Wrote this for her birthday. Hope you guys enjoy! Let me know what you think!
Addiction is a destructive force, especially when it involves money. You were addicted to none other than Minji, the world-famous K-pop idol. The worst part is that she doesn’t even know you exist. By no means were you one of those crazy people who followed idols around or snuck into their homes.
You had spent a ridiculous amount of money to support Njz. Albums didn’t come cheap; sometimes the shipping cost as much as the album itself.
Not even in your nightmare did you imagine that your addiction to her could become so painful. It has been a year since she was last seen taking part in official activities. The last time was in front of the court before the legal case started.
It was hard to support the movement against their company, especially considering you lived in Romania, a country that knew nothing about K-pop. All your friends called you a madman for caring so much.
It didn’t matter to you what others thought. In your opinion, was your addiction actually helping you become better?
Yes.
You got a part-time job to help you buy albums. It paid enough for you to indulge in your needs while also fulfilling your wants.
Enough about your glorious life, let's get back to the humongous situation at hand.
Kim Fucking Minji was in your store, and what’s worse is the uniform she was wearing. It is the same fucking uniform as yours. At first, you thought you were imagining things and that your addiction had finally become an obsession that destroyed your perception of reality.
Luckily for you, she was real. So real that she broke a glass when wiping the table.
Your supervisor assigned you to train her, which you promptly sweet-talked your way out of, probably because you won’t be able to say a single word to her.
The supervisor trains Minji. Shockingly, Minji is quite the klutz. So far, she has messed up 3 drinks and broken two cups. It was honestly cute watching her panic so much over something so trivial when a few months ago, she was performing on the biggest stages in the world.
When she broke the second cup, you were helping her clean up when she said, “No wonder I was never allowed in the kitchen, I am a danger to everyone when I am around utensils.”
You laughed at her sudden sass.
The shift today was fun but also painful; it finally ended, and you and Minji were left to close up. While you were restocking the freezer, a voice broke the silence.
“Hey, I am Minji. I don’t think I got to introduce myself.”
I know who you are. Obviously!
Somehow, you managed to get the words out of your mouth and introduce yourself without stuttering, but the conversation ends there.
You finished most of the work and ran as soon as you finished closing. Your brain was still processing what just happened. None of your friends on Discord would have believed you even if you told them.
Like a light bulb, you realized what was happening. Minji is hiding from the camera and from all the people who see her as nothing but a doll that needs to remain perfect. It made a lot of sense. This was probably one of the few places on this planet where she wouldn’t get recognized.
That entire night, you didn’t get a wink of sleep. You were contemplating whether to come clean to her or let her enjoy the freedom in ignorance. By the time you came to a decision, the sun was already up.
You decided to let her enjoy the peace and freedom.
The rules were simple:
Don’t mention Njz.
Don’t stare at her.
Don’t make things awkward or weird.
One would think these are simple rules that can easily be followed. Which they were, except for the last one. Outside of K-pop and gaming, you didn’t have many interests. This meant that the only topics you could talk to Minji about were cafe stuff or gaming. From what you know, Minji cared little about gaming. To be thorough, you decided to keep your communication with her to a bare minimum.
But there were times when you had no option but to step in, like that one time where a customer was trying to order a particularly complex drink and Minji couldn’t keep up with her speed. When asked to repeat the order, the customer started getting aggressive, but you stepped in before it got worse.
“Thanks, but you didn’t have to step in, you know? I was just about to throw espresso on his face,” Minji said.
“As much as I would’ve loved to see that. I didn’t want to get involved in a brawl,” You replied.
No matter how hard you tried, you always had an eye on her. To the point where you memorized her routines without even trying. Like how she skips meals when she messes up, or how she gets overwhelmed during rush hour, or how she hates loud customers or sounds.
During almost every shift, you would hand Minji water or tell her to take a break when things got too complicated or loud. You even took the blame for some of her mistakes when the manager noticed.
Some nights when closing took a little longer, you would even offer to walk with her because you lived in the same direction she did, even though you didn’t. She would always try to strike up a conversation, but you would shut it down with just one-sentence answers, purely because you were scared she would be creeped out.
All of a sudden, during a long and painful shift, you get cornered by the very same girl you are trying to avoid a conversation with.
“You know who I am, don’t you?” Minji asked, her tone sharp and clear.
Surprised would be a small word for what you were feeling. So many questions went through your head.
How does she know?
What did I do to get myself caught?
How do I get out of this?
“N-no…” You managed to croak out.
“Why are you lying? I’m not going to kill you, you know?”
“Fine, I do. Trust me when I say, I had no intention of ever letting you find out or bothering you at all, nor did I join this job because I followed you here.” You ramble.
There is no reply; she is just standing there staring at you like a predator sizing its prey. The silence was suffocating.
“How did you find out?” She asked.
“Been a huge fan of yours since the day you debuted. So it wasn’t hard to recognize my bias when she appeared in front of me on a random Monday,” you answered honestly. You were scared that she would find it annoying or be repulsed by the thought of someone who knew her being here.
“How did you find out that I knew?” You questioned, trying to make it less awkward.
“It has been 2 months since I came here. Not many people offered any sort of help. A lot of them looked at me like I didn’t belong here, their eyes said what their tongues feared.”
You wanted to say something, but you knew how bad some people could be, especially to someone from a different country.
“But you. You were different. Every time I struggled to understand what a customer said, you jumped in. Always making sure that I ate during the shift by leaving some food, and the part that confirmed it was the new jeans cross bag I saw you wearing last week.” She spoke.
“Oh, God! I completely forgot about the bag being merch. I was hoping I wasn’t being too obvious, but I guess I was when you put it like that, it is like I have been screaming for you to notice,” you realized.
“You couldn’t have been more obvious even if you tried,” She stopped. “So, tell me what you want to keep your mouth shut and not tell everyone on the internet.”
“No, no, I don’t want anything. I had no intention of ever telling anyone at all. Not once did I even get the thought of telling another soul,” you replied, trying to convince her. “Look, I know the position that you are in, I know why you are here. I know what you are going through, so I have no intention of making it worse.”
Minji still isn’t confident, but she decides to give it a chance, not like she had a choice. “Fine. But, if you are ever considering doxing my location, just tell me before you do so; I can prepare myself mentally.”
“Trust me. I am not going to do anything like that. If I were, wouldn’t I have already done it?” You reply, trying to gain her trust.
“Okay. If we’re doing this, then no special treatment. I’m not Minji of NewJeans here. I’m just Minji, who keeps breaking cups. Deal?”
A few days go by, and you notice a change in Minji’s behavior toward you. She spends more time with you, but you guys barely talk; both of you just sit in silence. Whenever she has any questions, no matter how trivial, she asks you.
The most shocking change was when she randomly came up to you and asked, “I’ve been here two months, and I’ve only seen the inside of this cafe and my apartment. Please take me somewhere that isn’t work tomorrow.”
****
Both of you agreed to meet up at the train station. As usual, you wore your worn-out black jeans and a black T-shirt (colorful, I know).
You got there early, so now you were just standing there listening to music and waiting for her. Minji turned the corner, coming into your line of view. She was wearing a simple black lace; she looked perfect, just as the day you first saw her.
The moment her eyes met yours, and she waved at you, her lips curved up into her signature gummy smile, her eyes crinkled. That smile of hers is heartwarming and contagious, but also dangerous, because at that very moment, you realize that your crush on her is no longer just between an idol and a fan; it has become between a simple boy and a beautiful girl.
“So, what do you have planned for today?” Minji asked
“Not much, really, mostly just visiting some restaurants and stores that I enjoy.” You replied.
“Let’s go then, what are we waiting for?”
“The first stop today is a bookstore with a cafe inside. It's cosy and quiet; I spend a lot of time here, either working on assignments or just reading. The silence really helps calm me down.”
“Wow, interesting,” Minji replied, shocked at your choice.
“What? Are you shocked that I read?”
“Yeah, I didn’t really peg you for someone who likes to read. I thought you liked to game.”
“I like to game too,” you reply.
“At least I wasn’t wrong about that,” Minji replied
“Do you like to read?”
“Didn’t really have the time before, but now I find myself reading a lot more.”
It was refreshing to have someone to talk to while walking instead of listening to music. You and Minji talked about all kinds of things on the walk to the store. It was a 10-minute walk, but not once did it feel like either of you was forcing the conversation to fill the awkward silence.
The bookstore was like a second home to you, and you knew it like the back of your hand. “Let’s do this, you find a book that you think I would like, and I will do the same for you,” Minji suggested, to which you gladly agreed.
It took some time, but you found the book you wanted to give her. The book was called ‘If I Had Your Face’, which is about a woman navigating loneliness. She had gotten you a book called ‘Twice Shy’, which is about a male lead who helps the female lead overcome her anxiety.
“Lonliness? Really? Come on, you could have picked something with a little more meat in the story, something with suspense or comedy,” Minji complained, but she agreed when you asked to try it and return it if she didn’t like it.
You sat opposite her after ordering some coffee for both of you. Looking at her like this really made your heart clench. Someone who looked untouchable to you was sitting right here just reading. A part of you wanted to reach out and brush the stray stands of hair away from her face, but you held back.
After every page, you would take a break to admire her beauty. Neither of you spoke, just the comfortable silence of someone’s company.
“Wanna grab some lunch? We can survive on just coffee and scones for the entire day,” you suggest, breaking the silence after what felt like hours.
“Sure,” Minji replied. Packing her bag with the newly acquired book.
The next spot wasn’t a fancy restaurant but a small hole-in-the-wall restaurant that sold some amazing soup. You absolutely adored this place during the winter; it always warmed you up, and it was right next to the bookstore.
“Nice spot, I was really craving some warm soup,” Minji said as you both settled down.
Lunch was simple but filling, and you talked about your books. The conversation shifted to that one annoying coworker at the cafe, and then it went to the games you enjoyed playing.
“Hey, I’m not judging. For someone who says they are good at league, and only being in Gold is funny. I thought you would be in Emerald or higher,” Minji says, laughing after you told her your rank.
“I am good, it's just that it is seriously so hard to go rank up,” You complain.
“Sure, it is. You have more performance anxiety than I did when I had to perform in front of thousands,” Minji teased.
Having your gaming skills insulted should have stung, but it didn’t; in fact, it made you happy. Minji was finally opening up to you, seeing you more as a friend instead of just a coworker.
The teasing continued for the rest of lunch. Her laugh was music to your ears. If it meant she laughed forever, you didn’t mind being the butt of all the jokes.
After paying the bill, going back and forth about who will pay. You both head to the mall, earlier this week, Minji mentioned wanting to get some new clothes suited to the weather here, so you thought now was the best time to take her shopping.
Minji was picking out a few outfits to try on, while you just looked around the store. She tells you to pick some for yourself, which you reject, but she is quite insistent.
For the first outfit, she laughed out loud at the bright color you are wearing, “No, absolutely not, you look like a highlighter.”
The second outfit is worse than the first, but you had no choice but to put it on. The same result repeated, she was laughing so loud you were scared both of you would get kicked out.
“You hate this, don’t you?” Minji asked.
“Absolutely, with every fiber in my body.”
“Fine, you don’t have to try the other ones,” Minji whined. She then took the pile of clothes she picked for herself to try on and went into the changing room.
Everything she tried on really suited her. So, whenever she came out wearing a different outfit and asked for your opinion, all you could say was “Looks good.”
“Can you be more descriptive than just looks good!” Minji complained. It was cute how her nose scrunched when she got a little annoyed.
Then came the last outfit. It was a simple black one-piece dress with a slit. She looked perfect wearing it. The dress fit her well; it was tight in all the right places to accentuate her perfect figure.
“Well, what do you think?”
You were speechless. There was so much you wanted to say, but your brain just couldn’t process it all at once; you could feel your face heating up. How can someone look so gorgeous wearing something so simple and elegant?
“I-it’s good,” you manage to croak out.
“You know, staring silently isn’t actually a compliment,” she teased. “At least pretend to have vocabulary.”
“Sorry,” you said, looking away, trying your best to avoid eye contact with her.
“You went completely speechless,” she said with a satisfied smile. “I’ll take that as a good sign.”
By the time Minji finished buying everything she needed, it was getting late. Minji asked for a simple dinner because she was already quite full from all the food we had today, to which you agreed.
You bought a sub from a place you liked and split it with Minji. It was enough for both of you, and after eating, you walked her to the train station. The walk was slow and calm, your hand occasionally rubbing against hers. You wanted nothing more than to grab her hand and intertwine your fingers, but you didn’t want to spoil something that finally brought some peace and stability to Minji’s chaotic life.
****
A few days have passed since you showed Minji around town. Every time she showed up in something she bought that day, she would spin once beside the counter and ask if it looked familiar, and if you didn’t, she had the cutest pout on her face. Somehow, those tiny reactions became the thing you looked forward to most during your shifts.
Her pouts gave heartache. You just wanted to capture that expression and make it your wallpaper, and every time you barely managed to control yourself.
At some point, the conversations stopped being about trivial things. One night, while you were walking her home, she spoke, “You know what I miss the most? She murmured, barely loud enough for you to hear. “I miss eating ice cream after hours of practice with the members. Just us sitting together and complaining about all the stupid things we had to do.”
You kept quiet. Minji never talked about her time as an idol, and you didn’t want to push her to either. So, it was unexpected, but it made me happy that she was finally opening up.
“Now, I am here in a completely different country where I barely know anyone. I miss just being around people who shared my concerns. Something about going through hard times with them didn’t seem too bad.”
It made you realize how lonely Minji had been and how much toll the hiatus was taking on her. You wanted to hug her tightly and tell her it was all going to be all right, but you had no way of knowing if everything was going back to normal or not.
The best thing you could do for her was be there and listen. She didn’t need someone to give her false hope. She just needed someone who would listen and let her vent. You intended to do just that.
One day, while you were stocking the freezer, she mentioned that she missed Korean food, especially kimchi. It had been over 4 months since Minji moved here, and not once had she eaten food from her homeland.
The thought of her not getting to eat her comfort food stayed with you long after the shift ended. It slowly turned into a plan for what you wanted to do tomorrow during your day off.
After you woke up way past your usual time, you went straight to the supermarket. It was quite a task to find Nappa cabbage. You went to multiple stores before it clicked in your brain to try the small asian grocery store on the other side of town.
Luckily for you, that asian store had everything you needed for your long and painful mission. You were planning on making kimchi, something you had never made or even eaten. After procuring all the necessary ingredients, your first step was to go through a bunch of recipes online.
It was already past midnight when you finished making kimchi, and you were drained. Not once did you think that something that looked so simple could take so much effort. After packing it in a small container, you washed up and crashed.
The next day, when you gave it to her, her eyes lit up in the most beautiful way possible. She was so happy with the little gift that she hugged you. That single hug made all your efforts worth it. If it meant making Minji happy and getting hugs from her, then you would make all the kimchi in the world.
“Thank you! Thank you so much!! You have no idea how much I was missing Korean food.” Minji screamed in joy as she hugged the box of kimchi.
“Hope it tastes similar to what you get back home. I made it by watching recipes,” You said.
“I know it will! I’m gonna make kimchi jeon for you tomorrow,” Minji promised.
“I’m looking forward to it.”
********
Life settled into a simple rhythm of working, spending time with Minji, and sleeping. It was a normalcy that you had gotten used to, but one night that normalcy broke. Minji called you crying; she was barely able to speak, and all you heard were sobs. Without waiting, you bolted toward the door after grabbing your jacket. You rushed to her house.
A broken, sobbing Minji opened the door.
“Hey, what happened?”
“She’s gone,” Minji managed to say.
You were shocked; you had read about the situation, but you couldn’t believe that they split them up.
It was the single most heartbreaking news a fan could get. The pain of having to watch your favorite group was bad, but having your close friend taken away from you was probably worse.
“She's gone. They kicked Danielle out.” Minji explained the entire situation. She had to stop multiple times because the tears just wouldn’t stop.
All you could do was gently rub her back as she let it all out. “You didn’t just lose a member, you lost a friend, Minji. Let it all out. I can’t possibly imagine the pain you are going through.” You tried to console her.
“Those bastards won, and there is nothing we can do now. We tried everything, and now they are threatening to ruin our lives even more if we don’t agree to go back to being New Jeans as 4 members.”
For the first time that night, she looked you in the eye. Those beautiful eyes of hers were swollen and filled with tears. It hurt to see her go through this.
“The worst part is that there wasn’t a single thing that I could do to stop them. As the leader, I should have fought harder, or maybe stopped us from ever getting into this mess in the first place. Maybe what all those people said about me is true. I truly am an incompetent leader.”
You were speechless. You had no idea Minji was carrying so much guilt and pain.
“I don’t know how to fix this, but one thing is for sure: I know none of this is your fault. You were supposed to protect and support each other, not fight an entire company alone.”
Those words had a great effect on her; she was hugging you and crying even more. Her grip on your t-shirt tightened; she was scared to let go.
Minji’s sobs were all that could be heard in the room. All of a sudden, when she has finally calmed down a little. The reality sets in.
“How are we supposed to stand as 4 members on stage and pretend like nothing ever happened?” Minji’s voice cracked, sounding weak.
“Minji, right now, you don’t need to think about the future, just breathe.”
After another half an hour of you consoling Minji, she finally fell asleep clutching your t-shirt. You stayed, slowly rubbing circles on her back, and eventually fell asleep right next to her.
The next morning, you wanted nothing more than to stay by Minji’s side for the rest of the day, but you had to leave for your shift. Before you left, you made her some simple Kimchi fried rice using the ingredients from her fridge and the Kimchi that you had gifted her.
You placed the cooked rice on the counter with a note beside it that said, “ You don’t have to carry everything alone anymore. I’m here to listen. Eat and rest well, Minji. Your annoying coworker.”
After that night, something changed. The silence between you both became comfortable. It started with small things. Minji handed you drinks when you looked exhausted from the rush hour, and texted you pictures of food she tried to make, but with captions like: “This looked better in my head.”
Without realizing it, you somehow became the first person she looked for whenever she walked into work.
One afternoon, during a break. Minji sat next to you while you doomscrolled.
“Busy tomorrow?” She asked.
“Not really. Why?
“I found this place I wanted to visit.”
“What kind of place?”
“It’s a seaside town a few hours away from here. It looked so pretty in the pictures. Here.”
You looked through the pics, and it indeed was quite pretty.
“You want to go there? It’s too far,” you complain.
“It’s not like you have anything better to do.”
“Fair point.”
The next morning, you both sat beside each other on the train as it rained lightly. The ride was long enough, but it was filled with comfortable silence.
At some point, Minji nudged your hand.
“What are you listening to?”
“Nothing.”
“That means it's definitely something. Are you listening to our songs?”
“No, it’s embarrassing.”
“It’s fine, I wanna hear it too.”
You hesitated but eventually gave her one of your earbuds. The closeness made you hyperaware of everything she did, especially how her shoulders would rub against yours now and then.
The faint scent of her shampoo was enticing.
“I can’t believe you actually liked Get up.”
“What's wrong with it? It's amazing.”
“Nothing wrong. I thought not many people liked it because it was so short.”
The conversation slowly faded, but the music continued. At some point, Minji eventually fell asleep on your shoulder. You froze at first, your brain short-circuited the moment you felt her head on your shoulder.
You glanced down to see an exhausted Minji. Not the idol, not the celebrity, just a girl who needed rest.
Eventually, she woke up.
“Oh my God, it must’ve been so uncomfortable, you should have woken me up!”
“It wasn’t, and you looked like you needed some rest.”
The town was silent and serene. Neither of you really did much other than walk, try street food, and visit random stores.
At some point, you lost Minji in a small crowd. But the moment you stepped around, her eyes found yours in the crowd. The tension in her shoulders eased after she made eye contact with you.
“Don’t disappear like that,” Minji said.
“I didn’t, I was gone for all of 10 secs.”
“That’s still disappearing.”
A few days later, when you finished a particularly painful shift, Minji stops you just as you are about to leave.
“Come over for dinner.”
“...What?
“I made Kimchi Jeon.”
“You cooked?”
“Why do you sound so scared?”
“From all the pics of your cooking I saw. I am a little concerned for my life.”
Minji rolled her eyes at your comment before lightly hitting your hand.
Her apartment was much better than the last time you were here. It was comfortable and human. Books are scattered around the living room.
Minji cooked, while you sat near the counter.
“You’re staring,” Minji said without looking back.
“You almost dropped the pan twice.”
The jeon was shockingly good, given that Minji almost started a fire twice. It was also one of the best meals you've had in a while. But it wasn’t because of the food, it was her company and effort that made it special.
After dinner, both of you settled down on the couch. Minji shifted closer until your shoulders were touching.
‘... You know, this is the happiest I have been in a long time.”
Your chest tightened slightly.
A few minutes later, you glanced down and realized that she had fallen asleep against you. One of her hands held onto your sleeve like she was afraid you would leave.
The realization hit. You were so deep in love with her, you didn’t know what to do. Somewhere along the way, Minji stopped feeling like a distant, untouchable idol.
She had become someone precious to you. Someone you wanted to protect, not because she was an idol but because she was Minji.
Things didn’t work out the way either of you wanted, but eventually, reality caught up. The company wanted Minji to come back to Korea. They started discussing the future of the group.
When she told you, all you did was smile and support her.
Because what else were you supposed to do?
From the beginning, you knew there was an expiration date to this. Minji was never meant to stay hidden in a small town like this forever. She belonged on stage beneath blinding lights, not stocking shelves beside you.
So you swallowed every selfish thought you had and congratulated her.
It shocked you that she looked almost irritated when you casually offered to help her pack.
“Does it not bother you that I am going back?” Minji, her voice was quieter than usual, almost accusing.
“Bother me?” Caught off guard by her tone. “You are finally going back to where you belong. You deserve to be on stage, and I couldn’t be happier.”
She let out a short, sarcastic laugh, her eyes welled up with tears.
“Happy for me?” She reiterated. “Is that all? After everything… You are just happy for me?!”
“Yes, Minji, it’s your career. I should be happy for you! You’re an idol, I’m just a fan!”
“I told you not to treat me like an Idol,” her voice filled with pain.
“But, you are an idol, Minji. Thousands are waiting for you to go back.”
“I thought you would be different. I guess you only ever saw me as Minji the idol and not the real me.” Her voice cracked. She looked away, her jaw tight, fighting back tears. “I kept telling myself not to be stupid. That this was just temporary, that I was just being lonely. But you made me feel seen, not as an idol but as me, the real me.”
Her hand balled into a fist, grabbing her hoodie, which she stole from you.
“Now you are just telling me that you are happy for me? Acting like me leaving is nothing, like I won’t miss you or I won’t miss this!” Minji screamed.
Her eyes finally met yours, tears streaming down her face.
“I fell in love with you, you idiot!” Minji said.
“I tried so hard not to, but I just couldn’t stop. You kept showing up for me. I am so fucking pissed off because I finally found someone who I want to stay with, and that very person I want to stay with is happy to let me go.”
“W-what?” You were beyond shocked. Not once did it ever occur to you that Minji liked you romantically.
Your brain was unable to form any sentences or thoughts. But one thing you knew for sure was that you loved her since the day you saw her at the train station.
Words could never properly express how you felt about Minji, so you showed it to her. You kissed her; it was slow and passionate. It was like everything the movies described it to be.
Tags/TW: angst and drama, edgy and unsettling, mentions and description of all the bad things, a cruel story in four acts, no smut, but mentions of sex, desire, depression and mostly suicide
Thanks for 9.090 followers!
(A/N: The worst way to return with sth unsexy that I had lying around. Make of it what you will - I had different plans for this, but I'm happy I got something done. This is fic no. 149. One more to go!)
“Finally!”
“Let’s get outta here.”
“I’m so hungry, God.”
“Jake, where is my—”
“Everyone, settle down! The bell doesn’t dismiss you, I do!”
A collective groan, some curses in the back of the class, someone drops his backpack. Oh, how cliche.
“Let’s just finish this final paragraph, okay?”
“Fine. I’ll read it.”
“Then we’ll have this shit over with.”
“No cursing in my classroom!”
Snickers from the girls to your right, quick, mindless reading to your left, someone drops a pen. Didn't this happen yesterday?
“Very well done. Class is over, have a nice weekend.”
“But Ma’am, it’s only Thursday.”
“Oh. My bad. Then we’ll see each other tomorrow.”
Two dozens of bags get lifted from the ground, books and paper crammed into tight spaces, someone drops their smartphone. Yes, definitely deja vu.
“Shit!”
“Well done, Yena. I bet it’s cracked now.”
The slow turn of a delicate hand. Hundreds of scratches make the glass look like a spider’s uncarefully spread web. Someone cracks a laugh. Am I dreaming?
“I told you. Now, now, don’t cry. I’ll get you some ice cream, hm~?
Yena’s sobs and Chaewon’s coos can still be heard down the hallway. You shake your head in disbelief. Of course, this exact scenario didn't happen yesterday. It is as close to impossible as winning the yearly lottery daily, but your feeling of deja vu remains. The days blend into one another, nothing significantly changes.
The setting? The same. No one is going to paint over the old, dirty walls of this school to give them a new color, new life. They remain as a seemingly immovable constant, just like the yellow lights at the ceiling or the barely cleaned windows separating the outside from the classroom and the classroom from the floor. Maybe the weather changes, but at this point you’re even uncertain of that. Gray clouds lay on the world, an impenetrable layer that reeks of rain.
The time? The same. Your school's schedule is its most stable factor. The principal enforcing it is as certain as taxes and death. If too many teachers are missing to fill in the gaps, he himself will step in to ensure the absolute maximum of education, even if it’s 5pm. Part of this tyrannical precision is the teacher’s right to extend a lesson past the bell’s ring. It is utterly ineffective, as no one actually listens anymore, but it will never change.
The characters? The same. Not a day goes by where mostly bubbly Yena isn’t whining about something, be it the grandest of issues or a lost hair. Her best friend Chaewon is always on her side. With her calm, kind words and envious patience she is the perfect Yin to Yena’s Yang. Then there is Eunbi, the class representative, with amazing grades, amazing visuals and eyes colder than the arctis. Sakura is everyone’s crush, a girl who adores video games, looks absolutely beautiful and is a social magnet. Sadly for all the boys, she only has eyes for girls.
You could go on and on about all the other colorful characters in your class, friends, enemies, classmates, but it all leads to the same hole. The hole of repetitiveness. Not only the lives around you seem to be in an endless loop— you play along perfectly. Your thought processes all wander off into similar directions, your banter with Jimin and Chan is always about the same topics, hell, even your yawns during Mrs. Bae’s classes are perfectly timed. Day in day out, you always stay to your routine.
Isn’t it time to break out? To stand up and instead of going home, go to a friend's house? Walk through the park for another hour? Run downtown to eat some fresh churros? Your desire to break out grows, but it cannot overcome your rationale telling you:
Why am I concerned about this? Everyday life looks similar at times. So what.
A shuffle. The sound of a chair scratching over the floor brings the battle ensuing in your mind to a screeching halt and you jump. Someone is still in the classroom with you. This is unusual. Usually, you are the last one to leave. You don’t need to take a train or bus to get home, it’s just a fifteen minute walk, so unlike your classmates, you don’t need to hurry to the awfully timed public transportation. Today, however, someone decided to break with the loop.
You turn your head to search for the culprit. In the last row, someone sleeps, their head on their crossed arms, chair pushed lightly back to make the position more comfortable. In your many years of school, you have seen a couple of students sleep like this, even during class. Mingi was one of them, but he transferred last year. Yoongi as well, but he got his act together and is almost on par with Eunbi in terms of grades.
You are sure it’s her when you see chestnut-colored hair dripping down on all sides of her head. Kim Minju, the quietest person in the class. It’s been years since you heard her speak a word louder than a whisper. She is always reserved, unapproachable and frankly, you sometimes forget she is still in the same class as you. She is a fitting last remaining option for someone sleeping at their desk.
“Hey,” you speak into the room, waiting for Minju to react. She does, by lifting her head up from the scratched surface of her table. Her eyes, slightly hidden by hair all over her face, dart around the room until they find you.
“Hey,” she says in a sleepy voice. You can’t help but smile. Minju looks somewhat adorable and helpless like this. Although most of her expression is behind curtains of brown locks, she looks like a lost child searching for her parents in a crowded theme park.
“Are you okay? Don’t you want to go home?”
“Later.”
“Later? But class is already over.”
“You’re still here too.”
You chuckle a little. Her voice sounds like she is still in dreamland and her head is unable to be upright. She lays on her arms once more. She is odd and you can’t help but be intrigued by it. Carefully, you stand up and take the seat next to her. Minju looks at you with surprise in her damp eyes. You wish you could read them better as she hasn’t shown signs of being talkative.
“This must not be comfortable. I’d choose a bed over this any day.”
“It’s fine.”
You sigh as Minju turns her face away from you. This has been fun while it lasted, but she is frustrating to talk to. If she’d resent you, she would have already told you to piss off, but with this not being the case you feel like you’re just annoying her.
“Your choice. I’ll go now though.”
“Okay.”
“See you tomorrow!”
No further words from her. Minju is clearly not mentally in this place. Is this the fate of those who only dream and don’t listen in class, you ask yourself while stepping out of the room. If so, she needs to be pulled out of it quickly. Somehow.
#
Today is not going to be the same. This sentiment has been stuck in your mind ever since you woke up. However, you haven’t really acted like it. Your alarm went off the same minute it always does, you listen to the same three songs while chewing on your favorite cereal and watching the same show. Teeth brushing and time to sprint to school have remained at their bare minimum, hell, the list could go on and on. Your sentiment has just been a faint thought. Until you step into the classroom.
“And then, and then he didn’t respond.”
“Aw, I think it will be fine. You wrote him so late, he probably just fell asleep.”
“Everyone, please stay calm! The teacher is coming.”
Yena is whining about something, some boy from the grade above or below. Again. Chaewon is comforting her with the patience of all the angels in all the heavens. Again. Eunbi is urging everyone to sit down with pronounced gestures and a loud voice. Again. It’s like you’ve heard these exact sentences before. This is beyond absurd and you have to do something. You will do something.
Before Mrs. Kang starts the lesson, you take a longer route to your desk. With full intention, you pass by Minju’s desk and knock on it twice. Like yesterday, her messy head lifts from her arms and you try to find her eyes through the veil of her greasy hair.
Doing something absurd like this has left you without a plan, without any words to speak, so you just put on a dumb smile. Minju doesn’t return it. She simply flops back onto her arms. It’s like reality is forcing everyone into their positions and if you don’t fight back, it might just get you as well. You sit down on your chair and look at the unamused girl as the first couple of lines are drawn onto the board.
The lesson comes and goes like a soft wind. As soon as Mrs. Kang wraps it up, you have already forgotten everything she said. Your mind is solely stuck on how to get this terrible loop of everyday life out of your system. For some reason, you feel that the answer is with Minju, this one girl you never had anything to do with. She looks like the epitome, the greatest victim of the problem. It's time you do something for real, with a proper plan.
“Hey,” you approach her again, as the rest of your classmates fall into their usual, loud chaos.
“Hey,” Minju responds. It scares you how she has the same tone as yesterday. Maybe she hasn’t had enough sleep and rushes to school just for attendance. Her hair has also not been washed, it’s even dirtier and messier now. She kind of reminds you of a lone wolf, abandoned by everyone.
“Uhm, I don’t know how to say this and maybe I’ll sound stupid, but—”
You grab yourself a chair and sit down in front of Minju’s table. Finally, she is bestowing you with a look over her folded arms.
“—I noticed, like, how do I put it, everything is so repetitive and bland, it’s really bugging me.”
“You think so?” she whispers dryly.
“Of course! Everyone is saying the same stuff, does the same stuff, like—just look at Yena! She is always whining. And Jimin is always teasing Jun. And you’re always sleeping. I’m sorry, it’s just bothering me.”
You end your small tantrum with a sigh and hope that none of the mentioned took notice of it. It felt good letting off this steam, you were really pent up until now. However, you doubt that it was the right way to start a conversation with someone who is basically a stranger.
To your surprise, Minju starts to sit upright and plug some of her long strands behind her cute ear. Her eyes scrutinize you while her face remains blank, unamused. Then she bluntly speaks, almost at a normal volume:
“Uh-huh, and why are you telling me this?”
“Because I want to do something I have surely never done. Something that will end this vicious circle at least for a day, maybe two.”
“You can do that on your own. Why do you need me for that?”
“W-well, I think maybe it could be something interesting for you too.”
Minju still doesn’t look convinced. Who could blame her? The way you come out of nowhere and act like a slightly crazy person wouldn't convince most people to take action. In panic you stare at the ground to your left, to your right, trying to find some words to explain yourself, before—
“Hmph, you are weird. Would it be enough if we met on the weekend?”
You look at Minju in surprise. Did she just suggest that? The whisper, the calm, dry voice with not too much enthusiasm couldn’t be anyone else.
“I think we never saw each other on a non-school day, so why don’t we just meet at the gate?”
“I knew you would understand me!” you shout triumphantly and almost jump from your chair, “We can meet at the gate and see where the day leads us. You okay with that, Minju-ah?”
Minju nods slowly and a faint smile appears on her adorable cheeks. You find it amazing how she still looks so pretty, even with her lack of make-up and wild hair. She could look superbly stunning with just a bit more care put towards her face, hair and body. But you won’t judge her on that. Maybe she just had a bad day. Maybe she never cared about stuff like this in general.
