in her eyes.

Jiwoo grinned. Mission: Accomplished.

Seol Yoona prided herself on being a rational person.

She didn’t start unnecessary fights. She handled things maturely. She liked peace. Stability. She was the type to sit back, think logically, and keep her emotions in check.

But then—

Then there was Bae Jinsol.

And Jinsol had made it her life’s mission to personally ruin Yoona’s calm, structured existence.

“Yoonaaa~”

Yoona didn’t even turn around. “No.”

Jinsol gasped, clutching her chest dramatically. “You don’t even know what I was gonna say!”

“Yes, I do. And it’s a no.”

Jinsol huffed, jogging to catch up with her in the hallway. “Wow. Rude. And here I thought we had something special.”

Yoona kept walking, refusing to entertain whatever stupidity Jinsol was about to unleash. “We don’t.”

“Lies,” Jinsol shot back, grinning. “According to Jiwoo, we’re a slow-burn romance.”

Yoona stopped walking.

Jinsol smirked, sensing weakness. “Oh? Did I hit a soft spot, babe?”

Yoona turned to her, eyes burning with the kind of exhaustion that came from years of dealing with Jinsol’s existence. “Stop calling me babe.”

“Aw, come on,” Jinsol said, slinging an arm around her shoulders like this was some kind of rom-com. “Just give in. It’ll be easier for both of us.”

Yoona shoved her off immediately. “There is nothing to give in to.”

“Sure,” Jinsol said, smirking. “That’s why you haven’t walked away yet.”

Yoona hated how Jinsol always did this. Always pushed just enough to make it seem like she was the unreasonable one. Always got under her skin. Always said exactly the right thing to make her lose her mind just a little bit.

She inhaled deeply, summoning what little patience she had left. Then, she turned and started walking again.

Jinsol, of course, followed like a lost puppy.

“So,” Jinsol continued, hands in her pockets, voice light like she wasn’t absolutely terrorizing Yoona’s life, “do you think if I actually confessed, Jiwoo would throw a parade?”

Yoona almost tripped.

“What.”

Jinsol laughed. “I mean, we might as well give her what she wants, right? Imagine the drama. The romance. The cinematic tension.”

Yoona whipped around and smacked her with her notebook. Again.

Jinsol stumbled back, laughing like a lunatic. “I’ll take that as a ‘yes.’”

Yoona pressed her fingers against her temples. “I hate you.”

Jinsol, completely unaffected, grinned. “You love me. You just don’t know it yet.”

Yoona sighed. “If I push you down the stairs, will that make you shut up?”

“Maybe,” Jinsol said. “Or maybe you’ll have to visit me in the hospital, where I’ll dramatically whisper, ‘Yoona… before I die… know that I’ve always loved you.’”

Yoona clenched her jaw so tightly she thought her teeth might break.

“Should I practice?” Jinsol asked, clutching her chest dramatically. “‘Ah, Yoona… my dearest…’”

Yoona smacked her again.

Jinsol only laughed harder.

Just as Yoona was about to strangle Jinsol in the middle of the hallway, a voice cut through the air.

“Bae Jinsol! Seol Yoona!”

They both turned, and standing a few feet away was Mr. Kang, their history teacher. He had the kind of expression that said, I don’t want to be here either, but unfortunately, I have a job to do.

Yoona immediately straightened, trying to look as responsible as possible. “Yes, sir?”

Beside her, Jinsol slouched slightly, hands in her pockets. “Uh-oh. Are we in trouble?”

Yoona gave her a look. “What do you mean ‘we’?”

Mr. Kang sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose like just looking at them was giving him a headache. “No. Not yet, at least.”

Jinsol grinned. “Well, that’s a relief.”

Yoona subtly elbowed her in the ribs. Don’t push it.

Mr. Kang exhaled and crossed his arms. “The student council is setting up the gym for tomorrow’s event, and they need extra hands. Since you two clearly have enough energy to cause problems in the hallway, you can put it to better use elsewhere.”

Yoona internally groaned. Of course. Because her day wasn’t already exhausting enough.

Jinsol, however, just shrugged. “Eh. Could be worse.”

Yoona side-eyed her. “How?”

“We could actually be in trouble.”

“…Fair point.”

Mr. Kang turned on his heel, already walking. “Follow me. And try not to destroy anything while you’re at it.”

They followed him down the hall, and as soon as they were out of earshot, Jinsol nudged Yoona.

“Hey.”

Yoona didn’t look at her. “What.”

“I bet you five bucks I’ll finish my part of the work before you do.”

Yoona snorted. “You? Finishing work? That’s the funniest thing I’ve heard all day.”

Jinsol gasped, clutching her chest. “You wound me.”

Yoona rolled her eyes. “Fine. You’re on. But when you lose, I want my five dollars in cash.”

Jinsol grinned. “Deal.”

When they arrived, the gym was already a mess. Chairs, banners, and equipment were scattered everywhere, and the student council members were visibly stressed.

A familiar voice called out. “Oh, great. You two.”

Yoona turned to see Haewon standing near a pile of decorations, arms crossed, eyes filled with the usual mix of judgment and regret.

Jinsol grinned. “Wow, Haewon. So much warmth in your welcome.”

Haewon deadpanned. “I didn’t invite you.”

Mr. Kang clapped his hands. “Alright, they’re here to help. Assign them something before they start annoying me.”

Before either of them could protest, Mr. Kang was already walking out.

Leaving them completely at the mercy of the student council.

Haewon exhaled through her nose and picked up a clipboard. “Okay. Jinsol, go help Kyujin set up the chairs. Yoona, help Lily and Jiwoo with the banners.”

Jinsol and Yoona exchanged a glance.

Jinsol smirked. “Race you.”

Yoona narrowed her eyes. “You are so annoying.”

Jinsol grinned. “And yet you haven’t walked away.”

Yoona took a deep breath, turned around, and chose to ignore her.

For now.

The gym was a mess of movement and noise.

People were rushing around, setting up chairs, taping banners, and moving decorations, all while trying not to lose their minds. Somewhere in the chaos, Jiwoo was very animatedly explaining why this event was an “important moment for school unity and romantic fate,” much to Haewon’s visible exhaustion.

And Yoona—

Yoona was just trying to survive.

Balancing on a chair, she stretched her arms above her head, trying to smooth out a banner that refused to stay in place.

“This is so annoying,” she muttered, adjusting the tape. “Lily, pass me the—”

WHAP.

Before she even finished her sentence, a roll of tape came flying toward her face.

“Lily, warn me first!” Yoona yelped, scrambling to catch it.

And that’s when it happened.

Her foot slipped. The chair wobbled. Gravity betrayed her.

Before she could even process the disaster unfolding, she was falling.

The banner tangled around her arms. The world blurred. And then—

THUD.

Yoona hit the floor hard, the impact rattling through her bones.

For a second, everything was silent.

Then—

“YOONA?!”

A rush of movement. A blur of black and white sneakers. A sharp gasp from someone across the gym.

And suddenly, Bae Jinsol was right there.

She had been on the other side of the gym, helping Kyujin with chairs. But the moment she heard the fall, before she even thought about it, she ran.

Fast.

Kyujin, an actual trained athlete, barely even saw her move. “Holy—”

By the time anyone else reacted, Jinsol was already crouched next to Yoona, her hands hovering over her arms like she wasn’t sure where to check first.

“Yoona.” Her voice was low, serious. No teasing, no jokes. “Hey. Can you hear me?”

Yoona blinked up at the ceiling, her head still spinning. “Ugh… what just happened?”

“You fell.” Lily’s voice chimed in unhelpfully from the side.

Yoona groaned, trying to sit up. The second she moved, Jinsol’s hands were on her shoulders, stopping her.

“Wait,” Jinsol said firmly. “Don’t move too fast.”

Yoona blinked.

Because Jinsol looked—

She looked genuinely worried.

No smirk, no teasing glint in her eyes. Just pure concern.

That was… strange.

Lily, Jiwoo, and Kyujin all exchanged glances, watching the scene unfold.

“I think she’s fine,” Lily finally said.

Jinsol ignored her. She was still looking at Yoona. “Where does it hurt?”

Yoona swallowed, feeling strangely hyperaware of Jinsol’s gaze on her. “My elbow, mostly,” she admitted.

Jinsol carefully reached out, gently taking Yoona’s arm in her hands.

Yoona almost pulled back on instinct. But Jinsol’s grip was careful, steady—not casual like it usually was when she slung an arm around her shoulders to be annoying.

This was different.

“…It’s not swollen,” Jinsol muttered after a moment, running her thumb lightly over Yoona’s sleeve. “You probably just bruised it.”

Yoona, for some reason, couldn’t think of a single normal response.

“Uh,” she said instead. “Okay.”

Jinsol exhaled, sitting back slightly. “You scared the hell out of me for a second.”

Yoona blinked at her. “You? Scared?”

Jinsol scowled. “I’m not made of stone, Yoona. You fell off a chair. Forgive me for assuming you might’ve broken your neck.”

Jiwoo sensed an opportunity.

“Ohhhh,” she breathed dramatically. “Look at this. Look at this concern.”

Jinsol shot her a glare. “Jiwoo. Shut.”

Jiwoo smirked. “You ran across the gym so fast. Like—like some action movie lead who sees their partner get shot.”

“I did not—”

Kyujin, still watching in mild awe, spoke up. “No, but seriously. I’ve seen you train, but I don’t think I’ve ever seen you move that fast off the track.”

Jinsol groaned. “I panicked, okay?”

Yoona, watching all of this, felt something oddly warm settle in her chest.

Because Jinsol—annoying, impossible, insufferable Jinsol—had dropped everything and ran straight to her.

Before logic. Before hesitation. Before anything else.

And Yoona didn’t really know what to do with that information.

Jinsol cleared her throat, standing up quickly. “Anyway,” she muttered, rubbing the back of her neck. “You’re not dead, so… great. My job here is done.”

Yoona raised an eyebrow. “Your job?”

Jinsol looked at literally anything except her. “Yeah. Making sure you’re still breathing.”

Yoona rolled her eyes, pushing herself up—only for Jinsol to immediately hold out a hand.

For a second, Yoona hesitated.

Then—

She took it.

Jinsol pulled her up easily, steadying her before she could lose her balance.

Jiwoo gasped. “HAND-HOLDING?!?!”

Jinsol immediately dropped Yoona’s hand like it was on fire.

Yoona scoffed. “Jiwoo, for the love of—”

But Jiwoo was already grinning like she’d won the lottery. “I knew it,” she said smugly.

Jinsol actually looked like she wanted to fling her across the gym. “Jiwoo. I am begging you to shut up.”

Kyujin shook her head in disbelief. “This is somehow more exhausting than training.”

Haewon, who had just arrived to check the progress, took one look at the scene and sighed. “I don’t even want to know.”

Yoona, still standing beside Jinsol, glanced at her out of the corner of her eye.

Jinsol wasn’t looking at her.

But her hands were still clenched—like she was still remembering the feeling of Yoona falling.

And for the first time, Yoona wondered if maybe—just maybe—Jinsol wasn’t always as unserious as she seemed.

The night sky was quiet.

The school event had ended hours ago, and most students had already gone home. The gym, once filled with noise and movement, was now dimly lit and silent—just a few scattered pieces of decoration left to be cleaned up.

Yoona sat on the bleachers, staring blankly at her phone.

It’s late.

She should be going home.

She should have left with everyone else.

But she didn’t move.

Didn’t want to move.

The idea of stepping through her front door, of hearing the silence before the storm, of feeling that suffocating weight settle on her chest the second she entered—

No.

Not yet.

She exhaled, rubbing her temples.

“Still here?”

She looked up.

Jinsol stood near the entrance, hands in her pockets, head tilted slightly. Not mocking, not teasing—just watching.

Yoona forced a small shrug. “Yeah. Just needed some air.”

Jinsol didn’t reply right away.

Then—

“Liar.”

Yoona froze.

Jinsol walked over, her usual lazy stride slower this time. When she reached the bottom of the bleachers, she hesitated—like she wasn’t sure if she should climb up or give Yoona space.

“…You don’t like going home, do you?”

Yoona’s throat tightened.

Jinsol said it so casually—not accusing, not prying. Just stating a fact.

As if she had known for a long time.

Yoona looked away. “That’s a weird thing to ask.”

Jinsol hummed. “Not really.”

