I'm waiting for the right time
₍^. .^₎⟆
Aeri’s apartment buzzed with conversation, bursts of laughter mixing with the hum of the TV. It was a typical thing they did every other weekend night—10 p.m., the couch packed with familiar faces, a red cup in Jimin’s hand, and an old episode of Friends playing in the background. Someone had ordered takeout, the smell of fried chicken lingering in the air.
Jimin should have been engaged, throwing in her own comments and laughing along. But instead, her mind wandered, her focus slipping in and out of the conversation. She wasn’t even sure what they were talking about anymore.
“Jimin, you good?”
A nudge to her shoulder made her blink. She turned to find Ryujin giving her a curious look, while Yujin and her girlfriend glanced over from across the couch.
“Huh?” Jimin asked, shaking herself out of her daze
“You spaced out.”
She let out a small laugh, scratching her cheek. “Oh, yeah. I’m fine, just tired. This week has been a lot.”
Ryujin didn’t seem entirely convinced, but she let it slide, and the conversation moved on—something about Mrs. Park giving impossible deadlines, a funny story from their part time jobs, and some new campus gossip. Jimin nodded along, throwing in the occasional reaction, though her attention still drifted.
Then her phone buzzed.
She pulled it out of her pocket and checked the screen.
Minjeong:I’m omw there guys, leave some beer for me :p
Aeri returned from the kitchen, expertly balancing two bottles of soju in one hand and a bowl of popcorn in the other. She squeezed into the open space between the couch cushions, the popcorn nearly spilling over the rim.
“Minjeong is coming,” she announced, settling in. “I hope she brings some leftover cake.”
At the mention of Minjeong’s name, Jimin tipped back the rest of her drink in one go. The burn of alcohol wasn’t much, but it was enough to ground her for a second. Without a word, she stood, setting her empty cup down on the coffee table before slipping past the crowd toward the balcony.
She needed fresh air. And maybe more than that, she needed a hit from her vape.
The night air was crisp against her skin as she leaned over the railing, inhaling deeply before exhaling slowly, letting the blackberry-scented vapor curl into the city skyline. The view stretched out before her in golden specks, buildings blinking against the dark sky. The noise from inside was muffled now, only the distant sound of cars below filling the silence.
She barely had a moment to herself before she felt a presence beside her.
“You’re thinking too hard again.”
Jimin turned slightly, already knowing who it was. Ryujin.
Without asking, Ryujin plucked the vape from Jimin’s fingers, taking a drag before blowing out a slow stream of smoke.
“What’s on your mind?” she pressed, her voice laced with that easy confidence Jimin had always admired. “I know you too well, so just spill.”
Jimin let out a quiet chuckle, shaking her head. “You really need to stop reading people like that. It’s freakishly accurate.”
Ryujin shrugged, clearly unbothered by the observation. She waited, letting Jimin take her time. The two of them stood in silence for a moment, watching the city lights blink and flicker in the distance.
Then, as if she already knew the answer, Ryujin asked, “Minjeong?”
Jimin exhaled through her nose, staring ahead. She could feel Ryujin’s gaze on her, patient but expectant.
“Mhm,” she mumbled, not really in the mood to talk about it.
She really didn’t need to. It was already an open secret.
For a while now, everyone in their friend group had picked up on the way Jimin looked at Minjeong—the way her face softened just a little more when she was around, the way she always paid attention to the smallest details about her. It was obvious. Even if Jimin never said it out loud, they all knew.
But Minjeong had been consistent—perhaps even painfully so. Every time the topic of dating came up, she’d offer the same answer, the same excuse, always paired with that easygoing grin.
“Not anytime soon.”
Yet, despite her words, she still had casual hookups—fleeting, meaningless encounters with different guys from their campus.
Her eyes would crinkle at the corners, her dimples deepening as if she didn’t notice the way the words made Jimin’s stomach sink every single time.
Jimin sighed, rubbing a hand over her face. “It’s stupid.”
Ryujin handed the vape back to her, tilting her head slightly. “It’s not stupid,” she said. “It’s just… unfortunate.”
Jimin huffed out a laugh, finally glancing over at her. “I guess that’s one way to put it.”
They stood there for a little while longer, passing the vape back and forth, neither of them in a hurry to go back inside.
Right on cue, the doorbell rang.
Jimin glanced toward the sliding doors leading to the entrance, already knowing who it was before anyone said a word.
“Minjeong’s here!” Aeri practically jumped off the couch, excitement laced in her voice as she rushed to open the door.
She exhaled, watching as Minjeong stepped inside, effortlessly slipping into the apartment’s energy. She dropped her bag onto the floor and handed Aeri a paper bag, grinning as their friend peeked inside.
Jimin, however, was stuck on something else entirely.
Minjeong had changed her hair.
Blonde. Soft under the apartment lights, the warm tones complementing her skin perfectly. And she was wearing glasses, too—square frames that sat comfortably on her face, adding an extra layer to her already frustratingly endearing presence.
Jimin didn’t even realize she was staring until Ryujin’s voice broke through her thoughts.
“She’s gonna melt if you keep looking at her like that,” Ryujin murmured beside her, smirking. She exhaled a final cloud of smoke from the vape before placing it back into Jimin’s hand. “I still don’t understand how oblivious Minjeong is to your feelings.”
Jimin tore her gaze away, clearing her throat as she fidgeted with the vape. She didn’t respond—what was she supposed to say? That she had given up on trying to understand it, too? That she wasn’t even sure if Minjeong was truly oblivious or just choosing to ignore it?
Through the glass, she saw Minjeong greeting their friends with that same easy smile, the kind that made people gravitate toward her effortlessly. Jimin watched as Ryujin made her way inside, pulling Minjeong into a hug before glancing over her shoulder with a teasing smirk in Jimin’s direction. Jimin just rolled her eyes.
Then Minjeong’s gaze flickered toward the balcony.
And before Jimin could even process it, she was walking over.
The sliding door opened with a soft whoosh , letting in the sounds of the city before closing behind her.
“Hi.” Minjeong’s voice was small, almost shy, as she stepped closer.
Jimin swallowed, suddenly hyper-aware of how warm her face felt. “Hi.”
A beat of silence stretched between them, the distant noise of the party inside filling the gaps. Minjeong’s eyes flickered down to Jimin’s hand. Her brows furrowed slightly.
“I thought you quit nic?”
Jimin followed her gaze, realizing she was still holding the vape. Minjeong looked back up, meeting her eyes expectantly.
“Oh! Uhm—” Jimin quickly scratched her cheek, a nervous habit, and shifted her grip, trying to hide it. “Old habits die hard, you know.”
Minjeong didn’t look convinced.
Jimin felt the weight of her stare, the way her expression softened just enough to show that she wasn’t scolding her—just worried.
For some reason, that made Jimin feel even more embarrassed.
Minjeong sighed but let it go. “Well… at least tell me it’s a good flavor.”
Jimin chuckled, relieved by the change in subject. “Blackberry.”
Minjeong hummed in approval. “Not bad.”
She leaned against the railing beside Jimin, their shoulders almost touching. The city stretched before them, lights flickering in the distance, the air between them settling into something quieter, something softer.
