three adjectives came to mind when you thought of bang jeemin; irritating, annoying and unfortunately pretty. only when a particular feline comes into your life, jeemin tags along barreling too.
TAGS — fluff, enemies to friends to lovers, very minor enemies, almost rivals but jeemin’s silly, suggestive at times, oblivious!yn
WORDCOUNT — 5.9k
if there was one word to describe bang jeemin, it would be insufferable. the girl could prance around the school, slapping every single teacher (that was an exaggeration) and she could still roam free afterwards. it was infuriating being her lab partner, having to clean up every other mistake while she dazed off. a comment sight to see, jeemin would constantly zone out, leaving you to do all the work in class. she was the worst possible thing to ever come into your life.
or so you thought. it had been a simple monday when bang jeemin showed up to chemistry with bruises on her legs and scratches lining her arms.
when she sat down, there was a visible wince flashing across her face. reluctantly, you whispered, “you okay?” jeemin glanced at you and didn’t bother to answer, her brows furrowed together.
fine, you thought, i don’t care.
only when the teacher had finally finished his demonstration and you were about to start the practical, jeemin turned to you, mouth agape but no words coming out before resorting to just quietly stare at you with a solemn expression.
tired of her staring, you asked, “can you help out for once?” jeemin puffed out her cheeks and nodded. the sight… was strange. the bang jeemin you knew would never do such a thing. mainly sticking to cold looks and annoyed glances at others, you had never caught a glance of a pout on her face. she was known for being a cold beauty. it was rare to catch the slightest of expression other than indifference on her face.
while you watched as jeemin picked up a vial filled with substance and a flask of sugar, your eyes widened when you noticed the label on the glass. potassium chlorate.
“jeemin!” you yelled, grabbing her wrist before she caused a mini explosion in the lab. startled, she dropped the flask onto the floor, alerting the teacher.
“is everything okay there? what happened?” mr lee asked, walking over to the both of you. you felt jeemin tense up and her pulse began to speed up. while you were thinking of explanations for your mistake, jeemin had crouched down onto the floor, picking up the glass pieces.
a whimper caught your attention and your eyes zoomed in on a small cut on your lab partner’s finger.
“don’t touch the glass,” you exclaimed, pulling jeemin up and examining her finger before turning to mr lee, jeemin’s wrist still gripped tightly in your hand, “i’m so sorry, mr lee! this was my mistake, i accidentally scared jeemin and she dropped the flask.”
“i didn’t…” jeemin tried to say but you shot a glare at her to keep quiet. mr lee sighed, exasperated. “be careful next time.” you nodded, almost cutting off jeemin’s blood circulation with how tight your grasp was.
mr lee handed you a dustpan and you kneeled down to sweep up the mess. already annoyed, jeemin decides to add fuel to the fire, whispering quietly in your ear, “why did you do that?”
you shot her an incredulous glare, “i stopped you from exploding the lab, dumbass.”
jeemin huffs. you finish sweeping up the glass shards and the contents previously inside the test tube. your lab partner does nothing more but send you brooding gazes. you’re tempted to strangle her. after dumping the mess away, you spot jeemin wincing at the cut left behind. a trickle of blood slowly drips into the sink. her face turns pales as she watches it flow.
“stay still,” you mutter, pulling out a bandaid from your pocket and gently wrapping it around jeemin’s finger. the girl only stares, not pulling away.
“you must be clumsy,” you remark, “did you fall down the stairs or something?” jeemin scoffs, “of course not.”
you let go of her finger.
“why the hell did you show up like you got into a fight? the fuck could you be fighting? the demons in your head?” you gesture at the cuts littered across her skin.
jeemin groans, throwing her head into her hands, “i’m not going to talk about it! shut up.”
“i’m just trying to help,” you raise your hands up. jeemin scowls at you, but it slowly disappears as she examines the bandaid you had wrapped around her finger.
“hello kitty..?” she mutters, “are you six?”
you glare at her. so what if you liked hello kitty? the cat was cute! and you love cats! jeemin was just being mean for no reason. you couldn’t understand how the girl had suitors of both genders lining up for her hand. she was literally a satan incarnate.
“i’m not hearing that from someone who has the coordination of a baby giraffe,” you retorted back. your lab partner frowns and huffs as she turns away from you. your eyes are drawn to the pout on her face. immediate alarm bells ring in your head when your first thought was how cute it was.
