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you're not alone pt 1.

pairing - hyun-ju x reader summary - studying abroad in korea felt like a great idea, until you realized how hard being by yourself in a new country was. that is, until you meet the tall, beautiful woman who happens to speak perfect english. and maybe things start to feel not so lonely warnings - afab!reader, post-tranistion!hyun-ju, some brief homophobia, explicit sexual content, 18+ minors dni!! reader's messages are pink, hyun-ju's are purple, and others are black!

You hadn’t really planned on applying to the study abroad program. It was one of those things that always sounded nice in theory–something you’d hear about from upperclassmen or those perfectly filtered Instagram girls. But for you? It felt like a dream you weren’t quite bold enough to chase.

Still, when the sign-up sheets went up during your sophomore year–neatly printed with phrases like “global learning,” “immersion,” and “cultural exchange”–you found yourself lingering by the bulletin board longer than usual. The Korean program especially caught your eye. Something about it felt…right.

Maybe it was all the late nights you’d spent curled up in your dorm room, reading feminist theory through a global lens. Or the lit seminar where you’d first read Han Kang and felt your heart wrist in ways you couldn't explain. You were majoring in Women’s Studies with a Literature concentration, after all–what better way to broaden your perspective than to actually go somewhere different? To live it?

So you applied. Almost on a whim. And when you got accepted, it felt like a sign. A call to something bigger than yourself.

But now…here you were. In Seoul. All alone.

It had been three weeks since you landed, and everything still felt off-kilter. You kept smiling politely and bowing too deeply. The subway maps blurred when you tried to read them. You hadn’t made any friends–not real ones. Not the kind who understood how exhausting it was to translate everything, to guess your way through conversations, to always feel like an outsider even when no one said it out loud.

Most days, you wandered the city with a tense jaw and quiet determination. Some afternoons, like this one, you retreated into quiet little cafes, trying to convince yourself that knitting a new scarf or reading a comforting novel would be enough to anchor you. That the ache in your chest wasn’t loneliness–it was just culture shock.

You tucked yourself deeper into the corner seat, the oversized knit sleeves of your sweater pulled halfway over your hands. The cafe was warm, but the chill from outside still clung to your bones. Your Kindle sat in your lap, untouched for the past few minutes, while your thumb mindlessly hovered over the next-page button.

You were trying to read. Trying to distract yourself. But your ears still rang with the tension of the day–getting lost on the train, misunderstanding someone who’d tried to give you directions, eating a dry convenience store sandwich alone in a park.

You hadn’t even taken off your headphones when someone approached. You almost didn’t hear her voice until you saw the shadow fall over your table.

“Excuse me?”

You blinked up, tugging your headphones off and setting them on the table. A girl stood just beside you, her dark hair brushing over her shoulders, her coat slightly unzipped to reveal a thick brown turtleneck.

“I just wanted to say…I really like your sweater,” she said, smiling gently. Her English was crisp–clearer than anyone else’s you’d heard in weeks.

You blinked again. “Oh. Um…Thank you.” You looked down at yourself, a little self conscious. “I uh, I knitted it.”

Her eyes widened. “You knitted it?”

You couldn’t help the small smile tugging at your lips. You weren't used to people reacting like that. “Yeah. It took me a few weeks. I started it before I moved here.”

“That’s so cool,” she said, her voice warm with real excitement. “It suits you. The color. The shape.” She tilted her head, then hesitated. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to bother you…”

“No, you’re not,” you said quickly, surprising yourself. “You’re really not. I–I was just reading, but…thank you.”

There was a pause. Not awkward. Just…open. “I’m Hyun-ju,” she offered, nodding toward the empty seat across from you. “Mind if I sit?”

Your heart fluttered, a little cautious but aching for the company. You nodded, then introduced yourself.

She sat, shrugging off her coat, and you saw the gentle line of her smile up close now–a little bashful, a little curious. “Are you studying here?”

“Yeah,” you exhaled slowly. “Just started. It’s been…a lot.”

“I bet,” she murmured. “I’ve heard it can be tough. Even for Koreans. Especially if you’re here alone.” You looked at her. There was no pity in her eyes. Just understanding.

“It’s hard to even find someone who speaks English well,” you admitted. “I feel like I’m annoying everyone I talk to.”

Hyun-ju chuckled softly. “You’re not. I promise. I work at a cafe part time–this one, actually. You just picked my day off,” she grinned. “But if you ever want help or…just someone to talk to, I wouldn’t mind.”

You hesitated, your stomach fluttering. “Are you sure?”

She nodded. “Absolutely. Do you want my number?”

You did. You handed your phone over to her, and she texted herself so she would have your number too.

“I’m really glad you said something,” you said quietly, almost like a secret.

“Me too. And if you ever have questions–any kind. Even the ones that feel dumb–you can ask me, okay?”

You nodded, and for the first time in days, the tension in your chest started to unravel. Hyun-ju smiled, reaching into her bag and pulling out a second scone, wrapped in a napkin. She pushed it across the table to you without a word.

And just like that–you weren’t alone anymore.

It started with small questions. Texts that blinked across Hyun-ju’s screen at random hours–polite, shy, always with a little apology at the start.

hey, sorry to bother you but how do i say “no bag, please” at the register?

Or:

can you explain how the trash sorting works again?? i messed it up in my dorm and feel like a criminal

Sometimes Hyun-ju would reply in seconds, sometimes hours later between shifts–but her tone was always patient, never rushed. She never made you feel silly for asking things that, to everyone else around you, seemed obvious.

no bag = 봉투 필요 없어요 (bong-too pi-ryo eop-seo-yo) you got this💪 and don’t worry about the trash stuff everyone messes it up at first, even locals

You’d giggle to yourself reading those messages. You’d screenshot her romanizations and practice under your breath before going to the corner store. Sometimes you’d type out longer questions and delete them again, afraid of being too much. But the more she answered, the more it felt okay to try.

And slowly, it shifted. One day you called her after accidentally getting off at the wrong subway stop.

You were on the verge of tears, standing in a crowd of commuters that all moved too fast, too confidently. You had no idea which direction to go. When Hyun-ju picked up, her voice was calm and warm in your ear.

“Okay, okay. Breathe, sweet girl. What do you see around you?”

She talked you through the map like it was nothing. Stayed on the line until you were safely headed the right way, even joked about how she once rode the train all the way to the end of the line on accident because she fell asleep.

You started calling her more after that. Not often. Not every day. But enough that her name became a kind of comfort in your contacts list. Her voice a little lighthouse whenever you felt lost.