“Great, then we’ll see each other the day after tomorrow?”
“Okay.”
#
Tap. Tap. Tap. The tip of your blue and gray shoes hit the paved ground in front of the closed gate. After all these years, it’s the first time you notice how smooth the black rocks beneath you are. All the footwear scratching over them for all those years polished them to the point where faint sunlight gets reflected.
It’s been quite a while since you woke up this excited. Your alarm went off at nine and with an unbridled excitement and unwarranted, but great expectation, you filled your backpack. Water, snacks, spare clothes, small games, more snacks—it’s like you prepared for a children's birthday party, sleepover included.
And like a child you stormed out of the house, early enough to not annoy your parents and take a very different route. You wandered through small alleyes, the smell of rain still oozing from the gray asphalt and beige walls. Although you enjoyed it, you wished for the sun to come out—rain, rain, go away—you are literally a child and for today, that is okay.
Your wish came true. The light gray of the clouds was no match for the sun and small patches of sky blue pop up with every minute you wait. Now, it’s only Minju who is missing. The catalyst for why you finally got over the hump and out of the lulling everyday life. She’ll be here any minute. She’s never been late for school, something she obviously isn’t very fond of, so she won’t be late for this either.
But why her? Why did it take her for you to do something like this? There is a weekend for your taking every five school days. You could’ve just ran out or called a friend and do anything but mold in your room for endless hours. It might be the thrill of something absurd, new, unnecessary but necessary. Your questions come to a halt when you hear footsteps.
You look up to see all the perfect variations of brown. Minju wears a wool dress with a stylish checkered pattern in various dirty colors, orange, green but mainly brown. Underneath the dress, a tight, cozy looking turtle neck wraps around her torso and arms in the color of chocolate chip cookies. Across her chest is the leather sling of her almost black handbag. Above all however, is the brown of her hair. Not greasy and unwashed as the days before, but smooth and combed, tugged behind her ear it hides her shoulders. Brunette excellence that delights your heart.
She stops before you. With an awkward sway, she avoids looking at you. The way her lips press together looks adorable, you can’t help but smile and disrupt the silence.
“Hello, Minju! So awesome that you could make it.”
“He-hey,” she waves at you instead of keeping eye contact for long. This seems to not be her cup of tea, but you won’t let your mood get dampened. She will hopefully get into it.
“I had a lot of ideas of what we could do,” you begin and straighten your back. Even like this, you aren’t that much taller than the girl wearing her, of course, brown shoes, “But first, I wanted to know what you think. What are you feeling today?”
“What I feel?”
Her eyes force your attention on them. Now that you can look into them mostly undisrupted with better lighting than in the classroom, you see a certain dullness, listlessness, even lifelessness in them. It takes you out of your childish dreams, the naivete that builds up. You take a step closer towards her. She tenses up.
“I-I just mean, what you felt like doing today. If you’re not feeling well or anything, that’s fine. A-are you—”
“No, no, it’s okay.”
She laughs it off with a wave of her soft hands and takes a step back. You can feel that something is off. Maybe you got her on a bad day. Or maybe even in a bad time, judging from how she looked throughout the week. It’s not the perfect day to make her jump over some mental barriers. Or maybe, this is the perfect day after all. The day to wake up, to get life back into your veins, to feel it again.
You smile at her and scratch the back of your head.
“Okay then. Do you have anything in mind? Your dress looks unfit for a round of rugby, so I guess…”
“Wait, what?” Minju furrows her eyebrows, but then falls into laughter when she sees your playful smirk, “Oh, for a second I thought!”
You see her laughing face for just a split second before she hides it behind her hand. It’s cute, heartwarming even and you instinctively join her. In this moment, where all tension is lost in a simple joke, you forget that this is the first time you heard Minju laugh. In your presence, she’s never been this loud and bright before.
It’s like the clouds open just a tad bit more—the same way your relationship might open up a bit more on this simple day.
“I can’t believe you thought that, Minju-ah. How should I fit a rugby ball and a dozen other players in this backpack?” you playfully mock her and she gets shy, while still giggling.
“I dunno, I’m sorry. That was just dumb.”
“Nuh-uh, you’re fun. I might not have a ball inside here, but I have this.”
You open up one of the many zippers and pull out two candy bars. The see-through plastic holds sweet caramel and toffee wrapped in chocolate. Sweetness wrapped in brown goodness—just like Minju, but you won’t make that joke. This is not a date with flirts but a rebellion against dullness. You hand one of the bars to Minju. Her eyes light up.
“What? I love those! How did you know?”
“I guess I’m good at guessing, I guess.”
“Ts, you sound like a child,” Minju mockingly replies, but opens the plastic wrap with child-like anticipation and urgency. You chuckle and observe how this sleepy head became lifely with just some candy.
“I’m okay with being a child. We can go to the playground if you want.”
You take the first steps downtown and Minju follows you, her full mouth protesting your decision.
“No, stop. I, yum, made up my mind.”
“You always speak with your mouth full?”
“N-no. Shush, let’s go grab something. I want, hm, a smoothie. Or ice cream.”
You smile that she finally found something, but you can’t stop teasing the cutie that finally caught up to you.
“And then we go to the playground?”
A hit on your shoulder.
“Yah! I’ll make up my mind, pabo.”
#
“Oh man, that was something,” you sigh, taking off the 3D-glasses. From smoothies and ice cream, you somehow got out of her that she wanted to go watch a 3D-movie at the other part of town. It still took more convincing from you until she told you which movie it was. Although it’s certainly not your type of film, you still went with her.
“It was so good! When I thought I got all the clues, they still tricked me.”
Minju has her fingers cutely formed into a fist as you too walk out of the theater and onto the street. Although it’s not yet completely dark, you feel the evening coming and this fun day ending. As Minju still goes on about how intriguing the case was and how she thought the gardener was the murderer, you tap her shoulder.
“I still don’t get why this is a 3D-movie. Like, why? Why have these effects for a detective movie?”
“You’re a pabo. It’s to pick up on the clues better! Ts, I told you that.”
“Well, maybe I’m just too dumb for these movies,” you rub the back of your neck and watch the annoyed, but finally fully alive Minju become flustered. She pouts and pulls at your arm.
“I-I didn’t mean it like that. I hope you still liked it, I’m sorry.”
“Minju-ah, I’m playing around! Looks like you’re the pabo.”
It baffles you. How can this girl look even cuter, with this shocked, angry, playfully fun expression on her fairy-like features? You feel your heart filled with warmth. Your mind is freed at the sight of Minju and at the thought of how the two of you got out of this loop. Nothing is the same as before.
“It’s getting late,” you say and take a quick look at your phone to confirm the time, “Should I accompany you home? It might be dark before you get there.”
They fall. Minju’s bright eyes sink. The glow in them gets tainted by the dullness from before; but also pain. Pain that’s also in her weak smile that she can’t keep upright for long. Minju frowns and looks to the side, away from you. Suddenly, it’s all reset. Back to the beginning. You can’t let that happen.
“It’s of course fine if you want to go alone. O-or I could call your mum and…”
Minju fidgets, her delicate hand tightly wrapped around the leather of her handbag’s sling. She stares onto the tip of her feet. She looks cold, lost, like a forgotten child in the midst of an endless crowd of people. Things turn dark, not only because the clouds once again hide the sun, but also because Minju’s voice isn’t filled with excitement, but downright mourning.
“Mum, no. No, it’s okay. Thank you, but I’ll go home on my own.”
“Are you sure? Is there, is there some way I can help?”
“I think—”
Minju hesitates. Her fingers fiddle with her dress, then with each other, before she stuffs them into her pocket. She gives you an apologetic look, one that tries to convince you that there is nothing to hide and that things are just the way they are. Your heart tells you to not play along. There is something that’s really hurting her. So bad that it turns her back to the Minju, sleeping through life and all it has to offer. You have to lift the veil, you—
“—I should go on my own. It’s not that far, nothing will happen, hm.”
“Okay, uhm, was nice though.”
Your tongue betrays you. This is not what you want. It might be a smooth way to get out of the awkwardness, but it doesn’t get you closer to the problem. Something hurts her and you want to know it.
“Yeah, it was. Guess I’ll see you in school.”
The last chance, but you won’t take it. No reason to stir up conflict. The day was good, it got you two closer and things inevitably changed. Why risk it?
“Yeah. Have a great Sunday, Minju.”
“You too. Bye.”
She gets a hand out and gives a small wave. A small wave, a small smile, but it’s all rushed and it's painful to look at. The beauty wrapped in all the chocolate colors turns around and quickly steps out of your reach. The reach of your hands, of your eyes, of your voice.
“Bye.”
#
Sunday went by quickly as it always does and Monday greets you with the usual. Not the kind of usual you can always return to. The restaurant with your favorite vibe, the table in the hidden corner, the always comforting food. This 'usual' is what you're looking for, not the same old gray in the sky, same old cracks in the walls, same old chatter in the classroom. It's jarring.
It makes you appreciate your new friend more. Minju is not quite usual today. She doesn’t look gloomy, her silky, clean hair is crested with a cute, pink barrette and she greets you with a smile and a wave. The usually dark bags below her eyes are partially hidden by a simple, yet effective touch of make-up. Minju’s beauty shines through her imperfections and you find yourself slightly blushing at the sight.
“Hey,” you say with a small smile and carefully place your elbows on her desk.
“Hey,” Minju responds, backing off a tiny bit. She reaches for her notebook. It’s blue, mostly tattered and the pages are empty. ‘Oh no,’ she mouths, eyes still drawn to her bag below.
“Are you alright? Need something?”
“I… I think I forgot my pencil case,” she whispers shyly and tries to hide her face.
“Oh, I can give you one of mine.”
Hand her the pen and she bows thankfully. You both smile at each other a final time, before the teacher enters the room. You get ready to shuffle your chair back to your desk, but Minju’s soft voice makes you freeze in place. It’s like she opens the gate to new possibilities with just a couple of words.
“I hope, uhm, that you had a nice Sunday.”
“Th-thanks, Minju, I hope you did… too.”
#
Tuesday rolls around, and you couldn’t care less about the mundane things. You are excited to go to school, to meet Minju. You are excited about the brewing suspicions of your friends, which takes them out of their usual character a bit and makes the bickering interesting. With all this excitement, you swing open the door to the classroom. Everything, everyone is in order. Their eyes are on you as the door crashes against the wall with a loud boom. Your eyes are on Minju’s seat. It’s empty.
“Ey! Watch out!” Chaewon yells at you, as she tightly holds Yena’s hands. The duck-like girl quivers in fear. You must have scared her quite a lot. Tears pool in her eyes and you give her an apologetic bow.
“I’m sorry you two, I should have been more careful. Do you by any chance know where Minju is?”
Both girls shake their heads and Chaewon continues to glare at you, like she wants to stab you with a poison-filled syringe. Not that you would care. Minju not being here is a far greater concern to your mood. You fear that the day might immediately fall into the same rhythm, so you hold onto the hope that she is just late and will walk through the door at any moment. Maybe she will have the same enthusiasm as you did.
But it doesn’t happen. Not on Tuesday, not on Wednesday. The clouds do not part for two days. To say that it dampens your mood would be an understatement. Worry and annoyance have a hold on your thoughts, what teachers, parents, friends say is a nuisance and mostly forgotten. In some moments, it feels like a foul stench lingers around the campus. It gets even worse when, out of spite, you walk the same route you and Minju took a couple of days ago.
You get angry at every stop, but this anger is short-lived and when you stand in front of the cinema, it turns to sadness. The kind of sadness that twists your stomach and leaves you speechless at its intensity. If only you knew where Minju lives or what her phone number was. Those irrational worries that brew in your mind could just be gone. They range from her just being ill with a cold to something terrible has happened with her mother. You clearly remember how quickly all her joy and hype faded when you just mentioned the word ‘mum’.
Shake your head and head home. Tomorrow, Minju might just be back and if not, you’ll do everything in your power to confirm that she is alright. On Friday, you will ask her to meet again, and visit the park. You want to ask her a lot of questions and then, everything will solve itself.
#
You breathe a sigh of relief when Minju is in her seat early Thursday morning. Most of your classmates are probably still riding the bus or just waking up, depending on how they usually go about their day, so it’s just you two and Eunbi in the far corner. She studies geometry with her black headphones on. It basically feels like you're alone with Minju.
You cheerfully walk up to her, hand raised for a greeting. When you take a closer look at the girl however, you see her hair in a worse mess than ever before. It’s like someone took a pair of scissors and cut strands off at random spots. The hazelnut chaos spreads over her cheeks and what might look like bad bangs partially covers her eyes. Dark, tiny, motionless, except there is something flickering in them with unbridled ferocity. Minju’s pale skin is exceptionally pale against the large, black bags below her eyes. Her lips are dry and purple.
“Minju, are you alright?” you carefully ask and lower your hand. Your delighted mood is gone, dead, like the look on Minju’s face and her sorry posture. She looks frozen to the chair, only her knees shake as if she were in the arctic desert.
“I’m cold,” she answers, her voice tiny, dry. She coffs and you almost leap to help her. But you are not there yet. There is still no proper friendship where you can just cross the boundary and touch her.
“Can I help you with that? I can turn up the heater… or give you my jacket.”
You take off your jacket and Minju remains motionless. Her hands are in her lap, one resting on the other, the nails painted awfully messy. Her gaze mostly stays on them.
“No need, I’m just cold.”
Minju looks like she is falling, continuously, into an endless void. It’s darker than her eyes as they close and she starts to cry. However, there is no sob to hear or tears to catch. Minju just cries, in her own way and you feel powerless to step in. You can’t catch her, something is physically pulling you back. Your heart may mourn at the sight, but what is there to do, to say, to make things better?
“C-can I ask what happened? You looked so lively a couple of days ago, and now—”
Your heart spoke those words. They are like a scream to evoke some reaction out of her, but Minju doesn’t stop the sorrow overtaking her more and more. You groan in sad frustration. This sight hurts you, you can’t deal with it. You gently place your jacket on her desk and see her looking at it for a second.
“I’m sorry, I have no right to just—” You pause and ponder on a better choice of words, “I’ll be at my seat. If you need anything, I’m right there.”
Soon, all your other classmates stream into the room and take their usual positions. None of them seem to acknowledge Minju. For them, she is a figure in the background, one that might have changed a bit and even missed a couple of days, but they remain the same. Illness with two days absence plus a new ‘haircut’? Surely you wouldn’t notice it on a random classmate.
At the start of the first lesson, your very picky and meticulous math teacher immediately notices your jacket on Minju’s table. You know his eyes are locked in on it and he will call Minju out any second now. But then he hesitates, takes a closer look at the disheveled girl, and looks through the class register. His face contorts like he is in pain. This is very unlike him, and it would’ve intrigued you more if it weren’t for the gloomy feeling in your heart.
“Okay everyone, let’s start… start with, uhm. Chaewon, please tell the class what we did last lesson.”
The teacher continues to be out of sync with how he would normally act. At the end of the lesson, he calls Minju upfront. Now you’re the one frozen on the seat and watch helplessly as he calmly and concerningly speaks to her. You can’t hear him this far back, and the question is, if Minju is able to pick up any of it. She looks down at the tip of her shoes and does not react at all.
This goes on for the entire day. You can’t bear it anymore. With a final look over your shoulder, you dart out of the classroom quickly. The image in your brain is still the same: a helpless, frozen Minju, a withering girl with an unhearable cry. You notice the only difference a little bit too late, as it is barely noticeable.
Minju’s tender cheeks have the wet trails of tears.
#
Once again, Minju is not at school. This occurrence is so unusual, everyone is acting out of character. Different rumors shoot through the classroom, and they all negate each other. No one has a clue of what is happening, but they all do have an opinion. Chaeyoung in the last row says that she is probably just late, while Chan strongly believes that she is still sick and that the math teacher told her to stay home for longer. Julia has the harshest opinion though.
“I bet she is fully embracing her lazy life. She will either fail or drop out soon. That’s how it goes.”
You cover your ears. Everyone spouts nonsense, although they didn’t even talk to her yesterday. How can they be so sure? What do they know about her? Nothing. It frustrates you. The only people not involved in this except for you are Jimin, who stands by your side against these unnecessary allegations, and Chaewon and Yena. The two girls are entangled in a tight embrace and their heads are probably in a very different place right now.
Suddenly, the door bursts open. Your home room teacher and the principal walk in, both wearing a very serious expression on their faces. The rowdy class shuts up instantaneously. As if connected by one strand of nerves, everyone’s backs straighten. A gut wrenching tension fills the room, as the home room teacher sighs deeply and leans onto the front desk.
“I—this, this is hard. Excuse me, I need a second,” he says and stumbles a step forward. He is clearly not drunk, but his mind is dizzy with some heavy burden. The principal walks next to him and guides him towards a chair. Then he takes his glasses off, all fingers in a light tremble. You notice cold sweat all over his features. It’s contagious and creeps up your back.
“Class, I need you to stay strong, okay?” he begins and rubs the inside of his eyes, “I hate that I have to say this, but I hate even more that it happened. This morning, your classmate Kim Minju was—”
The principal pauses. It’s not long enough to make a large difference in his sentence, but it’s so big, you can hear the rapid pace of your heartbeat. It’s in your chest, your ear, your thumb. The burning red liquid rushes through your body. It meets the cold feeling of the goosebump and cold sweat on your skin, and this fusion almost makes you throw up. Your body gets torn to shreds, your mind is clouded. All in one pause that doesn’t really exist.
“—found dead in her home. She, she took her own life.”
In one moment, reality couldn’t be more surreal yet realistic. The stark contrast between a fragile dream and concrete reality resonates with everyone. It cannot be true, but it is. This is where they start with denial and move all the steps up to acceptance. But how can you accept the unacceptable? The voices of your classmates are background noise, but they are also all that is left. Air, matter, gravity, light, life, they all do not exist. Only the sound of gasps, cries and everything in between.
Then there is you, in pale freefall, just like the snowflakes outside. No one said it was going to snow today, yet it does. No one said Minju would kill herself today, yet she did. No one said deal with it, yet you do. You deal with it. Life goes on.
You throw your head forward and vomit over your desk. A lie knocks on your brain, on your stomach, and you vomit again. Sadly, you don’t have a reflex that will expel the disgusting shield of cold indifference out of your head. You know you will stop caring but you want to suffer. You want to hold on to Minju, the beautiful, quiet girl in class that was never supposed to walk down this dark aisle.
“You’re such an asshole at times, I swear to God.”
Yena giggles as her head rests on your shoulder. Her bare hand rubs over your sweaty, equally bare pecs. These muscles were forged in the nearby gym and Yena has them all to herself. It’s basically an equivalent exchange, because Yena is no slouch when it comes to taking care of her own body. Abs and a thin waist, they look the best when she’s fully nude. And nude she surely is. You’re each other's trophies.
“Am I?” you ask and blow out the smoke of your cigarette. You told her a story about something, something you don’t care to remember. What or whoever it might have been about probably lost and you won. Such is life. You carefully put an arm around Yena and look at the orange-gray glow of your cigarette. Your girlfriend pouts.
“Babe, be real with me for a second.”
“I’m real every second, Yena, I don’t ever lie.”
“Babe, I’m serious here!”
Yena turns to you. Her stern eyes pin you to the backboard of the bed. This is no time to joke. You hastily put the glowing stick in the ashtray and the two used condoms out of harm's way. Yena then puts her arm on your nape and you have a hard time not staring at her heaving bosom but instead at the duck-like lips that pout cutely.
“Do you really love me?” she asks quietly.
“Oh, I see how it is,” you respond with a relieved sigh. Poke both her cheeks as you usually do in these types of situations. Yena’s tension comes out through her nose like the air of a balloon.
“You are the hottest, prettiest, most desirable and most likable girl in the class—no, in the entire school.”
“Babe,” Yena blushes,”those were too many. You’re supposed to only list three things.”
“Huh? But what if I wanted to list more? Cuz it’s true.”
“Forget it,” she waves off, still blushing. ”Am I though? What about Yuri or Eunbi?”
“Okay, if you want me to list all of them,” you say, slightly annoyed, but you clear your throat regardless. ”Yuri is too crazy and not even close to your body, Eunbi is probably already married, also aloof, Sakura is gay, Hyewon is gay—”
“Wait, Hyewon likes girls?”
“Don’t tell me you didn’t notice. Seriously, the way she stares at Yuri all the time. Anyways, she is gay. Hitomi is not my type cause she’s too small, Chaewon is your best friend and not as pretty as you—”
“But she is so pretty!”
“Jeez, Yena, we’ll never finish it like this. Who did I forget?”
Both you and Yena ponder for a second, but if you’re quite honest, you do not want this argument to continue. You surely forgot a couple of girls in your class, but none of them can match Yena. She should know that, even if you don’t throw the L-word around a lot. When you do it, it’s only towards her.
“There is Minju,” Yena says in a moment of enlightenment.
“Who?” you respond. Don’t bother with the jarring task to remember who this might be.
“The quiet girl that sits in the middle of the classroom. With long, brown hair, it’s literally super long, I bet she never cuts and rarely washes it.”
“Oh I see. Yeah, no. Who the fuck cares about Minju?”
You turn to the side to cough. Yena’s face still doesn’t look amused so you do the one thing that will surely shut her up. Cup her cheeks in your strong hand and kiss her on the ducky lips. Add a simple “I love you”, and she relaxes. Her slender, naked body topples atop of yours. Finally, it’s time to go to sleep.
#
You wake up to the sound of a bell ringing. History class is over, and as per usual, you took a nice long nap at the end of it. Or throughout it. History has always been boring to you. Old guys did some things sometime in the past, wow, so impressive. It would only be a slight nuisance, but Yoongi and Eunbi always have to act smart about it. As if it actually mattered.
Can they touch the past, like you can touch Yena’s midriff right now? Surely not. The young woman squeals at your touch and you quickly pull her onto your lap. Thank God she cares as little about any dress codes as you. Even on these mild spring days she already wears clothes exposing, no, downright flexing her abs to your classmates. They see and they drool, but the only one allowed to touch them is you.
“You look sleepy, babe,” Yena says as she cups your face to inspect it.
“History, Yena, history,” you respond and force your tiny eyes wide open. Five more minutes until the next teacher arrives. Might as well enjoy the time by showing off your best trophy. Yena is better than the push-up and benchpress records, not only because she is great in bed, but also because she actually makes other people jealous.
Lift her onto your lap and give her a loud, proud and obvious hickey on her exposed neck. Yena holds onto your shoulders and holds her breath as if she would burst into moans and groans at any moment. After your deed is done, you triumphantly turn your head around. Scan the class, because someone is always looking. They can’t help themselves. Poor bastards.
“Look at her,” Yena whispers. She must be doing the same thing.
“Who?” you respond, unable to find the girl Yena alluded to.
“Minju, the one with the long, messy hair, right in the middle.”
There she is, barely three meters away from you, yet in a different realm of existence. Brown eyes lock onto yours, though you can’t make out what emotion they convey. Envy? Disgust? Pity? Well, the last two can easily be attributed to her. Minju’s entire look is appalling. Greasy hair that sticks together in clumps, dirty clothes that probably smell rancid, and an expression that lacks any kind of care or passion. Truly pitiful.
“What are you looking at, huh?” you bark at Minju. The entire class goes silent. They don’t have to hide their gazes anymore. They are only bystanders, witnesses to a tension that you know all too well. This is power, this is the way to victory. You will get your way.
Minju simply shakes her head. She rests her head on her crossed arms and goes back to her routine of dozing, as if nothing has happened. Her attitude of indifference is something you did not expect. You cannot allow such disrespectfulness.
“Get off,” you whisper to Yena, the anger in your voice not directed at her, but she still follows your command immediately. Slow strides bring you next to Minju’s desk, who senses your presence. She turns her sleepy head towards you and looks up, the same look in her dark orbs, darker than even the greasiest parts of her hair. You clear your throat in annoyance.
“I asked you a question, didn’t I?
“Care to answer it?”
Minju does not budge. She remains frozen below you, but it’s not in the way you want her to be frozen. She should be in fear, trembling, yet not moving at all, but your words, your rough tone does not seem to affect her.
“Lemme ask you again: Why were you lookin’ at us?
“I don’t care which way you swing, okay? Just letting you know there is nothing to get from us. Yena is mine, okay?
“Okay?”
You’re basically shouting at this point. Minju finally moves to put her hands up as a shield. You did not intend to punch her, not even a fist of yours is ready to strike. It’s a relief that your words can still evoke something from her. In a tiny voice that mirrors mice more than humans, Minju answers.
“O-okay. I didn’t me-mean to. Sorry.”
“You didn’t mean to what?” you growl back, voice dripping dissatisfaction from her vague response.
“Ma-make you envious.”
Pin the palm of her hand to the table below. Minju clearly lacks a quick reaction time. She only starts to gasp when the nail of your thumb drills into her sweaty hand, the pale skin growing paler, then white, and finally red. Minju hisses, but only you can hear the words.
“Stop, please.”
“Get lost.”
You leave her be, but not before giving her an angry stare. Behind the helter-skelter of her curtain-like hair, her eyes receive your wrath like a well-deserved punch. Minju drops back into the back of her chair and holds her palm with her other palm. She is reeling like a beaten down boxer.
“I’d congratulate you,” Yena snarks when you return to her. “But she is just a girl, so no respect.”
“I can never let my guard down. Not in front of anyone. Not when it’s about you,” you hum as the usual noise of chatter and laughs returns to the class. A surge of fire fills your chest, your lungs, like you’re a dragon breathing flames of destruction. The feeling of power, of being the strongest, the one who is not reckless enough to let his guard down around the seemingly weak.
If Minju really likes Yena—
“I cannot allow her to take your heart.”
“Shut it babe, you know I only like guys,” Yena giggles and playfully pushes your shoulder. “What am I saying? I only like you.”
Then you kiss her. A bit too passionate for a setting like this, but not passionate enough to still your hunger for more. More of Yena, but also more of this control. No one else can have her, not even a piece of her.
#
Damp concrete, a preferable alternative to the deep mud and grass of the nearby forest. You jog with intensity and focus, conquering the streets of your neighborhood. Usually you'd be the king of the trees, sucking in the fresh forest air around you while on the way to the gym, but today you need to take a detour.
It's a welcome change if you're honest, especially because the lousy weather keeps prying eyes away. No one to interfere with you and your in-ears, the loud music blasting through the cords as you turn corner after corner until your heels come to a screeching halt on the fine gravel in Rainbow Street.
A girl sits on the sidewalk of this street with its very unfitting name. Worn down buildings in a tiny, ugly array of gray and brown shades sit right next to each other. They are a stain in this otherwise genuinely pretty part of town, Rainbow Street my ass, such a tiny street with all the human filth in one spot—and for some reason, this girl decided to sit here, her butt probably sore from the gravel poking it.
"Looks uncomfortable," you say down to the stranger and pull out one of your in-ears. She doesn’t move her head out from in between her knees. Hell, in this posture she is certainly developing back problems. With wind blowing into the sleeves of her loose t-shirt, she’ll catch a cold first though.
“It’s fine,” she whispers in a low voice, still firmly staring at the ground as if your comment came with the wind and just passed by. Give her a weak, confused smile in pity. Usually, you’d not bat an eye at something like this. This girl probably has a house, where she doesn’t have to freeze and she probably also has water and soap to clean her dirty hair, so why bother with pity?
“Is it though?” you say with raised eyebrows. “You sit on the ground like a pile of misery and wait for the next wave of clouds for what? To let the rain wash your hair?”
You start to laugh at your own joke, which got the girl to finally move a muscle. Slowly she turns towards you and lifts her head even slower, like it hasn’t been lifted in a hundred centuries. Your laughter fades as you stare into grim, miserable eyes which stare back in hurt, agony even.
“Oh, it’s you,” you say and move to put your in-ears back in. “No business with you.”
“You’re so mean,” Minju states, her real emotions held behind the blunt statement. “Why?”
“Get lost, Minju. That’s why.”
You jog off, further down the street to quickly reach the gym. Never in your life have you felt the rising feeling of compassion switch to coldheartedness so quickly. For a second you felt like a hero that could save this cute puppy, but in the next, you realized that it actually was the disgusting, wretched Minju who had to flaunt the fact that she clearly lost control over her life.
She doesn’t even bother to take a shower or pretend to have any character. No wonder she’ll continue to be nothing but a loser in school.
#
During your workout, you thought more about the wrong classmate than about the right one. Minju, being the wrong one, has no reason occupying the free spaces in your head. You’d much rather think about Yena, the right classmate, the one with incredible charm and wit. Yena is respected, Yena is envied, Yena is your girlfriend and absolutely amazing. Minju is none of that.
Enraged about Minju’s sulking expression popping up in front of your inner eye again, you throw down the dumbbells. Someone’s shouting in anger, others stare. Enough workout for today, you need a distraction. A distraction served by the right classmate.
“Yena,” you blurt into your phone’s speaker the second your girlfriend picks up. “I’ll be at your place in 30 minutes, you down?”
“Oh my~” she responds and you can already feel her turn in her bed in excitement. “I don’t know, don’t really like sweaty boys coming into my room~”
“Since when did I come into your room sweaty?”
“I’ll make sure you’re gonna be sweaty, babe~” Yena whispers, voice sultry, dripping of lust like the sweat from your forehead and drool from your lips.
#
“Babe, promise me something.”
Yena fondles your hair and looks at you with anticipation. It’s something serious again.
“Anything for you, Yena.”
Wrap your arm around her hip and look at her, relaxed, sweaty, just like she predicted.
“Don’t, like, don’t get me wrong, it wasn’t terrible, but please, babe, don’t go too hard on her. She’s a girl, you know?”
“What are you talking about?”
“Minju and what happened in class.”
You sigh and look away in annoyance. Pull out a cigarette from the back on the nightstand. Your hand recklessly pushes off packets of pills and condoms. Why am I shaking?
“I don’t know what you mean,” you say and search for a lighter. “She was annoying, right? And disrespectful. And I know that there are girls that like girls and that there are girls that might go crazy, especially over you. I know you’re smart Yena, so you get me, right? It’s not like I beat her up or something.”
You stop yourself from falling deeper into an incoherent mess of bad explanations, but Yena is already side-eyeing you. At least she has a flame for the stick between your lips.
“Yeah, you did not beat her, but you went too far. Raising your hand and pressing down hers? Babe, that was not necessary.”
“I did it for you, baby.”
These words roll from your tongue so easily. Whatever counterpoints Yena brings up, you can easily melt her with them, reducing any valid criticism to nothing but dust.
“But, but she’s a girl—”
“And you’re the only girl for me,” you hum and blow out the smoke before turning towards her. Yena clings onto you like a koala, pouty lips, trembling eyes, and best of all: still fully naked. Press a kiss onto her lips and she gasps.
“Babe, I—”
“I love you, Yena.”
“Me, me too.”
“Let’s forget other, stupid girls and classes. You’re the hottest thing since the sun and I want you now, baby.”
Take another drag and Yena basically jumps onto you. At this point, the two of you won’t have enough sleep for the classes tomorrow. Doesn’t really get better than an extended weekend, you’ll take it with glee. Throw away the cigarette, Yena throws away the blanket. I love truancy on a Friday.
#
“You should really take your girl now!”
Chaewon’s shout is tiny compared to the ear-drum shattering bass of the large speakers right above your head. You look at her, confused, and point at your ears. Chaewon rolls her eyes and points at Yena, who is stumbling through the crowd, a large stain on her pink tube top and a half-empty bottle of vodka in her hand.
“Better. Get. Her. Out!”
Her message is clear, and it should shame you that she is more worried about your girlfriend than you are, but you’re too used to it. Yena is magnetic to parties and the parties are magnetic to her. They need each other, and usually, you enjoy yourself alongside her, but for some reason, she went over the top today. Shot after shot after shot, down her throat until her dance moves became laughable.
“Fuck, fine!”
Growl in annoyance to make Chaewon back off to her clique and drinks while you grab the wrist of your completely dazed girlfriend and drag her through the crowd. Your eyes are always at her back, her hips, her bottom. If any filthy bastard tries to touch her, you will tear off his hand and shove it down his trachea to make him regret not respecting you enough.
Outside the old barn at some outskirt of the city, Yena suddenly starts to run, bottle still in her hand, her feet faster than usual. She is an excellent sprinter, but for some reason, the alcohol pushes her to a sudden sprint. You can barely keep pace but soon catch up to her when Yena leans to a wall and—
“Yena, what are you doi—hey, are you ok—”
—violently vomits out the hard liquor and her last meal, some noodles and meatballs. You bunch up her hair and turn your head away in disgust. Yena pushes out more, the unbearable sound not seeming to end in forever, until finally, she gasps for air.
“Sorry, sorry, babe, are you—”
“Jeez, Yena,” you groan and scrunch your nose, unable to look at the pile of half-digested food without feeling your stomach tighten painfully. “Just sit down over there, and try not to—you know?”
Unsure if she understood any of your words, you guide her to a nearby bench in front of the highest point of the wall. Except for the occasional breeze rustling the trees and Yena’s heavy breaths, it’s eerily quiet. You scan the area attentively, no possible attacker will go unnoticed, not even the figure on the far end of the wall. Why would someone sit there and stare skywards? There are barely any stars tonight.