“stop sulking and help me out,” you instruct, pouring liquid and chemicals from one test tube to another. jeemin, finally, looks up from her notebook, and lends you a hand. her compliance led you two to finishing early, even after the incident from before. you wouldn’t say you were a genius, just better than average at chemistry. and maybe jeemin was slightly alright. you had achieved the correct results from the test and mr lee even praised you.
finally having a moment of peace, you sigh, contented, sitting down on the stool. jeemin, however, decides to ruin it by prodding you with her bandaged finger.
after being the victim of jeemin’s poking for several moments, you turn to her, eyes blazing with fury.
“what?” you hiss.
jeemin cowers slightly. you soften up, not expecting the girl to back off. a second passes as jeemin gulps.
“thank you, for uhm,” her cheeks turn red, “taking the blame when it was my fault. and for the bandaid, even if it’s lame and you should grow up.”
the burden forced onto your shoulders lessen. your posture relaxes.
“it’s whatever,” you say, not wanting jeemin to see how her soft tone affects you. could you really stay mad at the girl when she’s looking at you with her big, round, doe eyes? no, of course you couldn’t.
seeing her downcasted eyes after your cold reply, you can’t help yourself from adding on, “thank you for apologising.”
jeemin’s eyes flicker back up, nodding meekly. a smile tugs at your lips.
you don’t talk to her for the rest of the period.
and you don’t notice the lingering looks she sends you either.
“—i heard jiyoon unnie and jungeun finally made up,” saebi rambles. you barely hear a word, while sarang converses with her enthusiastically. you’re more focused on the basket of fries on the table.
“what were they even fighting about again?” you ask.
“i think it was something stupid,” saebi straightens up, “but wait, you know the rumours about jeemin unnie secretly being in a gang?”
you’ve heard of it. they were the most baseless rumours ever. the jeemin you knew grows faint at the sight of blood. there was no way she could be in a gang. unless she was a very good actor, or stupid. probably the latter. the imagination of her in a gang was lunacy.
“i wanna be friends with jeemin,” sarang sighs dreamily, “y/n’s literally partners with her and you haven’t introduced us before!”
saebi nods, “jeemin unnie seems really cool.”
your perception of jeemin can’t be anymore different from your friends. jeemin was literally the bane of your existence. screw her and her good-looking face that always shot daggers at you. everyone that ever liked her was blind.
“she isn’t,” you blurt out, “she’s a loser.”
saebi and sarang only shrug your hostility off.
“you always say that,” the tallest frowns, “apparently koko saw jeemin in a dark alleyway and she was holding a mysterious bag. also, she always has those cuts and bruises!”
you smack saebi’s head, guffawing, “you trust koko?”
the girl whines and attempts to hit you back, but her attempts go futile as sarang rants about her next class. as your two friends complain, you think about saebi’s observation. even in chemistry today, she showed up with multiple scratches. was that from fighting someone? no way, you could exhale and jeemin would fall over. that girl did not stand a chance against anyone, despite her domineering height. she was like a paper doll, you think.
it’s only when you get up from the table you feel a warm splash of liquid trickling down your shirt.
“oh shit, sorry dude,” a guy, you’re not sure who he is, backs up, his eyes widening as your white shirt almost turns sheer and translucent. your two friends, dumb and dumber, merely stay rooted to the ground, mouths agape in shock. you let out a groan, hastily trying to absorb the liquid with some tissue paper that saebi had thrown at you.
sarang, who’s laughing at your misfortune, says, “at least it’s just water.” you glare at her, and then the boy in front of you.
“I’m really sorry,” he offers a lame apology. you nod, tired and frustrated. you didn’t have a change of clothes and the outline of your bra was becoming increasingly visible.
brushing past the boy who was still staring, you head towards the washroom swiftly in long strides. finally reaching the washroom, you stare at your reflection in the mirror before sighing and trying to use paper towels to rid the water. maybe if you soaked most of it out, the rest would just evaporate and dry naturally. your hands dab at the fabric repeatedly, but to no avail.
whilst engrossed, you don’t notice the washroom door opening.
“oh,” you roll your eyes internally, instantly recognising the voice.