Yoona clenched her jaw. “I just like being at school, that’s all.”

“Liar,” Jinsol said again, softer this time.

Yoona exhaled through her nose. “Could you stop saying that?”

Jinsol leaned against the railing, looking up at her. “Then tell me the truth.”

Yoona opened her mouth.

Then closed it.

She didn’t want to talk about it.

Didn’t want Jinsol—loud, ridiculous, always-in-her-space Jinsol—to suddenly be looking at her like this. Like she understood.

But Jinsol didn’t push.

She just stood there, waiting.

And maybe that was worse.

Yoona swallowed, gripping the edge of the bleacher. “…I don’t like being there.”

Jinsol nodded slightly, as if she had already known that answer. “Yeah. I figured.”

Yoona let out a bitter laugh. “What, am I that obvious?”

Jinsol shrugged. “You never rush home. You always volunteer for late clean-ups. And you get this look in your eyes whenever people talk about their families like it’s the easiest thing in the world.”

Yoona’s fingers tightened.

She hated that Jinsol had noticed.

Hated that, out of all people, she was the one seeing through her.

Jinsol shifted her weight. “Is it bad?”

Yoona hesitated.

Then, quietly—

“…Sometimes.”

Jinsol’s jaw tensed.

She didn’t ask for details. Didn’t press.

But something in her changed.

After a moment, she exhaled, shoving her hands deeper into her pockets. “Alright.”

Yoona blinked. “What?”

Jinsol tilted her head toward the door. “Come on.”

Yoona frowned. “Where?”

Jinsol rolled her eyes. “Somewhere that isn’t here.”

Yoona stared at her. “Jinsol—”

“Look.” Jinsol ran a hand through her hair. “You don’t wanna go home. I get it. And I can’t… I mean, I can’t fix that. But I’m not gonna leave you sitting here by yourself either.”

Yoona hesitated.

For so long, she had gotten used to hiding. Pretending. Finding ways to stay out late without raising suspicion.

But this—this was new.

Someone noticing.

Someone choosing to stay.

Yoona swallowed. “You don’t have to do this.”

Jinsol gave a small, lopsided smile. “I know.”

A pause.

Then, finally—

Yoona stood.

And for the first time in a long time, she didn’t feel entirely alone.

Jinsol didn’t say much as they walked.

She kept her hands shoved in her pockets, her steps easy and unhurried, but she never let Yoona lag too far behind. Every time Yoona slowed down, Jinsol did too—like some silent reassurance that she wasn’t in a rush to leave her alone.

Yoona didn’t ask where they were going.

She figured it out the moment they turned onto a quieter street, where the buildings looked a little older but well-loved, and the air smelled like something warm and familiar.

Jinsol led her up the steps of a cozy-looking house, stopping in front of the door before glancing at her. “Uh. My grandma might get a little excited. Just warning you.”

Yoona blinked. “Excited?”

Jinsol didn’t explain. She just pushed the door open.

The second they stepped inside—

“Oh, my sweet girl! You’re home late again—Oh?”

A small elderly woman peeked out from the kitchen, her face instantly brightening at the sight of Jinsol. She wore a cozy sweater, her graying hair neatly pinned up, and her hands were dusted with flour, as if she had been baking.

Then she noticed Yoona.

Her eyes widened.

“Oh, my goodness! You brought a friend?!”

Before Yoona could even react, the older woman hurried over, wiping her hands on her apron before gently cupping Yoona’s face.

“Look at you! You’re so pretty! Oh, but you look tired, my dear. Have you eaten? You must be freezing! Jinsol, why didn’t you tell me you were bringing someone? I would have made something special!”

Yoona blinked rapidly, caught completely off guard.

Jinsol groaned. “Grandma, give her some space—”

“Nonsense!” The woman beamed, patting Yoona’s cheek affectionately before finally stepping back. “It’s not often my Jinsol brings people home. What’s your name, sweetheart?”

Yoona opened her mouth. Then closed it.

She was…

She was not used to this.

The warmth. The easy affection. The way Jinsol’s grandmother looked at her like she had always belonged here.

Jinsol nudged her gently. “Yoona. This is my grandma.”

Yoona swallowed. “Uh. H-hello.”

Jinsol’s grandma clasped her hands together. “Oh, she’s polite! Jinsol, you should take notes.”

Jinsol groaned louder. “Grandma—”

But Yoona…

Yoona just stared at the older woman, feeling something strange rise in her chest.

She didn’t know how to describe it.

It was the way the house smelled like home-cooked meals and warmth. The way the lights were soft and golden, not harsh or cold. The way Jinsol—who was always causing trouble, always running her mouth—suddenly looked smaller, like a granddaughter who didn’t mind being doted on.

And most of all—

It was the way Jinsol’s grandmother made her feel welcome without hesitation.

Like Yoona wasn’t just a guest.

Like she wasn’t an inconvenience.

Jinsol’s grandma grabbed her hand, squeezing gently. “Come, come! Sit down! I’ll get you something warm to drink. Have you had dinner?”

Yoona hesitated. “I—”

“No matter! I’ll make something anyway.” She turned to Jinsol. “Set the table, dear.”

Jinsol sighed but obeyed without protest, leading Yoona to the small but cozy dining table.

And for the first time in a long time—

Yoona felt like she was allowed to stay.

Yoona sat stiffly at the dining table, her hands curled around the warm cup of tea Jinsol’s grandmother had placed in front of her. The cup was small and delicate, its steam curling into the air, carrying the scent of ginger and honey.

Across from her, Jinsol looked completely at ease, stretching her arms before slumping lazily into her chair. It was such a contrast to the way Yoona felt—like a stranger who had accidentally stepped into something too soft for her hands to hold.

The kitchen was small but warm, filled with the quiet sounds of home. The occasional clatter of dishes. The bubbling of a pot on the stove. The rhythmic tap of Jinsol’s grandmother chopping something on a wooden board.

Jinsol’s grandmother had refused to take no for an answer when she declared she was making something for Yoona to eat.

“You’re too thin, dear,” she had tutted, waving off any protests. “You need something warm in your stomach.”

Yoona wasn’t used to this.

Wasn’t used to someone noticing if she had eaten or not. Wasn’t used to the sound of someone humming while cooking, like it was a comfort instead of a duty.

It made her feel restless.

Like she shouldn’t be here.

Like if she got too comfortable, this might slip away, too.

She lowered her gaze, stirring the tea slowly.

Jinsol, watching her, sighed. “Yoona. Relax.”

Yoona frowned. “I am relaxed.”

Jinsol gave her a look. “You’re sitting like you just got caught committing a crime.”

Yoona huffed. “I just… don’t usually do this.”

Jinsol raised an eyebrow. “Eat?”

Yoona kicked her under the table.

Jinsol yelped. “Ow—okay, okay, jeez. No need for violence.”

Yoona rolled her eyes, but a tiny smile tugged at the corner of her lips.

Jinsol’s grandmother turned from the stove, glancing at them with amusement. “You two must be close.”

Jinsol nearly choked on air. “What?! No, she—Yoona hates me.”

Yoona hummed, sipping her tea. “That’s true.”

Jinsol gasped. “You could’ve at least denied it a little.”

Yoona smirked.

Jinsol’s grandmother only laughed, shaking her head. “Oh, dear. That’s how you know someone cares.”

Yoona’s smirk faltered.

She looked down at her tea, suddenly unsure what to say.

Jinsol noticed.

But—for once—she didn’t tease.

Instead, she tapped her fingers against the table, changing the subject. “Grandma, please tell me you didn’t put anything weird in the food this time.”

“Define ‘weird,’ dear.”

Jinsol paled.

Yoona let out a small chuckle, shaking her head. It was so easy—so simple, the way Jinsol could complain and joke with her grandmother like this.

Like home wasn’t something complicated.

Like it didn’t have to hurt.

A few minutes later, a steaming bowl was placed in front of her.

Simple rice porridge, topped with thinly sliced green onions and shredded chicken, a soft-boiled egg nestled in the center. The smell was rich, comforting.

“Eat while it’s warm,” Jinsol’s grandmother said kindly, patting Yoona’s shoulder before sitting down.

Yoona hesitated.

Not because she didn’t want it—but because she did.

Because this was different.

Because no one had ever made something just for her like this before.

She swallowed and picked up her spoon.

And the moment she took her first bite, warmth spread through her chest.

Jinsol watched her carefully. “Good?”

Yoona nodded.

Jinsol’s grandmother beamed. “Eat as much as you want, dear. You’re always welcome here.”

Yoona paused.

Then, quietly—

“…Thank you.”

Jinsol’s grandmother just smiled, as if it was the easiest thing in the world.

And for the first time in a long time, Yoona felt like maybe it didn’t have to be so hard after all.

Jinsol’s room was smaller than Yoona expected.

Not in a bad way—just… lived in. There were posters on the walls, some slightly crooked, probably stuck up in a hurry. A shelf stacked with random books and sports trophies. A desk cluttered with notes, candy wrappers, and what looked like a broken stopwatch.

And on the far side—

A bed that was messy but warm-looking, blankets tangled up as if someone had flopped onto it a little too carelessly.

Yoona hovered awkwardly near the door.

Jinsol flopped onto the bed immediately, stretching out with a loud groan. “Ugh, finally. I thought my grandma was never gonna stop feeding you.”

Yoona scoffed, sitting at the edge of the bed. “You act like it was my fault.”

“It was! You kept eating like you hadn’t had a proper meal in days—”

Jinsol stopped.

Yoona stiffened.

For a second, neither of them spoke.

Then, more carefully—

Jinsol sat up. “…You have been eating, right?”

Yoona didn’t answer.

She didn’t need to.

Jinsol sighed, running a hand through her hair. “Damn it, Yoona…”

Yoona looked away. “Can we not—”

And that’s when Jinsol saw it.

The sleeve of Yoona’s sweater had shifted when she moved, revealing a faint but darkening bruise along her wrist. And just above it—a fresh cut, thin but sharp, barely healed.

Jinsol froze.

Yoona immediately yanked her sleeve down, but it was too late.

Jinsol grabbed her wrist gently but firmly. “Yoona.”

Yoona yanked away. “Don’t.”

Jinsol didn’t listen.

She reached forward again, her touch slower this time, almost hesitant. Like she wasn’t sure if Yoona would shove her away completely.

“…Did someone do this to you?”

Yoona’s throat tightened.

She could lie.

She could make a joke. Roll her eyes. Act like she didn’t care.

But something about the way Jinsol was looking at her—not with pity, but with something so serious, so steady—made it harder to ignore.

Yoona swallowed. “It’s nothing.”

Jinsol let out a sharp breath. “Bullshit.”

Yoona’s jaw clenched. “It’s not a big deal—”

Jinsol’s voice was quieter now, but there was no room for argument. “It is to me.”

Yoona inhaled sharply.

Jinsol’s grip on her wrist wasn’t tight.

But it was firm.

And worse—it was careful.

Like she didn’t want to hurt her.

Like she was afraid Yoona was already fragile enough.

Yoona tried to pull away again, but Jinsol wouldn’t let go.

Not forcefully.

Just stubbornly.

Yoona swallowed. “Jinsol.”

Jinsol met her eyes, steady and unflinching. “Yoona.”

A pause.

Then—

Jinsol exhaled, rubbing the back of her neck. “Look, I… I don’t know what to say. I don’t have some perfect speech that’s gonna make everything better.”

Yoona stayed silent.

Jinsol hesitated. Then, quieter—

“But I do know this.”

She looked Yoona right in the eye.

“You’re not alone.”

Yoona’s chest ached.

Something inside her wavered.

She wanted to laugh. To brush it off. To tell Jinsol she was being ridiculous.

But she couldn’t.

Because for once—someone had noticed.

For once—someone had stayed.

Yoona’s fingers curled into her sleeves.

“…I don’t know how to talk about it.”

Jinsol didn’t say anything right away.

Then, gently—

“Then don’t.”

Yoona blinked.

Jinsol shrugged, her grip on Yoona’s wrist finally loosening. “You don’t have to tell me anything. Just… let me be here, okay?”

Yoona inhaled slowly.

She didn’t say yes.

Didn’t say no either.

But for now—

She didn’t pull away.

Jinsol rummaged through a small first-aid kit, her lips pressed into a thin line. The tiny box looked half-used but well-stocked, tucked away in her desk drawer—probably pulled out more times than she’d admit after reckless training sessions.