You still didn’t hang out much. Not yet. You saw her once or twice–once when she passed you a free coffee over the counter on a rainy day, once when she waved at you across the bookstore and came over just to say hi. But even without being together often, she lingered in your days like warmth in your coat after you’d come inside.

You found yourself telling your mom about her. “I met someone here,” you said on a call one night, wrapped in your duvet, legs tucked up under you. “She’s really sweet. Her name’s Hyun-ju.”

Your mom had leaned into the camera, smiling. “Is she in your program?”

“No, she’s a local. Works at a cafe. She just…” You hesitated, heart warm. “She just talks to me like I belong here.”

You told her how Hyun-ju never made you feel dumb. How she’d texted you an audio note once to help with pronunciation. How she used too many emojis when she was trying to make you laugh, and how her laugh was kind of contagious even through the phone.

Your mom said she was glad you had someone. That made two of you.

The days were still hard sometimes. You still got lonely. But little by little, the silence didn’t feel so crushing. Little by little, her texts made the city feel smaller. Little by little, it started to feel like maybe you had a place here, too.

You hadn’t expected the invitation. It came casually, like most of Hyun-ju’s texts–sincere and low pressure.

we’re all hanging at the cafe after hours wanna come by? it’s nothing crazy, just tea and snacks :)

You stared at the message for a long time before answering. Even the thought of sitting with strangers made your stomach tighten. But she’d asked. Hyun-ju asked. And you were so tired of being alone all the time, of watching the world happen around you like it was behind glass.

So you said yes. You even put on lipgloss.

The cafe was quieter than usual when you arrived–soft jazz playing from the speakers, the smell of roasted beans clinging to the air. The main lights were off, only the warm, golden scones by the walls still glowing.

Hyun-ju spotted you right away and waved from the back corner, already seated with three others–two girls and a guy, all chatting comfortably in Korean.

You hesitated at the door, fingers curled around your bag strap, before making your way over.

“Hey!” she said, grinning. “You made it!”

“Yeah,” you breathed. “Hi. She scooted her chair so you could squeeze in beside her, then quickly introduced you to her friends.

The others look up with friendly curiosity–offering shy smiles, little waves. One of the girls said, “Hi, nice to meet you,” in accented English, and you gave a tiny wave back, already clutching the warm mug someone had slid toward you.

“Nice to meet you all too,” you murmured.

And then the conversation flowed back into Korean. You sat quietly, trying to follow the rhythm, the rises and falls of their voices. You caught a word or two here and there– “school,” “weekend,” “funny”–but most of it blurred past you like wind through branches.

Hyun-ju leaned in now and then to explain something softly. “They’re teasing Min-Jae because he spilled a whole tray of drinks last week.”

Or–

“She’s talking about this date she went on, but the guy was late and didn’t even apologize.”

You laughed quietly when prompted. Smiled politely. Nodded, and sipped your tea. But still, you felt it–that invisible wall between you and the table.

They weren’t unkind. Not at all. But the longer you sat there, the more you felt like an extra. A guest in a space that wasn’t built for you. You were inside the circle, technically, but not really in it. Not in the laughter that came too fast for you to keep up with, or the inside jokes that spun over your head like clouds.

You studied your mug, then the delicate crumbs of a rice cookie on a napkin in front of you. Your jaw ached from holding a smile too long.

When Hyun-ju touched your arm gently–just a brush of her fingers–you looked up, startled. “You okay?” she asked in English, soft enough that no one else heard.

You nodded a little too quickly. “Yeah. I’m fine.”

Her eyes lingered. As if she knew you were lying. But she didn’t push. Just smiled, soft and warm, and poured you more tea.

You stayed an hour before excusing yourself. They all said goodbye kindly–one of the girls even gave you a hug–but your chest felt hollow on the walk home.

You texted your mom that night, curled up on your floor with your face in your hands, the city lights glowing through your curtainless windows.

i hung out with hyun-ju and her friends today i felt kind of invisible though i don’t think they meant to but it still sucked

Your mom replied with love, but it was Hyun-ju’s message that made you tear up.

hey hope you got home okay i’m really glad you came. i know it’s hard thank you for trying 💙

And somehow, even though you still felt out of place…that helped.

The days after the cafe hangout were quiet. Not completely silent–Hyun-ju still texted you every now and then. Still sent the occasional meme, or a photo of a latte she thought looked “too aesthetic to drink,” followed by:

ur kind of vibe, right?

But you took longer to reply. Kept your responses short. You told yourself you were just busy. But really, you were retreating.

Not because of her–never because of her, but because you hated the way you’d felt that night: like a decorative piece set at the edge of the table. Smiling and sipping tea while laughter spun around you like wind you couldn’t catch.

It wasn’t her fault. But it still made you feel small. So when she texted you again, you hesitated before opening the message.

hey i was just wondering if maybe you’d wanna come over this weekend? just you. we can do tea and snacks again. but no strangers, promise. i’ll even let you judge my candle collection

You stared at the message, heart thudding. It was like she’d felt it too. The subtle shift. The way you’d withdraw into yourself. Your fingers hovered. Then typed:

okay. i’d like that. can i bring cookies??

Her apartment was small–barely three rooms–but it was hers. And it was warm.

You stepped inside and were immediately hit by the soft scent of something sweet–coconut and honey, maybe–and the sound of a playlist humming gently through a tiny speaker by the bookshelf. Her walls were dotted with postcards and thrifted prints, and a sleepy looking cat blinked at you from the couch.

“You have a cat?” you asked, surprised.

Hyun-ju grinned as she slipped off her slippers. “She came with the apartment. She’s the real landlord.”

You laughed–a real one this time–and set your bag down beside the door. She took your coat, handed you a pair of fuzzy socks (“Mandatory,” she’d said seriously), and led you to a floor cushion near the low table, where two mugs were already steaming.

“I got that chamomile you said you missed,” she said gently, like it was nothing. Like she hadn’t gone out of her way to remember.

Your throat tightened. “I brought cookies,” you said quietly, holding them out in a crinkled bakery bag. “From that place you told me about.”

Her eyes lit up. “Oh my god, these are dangerous. We’re finishing all of them.”

For the first hour, you mostly talked about nothing. Easy things. Favorite movies. Bad dates. How she almost failed a public speaking class in college because she kept giggling during presentations.

She let you pick the playlist after that. Let you rant about a frustrating professor. Let you sit in silence when you needed to, both of you sipping tea as the sky outside turned soft with everything.