“what?” you hiss at the girl. jeemin stands at the door, her eyebrows furrowed as she gazes intensely at your shirt. her eyes zero in on a particular spot.
your cheeks redden and the urge to throw a chair at her stupid face shoots up.
“stop staring at me, pervert!”
“i-i’m not! don’t accuse me of such things!” jeemin splutters, her eyes immediately snapping back up to meet yours.
“you were literally looking at my bra, you pervert,” you cover your chest with your hand.
the taller girl shakes her head vehemently, “it was just the first thing i saw! that’s not my fault.”
her flippant attitude only makes your mood worse. despite her previous remarks, her next words are full of worry and concern, “do… do you need another shirt?”
you have two choices. either walk around with a transparent shirt and be humiliated by everyone’s gaze, or take jeemin’s shirt and be humiliated by her only. well, your disdain for the girl can only go so far.
“give me your shirt,” you state through gritted teeth.
jeemin nods and hurries out quickly. you’re left wondering what have you done wrong in your life to deserve such an unfortunate sequence of events to happen. you send a text to your friends, telling them that you were just getting another shirt and that everything’s fine. they don’t even reply. your top was clinging to you uncomfortably now. how much water was in that cup? whatever, you just hope jeemin comes back soon.
a sudden thought hits you.
what if jeemin was pranking you and she wasn’t coming back? oh my god, it would be such a jeemin thing to do—
the door swings open again.
jeemin holds out a folded sweater.
“it’s not really a shirt…”
you snatch it from her, “whatever, thanks.”
she sends you an awkward smile that morphs into a grimace as you wriggle your arms through your own shirt.
“wait—”
you throw your wet shirt onto the sink, leaving you in just your bra before slipping on jeemin’s sweater. the taller girl lets out a sound akin to a muffled gargle of words. sending a curious look at jeemin, your face flushes as you realise what she has witnessed.
in your haste to rid yourself of the uncomfortable feeling, you had forgotten the fact that jeemin was still very real and standing there. and that she had seen you in your undergarments.
“don’t you dare say anything,” you warn, pointing an accusing finger at jeemin, who merely cowers and nods meekly. unable to stand the shy gaze she directs at you, your feet carry you out of the washroom, hand gripping onto your shirt and the other adjusting the neckline of her sweater. it was warm and soft (and maybe it smelt like the girl left behind in the washroom).
you walk towards your locker, some curious looks lingering on you. maybe they had seen what happened in the cafeteria. you finally spot your two friends at your locker. sarang’s eyes light up in amusement at the new piece of clothing article adorned on your body.
“hey,” she says teasingly, “what were you just saying about jeemin?”
saebi laughs, almost choking on her own saliva as sarang spins you around, reading the words embroidered on the back of the sweater loudly, “i-land dance, bang jeemin.”
your head snaps behind, neck craning desperately trying to catch a look of the wording. no wonder everyone was looking at you!
“are you dating her or something?” sarang continues. you feel an increasing urge to rip out your hair. a hazy vision of jeemin’s smug smile emerges in your mind. damn, she must have known it displayed her name so visibly. what the hell was she thinking?
“no i’m not and shut up!” you snap, irritation seeping into your words. your friends don’t heed your words and continue making sly remarks about the sweater hanging off your shoulders. the previous feelings of warmth and comfort disappear and instead return as a heavy burden that you carry around for the rest of the day. every lesson, you can feel the burning stares of your peers, eyeing the ginormous words on your back. most were curious, probably wondering about your relationship with the dancer, but a minority were envious, no doubt the long line of people courting jeemin.
you throw your head into your hands, feeling a brewing headache caused by jeemin. unfortunately for you, chemistry wasn’t the only period you spent with the bane of your existence.
a familiar finger pokes your side.
you resist the impulse to actually throw a chair at jeemin.
for some god forsaken reason, somehow, in every class you shared with the girl, she was seated very closely to you. maybe you really had done something wrong in your past life and this was god’s way of tormenting you. it is a good punishment though, forcing you to constantly be in the close proximity of a migraine personified.
your hand clenches your pen. there’s a strong desire to stab jeemin with it (you were exaggerating, you wouldn’t go that far).
“what do you want?” you ask, massaging your temple.
jeemin’s eyes dart away and a soft but strained, “I’m sorry,” comes out of her lips.
