Yeonji sat quietly at the far end of the table, her hands neatly folded on her lap as she tried to look anywhere but directly across from her in where Kim Soomin, with her crazy energy, seemed determined to fill every gap in the silence with her voice.
The dining room was— other than soomin's ted talk, was filled with quiet laughter from the adults and the clinking of cutlery. Seoyeon, Yooyeon, and Kotone were deep in conversation, reminiscing about the old times and planning for their future gatherings. Words like “reunion” and “invitethe others” floated down the table. It had been years since Kotone, Yeonji’s mom, reconnected with Seoyeon and Yooyeon, an old pair of friends who now had a family of their own.
Yeonji shifted her gaze between the food on her plate and the animated girl in front of her. Soomin hadn’t stopped talking since they sat down, her words flowing from one topic to another, It was dizzying. Yeonji tried to hold eye contact every time she tried to answer, just for a second, but would quickly give up and end up focusing on her food again.
“So, what do you like? Let me guess, wait, maybe you’re into dancing? Well, you just look exactly like the type to dance...” Soomin’s voice bubbled with curiosity. She didn’t seem to notice or mind that Yeonji only nodded in response.
Soomin’s older sister, Sullin, sat beside her, noticeably less interested in her younger sister’s antics. She was busy being immersed in her Nintendo Switch, chiming in only when necessary. While the adults seemed entirely immersed in their conversation, Yeonji on the other hand was stuck under the spotlight of Soomin’s questions.
Yeonji couldn’t keep up at all. The conversation had ricocheted between at least twenty different topics in the last half hour. Was it food, or art, or favorite school subjects now? She wasn’t sure anymore. She wasn’t annoyed, though, if anything, she was impressed. How could someone talk so much without running out of things to say?
"I used to think dogs were better than cats," Soomin continued without missing a beat, "but then I met my friend’s cat, and now I think maybe cats are okay? Like, not better, but almost there, you know?"
Yeonji nodded again, offering a polite smile. The truth was, she had plenty of thoughts about cats versus dogs. She even had a funny story about her neighbor’s cat. But as always, for first time encounters, her shyness got in the way, trapping her words before they could leave her mouth.
Soomin tilted her head, her eyes narrowing slightly as if trying to figure something out. “You don’t talk much, huh?” she asked, leaning forward.
Yeonji’s cheeks turned pink. “Umm well,” she replied softly, trying to find the right answer.
“That’s okay,” Soomin said, grinning. “I can talk enough for the both of us.”
The statement was so confident, so effortlessly casual, that it made Yeonji smile for real this time. Soomin noticed and her grin widened as if she’d won a small victory.
“You smiled! Unnie, did you see that? She smiled!” Soomin nudged her sister’s arm, earning a distracted grunt in response.
“Don’t bother her,” Sullin muttered, not looking up from her switch.
“Don’t listen to her,” Soomin said, turning back to Yeonji. “She’s just boring.”
“I can hear you,” Sullin replied flatly, finally looking up to give her sister a pointed look.
Yeonji’s smile grew, a quiet laugh slipping out before she could stop herself.
“See? I knew I was funny,” Soomin said smugly.
Not even a second had pass, she heard the topic shift yet again, this time to Minecraft. The mention of it caught Sullin’s attention this time around.
“Are you seriously still trying to recruit people to your Minecraft server?” Sullin muttered, her eyes glued to her game.
“I’m not trying to recruit anyone,” Soomin shot back, huffing. “I’m just saying it’s fun, and maybe Yeonji would like it!” She turned her attention back to Yeonji with a hopeful grin. “You’d like it, right? You can build whatever you want, and... oh! I could show you my farm! It’s huge, and I have, like, twenty cows.”
“I’m not sure,” Yeonji who could barely keep up said softly, a shy smile tugging at her lips.
Soomin gasped dramatically. “Not sure? How can you not be sure? It’s the best game ever!”
“Here we go again,” Sullin muttered under her breath, eyes still fixed on the switch's screen. “You’re literally so bad at it,” the older sister continued.
“Excuse me? I’m a pro,” Soomin retorted, her tone dripping with mock offense.
“A pro at dying,” Sullin quipped, not even missing a beat.
“Oh, please. What is up with old people beefing with literally anyone,” the younger girl retorted.
“Old? Mom! Soomin here was saying somwtehidbgwhatyhge” Sullin's words turned into muffled nonsense halfway through as Soomin launched herself toward her sister, trying to clap a hand over her mouth.
The playful sibling bickering grew louder, earning raised eyebrows from their mothers at the table.