The person has spotted you and jumps off the wall. You’d prepare to fight for your honor and Yena’s safety, but then realize that the person is pretty small and frail. You pull out your phone and point the flashlight at the approaching figure. Dressed in a thin black jacket, it’s none other than Minju. Again.
“Did not expect you here,” you snark at her and point your flashlight closer to her face. “Why the fuck are you here?”
“Hey! Is-isn’t that Min-Min-ju?” Yena bursts out in laughter and rises from her bench. “Best friends, best friendos!”
She steps towards her classmate in deep drunken delirium and tries to hug her. Instead she loses her footing way earlier and is about to crash face first onto the ground. You’re unable to react on time, but Minju is. She catches Yena’s fall, knees painfully digging into the gravel as both her arms catch your girlfriends’ fall. Slowly, the two of them descend onto the ground.
You stand there frozen, as Minju reaches into the pocket of her dirty jeans and pulls out a surprisingly fresh tissue. She carefully wipes Yena's dirty mouth, not shying away from the abhorrent smell and delusional smile. Minju holds her still like a baby, and Yena giggles stupidly.
“Get off of her!” you shout at the top of your lungs and push Minju off at her shoulders. She jumps and lets go of Yena, who almost meets the ground below if it weren’t for your arms on her back. In your rage you pick your girlfriend up so she stands and sways again. Her good mood fades as she struggles to stand upright, even with your arm around her.
“What is your game, huh? Stop trying to get her, she’s mine,” you snarl down at Minju, who sits on the ground, her legs shivering in this mild spring night. She should have worn more than a skirt if this is still too cold for her, but for some reason, she still has this unusual determination in her eyes.
“Can I have this?” Minju asks, oblivious to your rant, pointing at the vodka bottle still firmly in Yena’s grip. Your girlfriend doesn’t react to the question and instead rests her head on your chest. She sniffles and weeps, tears soaking into the fabric of your polo shirt. Enraged, you kick a bunch of gravel onto Minju—she should get fucking buried beneath it.
“Fuck off, really. Are you really that desperate? Pathetic.”
“I-I’m not, I just want to drink.
“Would you let her drink it? Yena is already looking bad.”
Furiously reach for the bottle. This fucking bitch. Throw it as hard as you can against the wall. It bursts into a million shards, the vodka running down the gray surface. Someone opens a window.
“Hey! You fucking rouges! Stop this shit or I’ll call the police!”
You’d love to curse back at them, but Yena pulls at the hem of your shirt. You look at her teary eyes and sigh. This has been a big enough mess, no need to push the limits. Stare down at Minju, who still looks at the spot the bottle hit, her eyes big yet blurry. She looks absolutely miserable.
“Back off,” you say to her. “Don’t come close to her again or you’ll regret it.”
#
Monday comes and goes, the same goes for Tuesday. You might sit in class, attend each of the lessons, but you’re not listening to a word the teachers say. Nothing special, if you’re being honest. You’d usually guide your hand on Yena’s thigh and watch her smirk knowingly as she tries to pay attention. This would go on until she pinches you. She tries to keep up with school a lot more than you do, it shows in her grades.
Today however, she is not in the mood at all. She swats you away from the start, her gaze focused, yet angry, as she tries to copy the teachers’ scrabble from the blackboard. You roll your eyes, this is not uncommon either, especially during that time of the month.
You roll tiny pellets of paper, your ammo for today. Simple, childish entertainment, sure, but you can’t wait to see the reaction of today’s target. Minju had it coming for a while now. Usually you’d send the paper flying over her head at one of the stupid classmates behind her; now she is in full focus.
At least she would be if it weren’t for her absence. You only notice it when you turn around to ready your first throw. She is not there. You drop the pellets to the ground, the only form of disarmament that actually feels like it. How can she not be there? The teacher didn’t even notice, no one noticed—and no one cares, except you.
But why do you care? Students are absent all the time and a loser like Minju has all the reasons not to go. For some reason, it still grinds your gears, brings them to a screeching halt and makes you form a fist. Feel your own fingernails dig into the palm of your hands; this is getting a bit out of control.
Suddenly, Yena’s hand is on your thigh, a surprising twist to your usual shenanigans, however, she is a lot less gentle. You spin around, meet her gaze for a second before the angry hum of your teacher finally gets your attention. She must have been standing there for quite a while, trying so hard to do her job by teaching you something, something, something.
“Oh, so you are still among us,” she notes, looking up and down at you above the rim of her large, blue glasses. “I bet you now know all the details of the French Revolution.”
“Of course,” you respond, voice and posture as nonchalant as ever.
“Do you mind explaining the root causes that led to the Battle of Verdun?”
“Actually, I do mind.” Let your smirk fade for something more sympathetic. “Excuse me, Miss Kang, I just have a terrible headache right now. I think I should leave for today.”
#
“You should pay more attention in class. You can’t always skip the lessons you don’t like.”
You put your phone on speaker and throw it on the desk. On the other side is Yena, thoroughly annoyed from the moment you started this call. If you’re honest, her annoyance is getting on your nerves as well.
“But I don’t care,” you groan into your room, loud enough for your girlfriend to hear. “It’s really hard to pay attention when it’s just boring shit, day in, day out.”
“I know it’s boring to you, but you know how grades work and that they don’t give a fuck about you not giving a fuck. At least try?” Yena tries to bargain, but you shatter her away.
“Why the fuck are we still talking about school? I should be by your side right now. Should I come over?”
You smirk in lust, one hand opening a drawer with countless condoms in it. Let a pack of it glide through your fingers before you hear a loud sigh coming from Yena.
“Not today, no. I-it’s better we not.”
“Huh? Why is that?”
“Look, it’s…”
A long pause. You almost slam the drawer shut, instead catching yourself at the last moment and only closing it carefully in deep regret. There is a deeply rooted hate in you for evasive behavior like this; it’s terrible in movies or TV shows, but when it is happening in real life, it makes you snap quickly.
“Yena—”
“I-it’s because… you wouldn’t… look, we can’t do it, okay?”
“Oh. It is that time of the month, huh?
“Ew.”
Another pause, this time a lot more tense.
“What did you just say?” Yena growls furiously. “Oh my God, you’re such an asshole!”
“Yena, I—” Your words face an impenetrable wall, not even reaching your girlfriend’s ear.
“No! Shut up! You insensitive idiot, I don’t want to deal with you too right now. Fuck. Off!”
Yena hangs up. You smash the pack of condoms to the ground, a nerve struck by her entitlement. Oh well, that’s how they are during this time. She’ll calm down by Thursday, maybe Friday. You get to sleep, not willing to even see the school building tomorrow.
#
The tide doesn’t turn on Thursday, but for some goddamn reason, you still went up to that school. For the first time since you two became a couple, she completely ignored you. You’ve been waiting at the gate for an extra twenty minutes, which meant less sleep for you, which means more annoyance, which leads to—
“Watch your fucking step, bro!” you growl at a random student, who was unlucky enough to be in your walking lane. This has quickly turned to a day where everyone is better off either treating you like the irritable King Saul or disappearing all together. A day like a threat; it all hangs by a thread that could tear at any moment.
Your patience is thin and so is Minju’s arm when she tries to pick something up. Too bad for her, she is right there when you try to pass her. With the grace of an elephant you pass by her, painfully squeeze her arm against the table and hear a whimper of pain.
“Watch it, Minju,” you bark at her and aggressively take your seat, eyes locked on her. Everything about her looks has gotten worse, her posture looks like it’s about to break, she could fold in half at any minute. Any hobo would have more dignity. “I’m not in the mood for your bullshit.”
“I—it hurts.”
You can hear from the tone of her voice, stiff and pained, that her arm really hurts. Minju wraps her fingers around it gently and looks at you, but all you see are her shimmering eyes with nothing left inside, dull and dead—and so absolutely infuriating.
“Like I said: not in the mood.”
Minju hisses. Blood spills from her elbow. The class has taken notice of the situation and looks on in awe as you stand up and in front of Minju. Someone is brave enough to sneak out, probably to get a teacher to check on Minju and the open wound, from which beads of blood slowly drip to the floor.
“What have you done?” Yena suddenly whispers from behind you, makes herself beside Minju and looks at that twig-like arm. You can’t channel your focus on her for long, Minju’s sniffles drive you to the edge of insanity.
“She was in the way, okay?” you respond, not bothering to give Yena another second of your time. For this lone, fleeting moment of your life, you can get it all out on this loser—that no one would miss, that no one sees—in all honesty, you might do her a favor with this. Now, she has everyone’s attention. They can also see how dreadful she looks and smells and dresses.
Minju is undeserving of life in your eyes—and your eyes are on her cheek.
“Maybe you should apologize?!”
A smack heard around the world. You could’ve done it so many ways: grab your wrist and use both fists to hit her or maybe angle your elbow to hit her eye socket. Instead, you went straight for her cheek with your left, swung like a boxer and Minju flew off the chair. No way she could’ve dodged this.
Knocked down after one punch, but there is absolutely nothing satisfying about it. It’s all just a mess. The puddle of Minju on the floor, swollen face, bloody mouth, lifeless limbs. The crowd of classmates that surround her, take photos, groan in shock, turn around to not vomit. The hands of Yena all over your face, push you back towards your seat, into the arms of a teacher, then an officer.
Her face tells you everything. You’ll never see her again, not as your girlfriend, not as your trophy. Those times have ended with this punch heard around the world. In the end, it wasn’t worth it. The ambulance arrives and you hear the principal yelling, not the words, just that he is yelling. To your surprise, Minju never looked better than now—with that maniacal smile on her face as they carry her towards the ambulance.
#
To your surprise, you’re not in a jail cell on Friday, but in the principal's office again. The sound of that smack you gave Minju, it finally left your ears. You’re not deaf anymore and ready to take a chance at redemption. Of course your fist could not have slipped, not with all the witnesses and the power behind it, but maybe a couple hours of anger management will save you from a trial or whatever punishment may await you.
The principal looks angry, you expected as much, but the anger is mixed with shock, speechlessness and disbelief. He must have seen a ghost last night, or God himself. You’ve never seen this serious man look so at a loss for words.
The door opens, a young woman and a police officer walk in. She is crying, he is stern. They both wait for the principal to say something, but he just points at you, unable to come up with words that could describe you. At this point, you’ve had it with their hesitation, their overreaction.
“What am I doing here?” you ask, calmly, quietly, as not to show your slight annoyance.
“T-tell him, Miss Kwon, please.” The principal’s voice is about to crack, so he turns around, hands in his hair, while Miss Kwon sits down next to you. You slowly remember why she is here. She is the confidant teacher, the kind soul, the one who cares for everyone. Even the likes of Minju.
“Min-Minju came to the hospital yesterday,” she begins, her sniffles stopped temporarily when the officer hands her a handkerchief. “She, she looked good. Yes, she did, sur-sur-surprisingly.”
For the first time, you look at Miss Kwon, but she averts you. Her posture is frozen. She continues to talk as if you aren’t there.
“I remember, she smiled, said something about you. We shouldn’t be angry, you showed it to her. I asked her, but she just smiled. The doctors said she was free to leave tonight, to-to-tonight—”
Miss Kwon bursts out in tears again, her ruined face hidden behind two fragile hands that try to keep up her composure. Behind her is still the officer, the only one to look at you in the entire room, and his dark orbs are full of disgust, like he hates your guts to the core.
“We found her.” Miss Kwon tries everything in her power to get out another sentence, you feel your breath halt for a bit. “She was, she was hanging from the ce-ceiling—”
Miss Kwon wails, but all you hear is a clock ticking in the background.
“What?”
“She killed herself!” the principal screams and slams his fists into the desk.
“She is dead, she is dead!
He slams down again and again, the floor starts to shake.
“Do you understand me!? Do you regret it!?
He hits it and you realize—
“Do you regret it!?
—he’d love to hit you like this, over and over and over again.
“Do you regret it!?”
Do you regret the single tear rolling down your cold face?
An interest in photography. A camera in your hand since you’ve been four years old. A nice motive. Click.
Other hobbies don’t come to mind. Friends are none of your concern. Just a camera and the desire to one day make money with it. The grades have to match that desire though. Click. Back to study.
You have pictures of all of your classmates. Most of them taken in secret. All of them show how they grew the last couple of years. Yena and Chawon have matured, fit and attractive. The main bully has gotten bigger, meaner. He’d kill you if he ever found your pictures of Yena. They might not be inappropriate or unflattering, but he is scarily obsessive.
One motive catches your eye. While most of your classmates have bloomed to varying degrees, one gorgeous girl has withered. Your pictures of Minju portray her as increasingly less well-dressed, less combed, less happy. You can barely catch a glimpse of her full, uncovered face. It bothers you how she hides it.
No, it’s intriguing. You can’t keep your eyes off of her. Starting someday in the middle of the school year, you can’t stop looking over to her, sitting in the midst of the classroom while being outside everything and everyone.
Snapshots here and there with your phone and a small digital camera during class. They form a collection of this disheveled girl. You’d much rather have something truly worth framing, taking with your best camera model. This will have to do for the time being, you tell yourself.
Suddenly, one day, you swear that she seems to light up more and more. It is not noticeable for anyone else, no classmates, no teachers — only you know that Kim Minju shines like a star today. Dozens of pictures fill the folder of your phone. Your heart starts to race a little bit. Maybe you could approach her, get more of this glow, hell, even a full portrait—
Don’t be ridiculous! A picture like this is impossible to ask for. You never asked anyone for such a favor, let alone someone whose connection to you only exists in your mind, in your fantasy.
Minju is not in class. A day ago she was glowing; now she is hiding. Call her a solar eclipse and you a solar flare the way you burst. The thrill is burning in your veins, blood rushing to your head as you head out, towards Rainbow Street, your most expensive camera hanging around your neck. You stop next to one of the many older, Japanese style houses. There is a police car. You quickly hide behind a tree across the small street, much more akin to a trafficless avenue.
Two officers walk out, with them a few more people, dressed in black with sorrowful and disturbed faces. Minju is not amongst them, even though this is certainly her address. They murmur and whisper and cry about something, someone — they will miss him, why did he do it, oh this poor girl. The officers drive off, the crowd disassembles.
Right before you decide to leave, the sliding door to the small building opens. A fence and a wall obstruct your view, so you decide to climb up a few branches, just a few feet off the ground to maybe catch a glimpse off—
Minju lays in the doorframe, the sliding door not fully opened. Her head rests against the side, tears endlessly streaming down her face. Small sobs, contortions of her beautiful features, her hair everywhere yet at the same time, you’ve never seen so much of her face.
Her features are flawless. This moment feels like a personal show for you. Instinctively, you reach for the camera and take a photo. Then climb higher, take another photo, then again. Minju does not notice you, but her crying intensifies once more. Her hands try to grab something. She wants to hold on so bad. Click. She gasps, cries out. Click. Words stuck in her throat, lips dry and torn. Click.
A hundred more clicks as you try not to overdose on this perfect moment. You have never felt such a rush. Minju is all yours, these pictures are your proof. Nobody gets to see her like this. Your heart races at the thought that this might be the only moment, your only chance to see this spectacle. A spectacle for you and to you only.
With a hint of disgust about yourself you walk home an hour later. Jerk off to her once because what is one more sin for today? The next day, she isn’t at school, but you don’t visit her either. The day after that she is back, but you can barely stand looking at her. In the one picture you take Minju looks her absolute worst, worse than her endless sobbing and crying and screeching and hair pulling.
You decide to go back to Rainbow Street the very next day, early in the morning. One hour from the start of school and you stand before the house again. You carefully glance at the sliding door. There is a gap, it’s open.
Your heart skips a beat. The thrill of just having a peak is enough to push you forward. Nobody is out here this early, nothing will disrupt your trespassing. Increasingly rapid breaths leave your nostrils as you put an eye to the gap. It‘s completely dark inside, just a faint white reflection hovering in the hallway catches your attention.
Your heart now races. Fingers push open fully the door that was ajar. The dim morning twilight floods the dark house and the faint white turns to a clearer picture. A simple gown, worn out, hangs from the ceiling.
A scream gets stuck in your throat as your knees give out and you collapse on the floor. Minju‘s eyes are wide open, dead and with yet to dry tears in them. Bruises on her neck, bruises on her hands, lips in a hideous purple. The noose barely holds her at the jaw, blood drips from the corners of her mouth.
You have never seen nor imagined something as utterly horrifying. It‘s like every negative emotion is flooding you for your sins. Sins you have committed, sins you still commit. You find Minju more beautiful than ever.
Beneath her dangling feet you find a letter in crude hand-writing.
To my dearest daughter
I know you won‘t understand this but this is necessary. Ever since your mother passed, I haven‘t had a clear thought. My head is a mess, my mind isn‘t mine. But I have to take responsibility. I have to stop this voice, this feeling for you. You look so much like her, it‘s too painful for me, I can‘t look at you. Please forgive me, I‘m going to her now. For your sake too.
„So you just wanna game? Play something else then, at home.“
„Hey, Minju, wait! We can do something else if you want. I just need some — excuse to stay with you, something to pass today.“
„But I don‘t want to see anyone today.“
„Not even me?“
„Definitely not you.“
„Okay, that‘s fine. But promise me that you‘ll call me if you need anything — and text me before bed.“
„What are you? My lover?“
„Just a worried friend.“
„I‘m doing fine.“
„You don‘t look like you‘re fine. If you want to be alone, I‘ll go now. But I‘m only a call away.“
„Thanks. Bye.“
#
„Minju! Minju! Open the door, please, open it now!
„Minju! Why weren‘t you in school yesterday? Are you okay? Open the door!
„I swear I‘ll kick it down right now!“
„He is dead! He is dead, fucking dead and it‘s my fault!“
„I‘m coming in!“
„No! Go away! Don‘t look at me, I‘m a demon, a devil! I killed him!“
„Calm down, please. Put, put that away.“
„No!“
„Put the rope away, Minju. Please.“
„…“
„Okay, now breathe. Slow, calm, ste—“
„I don‘t want to breathe — I want to suffocate like he did.“
„Minju, please.“
„I killed my father. I‘m a murderer, I should die.“
„Minju, please. You need to breathe. No more sobbing, no more screams. Listen to my heartbeat.“
„I-I can‘t, I don‘t deserve to!“
„Then I will hold you closer, until you‘ve given up this awful plan, until your tears are dried, until you can tell me why—“
„…“
„Minju,
„I don‘t want to lose you.
„You‘re my best friend.“
„Please, let me, let me go. I‘m a demon, a monster.“
„Even if you were, I‘d stick with you. I‘m not going to let you die tonight.“
„…“
„What is in your hands?“
„My reason.“
„Your final letter?“
„My dads final letter.“
„Whatever is written in this — it does not mean that it‘s your fault and that you need to die too. Minju, isn‘t life beautiful?“
„It‘s fucking not. I can‘t do this anymore.“
„You‘re right to feel this way. But it‘s the only life you got and even if this is just me being selfish, I want you to continue trying, continue living.“
Thank you to everyone who still has faith in this series <3 First fic of May!
It’s funny how life works. You never thought it would come to this point, but you know what they say: expect the unexpected. That’s the only way you can get through your twenties without going insane.
But even so, you still have little recollection of how you ended up sitting in a café, waiting to meet Honda Hitomi.
That’s right: the Honda Hitomi. You can’t believe it either. Years ago, you were mourning IZ*ONE’s disbandment, and now you’ve somehow landed the opportunity to meet the veteran idol of your dreams. Your hand keeps trembling on the table and she isn’t even here yet. What more if she finally shows up? God, you hope you don’t faint.
I’m almost there~ I’m really sorry for the wait!
🍑 xx
You want to text her back and say there’s no need for apologies. You’ll wait for her your whole life if need be, just like how you waited for her to debut again, waited for her merch in long lines—
“Hey there!”
You look up from your phone and your heart nearly stops.
Alright, you can remember how you got here now, actually.
You weren’t even that into K-pop—well, until some of the bigger hits from 2NE1 came out. That got you a little interested. You had this bias against K-pop at first because it seemed incredibly mundane. But then you found out it was just… music, only sang in Korean. Fast forward to 2018, you saw the most beautiful girl on your screen who was competing to be in a produce group. Your life started there.
And now, she’s standing right before you. Her smile is dazzling. It blinds you as you scramble to your feet, frantically bowing.
“Hi, I’m a huge fan!” you say. You’re aware that you’re making yourself look idiotic in front of your ultimate bias but you have no idea how to make it stop. Hitomi just makes your brain short-circuit. “Thank you for coming!”
Hitomi giggles. “I know you are. Otherwise you wouldn’t have joined our contest, right?”
You blush. Strike one, you guess. However, there’s only playful jest written on Hitomi’s round face. That’s just one of the many things you love about her: she’s genuine. The cutie pie public image doesn’t change the fact she’ll make whatever she feels known. You have evidence of it in your gallery: a video of her cursing in Japanese, photos of her smiling brightly, and of course, that wrenching video of her crying after their first win.
It’s parasocial to say, but you’ve been around for each other’s firsts. You were thrust into the real world as an adult the same time she was. She was your first bias who kept you afloat and looking forward to something in college, when all you could think about was if you were going to graduate or not. She introduced you to a whole world of music you didn’t know could be so good.
Funny. You had a lot of biases after IZ*ONE, but none could measure up to Hitomi.
“Right, sorry. It’s so nice to finally meet you in person.’’
“Oh, no need to apologize! I’m actually really thankful you joined.” She shakes your hand. Does she know that one touch almost made you faint? “It’s been a little scary debuting again in Korea. It’s nice to know I have fans who support me either way.”
She’s in this little crochet halter, the dark hues the opposite of that blonde hair. As perfect as she is, you realize that she’s just as human as you are. There’s a bit of sweat on her forehead, courtesy of the April heat. A little bit of her lipstick is smudged slightly around the corner of her mouth. She isn’t just a figment of the pixels on your phone screen.
The only difference is she’s a hundred times more beautiful.
It’s actually crazy—she’s just there, gesturing with her small hands, talking and smiling, and through it all she remains picture-perfect gorgeous. Paparazzi shots have nothing on her. They can look everywhere for an unflattering angle and be greeted with none.
“Well, I’ll always be here,” you say bashfully. “Would you like a drink?”
Hitomi’s eyes sparkle once more as they fixate on the menu. “Sure!” There’s a lot of delicacies worth trying here.
“Unless, uh, of course—” You shrug. “You’d rather go somewhere else. I heard there’s a mall nearby with a new parlor.”
You don’t really know what to do here. You didn’t expect to win the contest her label held for their comeback: a few album purchases in exchange for a whole day with your bias. Was this going to be televised? Were there limits? You should’ve read the fine print.
Hitomi offers you a gentle smile. So many times you found refuge in it. You didn’t know it at the time when you were voting for her on Produce 48, but you were in it for the long ride.
“You really need to stop worrying so much. We can do whatever you like. As far as I’m concerned, I’m all yours.”
-
Now what the hell does that mean?
You’re not completely parasocial, for god’s sake. You’ve been a K-pop fan long enough to know these little sweet lines are scripted. Everything is manufactured and sold to consumers who’d devour anything if it had a pretty girl printed on it: a wink to the camera, outfits designed to hug every appealing curve, words of support in an online fancall. It would be stupid to fall for any of that.
But when Hitomi’s in that tiny little halter, eyes never leaving you and her lithe legs crossed, whatever else should you think about?
Hitomi gives her sugar-coated spoon a long, languid lick. Your gaze lingers a little too much at the sight. Her pretty lips, glossy and soft, succeed in making you jealous of the utensil. Not to mention that tongue…
Shake your head, as if doing it would clear all the dirty thoughts in it. You swore to yourself a long time ago you would not be one of those fans. They were everywhere, even on a small-scale website like Tumblr. It shocked you to see a blog solely dedicated to writing mature fanfiction about her and her former group members, clear from the username already. Whatever that iznsfw person does is disrespectful and dehumanizing.
Besides, Honda Hitomi is like, off-limits. She’s tiny and lovable and has the softest cheeks in mankind. This is the last girl you should think of as sexy.
“Is it as good as you expected?” you ask.
Hitomi nods cutely, as if nothing happened. As if she didn’t ignite a heat inside you that won’t go out.. She looks gorgeous underneath all that sunlight. It seems to bounce off her milky skin and make her one of its own rays.
“I’m so glad you picked the strawberry flavor,” she says, twirling her spoon through the pink ice cream. “Thank you, by the way. Chocolate’s too regular for me, you know? You can get that anywhere.”
“No problem at all. You did say strawberries were your favorite food, right?”
Hitomi looks genuinely touched. The sparkle in her eyes can’t be the cafe lamp’s illusion. She’s probably wondering how the hell you remember that. Even the people around her don’t remember how to spell her name. But it’s simple: you remember because it’s her.
“Aw, our fans are always so thoughtful,” she gushes. “I didn’t think anyone would know that… I said that in a talk show a million years ago.”
You want to tell her the exact date and MC of the show, but you keep that to yourself. The last thing you want to happen is for your ultimate bias to think you’re just another creepy fan. You swear hand to god that you aren’t; you’re just completely, hopelessly devoted to Hitomi.
Okay, so that doesn’t help your case, but still. You take another bite of your brunch pancakes before speaking again.
“AKB48 days, I think?” you say, playing it off casually.
Hitomi juts her lips out, deep in thought. She shakes her head. “No, it’s actually–” Her eyes grow larger than life, disbelief clear in them. “You’re right! How did you know that?”
“I meant it when I said I’m your biggest fan.”
Oh, if only she knew that you led the voting fan union when SayMyName was nominated in music shows. Then there’s your drawer full of her photo cards, the posters of her in your room… she pretty much consumed you. She brought so much light to your life that you didn’t know could deviate from gloom.
There’s a saying that goes something like “never meet your heroes.” It’s better to keep them on a pedestal than get your heart broken knowing they’re nothing like you thought. But you’re glad you broke that rule for Hitomi. She’s as radiant as she is on your television. And above all, she’s actually quite easy to talk to. It’s just like talking to your best friend. You ask her about how it felt stepping back into the industry, and she jokes that it’s all an old game to her.
“I was nervous, of course, but the excitement cancels it out,” she explains. “It’s just work at the end of the day. You get used to doing it.”
The strawberry ice cream melted already into a puddle of pink. Your pancakes are left abandoned on your plate. The two of you don’t mind though. You like listening to Hitomi. And Hitomi loves talking about being an idol. Dancing and singing is something she was born to do.
“It has to feel weird though,” you remark, not quite thinking before you say it out loud.
Hitomi quirks her lip. “What do you mean?”
“You were in a group with eleven members with a leader to rely on. And now you’re a leader yourself. Doesn’t it get hard sometimes?”
She’s silent for a moment, probably reminiscing like you are. You were there for the golden era of her previous group. For the entirety of it, actually. You can see those little moments flash through her eyes—securing a spot in the lineup, performing during the pandemic, ending it all in a tearful yet high note with her purple hair falling around her hoodie.
You wonder if she ever felt sad knowing they never got to tour as a group. At their final concert, she spoke to an empty audience, unable to see who was there for her.
“It does,” she murmurs. “In a line of work like this, you’re gonna get tired. You’ll always think if you’re doing the right thing or if you said the wrong thing. And it gets really lonely sometimes.”
Her voice is as fragile as glass. You begin to fear that you’re making her cry. Hell, even you think you’re going to tear up just recalling all of those memories. You’d hate to ruin a bright day like this.
Hitomi, to your surprise, only offers you a satisfied smile. “But god, do I love doing what I do. It makes it all worth it.”
She reaches her hand out to clasp yours. Her touch is soft as a cloud.
“Thank you,” she says softly. “For always being on my side. I’ll never take it for granted.”
“I-I should be thanking you. I’m serious. You make me so happy just by…” You gesture vaguely, an embarrassed little smile on your face. “You know, dancing and singing onstage. You’ve helped me through a lot of sleepless nights.”
She’ll forever be in your heart and head, one way or another. She stayed there during IZ*ONE when you still had a hard time picking her apart from the other eleven girls. She stayed there during the hiatus, when you struggled finding subtitles for her Japanese shows. And she might as well be a second heartbeat but a first thought now that she’s back in the industry you learned to love because of her.
And she tilts her head, blinking innocently. “What kind of sleepless nights?”
You’re beginning to think something’s very wrong with you.
Come on, she doesn’t mean any harm or innuendo. She’s just concerned about you, like she is with all of her fans. It’s natural for her to be after having such a vulnerable conversation with you.
It's certainly inconvenient, though, that the innuendo comes after you’ve been battling thoughts about folding her in half on this table and filling those soft cheeks with something else than ice cream. Just the tiniest physical contact between you and the idol you worship makes you heat up. The way she’s looking at you right now should be a really sweet moment you’d tuck away in your heart and thank the heavens for experiencing. However, it only makes you unable to hold eye contact with her, and drifting your gaze from her face to that tight little body doesn’t help.
“Hitomi…”
She doesn’t have to know what you look at in the night. They’re all photos of her, of course, looking adorable in fansigns and small concerts. But there’s always that one photo sandwiched between wholesome content—something where she’s showing off skin a little more than usual, her gaze piercing through the lens. As if she knew what you were doing.
She’s giving you that exact same look now.
And god, it’s even more dangerous in person. Her head tilts to the side, her eyelashes fanning low. It would look adorable to anyone else. That’s how it should look—her boba eyes are like that of an anime character and she’s so bubbly it’s infectious.
“It’s alright, oppa,” she says with a playful tinge in her voice. “You don’t have to hide it from me. It just makes me more curious.”
This cannot be fucking happening. Is this a prank? The airconditioned café suddenly feels too warm. You need to get rid of your jacket. You need to get rid of her clothes. You need to taste the ice cream sitting on her bottom lip to quench the thirst in you.
“It really doesn’t matter,” you stutter, searching for a lifeline. Your voice draws thinner with anxiety. “I think you’d be more interested in knowing how many albums I bought just to meet you. Everyone says it’s crazy.”
Hitomi pouts. “But I already know that. My manager said you got twenty copies of all versions.”
“Twenty-six of each, actually. To celebrate your birthday in advance.”
“Then shouldn’t you tell me what you think about in those sleepless nights?” Hitomi leans forward, knowing exactly what that pout does to you. “I always want to give back to my fans, especially when they’re as… big as you are.”
The innocent giggle that follows is just too much. Her cute voice should not entice you like this. This day has taken twists bigger than meeting Hitomi herself. You have no idea what to do.
Are you really going to be cornered by a Japanese girl who’d fit in your pocket? You hate to say that the answer is yes, especially when the girl you’re horribly down bad for is Honda Hitomi.
You shift in your seat. “You’re trying to get me in trouble.”
She laughs, biting her lip a little. Another obscene fantasy crosses your mind just this second. One of her doing that same expression as she takes that top off, eyes never leaving yours. “Maybe I am, maybe I’m not. But let’s not pretend you don’t want me.”
This would be so much easier if she was wrong—a weight off your shoulders, a lack of a guilty conscience. Nobody should be thinking of a girl like Hitomi like that. It’s exactly why she garners the kind of audience she has. She’s too precious. Miniscule, pretty, a permanent giddy smile glued to her face. It felt wrong to even consider her as someone sexy.
“I wasn’t lying when I said I’m yours for the day,” she says. “So please, do whatever you want to me.”
Then Hitomi spreads her creamy thighs under the table and you realize you actually, truly do not give a fuck about what’s right or wrong.
-
This has got to be illegal. You didn’t read the terms and conditions, haven’t the slightest idea of what goes and what doesn’t, but you’re pretty fucking sure you should not be taking Hitomi to a hotel.
This whole situation has just been a battle of your morals. Because here’s the thing:
You believe that no label, as big as SM or as small as Hitomi’s, should risk their idol hooking up with a fan. And if this is just elevated fanservice, they should be sued for fortunes.
Then again, why would you pass up the opportunity? Hitomi initiated this herself after all.
Still, there should be boundaries. Artists hooking up with their fans is a tale old as time, but that doesn’t make it less wrong. You only know Hitomi from a camera-captured perspective. She’s a celebrity with a reputation at risk. That alone is a good reason for the two of you to call this off.
But Hitomi’s plump ass looks too good in that skirt, and she’s kissing the hesitation out of you before you could speak.
“God, you’re already so hard,” Hitomi moans against your lips. Her hand cups your bulge through your jeans and you jolt. “Mm. Is this what gets you off, oppa? Getting to fuck me after waiting for so, so long?”
You want to tell her that she shouldn’t say things like that. But the evidence is all there, in the heavy breaths you have to take before kissing each other again, in the way you’re holding her right now. Her waist fits oh-so-perfectly in your hands that you’re pushed to think this was meant to happen.
You lift her up. This still feels like a dream; your head isn’t all there so this could just be some lucid dream. Hitomi’s slim legs wrapped around your hips break the illusion. They feel too soft, too warm to be a dream. Her core presses hotly against your bulge while your fingers explore every unmapped inch of her body.
“Fuck, Tomi…” You pin her to the door and waste no time. You start devouring her neck, the pressure firm on her skin and your teeth sinking into it. Hitomi’s whiny gasps spur you on. You could record them and work hard to make it another chart-topping song.
“That’s the plan,” giggles Hitomi, her eyes rolling back. “Come on, oppa. Do what you want to me. Hitomi’s your little fuckdoll for the night.”