“for?”
“mai told me everyone was staring at you today, uhm, because of the sweater…”
you sigh, shaking your head, “whatever.”
jeemin falls silent at your reply. you bask in the peace for a while before she tosses a small object onto your table. you eye it inquisitively. a tiny lollipop shaped into a heart with a piece of paper tied around it with a rubber band. you stare at jeemin curiously as her face heats up.
untying it, you read the words, ‘i heard you like sweet things.’ the neat handwriting written carefully with precision makes warmth bubble slowly in your stomach. yet, unlike previous times, it wasn’t hot with anger or annoyance, but something akin to affinity and endearment.
the bell rings and jeemin is staring at you expectantly.
you nod at her apology and unwrap the sweet treat, eagerly putting it in your mouth. it’s strawberry. you wonder how jeemin knows. the girl packs up slowly, her gaze flickering to watch you every so often. you do the opposite, keeping your eyes steadily focused on shoving your pencil case into your bag.
taking one last look at jeemin, you pull the lollipop out of your mouth and mutter, “see you tomorrow.”
you don’t stay long enough to watch her face light up with surprise.
an unfortunate part of not partaking in any sports extracurriculars was that you had to take the initiative in staying fit. there wasn’t any training forcing you to run laps or do burpees, hence the reason you were putting on running shoes at six in the morning. a regretful consequence of not joining any sports back in your first year but at least you didn’t have to run rounds around the field every week. at most, you went on a run in particularly good moods. and perhaps the lingering taste of that sweet strawberry flavour boosts your mood enough to endure a sweaty morning run.
you had to clear your mind anyway from thoughts that gravitate around the tall dancer. since when did you find her luscious black hair and luminous skin so attractive? and when have you ever felt something else for her other than murderous intent?
someone must be performing black magic on you because there was no way in hell you could develop any form of attraction for bang jeemin.
taking the same route you do every time, you appreciate the greenery and serene nature that surrounded your neighbourhood. you felt at peace with every metre you ran. well, if peace meant the lingering thought of jeemin.
your eyes trail over the various shades of green splattered around, lips twitching upwards every time you spot a puppy being walked. despite your distaste for any physical activity, running has become sort of a meditation for you. koko had mentioned it offhandedly, saying that dancing provided getaway time from the daily stressors in her life. you wonder if jeemin feels the same way.
ugh, you really couldn’t go a second without thinking about her.
inching closer to the bakery that you would always get your breakfast from, your ears perk up at the sudden meows that penetrate the quiet peace. looking around hastily, you locate the sound coming from a dark alleyway right in between the bakery and another shop.
induced with concern (and fear, what if you got kidnapped? you’ve seen kidnappers lure people with children before, who’s to say they haven’t done it with animals?), you peek around the corner warily. a figure, hunched over, covers the source of the sound. was this person doing something to the cat?
“what are you doing—?”
the person jolts up and falls down from their crouching position. you splutter with laughter accidentally. on the ground, fallen, you get a good look at the person’s face.
“bang jeemin,” you ask in surprise, “what are you doing here?”
the stranger, or jeemin, merely stares at you in shock, her big round eyes widened as she tightens her grip on a heavy bag of cat food.
“uh, i’m feeding…” jeemin gestures to the cat who’s eagerly chewing on its kibble, “meowie. i’m not allowed to bring him home.”
meowie? what type of name was meowie?
all danger signs of getting too close to jeemin fly out your head the moment you lay eyes on the cute cat. a tiny bombay cat. what a cutie!
“meowie? you couldn’t come up with a better name?” you ask, gently stroking the top of his head, just behind his ears. jeemin’s own ears flush red, “he just meows a lot! i couldn’t think of any other names.”
“how long have you been feeding him?”
jeemin’s gaze looks away, a face full of contemplation, “maybe… for two months?”
you’re instantly reminded of something saebi had said, or more so koko. jeemin, in a dark alleyway, holding up a mysterious bag. you laugh internally at the absurdity of it all. of course the girl couldn’t have been in a gang, she was just feeding a cat. you couldn’t believe how stupid people were to think that this loser could possibly be in a gang.