Seoyeon nudged Yooyeon lightly with her elbow, and an eyebrow raised, her expression that says 'Aren’t you going to stop them?'
Yooyeon sighed in resignation, clearly used to the routine. “Girls. Enough. Or the plans after lunch will turn into a nice, quiet home stay.”
“BUT MOM!” the sisters protested in unison.
Soomin crossed her arms with a dramatic huff. “I have to go to Joobin’s house to bake later. She’s expecting me!”
“And I told my friends I’d meet them later!” Sullin shot back, holding up her Switch as if it proved her point.
Seoyeon, who had been watching the chaos from her peripheral view with growing impatience, finally turned her head and squinted at the two in that particular way only mothers can.
Both sisters immediately clamped their mouths shut, the air heavy with an unspoken truce but the defiance wasn’t entirely gone. They exchanged quiet, disgruntled grumbles under their breath, careful not to let them reach their mother’s ears.
Yeonji couldn’t help it, a soft laugh escaped her. The absurdity of the situation, the sisters’ banter, and the tension between them and their moms was... entertaining.
Soomin froze, her attention snapping to Yeonji. Her brows furrowed in mock seriousness. “Did you just laugh?”
“No,” Yeonji said quickly, though another laugh bubbled up.
“You did it again!” Soomin accused, squinting at her.
Yeonji couldn’t stop herself now. She laughed a little harder, shaking her head. “Why would I laugh at you?”
“See! You're laughing again!” Soomin leaned forward dramatically, her voice laced with playful indignation.
Yeonji ignored her, taking a bite of the dino nugget on her plate while locking eyes with Soomin. It was almost... mocking, but it felt natural. Slowly, she realized her shyness was starting to melt away under Soomin’s endless chatter and antics.
Soomin’s expression morphed into a comically exaggerated mix of disbelief and indignation, clearly trying to process the shift in Yeonji’s demeanor. But not even a minute had gone by, a smug smile spreading across her face suddenly showed up.
“Kids these days scare me. You fetus,” Soomin declared, arms crossed and face smug as if she’d just delivered the most profound statement ever. She made sure to emphasize both kids and fetus as though Yeonji were light-years younger than her.
Yeonji blinked at her, deadpan. “You’re literally only two months older than me.”
Soomin’s grin didn’t falter, her confidence unshaken. If anything, she leaned into it further, her head tilting in exaggerated superiority.
Yeonji sighed and rolled her eyes, redirecting her focus to the half-eaten dino nugget on her plate. But of course, Soomin wasn’t done.
A sudden giggle broke the silence. Yeonji looked up, confused, only to find Soomin staring at her, not with her usual teasing expression, but something... adoring?
“What’s that? Are those dinosaur nuggets?” Soomin teased, her tone shifting into something overly sweet and borderline condescending. She nudged her sister, as if everything went to normal again and they didn't just had a banter a minute ago. “Unnie, look! She’s eating dino nuggets. Isn’t she just a baby?”
Sullin, now back to barely paying attention, nodded absentmindedly, clearly paying no attention to what was actually happening.
Yeonji froze, a piece of nugget midway to her mouth. Her gaze flicked between the food in her hand and Soomin, who was now watching her with a look of pure amusement, as if waiting for her to take a bite.
Feeling oddly self-conscious under Soomin’s gaze, Yeonji hesitated before finally taking a bite. She chewed slowly, her eyes flickering back to Soomin, who still hadn’t looked away.
Just as Yeonji swallowed, Soomin shot up from her seat, leaned over the table, and before Yeonji could react—grabbed her cheeks with both hands.
“Aww, look at you!” Soomin cooed, stretching Yeonji’s cheeks obnoxiously as Yeonji flinched in surprise. “Such a cute little baby!”
Yeonji flailed slightly, her voice muffled as she tried to speak. But it only made Soomin giggle harder, ignoring her protests. Yeonji could feel her face heating up, half from embarrassment and half from the sudden, absurd situation she was put into.
'Something is seriously wrong with this girl.' yeonji thought.
'Yeah, she's weird.'
I raised my hand to knock one more time, my knuckles had barely brushed the wood when the door swung open. I was greeted—yet again—by Kim Soomin, standing there with that same smug, insufferable bright expression she always wore.
“Oh! The kid I’m babysitting today has finally arrived!” Soomin declared dramatically, her tone dripping with teasing and amusement.
I blinked at her, unamused. “Quit it, we only have 2 months gap.”
“Still a fetus.” She grinned smugly, crossing her arms like she’d won some kind of award for being older.