The obscenity coming from the mouth of such a cute girl is appalling. It’s the kind that should make you scold her instead of grinding down on her core. Don’t ever say that again, you would tell her, and Hitomi, with her eyes welling up with tears, would meekly say she’s sorry.
That’s how you’d go about this situation if you were a good man.
Here’s the thing, though: she’s corrupting you as much as you’re corrupting her. You’re not a good man. And you think you like it that way, with how good Hitomi’s tight little body feels underneath you.
You take her slim wrists and pin them above her head. All of her is on display now: those perfect shoulders, the smooth flesh of her arms and underarms, the neck you’ve peppered with purple love bites. It’s so easy to manipulate her into submission. She’s so small that it takes zero effort to get her where you want.
You’re drunk with power. “You promise to do what daddy tells you?”
“Yes.”
Her vanilla scent is addicting. She looks and smells delectable, and you can’t wait to ruin her. Each part of your body is screaming at you to pounce on her, but you haven’t quite heard what you wanted yet.
“Yes what?”
“Yes, daddy,” whines Hitomi. Her eyes are glassy. You can quite literally feel her body quake with anticipation. It does things to your ego, knowing she wants this as much as you do.
You’re not thinking straight. All you can process is the carnal, almost dangerous desire you have to ruin her. It’s not even desire anymore. You’ll find that you’ll die if you don’t get to fuck Hitomi. It’s as big a need as food and shelter, right up there on the Maslow hierarchy.
You need to push her legs apart as far as they could go while you fuck her little pussy.
You need to hear her beg for it even when you’ll give her a good dicking down anyway.
You need to see that innocent little face look corrupted and sinful when it’s painted with your cum.
That gives you an idea.
“Get on your knees.”
How many times have you dreamed of doing this? It’s a secret you’ll never admit to anyone, how you’d let your mind wander when you watch fancams of her and notice the eye contact she maintains with the lens. The smile would disappear from her face and be replaced with a sultry look whenever she did a particularly bold choreography, letting the skirt fold up her thighs and the neckline of her blouse hang low.
You can trace these moments all the way back to the One the Story concert. The lighting was similar in a way to this hotel room, the reds and hues dancing off Hitomi’s slim figure. Even that tiny skirt parallels the one she wore with Minju and Yuri. It hikes up her knees as she slowly descends to the floor.
It feels like deja vu now. Her years of experience as an idol makes everything seem like effortless choreography. The fabric of her skirt rolls even further up her thighs, showing off her enviable legs. She bites her lip while she unzips your pants. Without having met you before, she has the shape of your body known by heart. Her eyes never leave yours as she frees your aching cock.
Hitomi lives for the roughness. “Want it so bad, daddy.” She starts to jerk you off, attempting to cover all of your girth with her tiny hand. The sensation is sharp and hot. “Want daddy to feed me his big cock and stick it down my throat. Because I’m his pretty little girl. All yours.”
“All mine.”
She automatically gets what she's supposed to do. She’s made for it, even. Her handjob is professionally done to get each drop of hot cum out of you. Her nimble fingers caress each sensitive spot before she opens her mouth.
The sight of Hitomi sticking her little tongue out to taste you makes you groan. She holds you by the base and coats each inch with her drool. Her lips seal around your shaft, dragging the pleasure out, while she stimulates you with eager swipes of her tongue.
“Love this cock, daddy,” Hitomi moans. She’s basically making out with your dick. Her hot, messy kisses on your tip send electricity bolting throughout your body. “So so big, can’t live without it. How are you gonna fit this inside me later?”
She knows what she's doing. She knows exactly how to rile you up.
You pray for her sake that she’s as good of a fuckdoll as she says, for you take a hold of her Rapunzel locks to push her pretty face further between your legs. Your cock slips past her glossy lips and dents the side of her fluffy cheeks.
It’s so incredibly wrong. She’s too adorable to be fucked like this. She’s the sort of girl you kiss on the forehead and do more wholesome things together, preferably activities that do not involve fucking her innocent face.
You can’t stop now though. Satisfied with the depth, you start off strong with several, rough thrusts into her throat. You hear—feel her fragile gasp around your shaft. It takes you even higher.
“Come on, take it, Hitomi.” Your thrusts get messier. Her cheeks grow pinker with a deep, satiated blush that no stylist can get from a palette. She just loves to be taken like this, like she was made to service your every need.
The innocence never quite leaves her eyes despite the facefucking. It’s permanently stitched into her gaze. What ought to make you feel guilty tempts you further. You want to see all the sweetness leave her. You want her to take it.
Hitomi’s hands, having previously shifted nervously on her lap, now return to your body. Her forehead wrinkles slightly at the difficulty of taking you. The impact of your rapid thrusts makes her unable to breathe. Her breaths quickly stagger into nothingness.
Rather than run from it, she chases the feeling. She wants more of the lightheadedness, the thrill of being owned and used like the toy she promised she was.
Hence, she works to double the pleasure. Her hands hold your hips for leverage. The little oxygen she can take from her nostrils is blocked when you go in particularly deep. She makes an audible moan (or perhaps a gag? You’re too turned on to differentiate the two), opening her mouth wider and letting you drag your tip across the textured flat of her tongue.
You’re nearly there. You gather Hitomi’s hair into a fisted ponytail, mindlessly fucking her mouth. Your cock never leaves the wet seal of her pretty mouth. Your groans mix with hers. Her tongue keeps licking, her hands keep fondling with your balls, her eyes keep looking up at you with all that ruined sanctity and naivety—
You pull out. Hitomi has the good sense to close her eyes as you cum all over her. The orgasms buzzes and flickers in your veins, a humming within them that grows louder as you realize she’s jerking you off. Her gasps sync loudly with yours.
“Fuck, such a good girl,” you moan. Her grip milks you to sensitivity, rendering your knees buckling and shaking. Your semen seems to come out in endless spurts.
By the time the adrenaline dies down, you’ve completely painted your ultimate bias’ face with your cum. There’s some in her hair, on the seam of her lip. It drips heavily down her chest as if it were her own sweat.
Hitomi dips her middle finger into the cum that pooled in her collarbone. She tastes it with a coy little giggle. “God, daddy came all over me.”
She doesn’t look like the idol who danced energetically onstage and blew kisses anymore. She looks like your fucktoy, forever tied to your cock and lap. You’ve marked her all over so no one can ever call her theirs. She’s all yours.
Yours…
The thought puts you in a frenzy again. You don’t have to think twice about it. No, you’re not even thinking at all. You grab Hitomi’s feeble body and nearly slam her on the bed. You forget that she’s so small that it isn’t impossible that one bump into her could break her. In fact, it becomes your goal.
You take her clothes off in an instant. The lamp draws attention to the tags on them. God, these must belong to the company, not Hitomi herself. They’ll wonder how the expensive fabric came back stained. They might even punish her.
Whatever. She looks better without them anyway. Your eyes feast upon Hitomi’s slim, tight body. Her abs are composed of angry, structured lines on her flat tummy. And of course, those pink nipples beg for your attention. They stand erect, waiting to be played with.
Your greedy hands claim Hitomi. You pinch her tight nipples, wrenching desperate whines from the column of her throat. Run your hands along those toned thighs and the heated core between them. One finger has her shaking. You rub your fingertip along her wet slit and the forward arches of her body greet you.
“You’re such a bad daddy,” Hitomi whimpers in between heavy, trembling breaths. “Look at what you did to me.”
You do as she says. Observe her glistening pussy, the cum that now drips from her face to her chest. Watch how she craves for your touch more than anything else in the world. She’s a far cry from the beloved K-pop idol with whom you shared a brunch date.
The arousal is thick in the air. You don’t bother for foreplay. She’s teased you for longer than she should have. This is a golden opportunity you would never dare let go of.
You swiftly enter her waiting cunt. The reaction you draw from her is priceless. A loud cry is punched out of her, her eyes going doe-wide. You keep your stomach tight to keep from cumming again, cumming too soon. She’s so unbelievably tight. It’s as if her whole body, every nerve and muscle within it, is working together to clench around your erection.
Your strokes drive Hitomi further into the bed. You constantly remind yourself to be careful. Fucking her doesn’t change the fact that she’s your favorite idol. Fucking her doesn’t mean you can destroy the only bed you can afford in Seoul after allotting your funds into her albums. But all these reminders prove to be fruitless. You just keep railing Hitomi, grasping the small of her waist to bury your shaft deeper inside her hole.
“Fuck, fuck, fuck.” Hitomi surrenders to you completely. She lets you mark her up and tell the world that you own her. She goes as far as to spread her legs wider for you, bearing the sharp, full sensations of your cock destroying her. “God, daddy, I can’t believe you had the balls to fuck me like this. You’re so big inside my little pussy.”
Her words are vulgar when put next to her adorable face. But now the innocence is gone from it. It was gone from the moment she got a feel of your cock. Your mission to destroy it is successful. The sparkle in her eyes is replaced with a deep, crazed hunger for your dick.
The pride in knowing that you did this to her, knowing this isn’t something to be proud of somehow has more blood pumping into your length. You’ve closed your eyes through the unbearable pleasure but the image of Hitomi, with her glazed eyes and marked neck, is burned into your head. You can’t escape her.
Your own moans deafen you, but her voice powers over it. She’ll never tire of reminding you of what you did to her.
“You really are so bad, daddy. Before I met you, I was a good girl who just did her job. I-I danced and sang and did… fuck, everything I can to make people think I’m sweet and innocent. I was doing so good.”
The waves of pleasure aren’t merciful on her. Her frame trembles beneath yours as she struggles to keep up with each big stretch, each large inch.
“But now look at what you did to me,” she cries out in a ragged breath. “You made me into your personal sex slave. I don’t think I can go a day after this without daddy’s fat cock in me. I dunno what to do.”
She consumes you, body and soul. It’s the same on your end. Hitomi and her tight little pussy are all you can think of.
As her sick, twisted mantra goes on, you become aware of how close you are. The heat climbs up to your neck. Your whole body feels like it’s imprisoned in a cage of hot arousal and sin. You settle a thumb over Hitomi’s pearl and start rubbing frantically, eager to get her over the edge as well.
“Oh fuck, daddy, what will I do if I can’t have your dick inside me? Need to feel your cum filling my womb up every second. I don’t want condoms either. You don’t need to be gentle with me. You can go as hard or as soft as you like because I was made for your cock.”
Your breath hitches. The messy, sloppy sounds of your cock entering her pussy are up to par with the loud sounds Hitomi’s making. She’s wildly bucking into you to meet your thrusts. Those talented hips draw your cock into her with dizzying circles as you hammer into her.
“Mmm, I don’t care what the fans say, daddy. Not even the company. You can cum inside me anytime, fuck me wherever you want… I want to feel you breed me. You can paint me with your cum before every stage and the fans wouldn’t even know I have your baby inside me. But they don’t have to… right, daddy? We can keep this between you and me, between daddy and his good little girl—”
With a final, feral shout, you thrust as deep as you can and bring her desires to reality. The orgasmic pulses of her walls squeeze the ropes of semen out of you. They spill into her fertile womb like a waterfall. Her screams are melodic background music to it all.
You lay your head on top of Hitomi’s chest, panting for life. Her dripping pussy warms you as you go soft once more. You never thought it could happen. It seemed an unlikely scenario, with how hard Hitomi’s worked for her orgasm, how she’s clinging onto you right now.
You forgot about the idea of unlikely scenarios a long time ago. While there was a time you thought this pornographic fanservice was only a dream, you’d argue you’re doing her a good favor as well. You’ve never seen her in such a state of bliss.
You watch the semen fall in thick drops from her bred hole. If only there were no consequences.
You have a crush on Seol Yoona, let's start with this fact first.
She's deadly gorgeous — her eyes, her nose, her lips. You're as tall as she is, but the aura she emanates makes you feel like you're five centimeters shorter. She's a year above you, and that just makes the entire ordeal better for you. It's your thing — being dominated at everything by a woman. Therefore, Seol Yoona, or Sullyoon, is just flawless in your eyes.
You don't even dare to look at her when you walk past each other in the hallway. You just hide behind your friends cowardly, and you hope that she'd notice you amongst the crowd one day. There's a conflict between your actions and your desire, apparently, but you just can't help getting flustered and becoming mute when she's in your proximity.
The chance presents itself eventually. It can't be more of an open chance than this one.
"Have you seen the pair list for the trip yet?" Taesan asks you. His hands are on the steering wheel, driving you to the faculty as usual. You help him with fuel costs from time to time.
"Not yet. I probably got paired with someone I don't know." You shrug, scrolling through your Reddit feed. There are a few memes and a few posts about the games you're still playing in your freshman year. "We'll forget each other in a week, so, like, what's the appeal of knowing it now?"
"You're fucking pessimistic, dude. Maybe you have one of those pretty sophomores as your partner!" Taesan encourages you as the car enters the campus. "What's her name again? Yoon?"
"Sullyoon, and what's the chance? Two? Three percent? What's one hundred divided by thirty-eight—"
"Sometimes you just gotta believe, man," Taesan cuts you off cleanly. He's like a lighthouse for your sailboat in a thunderstorm. "And it's over ten percent. If you get one of the dance club members, they might help you get to Yoon as well!"
"Sullyoon. Yoon is the debate club president," you correct Taesan, though you're opening the group chat now. The trip's main document is the latest message.
"Yeah, Sullyoon," and he pauses to make a turn before continuing. "Anyway, the key point is: you have to trust your luck. I'm sure you'll—"
"Holy fucking fuck."
"Told ya, is it one of the—"
"It's Sullyoon!" you shout into the small confines of Taesan's car, seeing your name to the right of Seol Yoona on the list. You examine again to make sure that you didn't hallucinate, and it's really you and Sullyoon! You're being paired together for the trip this summer break!
You can barely comprehend the notion of you actually conversing with her — the topic, the tone, the personality, her eyes, her nose, her lips. Fuck, even the idea of you being close to her felt so far-fetched just mere minutes ago, and now, you're finally going to get to know her!
"I'm gonna cum."
"At least get out of the car first."
---
"Aren't you gonna go sit with her?" Taesan asks you, and you open your eyes from the attempt to get a pleasant sleep on the way to the destination. "The middle of the bus is also, like, the safest place?"
You blink a few times to get yourself back to your senses before replying, "We die together!"
Taesan gives you a look that makes you rethink your decisions, and the courage starts to flow in, even if it's just a bit. "That's probably the worst excuse you could've given me. I'm kicking you out of this seat."
"No, you can't."
"Your loss, then," Taesan scoffs, and he gives you another decision-altering look.
"What if she says no? That's gonna ruin the whole trip for me!" you whine, and you know that you're just delaying the inevitable of actually talking to her for the first time at this point.
Taesan purses his lips for a while before answering, "You don't know the outcome yet." He shrugs, looking for Sullyoon, who's still sitting by herself in the middle row. "Don't live to regret this."
You look at Sullyoon sitting a few rows in front of you like Taesan does, and to be frank, his words are pretty damn reasonable here. It's a slim chance against no chance at all to sit next to her for the first half of the trip.
"Fine," you concede, and you get up from your seat.
Each step feels too heavy than it should be. Your eyes lock onto the back of Sullyoon's head. Her hair is done in a ponytail today. She looks pretty like this. In fact, she looks pretty in every hairstyle. You trudge towards her row slowly, trying not to let her out of sight. Each second feels awfully long and tormenting, and you just reel through the possibilities of your first conversation with her. You keep reminding yourself that you have to ask for the vacancy of the seat beside her.
Until you're right beside her.
"Uh," you manage with all of your consciousness and energy. Sullyoon turns to you. "Hey, Miss Seol."
"Hey!" she greets you with a polite smile. "What's up?"
"I was gonna ask," and a pause. You can't believe you're having a conversation with her like this. With sheer willpower, you continue, "If I could sit here, since we're partners for the trip."
Sullyoon's eyes widen. "Oh, you're my freshman! Sure!" and she pats the seat beside her invitingly. "I'll tell Bae to sit somewhere else."
"Oh, I can just—"
"Please, and we've never talked prior to this, right? We can get to know each other here!" Sullyoon persuades, and her eyes give the impression that she wants your company. You just cannot decline the heavenly offer granted by the stars.
"Uh, okay." You settle yourself beside Sullyoon cautiously, trying not to humiliate yourself with your awkward movements. "Can Miss Bae sit with my friend?"
"Sure thing! Where's your friend?"
"Uh," and turn back to Taesan, who's watching your shenanigans happily. "He's there." You point at him.
"Alright, I'll message her."'
You keep thinking of ways that you can fumble this, and you just can't seem to stop it. Still, having Sullyoon this close to you after just a few words makes your heart flutter, and you have to hold back your smile for the entire trip.
---
"What's that on your phone?" Sullyoon asks. It's about half an hour into the ride. You appreciate the fact that she takes interests about your phone's background.
"The wallpaper?" and you tilt your phone to her a bit, making sure that she can see your screen.
"Yeah. Is it a movie poster?"
"Aftersun, yeah. I watched it a few years ago, and it just stuck in my head ever since."
It's an honest answer. Aftersun is an influential film to you. You saw it at a theater when it was initially released, and you just can't get it out of your brain somehow. It's a five-star film, really.
"Never heard of it before," Sullyoon says with a chuckle. "I'm not good at movies, to be honest."
Bravely, you reply, "I can help you with that if you want," and you chuckle a bit, diluting the seriousness of your words. You're trying not to look too cocky with your cinema knowledge here.
"I'd say yes if I had time," Sullyoon answers. "Please don't take it to heart. It's just that: I have so many fucking things going on in my life."
"Sorry to hear that," you respond in an attempt to empathize. "I don't take it personally, don't worry."
Sullyoon smiles before showing you her wallpaper. There are some Japanese letters that you can't translate and a few cars that you find cute. The overall image looks rather green-tinted. "I took this myself."
"With, like, a camera?"
"Yeah, it was from my trip to Tokyo," and Sullyoon pulls her phone back, seemingly searching for something. "Let me find the album, uh, here!"
You look at a bright image of the buildings of Tokyo. The composition and the lighting look good to you.
"Wow," you utter. "It's gorgeous."
Sullyoon smiles again. "Thanks. This is one of the better ones. I'm, like, really proud of it."
You can't help but smile along with her. Sullyoon continues to show you the images from her trip, and they truly are eye candy. You shower her with praise for her photography skills. You learn about the camera she uses. She learns about your love for Aftersun a little more. The conversation goes back and forth throughout the ride, and you're so fucking proud of yourself that you asked for this seat in the first place.
You're winning Seol Yoona's heart.
---
The bus stops at the mandatory resting point for lunch. You've been here a few times with your family before. It looks a tad different from what you've remembered, though you appreciate the fact that you get to use the bathroom and have a few pieces of pizza.
"So, how do you guys know each other?" Bae asks, biting off a piece of pepperoni she's holding. Sullyoon is sitting beside her, munching on a piece of double cheese.
"We live in the same dorm. He was searching for someone who lived there in the group chat, and I contacted him," Taesan answers, and you're nodding along with his words to confirm the legitimacy of the story. "And I drive him to campus on the days that we don't skip our classes," he continues with a chuckle, earning a boisterous laugh from Bae.
"You're skipping classes as freshmen?" Sullyoon quizzes.
Not wanting to look like a pair of irresponsible students in Sullyoon's eyes, you hastily refute his claim, "No, no, no, he was just joking."
Sullyoon nods approvingly before biting off her double cheese again. "I wish I had the fire like you guys," she says. "You kinda lose the energy with time, you know."
Not knowing how to answer, you just smile back at her. Then, you go back to the piece of pepperoni in your hand again, hoping that when you and Taesan become sophomores, you can be good examples for the future freshmen.
"Taesan, you have a, uh, sauce?" Bae starts, then she pulls a piece of paper out of a box for him. "Left side."
---
"So, why do you like photography?" you start at some time into the second half of the ride. It has been a while of silence playing on your phones, and you don't want to look too antisocial here.
"It's my mom," and Sullyoon looks up from her phone. The afternoon light from outside the bus is making a good angle with her face. She just looks gorgeous like this — her brown hair, her eyes, her voice. "She's a photographer, and she taught me about cameras and how to take photos."
You nod along with her words. "Cool. My mom is a chef."
"That's cool, too. Does this mean you can cook well?" Sullyoon asks. Her head is tilted a little in curiosity.
"I can make a Thai omelette. Is that enough?" you joke back, eliciting a chuckle from Sullyoon.
"Not a very suitable set of skills for today's dinner, I'd say," Sullyoon says, and she leans in closer to you. Your heart races at the unexpected proximity, and you use all your willpower to stay still. Though it turns out that she's just whispering you a spoiler for today's dinner. "I'm not supposed to tell a freshman, but we're having barbecue tonight."
You can smell her perfume — summer.
Your muscles relax once Sullyoon pulls her mouth away from your ear. You take some time to process her words. It's a barbecue. There'll be a grill. There'll be fire.
"Will there be beer as well?" you ask, only to realize how much of an alcoholic you're being in front of your crush. Fuck.
Sullyoon laughs. Her voice dips a tad deeper than usual, but it's devastatingly attractive to your ears. "Isn't that, like, the whole point of this trip? Getting wasted together and floating around in a pool?"
"Fair point," you reply, and the image of a drenched Sullyoon plagues your mind in an instant — clothes clinging to her skin, wet hair, her curves. Maybe you'll be making out with her in the water with your breath smelling like wheat and rye. You'll hold her close to your body as you kiss her with need. You'll—
"I still have to make sure of your safety, though, so don't drink too much. I can't deal with the faculty and your parents," Sullyoon half-jokes and half-pleads, pulling you away out of the fantasy. You understand her burden, of course, and you're going to be taking care of a freshman next year as well. You don't want physics-bending karma to come back and bite you in your ass.
"Sure, Miss Seol."
"Please, just call me Sullyoon," she urges. "Seriously, I feel like a fucking historical artifact being called Miss Seol, and I think I trust you enough now."
You get confused a bit at the idea of Sullyoon trusting you. Alas, it has been only a few hours since your first conversation. Nonetheless, you can jump out of this bus onto the road and ruin a car's windshield with this level of ecstasy. Seol Yoona trusts you, and that's probably another quest completed on the way to being her younger and slightly shorter boyfriend.
"Yeah, uh, okay, Sullyoon," you manage, doing your best to hide the joy inside your heart. It works for a while. At the moment Sullyoon turns away, you ball your hands into fists to celebrate the worthwhile event quietly out of her sight.
---
After a while, your view of the side of the bus becomes stores and houses planted along the road. There are some traffic lights on the way to your accommodation, as opposed to none on the highway earlier. You've just entered the metropolitan area of the town.
It doesn't take long before the bus turns into a small street. In the front, there are a bunch of rest houses sitting beside the alley. You see pools behind the wall of a house. Your bus stops eventually, and being nearest to the exit, you're the first to get off the vehicle.
"Hey," Sullyoon calls, and you turn back to her, not forgetting to leave the walkway space for a few people to walk past you towards the exit. "Can I have your number?"
Your mouth hangs open slightly in shock as Sullyoon locks her doe eyes with yours. Seol Yoona just asked for your number, and you can't fucking believe this. Your hands are still operating, at least, as you just whip out your phone from your pocket and touch the top of it with Sullyoon's.
Your phone vibrates slightly as her contact appears on your screen. The profile picture is her ID picture, you think. It looks so formal, with Sullyoon as her display name.
"Great, I'll message you when we're ready," Sullyoon says with a nod. "Or you can just come by and hang around first. Either way works."
"Sure, I'll put my stuff in my bedroom and go to you guys," you assure her, and she seems to be happy with that.
---
Sullyoon's house looks just like yours. It's not even mirrored. There's a pool table on the left side of the entrance. You can walk into the house a bit to find a pool filled with water on the right. The television is in the same position. There's a fridge beside it. The clock says that it's about four in the evening. Still, Sullyoon is nowhere to be seen, so you just settle yourself on the couch in the middle of the room meekly.
After a while, a door beside the television opens, and someone comes out of it.
She's not Sullyoon, though — a bit shorter, sharper face. It's Oh Haewon, still in her bus clothes of a Hawaiian shirt and jeans.
In Sullyoon's social circle, she spends most of her time with five women: Lily Morrow, Oh Haewon, Bae Jinsol, Kim Jiwoo, and Jang Kyujin. They're in the engineering dance club together, after all. You've seen their performances at a number of events: the orientation day, the international night, and now, the house trip. In your humble opinion, they're deathly beautiful in their own styles, and in reality, so many people have crushes on them. Though none of them have ever made a single move out of fear and anxiety.
In the group, Sullyoon is the most popular, with Haewon coming in a close second ranking. It's more of a preference whether you prefer the cute, innocuous vibe of Sullyoon or the tomboyish, vulgar vibe of Haewon. You find yourself more fitting to Sullyoon's energy, though it's not that you find Haewon any less gorgeous.
"Hey," Haewon greets you with a small nod. "Sullyoon's partner, right?"
You gulp. "Yeah, I, uh, she told me that I can be here, so I'm here."
Haewon nods again receptively before walking towards the couch. She sits down not too far from you, and she grabs the remote to play something.
"Oh, there's Netflix," Haewon mutters, and she clicks on the icon. It brings her to a login screen, however. "Damn."
"I have Netflix," you blurt out in an effort to help Haewon.
"Aren't you staying at that house?" Haewon asks, pointing back to your villa. "What? Are you and Sullyoon secretly fucking or something?" She shoots you a suspicious look, seemingly piqued by the notion of your trysts with her friend.
You can't say a word as your eyes widen and your mouth hangs open. Your body freezes in your seat, unsure of how to respond to the fuckery Haewon just uttered. It's as if your heart just stops for a few seconds just to process Haewon's awfully forward question.
"What?" you manage, utterly and completely shocked. "We're not—"
Suddenly, Haewon bursts out into a boisterous laugh, moving from side to side in her seat. "Fucking hell, I'm sorry," and she reaches out towards you, pacifying the situation. "I know you guys just met. I was just fucking with ya, sorry again."
Your expression dissolves into a shy laugh along with Haewon. "Oh, well," you mutter between chuckles. "That's quite a welcome."
"Yeah, I shouldn't, no, I wouldn't do it if I had known," Haewon says as her laugh softens into a smile. She then hands you the remote in her hand. "Here, log in with your Netflix."
"Thanks," and you take the remote from Haewon. Your heartbeat slows down a bit, and you start working on logging into the pool villa's Netflix with your account that you're sharing with Taesan and a few of your friends.
"Well, with that out of the way," Haewon restarts the conversation. She scoots a little closer towards you, and you tense up again. Your fingers tremble slightly on your phone while trying to access your Netflix account. "Do you like Sullyoon? Like, as your senior match or whatever."
"She's wonderful! I like her vibe," you answer honestly, alternating your eyes between Haewon, your phone, and the television. It's quite a sensory overload here. "She's so kind to me."
"Yeah, she's lovely all around. It's her expertise," Haewon says, sinking herself into the cushion of the couch. "You two will get along, don't worry."
"I hope so."
You finally link your account to the television, and Haewon claps merrily at the success. The screen shows a few algorithmic suggestions, and it's clear that you're a film buff.
"Do you have any hate-watching suggestions while we're drunk?" Haewon asks.
"The Room, I think?"
"I believe you," and Haewon does a finger gun pointing at you. You just smile at her.
---
The sizzling from the grill fills the night air along with the splashes of water in the pool. The outdoor area of Sullyoon's house smells of cooked meat and beer. You're sitting in a chair shyly, scrolling Twitter as alcohol begins to set in. There are a few freshmen, including Taesan, and sophomores, including Bae, playing in the pool together. You and Sullyoon remain on the land still, talking about tedious topics and interests that become interesting just because it's Seol Yoona you're talking to.
"How has your freshman year been?" Sullyoon asks, swirling the contents of her can around a bit, and she takes a sip.
"It's fine, I guess," you respond without looking up from your phone. "Took some time before I settled in, even with Taesan."
Sullyoon chuckles. "I get it — new environment, new friends, yadda yadda." She takes a bite off her barbecue stick — green pepper — and Sullyoon asks you more with her mouth full of food, "Did anyone come with you? Like, from the same high school."
You look up from your phone to meet Sullyoon's eyes before answering, "Nope, I'm alone here. Was really lucky I met him in that dorm group."
Sullyoon nods at the same time a splash of water lands on her feet, and she flinches a little. You look at the pool to find Bae and Taesan smiling apologetically.
"Sorry," Bae says from the water. Sullyoon just accepts her apology with a nod.
"Anyway," Sullyoon restarts, turning back to you. The can of beer is still staying in her hand, and she takes another swig. "Let's talk about something more personal."
You look at her, puzzled by her statement. "Wasn't that already personal?" and you let out a chuckle to lighten the seriousness of the statement. You don't want her to feel intimidated by your words.
Sullyoon laughs, seemingly a little drunk now. "There are more personal things than you settling into college life, you know?"
You're still too shy with two cans of beer in your veins. However, you really want to get to know Sullyoon better than this. You can feel your vision getting a tad blurry, but she remains as gorgeous as ever — her eyes, her hair, her lips. God, you just want her to pin you against the wall and start whispering dehumanizing insults into your ear.
"I don't have a girlfriend or a boyfriend, if that's what you wanna know," you declare, picking up the can to take a sip out of shyness. You wonder how and why the hell you said that. It's not like you look good enough to have a romantic life.
Sullyoon chuckles, fidgeting with her almost-empty can. "Me too." You register the intoxication in her eyes and tone, eventually. Her off-the-perfect-cadence giggles ring in your ear canals against the noise from the pool and the grill. "I've been on a few dates in college, and they're all just fucking boring."
"Boring?" you probe her a bit.
Sullyoon stands up from the opposite seat, and she sashays towards another chair next to you. The act makes your inhibitions drop slightly — proximity and all. She reaches for the can of beer back at her seat, and you see how defined her arm muscles are — curves, veins, and strength. You'd really like her to lock your head with that.
"Yeah, they're" — she takes another sip — "they always try to please me, and I can see through that."
"Like, uh, what usually happens?" you ask more questions without much self-doubt. The tendency to second-guess your words seems to disappear bit by bit.
Sullyoon scoffs, then there's another sip before she answers, "They act weird. I don't know how to describe it." Sullyoon looks up into the sky, reiterating her thoughts, and you follow her vision to see the stars flickering on the pitch-black blanket of the nocturne. "They just don't stay true to themselves! Yeah, that's the word."
You ponder her words. Not staying true to oneself is something that you oppose, obviously, but you also have some concern if you're falling into that category by falling for her as well — agreeing to everything she says and pretending to be someone else.
"Do you think I act weird?" you blurt out in your drunken stupor. You're a tad concerned about dishonesty, and maybe you'd get a free compliment from her for being yourself for the last 12 hours since the first encounter.
"Do you have a crush on me or something?" Sullyoon teases, looking at you with playfulness in her eyes. That smirk is killing you. "Why the fuck would you even ask that?" and she chuckles lightly.
Your eyes widen as you regain your senses for a few seconds. Her words are powerful, and you just can't answer the question she's using to interrogate your heart. All that you can do is take a sip from your can to hide the color on your cheeks.
You don't register Sullyoon's hand on your shoulder for the first second of contact. Again, the alcohol is setting in hastily. Still, your heart beats faster when her body scent reaches your nose — sweat, perfume, and some beer — and you almost choke on your drink. Your hands tremble under the weight of reality and closeness. Her mouth is agape, as if ready to do something unpredictable. You look into her eyes. There is a lot that's going on in her pupils — energy, mischief, and perhaps some desire.
You stammer out, "Come, come again?" She smells so fucking wonderful, and you wouldn't mind one bit if she calls you weird as an answer.
Then, Sullyoon just chuckles in front of your face, and you just look at her, confused.
"Just messing with ya," she utters with a smile before pulling herself away from you. Sullyoon then clinks her can with yours gently. "I'm drunk as hell now, so please excuse me."
Shakily, you bring the can to your mouth again for another sip while chuckling awkwardly.
"And no, I don't think you act weird around me," Sullyoon says.
Your heart flutters at her answer. The urge to jump into the pool out of joy is strong, but you remain mostly still as you ask her, "Really?"
Sullyoon shrugs. "Yeah, at least from what I see, I think you're often honest."
"Often?"
Another splash of pool water finds your feet and Sullyoon's. Both of you jump at the coldness, and Sullyoon goes a little further than you by hissing at the swimmers.
She turns back to meet your eyes. "I think we're gonna get all wet by the time I finish explaining this frequency adjective to you," Sullyoon states, tilting her head slightly towards the sliding doors, and you get the notion in that instant.
"We're just gonna sit on the couch and watch The Room, right?"
"What the fuck is The Room?"
"I did not hit her, it's not true! It's bullshit! I did not hit her!" Tommy then throws his water bottle away. "I did not. Oh hi, Mark."
"Oh, hey Johnny, what's up?"
Sullyoon nods beside you on the living room couch, a different can of beer that's almost full in her hand. "I see the appeal now."
"There are a bunch of weird dialogues like this, by the way. This is just one of them," you add, taking a chug off your can. "It's a fucking goldmine."
Sullyoon smiles back at you. "Splendid."
---
"Do you actually smoke?"
"This is Haewon's."
"Where are yours?"
"I don't smoke."
There are two cans of beer sitting idly on the marble sink. The area of this room is generally too small for two people, but with this amount of distance, you're fitting into it perfectly. There's the smell of scented candles that reminds you of serenity, but again, the ecstasy you've been chasing is already in front of you.