Jimin took another hit, exhaling toward the skyline. Minjeong turned her head slightly, watching the smoke curl into the air.
Then, without thinking, she reached out.
Jimin froze as Minjeong gently took the vape from her fingers, inspecting it before bringing it to her lips. She took a slow drag, exhaled, then made a face.
Jimin laughed. “Not a fan?”
Minjeong coughed lightly, shaking her head. “Nope. Definitely not.”
She handed it back, still scrunching her nose a little. Jimin took it, feeling the ghost of Minjeong’s warmth against the cool metal.
They stood in silence for a moment, the distance between them suddenly feeling smaller.
“You’re staring again.”
Jimin blinked, realizing Minjeong was watching her now, lips curling into that all-too-familiar teasing smile.
She turned away, exhaling another puff of smoke as casually as she could manage. “You changed your hair,” she muttered, as if that explained everything.
Minjeong grinned. “Yeah. You like it?”
Jimin didn’t even hesitate. “Yeah.”
Minjeong didn’t say anything right away, but Jimin caught the way her smile softened, just for a second.
Suddenly, Aeri’s voice rang out from inside.
“Jiminie! Minjeong! Get back in here!”
Both of them turned toward the glass doors, spotting Aeri standing there with a hand on her hip, waiting expectantly.
Minjeong sighed, but a small smile tugged at her lips as she glanced back at Jimin. “Well, I guess that’s our sign.”
Before Jimin could even move, Minjeong reached for her hand, fingers curling around her wrist as she tugged her toward the door. The sudden contact sent a jolt of warmth up Jimin’s arm, but she barely had time to process it before Minjeong was already pulling her inside.
As they stepped back into the apartment, the air inside felt noticeably heavier—not from the temperature but from the knowing glances their friends immediately threw their way. Some exchanged looks, others murmured something under their breath, and a few even let out teasing giggles.
Jimin just rolled her eyes.
Minjeong, either unaware or simply unbothered, plopped down onto the floor beside the coffee table. Jimin followed suit, sitting next to her just as Aeri handed Minjeong a freshly opened bottle of soju.
“Here. You probably need this,” Aeri said, grinning.
Minjeong wasted no time twisting the cap off. But before she could take a sip, Jimin nudged her lightly with her elbow.
“Don’t drink too much,” Jimin warned, leveling her with a knowing look. “You’ll just complain about a hangover tomorrow.”
Minjeong waved her off with a dramatic sigh. “I’ll be fine, Jiminie.”
Jimin raised an eyebrow.
“No, really! I need this,” Minjeong insisted, taking her first sip. She scrunched her nose at the taste before continuing, “The customers at the café were so bitchy today. You wouldn’t believe what I had to deal with.”
She furrowed her brows, clearly reliving the frustration in her head.
Jimin shook her head, already knowing there was no point in trying to convince her otherwise.
“Fine. Do whatever you want,” she relented with a sigh. “I’ll drive you home later, so go ahead.”
Minjeong turned to her, eyes lighting up. “You’re the best, Jiminie.”
Jimin rolled her eyes but felt the corners of her lips twitch up despite herself.
With that, the conversation naturally shifted as the night carried on.
Soju bottles passed between hands, the sharp burn of alcohol making laughter a little louder, conversations a little looser. They jumped from topic to topic —Minjeong’s hellish day at her part time job at the café, Yujin and Wonyoung’s freaky ass relationship, Ryujin’s latest string of hookups with girls from the engineering department.
“Wait, wait, wait —” Aeri nearly choked on her drink, leaning forward with wide eyes. “You hooked up with who ?”
Ryujin smirked, lazily stretching her arms above her head. “Not important.”
“Oh, it’s very important,” Yujin interjected, clearly entertained. “We need details. ”
Minjeong snickered. “Engineering girls? Damn, Ryujin. You’re really branching out.”
Ryujin took a swig of soju before leaning back against the couch with a smug grin. “What can I say? They’re fun.”
ᐢ..ᐢ
The night stretched on, filled with easy laughter, exaggerated stories, and stupid arguments over who could handle their alcohol best. But eventually, the energy started to settle, the apartment growing quieter as exhaustion took over.
Half of them were drunk now, sprawled across the couch or the floor, giggling at nothing or already dozing off. The responsibility of taking care of them naturally fell on the more sober ones—Jimin and Yujin, who exchanged a look of mutual understanding before getting to work.
Jimin sat on the floor, leaning against the couch, while Minjeong had, at some point, settled into her lap. Now curled up comfortably, her head rested on Jimin, who glanced down at her, noticing the warmth of her cheeks, flushed with a soft shade of pink.
Yujin, of course, didn’t let the moment pass unnoticed.
She snorted, crossing her arms as she looked down at them. “Get a room, you two.”
Jimin rolled her eyes, though there was no real annoyance behind it. “Yeah, like you weren’t clinging onto Wonyoung all night.”
Yujin opened her mouth to argue but quickly shut it, frowning instead. “…Whatever.” She sighed dramatically, already moving to help a half-asleep Ryujin up from where she was slumped against the coffee table. “I’ll take Ryujin home. You take care of Minjeong, alright?”
Jimin was about to respond when Yujin suddenly smirked and added, “Or, you know, keep her.”
Jimin shot her a glare, but the heat creeping up her neck betrayed her.
Yujin just winked before hauling Ryujin up, muttering something about how she always got stuck with the hard jobs.
Jimin sighed, shaking her head, but her attention quickly snapped back when she felt Minjeong stir slightly against her.
“Don’t be too loud…” Minjeong mumbled sleepily, her voice barely above a whisper.
Jimin stilled.
Minjeong shifted, her arms lazily draping around Jimin’s neck as she buried her face into the crook of it, sighing softly. “Mmm… sleepy.”
Jimin forgot how to breathe.
She glanced down at the girl in her arms, completely unaware of the effect she was having, her breathing already evening out again as she drifted back into sleep.
Jimin swallowed. Her hands hovered awkwardly in the air for a moment before she finally let them rest on Minjeong’s back, holding her a little closer, a little steadier.
Her lips curled into a small smile.
“Yeah,” she murmured, barely audible. “I got you.”
Jimin let out a quiet sigh, carefully adjusting Minjeong in her arms. She was dead asleep, body slack with exhaustion, but even in sleep, she clung onto Jimin like it was second nature.
Gently, Jimin hooked an arm under Minjeong’s legs and the other around her back, effortlessly lifting her up. The shift in movement made Minjeong stir, and just as Jimin was about to carry her out of the apartment, Minjeong instinctively tightened her grip around Jimin’s neck.
Then—before Jimin could react—Minjeong’s legs wrapped snugly around Jimin’s waist.
Jimin nearly lost her balance.
From the other side of the room, Yujin was struggling to get Ryujin’s half-conscious self onto her feet. She glanced over and paused, a slow smirk creeping onto her face.
“Damn, Jimin. If you wanted to carry her like a bride, you could’ve just said so.”
Jimin shot her a glare. “Shut up and focus on getting Ryujin home before she throws up on you.”
Yujin grimaced, looking at Ryujin, who was swaying slightly with a dazed look in her eyes. “Ugh, fair point.” She grunted as she adjusted Ryujin’s weight, muttering under her breath.