I rolled my eyes and didn’t dignify her with a response. This had been our dynamic for the past year, ever since that fateful lunch where our moms thought it was a good idea to bring us together. I still regretted letting her see me eat up those dinosaur nuggets. The teasing hadn’t stopped since then. It was annoying at first, but over time, I just got used to it. Would I ever really win against her?
A honk came from behind me. I turned to see my mom who was waving enthusiastically from the car. “Be good to Soomin, kiddo! And Soomin, I’ll bring your favorite food later!”
Soomin waved back with the same intensity. “Take care, Aunt Tone!” she called, grinning.
I only gave a small nod of acknowledgment, watching my mom drive off into the Kims’ neighborhood. Shifting my focus back to Soomin, I found her standing like a human barrier in the doorway.
“Move,” I muttered, trying to shove her lightly to the side and get past her, but of course, nothing’s ever that easy with Kim Soomin. She always had a trick up her sleeve, something to pull me into whatever nonsense she was up to. And while I wouldn’t admit it out loud… it was fun, most times.
Soomin didn’t budge. “Password.” the girl challenged, that insufferable grin plastered on her face again.
“Password?” I repeated flatly.
“Yup. You need the password to enter my palace.”
I sighed deeply. Fun, I thought sarcastically. Not today. Not when I had a deadline looming in two hours and I wasn’t even halfway done with my paper. I knew how this guessing game would go—thirty minutes of pointless banter, and I couldn’t afford that. There was absolutely no way she was wasting my time today.
With no other choice, I stepped forward, ducked low, and wrapped my arms tightly around her waist. “Wait—Yeonji—” she started, but before she could react, I straightened up, hoisting her clean off the ground and onto my shoulders like a sack of rice.
“YAH! YEONJI!” Soomin shrieked, struggling and smacking my back with light slaps as I carried her into the house, “PUT ME DOWN!”
Too late. We were already inside. I grinned triumphantly as I set her down, watching her shoot me a glare that lacked any real venom. A small laugh escaped me despite myself.
“You’re ridiculous,” she muttered, brushing herself off dramatically.
Ignoring her, I brushed past her to drop my bag on the couch. “Two hours,” I said, pulling out my laptop. “Don’t. Bother. Me.”
“Two hours?” Soomin echoed, trailing behind me with that same mischievous energy. “You’re giving me way too much credit if you think I’ll last that long.”
I ignored her and powered up my laptop. Soomin always had to have the last word, and I wasn’t going to let her win today—at least not completely.
Time passed quickly, as it often did when I was at the Kims’ house. It was hard to believe that just a year ago, we barely knew each other, and now, we talked like there was no end. Soomin was still the same, endlessly teasing and extroverted but I’d grown more talkative around her, too. We listened to each other when it counted, and while I’d never say it out loud, her company was something I looked forward to.
“…Joobin's coming over in a few minutes”
I blinked, catching only the tail end of what she’d been rambling about. “Baking?” I guessed, knowing Soomin well enough by now.
“Correct! She wants to show me a new recipe she learned recently. Oh, and she doesn’t know you’re here.” Soomin’s voice carried from the kitchen. “You said you weren’t joining us when we talked about this last week, so—”
“I wasn’t supposed to!” I cut in, exasperated. “This was an emergency, okay? I’m supposed to be at home finishing this stupid paper!” I groaned, rubbing my temples. “I’m tired of seeing your face, for one.”
From the kitchen, I heard her scoff. “Yeah, sure. That’s why I’m babysitting you right now.”
Before I could respond, an apple sailed through the air. “CATCH!”
Reflex took over, and I caught it easily, though my heart jumped at the sudden assault.
“Don’t do that again!” I scolded, glaring at her as she poked her head into the living room, looking entirely too pleased with herself.
“You're boring,” she teased, flashing that infuriating grin.
I huffed, set the apple on the table, and tried to refocus on my laptop. “For the record,” I said loudly, “I’m not here because you’re babysitting me. My mom had an emergency, and I had no choice.”
“Blah, blah, blah,” Soomin replied dismissively, waving her hand as she moved to the front door.
I glanced up. “Joobin?”
Soomin grinned back at me. “Yup!"
I heard the front door open and footsteps outside. Soomin popped her head into the living room, eyes bright with anticipation. “Joobin’s here. Get ready. You’re joining us.”
I shot her a flat look. “I’m not. I’m working.”
"You say that now.”
I rolled my eyes. I knew how this would go—I’d say no, they’d drag me into the kitchen anyway, that’s just how it always was with Soomin.
The kitchen had become impossibly noisier now that Soomin had someone else to talk to—Joobin. Yeonji, still in the living room, eyes glued to her laptop screen, couldn’t help but keep her ears tuned to the commotion unfolding in the next room.