Yoona sat stiffly on the bed, watching as Jinsol grabbed a cotton pad and a bottle of antiseptic.

“This might sting,” Jinsol muttered.

Yoona scoffed. “I figured.”

Jinsol didn’t laugh.

She knelt in front of Yoona, reaching for her wrist carefully. Her usual teasing air was gone, replaced by something quieter, steadier.

Gently, she pushed Yoona’s sleeve up again.

The bruise around her wrist looked darker now, more visible under the warm light. The cut itself wasn’t too deep, but the sight of it made something in Jinsol’s chest tighten painfully.

She poured antiseptic onto the cotton pad, then hesitated. “…Ready?”

Yoona rolled her eyes. “I’m not a kid, Jinsol—”

The moment the antiseptic touched her skin, she hissed sharply.

Jinsol immediately pulled back. “Shit—sorry.”

Yoona clenched her jaw, exhaling through her nose. “It’s fine. Just keep going.”

Jinsol frowned but obeyed, more careful this time. She dabbed at the cut slowly, making sure not to press too hard.

Yoona was so still.

Too still.

Jinsol realized—Yoona was used to this.

Used to patching herself up.

Used to bearing the sting of it alone.

The thought made Jinsol’s fingers tremble slightly.

She hated this.

Hated the idea of Yoona quietly treating her own wounds, like no one else was ever going to.

Hated that she had brushed it off like it was nothing.

After a moment, she sighed. “You suck at taking care of yourself.”

Yoona let out a dry chuckle. “I never had much of a choice.”

Jinsol hated that even more.

She grabbed a bandage, peeling it open before pressing it gently over the cut.

For a second, neither of them spoke.

Jinsol’s hands were warmer than Yoona expected.

She wasn’t rough.

Wasn’t careless.

Her touch was firm but soft, like she was afraid Yoona might break if she wasn’t careful enough.

Yoona swallowed. “You’re weirdly good at this.”

Jinsol smirked slightly. “You’re not the only one who gets injured, you know.”

Yoona huffed. “Yeah, but your injuries are from being an idiot. Mine are…” She trailed off.

Jinsol’s smirk faded.

She didn’t push.

Didn’t ask her to finish the sentence.

Instead—

She gently ran her thumb over the bandage, like she was sealing a promise into it.

Yoona’s breath caught.

Then, softly—

“I don’t like seeing you like this,” Jinsol admitted.

Yoona blinked.

Jinsol exhaled, rubbing the back of her neck. “I mean, yeah, I get on your nerves for fun and all, but… I don’t actually want you to be—” She hesitated, eyes flicking to the bruises.

Yoona looked away.

A heavy silence filled the space between them.

Then, Yoona muttered, “It’s not your problem.”

Jinsol frowned. “You are.”

Yoona’s head snapped up. “What?”

Jinsol scowled. “I mean—you’re my problem now.”

Yoona raised an eyebrow. “That’s a weird way to phrase it.”

Jinsol rolled her eyes. “You know what I mean.”

Yoona did.

And for some reason—that scared her.

Because Jinsol wasn’t just saying it.

She meant it.

And Yoona didn’t know what to do with that.

After a long pause, she sighed. “I don’t need you to—”

“I know.”

Yoona frowned.

Jinsol’s gaze softened slightly.

“I know you don’t need me,” she said. “But I’m still here.”

Yoona inhaled slowly.

Then—quietly—she looked down at her bandaged wrist.

Jinsol’s hands didn’t hurt.

That was new.

Jinsol grabbed a spare towel from her dresser, then rummaged through her closet for something Yoona could wear. She pulled out a loose hoodie and some sweatpants, both a little oversized but clean.

“This should be fine,” she muttered, handing them over.

Yoona took them wordlessly, her fingers curling around the fabric.

Jinsol tilted her head. “You know where the bathroom is, right?”

Yoona nodded. She stood up, gripping the towel, but she didn’t move.

Jinsol raised an eyebrow. “Uh. You good?”

Yoona hesitated.

Her lips parted, then pressed shut again, like she was trying to swallow something back.

Jinsol watched her carefully.

The room was quiet except for the soft hum of the night outside.

Then, finally—

“…Sorry.”

Jinsol blinked. “Huh?”

Yoona exhaled sharply, like she hated saying it. “I’m apologizing, idiot.”

Jinsol’s brain short-circuited. “For what?”

Yoona avoided her gaze, gripping the clothes tighter. “For… earlier.”

Jinsol frowned. “You mean when you kicked me? ‘Cause honestly, I kinda deserved that—”

“No, you didn’t.”

Jinsol paused.

Yoona let out a slow breath, shifting on her feet. “I mean… with the first-aid stuff. I—” She swallowed. “I shouldn’t have snapped at you.”

Jinsol stared.

Yoona looked like she was physically struggling to say this. Like the words felt strange in her mouth, like she wasn’t used to apologizing for things that weren’t her fault.

And Jinsol—

Jinsol realized she wasn’t mad about it at all.

She sighed, rubbing her neck. “Yoona.”

Yoona tensed.

Jinsol smirked. “You’re acting like you just admitted to a crime.”

Yoona scowled. “Forget it.”

Jinsol chuckled, shaking her head. “Nah. I heard it. You apologized. That means you care.”

Yoona groaned, turning toward the door. “I take it back.”

“Too late.”

“I hate you.”

Jinsol grinned. “I know.”

Yoona stormed out.

Jinsol flopped back onto her bed with a satisfied sigh.

She hadn’t fixed anything.

Hadn’t made things suddenly okay.

But Yoona had let her in.

Even just a little.

And for now—that was enough.

When Yoona stepped back into Jinsol’s room, her damp hair clung to her skin, the oversized hoodie hanging loosely over her frame. She felt… different. Not just from the warmth of the shower, but from something else—something quieter, harder to name.

Jinsol was already sprawled out on the floor, messing with her phone.

Yoona frowned. “What are you doing?”

Jinsol glanced up. “Uh. Lying down?”

“On the floor?”

“Wow, you catch on quick.”

Yoona rolled her eyes. “Why?”

Jinsol shrugged, tossing her phone aside. “Because you’re taking the bed.”

Yoona stiffened. “…What?”

Jinsol sat up, stretching her arms. “You should sleep properly for once. My bed’s comfier than the floor, obviously.”

Yoona opened her mouth, then shut it.

She hadn’t slept in a bed that wasn’t her own in… a long time.

Hadn’t had a space where she could just rest without listening for footsteps, without waiting for the night to turn against her.

She wanted to refuse. Wanted to say she was fine.

But she wasn’t sure if she believed that anymore.

Jinsol yawned, rubbing her eyes. “Come on, don’t make this weird. Just sleep.”

Yoona hesitated.

Then—quietly—she walked over to the bed.

Jinsol smirked. “See? Not that hard.”

Yoona scowled, lying down with her back to Jinsol. “Shut up.”

Jinsol chuckled but didn’t push further.

Instead, as she flicked off the bedside lamp, she said something so simple, so casual—

“Goodnight, Yoona.”

Yoona’s breath caught.

Then—softer—

“Sweet dreams.”

Yoona wasn’t sure what to do with that.

She wasn’t used to hearing those words like they actually meant something.

Like someone actually wanted her to sleep peacefully.

Like she didn’t have to wake up exhausted and on guard.

She swallowed. “Goodnight, Jinsol.”

Jinsol hummed in approval. “I’ll wake you up for school tomorrow.”

Yoona snorted. “That’s a terrible idea.”

Jinsol grinned in the dark. “Oh, I know.”

Yoona let out a small chuckle, the tension in her chest loosening just a little.

For the first time in a long time—

She let herself close her eyes without fear of what the night would bring.

The morning sun filtered through the curtains, casting a soft glow across the room. It was quiet.

For once, Yoona wasn’t waking up to harsh knocks on her door.

Wasn’t waking up to shouting or tension thick enough to suffocate her.

Instead—

She woke up to warmth.

A gentle nudge on her shoulder. A quiet voice murmuring, “Yoona… wake up.”

Yoona groaned, turning away from the sound.

Jinsol laughed softly.

She was sitting at the edge of the bed, leaning close as she gently brushed Yoona’s hair away from her face.

Yoona’s brows furrowed as she stirred, her lashes fluttering slightly before her eyes finally opened—still dazed, still half-lost in sleep.

Jinsol froze.

She looked so different like this.

Not scowling, not rolling her eyes—just soft, quiet, peaceful.

Jinsol found herself admiring her.

The way the morning light touched her skin, the way her lips parted slightly as she exhaled, the way her messy hair still somehow looked annoyingly pretty.

Jinsol had seen Yoona in every mood.

Annoyed. Exasperated. Glaring at her like she wanted to kill her.

But this—

This was new.

And Jinsol didn’t hate it.

She swallowed, her fingers still tangled in Yoona’s hair.

Then, before she could think too hard about it, she gently smoothed it down, letting her touch linger for just a second longer than necessary.

Yoona’s eyes blinked open completely now, confused but still drowsy. “What…?”

Jinsol quickly pulled her hand back.

“Morning, sleepyhead,” she said, forcing her usual grin. “Told you I’d wake you up.”

Yoona blinked at her, still processing.

Then, groggily—

“…Why are you looking at me like that?”

Jinsol scoffed. “Like what?”

“Like a creep.”

Jinsol let out an offended gasp. “Excuse me—I just did you a favor, waking you up so nicely, and this is how you thank me?”

Yoona snorted, rubbing her eyes. “Yeah, yeah. Thanks, I guess.”

Jinsol smirked. “You guess?”

“Jinsol.”

“Yoona.”

A long pause.

Then, a yawn.

Yoona stretched, sitting up with a sigh. “Ugh… I don’t wanna go to school.”

Jinsol chuckled. “Tough luck. You are.”

Yoona groaned dramatically, flopping back down.

Jinsol laughed.

And for some reason—

This morning felt easier than usual.

The smell of warm rice, eggs, and miso soup drifted through the air, pulling Yoona further from the last traces of sleep.

Jinsol was already by the door, stretching lazily. “C’mon, before my grandma gets mad that we’re taking too long.”

Yoona raised an eyebrow. “Your grandma gets mad?”

Jinsol scoffed. “No. But she guilts you. And that’s worse.”

Yoona snorted but followed her out.

Downstairs, Jinsol’s grandmother was already setting the table, her usual warm smile greeting them.

“There you girls are,” she said, placing two steaming bowls down. “I thought I’d have to send Jinsol up to drag you out of bed.”

Jinsol grinned, plopping into a seat. “I was gentle! Right, Yoona?”

Yoona rolled her eyes as she sat down. “Debatable.”

Jinsol’s grandma chuckled, shaking her head. “Eat up before it gets cold.”

Yoona looked at the food—simple, homey, warm.

A real breakfast.

Not something she had to grab in a rush. Not something she had to eat while standing in the kitchen, listening for footsteps.

She swallowed and picked up her chopsticks.

The first bite was hot, comforting, familiar in a way she didn’t expect.

Jinsol, already stuffing her face, nudged Yoona’s arm. “Good, right?”

Yoona nodded slowly. “…Yeah.”

Jinsol’s grandma smiled. “Eat as much as you want, dear.”

Yoona hesitated.

She didn’t know what to say to that.

She wasn’t used to someone caring if she ate or not.

But as she took another bite, letting the warmth settle into her chest—

She decided she didn’t have to say anything.

Maybe this morning… was enough.

Walking to school wasn’t a big deal.

That’s what Jinsol told herself. That’s what Yoona told herself.

So why—

Why were their friends staring at them like they just committed a crime?

Jinsol and Yoona had barely stepped onto the school grounds before a voice rang out—

“Ohhh? What’s this?”

Lily was standing near the front gates, eyebrows raised so high they nearly disappeared into her hairline.

Next to her, Kyujin, dressed in her usual sports jacket, gawked at them like they had just arrived in a wedding dress and tux.

Even Haewon, who was usually the most normal of their group, paused mid-sip of her drink, her eyes slowly narrowing in suspicion.

Jinsol sighed dramatically. “Wow, it’s like you guys have never seen two people walk together before.”

Lily smirked. “Oh, we have.” She gestured between them. “Just not you two.”

Kyujin crossed her arms. “Yeah, usually, Yoona’s three feet ahead, ignoring you.”

Jinsol gasped. “That’s a lie.”