With a roll of her eyes, Jimin adjusted her hold and carried Minjeong out, stepping into the quiet hallway. The weight of her in Jimin’s arms was strangely comforting, her warmth seeping into Jimin’s skin, the scent of peonies and something sweet lingering faintly.
By the time she reached her car, she carefully opened the passenger door with one hand, fully expecting to set Minjeong down with ease.
But Minjeong had other plans.
The moment Jimin tried to lower her, Minjeong whined softly, her grip tightening as she buried her face into the crook of Jimin’s neck.
“Minjeong,” Jimin murmured, trying not to laugh, “let go. I’m taking you home.”
A small groan vibrated against her skin. “Mmm… don’t go yet…”
Jimin bit back a smile. “We need to get you home, okay?”
“Nooo.” Minjeong tightened her hold as if she could keep Jimin there just by sheer will.
Jimin huffed out a soft laugh. Minjeong’s words didn’t match her actions at all—her grip was stubborn, but her body was already going limp again, her breathing growing slower.
Eventually, Minjeong’s head lolled to the side, her arms loosening just enough for Jimin to maneuver her into the seat properly. She reached over, buckling the seatbelt carefully, tucking a stray strand of hair behind Minjeong’s ear before closing the door.
With a small shake of her head, Jimin walked around to the driver’s side and slid into her seat.
The silence inside the car was thick, only the soft hum of the city outside filling the air. Jimin glanced over at Minjeong, her head tilted slightly against the window, lips slightly parted, completely at ease.
She looked peaceful.
Jimin exhaled, turning the keys in the ignition. As the engine rumbled to life, she reached for her phone and scrolled through their shared playlist before settling on a Minjeong’s favorite song. The soft melody filled the car as she pulled out of the parking lot, her fingers tapping idly against the steering wheel.
She stole another glance at Minjeong.
Jimin didn’t mind nights like these.
ᐢ..ᐢ
As Jimin pulled up in front of Minjeong’s apartment, the hum of the car’s engine fading into the quiet night. She let out a soft breath, her fingers tapping lightly on the steering wheel before glancing at the passenger seat.
Minjeong was still fast asleep, her head tilted slightly against the window, lips parted in a soft sigh. Her blonde hair was slightly tousled, falling over her glasses, and her breathing was slow and steady.
Jimin smiled to herself.
She hesitated for a moment before leaning in just slightly, lowering her voice to the gentle tone she always used when it was just the two of them.
“Minjeong,” she murmured, reaching over to nudge her shoulder lightly. “Where’s your keys?”
Minjeong stirred, her brows furrowing as she shifted in her seat. Her hands sluggishly patted at her jacket pockets, her movements clumsy and uncoordinated.
A beat of silence. Then—
“Huh?” Minjeong blinked groggily before her eyes widened in realization. She patted her pockets again, a little more frantic this time, before letting out a small, dramatic gasp.
“Huhhh… it’s gone, Jiminie,” she whined, bottom lip jutting out. She tried once more, fumbling at her jeans before slumping back into the seat in defeat. “Hic— I think… my pockets ate it.”
Jimin couldn’t help but chuckle, shaking her head as she watched Minjeong stare at her own hands like they had somehow betrayed her.
“Alright,” Jimin said softly, brushing a loose strand of hair out of Minjeong’s face. “We’ll stay at my place tonight, okay?”
Minjeong blinked up at her, eyes glossy from sleep and alcohol.
“Mmmmmkay,” she slurred, her head tilting to the side as she blinked slower and slower. A drowsy, content smile spread across her face before she mumbled something incoherent and let her eyes flutter shut again.
Jimin let out a sigh—not one of frustration, but something closer to quiet amusement. With a small shake of her head, she shifted the car into drive and eased away from Minjeong’s apartment, the soft hum of the engine filling the silence.
The city was quiet this late at night, streetlights casting long shadows onto the pavement. The roads were nearly empty, save for the occasional car passing by. Jimin kept one hand on the wheel, the other tapping idly against her thigh as she drove.
The ride to her apartment was only fifteen minutes, but it felt longer with Minjeong’s soft breathing filling the space between them.
Jimin stole a glance at her every now and then, watching the way her chest rose and fell steadily, the way her lips parted slightly every time she exhaled.
As they reached her apartment, Jimin reached over, gently unbuckling Minjeong’s seatbelt before stepping out of the car and walking around to the passenger side. Opening the door carefully, she crouched down slightly, readying herself before slipping her arms under Minjeong’s legs and back.
As soon as she lifted her, Minjeong instinctively curled into her, arms loosely wrapping around Jimin’s neck like earlier.
Jimin swallowed.
She adjusted her grip and carried Minjeong inside, the warmth of her pressed against Jimin’s chest making her heartbeat feel just a little too noticeable.
Jimin fumbled with her keys, cursing under her breath as she tried to shove the right one into the lock. Her coordination wasn’t exactly at its best after carrying Minjeong up the stairs, her arms still slightly sore from supporting the dead weight of her best friend.
After what felt like an eternity of trial and error, she finally managed to push the door open. A quiet sigh of relief escaped her lips as she stepped inside, the familiar warmth of her apartment wrapping around her.
Adjusting her grip on Minjeong, she carefully made her way to the bedroom, mindful of every step so she wouldn’t wake her up. Gently, she lowered Minjeong onto the bed, her body sinking into the plush mattress as she let out a quiet sigh.
Jimin lingered for a moment, standing at the edge of the bed, just looking at her.
Minjeong’s blonde hair was splayed out against the pillow, her square glasses now slightly askew, her cheeks flushed pink from the alcohol. Her breathing was slow and even, her lips parted slightly as she exhaled.
Jimin exhaled softly through her nose, a small, tired smile tugging at the corners of her lips.
She really was something else.
Realizing she had been staring for a little too long, Jimin shook her head and ran a hand through her hair. She straightened up, stretching her sore muscles before mumbling to herself, “I’ll stay on the couch, I guess.”
Just as she turned to leave, Minjeong stirred.
Jimin barely had a second to react before Minjeong’s eyes fluttered open, still heavy with sleep but alert enough to look directly at her.
Jimin’s breath caught in her throat.
She hadn’t expected her to wake up.
The room felt unnervingly quiet as they just… stared at each other.
Minjeong’s chest rose and fell steadily, her eyes half-lidded, her lips slightly parted as she took slow, deep breaths. Jimin could still smell the faint scent of alcohol on her, mixed with something inherently Minjeong—warm, soft, familiar.
Jimin should’ve said something, should’ve pulled away. But she didn’t. She couldn’t.
Then, in a movement so quick and unexpected, Minjeong reached up and wrapped her arms around Jimin’s shoulders.
Jimin let out a startled noise as she was suddenly pulled down, her body collapsing onto Minjeong’s with no time to brace herself.
Her hands landed on either side of Minjeong’s head, their faces now dangerously close.
“Uhm… Minjeong?” Jimin breathed, her voice barely above a whisper.
Minjeong didn’t answer, just blinked up at her with sleepy eyes, her grip still firm around Jimin’s shoulders.
Jimin swallowed, her heart pounding against her ribcage.
She could feel the warmth of Minjeong’s breath against her skin, could count the way her lashes fluttered slightly as she fought to keep her eyes open.