"I'm not trying this," you decline with a profuse shake of your head.
"Weren't you chugging beer like crazy earlier?" Sullyoon scoffs, breath smells of fermented wheat. She picks up a lighter to ignite the cigarette in her hand. A line of smoke rises from the opposite end from where her fingers are holding it.
"It wasn't that crazy, to be fair," you whine back. "This is, like, my, uh."
Sullyoon laughs in your face with visible signs of late-stage intoxication: lack of balance, unfocused eyes, shaky hands. "It's your eighth can tonight, by the way," and she points her thumb to the side, to the cans on the sink.
She keeps track of your beer consumption history, apparently, and you tease back, giggling, "You like me enough to count?"
"What do you think?" she plays coy, bringing the stick closer to the mouth. She doesn't take a drag yet, and you just observe the light at the end of it flickering in a slow rhythm. "Am I being a responsible sophomore, or am I having a crush on a person whom I've just met this morning?"
And you're snapped back into reality for a heartbeat. Within that timeframe, it's clear that you need more time and familiarity with Sullyoon to build her trust. You're a bit gutted that it's not so soon, to be honest, but you just hide any trace of that feeling with a small laugh.
"A person can dream, I guess," you blurt out, so unaware of how cocky you look.
"Yeah, I know I'm hot," Sullyoon scoffs, and her lips finally touch the cigarette. You watch her suck in air through her mouth. It's devastatingly attractive. Then, a puff of smoke hits your face, eliciting a few coughs from you, and you wonder how the hell she doesn't struggle with taking a drag.
"That wasn't" — and there's another cough — "hot."
"You're being obtuse," Sullyoon scoffs again. You're irked by her confidence a bit, but a part of you also finds that, in a sense, hot.
"I don't wanna get cancer," you deflect, trying your best to look strong in front of Sullyoon. Still, with this shorter height and younger age, you probably look deathly cute to her instead of intimidating. To make matters worse, she's ruffling your hair with a smile that's just making your muscles go wobbly against the bathroom door.
"You're a terrible liar," Sullyoon jokes. "I'll show you something."
Sullyoon takes another drag — soft, awfully quiet, glittering at the tip of her stick. She brings her other hand up to your mouth, and you flinch a bit out of the last remnants of your humility. Still, Sullyoon's thumb chases your lips and pries your mouth open gently. You loosen your jaw as her face moves closer towards yours.
A puff of white cloud leaves her mouth with a small push of air from her lungs, and you close your eyes once it reaches you. You block your trachea. The gust just rages in your mouth, and you let it stay there for a bit. You think you've seen this before — Joachim Trier's lens. And if your memory isn't too fuzzy and altered, what Sullyoon is doing to you right now looks stunningly ethereal.
Her breath is hot against your face. Her thumb burns your lips. Her smoke scorches the inside of your cheeks. It's one chillingly gorgeous spectacle if someone happens to stumble into this bathroom — the closeness, the white curls, the cadence of her chuckle afterwards. Seol Yoona is blowing smoke from her mouth into yours.
And you're pretty sure that Renate and Herbert are going to be ecstatic seeing you and Sullyoon reenacting their image.
A few heartbeats later, you blow a gust out of your lungs and open your eyes again. You're greeted with the sight of the dissolving vapor in front of Sullyoon's angelic features. She chuckles heartily, and she doesn't make a scene of brushing the cloud away. Her thumb is still on your lips, prying your mouth open with minimal force. She looks dreadfully pretty under the bathroom light and a layer of white puff.
"It's called shotgunning, I think," Sullyoon finally breaks the silence, and you just hum back at her as an affirmation. "I like it when we just stay like this."
"Like what?" you utter dumbly. Your brain seems to be completely fried from that puff, and you can only repeat her words and express agreement at this point.
"Close, but not too close," Sullyoon huffs before taking another drag, then there's another shotgunning. The cloud spins in your mouth, and you push it out softly. The whiteness dissipates into Sullyoon smiling in front of you and continuing her answer, "It's thrilling."
You're all dazed and enchanted by her spell — smoke and perfume. Your heart is yearning for more of her touch than just the thumb on your lips and the white puffs. You want to chase her lips, but the threat of losing her wholly looms over you. This entire thing is a thriller, honestly.
You gulp. "We're going to do this until—"
"It burns out, yeah," and Sullyoon winks. "Fun, isn't it?"
You rest your back against the door. "Then what?"
Sullyoon scoffs, and she ruffles your hair again tenderly. You just melt without an ounce of resistance — wobbly legs, slack arms. Her other hand is still holding the stick between her fingers. There's a line of smoke floating from the bright end.
"I don't know, really," Sullyoon answers your question, hand leaving your hair and reaching for her beer on the side. Your eyes are locked on the light from her cigarette, only to be told, "Look at me, pretty boy."
The name sends a shiver down your spine, obviously, and you shift your gaze back to her. She looks gorgeous as always: eyes, nose, lips. Now, with the label, you'd really love to just let her do whatever the hell she pleases with you.
"You look like a delicacy," Sullyoon says, and she takes another sip off her can. The alcohol helps your heart from beating too fast from the notion of you being her metaphorical dinner to satiate her apparent lust. "I wanna fucking devour you, to be honest."
Her eyes are still locked on yours. The duration of the prolonged eye contact should make you feel uneasy under sobriety, but you're leaning in closer towards Sullyoon as she puts her can away from her mouth. You're met with the sight of her wet lips glistening in the low light of the bathroom. Suddenly, however, Sullyoon pushes you back with her beer can against the door, eliciting a moan out of your mouth, knocking the air out of your lungs.
"Do as I say, pretty boy," Sullyoon commands, moving so awfully close to you that her lips almost touch yours. She doesn't make a show of smoking into your mouth anymore. The distance is gnawing at your heart, but with that assertion, you don't dare closing that gap.
You smile weakly with the surmounting excitement running in your veins. It's really happening right now — the golden, clear-cut chance with your crush. Your heart is hammering inside your chest. Your fingers quiver incessantly. Your pupils are certainly dilating.
Still, the playful edge in you emerges for a bit. "What if I don't?"
Sullyoon smirks, and a scoff leaves her mouth. "I'm sure you're not that stupid, right?"
"Definitely," and you chuckle in her face. It's disgustingly brave. "Maybe."
Sullyoon tilts her head a bit, then she faux begs, "Take off your shorts, pretty please?"
There's a certain kind of teasing in your movements as you remove the garments from your waist. It's to your best knowledge from being an engineering student. It's to your utmost ability to move when having a beer can on your chest and the bathroom door on your back. You don't really expect her to be more aroused by the swaying of your hips or the sultry-drunk expressions from you.
Sullyoon smiles at your enthusiasm, at least. You're elated with that. Then, she peers down to see your lush hair seeping from under the shorts.
"You don't even trim it," she states, still pinning you against the door with her beer can. The force lessens a bit, though. "Fucking disgusting," and she completes her insult with a devilish smile.
You push your boxers and shorts down further, lifting your legs to help with the removal. At a certain point, your cock springs out with eagerness, spreading precum over her casual clothes. Your body is shivering with anticipation and anxiety, while Sullyoon observes the entirety of you, taking a few drags and blowing the smoke onto your face.
Eventually, your bottom half is free of clothes. The vulnerability is terrifying under Sullyoon's impish expression. Her eyes scan all over your exposed body just to elicit some more goosebumps on your skin. You're smiling weakly out of intoxication, regardless. Your affection for her is running deadly deep.
She takes a drag, removing the can from your chest. You feel you can breathe properly again. There's this slightly numbing pain in your ribs, but you're too drunk and lusted-out to give any fucks about that. She's taller than you are. She's older than you are. She's stronger than you are. This is nauseatingly perfect.
"Go to the toilet," Sullyoon issues another order, and she moves out of the way to let you walk with boxers and pants on your ankles.
You take a few clumsy steps to the toilet, feeling Sullyoon's eyes on you. It's probably the natural response for you to feel the need to pee upon seeing the ceramic bowl. So, you aim your hard cock towards the water body. It's difficult with an erection, but—
"I've always wanted to do this." Sullyoon's chest is pressed against your back. Her left hand slides all over your abdomen, while the right is still holding the borrowed cigarette and the beer can. Of course, you moan with pleasure and her warmth. She stops around your lushness above your cock, eventually, and she gives it a soft press.
"Fuck," you whine whorishly. She gives it another press, and the tingle in your bladder becomes stronger. You can barely stand right now.
"Piss for Mommy, pretty boy, piss all that beer out," Sullyoon coos, and you feel her chin on your right shoulder. She takes another inhale of the nicotine, and you can only watch the smoke flying out of her mouth from beside you. Her left hand moves down a little more to help with the aim under the state of erection. She wraps her hand around your cock, bending it down a bit more.
That's when it starts for you.
There's the sound of your fluid hitting the water body in the toilet — slightly yellowish. Your body loosens up a bit. Sullyoon hums approvingly as a response, then, "It's so hard. I'm sure it's because of me, right?"
"Yes, Mommy," you speak, the moniker slipping out too easily. Your eyes are locked on your firmly held shaft that's still leaking.
Sullyoon takes another drag, blowing the smoke below her. The cloud envelops your cock, and you find the image somewhat cinematic, to be honest. You keep your piss consistent, forcing it out of the bladder in a powerful stream against the ceramic and the toilet water.
"Mommy's pissy boy," Sullyoon whispers, prompting a moan out of your mouth. Your pliability has never reached such high, and it's Seol Yoona — your crush — who helps turn your brain into a mush. "You're such a nasty little slut."
You repeat mindlessly, "I'm Mommy's pissy boy. I'm Mommy's little slut."
Sullyoon puts the cigarette into your mouth, blowing a puff into your right ear. The cloud is warm on your lobe. The drag is warm between your lips. "Take a drag, pretty boy."
You're too stupid and wasted right now to resist. There's a cough when the smoke hits those tiny bags in your lungs, and puffs leave your mouth. The stick doesn't fall, still. That's your first time smoking, and being held by the cock by your crush while pissing does elevate the experience by a margin.
Down below, your stream goes down in its intensity. A straight line becomes a curved one, and a curved one becomes droplets. The noise coming from the ceramic becomes quieter, and Sullyoon helps you shake the last few beads out of your slit. Your body can barely stand up now. You can just collapse within Sullyoon's embrace, really.
She holds you like that for a while, letting you bask in her warmth and your own vulnerability. You let out a few whines from between your lips as the drag remains in your mouth. Every breath is punctuated with a puff leaving with the moans. Then, Sullyoon sways from side to side languidly, and you follow promptly. She's humming some tune that you don't recognize — perfect cadence, almost somber tone.
"Such a good boy for Mommy," Sullyoon praises you, chin still on your right shoulder. Your heart jumps at the compliment, obviously, as you dance along with her.
"Thank you, Mommy," you say feebly, a bit muffled by the cigarette. Sullyoon reclaims it from your mouth with her fingers, eventually. Another puff is blown out of her mouth.
"Almost burned out," Sullyoon says.
Your eyes are still looking into the wall in front of you, mostly thoughtlessly except for the movements and her care. "What's burning out?" you ask, shifting your weight between the legs for the nocturnal waltz.
Another exhale, another white gust, another hum — Sullyoon answers, "The drag — this is my only one."
"Ask for one more from Haewon, Mommy."
But Sullyoon just stays there, hugging you from behind, lingering with you. Her left hand is still on your hard cock. A few more puffs pass by your ear as you two move from side to side. The room smells of scented candles.
"I wanna stay like this," Sullyoon finally says, and she presses the cigarette against the wall in front of you. There's an inky mark on the vast whiteness of the bathroom wall. "You smell like beer, by the way," and she finally takes a deep breath from something that isn't a cigarette: you.
The exposure to Sullyoon's proximity just pierces all of your defenses. Just this morning, if someone told you that you'll be in this situation — your crush holding your dick while you're peeing — you'd tell them to fuck the hell off. Right now, you don't know if it's the alcohol that's doing the talking, but you think it's real — her affection, her body against yours, her words.
Within her embrace, you've never felt weaker than right now.
Tags: angst, smut (but it’s absolutely not the focus), polars, friendstolovers/enemiestolovers, general incoherence, time. time. time
21k words
Better consumed on fanprose
For @azelfty and @jmuns-kpop prompt, From Time to Time. Much love to the two hosts for helping me with making this more palatable.
For anyone else, it'd be impossible to know her this well. And that's the thing. You're not sure how to juggle this. You and her. Her and her. The fact that you've seen every facet of her being. The good, the bad, the ugly. That you can't leave her. You're an epiphyte, non-sessile, and every moment she's still there.
Your mother said the two of you created destiny when you were born. Same antenatal classes, same expected term. You remember it to the dot. Five minutes and forty-four seconds younger. Just barely.
Your brain hadn't even developed, so how were you expected to know that that was when it all began?
You couldn't know how much you'd learn to hate her- You couldn't know how much she'd be by your side.
And you get it. Every single moment you get it. It's high school. It's the time for firsts. First loves, first experiences. First time falling, not in the kiddish way, the way you trip over a rock and scrape skin on asphalt. In the adult way, holding onto another's hand like you're clutching mom's too tight.
Everyone's been telling you she's pretty. You? You don't feel that way. You've seen her face too long. You know it too well. She's objectively beautiful, sure, but subjectively she carved out her own definition of herself ages ago. It's too complicated to get into what that means, because at the end of the day, subjectivity is no definite meaning.
Kim Minji. Small face, fragile eyes. Sometimes she doesn't look like she's really there. Real, tangible, existing in a universe. She was born for all the right things.
You've seen for real when she's at her best- You've seen for real when she's at her worst.
She loves you- she hates you.
She's your best friend- she's your worst enemy.
She hurts- you blister.
Twelve at noon and already she's spinning around you, hand on arm, tugging you along. Cheese kimbap on the lunch menu- she can't miss it.
“You're gonna make me late," she growls, eyes forward, parting the sea of brown uniforms and black skirts.
“And you're making this all about you again. Seriously, you need to take it easy," you chuckle, half a smile on as you glide behind her.
“That's not the point," Minji snaps, creating gaps for the two of you to slip through with the heat of her gaze alone. “Your problems are my problems. I care, so when you need help, I'm there. If nothing else, it's kind of in my job description."
And you know. Class President Minji. Head Prefect Minji. Perfectly-pressed uniform, face of the school Minji. She said she found her purpose here, making use of all her god-given talents the way they were always made to be used, to stand taller, a head above the rest.
That's how she's always been.
The doors to the infirmary swing open, Minji striding in like all the nurses there- some two or three times older than her- belong to her.
“Ma'am, injury," Minji states, lifting your arm up by the wrist to show the nearest nurse your excoriated elbow. You glance at the red patch you were awarded with just five minutes ago, a result of ignorance. The sting's already faded, and you don't really need this, but well, she'll just cite protocol or something.
“Could you get him a plaster? And disinfect the wound?"
The nurse nods, giving Minji an obedient nod and shooting you a slightly perturbed look for inconveniencing her day. You blink, both of you staring at absolutely nothing happening for a couple of seconds.
“I got it, you know," you finally say, eager to help her along, “you don't have to stick around to watch me get patched up. Go get your kimbap."
Minji flicks her eyes to yours, mind finally chugging along. Her painfully tight grip on your wrist loosens.
“Right. Let me know if you need anything, okay?"
You wave her off with a small hand signal, and she offers a wry smile, eyes lingering till she crosses the doorway.
***
“Stop creating headaches for me," Minji bites, head turned to the side on the last step to the doorway, “you'd think you're old enough to know how to take care of yourself."
You resist the urge to snap back, sighing. You're tired, and the faster she gets out of your hair, the better.
The nurse wheels over on her rolling chair, plaster and antiseptic in hand, nudging towards the bed beside her for you to sit down so she can get on with it. You hardly wince when she rubs the swab into your skin with more force than necessary. Like you said, it hardly stings. When she's done, she tells you you can go, but is fine with you staying for a few minutes.
You brush your finger across the plaster absentmindedly, eyes glancing down to it. The design is familiar, startling you. You're surprised this Doraemon version still exists, ten years later. And it's oddly topical. Your eyes turn to outside the window and immediately you're ten years back, when Minji was just as much a headache as she is now. The kind of memory that makes you feel like nothing's changed.
“You need a plaster for that," you murmur, crouched next to Minji, splattered on the playground floor.
Short hair, purple dress. The Minji of this age is a forgotten memory, someone only her family can recall. And you, of course.
“No I don't," Minji grunts, slowly picking herself up from the floor. You notice the dirt on her cheek, the significant gash on her forearm. You probably look callous.
“Yeah you do. Mom says that when it gets red and wet, you need to cover it up. With a plaster."
“Well I don't need your plaster," Minji retorts, pushing herself to her knees.
You watch her again, every detail on her firm, youthful face.
“Is she alright?"
You turn your head to Minhyun. “She's got a cut. She can't play."
“I can play," Minji growls.
You turn back to her, eyes cool. You stand back up, leaving her to pick herself back up.
“You're stubborn." You say simply, walking away.
You skip lunch, which is fine.
You twirl your pen idly in your hand, utilising dozens of memorised finger tricks, spinning it over the hollow between thumb and forefinger. You're early to the next lesson.
In your head, you replay the scene one more time, the last play that got you injured. You had the ball, and you were dribbling it forward. Passed the first defender with two gentle touches, easy, and the next provided more of a challenge. A quick one two, forcing the scenario where the only option was a pass back to you.
And you'd have made the shot too, if the idiot hadn't tugged at your sleeve and brought both of you to the floor.
And right then and there, Minji had appeared, like she had known. Like she'd been waiting all along to catch you in that moment. Triumphant, towering over you, like she's won something. And you already feel, before you even look up and see, the shadows of her hair across your cheek.
She gives you a cursory scan, like reading lines off a script. Barely even there.
“Nurse's office," she declares, before the adrenaline's even faded, before the pain's even sunk in.
“Piss off, Minji."
“You've got a cut," Minji presents, like there's nothing more that delights her than seeing you with wounds.
“I'm not going for a damn cut."
“I wasn't asking."
You push yourself to your feet, quick, like you're getting back up after taking a haymaker. You square your shoulders, straighten your back, reminding her who really towers above who. Your frame is enough to wrap all around her.
“And what? You're gonna make me?"
And Minji grabs your wrist, right over the split skin, careless, eliciting a hiss. And she tugs at you with serious strength, the strength you only get when you want to strike down someone you absolutely detest. And the reality is that you could still break away just as easily, tug your arm free. But when she pulls you off the field, in front of all the confused eyes and the ones going, not this again, you don't fight back, because you don't exactly need to.
And because there's a rule stopping you.
“So, another spat with queen Minji," a soundlessly drawn chair heralds the arrival of your deskmate, Haerin.
You glance up, into her feline eyes, the ones she's somehow mastered to give absolutely nothing away. “There was no spat."
“She dragged you to the nurse's office." She states.
“I had a cut," you grit your teeth.
“You followed. Willingly."
“Your point being? I shouldn't have rolled into my back and exposed my belly?"
Haerin doesn't even blink. Just stares at you. Unnerving, as always. “When cats are backed into a corner, they face belly towards their attacker. So they have more limbs clawing out to attack."
Of course feline-synonymous-Haerin would use that as an analogy.
“Your point," you restate.
Haerin's eyes turn to the front of the class, where students are starting to file in. “You're going to maul her back. When?"
“I'm not going to maul her. Or do anything."
“Not going to, not intending, but you will. Because it's instinct. And all animals are slaves to them. It'll happen."
“Is society just a perfect recreation of Animal Farm for you, hmm? Cat? And why are you interested?"
Haerin glances at you with a look that answers all your questions and does nothing of the sort simultaneously.
“Keeping up to date with your shenanigans is useful for me. And I don't want to be instigated."
But you want to be there to watch, you think, having known Haerin for long enough. Prof enters next, and you sigh, settling your hands on the edge of your textbook.
If this is war, the state of the battlefield hasn't changed in years. But it's paradoxically not a stalemate.
“Maybe she'll finally force you to give her a thank you," Haerin comments, humorous for her, somehow.
Playing favours? You don't owe Kim Minji a damn thing.
***
You owe Kim Minji everything. Before you were born, the two of you were intertwined, and so naturally- everything after.
Nursery, preschool. Every damn thing, you've been together. Your parents are developed best friends. It gets easier that way, to be conjoined at the hip. Recommendation is the next step. Your mom puts you to piano, says that the trend in reversing, that guys are in. Minji gets the drums, rhythm in her head like the assured way she walks. But the same music school.
Yeah, the two of you are even neighbours. Same white picket fence, the ones people metaphorically sit on. Your families rotate who sends the two of you to school in the mornings. And, if you haven't emphasised enough, same school. Every single time.
“How's your cut?" Minji asks, shoulder to shoulder with you, feet in step. Something she adopted since young, saying she likes the symmetry. A little thing you remember.
“Pretty sure it's already healed, after the wonderful care and concern of my class president."
Minji clicks her tongue, but there's a grin on her face. “No need to be sarcastic. I know you missed lunch."
“I was indeed robbed," you nod, “My class president abandoned me with icy nurse Jeon while she went off on her own to enjoy cheese kimbap delicacy."
Minji guffaws.
“A tragedy," Minji plays along, but pulls out a fist-sized package wrapped hastily in a plastic bag.
“I saved you two pieces," She says, offering them. You smile, grabbing them eagerly and digging in with your dirty fingers.
Minji wrinkles her nose at your display. “Unhygienic."
“I was starved," you counter through a mouthful of rice. Minji shakes her head, turning back to the road with a grin and her hands on her backpack straps.
“How was class?" You continue, voice still muffled by rice. Ill-mannered, but there isn't a day that goes by without one of you asking this question on the road home.
“Fine. Prof Lee was being a hardass, as usual. Why haven't you read ten chapters ahead? Do you not know the syllabus inside out? You guys are ready to fail finals? Typical stuff."
“This is why I left his class," you reply, digging around in the plastic bag like you'll somehow duplicate the last piece with a finger spell.
“Well, Prof Jang is a bum. So it's either him or a guaranteed fail."
“Which is why I have you to tutor me. I can't lose."
Minji rolls her eyes. “Danielle asked me for help with planning Teacher's Day."
“Of course she did. What would poor Vice-pres Danielle do without golden girl president Minji's help?"
“Don't be like that. She's helpful. And nice."
“Pretty too," you jest.
“Hey! No. We are not talking about that again. More importantly, she asked me for help to plan the sports and games. She needs ideas for the inclusive activity."
“What, does chess with your homeroom teacher not sound riveting?"
Minji rolls her eyes, again. Habitual. “Well, I can't think of anything right now either. Fortunately, I know someone who sacrificed doing anything productive in life to waste his time playing games."
You narrow your eyes. “I play games productively."
“Sure you do. So, any ideas?"
“Why are you roping me into this? Do I get a nice treat at the end of the stick?"
“Just follow the carrot, will you?"
You grumble, or try to. But Minji still looks at you expectantly like you'll pull magic out of your arse.
“At least give me a moment to come up with something. Otherwise all I'm gonna give you is like, a soccer match, or something."
Minji freezes in her tracks, off tempo, and you have to crane your neck to look back.
“Genius!" She shrieks, bounding forward.
You blink. “I uh, I have been known for my extremely wrinkly brain-”
“It's perfect! Students against teachers, a game for all ages! It'll be competitive, tense, easy to play-”
“Yeah, that," you finger-gun, like you had that all calculated.
“-and all those who have nothing to do would!'t be bored being the audience. It makes perfect sense. You're the best!"
Minji leaps onto you, catching you off-guard, and it's muscle memory that you remember how to catch her embrace. She does it often, with you, the soft scent of cocoa and mulberries and the fulfilling warmth of having figured out exactly where your limbs go from years of practice. You hear her sigh against your ear as your bodies press, and when she pulls away, you find your feet a little unsteady. She must be getting heavier, or something. It's a feeling that's been getting worse.
“If a hug is all I'm getting, I'm calling it quits being your last-minute saviour."
“Greedy, are you? Do you want a thank you kiss on the cheek? Like your mom always gave you when you were five?"
You scrunch your nose, showing teeth. “Ew. Do not bring up my dark past."
“Your mom would be heartbroken if she heard you say that."
“Don't blackmail me," you frown.
“I'm not as evil as you."
A pause.
"Tomorrow we both have a day off. My place? Lego?"
“Of course you'd ask me to help you build Lego on your day off. That Hogwarts train, am I right?"
“So five pm? I'll let mom know you're staying for dinner."
You rest your hands on your hips. “Stop acting like I have a choice, will you? That's annoying."
“Okay," Minji nods immediately, “you don't have a choice then. Not anymore."
You squeeze your eyes shut, sighing. Zero-sum game.
To take you even further back, the strange thing is, Minji's never really bothered. You. You're not sure how, because it should have happened. But it hasn't. It's improbable.
Not when she splintered the first Gundam model you ever made in half, a ruined birthday present (you keep both haves on a display shelf), not when the two of you got caught cheating in a meaningless childhood exam. Not when the statement, ‘for all intents and purposes' became a life motto for you both to allow for occasional, shared, foolish risk.
The outside world puts it this way. The common explanation. Are you two dating? And the answer is no, but it feels worth it putting in the footnotes: You've just been there since the start, and she hasn't found a reason to replace you yet. In convenient terms, she's the excuse you have prepared when the boys are determining who's got game, who's cool and bagging them, and you're her bodyguard when the boys show up, which is common, for someone that's prim and proper and who looks like her.
It's her smiles you've gotten used to, the ones that seem almost too pretty, like she rehearsed to make sure her teeth don't show but letting her eyes give her away. They don't show often, in front of others, but in front of you they're more natural, since you're on the side where her fortress is less defended. The ones that has everyone getting mysterious knots in their stomachs, because there's always that idea that she seems more interested in you than she really is, like placebo where you think you mean more to her than you really do.
A snare. But you know that it's just her. You were then where she set it up.
Evidence, is what it is, when you head over after a quick shower, taking a seat on her bed while Minji drags a large plastic box over, starting to pull out unfinished chunks of Lego bricks.
“I'm still dead tired, you know," you yawn, pressing both hands into the soft mattress behind you. “Another Prof Jang lecture. I feel deceased."
“What'd she go through this time?"
“I don't know. Didn't bother. And it's weird, because her period is a standard snoozefest, but you wake up right after feeling more tired than before you entered. How does that work?"
“Regretting your decision, I see," Minji teases, eyes narrowed on figuring out which instruction manual is which.
“I'm still taking her over Prof Lee any day."
You close your eyes for a few moments, leaning back, like a few seconds of shut-eye will rejuvenate you. You shift in your spot.
“Are these new sheets? Because damn, are they soft."
As you say it, you let your body fall to the side, face landing in her mattress, breathing in her scent and all. Comfy. You should ask her for a recommendation. Minji looks up, staring at you for a few moments. And you don't normally do faux pas anymore, but you check just in case.
“Sorry, should I not be lying on your bed?"
Minji shakes her head slowly, mysterious smile on. “No, it's fine. You better not fall asleep, though. I didn't invite you just for you to not help me."
Your eyes fall over the rest of her room, something you're used to doing- checking for any new updates. Past the blue walls, the squishy study lamp, past the evidence of you. Picture frame of you two in Europe on a join family trip, your birthday letters to her jammed shut on her desktop drawer, the little Sumikko Gurashi stickers.
"Your idea was a big hit, by the way," Minji states, flipping open the correct instruction manual to the correct page, "The teachers loved it."
"Congrats, Minji," you say honestly.
"It wasn't all me. Credit where credit is due."
You slip off the bed, falling into a cross-legged position by Minji. She tosses you a bag of bricks, and you start helping her fish for the correct parts. "Thanks for that too, I guess, even if your thanks ain't worth nothing."
"Prick," Minji glares. You chortle, slowly handing her the pieces as her focus slowly moves on from you and to her work at hand. You watch her for a few minutes, with a slight smile you can't wipe off, pieces already prepared. You watch her for longer than you usually do, something new, the way she swipes intruding strands of hair back, tucking them behind her ear when they fall in front of her face.
And there, life starts to get more complicated. Branched. And it's not just about increasingly important grades and rapid maturity.
"You better focus," Minji murmurs, eyes not glancing over to greet yours, but a small smirk on hers all the same. You tell yourself it's just something you like, the way she smiles. Small, but enough.
"You better not fuck up," you reply, something foggy settling at the back of your mind.
***
"You better not fuck this up," Minji threatens, every syllable landing like a game of darts where you're the dart board. You narrow your eyes, mentally clocking how long it took for her to shatter the tense peace between you two.
"You're assuming I'm gonna fuck up. Me."
"Your track record is shit."
Absolutely no cushioning. Just everything to bait a reaction from you.
"This project matters as much as it does to me as it does to you. So I think you can lay off it."
"Does it? Does it really matter? Do you really care about the quality of work we're about to submit? Or are you going to call it a day halfway again, when you're too lazy to go any further?"
Your eyes simmer with unbridled rage. Whichever sadistic fuck decided to put the two of you together for this, you'll give them a piece of your mind.
"I'm not here to be your punching bag. I don't need to listen to your narratives."
"Then prove it. Prove me wrong, if you can."
You resist the primal urge to bare your teeth.
"Bathroom," you say tersely.
"Down the hall," Minji's eyes barely even shift, "Second door on the right. And don't come back until you're actually awake and alert."
You have half a mind to just up and out of there, watching Minji pull her laptop from her bag, turning it on like she wouldn't care if you did.
And your brain is so suffocated with anger that you don't process a thing. All the observable traits, the blues of the walls, the picture frames on her bedside drawer, the powerpuff toothbrush in the powerpuff cup in the bathroom. You turn on the tap like the sound alone can drown out what's going on in your head. For a couple moments, you close your eyes, shutting everything out, and you're back again, circa 2015, when you felt the exact same way.
"Sir, he did it."
You winced, because of course you can't count on Kim Minji. Or maybe it is possible, but you're just the damn exception. Because the truth is she hates your guts. And maybe chivalry should be dead, because apparently intent doesn't matter, just the fact that you swung first, and Minji being in every aspect of the worst moments of your life means she has the perfect case file to land you behind metaphorical bars.
So yeah, screw the fact that you heard what he was saying about her, what he intended to say next that you cut off with a well-thrown punch. All that matters is that victorious feeling you know she gets when she sees you towering over the boy, now bruised cheeks and split lip, and still you even try to plead with her, he deserved it, keep this down.
Instead she just backed off, watching you with stony, unfeeling eyes, like she didn't need you to explain to already know everything in your mind, because Kim Minji had long decided to take any possible opportunity to drive her knife deeper into your stomach.
You wonder if she felt vindicated, felt the satisfaction of sweet, sweet revenge every time she walked past the third-floor corridor, as she watched you be punished in the school courtyard, arms at a ninety-degree angle.
The obvious truth is that you can't expect anything to change from her. And you have to live with that.
You turn the tap off with more of a smack than anything else, breathing heavily, but focusing it all through your nose.
You don't have to understand her. You don't have to be friends. You don't need to know what you've apparently robbed from her since the day she was born, something to make her feel this way about you. You just have to tolerate, to hold on until it's all over. And if it doesn't end, then you'll just call it a doomed life and move on in the next one.
If you even feel like having a next one.
"You're excessive."
"You're lacking."
And that's how it is. Not lacking details. Just you. Your character. It's all your fault.
You'll never admit you throw the words back at her the exact same way.
-
"You need to learn to be concise. As a result of uncertain prospects and weather conditions, rice producers may be discouraged from increasing their production of rice since, in the event of unexpected events like sudden flash floods, crops may be lost and their productivity will be affected, threatening producers' return on investments. Producers would thus choose to be pessimistic and reduce their production, decreasing market supply. You're writing an evaluative essay, not a narrative story."
Minji snorts like fuck everything going in one ear and going out the other, because she's already roadblocked anything that comes out of your mouth from entering any part of her being.
"Rice producers will choose to decrease their production as a result of a pessimistic outlook on their return on investments arising from uncertain weather conditions. This would reduce market supply, shifting the AS curve to the left." You power on, slimming her words exponentially.
"You're missing context. There's no realistic scenario involved, which would get you flagged. You'd miss easy marks because of that."
"It's not about greedily baking your cake and eating it too. There's a word count. It's about grabbing as much as possible, with the least amount of effort."
"It's not greedy if it was intended to be doable."
"You're impossible."
"And you're nauseating."
The two of you glare at each other for a few moments, and by that you mean you try to burn two holes in her skull with imaginary Superman heat vision while she gives you that icy blank look where she pretends like you're not under her skin and dragging razors along her flesh.
"I'm done."
"Good, fuck off. Prove you're useless, as always."
"You don't have a single receptor for constructive criticism in your entire egoistic biological makeup."
"I just don't listen to the hoi polloi."
You snort, an exact mirror of the way she did just a minute ago. Anyone else looking down at the two of you would say she's rubbing off on you. And you'd crucify them.
"I hope you choke on verbose overdose."
"Since you're cutting all these words, why don't you cut your dick off while you're at it."
"Termagant."
"Parasite."
"Witch."
You grab your bag, and your things, leaving in a storm, but taking care not to slam her doors or leave her mark on the damn carpet, because god knows she'll find a way to file for your expulsion because of it.