At one point, she reached across the table–not to take your hand, not to crowd you–but just to tuck a stray thread back into the sleeve of your sweater.

You watched her fingers. The gentleness of the gesture.

And finally, you said it. “I felt really out of place the other night.”

She paused, then nodded. “I know.”

You swallowed. “I don’t think they meant it. But… I didn’t know how to be there.”

“I should’ve sat closer,” she said softly. “Translated more. Or maybe just…not invited you into something that wasn’t really built for you.”

You shook your head. “I wanted to come. I wanted to feel normal.”

Hyun-ju looked at you for a long moment, her expression unreadable and full of something tender. “I don’t want you to feel normal,” she said. “I want you to feel wanted.”

Your heart clenched. The room was quiet again. Her cat blinked lazily at the wall. And then she smiled. “But, uh…If you do want to feel superior, I can show you the candle I bought last week that smells like banana bread but somehow also like feet.”

You snorted. “Show me. Immediately.”

That night, when you finally made your way home, your cheeks were sore from smiling. And you realized something as you curled up in bed: you didn’t just have someone you could text. You had someone who noticed when you were fading. And gently pulled you back into the light.

It started with another text.

hey…would you mind proofreading something for me? it’s for women’s lit. i’m nervous about the phrasing🥲

Hyun-ju replied ten minutes later, already halfway through your attachment.

your ideas are solid you’re overthinking the sentence length, though. i’ll mark a few spots

You didn’t expect her to be so thorough. She sent back a marked up Google Doc, full of little suggestions–some grammar, some stylistic–but always gentle. Never pushy. She even added a few comments like “this sentence is beautiful,” and “this hits hard in the best way.”

You stared at her feedback for a long time, heart full. No one had ever read your work like that before.

So when Friday rolled around and you found yourself sitting on your bed with a fres batch of snacks, a vacuumed rug, and a blanket fresh from the dryer…you bit the bullet.

would you maybe want to come over for movie night? like… just us again you can wear pajamas. i’m literally in socks and a hoodie lol

Her answer came quick.

absolutely. omw🩵

Your studio apartment wasn’t much. A twin bed pressed against the window. A small couch you’d found secondhand. A hot plate and a kettle, a cluttered bookshelf full of half read theory and novels. But it was yours.

And now it held her.

Hyun-ju stepped inside in grey sweats and a loose white tee, a tote bag over her shoulder and her hair pulled into a low ponytail. She looked…unfairly cute. Relaxed in a way that made your chest flutter.

“You weren’t kidding,” she said, glancing around with a soft grin. “You really are wearing socks and a hoodie.”

You tugged your sleeve over your palm. “I promised comfort, didn’t I?”

She kicked off her shoes and flopped down on the couch without hesitation, curling her legs up. “This place is cozy as hell. Like a little bookworm nest.”

Your face warmed. “That’s the goal.”

You pulled out your knitting basket from beside the couch, almost shy. “I was working on something earlier, if you wanna see?”

Her eyes lit up instantly. “Oh my god, yes, please. I’ve been dying to see what else you’ve made.”

You settled beside her, pulling out a half finished scarf–soft and moss green with tiny ribs of texture.

Hyun-ju reached out, fingers gentle against the yarn. “This is so beautiful. You made all of this?”

“Yeah,” you ducked your head. “It’s kind of meditative. Makes me feel less…floaty, I guess.”

She looked up at you then. Really looked. “Your hands must be so patient,” she said quietly. “No wonder your writing’s so careful.”

You bit the inside of your cheek to keep from melting.

You picked a rom-com–something light and easy to half watch–and settled under the blanket together. The couch was small, so your thighs touched, even when you both tried not to make a big deal of it.

Half an hour in, you shifted, stretching your legs out gently. Without thinking, your feet rested across her lap, your socked toes brushing the hem of her sweatshirt.

You stilled. “Sorry–”

“No,” she said, smiling softly. “That’s okay.”

Her hands moved naturally–one resting beside your ankle, the other casually smoothing the edge of the blanket over your shins. Like it was second nature to hold you like this. Like warmth belonged between you.

You turned to glance at her, and looked back at the same time. Both of you grinning, caught. “Wait,” she whispered, grabbing her phone. “We need a photo. For documentation. And for your mom.”

You laughed and leaned close. You could smell her shampoo–lavender and something warm. The flash went off once, then twice.

You blinked at the second one and said, “We look so cozy.”

“She’s gonna be obsessed with me,” Hyun-ju joked. You sent it immediately.

move night💕 she brought tea. i made cookies look how comfy we are😭

Your mom replied almost instantly.

I LOVE HER ALREADY!!! tell her thank you for taking care of my baby🥹

You tucked your phone away, smiled soft and sleepy. The movie played on, mostly forgotten. And there you were. Curled up under a blanket. Your feet in her lap. The only sound is her quiet breathing, and the occasional rustle of her fingers against the yarn still sitting at your side.

For the first time in a long, long while, you didn’t feel like a guest in your own life. You felt home.

i got my paper back

Hyun-ju’s reply came fast:

AND???👀 100🥲 she said my analysis was “elegant” which… i have never been called before in my life i told you it was good!!! okay that’s it we’re celebrating, no arguments.

You laughed, staring at your screen, heart full and light.

how should i celebrate? knitting in a bubble bath? i mean yes but also me and my friends are going to this bar in hongdae tonight nothing wild, just drinks and music no pressure, but…i’ll buy ur drinks if you come🥂🎀💅

You stared at the message. Your chest fluttered with nerves. The last time you tried to hang out with her friends, you felt like a misplaced puzzle piece–but still…she’d asked again. Still wanted you there.

You thought of how good it felt to see her in your space. To be seen and held and warmed. You didn’t want to just live inside your safe corner forever. You didn’t want to drag her away from her life to fit into yours.

okay… what time should i meet you?

You stood in front of the mirror, adjusting the tuck of your sweater where it curved into your waistband. The long, slate gray skirt hugged your hips, the subtle slit brushing high on one thigh whenever you walked. Paired with high-top platform Converse, a black knit sweater, and your favorite earrings, it felt like you. A version of you that showed up.

Your hands trembled a little as you smoothed your skirt. You’re not trying to impress her, you told yourself. You just want to celebrate. But your heart whispered back: yes I am.

The bar was warm and low-lit, with little hanging lanterns over the booths and thudding bass vibrating the wood floors. You hovered in the doorway until you saw her–Hyun-ju, seated in a booth toward the back, half laughing over something one of her friends had said, a bottle of soju half titled in her hand.