“sometimes when it’s raining and there’s thunder, i can’t visit meowie and i think he gets scared,” jeemin mutters, setting down the bag of cat food, “and what if he gets bullied by some kids or other big cats?” it’s such a stupid thought but you sense the worry in her words.
her eyes full of sadness and concern drives an unprompted stake into your heart. when she looks at you, it’s the pouting of her lips that causes the dam to collapse.
“i can bring meowie home,” you cringe at your own words, full of confidence, “he’ll be safe with me.”
jeemin’s entire face lights up and she beams at you happily, “really?! oh my gosh, that would be awesome!” your first thought fucks up your entire world.
you would do anything to have jeemin looking at you like that.
when did you associate bang jeemin with euphoria instead of hatred?
you didn’t have time to figure that out now. there was a literal cat purring into your palm, snuggling the extra warmth. jeemin is still brimming with delight, humming contentedly as she watches you interact with meowie. in your head, a realisation comes to mind, that spending time with jeemin wasn’t so bad after all.
over the next few days, the girl had accompanied you to get necessities for finn, his new name because meowie just wasn’t cutting it. you bought his bed, more food, some toys.
(“does he really need that many options to choose from? he’s a cat, jeemin,” you ask, pointing at the stack of wet food she had placed in the basket.
“our son needs to make his own choices!” you had briefly choked on your saliva when she referred to you two as ‘our’.)
jeemin had also whined about getting an outfit for him. hence the reason why he was currently dressed up in a shark costume, padding around the house. she had constantly spent her afternoons at your house, playing with finn and spending time with the cat. apparently, she wasn’t allowed to bring any pets home, despite her apparent love for dogs. you had engaged in a heavy debate about dogs or cats but ended up concerning when she brought up finn.
with more time spent at your house, it also held the implication of spending time with you. jeemin had become such an integrated part of your life that honestly, you really couldn’t imagine not seeing her every day. even in school, when you didn’t have the same classes and you could only catch a glimpse of her in the hallways, you would exchange shy smiles and waves, unbeknownst to your two nosy friends who were more engrossed in other things.
saebi had commented on your sudden glow, unfortunately, asking if you were dating anyone. sarang then shut down her question instantly, stating that a loser like you won’t be able to find a partner so quickly. maybe she was right.
you had also introduced jeemin to your parents, as per their wishes of wanting to meet the co-parent of finn. obviously, they loved her. your mum had whispered to you after jeemin left, saying she would love her as a daughter-in-law. you could only gape after her disappearing figure.
finn’s meows bring you out of your reveire. jeemin’s gleeful laughter combined with the domestic feel of the entire situation had launched you into fucking outer space. this whole feeling was unknown.
“y/n, isn’t he so cute?” jeemin giggles, continuing to snap a multitude of photos of finn, who was staring at his owner very indifferently.
you nod, not wanting to risk your voice cracking.
“he’s adorable! finn, come here!” the girl grabs the cat, hugging him closely. your eyes are drawn to her delighted face as she sighs happily.
a moment passes as you just watch jeemin cuddle with finn. she then turns to you, a pleased look on her face as she exclaims, “he looks kind of like you, don’t you think?”
your first instinct is to defend yourself. finn was a stupid cat who did stupid things, like constantly tripping over his toys despite being a cat, which last time you checked, is meant to be agile. is she insinuating that you looked stupid?
“you look like a dog,” you retorted instead, “maybe even a bear, but like a silly bear.”
jeemin scoffs, smacking you on the shoulder after letting finn roam free. “i do not look like a bear,” she says indignantly.
“ouch, you hit me really hard,” you whine, “it hurts, jeemin.” the girl actually looks a bit regretful and worried as she stares at your sore shoulder.
“does it really?” she asks, inching closer to check your bare shoulder. your shirt was slipping off, exposing your collarbone. her hand lifts to press against the redness, caressing it softly, “oh, it’s actually turning red!”
your face turns as red as your shoulder. you watch as her eyelashes batter and flutter, analysing your skin. her fingertips trail from where your neck meets your shoulder to the top of your arm.
“bang jeemin, are you a pervert?!” you shriek, pulling up your shirt and pushing jeemin’s hand away, “why do you keep feeling me up?”
“that isn’t…!” jeemin yells, “i’m not doing that! i was just worried! can i not be worried for my friend?!”
you’re unable to control your laughter at jeemin’s flabbergasted expression, aghast with indignation as she helplessly explains herself.