There's a mental timer in your head, a developed thing. You keep the records, the personal bests. The event? How long before Kim Minji screws up another part of your life. And how does defending champion Minji do?
Three days. Three days.
You avoid her like the plague, which is a useless tactic you're not sure why you're still continuing to employ. The reality? She's in your head regardless, and forget about free real estate, because she's built a goddamn metropolis in the expanse of your mind. Just the slightest flash of her straight dark locks is enough to set you off in a frenzy.
No you don't hate her. She's just unbearably annoying, because she spent her whole damn life figuring out how to sink her teeth in, ever since the first time you remember her splattering on the floor when she was five. She's annoying. Nothing more.
(You hate her.)
And you keep revisiting it, in the time machine that is your head, at each and every damn possible moment. Every single moment the two of you have interacted. You can fail every single subject at school and have an eidetic memory when it comes to the history of you and her, and you don't know why. She might be a python, constricting, or a viper, fangs full of delirious venom.
The fact that you resent every single microsecond of those five minutes and forty four seconds, because some part of it actually gets to you, the fact that you're supposed to be younger. Sometimes when she gives you that condescending look, it gets to you. And you hate it. You hate it hate it hate it.
And, just to point out, the ridiculousness of it all? Celebrating birthdays together, a custom you were too young to stop, and the both of you suffering as a result of actions you couldn't control.
Yeah, mom. Logistically, it makes so much sense. Why book two separate locations when you can just share the price of one? Yeah, dad. The two of you practically live in the same social circle for all your lives, and who else can you blame for that?
There's this one fucked up picture, one you can't help but laugh at every time you see it in your family photobook or phone gallery (yeah, she owns a part of that too).
It's from your shared thirteenth birthday, the one where Minji wore a pink dress and had a matching party hat on. And it goes like this. The setting? Cake in the middle, not lit yet, soon, but right before. When they're arranging everything into the perfect shot. You're in the foreground, and Minji in the background, because it's this forty-five degree angle from the side of the table, not the front.
Minji's stoic, like all her servos got locked up from water damage. She sits exactly how she'll sit five years later, in class, but instead of paying attention her eyes are all dead and unfocused. Her parents comment that she looks uncharacteristically sad, and it's true, because her eyelids are all hanging low, pink on her skin like strawberry jam on undercooked pancakes, like it's offensive to her.
And then there's you, in some half-assed, crumpled white dress shirt and trousers, hair done up and styled like you're in the office. And just the way you have your head on your arm on the table, cheek tucked into your bicep, forearm propped straight up and thumb pressed straight in the center of your forehead, thumbnail leaving a mark like a bullet.
You look pissed, like you suddenly fast forwarded and aged fifty years, eyes closed in the literal done with life look. And it should be a fucking sign, for everyone there and then, present company, that something about this dynamic is clearly wrong. But the evaluation? It's cute.
Even though nothing about that day was. The endless way Minji did everything and anything to avoid speaking to you, the way you tried, emphasis on that word, to get her to cooperate with you on something or at least talk, but you were clearly communicating to a different species, because you get nothing from that tiny face of hers.
And you didn't even get into the part where you accidentally unwrapped one of her presents because of some unintentional logistical mix-up, and the look she gave you after could have wilted flowers in full bloom.
(You're pretty sure that limited edition Hot Wheels you lost right after the party is in her possession somewhere, some petty comeback. Occam's razor practically dictates it at this point.)
When you were three you thought she was just introverted. When you were five you suspected she just wasn't feeling it. Eight? Annoyed, sure, but it was only a day, and you thought things couldn't have been that deep. Fifteen? Sick of it, pleaded for a change in custom. Last year? You gave up.
The way you had to laugh and explain to your teacher that you were the last thing from Kim Minji's friend, and that the extensive catalogue you have of all the things you can't do regarding Kim Minji and the scenarios you can't recreate is in actuality a survival manual.
Oh yeah, you'll laugh. Laugh at the absurdity, the way things just can't possibly run this way. No loud music in the car on the way to school, no picking up her pencil when she drops it on the floor and it rolls next to your foot. No damned coffee, lest she spit it back in your face.
And at some point the two of you decided that you would go against every natural law and logical flow just to live lives as far apart from one another as possible. No sharing of friends, no acknowledging one another unless absolutely necessary, nothing.
Which segues perfectly into this next segment.
Love- war.
There is hardly a difference in the interactions between you and her. Which means that, of course, at this house party, Minji finds a perfect way to fuck up your night.
And it just doesn't seem possible. Because you're at the drinks table, seated and having a good time. You're not about the dancing, not about the bleeding eardrums or beer pong. But you are about the drinks. I mean, come on. Zero opportunity cost, besides a pounding headache in the morning. You don't need an economic term for that, because it's called a steal. So you savour the drinks with a stupid grin on your face, because this is what you're talking about.
And when someone approaches, a girl different from the rest of the crowd, you totally dig her vibe the moment she appears. For one, she's cute as heck. But, less colloquially, she hits this perfect in between of youth and lady, perfect transition of fun and coy, and immediately she's interesting. Slight air of mystery, small face. You're not sure how you've missed her in school, but you'll chalk it up to her probably having the complete opposite combination of subjects to you.
She's got a Minji vibe. But you know, in the conventionally attractive way. So not like Minji at all, because you hate Minji.
She catches sight of your laid-back form, sprawled out against your creaky plastic seat like you're halfway gone already, and it's like she can't even help the little giggle and toothy smile that bubbles out of her.
"You the bartender?" She says, hair perfectly straight. Gray, figure-hugging dress a terrific choice.
"Fuck no," you object immediately, finding the assumption absurd and funny, absurdly funny. "I'm the toilet they flush all the leftover drinks in before the parents come home."
And she laughs, laughs like she actually knows how to do it, not like a shrieking dolphin or a giggling duck.
"So you're the guy that scared away the bartender," She reasons, eyes scanning over the selection of drinks.
"I might have done that," you admit, even though you're pretty sure there wasn't a bartender in the first place.
"Any suggestions then, step-in-bartender?"
"Don't touch the Monkey Shoulder bare unless you hate yourself. And Double Black is always good."
The girl nods, reaching for one of the plastic cups, before motioning for the bottle mostly downed by you.
"Get it on the rocks, don't be shy."
She shovels a couple ice cubes from the ice bucket into her cup.
"You uh, got a name? Or should I call you… foreign languages elective?" You start, hoping to keep the most interesting person you've met today around for a little longer.
"Arts, actually. Would you even be able to remember my name by tomorrow?" The ends of her lips tug wryly.
"Oh trust me, I can hold my liquor. I'll remember you, which I guess makes it up to you to decide if that's good or bad."
Her eyes sparkle like you're speaking her language. She tilts her head quickly to a side, her hair doing this pretty little thing and shifting like a beaded curtain, eyes prominent even under her cute bangs. She gives you a smile that reaches her cheeks.
"Hanni. Hanni Pham."
"Hanni," you repeat, offering her a hand. "Cute name. Vietnamese?"
"Thank you. Yes, actually, how did you know?"
Wow, her hands are soft in the handshake. You almost get a slight thrill from it. "I'm good with names."
You give her your name quick, before she needs to open up her mouth to ask, and nothing in her body language suggests you've made a wrong step, so you decide to go for it. I mean, may as well do something productive with your evening, right?
"How's the drink?" You ask quick, like you're nervous for her review.
"Good. It's smooth."
"Score. My dad likes it. Learned to enjoy it from him."
"Your dad has good taste."
You smile, rising up from your seat. Hanni does this double take, eyes widening suddenly like she's caught off guard by you closing the distance, or that she's throwing away whatever previous perception she had of you and looking again, because yes, you're taller.
"Intimidating," she rushes out, off-script.
"Just stretching my legs. You have me worried about my self image, that I might be looking like a hobo sitting draped in a chair by the drinks like that."
Hanni chuckles into her drink. Fascinating. She makes laughing look… fun.
"How come I've never seen you around before? I swear I'd have remembered someone like you. What Arts elective?"
"Subtle," Hanni deflects, trying to trip you up, taking another sip from her drink so she can gauge your reaction without giving away hers.
"What's that?" You twitch your eyebrows, letting her know you know exactly what she means. That you're fully aware. Not even the cup is enough to cover her wide smile.
She's fun. Incredibly fun. Nails pressing into all these interesting spots, like she's toying with your skin in a way you didn't quite anticipate. Something novel. She almost seems too mature to be here.
"Well, if you must know, I'm in dance."
Bloody hell. And she's fit?
"Damn, you might be gifted, girl."
"I get that sometimes," she slides the rim of her cup against her lips playfully, or maybe it's her lips against the rim of the cup. Doing that thing all hot girls do, knowing that they're rainbow fish swimming temptingly out of reach.
Knowing that she's hooked you without even trying.
"So, are you gonna do a tarot reading now? Can I be privy to what you're up to?"
You grin. "Just checking if we're compatible."
Pink tinges her cheeks. So there's holes in her phalanx. "You're forward."
Your eyes dip for a minute, something less jestful. "It's not too much, is it? You should tell me, you know. Is it good or bad?"
Hanni watches you carefully, and you get the feeling she's doing some sort of personal evaluation, and for a moment you get something familiar, a sense of déjà vu. Curious.
Dump that away for later, because she says, coy as she's mastered all this while, "Good."
Heaven above, please say you're on a roll. For once, you're understanding. Why everyone digs the sweaty and dirty house party, the ones that involve ninety-percent bad acting and ten-percent get me the hell out of here. Where else are you going to get an experience like this? It's a gamble, letting it ride, on that off chance you get lucky- it's all about hope.
And someone better not take it all away.
Your brain is telling you you're in, that you're right, and of course, you could describe every little action and verbal spar, how each step is a tiptoe. But the concise version is this: Ear-splittingly loud music turns miraculously silent. You take one step closer, she does the same. Your smiles start to blend, doing that weird thing where it goes from being what you represent to a mix of taking what you learn from her, and vice versa.
And you think to yourself, you might be in danger. And if you know anything about being in danger, it's that someone is always there to drag you, kicking and screaming, to safety.
"Get the fuck away from her."
And now, you'll never say you've ever been by a tornado, hurricane, gale force wind, whatever the hell this foreign strength is. You know from watching all these combat movies, Creed, John Wick, Fight Club, even damn Ip Man- strike to kill, and all that.
At first, you think, ah crap, caught by the boyfriend, and you're about to pat yourself on the back for a nice try and then rub your own shoulder a little for the butthurt feelings you're gonna get.
But only one person could ever hate you this much.
So as you're wrenched away, your brain kind of already knows, and by the time you're stumbling to balance, you already recognise the voice.
"What the fuck- Minji?" Comes from Hanni, and for a moment, the floor spins, not enough to upend you, but enough to remind you that you're not fully sober.
"The hell-" You don't even have a half moment to fully form the expression before something swipes across your face, quick. And it's audible, and it wakes you up.
The slap doesn't hurt, because it never does at first. Your brain does that stutter where it prays no one heard it before your eyes confirm that they definitely did, then it goes hyperactive, and in every passing millisecond you process everything at once.
"Oh my god, Minji!"
Minji spins to face Hanni, face furious, like she's the last bastion of human decency, like she's been pushed to fight.
And nothing in your blood boils, for anger or embarrassment. There's only disappointment, because of course, time and time again.
"Stay away from him. He's not for you. Trust me."
"Minji, you just slapped him!"
"A slap is the least he deserves."
Your eyes dart between the two, mouth still not prompted to retort, hand not urged to rub away the settling sting. Because a part of you can't even be bothered with outrage.
"Minji, what the fuck? He hasn't done anything-"
"Yet, Hanns. He hasn't done anything yet."
And when Minji turns back to you, looking ready, defiant, it's in the way that you know her that you fix her with a look she's seen before.
And just like how the both of you know full well you're vulnerable to each others' own special brand of poison, you're able to register that it gets to her. For a moment, you bring the past that she's spent years concealing into the spotlight. The music that faded into nothing returns, noisy and unfocused, like your brain's suddenly jumbling up with too many things at once. It's only the flicker in her gaze that informs you she hears your next words, soft as they are.
"You don't own everything under the sun. Or every part of my life."
And Minji's chest rises and falls, like she's loading the bullet, even if she doesn't know exactly how to fire it. Like even she can't deduce the reason she sprung to action.
"Stay away from my friends. If there's one thing I know, it's that you haven't a thing that wasn't taken from another. And I'm not letting the things I care about get picked apart by vultures."
And when she meets your gaze, like really meets it, not doing that thing where her eyes stare straight ahead but are translucent, ghosts of where they should be, you know how it'll be written in the history books. The look, the connection. The electricity, heat. The way the two of you look at each other with meanings more than two people who simply know each other ever should. Like a million words said in a single moment of time.
And when the music turns to deafening noise, when Hanni fades into the background because she's been torn away so she doesn't really matter, you'll remember this as another incident.
You want to kill her- you want nothing more than to understand.
You're used to it- you're not.
***
"So, uh…," Minji starts, her feet just slightly off-step behind you, not perfectly synchronised.
Your head tilts to watch her, and for a moment your best friend looks different. A part of you knows there's logic. The both of you have to take the same way back, always. But another also recognises that she looked busier tonight, busy interacting with her friends, too busy to fall into step behind you so early into the night.
"What's up?"
"… Well- how'd you find Hanni?"
"Oh," you weren't expecting that, "She's great. Really nice. I wish I'd known earlier that she was one of your friends."
Minji nods in that way that makes it unclear if she's glad about that.
"Why'd you never tell me about her?"
Minji blinks, her response arriving a little late. "For one, I didn't think you'd ever run into her. And, for two, she's Danielle's friend. That's how I got to know her. Recently."
"And every time I think I know all there is to know about you," you start, turning back to the street ahead.
Behind you, Minji gives a smile that doesn't reach her eyes.
"Did she uh, give you her number?"
You laugh before the semantics properly register in your head. "I wish. We hit it off, but we didn't get that far."
There's a new instrument added to the evening soundtrack, the sound of Minji dragging her feet against the floor. Which she never does. You glance behind her, just a cursory check, and the way her eyes are trained on the floor gives you pause.
"Hey, you alright?"
Minji's eyes flutter, like she's doing that thing again where she flickers between what's real and what's just imagination.
"Ye- yeah. Of course. What is it?"
"Don't know. You just look like you had a bad time. Or just… not as good a time? Was your night bad?"
Minji shakes her head like she's shrugging off an accusation. "I had fun. Really. It was just… noisy. A little chaotic. Like you couldn't hear the sound of your own voice over the music when you tried to talk to someone, you know?"
"Like suddenly everything got deafening?"
"Yeah. Exactly like that."
Another couple beats of silence, where the two of you settle into that comfortable space of agreeing on the same sentiment. But then she cracks the peace again.
"You were drinking a lot."
A smile tugs at the corner of your lips. "I didn't know you were watching me so closely."
"I wasn't," comes the too-quick reply, "I just noticed, since you were practically attached to the drinks station."
"I always do that. And you know I can hold my liquor. Better than you ever can, at least."
"Yeah but-"
"But what? I drank the last of your favourite rum, or something?"
"I… it's- nevermind."
You pause in your tracks, and Minji comes to a sudden halt as well, eyes darting like she's got something to say. Or something to hide.
"You sure you're okay?" You raise an eyebrow at the girl behind you, looking strangely malleable in the black dress behind you. Like she'll bend and pool like amber if you just give her a nudge. Her silver, pearl earrings shine from a discordant ray of street light, and for a moment she really isn't there.
Till your eyes bring her back, that is.
Minji frowns like she doesn't understand her tune is all wrong.
"Why wouldn't I be? You're being weird."
"Me? You're the one that's completely off tonight. You sure you're feeling alright? You didn't wake up on the wrong side of the bed, did you?"
"… That's probably it. I don't know."
You cock your head. "Well, if that's the case, we better get back quick. You sound like you need rest."
"Yeah."
And Minji, ever flawless, you're fooled then into believing that she's really fine. That this isn't a turning page. That the perfect girl given everything would stay the way she's always been, pretty black dress, impervious and above. That her history book, every chapter you've seen written by hand, wouldn't catch alight in a library fire of parallel accidents. You believe that the two of you would never change- things would never be the same.
You don't even escape her when you're on a date.
First, you never had a chance. Minji's the person you know the best. You're pretty sure ever. There's a minute number of interactions that haven't been built off yours and hers. Second, life never gave you a chance to try otherwise. Your lives have been as linear as the flow of time.
And now that you've explained that, you can explain how Hanni asked for your number first, got it from Minji, and yes, you got the blessing of her best friend to bring her out to this mall for shopping and a meal.
"That's how she's always been. Clueless. Sometimes she hasn't the slightest on something everyone's long heard about. Like she's years late to the party."
"But she's so smart."
"Book-smart. Street-smart? Not so much."
"I guess that's fair," Hanni hums, sipping on her pink lemonade, amused. "And I guess that's where you come in."
"I think I signed a life pact to keep her alive till she found her betrothed when I was five. It might have been in blood, I can't recall."
Hanni giggles. With her gaze peeking through her lashes, she looks like she knows you better than you know yourself. Which seems like a weird thing for a first date.
That she's precognitive. Of the road.
"But enough about her. You should tell me more about yourself."
And Hanni gives you this playful squint, like, are you sure? But she tilts her head like she'll chance it once more.
"Well, what'd you like to know?"
"Anything. What's your life about? What should I know, or what do you want me to know about you? That's what we're supposed to do, right?"
Hanni tilts her head in the opposite direction, her softly framed bangs swaying prettily. "Well, I guess the most definite thing about me is that I'm chasing something."
You lean back in your seat. "That's… an arresting way to start."
Hanni laughs like she's self-conscious.
"But it's true. That's me. As of now, I'm less concerned about the permanence and more about the moments."
"Thrill-seeking."
"Happiness-seeking. I want the rush, the feelings, to fall hard- and fall without safety brakes."
"So it's about the vibe."
"That's one way to put it."
"And you're not looking to settle?"
Hanni tosses her gaze to outside the window, like she's about to leap into the world out there. "I'm too young to even consider settling. Things don't have to work out perfectly for the rest of time. I'm about creating those memories that stick for life. But that doesn't mean I'm aiming to be a fuckgirl, or whatever. I'm down to be there for the highs and lows. It's all about the experience for me."
"Fascinating," you say.
Hanni rolls her eyes playfully. "Don't science experiment me."
"It's not that," you shake your head quickly, "it's genuine."
And it's true, because having your entire timeline intertwined with another's, there's something honest about Hanni admitting that she might just be a moment.
"So you're risky."
"…Yeah."
"So you're taking a gamble on me."
Hanni shrugs innocently. "What kind of love isn't a gamble? Look- you couldn't tell me that half the considerations of a relationship aren't all the ways it could end. It's irrelevant."
And it's then you realise you should be asking the important question. "So what's your opinion on me? Crash and burn worth the effort? Or too mundane?"
Hanni tilts her head like she's had the response prepped for a while now, and simply hasn't brought it up because she's wary of the repercussions. "I think you're nice, like a guy that knows how much he actually needs to care, but that you're also avoiding an answer that's been incredibly obvious."
This gives you pause. "An answer? To what?"
"To who you're really meant for."
And it probably simultaneously proves everything she's said right the way your instincts give you the answer before she has to say it explicitly, the way your whole mind rejects the notion like it couldn't possibly be true.
"Not Minji-"
And immediately Hanni looks at you like you said the only thing you shouldn't. "I mean, I don't even have to say it."
"I don't see her that way," you shoot down immediately, something uncomfortable settling at the pit of your stomach. Where is everyone getting this idea from?
Hanni shakes her head, again, like she knows you better than you know yourself. Like she sees more from the outside. "Hey, look at it this way. What's Minji's favourite colour?"
"Blue," you reply almost instantly, having dealt with this conversation before, "but that's something anyone could easily figure out."
"What's her favourite ice cream flavour?"
"New York Cheesecake. From Baskin Robbins. She prefers her ice cream in a sandwich."
The words spill from you like a memorised script, like planted questions meeting prepared answers. And Hanni grins like she can't believe how easy you're making it, and how you're still denying it all.
"This literally doesn't mean a thing," you start, but Hanni just powers on like your indignation doesn't matter.
"What do you think of doing during your free time? If you had a day off, what's the first toy or video game you're reaching for? Don't think, just spit it out."
And the reply that comes out, like generative AI, it ends up doing exactly that. Making you think. Pausing the reply right before it bursts from between your pursed lips.
"Lego… which I guess came from her."
"So do you get it? What I mean. The two of you, being conjoined twins?"
"I've known her forever. Knowing her little details was an inevitability. But we're best friends."
"That's what you think."
"That's the truth."
Hanni shakes her head like she's assessing the gall of you to lie to her. "I dare you to say that again. In full seriousness."
You don't. So Hanni chooses to explain it all to you like you don't know any better.
"You've lived both your lives completely revolved around one another. No one knows her better than you, and vice versa. Which means she's already built into your every little habit. Just now, when I asked you for a recommendation for a drink, you offered me the one that Minji's reviewed and approved of. And you didn't even realise you were doing it. It's already too natural for you, and I don't blame you, but I'm telling you now that it's incredibly obvious to literally anyone a meter away. The two of you live in a timeline so intricately twisted it's impossible to unravel. I may not have known her for as long as you, but I'm a good enough friend to know her enough."
"I don't-"
"It's not about the way you think you see her. And I don't even blame you because it wouldn't even occur to you that anything was amiss. But no one's going to be able to invade the space she's already taken, or replace the person she already is. When we met last night, you completely switched up when Minji appeared. Like you had to be careful about how you were around her, and not me."
Hanni laughs at how ridiculous all of it actually is, the straw of her iced drink spinning in a hypnotic twirl. "It makes other envious, you know."
"I don't think that's enough to prove that we wouldn't work."
Hanni shakes her head instantly because you've got her intentions all wrong. "It's not just that. We'd be fun, sure, and I'd enjoy however long we'd last, but it's more than that. I might be chasing experiences, but I don't think you're the same. And sure, maybe you're just looking for fun, but at some point she'll get in the way. Comparisons, adjustments, it doesn't matter- the question is whether you're able to grow away from her in any capacity, and as of now I'm sincerely doubting that."
You're not sure if anyone's ever had the guts to put it to you this honestly. "The thing is, I don't think you even realise what's there. The way you run but only with her leading, the way you're her snail shell, knowing what she needs before she herself even gets it. I've heard about it, I've seen it. The only reason you're staying away is because you believe she deserves something even better still."
The reality of being honest to yourself is realising that you're not sure when your gaze changed. When you began to hold her eyes, longer than you used to, longer than you should. Long enough to feel the winds of change.
"Are you certain?" Your voice is a murmur, uncertain. Because admitting it is scary.
Hanni smiles like it'll all be okay, even if it's not. Like the both of you don't need to care about just how much heat close-quarters friction is creating.
Like the answers don't change.
And that's when Hanni grasps you, by the hands, clasping them in a way that, from afar, looks like romantic admittance. When the reality is that it's her letting you go. "In another world, I'd hold onto you tighter. In a way I feel like Minji's taught you well, and we'd maybe be perfectly compatible. But I feel like you have to ask yourself, why are you pretending like the need for choice? When the answer seems to be already there?"
And with Minji, it kind of goes like this. It's not definite. Not concrete. Not yet. It's just every little moment, in retrospect. That's what people think makes it obvious.
-
"Well I can tell you right now this is definitely the most boring 13th birthday you could possibly be having."
"Yeah, I mean, it's definitely the most low-key one we've had," you murmur, pausing for a moment to stretch on your bedroom floor, "but that's the point."
Beside you, Minji, eyes closed, close enough to hear each breath she takes in, like every second of youth trickling away from her doesn't matter in the slightest.
"Being a lazy bum for your birthday is a new one," Minji mutters, and you reply with this half-snort, like you gave up on your bodily reaction halfway because you were starting to get sleepy.
You remember it as a chill day. The day before your actual birthday, with the unavoidable celebrations from both families, but the two of you rewrote the rules of celebration the day before, just to understand what it'd feel like- the two of you existing without what everything else said the two of you were. And at a time where neither of you figured out what you were carving into the sandstone walls of your history, what the place in the world for either of you really meant. And a part of you wonders why that time, when things were simpler, stupider, it all feels so much more philosophical now.
"It feels simpler this way. Maybe not nicer, but quieter. Like the day actually has time to breathe, to let you really sink in and feel the year go by."
Minji remains motionless beside you, but you know she heard your remark. Her face is in that kind of tranquil state your older self would envy. Your hand ends up propped against the nook of your elbow, watching her gentle form with subtle anticipation and slight, childlike wonder. "What's going on in that head of yours?"
Back when you didn't have the inside of her head mapped out geographically. Her eyes slide open slowly. "Hmm?"
"Wha are you thinking about? You look… busy."
"Just… thinking. About stuff."
"Good stuff or bad stuff?"
"I don't know. It's just… stuff."
"What stuff?"
You're not subtle about it, and there isn't a need to.
"Just… birthdays."
"Huh?"
"You know, our birthdays. Like this one."
"Are you reviewing?" You laugh, then tease, "you're so cool for that."
The corner of Minji's lifts, just a little, but it's soon replaced by that look that's way above her age.
"I'm just thinking about how I feel." A wiser you might not have made your noise of confusion, would have just let her continue.
"I just feel… happy. Every year, it's all so fun, perfect, whatever's planned, I don't ask for more."
"But you're saying that like it's a bad thing," you say, and again, you're not sure, looking back at this now, stating the obvious helps here.
"It isn't," Minji frowns, like she herself doesn't know what she's talking about, "but something about it feels… wrong. Or maybe not wrong- just off. I don't know. It feels like it shouldn't be this way."
"You're thinking too much on your birthday," you stick your tongue out, irked by another one of these smart Minji moments.
Stretch marks.
"Boys," Minji sighs, and you know even with her eyes closed, she's rolling them. "Not a single one of them has a brain."
"That's sexist."
"After talking to boys like I have, it's not sexist anymore. It's fact."
Your mouth pops open in understanding. "Ah, so that's what's up today. Let me guess. It's-"
"Daeul," the both of you echo at the same time.
"Your number one supporter," you're cheeky about it.
"My worst nightmare," Minji affirms.
"He's dense. And really into you."
"He's annoying. Today he said he found my eyes mesmerising. Why don't they just give up?"
"Boys will be boys," you chortle, taking a moment to stretch as you do so. Minji groans like she's already done with it all. "That's what, the fourth attempt in three months?"
You throw her a smile meant to distract, or reassure her. "Come on. Not all of them will be like that."
Minji's eyes flutter open for a moment, but you're already pressing on with something important to say. "You've got to keep your eyes open. There'll be a boy that's gonna change Kim Minji's flawless thinking."
She scrunches her nose. "Not happening."
"It will. You're telling me you haven't met a boy you've liked, ever, in the whole thirteen years you've been on planet earth."
"I don't see them that way."
"And what way is that?"
"I don't know, in the way all the other girls are starting to describe? Like really liking a boy. Getting nervous around them because they make you feel something weird. I don't get that with any boy. And I guess that's why I only really have you, talk to you. Because you're different. And I like it better that way."
You turn your eyes back to the ceiling, a humorous giggle hanging on the edge of your lips, and you have no idea where it originated from.
"I wonder what Kim Minji's boyfriend will look like."
"Maybe like a girl," Minji replies, and you snap your head towards her direction.
"You did not just say that."
Minji snorts, like why would that not be a joke? And when the two of you sit in that comfortable silence again, for a moment you do wonder, just who exactly will be Minji's one?
"Birthdays and boys," Minji murmurs, like there needed to be a concluding statement for your little discussion.
"That's one way to remember your thirteenth."
"You're telling me," Minji smiles wryly.
"You sound sad about that. And I get it, you know. We're teens now."
"Yeah… that. We're getting older," Minji agrees, but then finds a way to suddenly look hopeful, "But, you know, there will be so many more birthdays with you."
"I swear they'll never end," you shake your head, "just you and me, celebrating together when we're sixty and creaky."
***
Knowing everything about how to not intrude in Kim Minji's life goes a little like this.
First, don't talk to her on the way to school. Don't even enter her field of vision. Especially when she has her AirPods on. That's her quiet moment. Second, when you are in school, there are a few additional rules you abide by. One, don't speak to her in the middle of lectures. Not even if there's a damned fire in the building. She'll let the world burn before she lets her grades get threatened. Next, don't make eye contact. Don't pretend to know her. Any news of you is bad news, and every moment your eyes meet, it's a challenge, so her name is taboo, and any interconnecting acquaintances should know better.
Don't help her when she falls. If there's a family function, you smile and nod, do that stupid thing- don't speak unless spoken to.
Whatever doesn't take that solitary life away from her.
If someone's looking for her, you direct. And more than a couple times it ends up sounding like code. "Two pm. She has a thirty minute break between lessons. She won't be in class. By the garden next to the lecture theatre, or by the third floor corridor overlooking the field. Don't bring her a drink, don't cut her train of thought. Call her by her name, but not too loudly. And speak to the point."
And lose that part about you being a directory.
Which makes it all the more difficult when Hanni manages to sneak under the watchful eyes of Minji, approach you in the real world to ask, why does she hate you? And when you tell her immediately, not the answer, but the reality that speaking to her face-to-face means risking getting flayed, even after a whole day you're not sure what exactly you're supposed to do with your illuminated phones screen and an unexpected number.
Isn't the answer that she just does? That she always has? Does it add anything to explain instead of accepting what simply is? Hanni said, just mentioning her name, and suddenly you're pale as a ghost. And the truth is of course it's impossible to explain, and at this point obsession and avoidance mean the same, just like simplifying and complicating, caring- ignoring.
And the part of you that still wonders, still clings onto the hope that things will change, that one day, inevitably, you will lead a life away from Kim Minji. And can you be sure that that's when you'll finally understand and be happy?
***
Knowing everything about how to mean everything to Kim Minji's life goes a little like this.
It's the lack of words. The synergy. The fact that in the breaks, when the two of you are together, you have candy, you have snacks, you're passing over food on your tray that's her favourite and taking away those she dislikes. The way you're able to cross names out of the list of people that could be with her.
First, keeping in tune with her hobbies, her likes. Her colours, her toys, what she decorates her space with. It's reaching out for the items on the shelf without really thinking, gifting them over like it's owed. Second, it's agreeing with her on activities and free time because spending that time with her is the only real thing that matters, and you haven't figured out a hobby more entertaining than that. It's gradually accepting that you do like her, that her features and mannerisms no longer steal smiles but also give you giddiness. The questions of whether you can see straight, whether it's clear, they don't matter.
It's seeing the same person you've seen over and over again, and realising you want something different, realising that she might be the only person that cares in her way, that she's kept every damned birthday letter you've sent since you learnt how to write. It's watching her lips and staring longer than you used to, reverting back to another one of those that just watch her like they don't know any better. It's disorienting how slow it is. How long it took you. She looks down to the floor and lets out a low giggle at your jokes, and you're not sure you're able to just let that go. You wonder if she's caught on to the signs.
And so the first time you kiss Minji, it's almost spontaneous. A bubbling cauldron of sorts, and Minji would tell you everything about that moment was perfect. It happens at prom, and again, there's a million details, who your dates are, what led up to it, the night, the boring drinks. How Hanni's there for a singular moment to give you a cheery wink.
All you really need to remember is this. Minji's killing it, again, with the perfect planning, watching everything run beneath her fingers, smiling like she's done her job well. And her, hair in a bun, gentle makeup softening everything about her, dress so white and nice it gets to your head. It's oriental, or something, the way she looks with her hair all in ropes and braids, the way her eyes move slower than the world around her. And somehow you've never even gotten a hint about it. She distorts it, the desperate way you're tugging her arm, the way she's tugged yours before, and you wonder if it's tight enough to hurt, the speed at which you're moving and the clatter of her unsteady heels against the floor.
But she doesn't complain, doesn't say much, not when you're pulling her along into an empty classroom, like she's already there and waiting. "You're hectic," Minji says, her voice soft in the lightless space, and a part of you wants to answer, can you blame me?
"I… yeah. Yeah, I guess I am."
"What's wrong with your night?"
"Nothing," you shake your head, pacing a couple steps while Minji rests her hips against an empty desk, watching you, "it's been amazing. You've prepped so hard for this, and it shows. Everything's so pretty."
Minji's eyes flutter for a moment. "Thanks."
"You look great too, by the way," you add, almost panicked. It's something that would usually make Minji smile, but this time she just tilts her head, holding her breath.
You pause in front of her. "What?"
"Nothing. You just seem… out of time."
You still. There isn't a need to play chess with her. "I guess I am."
"Well," Minji dips her head, "I'm waiting. For whatever you're going to tell me."
Your breath stutters, and it's like Minji knows that it's gonna seep into your fingers, because in the next moment she has you by the wrists, and your body freezes. "Take your time."
You blink. Breathe. Exhale.
And then Minji brings your wrists up, and by the time she's done, you realise you've never really grasped her features like this, fingers behind her ear, palm on her cheek.
"Better?" She breathes, the distance between you two nada.
And it's when you see past her voidless eyes that you know. "You knew."
"I'm scared," Minji corrects, "scared that I'm wrong."
"How long?"
Minji closes her eyes, reflexively leaning into your touch. "Does that matter? I can't tell you. Only the moments. You cancelling our hangout for the first time. Hanni telling me the two of you aren't happening. The way you avoided me the past week."