Her eyes caught yours instantly. She lit up. She waved both hands, her hair bouncing on top of her shoulders, and then she was up and moving through the crowd toward you.

“You came!” she said, half shouting over the music.

“Of course I did,” you said, trying to sound calm. “You offered free drinks.”

She laughed, pulling you into a half-hug that squeezed all the nerves out of your ribs. “Come on, I’ll introduce you.”

Her friends were already smiling when you arrived at the table. You recognized a few from the last cafe hangout, but this time…something was different. They weren’t just polite–they were trying.

“Hi, nice to see you again!” one said with a thick but determined accent.

“I like your shoes!” said another, miming a thumbs up and pointing to your platforms.

You felt the heat rise to your cheeks. “Thank you. I’m really happy to be here.”

They all cheered at that, clinking glasses in your direction. You stayed close to Hyun-ju’s side as she guided you to the booth, seating you beside her with a clear, open smile. “Okay, first–something sweet. You don’t strike me as a whisky girl.”

You scrunched your nose. “I strike me as someone who wants to drink pink things and not taste the alcohol.”

She grinned. “Say less.” She returned a moment later with two pale pink cocktails, bubbly and garnished with sugared grapefruit slices. “To your 100,” she said, tapping her glass against yours.

“To your editing skills,” you whispered and sipped. It was dangerously good.

As the night went on, your nerves melted, drink by drink. Hyun-ju never strayed far–she kept her arm resting near yours on the back of the booth, her knee bumping gently into your thigh beneath the table. Every few minutes she’d lean in and say something just for you, little side comments or translations. Her voice curled soft in your ear like a secret.

“She just said she likes your style. She thinks you look like a ‘Korean indie film girl.’”

“Min-Jae’s telling his embarrassing military service stories again. We’re all pretending like we haven’t heard them before.”

You giggled through every one. And the more they spoke, the more her friends softened around you. One even pulled out a tiny Korean-English pocketbook to look up the word “confidence.” When she found it, she pointed to you and said it aloud, proud as hell.

You blinked at her, caught off guard. “Me?”

She nodded. “Yes. Confident.”

You turned to Hyun-ju. “I think they like you,” she whispered, eyes warm and full of pride. You didn’t say anything. Just smiled and looked down into your drink, the sweetness going straight to your head.

Eventually, you shifted sideways on the booth cushion, laughing too hard at something Hyun-ju whispered. You stretched your legs out beneath the table, your heels slipping out of your platforms, and without thinking, you rested your feet lightly across her lap.

Her hand didn’t even hesitate–just settled on your shin, thumb brushing the side of your ankle. You didn’t move. Neither did she.

The group buzzed around you with chatter and laughter, but the only thing you could feel was her. Her hand. Her smile. Her presence holding you together.

She leaned in after a beat. “You’re doing amazing, by the way,” she murmured. “I know this isn’t easy.”

Your breath caught. “I really like being here,” you said quietly.

“With me?”

You looked at her. Her lashes were long and fluttery in the warm light. Her smile was careful, soft as velvet. “With you,” you said.

The bar emptied out in bursts of laughter and cigarette smoke. You and Hyun-ju followed behind her friends as they spilled onto the street, cheeks flushed, drinks still buzzing your veins. The air outside was sharp and cool, brushing hot skin and making everyone huddle into their jackets.

“We’re heading to that club near the main intersection!” one of them called out, voice raised over the music still bleeding from every open door. “The one with the neon tiger sign!”

Hyun-ju glanced at you. “Too much?”

You were warm from the drinks. Loose in your limbs, a little floaty. The crowd, the noise, the sheer aliveness of the street–it was overwhelming, yes. But her hand was so close to yours, brushing between swings of your steps.

“I can handle it,” you said, smiling faintly.

Hyun-ju’s eyes lingered, searching your face like she could reach what you weren’t saying. And then–gently, like it meant nothing–she slipped her fingers between yours. “Just so I don’t lose you,” she said with a wink.

You nearly tripped over the sidewalk. The warmth of her palm in yours short circuited your brain. You tried to act cool–tried not to stare at where your hands met like you were some girl in a coming-of-age movie–but internally, you were screaming. Screaming and spinning and melting.

They turned down a narrower alley, the crowd thickening with bodies and bass. The club was impossible to miss: tiger shaped neon snarling above the door, lights pulsing in time with the muffled beat of whatever was playing inside.

Inside was chaos.

Hot air. Packed bodies. Purple light flickering across faces. Music loud enough to make your ribs thrum. You stepped in behind Hyun-ju, still clinging to her hand, and immediately found yourself shoulder to shoulder with strangers.

You shrank in close. Her friends scattered into the crowd, pulled toward the bar or the dance floor, but you stayed pressed to Hyun-ju’s side–your body practically against hers, your face half buried into the back of her shoulder as she led you deeper in.

She turned halfway, looking back. “You okay?”

You nodded quickly. “Just… a lot of people.”

“I know. Want me to take you home?”

Your heart twisted. No, you thought. No, I don’t want you to think I can’t hang. I don’t want you to feel like I’m dragging you away. I just want to be wherever you are.

You shook your head. “I want to stay. With you.”

Hyun-ju gave you a look–gentle, soft edged, and full of something warm. “Okay. Just stay close, yeah?”

You were already doing that.

At the bar, she ordered two more drinks–something light and fizzy with crushed peach and soju–and you took slow sips while bodies swayed around you in time with the music. You weren’t dancing, not really. But your hips moved with hers in tiny, quiet motions. Her hand grazed your waist once. Then again.

Your face was flushed from the alcohol. From the proximity. From the way her eyes kept flicking toward your mouth when she leaned in to talk. You felt dizzy in the best way.

“This really isn’t your scene, huh?” she said with a laugh, lips close to your ear.

You tilted your head up to look at her, drunk on the lights in her eyes. “No. But you are.”

Her breath caught. You blinked, slow and heavy lidded, immediately panicking internally–did I just say that out loud?? Oh my god, oh my god–but she didn’t pull away. Didn’t laugh.

Instead, she just smiled. “Come on,” she said. “Let’s go somewhere quieter.”

The two of you slip out the side door, blinking into the dark.

The alley behind the club was slick with spilled drinks and neon runoff. Music still thumped through the wall behind you–muted, like a heartbeat pressed to your ear. The city didn’t sleep, not out here. Groups of guys passed by, laughing too loud, some already stumbling. A motorbike roared by on the street, too close.