Yoona huffed. “No, it’s not.”

Jinsol turned to her, betrayed. “Yoona!”

Yoona simply shrugged, adjusting her bag. “Don’t act like you didn’t know.”

Lily grinned. “So… what changed?”

Jinsol smirked. “I finally charmed her.”

Yoona elbowed her. “You finally annoyed me into giving up.”

Haewon shook her head, looking between them. “No, something’s up.”

Kyujin tilted her head. “Did you two, like… get locked in a room together and suddenly bond or something?”

Jinsol laughed nervously. “What? No. Crazy talk. Nothing happened.”

Yoona, surprisingly, didn’t correct her.

Lily narrowed her eyes. “Hmm…”

Jinsol clapped her hands together. “ANYWAY, let’s go inside! What a beautiful morning, huh?”

Haewon looked at Yoona. “You’re just gonna let her avoid the question?”

Yoona sighed, rubbing her temple. “I have a headache. I don’t care.”

Jinsol grinned, throwing an arm around Yoona’s shoulder. “See? She doesn’t care! Case closed!”

Kyujin squinted. “I don’t buy it.”

Lily smirked. “Oh, we’re so not letting this go.”

Jinsol groaned, dragging Yoona toward the building. “C’mon, ignore them.”

Yoona shook her head, but for once, she didn’t pull away.

And their friends?

Their friends watched them disappear down the hall, exchanging knowing glances.

Because something had changed.

And they were going to figure out exactly what.

Days passed, and things between Jinsol and Yoona settled into something almost… natural.

Yoona didn’t shove Jinsol away as much.
Jinsol didn’t push too hard.

They still bickered. Still annoyed the life out of each other. But there was something softer underneath it now.

It wasn’t perfect, but it was theirs.

So when school ended that afternoon, Jinsol, without thinking, instinctively searched for Yoona.

But she was already gone.

Jinsol frowned.

Usually, she’d catch up with her, bothering her the whole way home until Yoona inevitably sighed and gave in to the company.

But today—Yoona had left first.

And Jinsol didn’t like how that felt.

Kyujin passed by, tossing her a look. “Yoona ditched you, huh?”

Jinsol scoffed. “She didn’t ditch me. She just… left.”

Kyujin shrugged. “Same thing.”

Jinsol didn’t respond.

Because, honestly?

It kinda was.

—

Yoona stepped into her house, the air immediately feeling heavier.

The walls felt colder.

She set her bag down quietly, her movements careful, controlled.

She knew how to walk without making a sound.

She knew how to exist without drawing attention.

But as she passed by the hallway mirror, she caught her own reflection—

And all she saw was a girl standing alone again.

Jinsol had made it so easy to forget what this house felt like.

But now, back inside, the silence swallowed her whole.

Yoona exhaled shakily.

She should’ve stayed with Jinsol a little longer.

Maybe just for today.

The night was still.

The house—even more so.

Yoona moved in silence, every breath measured, every step calculated.

Her bag was already packed. Not much—just the essentials. Clothes, some money, her phone. Enough to leave.

Enough to finally get out.

She slung the bag over her shoulder, her heart pounding against her ribs as she approached the front door. Almost there.

Just a few more steps.

Just a few more—

A creak behind her.

“Where do you think you’re going?”

Her body froze.

The voice—low, sharp, laced with something dangerous.

Yoona’s breath caught, her fingers tightening around the strap of her bag.

Slowly, she turned her head—just enough to see the dark silhouette behind her.

Too close. Too familiar.

Her stomach twisted.

“Running away?” the voice sneered. A scoff. “Pathetic. Like you’d last a day out there.”

Yoona didn’t wait.

Her heart kicked into overdrive.

She bolted.

A hand snapped toward her—

She ducked, twisted, ripped herself free.

The door—wide open now.

She lunged outside, barefoot, bag slamming against her back as she sprinted into the night.

“YOONA—!”

She didn’t stop.

Didn’t turn back.

She ran.

The pavement bit into her feet, cold and rough, but she didn’t slow down.

Because stopping meant—

No.

She wasn’t stopping.

She didn’t know where she was going.

Didn’t know what would happen next.

All she knew—

Was that she had to get away.

Jinsol had always loved the night sky.

It was quiet, endless, peaceful.

She walked toward the small convenience store near her house, hands stuffed in her jacket pockets, eyes drifting toward the stars.

A small smile tugged at her lips.

She wondered if Yoona ever looked at the sky like this.

If she ever had the time to just breathe.

The thought barely settled in her mind before—

A figure.

Running. Fast. Barefoot.

Jinsol blinked.

At first, she thought she was imagining it.

But then—

The streetlight caught the silhouette.

And Jinsol’s stomach dropped.

“…Yoona?”

Yoona didn’t slow down.

Didn’t say a word.

She just crashed into Jinsol, arms wrapping around her in a desperate, shaking grip.

Jinsol stumbled back, startled.

She barely had time to react before she felt wetness against her shoulder.

Yoona… was crying.

Jinsol froze.

Yoona never cried.

Never let herself be seen like this.

Jinsol’s hands hovered awkwardly before slowly—**gently—**she brought them up, wrapping Yoona in a careful embrace.

“Hey…” Jinsol whispered. “What—what happened?”

Yoona shook her head against her shoulder.

Her breath was ragged, her whole body trembling.

Jinsol’s chest tightened.

She glanced down. Yoona’s feet—scraped, raw, red.

She had run.

Barefoot.

Jinsol swallowed hard.

She didn’t know what had happened.

Didn’t know what made Yoona run like this.

But she knew—knew deep in her gut—

That this wasn’t just Yoona having a bad night.

This was something bigger.

Something she couldn’t go back to.

Jinsol held her closer, firmer.

“…It’s okay,” she murmured, voice softer than she thought she was capable of. “You’re okay.”

Yoona’s fingers clutched at the fabric of Jinsol’s jacket, as if letting go meant she’d fall apart.

Jinsol let her hold on.

She didn’t move.

Didn’t let go.

Because for the first time, Yoona wasn’t pushing her away.

For the first time—Yoona had run to her.

Jinsol didn’t ask any more questions.

Didn’t push, didn’t pry.

She just held her.

Held Yoona as she trembled in her arms, face buried against her shoulder, breath coming in short, uneven gasps.

Jinsol could feel the way her fingers clenched desperately onto her jacket—as if letting go meant losing everything.

So she didn’t let her go.

Instead, she raised a hand—gentle, careful—and slid it into Yoona’s hair.

Softly, lovingly, she caressed her head, her fingers threading through strands still slightly damp from sweat, her touch slow, soothing.

She felt Yoona shudder against her.

“It’s okay,” Jinsol whispered, voice barely above a breath. “You’re safe now.”

A small, broken sound slipped from Yoona’s lips—half a sob, half a breathless exhale.

Jinsol’s heart ached.

She didn’t know what had happened.

Didn’t know who had hurt her.

But she knew one thing—

Yoona wasn’t going back.

Not tonight. Not ever.

Jinsol pressed her cheek against Yoona’s hair, voice steady despite the storm raging in her chest.

“I’ve got you,” she whispered. “You don’t have to run anymore.”

Yoona didn’t say anything.

Didn’t need to.

Because for the first time in a long, long time—

She wasn’t alone.

Jinsol’s arms were still steady on Yoona’s, grounding her. The cold night air wrapped around them, but Jinsol’s warmth remained.

“Come home with me,” Jinsol murmured, her voice softer than Yoona had ever heard it.

Yoona hesitated.

Her throat felt tight.

Going with Jinsol meant accepting help. Meant admitting she needed it.

But Jinsol just stood there, waiting—not pressuring, not demanding. Just offering.

And that—that was why Yoona nodded.

Jinsol exhaled, something like relief flickering across her face. “Okay.”

Before Yoona could react, the weight on her shoulders suddenly disappeared.

She blinked, then turned—

Jinsol had already taken her backpack, slinging it over her own shoulder.

Yoona froze.

“…Jinsol.”

Jinsol didn’t look at her, adjusting the strap with ease. “Let’s go.”

Yoona frowned, stepping forward. “Give it back.”

“No.”

“Jinsol, I can carry it.”

“I know.” Jinsol’s voice was calm, but firm. “But you don’t have to.”

Yoona felt her breath hitch.

Jinsol wasn’t just talking about the bag.

Yoona stared at her, her fingers twitching, her mind screaming at her to take it back—to carry her own weight like she always had.

But she didn’t.

She let Jinsol carry it.

And it scared her—how easy it was to let someone help.

They walked in silence.

Yoona’s feet still ached. The night still felt unbearably cold.

But when she glanced at Jinsol, saw the way she walked beside her like it was the most natural thing in the world—

She felt lighter.

Even without the bag, Yoona was carrying something far heavier.

And maybe, just maybe—she didn’t have to carry it alone anymore.

The road stretched ahead, dark and quiet except for the distant hum of passing cars. The night air was cool, crisp—but Yoona still felt warm.

Jinsol walked beside her, steady, unwavering.

Yoona’s shoulders still felt tense, her heartbeat still unsteady. The weight of the night, of everything she had done—everything she had left behind—pressed down on her.

Her bare feet ached, every step a reminder of the desperation that had led her here.

She kept walking anyway.

Then—

A touch.

Gentle, warm.

Yoona barely registered it at first.

But when she looked down, she saw it—

Jinsol’s hand.

Slipping into hers, slow, careful. Like giving her the choice to pull away.

Yoona didn’t.

Jinsol’s fingers curled around hers, firm yet soft. Steady. Real.

Yoona swallowed, her throat tight.

“…Your hand is warm.”

Jinsol glanced at her, the corners of her lips tugging up just slightly. “Yours is cold.”

Yoona exhaled, something in her chest loosening.

For so long, she had learned to endure the cold.

But now—for the first time in a long time—

Someone was holding her through it.

And she wasn’t letting go.

The house was quiet.

Jinsol could tell the moment they stepped inside—the faint creak of the door, the cool air settling in the living room, the unmistakable sense of stillness.

Grandma was already asleep.

The lights were off, save for the small lamp she always left on in the hallway—a quiet reminder that someone was still waiting.

Jinsol exhaled softly, glancing at Yoona.

She was standing in the doorway, stiff, uncertain, as if the simple act of being here felt too much, too foreign.

As if she was waiting for someone to tell her she didn’t belong.

Jinsol didn’t.

Instead, she gently tugged her inside, closing the door behind them.

“Come on,” she whispered. “Let’s get you cleaned up.”

Yoona didn’t argue.

Didn’t resist.

She just nodded, stepping forward—crossing the threshold into something she wasn’t sure she could call home, but for now, it was enough.

Jinsol led Yoona into her room, closing the door behind them with a quiet click.

The air between them felt heavier now, filled with unspoken words, unacknowledged pain.

Jinsol turned, her eyes searching Yoona’s face.

She was exhausted. Drained.

Jinsol could see it in the way she stood—like her body wasn’t used to feeling safe.

Yoona didn’t move, didn’t speak.

So Jinsol did.

“…Take off your shirt.”

Yoona’s breath hitched.

She tensed, fingers twitching at her sides. “What?”

Jinsol’s voice remained steady, careful. “I just—I need to see.”

Yoona swallowed hard.

Jinsol wasn’t asking to make her uncomfortable. She wasn’t pushing to invade her space.

She wanted to know.

Wanted to understand how much she had endured.

Yoona hesitated.

Then, slowly—hesitantly—she reached for the hem of her shirt.

She pulled it up, revealing what words could never describe.

Jinsol’s stomach dropped.

Bruises.

Dark, faded, fresh. Some still healing, some deep enough that they must have hurt for weeks.

Scars—small ones, long ones, some that looked like they had barely begun to close.

A fresh cut along her rib.

Jinsol’s hands clenched into fists.

She had known.

She had known that Yoona was suffering. That there was a reason she never wanted to go home, that there was a weight in her eyes that never fully lifted.

But seeing it—

It made her want to scream.

Yoona didn’t meet her eyes.

She just stood there, arms at her sides, shoulders tense, waiting.

Waiting for judgment. For pity. For something sharp and unbearable.

Jinsol did none of those things.

Instead—slowly, carefully—she reached out.

Fingertips brushed over a fading bruise on Yoona’s shoulder, her touch barely there.

Yoona shivered.

Not from pain.

But from how gentle it was.

Jinsol exhaled, voice quieter than before.