Minjeong’s grip on Jimin’s shoulders remained firm, her fingers lightly pressing into the fabric of Jimin’s shirt as if she didn’t want to let go. Her half-lidded eyes flickered between Jimin’s lips and her gaze, something unreadable swimming behind the haze of intoxication.
Then, slowly—almost hesitantly—Minjeong tilted her head up, her lips parting ever so slightly as she leaned in.
Jimin forgot how to breathe.
She could feel Minjeong’s warm breath ghosting over her lips, a mix of soju and something undeniably Minjeong. The proximity made her head spin, her senses hyper-aware of every little detail—the weight of Minjeong beneath her, the way their bodies pressed together, the faint scent of peonies lingering in Minjeong’s hair.
Jimin didn’t know if she to move or stay completely still.
She squeezed her eyes shut, afraid that if she looked too closely, the moment would shatter, revealing itself as nothing more than a drunken illusion.
But then—
Instead of feeling Minjeong’s lips against hers, she felt something softer press against her skin.
A kiss.
Right on the mole below her lips.
Jimin’s breath hitched.
Minjeong’s lips lingered there for just a second longer than necessary, as if savoring the contact. It was barely anything, yet it felt like everything, like an electric current shooting through Jimin’s entire body. She swore she could feel the warmth of Minjeong’s lips seeping into her skin, leaving behind an imprint she’d never be able to forget.
Her heart was beating too fast, the tips of her ears burning red.
Just as she was about to say something—anything—Minjeong exhaled softly, her breath tickling Jimin’s skin as she mumbled, “Thank you, unnie…”
And just like that, she dozed off.
Her grip on Jimin’s shoulders loosened, her arms falling away as her body relaxed completely.
Jimin was left frozen, still hovering over her, still feeling the ghost of Minjeong’s lips on her, still trying to process what just happened.
She swallowed hard, blinking down at the sleeping girl in front of her.
Minjeong had no idea what she had just done to Jimin.
No idea how her heart was now a chaotic mess, how her mind was struggling to grasp onto logic when all she could focus on was the warmth still lingering on her skin.
Jimin let out a shaky breath, forcing herself to pull away slowly, careful not to wake her. She sat up, running a hand over her face, trying to ground herself.
This was dangerous.
Because if Minjeong kept doing things like this—drunk or not—Jimin wasn’t sure how much longer she could pretend she didn’t want more.
ᐢ..ᐢ
It was 4 a.m.
She lay sprawled on the couch, staring at the ceiling, feeling the weight of the night pressing down on her. The room was quiet, save for the faint hum of the air conditioner and the occasional rustling of the city outside. Even in the stillness, her mind wouldn’t stop running in circles.
She sighed, rubbing her tired eyes before glancing toward her bedroom door, which remained slightly ajar.
Minjeong was in there. Asleep in Jimin’s bed.
The thought alone made her heartbeat stutter.
Jimin had debated going in, telling herself it was just to take off Minjeong’s makeup, to make sure she was comfortable. But she never did. Because deep down, she knew herself too well.
What if she couldn’t stop herself?
What if she let her fingers linger too long as she wiped the remnants of mascara from Minjeong’s soft skin? What if she tucked a stray strand of blonde hair behind her ear and let herself admire how peaceful she looked?
What if she gave in to the quiet ache in her chest and pressed the faintest of kisses against Minjeong’s sleeping face?
Jimin shut her eyes, exhaling sharply.
She was being ridiculous.
Still, no matter how much she tried to push the thoughts away, the same questions kept creeping back in.
Did that mean anything?
Why did she kiss me?
Jimin lifted a hand to her mole, her fingers ghosting over the spot where Minjeong’s lips had been mere hours ago. The memory was still too fresh, too vivid. Or was it something else?
She squeezed her eyes shut, pressing her lips together.
Minjeong had never been the type to show affection so easily, at least not like this. Sure, she was warm, playful, and sometimes a little too comfortable with skinship, but this was different. A kiss—intimate and deliberate—even if it wasn’t on her lips, was something else entirely.
Was it because I’ve been doing that for a while now?
Jimin had always been the one to press quick, playful kisses to Minjeong’s cheek, her temple, sometimes even the back of her hand. Just small, fleeting gestures meant to express gratitude or affection in a way words couldn’t. Minjeong had always laughed them off, sometimes rolling her eyes but never pulling away.
But she had never done it back.
Until now.
And she’s only ever dated guys.
That thought alone made something uneasy settle in Jimin’s chest.
Minjeong had never once mentioned being interested in girls. Every relationship, every crush she had talked about—it was always a guy. That was just how it had always been.
So then… what was that?
Jimin exhaled shakily, covering her eyes with her arm.
Did she finally catch on? Did she figure it out?
Did she know—really know—how Jimin felt?
She had spent so long keeping her feelings locked away, convincing herself that Minjeong would never look at her that way, that she was just a friend. But what if… what if she had noticed? What if, even in her drunken haze, something in her had finally connected the dots?
Or worse—what if she hadn’t?
What if it was just a mistake?
Jimin let out a quiet groan, dropping her head into her hands.
She was overthinking. Overanalyzing. Letting herself fall into a rabbit hole of maybes and what-ifs, when the reality was simple:
Minjeong was drunk.
That was all.
It wasn’t a confession. It wasn’t some grand revelation. It was just a sleepy, intoxicated moment of affection, one that probably wouldn’t even cross Minjeong’s mind by the time morning came.
ᐢ..ᐢ
The morning greeted her with the scent of Minjeong lingering in her apartment. It was everywhere—the faint trace of peonies in the air, she knew the warmth of her perfume clinging to the sheets, the way the space somehow felt different just because she was here.
Jimin groggily pushed herself up from the couch, stretching out her stiff limbs before glancing toward her bedroom.
Minjeong was still there, sprawled across Jimin’s bed, limbs stretched in every direction as if she owned the place. Her blonde hair was messy, strands falling into her face, and her lips were slightly parted as she breathed in slow, steady rhythms.
Jimin found herself smiling.
She’s going to wake up complaining about her headache in about ten minutes.
The thought was almost comforting, except for the way last night’s questions still clawed at the back of her mind.
She needed a distraction.
Something. Anything.
Bad habits die hard, after all.
It was barely 11 a.m., but nicotine and a cold can of Heineken seemed like the best way to ease her nerves. It wasn’t the healthiest coping mechanism—Minjeong always told her off for it—but Jimin didn’t care.
Sometimes familiarity was the only thing that kept her grounded, even if it came in the form of vices she should’ve outgrown by now.
Grabbing a beer from the fridge, she cracked it open with a soft hiss before stepping out onto the balcony.
The air was cool against her skin, the kind of morning that felt like it was stuck between two moods—on the verge of rain, but not quite there yet. Heavy grey clouds loomed over the city, casting everything in muted shades.
Jimin leaned against the railing, taking a slow sip from the can before exhaling a puff of smoke from her vape.
Her muscles ached slightly, the weight of exhaustion pressing down on her, but the momentary quiet was a welcome break from the noise inside her head.