It wasn’t clear what Joobin was saying, but Yeonji recognized the sharpness in her voice, the familiar tone of someone scolding Soomin for something. Again.
Soomin, of course, had tried to drag Yeonji into the kitchen with her earlier, chattering on about how baking was “more fun with three.” But Joobin, quick to catch on, had intervened before Soomin could escalate her pleading. Joobin’s dry insistence—“Let her study. You’ll make her regret it,” was Yeonji’s saving grace.
Still, even with her escape secured, Yeonji couldn’t fully ignore the noise. It was as if a string were tied to her, tugging gently toward the kitchen. Just for a second—just a peek, she told herself.
“Is it that interesting to listen to, really, Yeonji?” The thought echoed in her mind, steeped in her own sarcasm, as if she were mocking herself for the strange, involuntary urge to check in on them. It wasn’t as though the chaos was anything new, but—
Yeonji cut herself off and sighed, shaking the thought away. She pressed her fingers firmly against the keyboard, eyes narrowing at the blinking cursor.
Focus, focus, focus, she scolded herself for what felt like the hundredth time.
And yet, her ears remained traitorous, always zooming in on every muffled sound, every faint outburst that slipped through the wall.
CLANG.
Yeonji’s head snapped up. The sound of utensils hitting the floor rang through the house, followed by Joobin’s unmistakable voice, panicked and half-yelling.
Then came Soomin’s screech, loud enough to drown out everything else.
Yeonji exhaled loudly, rolling her eyes with a look of resigned exasperation. Of course. Her lips twitched into a small, unwilling smile as she pushed herself up from the couch and walked toward the source of the noise.
The scene that greeted her wasn’t even surprising at this point—it was just so Soomin.
Utensils were scattered everywhere, powder dusted across the floor, and Joobin stood at the counter with her hands on her hips, glaring daggers at Soomin. And Soomin—Soomin looked like she had just swam through a sea of flour, hair a mess, face covered in white powder, and wearing an expression that was far too pleased for someone who had clearly caused the disaster.
Yeonji froze in the doorway for a beat, taking it all in. Instead of scolding Soomin, like she probably should’ve, a quiet laugh escaped her lips. She shook her head in disbelief, the corners of her mouth tugging upward against her will.
“Kim Soomin…” Yeonji murmured, voice half fond, half amused, as she crouched to pick up a stray whisk from the floor. Her gaze lingered on Soomin, powder-dusted and clueless, and before she could stop herself, Yeonji reached out and brushed some flour from Soomin’s hair.
It was a useless gesture, it didn’t make a difference. She knew that. But somehow, Yeonji did it anyway.
“Stupid,” she whispered under her breath, barely audible, her fingers still sifting through the girl’s hair. There was no bite to her words, only a softness she didn’t bother to hide.
Soomin blinked, momentarily confused. “Huh?”
“Nothing,” Yeonji said quickly, straightening up just as Joobin turned her scolding toward Soomin once more.
“I left for ONE minute, Soomin! One minute! How do you make this much of a mess that fast?!”
“I was just—just trying to help!” Soomin defended herself, holding her flour-covered hands up like it proved her innocence.
“You call this helping?” Joobin shot back, gesturing wildly to the ruined kitchen.
Yeonji watched the exchange unfold, biting back another laugh. Soomin’s antics were ridiculous, but there was something so… endearing about it all.
Eventually, she turned on her heel and left them to their mess, slipping back into the living room. She sat down, her laptop still open in front of her, the cursor blinking impatiently on her unfinished paper.
She stared at the screen, trying to pull her thoughts back to her work, but her mind wandered anyway. Back to flour-dusted hair, to Soomin’s sheepish grin, to the ridiculous way she somehow managed to turn a kitchen into a war zone in under a minute.
Yeonji sighed and leaned back against the couch, tapping her fingers against the keyboard absentmindedly.
She’s just amusing, that’s all, Yeonji reasoned to herself.
But even as the words echoed in her head, they felt flimsy and insincere. Because Soomin wasn’t just amusing, and Yeonji knew it.
Still, she shrugged the thought off.
'Just a little,' she admitted to herself. 'Just a little.'
The faint hum of the kitchen filled the space as Soomin set the last dish to dry. Yeonji, towel in hand, methodically wiped it clean, her movements slow and deliberate. They had just finish eating dinner together and this kind of quiet felt rare when Soomin was around. It is comfortable, though.
Yeonji didn’t even realize how the silence had stretched until Soomin broke it.
“You’re surprisingly good at this, you know?”
Yeonji huffed, rolling her eyes. “Wow, thanks. Are you that shocked I’m capable of basic tasks?”