“…How long?”

Yoona swallowed.

“Long enough,” she whispered.

Jinsol closed her eyes, steadying herself.

She wouldn’t cry. Not now.

Not when Yoona needed her to be strong.

When she opened her eyes again, she met Yoona’s gaze—soft, unwavering.

“Never again,” Jinsol said.

Yoona’s breath caught. “Jinsol—”

“You’re never going back there.”

Yoona looked at her—really looked at her.

And for the first time, she let herself believe it.

Jinsol’s fingers hovered over the bruises, the scars, the fresh cuts that should have never been there.

Her throat felt tight.

Her chest, heavier than ever.

She had always known that something was wrong. That Yoona hated going home, that she lingered at school longer than necessary, that her smiles never quite reached her eyes.

Jinsol had seen the signs. She had known.

But she hadn’t asked.

Hadn’t pushed.

Hadn’t realized just how much pain Yoona had been carrying alone.

Jinsol swallowed, her hands curling into fists.

“…I’m sorry,” she whispered.

Yoona blinked, startled.

“For what?”

Jinsol’s jaw clenched. She exhaled through her nose, looking down—ashamed.

“For realizing too late,” she said, voice barely above a breath.

Yoona’s eyes widened.

Jinsol shook her head, shoulders tense. “I—I should’ve seen it sooner. I should’ve known.” Her fists trembled at her sides. “I should’ve done something before it got this bad.”

Yoona stared at her.

Out of everything, she hadn’t expected this.

Not pity. Not empty words.

But guilt. Regret.

Like Jinsol genuinely blamed herself for not protecting her sooner.

Yoona exhaled, a strange, unfamiliar warmth spreading in her chest.

She reached out—hesitantly, carefully—and placed a hand over Jinsol’s.

Jinsol stiffened at the touch.

Yoona squeezed gently.

“…You were there when it mattered,” she said quietly.

Jinsol’s breath hitched.

Yoona met her gaze, unwavering.

“You’re here now.”

And somehow, for the first time in a long time—

That was enough.

The room was silent.

Or at least, it should have been.

Jinsol lay on the floor, wrapped in an extra blanket, arms folded behind her head. The ceiling above her was the same one she had stared at for years—but tonight, it felt different.

Because Yoona was here.

On her bed. In her room. Safe.

But not asleep.

Jinsol could tell by the sound—the restless shifting of blankets, the quiet sighs, the way Yoona’s breathing never quite settled into the steady rhythm of sleep.

Jinsol didn’t say anything at first.

She waited, listening.

And then—softly, gently—she spoke.

“Can’t sleep?”

Silence.

Then, after a moment—

“No.”

Jinsol turned her head, looking up at the bed.

The only light in the room came from the small lamp on her desk, casting shadows across the walls.

She sat up, pushing the blanket off.

Then, without a word, she climbed onto the bed, settling next to Yoona.

Yoona didn’t flinch, didn’t pull away.

She just lay there, staring at the ceiling, her fingers gripping the blanket loosely.

Jinsol sat cross-legged beside her, tilting her head.

“What’s on your mind?” she asked.

Yoona exhaled, slow.

“…Everything.”

Jinsol hummed. “That’s a lot.”

Yoona huffed out a small, tired laugh. “Yeah.”

Silence settled between them again, but this time, it felt less heavy.

Jinsol leaned back on her hands, glancing toward the window. The sky outside was clear, stars barely visible against the dark.

“Do you wanna talk about it?” she asked, her voice quieter this time.

Yoona hesitated.

For a long time, she had learned to keep things to herself. To lock the words away, to carry the weight alone.

But here—now—Jinsol was offering.

Not pushing, not demanding.

Just… offering.

And somehow, that made it easier.

Yoona turned her head, meeting Jinsol’s gaze.

“…Yeah,” she said softly.

Jinsol smiled, small and patient.

“Then I’m listening.”

And just like that—

In the quiet of the night, under the dim glow of the lamp, Yoona spoke.

Yoona spoke.

Not all at once. Not in perfect sentences or well-formed thoughts.

But in pieces. In quiet admissions, in sighs between words, in the way her voice wavered but never broke.

Jinsol listened.

Not just to the words, but to the silences between them.

To the weight behind each pause.

To the way Yoona’s fingers twisted the blanket, like holding onto something tangible helped keep her grounded.

At some point, Jinsol had stopped sitting.

She had shifted, leaning back until she was lying beside Yoona instead.

Neither of them acknowledged it.

It just—happened.

Like the conversation had pulled them closer, like the space between them had never really been there in the first place.

Yoona kept talking, her voice softer now. Sleepier.

Jinsol hummed in response, her own words fading as the exhaustion of the night caught up to her.

The air between them felt lighter now.

Like something unspoken had settled.

Like something broken had begun to heal.

Yoona’s breathing evened out first.

Jinsol followed soon after.

Neither of them moved.

Neither of them let go.

And for the first time in a long time—

Yoona slept.

The first thing Yoona noticed when she woke up was warmth.

Not the cold, empty feeling of waking up alone in a house that never felt like home.

But something softer. Safer.

She blinked slowly, adjusting to the morning light filtering through the window.

And then she saw her.

Jinsol.

Fast asleep, lying on her side, facing Yoona.

Her breathing was slow, steady.

The usual liveliness in her expression was gone, replaced by something soft, peaceful.

Without the teasing smirks and the constant energy, she looked—

Small.

Yoona’s lips curled up before she could stop herself.

Jinsol, who always seemed too much when she was awake—too loud, too reckless, too insistent on being an annoyance—

Looked so delicate like this.

Her hair was slightly messy, her face relaxed, her lips parted just slightly.

Yoona resisted the urge to reach out.

To brush a strand of hair away.

To trace the shape of someone who had made her feel safe for the first time in forever.

Instead, she just watched.

And for once, she let herself smile.

Because for the first time, waking up didn’t feel so bad.

Yoona had barely finished smiling when—

"Are you staring at me?"

Jinsol’s voice was groggy—low, thick with sleep.

Yoona’s entire body froze.

Her eyes widened. Her heart stopped.

Jinsol’s lids were still half-closed, her voice sluggish, but there was a lazy smirk creeping onto her face—like she had just caught Yoona doing something scandalous.

Yoona’s face heated up.

“No!” she blurted out—too fast, too defensive.

Jinsol’s smirk grew. “You totally were.”

“I—”

Yoona panicked.

She acted on instinct.

Which meant she smacked Jinsol right in the face.

A muffled, pitiful “Ow.”

Jinsol groaned, rolling onto her back, clutching her cheek. “What the hell, Yoona?”

Yoona, still flustered, turned away with a huff, trying to calm her racing heart.

“I wasn’t staring,” she muttered, but the warmth on her ears betrayed her.

Jinsol peeked at her from beneath her arm, grinning.

“Oh my god,” she murmured, more awake now. “You totally were.”

Yoona refused to dignify that with a response.

Instead, she grabbed the blanket, pulled it over her head, and decided that maybe she should’ve just stayed asleep.

The school grounds were alive.

Banners waved in the wind, students crowded around the field, voices loud and excited. The air smelled like grass, sweat, and the faint scent of food stalls set up for the event.

It was Sports Day.

And of course—Jinsol was running.

Because if there was one thing she was good at, one thing that made her stand out aside from being an absolute menace to Yoona’s peace of mind— it was speed.

Jinsol stood at the starting line, stretching her arms, rolling her shoulders. She was in her element, dressed in her athletic uniform, her hair tied back, her expression focused.

Yoona stood on the sidelines, arms crossed, watching.

She wasn’t sure why she was watching so intently.

Maybe because Jinsol was annoying and she wanted to see her trip for once.

Maybe because Kyujin, another athlete, had muttered something earlier about how Jinsol pushed herself too much, and Yoona—for some reason—didn’t like the thought of that.

Or maybe—just maybe—she was starting to understand why Jinsol’s energy had always been so hard to ignore.

Lily, standing beside her, nudged her elbow.

“Why do you look so serious? It’s just a race.”

Yoona scoffed. “I’m just waiting for her to embarrass herself.”

Lily raised a brow. “Uh-huh. Sure.”

Before Yoona could argue, the whistle blew.

And just like that—

Jinsol was gone.

A blur of motion, all long strides and raw determination.

Yoona barely had time to process it.

Because watching Jinsol run—actually run—was different.

It wasn’t like watching her fool around in class, or seeing her bounce around like an overexcited puppy.

It was powerful. Focused.

Like this was the one thing that made her feel truly free.

Yoona swallowed, gripping her arm.

Why did her chest feel weird?

Why did she suddenly care so much?

Before she could figure it out, Lily nudged her again.

“Still waiting for her to embarrass herself?” she teased.

Yoona scowled, ignoring the way her heart was beating just a little too fast.

“…Shut up.”

The race was over.

Jinsol had crossed the finish line first—of course she did.

Sweat dripped down her temple, her breath came fast, but she grinned, hands on her hips as she looked around, waiting for the usual cheers.

What she didn’t expect—

Was a voice cutting through the crowd.

“Oi, Jinsol!”

Jinsol turned, eyebrows raised.

A guy from the senior year—someone she barely knew, someone who definitely wasn’t part of the race—was walking up to her with a look that was way too hostile for Sports Day.

He cracked his knuckles.

“I heard you’ve been getting close to Yoona,” he said, tilting his head. “You trying to steal her or something?”

Jinsol blinked.

What?

Another voice piped up from the crowd.

“Yeah, we had a bet running on who could get her first.”

Jinsol’s stomach dropped.

A bet? On Yoona?

She barely had time to react before—

The first punch landed.

Pain exploded in her jaw.

The force made her stumble back, barely keeping her footing.

Gasps rippled through the crowd.

Jinsol touched her lip—already split open.

Blood.

The guy smirked. “Guess I should take you out of the competition, huh?”

Jinsol looked up.

Her vision blurred with fury.

“Yoona,” she thought.

They were betting on Yoona.

Like she was some kind of prize.

Jinsol’s body moved before she could think.

Her fist collided with his jaw—hard.

The crowd erupted.

Jinsol didn’t even flinch.

She wasn’t done.

Jinsol barely felt the next punch.

Adrenaline drowned out the pain, leaving only the sharp clarity of rage.

She didn’t care about the sting in her cheek.

Didn’t care about the metallic taste of blood in her mouth.

All she cared about was the fact that these guys—these absolute losers—had turned Yoona into some kind of game.

So she swung back.

Hard.

Her fist slammed into the guy’s stomach, making him stagger.

The crowd roared—half in shock, half in excitement.

And then—chaos.

Fists flew. Shouts rang out. Some people cheered, some tried to break it up.

Somewhere in the distance, Yoona was running toward them, her voice sharp—

“JINSOL, STOP!”

But Jinsol couldn’t stop.

Not yet.

She blocked another punch, but the second guy grabbed her arm, yanking her back.

A fist collided with her ribs, knocking the wind out of her.

Jinsol coughed, gasping.

Before she could recover—arms suddenly grabbed her from behind.

“Enough!”

A sharp voice cut through the noise.

Teachers.

One had grabbed Jinsol, pulling her away, while another was already scolding the other guys.

Breathing hard, Jinsol struggled against the grip for a second, her body still tense, her knuckles still clenched.

She could still hear the guy’s voice in her head.

“We had a bet on Yoona.”

Jinsol’s jaw tightened.

But then—

A hand grabbed her wrist.

Small. Warm. Trembling.

She turned her head—

And saw Yoona.

Her expression wasn’t angry.

Wasn’t scolding.

It was—

Worried.

“…Jinsol,” Yoona whispered, her voice shaking. “Please.”

Jinsol’s breath hitched.

The fight drained out of her instantly.

She let the teachers pull her away.

But even as they lectured her, even as she wiped the blood from her lip—

Her mind was stuck on one thing.

The way Yoona had looked at her.

Jinsol sat on the bench, silent.

For once.

Which was strange.

Because Jinsol was never silent.

Even as Yoona disinfected her wounds with sharp, precise movements, Jinsol just sat there, staring at the ground.

Yoona, on the other hand, wasn’t silent at all.

“You’re an idiot.”

She pressed a cotton pad against Jinsol’s split lip, a little too hard on purpose.

Jinsol didn’t even flinch.

Yoona scowled.

“You could’ve just walked away, you know?” Yoona continued, voice tight with frustration. “You didn’t have to start throwing punches like a complete—”

She stopped herself, exhaling sharply.