You pressed in closer to Hyun-ju without thinking, seeking the familiar warmth of her body.

The soft thud of your shoes echoed as you walked, and you could feel the eyes–their eyes–raking over you as you passed. A couple of them said something in Korean you couldn’t catch. Another one let out a low whistle and muttered something with a smirk, and even though you didn’t understand the words, the tone was unmistakable.

Your skin crawled. You pulled your sweater tighter around you and whispered, “Do they always act like that?”

Hyun-ju didn’t even look at them. “Yeah,” she muttered, jaw set tight. “Hongdae’s full of douchebags. Especially around this time. And you’re a foreigner, so they think they can say whatever they want.”

You swallowed hard. “It’s gross.”

“I know.” She looked over at you, eyes catching the dim glow of an overhead light. “I’m sorry.” Your breath stuttered at the intensity in her voice. “I don’t want you to feel unsafe here,” she added, softer now. “Or like you don’t belong.”

You weren’t sure if she meant Korea or right now–this night, this moment. Either way, you didn’t feel out of place with her.

Hyun-ju slowed to a stop beside a patch of wall still dry and clean, tucked just out of sight of the main road. She leaned her back against the warm brick, legs stretched out a little, chin tilted up like the night couldn’t touch her.

You stood beside her, close enough to feel the heat off her shoulder. The silence between you wasn’t empty.

It pulsed. Stretched. Filled with the echo of every brush of skin, every sideways glance, every lingering laugh you’d shared since that very first sweater compliment in the coffee shop.

She tilted her head toward you slightly. “You good?”

You nodded, breath shallow. “Yeah. Just…kind of a lot.”

She gave a quiet hum of agreement, eyes sliding across your face. “It gets easier. You’re doing better than you think.”

“I don’t feel like it.”

“Well,” she said, nudging your elbow with hers, “you made it through a club without crying. I’d say that’s progress.”

You let out a laugh–breathy and honest–and her smile bloomed like it was her reward for coaxing it out of you.

The silence returned, heavier now. Hyun-ju looked at your lips. You looked away. Then back again. And you realized–she was already watching you.

The city moved around you. The music throbbed behind the wall. But none of it was louder than your heartbeat in your ears.

“Hyun-ju…” You weren’t even sure what you were going to say.

But she stepped in–just slightly, just enough–and the space between your bodies disappeared. Her arm brushed yours. Her knee bumped yours. You could smell the citrus and soft soap clinging to her collar, the warmth of peach soju still on her breath.

“You’re really pretty,” she murmured, like it was just for you. Like she’d been holding it back all night.

Your stomach did somersaults. “So are you,” you whispered. “I mean–thank you. I mean–”

Hyun-ju laughed, low and close. She leaned in until her forehead was nearly against yours. “You don't have to be nervous around me.”

But you were. Not in a bad way–just in the way that happens when someone who makes you feel safe is suddenly so close you can feel their breath on your cheek.

You glanced at her lips. And she noticed. Still–she didn’t move. Not unless you did. And suddenly, the line between friend and something else felt like a thread pulled tight between your mouths.

One breath. One second. One lean away from snapping.

Your breath hitched. And for a second, you thought you might lean in the rest of the way. But then your heart kicked against your ribs–too fast, too loud–and the panic hit: what if I read this wrong? What if she doesn’t want–what if I mess this up?

You pulled back just slightly, just enough for air to slip between you again. “Sorry,” you said quickly, voice higher than you mean, eyes darting anywhere but her mouth. “I–I didn’t mean–”

But Hyun-ju was already smiling. Soft and warm and just barely there. Like a secret. She didn’t tease. Didn’t look disappointed. She just tilted her head and let the moment dissolve, catching it like a snowflake on her tongue before it could melt into awkwardness.

“It’s okay,” she replied quietly.

You swallowed hard. Your face was on fire. You weren’t sure if it was the soju or the sudden rush of shame, but either way you couldn’t look at her yet. Thankfully, she didn’t make you.

“Do you miss home?” she asked, like she hadn’t noticed how your voice had gone all breathless, like she hadn’t seen you looking at her lips just seconds ago.

You nodded. “Yeah.” A beat passed. “I miss my mom the most.”

Hyun-ju hummed softly, leaning back against the brick wall beside you. “She must miss you a lot too.”

“She does. She always gets emotional when I call her. Even if I just text her a selfie, she’s like, “my baby’s so far away…” You mimic the dramatic sniffle with a smile, your voice catching somewhere between amusement and ache. “It’s sweet. But it makes me feel even more homesick sometimes.”

“I get that," she said. “When I lived abroad, I missed my mom’s kimchi jjigae so bad I literally cried over instant noodles.”

That made you laugh. You finally looked at her again. The way her eyes sparkled made you feel lighter. Like the pressure of what almost happened had shifted into something gentler, easier to carry.

Neither of you said anything for a few seconds. The quiet was peaceful now.

Your hands had ended up close together–yours still nervously fidgeting with your sleeves, hers tucked into the pockets of her trousers. Then slowly–so slowly you almost didn’t register it–Hyun-ju’s hand slipped out of her pocket and her fingers brushed yours.

You froze for half a second. Then let your hand relax, let her touch settle. She didn’t grab your hand. Didn’t lace her fingers with yours. She just touched. Barley there. Her pinky traced along the side of yours. Her thumb bumped the back of your hand like she was testing how close you’d let her be.

And you didn’t pull away. You didn’t want to. You looked down at your hands, barely connected, the space between them buzzing with warmth.

“You don’t have to pretend you’re not scared,” she said, her voice so quiet it almost got lost in the thrum of the city beyond the alley.

You glanced up at her. “I’m not scared of you.”

“I know,” her smile returned, just the faintest tug at the corners of her mouth. “That’s why I like you.”

Your heart skipped so hard you almost swayed. Hyun-ju just gave your fingers a soft, single tape with ehrs–like a period on the end of a sentence–and then stepped away from the wall.

“Ya~!” a voice called, clearly drunk and delighted. One of Hyun-ju’s friends poked their head out, raising both brows at the sight of you standing so close together. They said something quick in Korean, teasing and singsongy, followed by a loud, theatrical whistle.

Hyun-ju groaned under her breath. She turned her head just enough to call back, “Dagchyeo!” –Shut up!

The friend only laughed and ducked back inside, the door swinging shut behind them. Hyun-ju sighed, rubbing the back of her neck with one hand. “It’s late,” she said, glancing at you again–softer now. “Let’s get you home.”