“so we’re friends now?” you ask, raising an eyebrow and nudging her with your ‘hurt’ shoulder.
jeemin flushes before rolling her eyes. yet, she says softly, “i’ve always wanted to be friends with you.”
it hits you then, that jeemin, unassuming and awkward, could only interact with you through glares and hesitant movements. her zoning out during class was probably her thinking of ways to talk to you, if the way she gaped at you was any indication. you had taken it as a sign of disdain and dislike. it couldn’t be further from the truth.
“really?” you tuck a stray strand of hair behind your ear. jeemin’s eyes follow the movement before she nods bashfully. smiling, you mutter under your breath, “that’s cute.”
jeemin returns a smile as finn meows at you.
“I’m happy we’re friends now,” she suddenly admits, “i’m happy we can just talk freely and take care of finn together.”
“i’m happy too,” you grin playfully, “i thought you were a prick.” jeemin, thankfully, doesn’t seem too affected by your words, only shaking her head in faux disappointment, “i wanted to be your friend and you call me a prick?”
“i mean, you didn’t really help much during chemistry,” you offer gingerly, afraid to actually anger the girl.
jeemin groans, flopping onto her back on the floor as finn claws at her arms, “i was staring at you but you always looked so upset and pissed!”
that’s true. even your friends had commented on your resting face.
“that’s not my fault if you don’t like my face.”
the girl frowns, staring at you, “i do like your face.”
wait, what?
“what about the sweater, huh?” you choose to ignore her, pointing an accusing finger at the girl, “giving me your dance team’s sweater with your name on it! are you searching for trouble?”
jeemin’s hair covers her face partly, but even the redness of her ears and cheeks peek through the dark curtains as she murmurs out, “you looked good in the sweater— my sweater.”
a second passes.
“uh, great?” you blurt out. as soon as the word had left your mouth, you wished desperately for god to smite you down. the unamused look on jeemin’s face doesn’t help to ease the awkwardness either. what a thing to say to a compliment! not even a thank you.
a heavy tension falls and you’re left fiddling with your hands as jeemin slows her pats on finn, who ironically, seems to have a smile on his tiny face.
“uh—” you attempt to defuse the tension but jeemin beats you to it, interrupting, “i think i got to go, it’s kind of late.”
you nod, unable to even utter a single word. your mouth just opens and closes uselessly as you watch jeemin pack her things up and leave a lingering kiss on finn’s furry forehead.
silently, you wish she had done the same to you.
“see you soon, y/n,” jeemin smiles, smaller than before but still retaining her natural cuteness. your heart aches at every metre she steps away. why were you so stupid and reckless with your words? jeemin had been extremely sincere but all you could say was ‘great’?
finn’s tiny teeth nibble into your skin as you bemoan about your stupidity. damn, you really should apologise.
despite your previous wishes of keeping your blooming friendship (and feelings) with jeemin a secret, it was getting harder and harder to keep your friends in the dark. but the look of utter shock and glee on their faces make you slightly regret your decision in revealing it to them.
saebi and sarang had been extremely unhelpful in constructing an appropriate apology. with sarang’s useless quips of serenading jeemin, (“you do know i can’t sing right?” you had said. sarang shakes her head, convicted, “it’s the thought that counts!”) and saebi’s equally ineffectual drafts of apology letters that could pass as love letters, (“saebi, i am not telling jeemin that our souls are entwined and when i inhale her, my body quivers with bliss,” you crushed the offending paper, disgusted. the younger girl only rolled her eyes and shouted, “it’s romantic!”), you had basically no idea how to apologise.
maybe you should find the wisest girl you know. eyes perking up at the sight of mai walking past, you quickly grasp the opportunity to grab ahold of her. unfortunately, and maybe to your friends’ amusement, jeemin was right beside mai. jeemin sends you a curious look but you hastily explain, “i need to talk to mai unnie, just for a minute!”
jeemin slowly nods, as if understanding (and like a cat!). mai raises an eyebrow at you, a gentle and encouraging tone as she asks, “is everything okay?”
you gulp, “i need your help.”
the faint snickers of saebi and sarang reach your ears. you send them the most threatening glare possible, but you probably just look like a fool.
“with what exactly?”
you eye jeemin and drag mai to a corner as your two idiot friends start chatting jeemin up in their own quirky ways.