"I'm scared too," you say.
"Of what?"
"Same as you. Being wrong. Of how long it's been. Of not being right. Like I'm abandoning my post as a guardian for something selfish."
Minji stiffens, her eyes opening like she sees past you, can hold you and more with her hollow gaze.
"Then you're thinking too much, like I am. Length, duration, it shouldn't matter. Not to the two of us. So stop thinking."
And your fingers may be on her lips, but her words pull you to her.
And the first time you fuck Minji, well, it's something completely different. It's not preplanned but executed messily, it's not the two of you writing with stardust.
The only thing in common is the empty classroom.
It starts off soft, quiet, just a quiet hum of you, for once, steering the two of you forward. Doing life, planning the next steps of your shared futures, while Minji, exhausted from another long but last remaining day of being President Minji, tries her best not to doze off on your shoulder.
It's a cute thing, or whatever, knowing that she drools when her head is rested comfortably and that's probably when you're gonna have to wake her up. It's cute, definitely, the way you have her hand squeezed tight like the two of you can keep yourselves a secret.
The sun's beginning to dip, the classroom turning amber, and when Minji hums in slight discomfort as a ray of light shines against her eyes, for a moment you ponder if you're too lucky.
Was it natural? Yes. A progression. Just whatever was before, and added on a little deeper.
"Your head's gonna hit the table at this rate, Minji."
Minji blinks a couple times, rapidly, floating back down to earth. "Sorry! Just… tired."
She punctuates it with a yawn, and you smirk. "I can think of one way to wake you up."
You push past Minji's confused expression in the next instant, planting a quick but firm kiss to her lips.
Yeah, the two of you have started doing that a lot.
She tenses under your grip, loosens only when you pull away. Then Minji shuts her eyes like she's still fighting the vestiges of sleep.
"I can't lie, that just made me sleepier."
A shared giggle bubbles from your throats.
"I'm good," Minji says finally, pivoting the chin she has on your shoulder to look down at your notes. "How's it going?"
"Alright. Crossing out some of your options, based on what you do and don't like."
"Crossing out my options? Or yours?"
"Don't think there's much of a difference, is there?"
Minji puffs up a cheek. "Guess you're right."
Her eyes fall to the sundown outside. "Last day here."
"You sound sad," you say matter-of-factly, letting your pen rest on the table.
"I am, a little. This is it. Another chapter done. Wondering if I missed anything on my bucket list."
"There'll be time to finish it," you assure, and Minji meets your gaze with narrowed eyes.
"What?"
"And did you manage to finish your own bucket list?"
"Mostly," you saw, emboldened. "Pulled through with my studies, evolved my lifelong best friend into my girlfriend-"
"Evolved?" Minji interrupts, like she's processing your diction.
You shrug. "So, mostly."
"What are you missing?" Minji asks curiously, playing right into your sneaky hands.
One of which lands across her thigh, thumb peeking underneath the hem of her skirt.
And the speed at which Minji reddens makes you laugh.
"Are you crazy?" Minji exclaims, even though this definitely isn't the first time you're making this joke here.
It's not really a joke, though.
"You did ask."
"That's on your list? Plapp- making love?"
"With you. That's the important part."
"You're crazy!"
"I might be."
"In school?"
"Better than under your mom's nose."
Minji opens her mouth for a prepared retort, then pauses. "Why are you right about that."
"I'm a smartass, right," you jest further, the add, on a more serious note, "you don't detest the idea, right?"
You see Minji's jaw move like she's trying to make her peach cheeks vanish. "No. Perfectly honest- of course, eventually."
"Okay. As long as you're not uncomfortable."
Minji shakes her head. "Just wish I got more of a head's up."
"Relax, Minji. I'm just messing around," you turn it into the truth, "besides, this is already our last day. It's not gonna happen."
And like you said, you make the fabricated lie the truth, because biologically there's an answer, but you have to be ethical. Regardless of how your image of Minji has changed, how you see her as the woman everyone else is saying she is. The pretty one.
But Minji's suddenly stern expression gives you pause. She looks stony, which typically means she's either debating or arguing with someone.
"What's up?" You raise an eyebrow.
"Do you actually want to do it?"
You still. And then your heart beats out of rhythm. "Sorry?"
Minji flushes again, like she's trying to match you. "I'm being serious."
"Now?"
"It's the last day," Minji states objectively.
"We've never- aren't you tired?"
"Well, then maybe you could take the lead?"
Ah hell. You swear you intended it as a joke.
"You're serious?"
"I said that already."
The two of you hold each other's meek gazes for a few seconds more, then the both of you jump to your feet.
You slap your notebook shut. "This might be the nastiest thing President Minji has ever done."
Minji hugs her arms to her body like she's already been caught. "This is the nastiest thing I'll ever do. At least lock the doors, will you?"
You step towards the classroom door, static shock in every step. It was a joke, right? But when you turn the knobs, peep out the windows for a security check, turning back to her and you feel something weighing you back.
Because it's important. And when you see her, seated on your desk, legs kicking the air expectantly, her brown uniform and neat black skirt take on a different meaning. A useless one, maybe, when they pool on the floor.
"So uh, how do you want to do this?"
"You're asking me like I'm not equally as nervous as you about this," you reply.
"You asked for this!"
"It was a joke!"
"Uh huh, sure," Minji doesn't believe you at all. Her eyes dart over your form, your lips. "So… kissing? That's how they always start, right?"
You shift your feet, slowly edging closer. "Uh, yeah."
Maybe Minji's braver than you, reaching for your hands when you're within range, placing them in that comforting position she's gotten used to. It's not like the two of you haven't done something similar before.
"Remember," Minji murmurs in the space only the two of you occupy, hands warm on your wrists. "I'm doing this because I love you, okay? For mattering the most to me for so long. So let's not be scared."
"I love you too," you say.
And though your lips slot in the same way they always have, the way the two of you have done, countless times after the leap, it's still the same, breathtaking feeling, soft against soft.
And this time it's also so different. Because even with hands on each other's faces it's not enough to protect from the heat, the realisation that it's something more.
The way your lips leave a lasting smack against hers as they pull away for the first time, the intention in every moment clear.
Her coat comes off first, the easiest piece to remove. You listen to her breathing, steadily getting heavier, before you take her by the lips again, sending her slightly off-balance.
It's not the first time the two of you have made out. It's just the first time there won't be any clothes in the way.
You take your time, making the joke real, the joke that you love Minji, Minji is your girlfriend, and your dad will definitely be proud of you after this.
"The last time I've seen your skin like this, I think that was sports day," you say, as you gently unbutton her top like you're playing dress up and not dress down.
"Like this how?"
"Flushed, warm. Hot."
Minji bites her lower lip, overshirt falling past her shoulders to reveal navy on her skin. "You're an idiot."
"Heard that one before. Too many times."
"Then maybe I'll just stop talking," Minji replies, giving you a sharp shove back and pushing herself off the table all in the same turn, sinking to her knees.
"Oh."
Minji paws at your trousers, handling them with a skill that suggests to you that she might have rehearsed this in her head before.
"My god, you really don't have to do this." Just the sight of her sunken down and submitting with her doe eyes is already too much.
"Stop acting too nice. It's disingenuous," Minji hisses.
You chuckle at that.
"Besides, giving a blowjob would likely be on my bucket list."
"Really?" you perk an eyebrow, breath hitching when Minji tugs your boxers down to your ankles in one smooth motion.
"Yeah." Her eyes blink towards yours, hand gently holding your stiffness, grip getting stronger. Like she's accustoming.
"I really thought this would be impossible."
"Inevitable would have been a better choice."
"Inevitable?"
"Inevitably falling in love with me," Minji answers, before pressing her lips to the side of your shaft for the first time.
You shudder. Minji has her moments of conviction, her promises, her diligent promises, working into how she works your cock, lips and kisses, then mouth and slick.
It's her humming wetly as she bobs, a Kim Minji you're really seeing for the first time. And it feels right. Or inevitable, like she said. That your heart only ever belonged to one. And fate and time only ever allowed one direction.
She works you like she has a method. You will admit, it's hard to remember everything, because half the time your eyes are closed, and the other half is all about steadying your breathing.
You remember her fingers though, tracing, pressing gently, hips, balls, lower abs. It's like she's forgotten herself.
And when you force her off, dragging her inexperienced form up to your inexperienced arms and peeling indigo from her skin, it speaks to her the way she's not afraid to turn her back to you and be bare.
"I didn't think I'd ever see you like this."
"Neither did I. But we both need to stop thinking anyway."
You move in position behind her, till you're hot against her heat, and it's a flickering moment where she tells you once again all she needs to in three words, and you echo it obediently.
"I'll be gentle."
"Thank you."
And that's pushing in, slipping into a heat you won't forget, this timeline of the next. That's the most inevitable part of it all. That the filthiest moments is yours.
Your grip on her hip tightens, and just as she loosens, gives it up to you, you thrust, spilling moans like a river from her lips.
And you like her husk. The lower tones, the way she leaks cusses like she doesn't know how to say them, the way the both of you are unsteady against the table.
Clinging on by the rocking of your hips.
"You feel…"
Minji shakes her head like she can clear the heated fog in her mind. "My god, you feel…"
"You feel better," you reply between a grunt.
Did the two of you prepare for this? No. Something already laid the foundations, and the both of you are just gaining the confidence to walk it.
You press into her roughly at times. Not just being a nice guy, but being honest. And you know she gets that. That belonging isn't just light pecks.
You push her into various positions. From the table, the two of you go to the floor, to the chair. In between, you get the impossible softness of her tummy, pressing into the rough area you know you're lodged in to make her feel it more. She calls you big, calls you everything, calls you the cock that will break her, but she's probably already misled.
Her chest spills greedily between your fingers, and sweat sheens her body and falls to yours.
There aren't any interruptions. Just the moment between you and her, the consummation. Just her hollow, sucking you in so you can occupy her.
Till she's one leg on the side of your chair, stabilising herself, riding you with reckless abandon, brow furrowed with the struggle of pleasure.
Till she tightens impossibly around you, once, then twice. Till you need to carry her in your arms.
The sun dips, slowly giving in to night, and it's about then when time starts to disturb again.
The two of you fall into this complex cradle on the floor, you firing absentmindedly into her warmth, and with the two of you exhausted and barely awake, the next few words become indistinguishable.
"You're everything to me."
***
You're free. You're out. You're away from Kim Minji, way from her in your life. No more torturous bullshit. That's graduating, baby.
You let yourself believe that for half a moment before you snap back to reality.
Because you've played these little games with fate and time before, till instead of calling bullshit on them you bullshit your way to the right answer.
And it's a horrible validation to know that you're right. To stand there, in your well pressed suit and leather bag full of first day hopefuls, and run right into goddamn Kim Minji, dress shirt and knee-length skirt, white on black, looking like she managed to promote from the student council board right into the teacher's committee.
No, you didn't know where she was applying to. No, you didn't know what she wanted to do for her career. Because you didn't need to.
The two of you end up in the same company anyway.
And the two of you have copied, simultaneous reactions. Like clones in perfect sync it's hard to discern who's the original copy. The two of you just look deadbeat tired.
The two of you could go into that lengthy argument, the why are you here? Why again? Why always? But the new hires get squashed together, so you do your best not to tread on her toes. You match her caliber, and she tries to accept your stance. Because at this point it's needlessly draining.
You don't need to figure out who and why. You don't need a moment to process how incredibly bad it all is ("Wow, how fortuitous is that? Again?" Your mom exclaims when you spill it to her).
You get a comical text from Hanni, who you're still in contact with for some reason, telling you that she's heard about your predicament from Minji, and that she wishes the both of you utter chaos at the workplace.
You'd snort if it was funny.
But since it's now routine, the assignments just get heavier, and nothing else really changes. You do your parts, get the paperwork out, leave it on her desk during one of her meticulously scheduled work breaks (yeah, you've got her schedule down in about a week. This girl is one-note, you swear), and try to make it look like the accidental Mars Bars pinning the papers down are… well, accidental.
But the two of you would need to hack through the ropes, collaboratively, to prevent the rubs and scarring.
Praised? Together. Criticised? Together. Blaming's a thing that's played out in both your heads, because saying it and you may as well not.
And you know you don't really care in the times where you get a leg up, when your concision earns a reward. But you know it gets to her meticulous nature. And you hurt yourself by avoiding it.
She's a problem- she's a headache.
She's always there- she doesn't need to be.
She's fate- she's time catching up to you.
And you'll see her forever.
***
"The deal went through. I got it."
Minji's coffee freezes in her hand before it reaches her lips, a ghostly tremble echoing through her form, leaned up against your office.
"You- you said he asked for higher."
"He backtracked. Guess he was desperate. And that means we got it. A place."
Minji looks like she doesn't know whether to fall for the floor or jump for joy. Because that means another next step, higher up, to that dizzying, hypothermic height.
"So…"
"So are you ready to move in? With me?"
Minji laughs like it's dangerous. "I can't believe it. It finally happened. No more late night calls. No more saying goodbye at the office doors, with all the others staring."
"And no more motels," you whisper, soft enough for you to look bashful yet still loud enough for Minji to hear and roll her eyes.
"I'm packing my things tonight."
"I shall be waiting to receive. But I do need to get the keys, so don't be too gung-ho, alright?"
"Just let me know when."
What comes next is an unconcealable grin you carry throughout the day, because it feels fated and right. If Minji is your North Star, she's a star that's not ever going out. Your whole life was built to watch her. You mapped her body into your brain, etched her heart into yours. There's no stone unturned in the mindscape, island of her. The only thing missing, the only thing left, is the hallowed ring.
The only footnote is Seungwoo, an older colleague, one you've really known as the guy who got a second chance and bet with everything he had on it.
"Remember, sometimes taking the next step upwards can be a wrong decision."
You glance to your right, unsure if he's really talking to you in the middle of the meeting. But his flat eyes confirm it.
"Sorry?"
"Don't go too far up. It's a dream for a reason. The sky. But don't get greedy."
It's not financial advice he's giving you. That much is clear. It's not about a corporate ladder either. It's not about anything, really.
Because spotting fissures before the crack lines form requires magic.
And you're, in contextual terms, a squib.
Then again-
The house turns so quickly into a well-blended milkshake it's a masterclass in planning and lying and lying without planning to.
Blue, blue blue. Soft toys, plates and Tupperware, then your gaming monitor, your gadgets, 'man gear', your face in the pictures she's taking, the sheets you crumple up every night.
First day? Cleaning and desecration and cleaning. Hot and heat on every surface, your hands full of her ass or breasts at any moment, her bouncing like a fiend above you. Everything getting wiped down twice, just to make sure it's clean, right?
The best sleep of your life, because finally you have her warmth in your arms, because cuddling and handholding and waking up with her thighs around your head. It's like the two of you slip into the fields of elysium, the bed which the both of you have made to lie down in flat, hands crossed over your heart.
Years in seconds and time passes in moments. Promotions, dates and anniversaries, parents proud and all, and then every night, peace and contentment.
In dreams, there's a peaceful boat atop a peaceful sea. A canoe, in the ocean, and the little man, you, within it. A bright, starry night, and you're alone, watching the waves pass by in tranquil motion.
You press your knees to your chest, reach over the edge to glance a hand across the cool water. You're somehow at home, with the sea and the stars, resting without needing sleep. Contentment.
But when the horizon changes, and the first time you notice it, at first you don't really think much of it. Granted, it could just be your flame coming to meet you, but the consistent ebb of intensity gives you pause.
A squint and you see the pretty bubbles. Like an illusion. The froth.
There's no sugarcoating it. You get closer, and it becomes clearer. Rapids. Intense, a thrill ride, but the horizon tapers off, and horizons shouldn't be getting closer.
You recall that you have no oars, no paddle, no lifejacket. And there's no fighting the current, like a stream heading one direction and you the salmon jumping towards the other.
You head directly for the watery cliff.
Suddenly the water is icy. The movements choppy and erratic. The boat is a distressed horse, rearing back, creaking indignantly. You're alone. And you feel complacent.
Blue water turns white. The stars vanish, and suddenly the boat's leaking, smashing against invisible rocks, throwing you askew.
You throw your self out, flying overboard, and wake up in a puddle of your own sweat, in the bed you made, with a shuddering gasp.
Minji stirs immediately, distressed, her body shooting up.
"Hey! Oh my god, what happened?"
You steady your breathing, hands suspended by your side like you're still holding onto the edges of your little boat.
"Nightmare," you manage, wondering why it was all so vivid.
"You scared the life out of me. Jumping up and shouting, that was terrifying!"
"Sorry love, sorry…" you turn to her, trying to apologise, but she reads the distress in your eyes.
It's hard to make out her irises in the dark. But her arm lands across your shoulder, tugging you close, and for a moment all is well.
"Must have been terrifying. I'm sorry for whatever it was. But you're not alone, okay? Remember. I'm by your side."
Sometimes Minji's decisive. Confident. Saying things that must be true.
And when the two of you slip into that illness called contentment, that mundane, peaceful life where everything's figured out, everything's perfect. When you get your happy ending, because she's pulling you out of the water every time-
It's dark.
***
"Just give him a break once, Minji."
Minji closes her eyes, wondering if her thinking- is this the fiftieth time? -is hotter or cooler a guess.
"Not this again."
"You're strangling him, girl."
"He's constricting me."
Dani shakes her head, somehow in sync with the swirl of her wine glass.
"You'd get by easier if you weren't so fixated."
"He's hasn't deserved a modicum of my kindness."
"But at least he's trying! Come on, the Mars Bars? He's as tired of this as you are."
"Bribes," Minji states immediately, "I know how he operates."
"Your knowledge is based entirely on the profile you built of him twenty years ago!"
"It's built on every moment of those twenty years and more! You're saying I don't know him? When I've had every waking moment of my life shared with his?"
Dani struggles with the next words.
Hanni sets her drink down, slightly upcurved lip still a very present habit.
"You're giving up everything just to make sure it stays true."
"What?"
"To make sure you're right. Still."
Dani eyes Hanni warily, like she herself isn't convinced Minji is ready for this conversation.
"You're speaking in riddles."
"You're marginalising. Keeping him within the lines. And twisting anything he does."
"So I'm lying," Minji snipes immediately.
"You're lacking. In information. In clarity. You're not admitting it, and he doesn't even know why you hate him. Face it. He doesn't understand how he's pissing you off, and you're still expecting him to abide by rules he doesn't know you out in place?"
"He knows perfectly well what ticks me off."
"And you've never ever spoken to him to tell him exactly what those boundaries are because all you've been doing recently is avoiding and assuming."
"That's what you think."
"That's what stupid Mars Bars on your paperwork means, dumbass. You're reciting this story of his robbery for the sixty-seventh time. Or something like that."
"Wow. So the two of you are siding with him."
"I'm siding with whatever gets this decades old nonsense over and done with. Talk to him. Properly, for once, like adults; not the dolts the two of you were on the playground."
"No."
"Then live with it being unresolved."
***
"Mom's asking for a trip to Maldives this July. Ten days. She found the offer online."
You click your tongue, head still hung up on possible profits and potential calculations.
"We don't get handed leave like candy, Minji. And you know I have a project submission near that date. You know my team will collapse if I suddenly depart at such a critical juncture."
"I know that," Minji says quickly, almost angrily, "but you know how mom is. She's all about us and the great life we're living."
"The hard-earned life we're living. Come on, Minji. You know you need to convince her that we're unavailable."
"We've got to give in sometimes," Minji replies, crossing her arms. You glance up at her, her translucent eyes. You sigh.
"Minji, babe, these numbers are killing me. You know the killer migraine I get. Can we do this later, please?"
Minji bites her lower lip, a new habit of hers. "Fine. Is tonight still on, by the way?"
You close your eyes again, huffing and feeling your heart sink at the same time. Shit. You forgot.
"No. Fuck, Minji, I forgot. I agreed to an online meeting with Seolhyun. I'm sorry, fuck-"
Minji's form seems to flicker, like her legs wobbled. "I- I get it."
Your hands dig into your scalp, one with hair you swear is already whitening.
"I'm sorry, Minji, really. It's killing me too, right now."
"I know. It's killing all the time you have, just to keep up. You haven't even touched me the same since this new project's popped up."
You perk your head up. "Sorry?"
"It's true. You've been babysitting that monitor so hard you've reduced everything else, me, to a footnote."
"Is this about sex?" You ask, incredulous.
"No!" Minji snaps, "it's about you forgetting to be greedy! Why the hell are you living by the rules of work now?"
"Because that work's an assured path to happiness? There's no way you're blaming me for working hard right now."
"I am! I'm blaming you for dropping the ball on powering us forward especially when you know, perfectly well, that you live life's directions bounded next to me. We do everything together."
"And is this not pushing us forward, together?"
"This is roundabouting an excuse for you to push for a challenge of your own undertaking."
"You're calling me selfish?" you exclaim. You know she's mad, but why is she riling you up too?
"I'm saying this is a poor choice."
"Just because I haven't been fucking you?"
"Because things escalate!" Minji's eyes turn solid for once, like obsidian shields. It's an unsettling sight. "Because you're ascending in steps, and you don't see it! I'm losing the man I loved spending every moment with to some… corporate greed!"
"Not everything is perfect at every moment, Minji."
You sigh, rubbing your temple, equations and economics already forgotten, which is an added headache for you later. "Sometimes we get tested, and sometimes things are bad. But you're still the person I care about the most. The past is all there, unchangeable. It's just a difficult blip. That's all."
"A blip that's lasted long enough I've already forgotten what being treated perfectly feels like," Minji states, and it stings.
Love and it's fractals. And the sharp shards.
And maybe the two of you have never needed to address a conflict, because that's knowing better. So maybe that's why this is double a challenge now, because it's bridging. It's inevitably similar, and similarly inevitable. A mess.
It boils over May seventh. And you already know it's bad, because the both of you are working overtime. On that day of all days.
And you've seen this Minji before, because you've seen just about every damn Minji before. The stressed by work, hunched over Kim Minji, punching into her keyboard with three fingers on each hand. It's like she's five again, stressing over an exam without really knowing why it matters, or how much it does. And you finish first. And you feel bad. Because you relate to it.
So you try.
"Minji," you call, and when she turns, facial muscles too tired to even manage a frown, still biting her lip anxiously, you stutter for a moment. She looks weak.
"I'm done for the day. The trash is cleared, and I returned the excess keys. Just… remember to lock up this room and you're done."
Minji moves her lips slowly, jaw moving in slow motion as her mouth forces a tepid line. And even still you say it.
"Happy birthday."
And it gets to her. Gets to her in the way every year has, the way every emotion she's bottled up against you for life flashes all at once, the way she forgets anything about whatever she's working on, even as you turn back to leave.
"Stop that."
You pause. Mistake?
"Stop doing that thing where you act like you're not to blame. That surface level thing."
You still. Do either of you have the energy to do this, again? "Minji?"
"Your stupid Mars Bars bribes. Your little favours. You think I don't see you trying to clear your record, but I do. And it's unbearably annoying. So stop it."
You sigh. This is a loop. And it's still as ever, aggravating. "I don't want or need to hear this."
"Because you know how easy it is for me to peel back your scab of lies."
"No, because I don't want to give a damn about your perpetual beef with me on a day like this. And I'd like to give you the freedom to walk away with your head empty for once!"
"You haven't given me anything!" Minji's fingers curl into the keyboard, scratching across the keys like coils in a spring tensing up. "When have you given? All you've done is take."
"Take? Take like I've taken your abuse, your anger and hate, every single moment of your inexplicable antagonism?"
"Inexplicable-"
"Is that not what it is? Why, Minji? Aren't you just as sick and tired of this as I am? Why are we still keeping up this… charade, this mutual poisoning, this ramming into each other's guts till we're spitting our crimson blood? Why?"
"Because you're robbed every single moment of my life by inserting yourself in it! Every instant, every damned time and moment, you're in it! That's us, right? Growing up together? I can't fucking get away from you, and I don't have a definition that doesn't stem from your broad brushstrokes! Have you ever given me a moment in time that's properly mine?"
"So you're just being selfish?"
"Selfish? When I'm the one being robbed?"
"Robbed by something you can't control? Something that's out of both our hands? Is it fucked up, yes, but you're pinning the blame on me? When, in the same vein, I've had every solitary moment robbed away by you as well?"
Minji stills.
"Every moment you think I've robbed from you, you've also robbed from me. Every second you wish you had, I never had either. And is that my fault? Every single thing you've blamed on me. And yeah, I get it, we're both test subjects for some sick twisted hands of fate, but I'm tired of fighting over it. And I'm sorry. I'm sorry I couldn't be a better person in your life, sorry for every moment, at the playground, in school, at work that I've been in your head. And sorry I don't consider it a problem anymore."
And maybe that's when Minji realises there isn't an end to revenge. When you're already grabbing your things and leaving. It's not about maturity. It's about understanding. Understanding that some things were always meant to be.
And some things never so.
It's about knowing someone so well you grow to live with them a part of you, and knowing how to hold them so tight releasing them is gentle.
It's constants.
***
"I'm moving out."
You don't deliver it with any preamble, any buildup. You just show up in the master bedroom and say it. And Minji looks up from the spot tucked under the bedsheets like she was prepared for the news from the beginning. "Boss wants me to move. To the states. To help develop the new branch."
You're not sure when the two of you agreed, just that you know the didn't of you didn't need to. It goes without saying, without thinking, without needing words connecting like a bridge.
The both of you know it's over. Which doesn't make it any less blisteringly painful.
"And me? I've become a non-factor, haven't I?"
And the soreness in your throat isn't one you can scratch. It's the most challenging thing in your entire life, because for once you're saying you want to be alone, and that's terrifying. Because you're going to take a pair of scissors and undo every ribbon.
"Minji…"
"I know," Minji states, her nose twitching like she let out a sniffle, "I know, but it doesn't make me hate your guts any less."
"I wish I could think of another way."
Minji shakes her head like you told her a lie. "It doesn't matter. Because both of us have parts that are in agreement. It just… hurts. I thought I meant more to you. Like how you are my everything."
You think you should cry, so you nearly do. But Minji tells you no. "Don't cry. You chose this. To step away. And I don't blame you."
Because at the end of the day, the both of you believe in something better- something the two of you don't yet have.
That's the problem with being perfect pieces. The foolish yearning for anything but. The need to be proven wrong and maybe crash back together again. You remember the teacher's comment, from an age you don't remember. It's weird. They don't argue. Ever.
And maybe that's unhealthy. Or maybe you're wrong.
"I still love you so much," you say, because you need to put a wisp out, weight of the world on your shoulders, "and I'm so, so scared. Scared I'm making the wrong choice."
"I'm terrified," Minji agrees, her eyes dimmer than they've ever been, phasing. "Maybe it's time we both tried something we didn't know. Just like falling in love the first time. Just stop thinking."
Your breathing stills, because you have to let something die to get through tonight.
"It's hard," you say, your voice croaky, red and broken. An impossible choice.
"Just let it happen," Minji dips her head, and her next sound makes her sniffles real and non-imaginary.
"Will we still… collide?" Your question is a final hopeful plea. Bargaining. And Minji knows that.
"If time permits."
And that'll have to be enough. No more Minji. Finally. Your feet mean to move.
"You're unreal, Minji. Don't ever forget that. If this is the end, let's smile and move on. Because time may erase but our hearts will remember."
"My dad told me to move on, you know," Minji adds suddenly, a wet spot forming on the blanket below her head, like every fated moment falling back to nothingness. "I told him about us. And he said that sometimes that's just how the road winds. That I should do what I feel is right and give you up. And cherish whatever it was, even though all the time- our whole lives- means nought without either of us."
The next words come from a place within Minji that's new, because you've never, ever, seen it before. And maybe you never will again.
"And I thought, yeah, we spent all our lives together, now we have to grow apart, and that's so fucking terrifying. I don't know if I know how to love someone that isn't you, don't know if I'll ever be happy again, but something keeps telling me that is together is wrong, that we were only together to finally be apart. A splinter. And our broken hearts. How long are we going to hurt?"
"I don't know what next means."
Your feet clatter against the cobblestone in disorganised fashion. It's not the last time. There's still logistics. But the end is nigh. And the two of you agreed.
Your eyes fall to the car in front of you, the black sedan you used to drive the two of you to work with every single day.
And the raven-head waiting next to it in a black dress.
"Done?" Hanni says softly, like she knows raising her voice would pop the bubble you're in, the one with the ghost of Minji on your soul.
"Yeah."
"What'd she say?"
"That I- that we were right."
Hanni shifts her feet. "I'm sorry it turned out this way."
You shake your head. "I'll cry like a bitch later. Thanks for coming. I… didn't think you would."
"Why? Cause I'm not the sappy type?"
"No, because you're a chaser, remember? Of the fleeting moments?"
Hanni pulls at her interlocked fingers. "That was the old me, yeah."
You raise an eyebrow. "Times change. People change. I've had my experiences. Now it's time for something longer, more permanent. People don't fit into boxes for long without trying to get out of one."
"Wise words."
Hanni gives a wry smile. "Do you need a hug?"
It takes you a second. "Just the one."
You move first. And it's warm enough.
"Hey," Hanni whispers, her arms tight around your neck like she knows better than you do. "When you're ready, step into the car, and we'll go, okay? If you need one last word, I'll wait too."
"I'm just scared of her being alone. I have you now, but who does she have? What if she doesn't have another person by her side ever again? What if-"
"Then you need to know that it's respectfully none of your business anymore. Or your jurisdiction. And that you can trust in her."
Hanni unlatches from you, a soft, almost flirty smile on her face.
"If you're ready to roll, I am too."
"Just go?"
"Just go. Maybe you'll be wrong, maybe you'll come back to her. Who can say for sure? But that's the beauty of it right? That's why we don't know everything. Because where's the love in that?"
***
The Mars bar lands on her table like a warning sign. Minji looks up, irritated at first, like it's the past, but she sees that it's you and her expression smoothens.
"Hi," Minji starts formally, the tone all wack. "What is it?"
"Finished the report. It'll land in your inbox in a few minutes. If all is good with you, we can submit it. I… tailored it slightly to your expectations."
Minji nods, slow at first, then more rapidly, her eyes falling back to her screen, hands on her lap. "Got it."
You nod, mouth struggling to form a natural smile, because you're not sure you're willing to bet and risk that. But she cuts you off at your turn anyway.
"Hey."
"Uh- yeah?"
"You have a meeting till seven, correct?"
You blink, letting your eyes fall to her, still confined within her chair. Huh.
"You would know," you say simply.
Minji tilts her head like she gets it too. "I need to speak with you- um, can I speak with you? Five minutes? After?"
"Non-work related?" You guess.
"Non-work related."
You nod. "Sure. See you in a bit."
You run through the likely options at lunch. Option A. She's gonna chew you out. Again. She's prepared some secret weapon, or something, and she's about to deploy it with lethal prejudice. Option B. She's going to give you a Snickers bar. Option C. You're fuc-
Minji sets her tray down in front of you with a loud clatter, drawing the chair and seating with a lot more noise and haphazard actions than necessary. More than needed for someone like her.
Your jaw goes still. You know how it looks. Because that never happens, and everyone knows that never happens. It's like, defying fate. Or the natural flow of time. And she looks like she's having a hard time as well, what with the flush on her face.
"Uh, hello."
"Hi."
"Uh, good to… see you?" You try, brain empty of any ability to process what's happening.
"I uh- you uh, don't mind, right?"
"N-no. Feel free." You spot at least four empty tables in your field of vision.
"Thanks."
The two of you eat in hushed silence, and you swear this is the slowest you've ever eaten a burger in your life, slow enough for you to get a rough slap by any fast food owner with self-esteem.
Minji shovels dwaenjjang jiggae like she's drinking mud. Then she just starts speaking, randomly.
"You uh, remember our seventh birthday?"
Your brain takes a moment to start playing the tape in your mind. "The one where you wanted blue forget-me-nots on your blue cake, so your mom dressed you up as a blue flower and my mom put a blue overshirt on me and called me the great flower farmer?"
Minji winces like she wasn't asking for details. "Yeah, that one."
"I remember it."
"Okay, well, did you like it? Or enjoy it?"
You chew slowly. "You want the honest answer?"
"Yes."
You shift in your seat, getting more comfortable. "I hated it."
Minji flinches.
"I hated it because it didn't feel right. Like two people wanted different things and we came to a compromise without a common understanding. Like trying to do too much and fucking it up. Which is exactly what our parents did, by the way."
Minji's lip curls upwards, like you're onto something.
"And because I could tell you didn't want it like this, and neither did I. So on both fronts, everything failed."
Minji stares, her eyes hollow, but not empty.
"Okay. Thanks."
You nod, and immediately Minji stands up, clearing her plate.
"See you in a bit," she says.
You're nearly two feet in the grave by the time the day ends. And you haven't even addressed Minji's ominous talk yet. Which you nearly forgot about.
Which has you backtracking and pausing by your desk. You glance around. Just you two, again. Like the other time you argued and shut her up and left.
You wince internally. Let you be wrong; just once. Defy the odds.
"Uh, Minji?" You call out, approaching her desk, where she's watching something on her phone.
"Hmm? Oh- right," She closes her phone quickly, setting it on her desk. You wait.
"I have something to say."
"Yeah, you do."