Until she heard the faint creak of her bedroom door opening. Jimin turned her head just in time to see Minjeong, still half-asleep, making her way straight to the kitchen. Her hair was a mess, sticking up in different directions, and her eyes were barely open as she fumbled around for the sink.
It was almost instinctive, the way Minjeong moved around her apartment. Like second nature.
Jimin had long stopped questioning how naturally Minjeong fit into her space, but this morning—after last night—she couldn’t help but notice just how close they had always been. Out of all their friends, the two of them were undeniably closer. Minjeong had always gravitated toward her, and Jimin had always let her.
But last night felt… different.
Jimin sighed, taking another sip from her beer. She didn’t have the energy to analyze their so-called friendship , not when her head was already full of unanswered questions.
So instead, she simply watched.
Minjeong stood by the sink, letting the cool water run over her hands before splashing it onto her face. The sunlight filtering through the window caught the strands of her auburn hair, making them glow slightly under the morning light.
She groaned, rubbing her temples. Here it comes.
"Jimin, my head hurts so bad," Minjeong whined, her voice still raspy from sleep.
Jimin chuckled, raising her beer can to her lips. "I told you, but you didn’t listen."
Minjeong pouted, drying her face with the towel she found on the counter. Her gaze shifted toward Jimin’s hand, eyes narrowing at the familiar aluminum can.
"You really need to stop drinking," she muttered, voice still laced with sleep.
Jimin smirked, tilting her head. "Did I hear something?" she teased, making a show of cleaning her ear with her finger.
Minjeong huffed, stepping onto the balcony to join her. "I’m serious ! I don’t want you to ruin your liver or something."
Jimin just hummed, taking another sip.
She knew Minjeong worried about her. It wasn’t the first time they’d had this conversation, and it wouldn’t be the last.
But it was always like this between them—Minjeong scolding, Jimin teasing. A cycle that had no real resolution. Jimin turned her head slightly, catching the way Minjeong’s lips were slightly pursed, eyes filled with quiet concern.
And for a brief second, she let herself wonder—was Minjeong worried because she cared? Or was she worried because she cared ?
There was a difference.
Suddenly Minjeong exhaled, leaning against the railing, her fingers tapping against the metal absentmindedly. "You didn’t sleep well, did you?" she asked, not looking at Jimin directly.
Jimin scoffed. "What gave it away?"
"The fact that you’re drinking at eleven in the morning, for one," Minjeong deadpanned.
She just smiled, taking another sip of her beer before sighing dramatically. "Okay, okay, I’ll stop drinking," she said, shaking the can lightly before setting it down on the table beside her.
Minjeong, however, didn’t look convinced. Her lips pushed into a pout, eyebrows furrowed in concern, eyes soft but insistent.
Jimin felt something stir in her chest at the sight—Minjeong always had a way of getting to her, even when she wasn’t trying.
"Stop pouting," Jimin muttered, unable to hold back a small chuckle.
Minjeong only huffed in response, her expression still scrunched in disapproval, but her eyes lingered on Jimin’s for a moment longer before shifting away.
Jimin took in Minjeong’s disheveled state—her clothes were still the same as last night, her oversized hoodie slightly wrinkled, the hem of her skirt uneven from how much she had tossed around in her sleep. Her blonde hair was sticking out in different directions, and Jimin couldn’t help but think she looked effortlessly endearing.
"You should go change your clothes and brush your teeth," Jimin said, her voice softening. "I think your toothbrush is still in my bathroom drawer."
Minjeong blinked at her, silent for a second.
Jimin knew that look. It was the look Minjeong always had when she was thinking about something she wouldn’t say out loud.
Before Jimin could ask, she added, "I’ll make you hangover soup. Is that better?"
At that, Minjeong’s entire demeanor shifted. Her lips curved into a bright smile, her sleepy eyes lighting up like a kid being promised their favorite treat.
"Yes! Thank you Jiminie." she beamed, suddenly giddy as she turned on her heel and rushed toward Jimin’s bedroom
₍^. .^₎⟆
Two weeks had passed since that night, and something had shifted between them.
Minjeong had always been affectionate in her own way—casual touches, playful nudges, the occasional arm thrown over Jimin’s shoulders. But lately, it felt… different.
More deliberate. More lingering.
Jimin wasn’t sure when she started noticing it. Maybe it was the way Minjeong’s fingers would graze hers whenever she handed her something. Or the way she hugged Jimin a little longer than necessary when she dropped her off after class.
She didn’t talk about the guys she used to see anymore. She didn’t bring up the kiss either, the one that had been occupying Jimin’s mind for weeks now.
Did she even remember it?
Or—Jimin dared to hope—was this Minjeong’s way of reciprocating her feelings?
Whatever it was, Jimin wasn’t about to question it.
She found herself falling even harder, if that was even possible.
Their friends saw it too. They teased her for it constantly—how she practically melted whenever Minjeong was around, how she always listened to her without question, how she had even started cutting down on nicotine because Minjeong pouted at her every time she caught her with a vape in hand.
It was ridiculous. But Jimin had never been happier.
Now, sitting in her car outside Minjeong’s part-time job, she smiled to herself as she scrolled through Twitter, watching a random cat video. A small iced coffee, Minjeong’s favorite, sat in the cup holder, waiting for her.
It was routine now—picking her up, making sure she got home safe, finding excuses to spend more time together. Not that Minjeong ever complained.
The shop door opened, and Jimin looked up just in time to see Minjeong step out, adjusting the strap of her bag. She looked tired, but the moment her eyes landed on Jimin’s car, she brightened, waving as she jogged over.
Jimin rolled down the window, grinning. "Rough shift?"
Minjeong groaned, resting her arms on the car door. "You have no idea. Some guy spilled an entire caramel macchiato and then tried to blame me for it. And don’t even get me started on the old ladies arguing over who got their order first—"
Jimin laughed, unlocking the doors. "C’mon, let’s get you home."
Minjeong slipped inside, sighing dramatically as she settled into the passenger seat. That’s when she noticed the drink waiting for her.
Her eyes lit up. "You got me coffee?"
Jimin shrugged, starting the engine. "You looked like you’d need it."
Jimin watched as Minjeong eagerly sipped on the drink, her face lighting up with satisfaction. The sight made Jimin smile as she turned the key in the ignition, the soft hum of the engine filling the car. She absentmindedly started humming along to their favorite song playing faintly through the speakers.
As they drove, a thought crossed her mind, and without hesitation, she voiced it.
"Hey, do you wanna go to my parents’ house during spring break?"
Minjeong turned to her with a curious look, still nursing her drink. "Hmm? What’s the occasion?"
Jimin glanced at her before returning her eyes to the road. "It’s my dad’s birthday. Figured it’d be a good time for you to meet them—and my sister too."
A small, amused smile tugged at Minjeong’s lips. "You really want me to meet your family, huh?"
"Well, yeah," Jimin said with a casual shrug, but her fingers tightened slightly around the steering wheel. "Besides, you always tell me you’re bored when you’re not working, so I thought—"
"You actually remember that?" Minjeong interrupted, sounding a little surprised.
Jimin scoffed. "Of course I do. It’s you."
There was a moment of silence, and when Jimin risked a glance at Minjeong, she caught her staring, a soft yet unreadable expression on her face.