You nodded, but your body didn’t quite move yet. Part of you didn’t want to. Didn’t want to step out of the alley’s hush. Didn’t want to let go of this–whatever this is. The way her words had settled over you like a blanket. The way her fingers had traced yours like they knew exactly how you needed to be held.

But she was already turning toward the street, and so you followed, your footsteps echoing behind hers as you left the quiet behind.

Still, you felt the shape of that almost-moment clinging to you. You carried it in your chest like a secret, glowing and warm and terrifying. And maybe, just maybe, she was carrying it too.

Back at your apartment you kicked your shoes off by the door, shrugging out of your sweater and skirt as you padded around. The air inside was cool and still, the glow of the streetlights outside barely filtering through the window blinds. Everything felt too quiet after the crush of the club, the sticky bass, the heat of Hyun-ju’s side against yours.

You sat on the edge of your bed for a minute, heart still ticking too fast. Then picked up your phone. It was late. Almost 3am in Seoul. But it was morning where your mom was. You didn’t even hesitate.

The line clicked. It barely rang twice before your mom’s voice came through, a little raspy but warm. “Hello?”

“Hi,” you whispered, curling your knees to your chest. “Sorry. Did I wake you?”

“No, baby. I was up. What’s going on?”

You hesitated, chewing at your bottom lip. “I don’t…I don’t know what to do about Hyun-ju.”

There was a beat of silence. “Is something wrong?”

You flopped back onto your pillow and stared at the ceiling. “No, I mean–nothing’s wrong. She’s… she’s been amazing, actually. Like she’s the only reason I haven’t just come home. She helps me with everything. She makes me feel less lonely. And tonight we went out with her friends and…I don’t know, she just…she held my hand. And stood so close to me. And said these things and–”

Your voice cracked off. You swallowed. “I think I like her.”

Another beat. You could hear the gentle inhale on the other end of the call, the rustle of your mom shifting in her seat. “Well, honey,” she said softly, “that doesn't sound like a bad thing.”

You pulled the blanket over your legs. “I don’t want to make things weird. What if she doesn’t feel the same way? What if I say something and ruin it?”

Your mom made that thoughtful sound she always made when you were spiraling–half a hum, half a sigh.

“You’re not going to ruin anything by being honest,” she said. “Not if what you have with her is real. It sounds like she cares about you. And if she doesn’t feel the same way, then…you’ll still have a friend. But you’ll drive yourself crazy holding it in.”

You blinked up at the ceiling, your throat tight. “She’s just…so beautiful. And confident. And I feel like I’m still fumbling through everything. I don’t know why she even likes being around me.”

“Oh, sweetheart,” your mom sighed. “If she’s anything like the way you describe her, then she knows how lucky she is to have you. And you know I’ll love you no matter what.”

Your chest ached. “I miss you, mom.”

“I miss you too, baby. But I’m proud of you. And I think you should tell her. When you're ready.”

You nodded even though she couldn’t see it. “Okay.”

“Get some sleep. I love you.”

“I love you too.”

You ended the call and lay there for a long time, staring at the cracks of light on your ceiling. Your fingers still tingled from where hers had touched yours. And even though you were scared, a little part of you already knew: you were going to tell her.

The scent of shampoo still lingered in the air. You’d showered hours ago, hoping it would help clear the fog from your head. Instead, it left you pacing around your tiny apartment with damp hair and a belly full of nerves.

You hadn’t stopped thinking about Hyun-ju since last night. Her fingers brushing yours. The way she smiled after you pulled away. That look in her eyes before her friend interrupted.

So today, you did what you always did to distract yourself: you studied. Curled up on your bed in a clean pair of lounge shorts and a loose tee, you read the same paragraph five times in a row. You scribbled notes. You highlighted whole pages. You forgot to eat.

Your phone buzzed next to your laptop.

i’m bringing dinner over. hope you’re hungry! you like tteokbokki right??

Your stomach growled so loudly you could hear it over the silence. You scrambled to text her back.

omg yes thank you i didn’t even realize i skipped lunch lol good thing you’ve got me then 20 mins🛵💨

Those twenty minutes felt like hours. By the time she knocked on your door, you’d lit a candle to try to calm yourself down, cleaned up your desk three times, and changed into an oversized cardigan just for something to do with your hands.

You opened the door to see her standing there in sweatpants and a loose black t-shirt, a brown paper bag in her arms and her hair loose around her face. Effortless and beautiful. The casual kind of pretty that made your breath stick.

“Hi,” she said, already grinning. “Hope you’re ready to ruin your digestive system.”

You laughed a little, stepping aside. “You’re saving my life, honestly.”

She came in like she belonged there–placing the bag on your low table, toeing off her shoes. She plopped onto the floor, cross legged on a cushion, and started unpacking the food. The smell hit you instantly: spicy rice cakes, fried dumplings, something crispy and cheesy too.

“God, that smells so good,” you murmured, settling beside her.

“Eat,” she urged, pushing a container toward you. “You look like you’ve been studying since sunrise.”

“I kinda have.”

She smiled softly. “Nerd.”

You shrugged sheepishly, digging in. You didn’t say much after that–not because you didn’t want to, but because your chest was still tight. Everything you wanted to tell her was pressing against your ribs, making it hard to breathe.

Hyun-ju, meanwhile, talked easily. She told you about an old man who came into the cafe and tried to pay for a cappuccino with American quarters. About how she saw a little dog wearing a raincoat that looked like a watermelon. About a new show she was watching.

And you…barely answered. You nodded. You smiled. You let out a small laugh here and there. But your answers were short, clipped. Like you were holding your breath.

She picked up on it almost immediately. Mid-bite, she paused and tilted her head at you. “You okay?”

Your chopsticks froze halfway to your mouth. “Yeah. Sorry. Just tired, I guess.”

Her eyes lingered on your face. “You’ve been quiet.”

You swallowed then looked down at your lap. She didn’t push. Just waited. “I’ve just…been thinking,” you said finally. “About some stuff.”

“Stuff, huh?” she teased gently. But her gaze was soft and careful.

You nodded. “Stuff.”

She didn’t ask what. Didn’t prod or demand or tease any further. She just nudged the fried dumplings closer to you and said, “Eat more.”

And you did. Quietly. Slowly. While she kept talking like nothing was wrong. Like she knew you’d tell her when you were ready. And maybe…maybe you would.