“i kind of messed up and i’m pretty sure jeemin’s upset with me, but i really need to know what’s the best way to apologise to someone,” you exhale.
mai nods, a contemplative look as she offers, “i think jeemin doesn’t need a grand apology or gifts. she’s not one to hold grudges and as long as it’s sincere and truthful, i think that she would appreciate it regardless.”
it fits her. a pure and endearing person like jeemin would want a simple apology. it’s understandable. you feel immense guilt brewing when you remember how hard it was for jeemin to make friends at the start of the year. she was a transferee from another school and if not for some mutual friends, perhaps she would have ended up a loner.
“thank you, unnie,” you say with all the genuineness in the world. mai pats your shoulder and whispers, “good luck.”
you head back with mai, more confident this time. jeemin was giggling at whatever saebi and sarang were talking about. you hope that they haven’t said anything about you. god, that would be the worst. maybe sarang would even pull up that photo of you from middle school—
“oh hey, y/n! we were just talking about you!” saebi grins. you clench your fists by your side, resisting the urge to smack her. forcing a faux smile, you ask through gritted teeth, “oh really?”
turning to jeemin, she fails to stifle a smile and that’s when you know they’ve shown her the unforgettable photo of you.
“whatever, jeemin come here,” you roll your eyes, “i want to talk to you.”
the girl mentioned points to herself, “me?”
“is there another jeemin here?” you ask sarcastically. sarang nods, “i’m ryu jeemin.”
“shut up, sarang. and come here,” pulling jeemin away from your nosy friends, you bring her out of the hallway and into an empty classroom. luckily, most of the students had left already and you weren’t competing with the chatter from the crowd of people outside.
jeemin sat comfortably on a table, leaning back with her hands behind her.
“what’s up?” she asks, you can’t help but notice the hint of wariness in her tone.
taking a deep breath, you start, “i’m sorry for the way i reacted to your words the other day. i don’t know if it was your intention to like, flirt with me for fun or you actually have some form of feelings but i reacted strangely and poorly.”
“it’s okay—”
you place a hand gently on hers, “i just want to ask you something.”
“uh, go for it?”
“do you like me?”
jeemin withdraws her hand almost instantly, as if burnt and scorched, “what?!”
you frown, “you don’t have to react like that.”
“no— oh my god,” her voice is muffled by her face being buried in her hands, “i mean like, i didn’t know i was being that obvious!”
“oh. well, that’s good.”
jeemin lifts her reddened face up, staring at you with hope and adoration (how have you never seen this before?), “really?”
“yeah, would be really awkward if you didn’t like me when i like you.”
“you like me?” she repeats.
you nod, “yeah. i don’t know how or when it started but yeah. i just know that i want to stay by your side and be the one who makes you smile.”
it’s easy and refreshing to admit, because it’s true. almost possessive, you wanted to be the only one who got to have jeemin; who could hear her laughter, witness her beautiful smile and was allowed to hug and kiss her with love.
“that’s,” jeemin croaks out, “good.”
you tuck a stray strand of hair behind her ear, “yeah?”
she hums in agreement.
“i liked wearing your sweater, by the way. and i like your face too.”
“i can give my sweater to you and i like your hello kitty bandages,” jeemin says, a loopy smile engraved on her face. you store the memory of her smile into your brain.
“i would like that. do you want me to wear it every day? let people know i’m yours?” you ask teasingly. the girl actually seems to think before nodding firmly.
jeemin grins, her pearly white teeth showing, “that would be nice.”
“wow, and what should you do in return?”
“i’ll tattoo your name on myself,” she jokes as she hops off the desk, “imagine my forehead saying ‘my girlfriend is y/n’.”
you shove at her lightly, “i’m your girlfriend?”
jeemin’s arms wrap around your waist, pulling you closer and into her embrace, “yes, no backing out now.”
you throw your arms over her shoulders, giggling, “i’m fine with that.”
“that's great ‘cause i’ve liked you ever since you put on that lab coat,” your girlfriend (girlfriend!!) admits.
basking in the afternoon glow and warmth of jeemin, your heart feels contentedly full with affection and adoration for the girl. it only felt right to be in her arms.
you couldn’t believe you were saying this, but jeemin was the best thing to come into your life. thank god for finn.