Then Minjeong shook her head with a playful sigh. "Gosh, you give me all this attention. How would your future girlfriend feel?"
Jimin’s grip on the steering wheel tightened ever so slightly. Without thinking, she turned to Minjeong, her face serious, her voice unwavering.
"I don’t want one."
Minjeong blinked. "Huh?"
Jimin kept her eyes on the road but spoke with certainty. "I’m content with what we have."
She heard Minjeong inhale softly, as if the weight of those words settled between them. For a moment, Jimin thought Minjeong would say something, ask what she meant, dig deeper.
But Minjeong just smiled. She didn’t press, didn’t question. Instead, she shifted her gaze back to the window, watching the city lights blur past.
The rest of the drive was quiet, but not uncomfortable. Just… heavy with something unspoken.
Then, as they neared Minjeong’s apartment, she finally broke the silence.
"Crash at my place tonight?"
Jimin nodded. "Okay."
It wasn’t unusual for them to have sleepovers. It was something they had done for years—sleeping over at each other’s places, sharing hoodies, keeping spare clothes and toothbrushes in each other’s apartments. A normal thing between best friends, right?
Jimin wanted to believe that.
By the time they made it inside, they slipped into their usual routine—brushing their teeth side by side, changing into comfortable clothes, and moving around Minjeong’s apartment like it was second nature. When they were done, Jimin instinctively made her way toward the couch, ready to settle in for the night.
Before she could get too far, Minjeong let out a small yawn, stretching her arms over her head before collapsing onto the bed with a soft thud. She lazily patted the empty space beside her, eyes half-lidded with sleep.
"Come on," she murmured, already reaching for her laptop. "Let’s watch something."
Jimin hesitated only for a second before crawling onto the bed beside her. It wasn’t long before they were curled up together, a random movie playing on the screen.
Minjeong shifted, scooting closer, her warmth seeping through Jimin’s hoodie. "Hug my waist," she murmured sleepily.
Jimin swallowed hard.
Hesitantly, she wrapped her arms around Minjeong’s small waist, pressing her cheek lightly against the back of her shoulder. It should have been easy, something they had done before. But this time, her heart was beating too fast, her skin felt too hot, and she couldn’t focus on the movie at all.
The soft glow of the laptop screen flickered across the room, casting a dim light over the tangled limbs and quiet intimacy shared between them. The movie continued playing, but Jimin wasn’t paying attention anymore.
Minjeong’s breathing had slowed, her body warm and relaxed against Jimin’s side. At some point, she shifted, turning in her sleep until her face was pressed against Jimin’s chest. Jimin’s entire body stiffened. She could feel Minjeong’s breath, warm and steady, against the thin fabric of her shirt. The scent of her shampoo—something floral and sweet—lingered in the air between them.
Jimin didn’t know what to do with her hands. Her heart pounded against her ribs, heat creeping up her neck and settling in the tips of her ears. She willed herself to stay still, afraid that the smallest movement might wake Minjeong up. But then, in a half-asleep mumble, Minjeong stirred slightly, voice barely above a whisper.
“I told you to hug me,” she whined softly.
Jimin swallowed, her heart nearly stopping at the request. She let out a quiet breath, then finally let herself relax, wrapping her arms around Minjeong’s smaller frame. “Okay, okay,” she murmured, pressing her cheek against the top of Minjeong’s head. She began tracing slow, soothing circles on her back, feeling the way Minjeong melted even further into her.
She knew she should sleep, but she couldn’t bring herself to close her eyes. Not when Minjeong looked so peaceful in her arms, her lips slightly parted, her auburn hair tousled against the pillow. Jimin thought about how effortlessly beautiful she was—how, even in sleep, she still managed to steal the air from Jimin’s lungs.
In the quiet of the night, with the movie long forgotten and Minjeong curled up in her embrace, Jimin allowed herself a moment of vulnerability. She stared at Minjeong’s sleeping face and, without thinking, whispered into the space between them:
“I don’t know what I’d do without you, Minjeong. You don’t know the effect you have on me. I feel so happy with you.” She hesitated, voice growing even softer. “I love you so much.”
She hadn’t meant to say it out loud. The words had slipped past her lips like a secret meant only for the dark. But Minjeong didn’t stir—she remained fast asleep, unaware of the confession that lingered in the air.
Jimin finally let her eyes close, tightening her hold around the one person who made her feel at home. And for the first time in a while, she drifted into sleep feeling content.
ᐢ..ᐢ
Jimin stirred awake, her body shifting slightly as she reached out instinctively, expecting to find warmth beside her. But instead, her fingers met only the cool emptiness of the bed.
Her eyes snapped open. The space where Minjeong had been was vacant, the sheets slightly rumpled but cold. Confusion twisted into panic as she sat up abruptly, her heartbeat quickening. She didn’t even bother checking the time—she just knew it was too early, the world still cloaked in pre-dawn quiet.
“Minjeong?” she called out, voice hoarse from sleep. There was no response.
Jimin quickly got to her feet, pushing away the heavy blanket as she rushed out of Minjeong’s bedroom. She checked the bathroom—empty. The kitchen—silent. The living room—no sign of her. Her chest tightened as a thousand possibilities ran through her head, each one worse than the last.
Where could she have gone? Why hadn’t she said anything?
Fumbling for her phone, she immediately dialed Minjeong’s number, her hands trembling slightly as she pressed the device to her ear. The ringing felt endless, stretching on for what seemed like an eternity before a soft, familiar voice finally came through the other end.
“Jiminie?”
Relief washed over her so suddenly that she almost felt lightheaded. She let out a shaky breath, her grip on the phone tightening. “Minjeong,” she breathed, still trying to steady herself. “Where did you go? I—I woke up and you weren’t there. I was scared.” The panic in her voice was unmistakable, and she hated how vulnerable she sounded, but she couldn’t help it.
There was a small pause before Minjeong chuckled lightly. “I’m just at the convenience store next to my apartment,” she said, her voice laced with amusement. “I suddenly woke up and had a craving for ice cream.”
Jimin exhaled sharply, running a hand through her hair. The weight pressing against her chest didn’t completely lift, but it softened just enough for her to breathe again. “Okay. Okay, I’m coming down. Wait for me.”
She didn’t even think to grab a jacket as she hurried out of the apartment, the cool morning air hitting her skin the moment she stepped outside. The sky was still dark, but the faintest hints of light stretched across the horizon, signaling the start of a new day.
And then she saw her.
Minjeong was walking back from the convenience store, a small plastic bag swinging in her hand. She was wearing the same oversized hoodie from the night before, her hair slightly messy from sleep. She hadn’t noticed Jimin yet, too preoccupied with the ice cream in her bag.
Without thinking, Jimin quickened her steps, closing the distance between them in seconds. Before Minjeong could turn around, Jimin wrapped her arms around her from behind, pulling her into a tight embrace.
Minjeong stiffened for a brief moment before relaxing into the hug, her free hand coming up to rest on Jimin’s forearm. “Jimin?” she murmured in surprise.
Jimin buried her face into Minjeong’s shoulder, inhaling deeply as if to ground herself. The familiar scent of her shampoo, mixed with the crisp morning air, settled something inside her.
“I was scared,” Jimin admitted, her voice quieter now, raw with emotion. “Next time you have cravings, wake me up.”