The containers were mostly empty, your fingers sticky with sauce, your stomach warm and full in that just satisfied kind of way. You both lingered on the floor longer than necessary, chatting a little more now that the worst of your nerves had been soothed.

Eventually, you reached for the napkins. “I should, um…clean this up.”

Hyun-ju stood too. “I’ll help.”

You carried a couple containers to the sink, trying not to panic at how easily she followed. The kitchen wasn’t really a kitchen–more like a countertop, a sink, and two cabinets squeezed along one wall. So when Hyun-ju stepped beside you, her shoulder brushed yours. Warm. Intentional, maybe. You couldn’t be sure.

You rinsed out a container and handed it to her to toss, but your fingers brushed as you passed it, and you both flinched just a little. You froze for a second too long, still close enough to smell the faint trace of her fabric softener, and when you glanced up, she was already looking at you.

You dropped your gaze and fumbled for another container. “So–uh–I had fun with your friends last night.”

She leaned in slightly to toss the trash, voice smooth. “Oh yeah?”

You nodded quickly, trying to stay casual. “Yeah. I mean…I was nervous, but they were nice. And it was fun. Loud, but fun.”

Hyun-ju smiled at that. “They love clubbing. They’d go every weekend if they could.”

You laughed softly, setting a cup in the sink. “I don’t usually go out like that. Not my scene.”

She leaned against the counter now, arms folded, watching you from way too close. “But you had fun.”

You looked over at her and gave a tiny shrug, your fingers still toying with the edge of the sink. “Yeah. It was…fun.”

That word again. Loaded and dangerous. Her gaze stayed steady. “Yeah. Fun.”

There was a pause–short, but deep enough to feel like you'd stepped off a curb. Neither of you moved. Neither of you said anything. You could hear your own heartbeat. Feel it in your throat.

You reached blindly for a napkin just to give your hands something to do. “Sorry,” you mumbled. “I’m being so awkward right now.”

Hyun-ju chuckled, soft and amused. “You always say that.”

“I am though!”

You tried to laugh it off, dabbing at an invisible spill, but she gently reached out and took the napkin from your hand, tossing behind you into the trash. You froze. Her fingers brushed yours again. On purpose this time.

“Maybe I like it,” she said.

You stared at her, lips parting–but before you could say anything, before your brain could decide whether to run or reach for her, she stepped back. Just a bit.

Not far. Not enough to forget the closeness. Just enough to give you room to breathe. But even still…you didn’t want her to leave.

The apartment had gone quiet again, save for the hum of your tiny space heater and the soft music from your phone’s playlist in the background.

You both ended up back on the couch. The takeout was put away, the kitchen mostly cleaned, and the weight of the day–not to mention the last few–was finally settling into your limbs. You curled under the same blanket as last time, legs tucked beside you, your knee almost brushing hers where she sat reclined on the other end.

Hyun-ju was flipping through Netflix with the remote. “Okay,” she said. “Something relaxing. Nothing scary. Nothing sad. And definitely no English subtitles–I’m off duty tonight.”

You gave a quiet laugh. “But then I won’t understand.”

She clicked on some lighthearted Korean variety show, grinning. “That’s fine. You’ll get the vibe.”

You raised your brow but didn’t argue. And she was right–after a while, you did get the vibe. You had no clue what was being said, but the cast’s dramatic reactions and ridiculous games made it easy enough to follow. You found yourself giggling along even if the jokes went over your head.

Then, quietly, Hyun-ju said something in Korean–her voice soft and lilting.

You blinked. “What?”

She just looked at you with that coy little smile. “Nothing.”

You stared suspiciously. “That wasn’t nothing.”

She shrugged, sinking lower into the couch, one hand tucked behind her head. “If you didn’t understand, then it can’t be important, right?”

You narrowed your eyes. “It sounded filthy.”

She raised an eyebrow. “Did it?”

You rolled your eyes but smiled anyway, heat rising in your cheeks. “I’m gonna make you teach me everything you say one day.”

Hyun-ju gave a mock sigh. “That would ruin all my secrets.”

You were just about to fire back a smart reply when your phone buzzed in your lap. A picture from your mom.

You unlocked your phone and smiled instantly. It was a photo of your dog, curled up in her usual spot on the couch back home. Her tongue poked out a little in her sleep.

“Awh,” you said softly. “My mom sent a photo of Berry.”

Hyun-ju leaned over, and you could feel her body shift against yours under the blanket. Her cheek nearly brushed your shoulder as she peered at your phone. “She’s cute. Is that your dog?”

“Yeah,” you replied. “She’s really old. Fourteen now, I think.”

Hyun-ju gave a soft, warm laugh. “Oh. So like me?”

You turned your head to look at her, startled–and found her already watching you, a teasing glint in her eye.

You let out a surprised giggle, a little flustered. “You’re not that old!”

“Mm,” she hummed. “Twenty eight feels old when you’re hanging out with someone still in undergrad.”

You nudged her with your elbow. “Well. Twenty one feels like a baby when you say it like that.”

Hyun-ju grinned and looked back toward the TV, but she didn’t move away. Her arm stayed there, warm and close beside yours. Your fingers weren’t quite touching, but it wouldn’t take much. A shift. A reach. A choice.

You glanced at her again, but she was just quietly watching the show. At ease. Her presence was grounding and intoxicating all at once.

And suddenly, your dog wasn’t the only thing making your chest ache with homesick longing. You just…didnt’ know what for.

You weren’t sure how much time had passed.

The show had long since ended, the screen now idling with soft background music as recommendations scrolled past. The blanket was pulled a little higher over both of you, though neither of you moved to get more comfortable. You were already too comfortable–warm from dinner, from being next to her, from the drinks still humming faintly in your blood from the night before.

The apartment was dim and quiet now. Just your tiny lamp lit the room in a yellow glow, and it cast soft shadows across Hyun-ju’s face where she sat beside you.

She shifted just slightly, her shoulder brushing yours again. Her knees were pulled up, one hand draped across them, the other still resting close to yours under the blanket.

She smelled like lavender and the fabric softener you now recognized. Her lashes were long in the low light, eyes trained on the screen even though she clearly wasn’t watching it anymore.

Your phone buzzed again. Another message from your mom, this time just:

So… have you told her yet?

With a winking emoji. You stared at it. Then, very quietly, locked your phone again and set it face down on the couch cushion.

Hyun-ju noticed. “Everything okay?”

“Yeah,” you said, voice soft. “Just my mom being nosy.”

Her lips quirked. “What’s she asking?”