Soomin grinned, unapologetic. “A little.”
There was no bite to it, though—just Soomin being Soomin. Yeonji shook her head, but the small quirk of her lips betrayed her amusement.
“You should’ve properly helped Joobin earlier instead of making a mess,” Yeonji muttered as she dried the glasses in front of her.
“I was helping,” Soomin insisted, arms crossing defensively. “Joobin’s the one who keeps hovering like I’m five. You saw it.”
Yeonji raised an eyebrow. “She hovers because you act like you’re five.”
Soomin let out a dramatic gasp, hand flying to her chest. “I’m offended.”
Yeonji didn’t even look at her. “Good.”
Soomin swatted at Yeonji’s arm in protest, her touch light and fleeting, like it didn’t mean anything. But it lingered in the air between them, somehow.
Soomin who was finally done, leaned against the counter, arms still folded, while Yeonji took her time with hers.
“You can be really serious about everything,” Soomin said suddenly.
Yeonji didn’t bother turning around. “And you’re not serious about anything.”
“Not true,” Soomin countered, her voice softer now, almost thoughtful. “I can be serious when I want to.”
Yeonji glanced at her finally, skepticism plain on her face. “Yeah? I’ll believe it when I see it.”
Soomin shrugged, smiling like she knew something Yeonji didn’t. “Guess you’ll have to stick around long enough to find out.”
Yeonji snorted, rolling her eyes as she turned to put the last glass in its place. “What a terrible offer.”
Soomin grinned wider. “You’ll survive.”
It was back to quiet again—almost. The kind of quiet that felt like something was about to happen. Yeonji, finished with everything, turned back around only to find Soomin still watching her.
“What?” Yeonji asked, brushing her hands against the towel.
Soomin didn’t answer right away. She just shrugged again, as casual as ever. “Nothing. You’re just…” She paused for a beat, like the word was already on her tongue but she was hesitating to say it. “Pretty.”
It slipped out like it didn’t matter, like Soomin said things like that all the time. But she didn’t—not really. Not like this.
Yeonji froze for just a fraction of a second, her expression betraying nothing, though Soomin caught the faintest hitch in her breath.
“What are you talking about?” Yeonji replied flatly, her tone dismissive. She didn’t turn around, didn’t meet Soomin’s eyes, instead reaching for the dish towel again like she needed something to do.
Soomin’s smile softened, the usual teasing absent from her expression. “Relax, Yeonji. It’s not a big deal. I just said you’re pretty.”
Yeonji froze for half a second, fingers brushing over the dish towel like it was suddenly the most interesting thing in the room. “You say the weirdest things sometimes,” she muttered, her voice quieter now careful, almost.
Soomin tilted her head slightly, watching her. “Don’t you get that a lot? You know, people telling you you’re pretty?”
Yeonji glanced up at her, startled, before scoffing lightly and turning back to the towel in her hands. “What kind of question is that?”
Soomin shrugged, a small grin tugging at the corner of her lips. “A fair one. You are, though. Just saying.”
Yeonji didn’t respond immediately, her fingers still smoothing over the fabric, slower this time. “You’re so weird,” she murmured, quieter than before.
Soomin’s grin grew, back to her usual self. “And you’re too grumpy. I should start charging for compliments,” Soomin shot back, her tone light, teasing.
Yeonji huffed, grabbing the towel and folding it neatly before setting it down. “Okay, we’re done here,” she said abruptly, cutting the conversation short.
She turned on her heel and started walking back to the living room, quick and purposeful, as if putting distance between them might help shake off whatever weird feeling was lingering in the air.
“Hey, wait!” Soomin called after her, but Yeonji didn’t slow down.
It was pointless, though. Soomin was right behind her, matching her steps easily, even bumping into her shoulder lightly on purpose. “Why are you walking so fast? Are you that allergic to compliments?”
Yeonji shot her a glare over her shoulder. “Can’t you just be quiet for once?”
By the time they reached the living room, the air between them still felt charged with something Yeonji didn’t want to name.
Yeonji checked her phone for the time, her mom still nowhere near arriving. She huffed and sank onto the couch, pretending to scroll through her messages.
Soomin plopped herself onto the seat beside her, close enough that their shoulders almost touched.
Yeonji side-eyed her. “What do you want now?”
“Nothing,” Soomin said, her grin wide and teasing. “Just hanging out with my surprisingly adorable and pretty best friend.”
Yeonji didn’t respond. She just stared at the screen in front of her, her grip tightening slightly around her phone.
It was just another Thursday, she told herself.
Except it wasn’t.