Minjeong turned her head slightly, her lips curling into a soft smile. “You’re so dramatic,” she teased, but there was no bite to her words, only warmth.
Jimin just tightened her hold, refusing to let go. “I mean it,” she whispered.
And as the first light of dawn painted the sky in soft hues of pink and gold, Minjeong simply nodded, leaning back into Jimin’s embrace. “Okay,” she said. “I promise.”
₍^. .^₎⟆
It was Friday night, the air already buzzing with the anticipation of bad decisions and good memories. Their friend group had made last-minute plans to head out to Itaewon—one last get together before Jimin and Minjeong were supposed to head to Jimin’s parents' house for spring break.
Aeri and Ryujin took the lead, their loud voices carrying over the city noise as they navigated the crowded streets, searching for a club.
Jimin and Minjeong trailed a little behind the group, their steps falling into an easy rhythm. Minjeong’s arm brushed against Jimin’s every now and then, and Jimin couldn’t tell if it was intentional or if she was just overthinking it—again.
“You think we’re all gonna get wasted tonight?” Minjeong whispered, leaning in just close enough that Jimin could feel her breath against her ear, the soft-spoken words meant for her and her alone.
Jimin let out a breathy chuckle, glancing sideways at her. “Mhm, probably. I mean… we all kinda need it, don’t you think? Especially Yunjin,” she said, the corner of her mouth quirking up as she remembered Yunjin’s 4 a.m. meltdown in the group chat—screenshots of her unfinished thesis, the dramatic Should I just drop out? texts back-to-back.
Minjeong giggled softly at the memory, shaking her head. “Yeah… I guess so.” Her smile lingered, and Jimin swore it made the streetlights look dimmer compared to her.
By the time the group finally settled on a club, it was already close to 11 p.m. Aeri found the place—a neon-lit spot tucked between alleyways, promising cheap shots and bad choices. Ryujin practically dragged everyone inside, her excitement infectious as she waved off their hesitation.
The moment they stepped in, they were hit with it—thick air saturated with the unmistakable smell of alcohol, sex, sweat, and faint traces of something heavier lingering in the corners. Red LED lights pulsed in time with the music, cutting through the fog of cigarette smoke swirling around their heads.
It was overwhelming—almost too much—but before Jimin could get lost in it, Minjeong brushed past her, taking the lead with eager steps. There was a grin stretched wide across her face as she turned her head just enough to shout, “Let’s get shit-faced!”
They eventually found themselves sinking into the worn leather of a booth infront of the stage of the club, infront of the chaos and close enough to the dance floor, feeling the bass pounding against their chests. Towers of alcohol lined the table—bottles of soju, whiskey, tequila—half-empty and sweating from the humidity inside. Shots were poured recklessly, one after another, until everyone was flushed and laughing too loud over the music that filled every inch of the place.
Minjeong sat across from Jimin, eyes bright under the flickering red and blue lights. She was smiling—half-drunk, maybe, or maybe just glowing from the way the light caught her face. Jimin couldn’t tell anymore. Everything felt hazy, her head swimming with vodka and the constant push and pull of thoughts she’d buried for so long.
The game of Truth or Dare had started harmless enough—Ryujin’s idea, of course, with her mischievous grin and barely-there filter. It was the kind of game you didn’t play sober, and by the looks of it, no one was.
Jimin was leaning against the booth, head resting lazily against the cushion, cheeks flushed and lips tugged up in a tipsy grin. Her breath reeked of vodka and something bitter—maybe the thoughts she couldn’t quite push down anymore. She squinted at Minjeong, who sat right in front of her, close enough that she could memorize every curve of her face if she just stared a little longer.
Aeri and Ryujin were whispering to each other, barely holding back their giggles. Ryujin leaned toward Yujin, waving her over with a crooked finger and a glint of mischief in her eyes. Whatever Ryujin was plotting, Jimin was too far gone to catch it. She was already sinking, body relaxed, mind foggy.
“Wh-Where’s my dare?” Jimin slurred, head tilting back with a loose, lazy grin. “Hic—” Ryujin hiccuped suddenly, bursting into laughter before composing herself just enough to speak.
“I dare you,” Ryujin slurred, pointing directly at Jimin with that same mischievous glint, “to pick up a girl from the dancefloor… You know,” she paused, smirking as she flicked her gaze toward the crowd, “she’s been staring at you all night.”
Jimin blinked slowly, trying to process the words through the alcohol clouding her brain. She followed Ryujin’s gaze toward the dancefloor—eyes landing on a girl she didn’t recognize, swaying to the music with a drink in hand. Sure enough, the girl was looking at her, smirking like she knew exactly what game they were playing.
The table erupted in laughter and whistles, Aeri already slapping her hand on the table as she egged Jimin on. “Go on, Jimin! Make me proud!”
Jimin let out a breathy laugh, head spinning. She glanced at Minjeong, who was unusually quiet—expression unreadable as she stared down at her drink, fingers tracing the rim of the glass. For a second, Jimin hesitated, her drunken mind screaming at her to stay put, but the alcohol made her brave—or maybe just stupid.
“Fine,” she slurred, pushing herself off the couch, her knees wobbling slightly. “Ryujin you better buy me my Amazon wishlist after this.”
As Jimin stepped out of the booth, the laughter and cheers from their friends echoed behind her—loud, teasing, half-daring her to actually go through with it. Except for Minjeong. She didn’t join in. Not a word, not even a chuckle. Just silence. And somehow, that was louder than everything else combined.
Jimin could feel it—Minjeong’s gaze burning into her back, sharp and unwavering, like daggers pressing into her skin. But the alcohol buzzed too loudly in her veins, drowning out the rational voice screaming inside her chest. Impulses came first tonight, feelings later. If later ever came.
You couldn’t blame Jimin, really. She wasn’t even sure what she and Minjeong were. Friends, yes. Close? Absolutely. But… more? No one dared say it out loud. Not even her. Minjeong had always dated guys. Always. So why was Jimin hesitating now? Why did she feel like she was doing something wrong?
Maybe it was selfish. Maybe it was fear. But another part of her—bitter, half-drunk, tired of wondering—kept whispering: She’s not yours. She never was.
So, Jimin forced a shaky breath and let her legs carry her forward. Each step felt heavier than the last, like she was wading through something thick and suffocating. The girl Ryujin pointed out was still there—dancing lazily on the dancefloor, swirling her hips seductively, eyes meeting Jimin’s with a smirk that said she knew exactly what was happening.
Still, Jimin kept walking, ignoring the way her heart twisted painfully with every step she took away from Minjeong.
As Jimin finally reached the woman, she barely had time to process before slender arms wrapped themselves around her neck—pulling her close, closing the distance until there was nothing left but the smell of expensive perfume and the sharp burn of vodka on the girl’s breath.
The woman’s eyes, heavy with lust, flickered over Jimin’s face like she was sizing her up—hungry, expectant. The way her fingers traced lightly along the back of Jimin’s neck sent an unsettling chill down her spine. It was almost too familiar. Too much like the way Minjeong held her when they curled up in bed together—arms lazily looped around her neck, face buried against her skin. But this wasn’t Minjeong.