Her hands kept moving, dabbing at the dried blood on Jinsol’s face.

Jinsol still didn’t say anything.

And that—for some reason—pissed Yoona off even more.

Because Jinsol always had a comeback.

Always had something to say.

But now—nothing.

“You’re reckless,” Yoona muttered, shaking her head. “You always are.”

Jinsol just looked at her.

And then—finally—she snapped.

“I WASN’T GOING TO LET THEM TALK ABOUT YOU LIKE THAT!”

Yoona froze.

Jinsol’s fists clenched on her lap, her whole body tense, shoulders shaking.

“You think I could just let them say those things? Make a freaking bet like you’re some kind of—” Jinsol exhaled sharply, cutting herself off.

She ran a hand through her hair, frustrated.

“I know I’m reckless, Yoona. I know I do dumb things. But this—this wasn’t dumb.”

Her voice dropped, lower now. Softer.

“I wasn’t gonna stand there and let them act like you were just… something to win.”

Yoona’s chest tightened.

She didn’t know what to say.

Because no one had ever said something like that for her before.

She swallowed, looking away.

The air between them was heavy now, filled with something neither of them knew how to name.

Yoona sighed, her voice quieter this time.

“…You’re still an idiot.”

Jinsol huffed, a small, tired smirk tugging at her lips.

“But I’m your idiot,” she murmured.

Yoona rolled her eyes.

But—

She didn’t argue.

Yoona was used to being liked.

She had been since she was young.

People always gravitated toward her, their gazes lingering a little too long, their words dripping with interest before they even got to know her.

It was the same story, over and over.

They saw her and thought, She’s beautiful.

They spoke to her and thought, She’s cool, effortless, someone worth chasing.

They pursued her, confessed to her, made it their mission to have her.

And Yoona?

She let them.

Because it was easier that way.

Easier to nod and smile and go along with their expectations than to test if anyone actually wanted to look deeper.

She had been with people before.

Casual flings. Fleeting relationships. A few months here, a few weeks there.

It never lasted.

Because none of them ever looked past her face.

They liked the version of her that they had built in their heads.

They liked the way she carried herself, the way she could be charming when she wanted to be, the way she never seemed to need anyone.

But they never asked why she never talked about home.

They never noticed how tired she was, how she held herself too stiffly whenever the topic of family came up.

No one ever saw her.

Not really.

But Jinsol—

Jinsol was different.

From the beginning, she had been annoying.

Loud. Reckless. Persistent in a way that made Yoona roll her eyes.

At first, Yoona thought she was just another person who wanted her attention.

Another fool who liked the chase.

But then—

Jinsol never treated her like she was untouchable.

She never looked at her like she was some prize to be won.

She teased her, challenged her, frustrated her.

And yet—

She noticed things.

Like when Yoona was too quiet.

Like when she avoided certain questions.

Like when she was about to fake a smile, and Jinsol would stare at her for a second too long before looking away.

And now—

Now, Jinsol had fought for her.

Without Yoona asking.

Without needing a reason other than the fact that she wanted to.

That scared Yoona more than anything.

Because if Jinsol kept looking at her like this—

Like she was something more than just a pretty face—

Then Yoona wasn’t sure if she’d be able to keep pretending that she didn’t want to be seen.

Yoona had been staring at Jinsol for too long.

She realized it when Jinsol, still sitting on the bench, tilted her head and smirked.

“Am I really that pretty?” Jinsol teased, dabbing at her bloody lip with the ice pack Yoona had given her. “You’ve been looking at me like that for a while now.”

Yoona snapped out of it.

She scoffed, crossing her arms. “I was just wondering how someone can be so reckless and still have a functioning brain.”

Jinsol’s smirk widened. “So you were thinking about me.”

Yoona rolled her eyes.

But inside, she was unraveling.

Because she wasn’t just thinking about Jinsol’s usual recklessness.

She was thinking about the fight. About the way Jinsol hadn’t hesitated. About the way she had thrown herself into the chaos because someone had disrespected Yoona.

No one had ever done that for her before.

No one had ever cared enough to get hurt for her sake.

And Yoona didn’t know how to handle that.

She turned away, focusing on the medical supplies in front of her. “You should be thanking me, you know. I could’ve just left you to bleed.”

Jinsol hummed. “But you didn’t.”

Her voice was too soft. Too knowing.

Yoona’s grip tightened around the bandage roll.

She hated this.

Hated the way Jinsol was making her feel seen.

Like she wasn’t just Yoona, the girl everyone wanted but never bothered to understand.

Jinsol wasn’t looking at her like the others did.

She wasn’t admiring her like some trophy.

She wasn’t trying to claim her, to win her over just to say she had her.

She was just… there.

Unwavering.

Unshaken.

Like she wasn’t afraid of whatever Yoona was hiding.

Like she wasn’t going to run away the second she realized Yoona wasn’t as put together as she seemed.

And that—that terrified Yoona.

Because if Jinsol kept looking at her like this—

Then maybe, just maybe—

Yoona wouldn’t be able to keep running.

The air outside was heavy.

Not just with the lingering heat of the day, but with something tense, unspoken.

Jinsol barely had time to stretch her sore limbs before she heard a voice.

"Didn't think you'd walk out so soon."

Yoona stiffened.

Jinsol turned—and there he was.

The same guy who had thrown the first punch.

The same guy who had smirked like he owned the world when he talked about betting on Yoona.

He was leaning against the wall, arms crossed, a fresh bruise on his jaw.

Jinsol scoffed. "You really wanna go for round two?"

The guy shrugged. "I don’t fight girls who can’t handle their own."

Jinsol raised an eyebrow. "That’s cute. You mean the part where I punched you so hard you stumbled, or the part where the teachers had to save you?"

The guy’s expression twitched.

Yoona sighed. "Can we not do this?"

Jinsol glanced at her.

Yoona wasn’t looking at the guy.

She was looking at the ground, arms crossed, tense.

Jinsol frowned.

This wasn’t just about the fight anymore.

There was something else—something underneath it all.

The guy clicked his tongue. "Yoona, come on. You’ve been with enough people, why not just—"

"Finish that sentence, and I swear to God—"

Jinsol stepped forward, her fists already clenched.

The guy smirked. "See? Reckless. No wonder you’re always getting hit."

Yoona grabbed Jinsol’s wrist.

She wasn’t looking at the guy.

She was looking at Jinsol.

"Let’s go," she muttered.

Jinsol hesitated.

She didn’t like letting things go.

Didn’t like backing down from a fight, especially when it was about her.

But then—

Yoona squeezed her wrist.

Not hard.

Not enough to pull her away.

Just enough to say, I don’t want this right now.

Jinsol exhaled sharply.

She turned back to the guy, forcing a smirk. "You know what? Not worth my time."

She threw an arm around Yoona’s shoulders, pulling her away.

The guy laughed behind them. "Run away while you can, Jinsol. You’re just her next temporary thing, anyway."

Jinsol stopped walking.

Yoona flinched.

The guy chuckled. "Oh? You didn't know?"

Yoona’s grip on Jinsol’s wrist tightened.

"Jinsol," she whispered.

Jinsol’s jaw clenched.

But—

She didn’t turn back.

She didn’t punch him.

She just walked away, Yoona beside her.

Because this time—Jinsol wasn’t fighting for herself.

She was fighting for Yoona.

And sometimes, walking away was the hardest fight of all.

The walk back to Jinsol’s house felt longer than usual.

The silence between them was thick—too thick.

Jinsol was never good at keeping things inside.

And right now, the words were piling up in her throat.

Finally, she stopped walking.

“Yoona.”

Yoona halted too, blinking at her. “What?”

Jinsol hesitated.

She wasn’t sure if she wanted to ask.

Because what if she didn’t like the answer?

But the thought was itching in her brain, clawing at her, refusing to let go.

So she asked.

“…Am I different?”

Yoona frowned. “Different?”

Jinsol exhaled sharply. “From them.”

Yoona didn’t respond right away.

And that silence—that small hesitation—felt like a knife to Jinsol’s gut.

Jinsol laughed, but it sounded forced, bitter. “You know what? Never mind. Forget I—”

“Why are you asking that?” Yoona cut in, voice quieter.

Jinsol clenched her fists.

“Because,” she muttered, staring at the ground. “Because I know I’m not the first person you’ve been close to. I know I’m not the first person who—”

She stopped herself.

Bit her lip.

Tried again.

“I just—” Jinsol looked up, frustration flickering in her eyes. “How many people have you treated like this? How many have you let take care of you? How many have you let see you?”

Yoona’s expression didn’t change.

She didn’t even blink.

Jinsol hated that.

Hated how unreadable she was sometimes.

Like she was calculating something.

Jinsol scoffed. “See? You won’t even answer me.”

Yoona finally spoke. “Why does it matter?”

That made Jinsol snap.

“Because I don’t want to be just another name on your list, Yoona!”

Yoona froze.

Jinsol inhaled sharply, hands trembling slightly.

“I don’t want to be just another person who comes and goes,” she muttered. “I don’t want to be temporary to you.”

Yoona swallowed.

For the first time since they met, she looked caught off guard.

“…Jinsol.”

Jinsol shook her head, turning away. “Forget it.”

She started walking again.

This time, Yoona was the one trailing behind.

Yoona had never seen Jinsol this serious.

Not when she got scolded by teachers for being too reckless.

Not when she was focused on training for a competition.

Not even when she got into fights with other athletes over something stupid.

But now—now she was looking at Yoona like this mattered more than anything else in the world.

And Yoona didn’t know what to do with that.

She had asked why.

And Jinsol had snapped.

"Because I like you, that’s why!"

The words still echoed in Yoona’s head, sharp and raw.

The way Jinsol had spit them out, like she had been holding them back for too long, like they had burned her from the inside.

Yoona had always known Jinsol liked her.

Of course, she knew.

It was obvious in the way Jinsol never left her alone, in the way she always made it a point to annoy her, tease her, push her buttons—

But this?

This wasn’t teasing.

This wasn’t playful.

This was real.

Jinsol stood in front of her, fists clenched at her sides, breathing heavy like she had just run a marathon.

Her usual smirk was gone.

Her usual ease was gone.

For the first time, she looked uncertain.

And Yoona hated that she had been the one to put that look on her face.

Jinsol exhaled harshly, shaking her head. “You know what? Forget it. You don’t care anyway.”

She turned away.

And something inside Yoona panicked.

She didn’t even think before she reached out, grabbing Jinsol’s wrist.

The second her fingers wrapped around Jinsol’s skin, the other girl froze.

Yoona swallowed, heart hammering in her chest.

“…I do.”

Jinsol didn’t turn around.

Yoona tightened her grip.

“I do care,” she repeated, softer this time.

Finally, slowly, Jinsol turned back to face her.

Her eyes weren’t burning with frustration anymore.

Instead, there was something else there—something vulnerable.

And that was even scarier.

Yoona wasn’t used to this.

Wasn’t used to people looking at her like she was worth something more.

Wasn’t used to someone fighting for her, staying, waiting, instead of just taking what they wanted and moving on.

She wasn’t used to Jinsol being serious.

Because Jinsol was the one person who always kept things light.

She was the one person who never pressured Yoona, who never asked for anything, who just existed beside her, even when Yoona didn’t deserve it.

But now—now, she was asking.

Not with words.

But with the way she was looking at Yoona.

Tell me I’m different.

Tell me I matter to you.

And Yoona—

Yoona didn’t know if she was ready to answer that.

So instead, she just stood there.

Holding onto Jinsol’s wrist.

Holding onto something she wasn’t ready to lose.

The walk home felt longer than it should have.

The air was thick with something unspoken.

Jinsol didn’t crack a joke. Didn’t make an annoying comment. Didn’t even glance at Yoona the way she always did, like she was waiting for a reaction.

And Yoona—Yoona didn’t know how to fill the silence.

For once, she was the one who wanted to speak.

But she didn’t.

Because she didn’t know what to say.

Jinsol’s confession still echoed in her mind, heavy and undeniable.

"Because I like you, that’s why!"

And Yoona couldn’t stop thinking about the way Jinsol had looked at her after.

Like she had been waiting—hoping—for an answer.

And Yoona… hadn’t given her one.

She had just stood there. Held onto her wrist like that was enough.

But it wasn’t enough.

Not for Jinsol.