You hesitated. “She…thinks I should be honest with you.”

Hyun-ju’s brows raised gently, and her head tilted, attention fixed entirely on you now. “About?”

You swallowed. The air suddenly felt thick, like the room had shrunk around you. You weren’t sure you could say it–weren’t even sure what it was yet. But you wanted to. God, you wanted to.

“I dunno,” you said, fidgeting with the edge of the blanket. “I just–I’m really glad I met you.”

She watched you closely. And when she spoke, her voice was lower. Quieter. Like she didn’t want to startle whatever fragile moment this was becoming. “I’m glad I met you too.”

You looked up at her. The couch was too small. Or maybe it's just that way because you were suddenly so close. Her eyes dropped to your mouth for the briefest second, then flicked back up.

Neither of you moved. Neither of you spoke. Her fingers brushed against yours under the blanket–barely there. Like she was testing it. Testing you.

And you didn’t pull away.

Your heart was thudding so hard you could feel it in your throat. In your fingertips. In the heat crawling up the back of your neck. She was right there. If you leaned in just a little more–

You blinked, breaking the stare. Looked at the floor. The blanket. Anything. “I–uh…I need some water,” you mumble suddenly.

Hyun-ju smiled softly. Not disappointed–just…understanding. Like she could feel how badly you wanted her. How scared you still were.

She reached for the remote instead and said, “Okay. I’ll pick the next show.”

You laughed, shakily. “Deal.”

And you stood up on wobbly legs, grabbing a glass and filling it with water. You tried to catch your breath–trying to remind yourself that nothing happened. That it wasn’t a big deal.

But you knew it was. Because the way Hyun-ju looked at you just now…that wasn’t a “friend” look. That was a “kiss me already” look.

Your fingers trembled as you lifted the glass to your lips. You reread your mother’s text message before replying saying you didn’t think you could do it.

Her response came quickly.

Baby, you literally spent all of elementary school crying if your teacher looked at you weird. You’re doing GREAT! Just tell her she’s pretty and that you want to kiss her face. That always worked for me.

You laughed softly, biting your lip. And for a moment, the fear in your chest eased.

You padded back toward the living room, still sipping your water. Hyun-Ju had already queued up another show—something lighthearted, judging from the upbeat music in the intro—and was curled against the arm of the couch, blanket bunched in her lap.

She looked up when you entered and smiled. “Come here,” she said, her voice low and easy.

You moved to sit down beside her again, and before you could settle in properly, Hyun-Ju leaned forward and gently tugged at your legs. You squeaked softly as she pulled them into her lap.

She wordlessly adjusted the blanket, tugging it up and around both of you again. And then her hand returned to your leg, resting lightly over the fabric.

And her thumb began to move. Back and forth. A lazy, unconscious stroke across your shin. Like it was nothing. Like it wasn’t short circuiting every thought in your head.

Everything in you told you to focus on the show. You really did. But you couldn’t hear the dialogue over the static building in your chest.

Hyun-ju wasn’t even looking at you–her face was calm, relaxed, completely unfazed. But her thumb kept moving, slow and rhythmic, like she knew.

You swallowed and shifted slightly under the blanket, your foot brushing her side. She didn’t react. Didn’t stop touching you.

Your heart thudded wildly. You couldn’t tell if she was being playful, or flirty, or if this was just how she showed affection. You couldn’t tell if you were imagining the way her fingers paused slightly whenever your breath caught–or if you were just so far gone now that every little thing felt electric.

You curled your fingers into the edge of the blanket. Tried to breathe. Tried to watch the show. But all you could think about was her hand. Her smile. Her laugh. The way she looked at you like she wanted something–but would never push. And god…you were starting to want her to.

The warmth of Hyun-Ju's hand moved—just slightly—her fingers brushing up the curve of your calf under the blanket. You flinched. Not because it hurt. Just because it was her. Touching you like that.

She blinked, her head tilting slightly to look at you. “What’s wrong?”

You shook your head quickly, adjusting the blanket like it had betrayed you. “No—it’s nothing.”

Her brow lifted, but she didn’t press. She just smiled a little, watching your face a moment longer before turning back to the screen. You couldn’t focus. Not even a little. You spent the rest of the episode in some hellish purgatory between wanting to melt into her and wanting to run away screaming.

After a few quiet minutes, Hyun-Ju leaned forward and clicked the remote to turn off the TV. “I should let you get some rest,” she said, stretching just slightly. “You’ve got class in the morning.”

You tried not to deflate. “Yeah, okay,” you murmured, forcing a smile even though you didn’t want her to leave.

She stood, smoothing her shirt, and you walked her to the door. There was a pause before she turned the knob—both of you lingering like something more should be said.

You wrapped your arms around her instead, pulling her into a quick, tight hug. Hyun-Ju held you just as tight. But you didn’t say anything. Didn’t kiss her. Didn’t ask her to stay. She left with a soft goodnight and a hand brushing your arm. The door clicked shut behind her. You stared at it for a long time.

The next morning you were groggy, distracted, and buried in a lecture you barely remembered signing up for. You were typing half-baked notes into your computer when your phone buzzed on the desk.

coffee after class??

You smiled instantly.

yes please. plz plz. rescue me.

You met her at the café, a small corner table already waiting. She brought over your drink before you could even ask, and you plopped into the seat with a grateful sigh.

“That class dragged,” you said, already wrapping both hands around the warm cup. “Like painfully. I think I blacked out during the middle twenty minutes.”

Hyun-Ju laughed, chin resting on her hand. “Then I’m glad I saved you.”

She listened as you recounted the most boring parts of your morning, nodding along and making little quips that made you smile without trying. At some point, without thinking, you shifted your chair just slightly closer to hers.

Her arm was resting along the back of your seat now, and your head—before you could chicken out—tilted sideways, resting gently against her shoulder.

Neither of you said anything at first. You were staring at your shoes. Then hers. Then both, side by side under the table, not quite touching.

Your heart was going crazy in your chest. You took a breath. And then, before you could talk yourself out of it—“Were you going to kiss me the other night?”

You felt her shoulder shift with a quiet laugh. She glanced down at you, voice warm and teasing. “Did you want me to kiss you?”

You bit your lip. “I don’t know. Maybe.”

Hyun-Ju hummed, a thoughtful sound as she tapped her fingers lightly against her cup. “Well…” she said softly, “you get back to me on that—whenever you’ve decided.”

You looked up at her, a little smile tugging at your lips. “I will,” you said, and meant it.

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