Jimin swallowed hard, ignoring the bitter taste rising up her throat. She forced a crooked smile, but it barely reached her eyes.
The woman leaned in, lips brushing close enough to Jimin’s ear to make her shiver. “Hey there, baby…” she purred, voice dripping with confidence, “you finally noticed me.”
Jimin let out a shaky breath, the weight of the moment crashing down all at once. And for a split second, she wondered if Minjeong was still watching.
The woman’s lips brushed against Jimin’s neck, soft and deliberate, leaving a trail of heat in their wake. Jimin’s breath hitched, instincts taking over as her hands found the woman’s waist—firm, guiding. The music pounded through the walls, their bodies moving in sync to the heavy bass, hips pressed close like they’d done this before.
The woman arched against her, grinding slow and deliberate, while Jimin matched her pace—lips grazing the woman’s jawline before trailing down to her neck. She kissed, then bit—just enough to make the woman gasp. "Yeah, baby?" Jimin’s voice dropped low, husky with the alcohol and whatever dangerous confidence was brewing inside her.
The woman shivered, smirking as she turned around, fingers lacing with Jimin’s. "Come with me," she whispered, tugging her toward the back of the club—toward the bathrooms.
Jimin let herself be led, steps heavy, head spinning—but just as she followed, something pulled at her. From the corner of her eye, she caught sight of Minjeong.
Minjeong was sitting there, face unreadable, eyes locked on Jimin. Not blinking, not moving—just watching.
And fuck, it hit Jimin right in the chest. Her heart clenched, her breath caught in her throat. She didn’t know what scared her more—Minjeong’s expressionless face or the fact that she couldn’t tell what she was thinking.
Jimin was guided towards the bathroom pushed inside the cubicle, the unnamed woman went on her knees, hands were steady, her breath warm against Jimin’s skin as she dragged the zipper down, fingers slow, teasing. Jimin’s head fell back against the stall door, the alcohol in her system making everything feel hazy, unreal. Her body felt light, detached from her thoughts, the woman’s touch grounding her for just a second—until a sharp knock echoed against the cubicle door.
Jimin barely registered it at first, The woman paused, muttering under her breath in annoyance, “Occupied—fuck off.” The knock came again, firm and impatient.
And then the door swung open.
Before either of them could react, Minjeong stood there—expression unreadable, eyes dark and cold. She didn’t say a word. She didn’t need to.
Her hand reached out and grabbed Jimin’s wrist, firm and unyielding. Jimin barely had time to register it when Minjeong yanked her up, pulling her out of the cubicle without sparing the other woman a glance.
“Come on,” Minjeong’s voice was steady, but there was something sharp underneath. Something Jimin wasn’t sure she’d ever heard before.
“Min—” Jimin started, her voice rough, throat dry.
“Don’t,” Minjeong cut her off sharply, fingers tightening around Jimin’s wrist as she led her through the suffocating crowd. The music was deafening, the lights blinding, but all Jimin could hear was the sound of her own heartbeat pounding in her chest.
Minjeong didn’t stop until they were outside—away from the noise, away from the crowd. The cold night air hit them hard, but Minjeong’s hand stayed locked around Jimin’s wrist, trembling slightly.
The cold air did nothing to sober Jimin up—if anything, it made everything worse. The moment Minjeong let go of her wrist, she staggered back, blinking through the haze clouding her mind. Her chest felt tight, like her ribs were caving in, but she couldn’t tell if it was the alcohol or the way Minjeong was looking at her—like she was disappointed. Like Jimin had broken something fragile between them.
“You’re so fucking stupid.”
Minjeong’s voice cracked, barely above a whisper but it cut through Jimin like glass.
Jimin blinked, lips trembling, her throat burning from the vodka she downed earlier. “Hic—what did I do?” she slurred, arms wide like she was asking the world, not just Minjeong. She swayed on her feet, heart pounding, blood rushing through her ears.
Why was Minjeong so upset? They weren’t dating. She didn’t owe her anything. Hell—Minjeong never cared about Jimin like that… right?
No. She’s seen it all—the trail of boys Minjeong dated, the drunken nights she picked her up from one night stands to hookups, the purple hickeys left on Minjeong’s neck like reminders that she’d never be the one. So why now? Why act like this?
“Fuck, Minjeong—hic—what do you want from me?” Jimin’s voice cracked, anger and pain boiling over, her hands balling into fists at her sides. “What?!” she screamed. “Why are you acting like this?”
Minjeong flinched, but didn’t say a word.
“You don’t even like me,” Jimin choked out, voice breaking as the tears she’d been holding back finally spilled over. “So why—why the fuck are you getting so pressed about who I fuck with, huh?” Her shoulders trembled, every word tearing from her throat like it physically hurt. “You never cared before… Not when you let me sit there—watching you fall for every asshole who didn’t even know how to love you. Not when I stayed, every single time, pretending it didn’t fucking kill me.”
Minjeong’s lips parted, the weight of Jimin’s words slamming into her chest, but the only sound that came out was a small, broken whisper, “You don’t mean that…”
“I do,” Jimin spat through her tears, breath hitching. “Fuck—I do.” She laughed then, a hollow, bitter sound that cracked halfway through. “You’re so fucking unfair, Minjeong. You—you get to be the one breaking my heart while I’m just… standing here waiting for you to finally see me.”
She turned, wiping at her face with trembling hands, every inch of her body screaming to run. “Fuck this,” she rasped. “I’m going back inside.”
But before she could take a step, Minjeong’s hand shot out desperately, fingers wrapping around her wrist again.
“Don’t—” Minjeong’s voice cracked, barely louder than a breath.
“Let me fucking go,” Jimin hissed, venom lacing her words but her voice quivered, weak. She yanked her wrist—hard, too hard— Minjeong’s grip gone.
And she broke free.
As she stumbled back inside, and this time, Minjeong didn’t follow—didn’t even try to stop her. She just stood there, frozen in place, letting Jimin go like she was something she was finally too tired to fight for.
The club felt different now—it was suffocating. The music pounded in her ears, every beat slamming against her chest like it was mocking the ache inside her. Lights blurred into streaks of red and blue, bodies swayed too close, too loud, too much.
Jimin’s steps were uneven, dragging herself forward like every part of her was screaming to collapse. She blinked, trying to find her way back to their booth but her friends were gone.
Jimin scoffed, running a shaky hand through her hair, a humorless laugh slipping from her lips. Figures. She was alone. Again.
And maybe that was for the best even if something inside her broke a little more.
So she turned, dragging her heavy limbs toward the bar. If Minjeong wasn’t going to stop her, if no one cared, then what was the point in holding back anymore? Maybe if she drowned herself deep enough in cheap liquor and empty company, she could forget the way Minjeong’s voice cracked .
“One tequila shot,” she slurred to the bartender. “No—make it three.”
The bartender barely glanced at her, used to heartbreaks masked by alcohol.
And so she drank.
And drank.
And drank.
Throwing her head back, glass after glass, until she stopped tasting the bitterness of it and it all just felt numb. Random strangers started gathering—laughing, cheering, clinking their glasses with hers.
And for once, maybe that was exactly what she needed—forgetting who she was, forgetting who she loved.
₍^. .^₎⟆