Not for someone who had given so much—who had been so patient with her.

And now, that patience was gone.

Jinsol was quiet.

Not in an angry way.

Not in a way that screamed I want you to feel bad for this.

But in a way that felt… drained.

Like she had finally given up on something she had been holding onto for too long.

They reached home without a single word.

Jinsol opened the door, stepped inside, and walked straight to her room.

Yoona followed, but she didn’t know why.

Didn’t know if she was following out of habit or because she wanted to.

Jinsol grabbed a towel from her drawer and tossed it onto the bed.

“Shower first,” she muttered.

It was the first thing she had said since the argument.

Yoona swallowed. Nodded.

She picked up the towel and walked to the bathroom without another word.

It was strange.

For the past few weeks, Jinsol had been the only person who made her feel lighter.

Even when she was annoying. Even when she was too loud.

Even when she was too much—

She always made Yoona feel less alone.

But now—

Now, Jinsol wasn’t filling the silence anymore.

And Yoona hated how empty it felt.

That night, Jinsol slept on the floor again.

Yoona wanted to tell her she didn’t have to.

That she could sleep on the bed, like last time.

But she didn’t.

Because if she asked, Jinsol might look at her again.

With that same expression from earlier.

That same look that made Yoona feel like a coward.

So she just lay in bed, staring at the ceiling.

Waiting.

Listening.

But Jinsol didn’t say anything.

Didn’t sigh dramatically like she always did before sleeping.

Didn’t shift around on the floor, complaining about how uncomfortable it was.

She just… lay there.

And for the first time since she met Jinsol—Yoona was the one who couldn’t sleep.

The next morning, Yoona woke up first.

She turned her head slightly—

And saw Jinsol curled up on the floor, still asleep.

The morning light was soft, highlighting the strands of hair falling over her face.

Her brows weren’t furrowed. Her lips weren’t curled into a teasing smirk.

She just looked… peaceful.

Smaller than usual.

And Yoona found herself staring.

Because despite how frustrating Jinsol could be, despite how much she pushed and pushed—

She had always been constant.

Had always been there.

And Yoona—

Yoona had never let herself fully think about how much that meant to her.

Until now.

The morning was cold.

Jinsol barely acknowledged Yoona when she woke up.

She just stretched, grabbed her uniform, and left the room without a word.

Yoona stayed in bed a little longer, staring at the ceiling.

Waiting.

For what?

She didn’t know.

But nothing happened.

No teasing. No dramatic complaints. No dumb attempts to annoy her.

Just… nothing.

And it felt wrong.

They walked to school together, like always.

But this time, the silence wasn’t comfortable.

Yoona had never realized how much she had gotten used to Jinsol’s constant chatter—

How much she had grown to expect it, to need it.

Now, every step they took felt heavy.

Usually, Jinsol would be the one filling the silence.

Talking about random things, complaining about school, pointing out stupid things on the street just to get a reaction out of Yoona.

But today—nothing.

Jinsol walked with her hands shoved into her pockets, eyes forward, expression blank.

Yoona snuck a glance at her.

There was no tension in her face, no signs of anger or resentment.

Just… emptiness.

And that was worse.

Yoona wanted to say something.

Something stupid, meaningless—anything just to break the silence.

But she didn’t.

She had no right to.

Not when she was the one who didn’t answer yesterday.

Not when she was the reason Jinsol finally stopped trying.

So she just walked beside her.

Feeling every second of silence like a weight pressing down on her chest.

They reached the school gates.

Yoona hesitated.

Jinsol didn’t.

She stepped ahead without looking back, heading towards the field, where the other athletes were gathered.

Yoona’s fingers twitched.

Her throat felt tight.

But she didn’t call out to her.

Didn’t stop her.

And for the first time since they met—

Jinsol didn’t stop and wait for her either.

Yoona watched as Jinsol disappeared into the crowd.

She should have been relieved.

She should have felt grateful that Jinsol wasn’t nagging her, teasing her, getting on her nerves like she always did.

But instead—

She felt off-balance.

Like something had shifted.

Like something had been taken away.

She clenched her hands into fists and turned in the other direction.

Their friends noticed.

Lily raised an eyebrow when Yoona sat down at their usual spot, her tray of food untouched.

“Where’s your annoying shadow?”

Yoona didn’t respond.

Lily blinked at her. Then at Jinsol, who was sitting at the other end of the cafeteria with Kyujin and the other athletes, laughing at something.

“Wait,” Lily whispered, narrowing her eyes. “Did you two fight?”

Jiwoo, who had been quietly eating beside them, perked up immediately.

“No way.” She gasped, eyes darting between Yoona and Jinsol. “She’s not following you around? You’re not smacking her head? This is weird.”

Lily hummed. “It’s beyond weird. It’s unnatural.”

Yoona glared at them both. “Can you shut up?”

Jiwoo smirked. “So you did fight.”

Yoona huffed, stabbing her rice with her chopsticks. “We didn’t fight.”

“…But?” Lily pressed, leaning forward.

Yoona clenched her jaw.

But she stopped talking to me.

But she finally gave up on annoying me.

But I hate how that feels.

“Nothing,” Yoona muttered instead. “It’s nothing.”

Lily and Jiwoo exchanged a look.

Jiwoo grinned. “Okay. If you say so.”

Yoona ignored them.

She focused on her food, on the way the rice stuck together, on the tiny scratches on her tray—on anything but the sound of Jinsol’s laughter from across the room.

The rest of the day was strange.

Jinsol wasn’t avoiding her.

She still showed up when they had class together.

Still walked past her in the hallways.

Still existed in the spaces Yoona occupied.

But there was a distance now.

Jinsol didn’t call out to her.

Didn’t poke at her cheek or try to trip her in the hallways.

Didn’t find excuses to linger.

It was like—

Like she had finally learned how to be near Yoona without reaching for her.

And Yoona—

Yoona hated it.

But she didn’t know how to fix it.

Because this was what she wanted, right?

For Jinsol to back off.

To stop making her flustered.

To stop looking at her like she was something more.

Yoona should have felt relieved.

But all she felt was cold.

Haewon had been watching.

Unlike Lily, who teased, or Jiwoo, who giggled at the drama, Haewon was the type to notice things.

She had noticed how Jinsol had stopped lingering around Yoona’s desk.

How she had stopped nudging her, poking her cheek, or calling her name in that annoyingly familiar way.

How she had stopped trying.

And she had noticed how Yoona—for all her usual indifference—was miserable.

At first, Haewon thought it was just a bad mood.

But days passed, and nothing changed.

Jinsol was quieter. Yoona was tense.

The space between them had grown into something palpable.

And Haewon had never seen Yoona this way before—this uncomfortable in her own silence.

Which was why, after their last class, she grabbed Yoona’s wrist and pulled her aside.

“Okay, spill.”

Yoona frowned, yanking her arm back. “What?”

Haewon crossed her arms. “What’s going on with you and Jinsol?”

“Nothing,” Yoona said quickly, too quickly.

Haewon raised an eyebrow. “That’s a lie.”

Yoona scoffed. “Why do you care?”

“Because you look miserable,” Haewon said plainly. “And so does she.”

Yoona flinched at that.

She tried to mask it by looking away, but Haewon wasn’t blind.

“I mean,” Haewon continued, tilting her head, “Jinsol’s still smiling, still joking, still acting normal. But she’s… different.”

Yoona exhaled through her nose. “She’s fine.”

“Is she?” Haewon shot back. “Because she hasn’t annoyed you in days. That’s not fine, Yoona. That’s weird.”

Yoona didn’t respond.

“Jinsol lives to irritate you,” Haewon said. “She finds joy in it. And now she’s just… what? Stopped?”

Yoona swallowed.

Haewon took a step closer, lowering her voice.

“What did you do?”

Yoona clenched her jaw. “I didn’t do anything.”

Haewon stared at her, eyes sharp.

Then she smirked. “Oh. That’s the problem, isn’t it?”

Yoona stiffened.

Haewon clicked her tongue. “Let me guess. She finally said something real, and you panicked.”

Yoona’s breath hitched.

She should have denied it. Should have shrugged and walked away. Should have said something cold, something dismissive, something that would make Haewon drop it—

But she couldn’t.

Because the words burned.

Because the silence between her and Jinsol hurt.

And before she could stop herself—

“She told me she likes me.”

Haewon blinked.

Yoona exhaled shakily, feeling the weight of the confession settle.

“And I…” Her fingers curled into her sleeves. “I didn’t say anything.”

Haewon just stared at her.

Yoona swallowed hard. “I—I didn’t know what to say.”

Haewon hummed. “And now?”

Now?

Now, Jinsol wasn’t by her side.

Now, Jinsol wasn’t waiting for her like she always did.

Now, Jinsol wasn’t hers—

And Yoona hated it.

“…I miss her,” she muttered.

Haewon’s smirk returned.

“Well,” she said, reaching out to flick Yoona’s forehead, “it’s about time you did something about it, then.”

Yoona had spent the rest of the day thinking.

Thinking about Haewon’s words.

Thinking about Jinsol’s voice—the way she used to say her name, the way she used to fill the silence without hesitation.

Thinking about how much she hated this distance.

By the time school ended, she had made up her mind.

She was going to talk to her.

Fix this.

She didn’t know what she was going to say, didn’t have the right words prepared, but she didn’t care.

She just wanted Jinsol to look at her the way she used to.

So she waited by the lockers, arms crossed, heartbeat loud in her ears.

Jinsol finally appeared, walking out of the gym, her duffel bag slung over her shoulder.

Yoona took a deep breath.

“Jinsol—”

Jinsol barely slowed down.

She didn’t even let Yoona finish before she tossed something at her.

Yoona instinctively caught it.

A key.

Her house key.

Jinsol’s expression was unreadable. “I’ll be home late. Training.”

That was all she said.

No teasing. No playful complaints.

Just a flat statement.

And then she turned and walked away before Yoona could respond.

Yoona stared after her, fingers gripping the key tightly.

The words she had prepared—the ones she had spent all day working up the courage to say—died in her throat.

She was too late.

Jinsol had stopped waiting.

Kyujin had been watching.

She always watched when Jinsol trained like this.

Because she had seen it before.

The way Jinsol threw herself into practice like it was a lifeline.

The way she ran harder, trained longer, pushed herself past the point of exhaustion—as if tiring out her body would somehow calm her mind.

And Kyujin had learned, over the years, that when Jinsol trained like this, something was definitely wrong.

Tonight was one of those nights.

The track lights cast long shadows as Jinsol sprinted down the lane, feet pounding against the ground in a rhythm too sharp, too desperate.

Her teammates had already packed up, leaving the field empty.

Except for her.

And Kyujin, who stood by the fence, arms crossed, watching.

Jinsol reached the finish line, slowed down for a second—then turned right back around to start again.

Kyujin sighed.

“Okay, that’s enough.”

Jinsol ignored her.

She rolled her shoulders, stretching out her legs, preparing for another run.

Kyujin stepped in front of her.

“Seriously. Cut it out.”

Jinsol finally looked up, sweat dripping down her face.

“What?” she asked, breathless.

Kyujin narrowed her eyes. “You’re overdoing it.”

Jinsol scoffed, shaking her head. “I’m fine.”

Kyujin raised an eyebrow. “Are you?”

Jinsol didn’t answer.

Because they both knew the truth.

Kyujin sighed, hands on her hips.

“Look,” she said. “You only train like this when something’s eating you alive. So… what is it?”

Jinsol exhaled harshly, wiping sweat off her forehead.

“…Nothing.”

Kyujin gave her a flat, unimpressed look.

Jinsol clenched her jaw, looking away.

Then, after a moment—

“It’s just Yoona.”

Kyujin blinked. Then nodded like she expected that.

“Of course it is.”

Jinsol let out a dry laugh, shaking her head.

“I don’t even know what I’m doing anymore.”

Kyujin hummed, studying her.

“Let me guess,” she said. “You finally made things clear, and now she’s acting like a confused idiot?”

Jinsol huffed.

“Something like that.”

Kyujin sighed, running a hand through her hair.

“Then you should stop running.”

Jinsol blinked. “Huh?”

Kyujin gestured to the track.

“You think training harder is gonna fix it?” she asked. “No. You’re just trying to run away from how you feel.”

Jinsol opened her mouth to argue—then shut it.

Because Kyujin was right.

Jinsol wasn’t just training.

She was avoiding.

Avoiding thinking about Yoona.

Avoiding how much this distance hurt.

Avoiding the fact that even after everything—Yoona still hadn’t answered her.

Jinsol clenched her fists.

Kyujin sighed. “Go home, Jinsol.”

Jinsol exhaled, shaking her head.

“Not yet.”

Kyujin frowned. “Jinsol—”

Jinsol grabbed her water bottle, taking a long sip before throwing her bag over her shoulder.

“I just need to run a little more.”

Kyujin stared at her.

She knew it wouldn’t help.

Knew Jinsol was running in circles.

Getting nowhere.

But she didn’t stop her.

Because sometimes, people had to exhaust themselves before they were finally ready to stop.

When Yoona stepped through the front door, the familiar scent of home-cooked food greeted her—warm, comforting, steady.

Jinsol’s grandmother was standing in the kitchen, stirring a pot with practiced ease.

She turned when she heard the door close, her kind eyes lighting up as she saw Yoona.

“Oh, Yoona, dear. You’re home.”

Yoona blinked.

It still caught her off guard sometimes—how natural it sounded.

You’re home.

Like she belonged here.

Like she was expected.

Like there was never a chance she wouldn’t come back.

She swallowed, offering a small nod. “Yeah.”

Grandma wiped her hands on her apron, looking over Yoona’s shoulder.

“Where’s Jinsol?”

Yoona froze.

Her grip on the house key tightened.

Where was Jinsol?

Still at the track, probably.

Still running.

Still avoiding.

Yoona had seen it in the way Jinsol had barely looked at her today.

Had felt it in the weight of the key pressed into her palm.

Jinsol had handed it over without hesitation, without her usual teasing remark.

Without—

Without expectation.

Because for the first time… Jinsol wasn’t waiting for her.

And Yoona hated it.

“…She’s at training,” she finally muttered.

Grandma hummed, turning back to the stove.

“She’s been staying late a lot this week,” she said, voice thoughtful. “Training harder than usual.”

Yoona swallowed. “Yeah.”

Grandma gave her a knowing look. “She does that when something’s on her mind.”

Yoona said nothing.

Because she knew that too.

Because she knew—this time, it was because of her.

A while later, the front door creaked open.

Yoona turned her head just in time to see Jinsol step inside.

She looked exhausted.

Her hair was damp with sweat, her duffel bag slung over one shoulder, posture stiff like every muscle in her body was aching.

She barely spared a glance toward the kitchen.

Grandma smiled warmly. “Jinsol, dear, you’re home. Come eat. I made your favorite.”

Jinsol stopped, eyes flickering toward the dining table.

The food was still steaming, freshly prepared, smelling of warmth and familiarity.

For a second—just a second—Yoona thought she would sit down.

But then Jinsol sighed, shaking her head.

“I’m not hungry.”

And just like that—she walked past them.

Yoona felt something in her chest tighten.

Because Jinsol didn’t even look at her.

Didn’t throw out a dumb joke, didn’t tease her, didn’t acknowledge her at all.

She just climbed the stairs, each step slow, heavy.

Then—her bedroom door clicked shut.

The house felt too quiet.

Yoona’s hands curled into fists on her lap.

She wasn’t used to this.

Jinsol had always been loud.

Annoying. Impossible to ignore.

She was the kind of person who always demanded space in the room, who never let silence settle for too long.

But now…

Now she wasn’t saying anything at all.

And somehow, that silence hurt more than any of the arguments they had ever had.

Yoona finished eating in silence.

Grandma didn’t push, didn’t ask any more questions—just gave her an extra serving of food, a pat on the hand, and a soft smile that felt more like comfort than words ever could.

But comfort wasn’t what she needed.

Not right now.

She needed to talk to Jinsol.

So after setting her dishes in the sink, she headed upstairs.

Jinsol’s room was at the end of the hall.

The door was closed.

Yoona hesitated for a second—then knocked.

No response.

She exhaled. “Jinsol?”

Still nothing.

So she grabbed the doorknob, turned it slowly, and pushed the door open.

But before she could even step inside—

Jinsol was already walking out.

Yoona froze.

Jinsol barely reacted.

She just sidestepped her, like she wasn’t even there.

Like she wasn’t blocking the doorway, waiting, hoping for something.

She had changed into an oversized hoodie and sweatpants, hair still damp from what was probably a cold shower to chase away whatever she was feeling.

Her bag was slung over her shoulder again.

“Where are you going?” Yoona asked before she could stop herself.

Jinsol didn’t pause.

“Out.”

That was all she said.

No explanation. No teasing remark.

Just a flat answer as she walked past her and down the stairs.

Yoona stared after her, hands clenching at her sides.

She had barely even looked at her.

Like she didn’t care.

Like she wasn’t still hurting.

Like she hadn’t been waiting for an answer that Yoona still hadn’t figured out how to give.

“Jinsol.”

No response.

Jinsol kept walking, her pace steady, deliberate.

Yoona followed.

“Jinsol.”

Still, she didn’t stop.

Didn’t even slow down.

The night air was crisp, the streetlights casting long shadows as they stepped outside.

Jinsol didn’t even glance back.

Yoona gritted her teeth.

Her chest felt tight, heavy.

Like something inside her was slipping through her fingers—and she couldn’t let it.

“Jinsol, stop.”

Nothing.

Jinsol just kept walking.

Yoona clenched her fists.

Took a shaky breath—

And screamed.

“BAE JINSOL!”

The name ripped through the air.

Echoed down the street, sharp, desperate, aching.

And this time—

Jinsol stopped.

Her shoulders stiffened.

For a moment, she didn’t turn around.

Didn’t move.

Just stood there—like she was debating whether to keep walking or finally face her.

Then, slowly, she turned.

Their eyes met.

And Yoona saw it.

The exhaustion.

The frustration.

The hurt.

It was all there, sitting heavy in Jinsol’s gaze—and it was all because of her.

Yoona swallowed.

For the first time in a long time…

She didn’t know what to say.

Yoona’s breath was unsteady as she took a step forward.

Then another.

And another.

Until she was standing right in front of Jinsol.

Close enough to see the tension in her jaw, the way her fists were clenched at her sides—like she was holding back everything she wanted to say.

Yoona exhaled, steadying herself.

“Stop running away.”

Jinsol’s eyes flickered, something unreadable passing through them.

“I’m not—”

“Yes, you are.”

Yoona’s voice didn’t waver.

She wasn’t going to let her brush this off.

Not this time.

“You’re always running. When things get too hard. When you don’t want to deal with something. When you—”

She swallowed.

“When you think it’ll hurt less if you leave first.”

Jinsol flinched.

Yoona saw it.

The slight shift in her expression, the way her fingers twitched—like she had been caught.

But Jinsol still lifted her chin, forcing a hollow laugh.

“And what about you?” she shot back. “You think I don’t notice how you do the same thing?”

Yoona stiffened.

Jinsol scoffed.

“You say I run, but what do you do, Yoona?”

She took a step closer, eyes sharp, challenging.

“You push people away.”

Yoona’s breath hitched.

Jinsol shook her head.

“You hide behind your walls, behind your excuses, behind all those people who think they know you—but they don’t. Because you don’t let them.”

Her voice dropped, softer now.

“…You didn’t even let me.”

The words stung.

Because they were true.

Yoona looked down, lips pressing together.

For so long, she had been afraid.

Afraid of letting someone get too close.

Afraid of needing someone.

Afraid of what would happen if she let herself have something real.

But Jinsol—

Jinsol had always been real.

From the very beginning, she had been unshakable, unwavering.

Yoona clenched her fists.

“Maybe I do push people away,” she admitted quietly. “Maybe I don’t know how to let someone in.”

She lifted her gaze, meeting Jinsol’s eyes.

“But I don’t want to do that with you.”

Jinsol inhaled sharply.

Yoona took another step forward.

This time, Jinsol didn’t move away.

Yoona took a deep breath, steadying herself.

Jinsol was right.

She had spent too long hiding, too long pretending her feelings weren’t real—but they were.

And it was time she finally said them out loud.

“I—”

She stopped.

Swallowed hard.

Jinsol just stood there, watching her.

She looked tired. Hurt. Like she was expecting Yoona to walk away again.

Yoona refused to.

“I don’t know when it happened,” she started, voice quieter now. “Maybe it was when you first annoyed me to death. Maybe it was when I realized you were the only person who never left me alone, even when I wanted you to.”

Jinsol’s eyes flickered.

Yoona exhaled sharply. “You’re so—so stubborn. So ridiculous. You make everything difficult.”

A small, humorless laugh left her lips.

“And somehow, you’re also the only person who makes everything easier.”

Jinsol’s expression softened.

Yoona clenched her fists, feeling her heartbeat pounding in her ears.

“I don’t want you to be just another person who comes and goes.”

Her voice cracked.

“I don’t want you to be like the rest.”

Jinsol’s breath hitched.

Yoona took one more step, close enough now that she could see every detail of Jinsol’s face.

The way her lips parted slightly in surprise.

The way her shoulders tensed, like she was bracing herself for something big.

“I—” Yoona hesitated, then let the words fall before she lost the courage.

“I like you, Jinsol.”

Jinsol froze.

Yoona felt like she couldn’t breathe.

Like the entire world had just gone silent.

No more running.

No more hiding.

She had said it.

Now all she could do was wait.

Jinsol still hadn’t moved.

Still hadn’t spoken.

She just stood there, eyes locked onto Yoona’s, like she wasn’t sure if she had heard her correctly.

Yoona swallowed.

Her chest felt tight, heavy—but she wasn’t done.

Not yet.

“You’re not like the others,” she said, voice barely above a whisper.

Jinsol blinked.

Yoona took a shaky breath.

“You never have been.”

She looked down for a second, gathering herself, gathering everything she had been too scared to admit.

“Other people…” She hesitated, then shook her head. “They look at me, but they don’t see me.”

Jinsol’s brows furrowed.

“They like the idea of me. They like what I show them, the pieces of me that are easy to understand. But you…”

Yoona exhaled sharply, lifting her gaze.

“You see everything. Even the parts I don’t show.”

Jinsol’s expression shifted.

Like she wasn’t expecting that.

Like she wasn’t prepared for how honest this was becoming.

Yoona clenched her fists.

“The way you treat me…” She trailed off for a second, trying to find the words.

Then she shook her head.

“No one else treats me like you do.”

Jinsol inhaled sharply.

Yoona felt the corners of her lips twitch, something almost like a small, breathless laugh escaping.

“You annoy me more than anyone I’ve ever met.”

Jinsol blinked at that.

Yoona held her gaze.

“But you also make me feel safe.”

Jinsol stiffened.

Her lips parted slightly, like she wanted to say something—but no words came out.

Yoona exhaled, eyes never leaving hers.

“That’s why it’s different.”

She swallowed.

“That’s why you make me feel… something I don’t know how to describe.”

Jinsol didn’t breathe.

Didn’t move.

Yoona had never seen her so quiet.

The night air was cold, but somehow, Yoona felt warm.

Maybe because, for the first time—

She wasn’t running anymore.

Jinsol was frozen.

Completely, utterly stuck in place.

Her brain barely processed what had just happened—what Yoona had just done.

One second, Yoona was standing there, spilling her heart out.

The next—

She kissed her.

Not on the lips.

But on the cheek.

Soft. Quick. Barely even a second long.

But enough to leave Jinsol absolutely stunned.

Her entire body locked up.

Yoona pulled back, eyes flickering over Jinsol’s face.

Then—she smirked.

A small, almost teasing glint in her eyes.

“If you want one on the lips,” she said, her voice light, playful—but undeniably serious.

“You’re gonna have to work harder for it.”

Jinsol’s brain short-circuited.

Her ears burned.

Her mouth opened—then closed.

Then opened again.

Nothing came out.

Because what the hell.

What the actual hell.

She had spent the past few weeks worrying, questioning, overthinking every little thing about Yoona—

And now she was just dropping that on her like it was nothing?

Yoona just laughed.

Like she could physically see Jinsol’s mind malfunctioning in real-time.

She patted her shoulder.

“Think about it, okay?”

Then—she walked past her.

Leaving Jinsol standing there, cheeks burning, heart racing, completely wrecked.

Yoona was still infuriating.

Still annoying.

Still the absolute worst.

And now—

She had just flipped Jinsol’s entire world upside down.