Minji stiffens, like she just realised she's being an idiot. Which is weird, because you're pretty sure Minji would never let herself look like that in front of you. And when she reaches over on her desk to toss a blue wrapper Snickers bar over, you catch it with the kind of atheistic disbelief that should be impossible to change.
"I… prefer those."
You nod dumbly. Then glance up at her like you know there's more.
"I… wanted to apologise."
So fuck the odds then.
"Sorry?" You stammer.
"I want to say sorry," Minji phrases carefully, enunciating each word, "for blaming you."
Fuck the odds.
"I realised that I don't hate you- I just hated not being okay with it. And no one says that I have to be okay with it, but I turned you into my reason and output because you were always hopelessly available. And… that was wrong."
"You don't have to apologise," you interrupt, floor suddenly unstable, "you just rationalised it in your own way."
"At your expense. And that's wrong, no matter how you twist it. And as a person that knows you so well, having spent every moment of my life trying to evade you, I should have done better."
"Uh," you sputter, before your brain combusts, "okay, apology accepted. You really didn't need to-"
"You don't like my apology?"
"No! -I mean, I do appreciate it, a lot. It means a lot. It's just you know… a... a lot? Unexpected."
Minji nods, bowing her head deeply. "I'm sorry. Really. I… was selfish, for a very long time."
She's wrong. Or at most, only half-right. "I was selfish too. I did exactly what you did, let what we believed when we first started continue, even when it was wrong. We didn't challenge it. And it's we. I treated you awfully at times as well. So I should apologise as well."
"Apology accepted," Minji says, flashing you the first genuine smile you've ever seen. The first you can remember. Then Minji pinches her nape.
"Can't believe it took nearly three decades for us to stop murdering each other," Minji murmurs, low enough to think you can't hear.
You laugh nervously. "Yeah, crazy."
Minji blushes. You turn your head, eyeing your desk and office bag like it contains a ticket out of here.
"So uh," you mean to move along to the conclusion, "we all good now?"
You see Minji forcefully expel the tension in her shoulders from her body. "Yeah, we good."
"Great. Anything else?"
Minji's eyebrows knit together for a short moment, her lips parting with something unsaid.
"What is it?" You urge.
"Just… I feel like this is the part where we reconcile and start sharing something about the both of us, like our perspectives, but.."
"We already know everything about each other?"
"-yeah."
"Yeah, we kind of don't need to get into that. We don't need to revisit how you don't drink coffee, don't like being disturbed in class, prefer your kimbap with ham when I prefer mine with cheese-"
"You remember all of that?" Minji interjects, shell-shocked.
"Like you don't remember stupid things about me?"
Minji thinks for a while, and then it comes out of her in droves.
"You hate arrogance. The kind where people think no one can know better about a certain thing than themselves. The kind that pushes you to follow when you already know better."
"Green is your favourite colour."
"You beat up that boy because of what he said about me, something nasty, and I still reported it to the teacher because I wondered if I could dig past your skin. That was my fault too. You always looked so… unbothered, like you didn't feel whatever I was feeling, didn't care to yell at me about all the things I made unavoidable. I wanted to get to you just once. But you never let me. You just let it past, again, even though I didn't understand like you did that you were never the real target of my afflictions."
Wow. There's something warm about the way she's saying it all.
"Yeah, that's me. And that's us."
"Enemies, no, nemesis," she replies.
"But not anymore?" You ask hopefully.
Minji's eyes soften, real in their dark pools, but in another moment she's doing more than just processing your request. She's… reconstructing.
And then she forces you into the same action, down the same road, the same trip. And it's only because you've hated every fiber of her being that you're guessing at all.
"Are you… replaying us?"
Minji bites her lip. "Replaying whatever I knew. And adding what I missed. You did things sometimes… things I didn't know the reasons behind, so I filed away under bribery and favours."
Like the Mars Bars? "I tried making things easier. For both of us. To avoid us meeting and creating any accidental friction."
"I'm seeing that. I did that sometimes too. Just to make a couple days clear."
And now that you're reliving too, you see what she sees. The actions that had different motives but were action's nonetheless. All the effects.
"I see that now too."
"It's crazy," Minji admits, but almost like she didn't mean to. "It's like reading two separate narratives but the same plot, like getting the correct colour filter for the image that was originally out of place."
She isn't wrong, and she never was.
Minji rises her seat, fixating you with this foreign yet eerily familiar look. Like she's holding you within the hollows of her surreal eyes.
"I want to try something, and it's going to be crazy."
Crazy with Minji? Oh dear. "If this goes horribly wrong, we can never speak of this again. But… I just feel like I was meant to do this once."
She crosses the space with every step, coming to meet you in the middle for the first time ever. And it's like it was meant to be.
Your breath catches, and that's before Minji reaches for your features, her fingers brushing, unabashedly, across your lips and cheek, and behind your ear.
"You look different. Familiar," she remarks, and you're not sure what exactly she's saying, but she's right somehow.
She tugs you in for a closer look, and you feel her exhales across your face. She's inspecting… something. Maybe an identity check for if you're still the same guy she's drawn swords against her whole life. And when the signal is all jumbled dumb and confusing, you do the stupidest action you were always meant to do.
You kiss her.
Quick. Enough for you to jump back like it's a sting, like you're on the receiving end and not the deliverer. Minji's eyes widen, and though she tries to move back, the both of you find yourselves unable to untangle from each other.
And then Minji's eyes redden. "Fuck."
And then she's on you again. Lips to lips, and you don't need the lies and rules anymore. Because she's really kissing you for real, kissing you like she's been building up to this moment her whole life.
And maybe you have too. When she pulls away, the tears are rivulets down her cheeks.
"Fuck," she curses like it was all a mistake, "I was wrong. I was so, so wrong. All this time-"
You cut her off by seizing her by the fingers, squeezing till you've got her.
"Don't apologise. Don't cry. Don't think."
And because she heeds you, because the door is open, she slips with you into the night.
Explicitly, you realise the answer on the drive back is this.
Every thought you had of growing away from her made you understand her more. The answer isn't just a game by Ender, isn't that understanding everything about your enemy makes you love them. It’s not about whether this is right or wrong, if it makes sense or if it doesn’t. It’s the risk of something novel, something maybe the two of you could never have escaped.
It's also the admittance that the two of you are a perfect fit because of all the differences the two of you have had. That there's a whole unexplored route ahead of you, and you don't have a map, a compass, or anything to navigate it. That there's a ground zero and infinite possibilities.
Taking her, on a whim, on top of a pyramid, a precipice of dangerous accidents and lethal misunderstandings, it's an impossible experience.
Crashing through your apartment, kissing her like you're making up for a lifetime of nonexistent kisses and arbitrary nonsense, getting your hands into her nape, onto her skin, undoing her office shirt-
None of it should feel familiar. But it fucking does. Like you were always going to or always have been doing it in some other timeline.
You mark her like you've done it before, biting on her dusky nipples and supple breasts like you're not owning them for the first time today. You draw moans the are not novel rewards but refreshed objectives.
It's not a game. It's just you, and her, and you working your fingers under her skirt, overwhelming her with too much too fast, and her reply is that she doesn't know if it's a bad thing.
That's not knowing. It's peeling off her panties, seeing her soaked cunt, pressing your tongue up against it-
"Oh my fucking god!"
You press her hips down, and you wonder if Minji knows where she even is. You feel like you've kidnapped her and bound her in your room.
"Oh my god, eat that pussy!"
You double down, carving a path, through her flesh, into a heart. By the time she's breaking and sobbing, hips bucking in slow powerful waves, you're already lost. Too far down the hole, too far along the road to turn back.
There was never turning back.
Her hands to your shaft, voice still spilling never before heard cusses and body's slick with a slight sheen. She pulls you forward, and as you collapse over her like all first times should, you're in her like you've been all along.
Your hips buck, rippling against her thighs, cock spearing into her depths. Minji arches her back and shrieks.
"Fuck!"
"Minji-"
"Oh my- oh my god!"
You hold her by the wrists, the shoulders, anything to not drive her insane. Her pussy is tight and warm and something reserved, special. And you're writing everything wrong by pushing back into her, making her cum, claiming a girl that history says was never meant to be yours.
Her hips meet against you're, and you have to gasp, suddenly uncomfortable, out of place. Her brow- tightly-knitted, her mouth hanging open, low tone slightly husky.
She looks real, bare. Perfect mounds, lean body. Not extreme, just right.
"I didn't know you were gonna fuck me like this."
You don't think you're supposed to, either. Her legs this long, this sculpted, and her face, just so unbelievably pretty. You were used to it before but you aren't anymore, especially when it's contorted in the throes of passion.
Illegal and filthy? Probably. Future-rewiring? Definitely. But your lips are on hers, and she's fucking you with all she's got, so when you roll her over, onto you, and you see the rivers of sweat racing down her right tummy, abs and navel, you go giddy.
You once remember someone calling Minji a goddess when you were sixteen. You wonder if that guy had any inkling what a view like this is. Hair, wet with sweat, sticking to her shoulders, to the chest, nipples hard and aching, and your full length bolted to the base, within her, wrapped securely. You remember her relentless insistence when you were five, always fighting to admit that she could stand like you did regardless of who shoved you down on the playground.
You remember hearing her dreams through a proxy, the overlapping hushed conversation when you were fourteen, the ones you filed away but made sure to never tread on. Not because you wanted to lie down and let her walk over you, but just in the hopes that the two of you could have space to breathe separately. When the two of you didn't think of trying to breathe in sync.
Your hands slide to her ass, squeezing, and she throws her hips down harder.
"You're doing it inside. I don't care. It's been waiting long enough. So pump my cunt full of cum and breed me."
The pleasure that shoots through you is enough for you to grind your teeth to dust. Minji loses herself over you, collapsing in an orgasmic mess, and it's only a half dozen more thrusts before you're crying out in that same space, the evidence all in the sticky white that's coating her insides and staining everything else.
A cannon. That's what you are. A glass one. A crazy one. You shudder and wrap her in your arms and tilt her to the side, till the two of you are trembling; but together.
"I-"
"Shhh."
Morning is a splintered path in an unknown direction.
Minji, still looking disoriented, her tan skin soft as liquid draped over you. Awake, not moving from your heat, just wondering what's the truth next.
She looks like she's about to cry again.
"I'm scared, you know? We missed all our lives together, I don't ever want to see us apart. And we might have gone crazy last night, but what if we're finally right after being wrong for so long?"
But really, were the two of you ever wrong? Was anything holding the two of you back from admitting it, besides Minji misunderstanding what was cause and who was effect, and the two of you perhaps not knowing that the two of you were always going to fall this way?
"Then let's stop believing that we need to know. I know everything about you, always have. And enough to now know I love you because I understand everything now. Every little thing I did wrong. And I'm going to make up for every wrong I did. Every moment we shared last night that didn't yet feel deserved. And create something perfect."
***
It doesn't matter if it's separate or together. What's written on your hearts, what actually means, that's what's important. That's growing up. You'll hold her hand now, and you will forever in memories. The heart doesn't forget easily.
You loved her- you do now.
A/N: If it wasn't clear from reading this, this was rushed. This fic is more idea than something concrete, more concept than love story. And I think I'm slowly accepting what it's become, enough to post it. And I hope I get better.
The flashing cameras are replaced by the dim glow of hotel suite lights. The wind and the warm flow of the event are replaced by the heavy scent of sweat and sex. The room is a mess. Discarded clothes in piles on the floor, shoes scattered, the massive bed stripped to just the fitted sheet that’s already soaked in places.
Eunha is in the center, face down and ass up, her sheer black top bunched around her waist like useless fabric. One guy kneels behind her, gripping her narrow hips, slamming into her pussy with wet, rhythmic slaps that echo off the walls. Her skirt is flipped up, the short pleats framing her ass as it jiggles with every thrust. Another man kneels in front of her face, feeding his cock into her open mouth. She takes it eagerly, cheeks hollowing, drool running down her chin and dripping onto the sheet. Her small hands brace against his thighs. Her nails dig in as she bobs her head in time with the pounding from behind.
SinB straddles a third guy who lies flat on his back. Her black dress is pulled down to her elbows, exposing her perky tits that bounce freely as she rides him in reverse. Her purple-blonde hair is a tangled mess. Strands are sticking to her sweaty neck. She grinds down on his cock, circling her hips, making sure she’s taking all his length. A fourth man stands beside the bed. She turns her head and takes his dick into her mouth without breaking rhythm, sucking sloppily while her pussy clenches around the cock buried inside her.
Umji is on her side at the edge of the bed, one leg hooked high over a guy’s shoulder as he thrusts into her from a standing position. Her long dark hair fans across the mattress. Her sheer black top is torn open at the front with her breasts spilling out, her nipples hard and red from being pinched and sucked. The guy fucking her holds her thigh in a bruising grip, driving into her cunt deep and fast. Another man kneels by her head, stroking himself while she lazily licks the tip of his cock, eyes half-lidded and glassy with pleasure.
Eunha orgasms first. Her back arches as she cries out, muffled by the cock in her mouth, thighs shaking as the guy behind her slams in one last time and unloads, filling her pussy with hot semen. She clenches hard around his shaft, milking every drop, then gasps when he pulls out and his cum immediately leaks down her thighs in thick white streaks. The man in her mouth groans and finishes too, painting her lips and tongue. She swallows what lands inside. The rest drips down her chin onto her chest, mixing with her sweat.
SinB isn’t far behind. The dual stimulation - cock stretching her, someone’s fingers on her clit - snaps her composure. She throws her head back, releasing the dick in her mouth with a wet pop, and cries out as she climaxes. The guy beneath her thrusts up hard into her pulsating pussy, burying himself as deep as possible and spills inside her. She grinds through the aftershocks of her orgasm, smearing their mixed release over his pelvis.
Umji turns her head, catching SinB’s eye. They share a hazy, fucked out smile before Umji’s own orgasm hits. The man fucking her speeds up, grunting as he loses out to Umji’s tight pussy, flooding her until it overflows and drips onto the sheets. She shudders, her toes curling. A soft whine leaves her mouth at the feeling of being pumped full of cum.
The guys rotate again. Eunha is flipped onto her back, legs spread wide. One man slides back into her cum filled pussy, groaning at how slick and warm she still is. Another straddles her chest, sliding his cock between her small tits, using the mess already there as lube. She presses them together for him, tongue flicking out to catch the tip each time it pushes forward.
SinB is pulled to her knees on the floor beside the bed. Two men stand over her. She alternates sucking them off, one cock in each hand, spit shining on her lips and dripping onto her exposed breasts. Her dress hangs off her like ruined fabric. She looks up at them with dark, challenging eyes, daring them to use her mouth like a fleshlight.
Umji is lifted and carried to the armchair in the corner. She straddles one guy facing him and sinks down onto his cock with a sigh. Another steps up behind her, pressing against her ass. She tenses for a second, then relaxes as he pushes in slowly, stretching her tight. Her head falls back onto his shoulder, mouth open in a silent scream of pleasure and pain as they find a rhythm, filling her completely.
The air is thick with moans and wet sounds and skin slapping skin. Eunha’s tits bounce as she’s tit-fucked, her own hand slipping between her legs to rub her swollen clit. SinB gags happily when one man grabs her hair and forces himself deeper down her throat. Umji’s nails rake down the chest of the man in front of her, leaving red lines as the dual cocks drive her toward another peak.
One by one the men start to finish again.
The guy between Eunha’s tits groans and cums across her neck and collarbone. Thick ropes land hot on her skin. She swipes a finger through it, bringing it to her lips to taste. The man in her pussy follows soon after, adding another load inside her already overflowing cunt.
SinB’s two guys finish almost together. One across her face, the other in her open mouth. She swallows greedily, then licks her lips clean, smearing the rest over her cheeks like filthy makeup.
Umji cums again from the double stuffing, body spasming, pussy and ass clenching in waves. The men inside her lose control. One pulls out and cums across her midriff and pussy, the other stays buried and fills her ass until it leaks out around him.
They all collapse in a sweaty, sticky heap. Eunha lies sprawled on the bed, legs still trembling. SinB is kneeling on the floor, chest heaving. Umji is slumped in the chair, thighs slick and quivering.
SinB is the first to speak. Her voice hoarse from taking one throat-fucking after another but smug.
“Who’s cum haven’t I tasted yet?”
Eunha laughs, already reaching for the nearest cock. Umji just spreads her legs wider, cum slowly dripping from both her holes, ready for the man underneath her to put his cock back into her pussy.
You granted what Ahyeon wished in the first place, which was cumming inside her cunt.
“God, thank you, daddy, fuck, that was—” You shut her up with a long, passionate kiss on her lips, humming from your actions as you stay lodged inside her snugness, and it was euphoric as she thought it would be.
“You did amazing, princess.” Your words emanate that familiar pink blush on her cheeks, and that alone made you feel butterflies and genuine love rather than just entirely being horny.
It’s the best of both worlds, and the day is just getting started.
It was barely the end of noon time and you felt like you were here for a whole day—maybe hours of sex, making out and talking with Ahyeon equates into defining the flow of time. Even with the snugness of her velvety walls hugging you tight, you don’t consider pulling out yet and continue kissing her, peppering her collarbones and her neck where she’s more sensitive, earning moans of approval out of her as she urges for more. Eventually, you pull yourself out of her filled cunt, letting the sight of the achievement you’ve done be etched in your brain for eons to come. You marvel with the mess she has been on the bed, her sinful, toned body laid down and used and your cum leaking out is just perfection, not to mention her tight top that was ruined with how rough the both of you eventually became.
“Did I do too much, princess? You good?” Your questions begs an answer out of her lips, seeking thoughtfulness in the midst of evident roughness that unfolded just minutes ago.
“No, I’m fine, daddy—wanted it like that. Wanted you to give me a birthday creampie, even if it’s pretty late.” Ahyeon laughs through her apparent exasperation, clinging onto your arms to pull you into another passionate kiss which you are eager to reciprocate. You respond pretty hungrily, tongues dancing whenever they get the chance as you eventually pull out again, wanting to start the day onto something productive.
“Wanna help you clean up and get us some food, princess? What’d you think?” She has never nodded so fast before, eager to do such aftercare after you’ve wrecked her sinful hole.
“Gotta help me in the shower, daddy…”
“I will, princess. Don’t worry.”
---
You always love doing this, even with Asa or them together—nothing beats taking a shower with them, even though what might happen will equate to something filthy or wholesome.
“Did you text Asa, daddy? Is she going to come?”
“Not yet, princess.” You soap her back, and her toned, slim waist as you stare at her doe eyes. “Can’t do that when you’ve rode me and wanted to have sex with me right after you’ve blown me.”
Ahyeon pouts and chuckles right after, that beaming smile emanating her positivity despite the tease underlying beneath it. “Aw, but you loved it, right, daddy?”
You kiss Ahyeon’s forehead, tucking her hair behind her ear as you stare at her eyes continuously with sincerity as your intention, and no one can break that away from you. “Always, princess—always loved doing that to you. Glad your legs are still working.”
She snuggles her head onto your chest as you can feel her vibrations from her giggles all throughout, then staring up at you with her own genuine intent, mutually like yours. “Would always love to workout and be sturdy for you, daddy.”
She soaps your back with a loofa as you do the same on hers, but with your hands. The running, warm water slightly elevates the experience and lures in a mood where you think she’ll be feeling too. It was inevitable to begin with, not when she’s intentionally finding her hands onto your half-erect shaft and her gestures hinting to rile you up.
The mutual insatiability and sincerity is healthy, and you love it.
“Still can’t get enough? Please, princess—I don’t think I can do this anymore.” You groan right after, reading you like a book as she insists on the first move and you’re not complaining. She strokes you into hardness, her dexterous fingers doing their best as you groan between every stroke, Ahyeon smiling in satisfaction right from the way you reply to her actions.
“Missed you so much, daddy—guess multiple weeks of not meeting you is just hard for me.”
Your hand finds her soaped waist, cupping it as you pull her towards you a little closer, letting your cock nestle between the divot of her thighs, near her dripping pussylips. “It was tough for me too, princess—been so busy and stuff.”
You understand how down bad you’ve made her and the feelings are mutual. Even though you feel like you can't do this anymore, Ahyeon is the pill that keeps you going and that alone fuels you to do more.
“Right now, I am here, princess, and I won’t leave you alone.” You pull her in a tight embrace, feeling her hot body snuggle up yours only lures you to deepen the hug, kissing her shoulder as you do so. “I have the whole week to spend with you. No stress or anything—just you and me.”
Ahyeon curls up that genuine smile of love to you, and that has you swooning even with the suggestive actions she’s doing to you. “It would be fun if Asa’s gonna be here, daddy.”
“Which I would love to spend this whole week too—not let’s clean up for real and I’ll call her, okay?”
“Okay, daddy.” Ahyeon nods as she continues to clean herself in front of you, pushing away from her pussy grinding on your hard shaft, as you clean yourself swiftly too.
You’ll be thoroughly looking forward to how this day will go down, much more about how this week unfolds.
---
You let Ahyeon prepare herself with what she does best, maybe surprise yourself with an outfit that turns you on, another makeup combination that riles you up or anything. Meanwhile, you wouldn’t waste your time just watching some reels and doomscrolling, or looking outside the balcony but calling in Asa on the phone.
“You still doing something?” You look back and look at the door where Ahyeon is inside, then avert your attention towards the phone call. “Ahyeon wants you to join her.”
“Not really, baby. Where are the both of you at, though?” Asa’s cheerful tone is evident even behind the phone, looking forward to what you may say right after.
“At my place. Ahyeon was you here, to join us on some—you know, like the usual whenever we’re together.”
“Hah...” Asa chuckles through the phone, knowing what you’re talking about as it piques her interest immediately. “I’d love that always—besides, I am really curious on how Ahyeon has been doing too as soon as she saw you. I pretty much miss her…”
You smile through the phone, finding their friendship cute and can’t wait to tell everything that has happened to the both of you towards Asa. “Oh, you don’t need to tell that, Asa. We did a lot for her birthday and even now—wait, are you outside? Asa…”
You can hear Asa’s audible gasp as she laughs right after. “It was just the TV—go on, continue, please.”
“I mean like, yeah… Tons of blowjobs, princess rode me twice and I came on her face once and in her cunt, finally.”
“Mhm…” Asa is still hooked for what you may say further, teasing you with her unimpressed tone. “What more did you do to her? Finally came inside her, huh?”
“Pretty much, that’s how I’ll summarize everything, haha. Yeah, I mean, she always wants to swallow my cum most of the time or paint it all over her body but since it’s her birthday, it would be great to give her that privilege.”
“God, I can imagine how hot Ahyeon is whenever you’re fucking her good and cumming inside her—she really earned it, I guess. Isn’t it right, babe?”
“Yeah, she did. Even a better girl at behaving than you are, Asa.” Your remarks earns that hiss on the phone from Asa, a little angry from your banter as the spice in her voice is evident.
“Yah! I’ve always been a good girl for you! I will always comply with you and everything!”
“Maybe forty percent of the time. Fifty tops—you know what, you should hurry if you’re going to come. I’ll treat you both to somewhere nice and we’ll do our time together with Ahyeon, alright?”
“Okay, okay…” You can hear the silverware clashing as she prepares herself, ready to come to your place as soon as possible. “See you, babe—love you.”
“Love you too.” And there she hangs up, and the exhilaration within you starts to creep up again, knowing Asa’s going to join the both of you in this monstrosity. Suddenly, when you’re sightseeing in the balcony and metropolis down below, Ahyeon’s voice calls you in the distance as you turn around and see such a hot girl from earlier who is this simple yet endearingly pretty.
“Daddy, do you like it?”
It’s simple, the typical school uniform-esque outfit where she looks splendid of course, undeniably charismatic where it dives down to being hot. There’s just something in the way she delivers what she wears that exudes confidence and compliments her figure well, and that element alone strikes something in you and further makes you fall down your knees for her (mostly in this part, she’s head over heels for you but the feelings are mutual).
“Of course, princess—everything you wear always looks good on you. Are we going to the university or something?” You tease Ahyeon for the umpteenth time, knowing that the semestral break is far from over and knowing that she specifically knows what turns you on.
Yes, the tie invites something special in you, most likely the culprit for a great choking side dish on your main course. Even the short skirt she wears right now alone, perfectly accentuating how well her legs look and her delicious thighs peeking out for you to drool on.
She is basically the epitome of perfection, but then you think that Asa can challenge that.
You anticipate what she will wear but right now, you should spend the next hours somewhere else that is outside of your place.
“So, we’re going out? We’re not just gonna stay here with Asa, daddy?”
“Well, I figured out that I should treat my princesses to some great food and some quality time, no?” You come closer to Ahyeon, grasping her soft hand as you stare at her eyes. “Besides, this week would be a great time to be free from the stress we’ll eventually meet later.”
“Fair point, daddy—that’s so thoughtful and so sweet of you! Thank you so much…” Ahyeon hugs you tightly, head resting against your chest as she looks up at you, feeling shy from her sudden actions which you reassure her with a chuckle.
“Don’t be shy, Ahyeonie—this is only fair, you know? Now, let’s get ourselves ready—wait, I should be the one doing that…” The sudden realization hits you, as Ahyeon faintly giggles from that slight mishap of yours.
“Go ahead, daddy—I’ll be waiting.”
This whole day won’t just dissolve into just some filthy sex even with Asa coming over—after all, you have the whole week with the two to spend with and to cherish each and every moment, no matter how wholesome or filthy it can be.
---
You’re brushing your teeth now as Ahyeon calls you, stopping herself from doomscrolling on her phone and asking the question: “Aren’t we gonna wait for Asa, daddy?”
You spit towards the sink, gargling some water as you reply to her with a slight of murmur. “We are, princess—she texted me that she’s going to be here in a minute or two.”
Ahyeon gasps, a little excited from your reply. “Oh? Finally she’s going to be here!”
She fixes herself, comb her hair a little while she does miniature retouches on her makeup as you finish brushing your teeth, gargling some warm water to ease up your feeling. Suddenly as you’re gargling, the doorbell rings loudly, so you spit the water into the sink quickly as you rush towards the door, opening to see the girl you’ve been waiting for (also Ahyeon).
“Babe! Oh, I missed you!” Asa pulls you towards her frame, her lithe figure is pretty surprising in terms of her strength as she hugs you tightly, feeling her warmth finally after weeks and weeks of being away.
“Missed you too, Asa—was this the perfume I gifted you on Christmas?”
“Yeah, it is, babe. Really love the sweet scent of it…” Asa eventually pulls out of your embrace as a familiar girl appears in the distance of Asa’s eyes as it lits up from that sight.
“Ahyeon-ah! You’re here!” The gleaming smile of Asa permeates around the vicinity as she’s happy to see the younger girl and one of her closest friends. “Guess the both of you are waiting for me, hm?”
“Yes, we are, babe—but first, do you wanna drink some water or what? Seems like going towards here was a bit tiring, no?”
Asa scoffs as she reassures you, alternating her attention towards the both of you. “Oh, I don’t need it though but thanks. My friend fetched me all the way here, glad she had some time herself.”
“Well, I’m glad my other princess isn’t too tired…” The name certainly makes Asa blush, an evident rosy hue all across her cheeks. Ahyeon slightly chuckles with your remark though, pretty much agreeing on the pet name you called Asa accurately.
“Come on in, babe—I’ll get other stuff ready and then we’ll get in my car, alright?” Asa nods right after, as she comes in and frantically seizes her hands to hold Ahyeon’s, feeling that sense of comfort.
“You know, I really think the both of you talked your outfits through—you look great though, Asa.”
“Oh thanks, babe.” Asa plants her hand in front of her mouth, a little modest when chuckling and being flustered by your compliments as she averts her attention towards Ahyeon. “Do you think this looks great, Ahyeon-ah?”
“Oh, it does look good on you! Always love the way you style yourself, Asa.” Ahyeon’s a bit shy with her compliments towards the older girl, as you find yourself agreeing because it’s just factual at this point—you always love the way Asa styles herself, a true fashion icon in your eyes. While you swoon over the sight of Asa’s perfect figure and such a great yet simple outfit, you finalize yourself with a few touches and cleaning near the sink, letting the girls wait for you.
“I guess having authority in the university is challenging, no? Still feeling stressed lately, Asa?”
“I mean yeah, a little—” Asa’s gripping the headboard of the couch a little tight, as she vents out some little frustration at her end. “—and they also want me to go higher and be their secretary at the student council? I’m sorry but I can’t really live with that as if the schoolworks weren’t enough to fuck me up—glad this break was necessary.”
“Well, I know someone that can fuck you up…” Ahyeon teases Asa, as the older girl paints that shocked face and Ahyeon in return, just laughs in response.
“Oh my goodness—babe, she’s been too bold ever since the both of you are alone for just a day? Wow, look at you, Ahyeonie~”
You clean and dry your face and arms with a towel, now pretty much ready to go as you further strengthen Asa’s claims. “You don’t need to tell me that, babe—she’s been pretty confident and brave ever since she fulfilled her birthday wish.”
Asa and you chuckles as Ahyeon blushes harder from the words thrown at her. It wasn’t seen as something degrading, but uplifting as Ahyeon is finally becoming bold with you, and even Asa. Not going to lie, seeing this side of Ahyeon more frequently than before is refreshing, and it’s the best in both worlds.
“Bet it felt good, right, Ahyeon-ah?”
“It does…” Ahyeon doesn’t deny it and wears it proudly as it's evident from her face, Asa smirking from how Ahyeon portrays how great it felt, even in the slightest.
“Ok, I’m done, ladies. You girls can just wait in the car. I'll just check on something here, alright?” Their conversations got hindered by you as they rushed towards the car, seeing them off to the distance and their slight dorkiness in their bodies which made you chuckle a little.
You sigh and curl up a smile, excited on how this week may unfold. “Love these girls…”
You really do, and you hope they stay being this lively, easygoing, happy and of course, hot.
That’s pretty explanatory, and you need to rush yourself too because the time is ticking, and it’s ticking fast.
---
They’re loud, funny and pretty suggestive—you’re holding the steering wheel for dear life just to get your attention averted towards the road, refraining from distracting yourself from Asa and Ahyeon’s antics, let alone their subtle actions that attract invitation.
“Babe, I swear—the freshmen in the university are more chill than what I ever thought. Maybe the stress of being in authority burns me out but at least I’m making friends, right?” Asa asks you about her slight doubts, consulting you as her eyes are eager, anticipating your answer.
In all honesty, you’re not the best when it comes to giving advice generally but you came to grow as a better person yourself ever since you’ve been tangled up in the polyamorous relationship between Asa and Ahyeon. Your mind state becomes healthier and you come to realize that wisdom comes with experience, being grateful for the little things and becoming socially exposed too with the help of the two really made you who you are today.
“Yeah, baby—as long as the friends you’re making are on the good side, then it’s great!” You multitask between looking at the tracker and swerving over slightly slower cars on the highway, Asa’s voice averting your attention towards her. “Besides, I think you guys will get along well because of how brainrotten these people can be.”
“We’re not brainrotted though, daddy—we just happen to be influenced by what we see on the Internet.” Ahyeon makes a great point, pouting as she chuckles from your remarks.
“Don’t act like you’re not in the loop of these things, babe. Besides, they seem like great people to hang out with.”
“I mean, I’m eventually gonna see these things, babe. Also, probably they are pretty fun to hang with—can’t really think of anything else other than the two of you.” Your smoothness makes them blush and you can just sense it, Asa eliciting an audible ‘wow’ from your flirtatious transition.
You can feel Asa’s habits coming to play yet again, with her hand on your thighs as she talks about how you’re getting smoother with the way you flirt. “I see you, babe—really pulling that, hm?”
“Can’t help it when I’m surrounded by two gorgeous girls.” It is in its utmost truth, and even if it’s most described as another flirtatious attempt, it will be working and truly factual.
“Are we still far away from there, daddy?” Ahyeon leans over to ask you, her eyes focused on you as her patience is running thin, and so is Asa’s, agreeing to Ahyeon’s question.
“Ladies, you can literally see it on the tracker here.” You don’t know if this is intentional just to pluck something in you but you mostly don’t really care, yet for sure, they’re just asking that for validation and to tease you.
“Sometimes, the GPS is pretty inaccurate, babe, y’know?” Asa’s hands find your shoulder, patting on it, then looking at you in an oddly nonchalant manner. “Gotta need to know it from you.”
You roll your eyes knowing the fact that you’re going to comply with their antics yet again. There’s no reason to reject it as it will just further put gasoline to the fire—you should get used to just going to the flow with your two lovely brats.
“We’re near there, like ten minutes tops—just relax yourselves, alright? The both of you will love this.” And they do, not without smiles painting their faces as you sigh deeply, mouthing yourself the words. “I just can't with these girls…”
Definitely you can’t, but you can’t resist them for their grip on you (figuratively and literally) is unparalleled, and that’s the beauty of this relationship.
----
Everything went as planned in your head, letting them eat some of their favorite foods, treating them to some bubble milk tea and even letting them earn some stuffed toys in the arcade. This is seriously one of the monumental moments in your life since it’s like once in a blue moon to hang out with the three of you together, and this moment of wholesomeness and romance is at an all-time high.
Yet, the lingering feeling of temptation seeps in because you can’t think straight when both of them are in such great outfits that compliments their figure and those short skirts—it genuinely makes your head dent in the right places, an Achilles’ heel to be exact.
They know what they’re doing and the underlying poison is already taking place.
Here’s maybe how the story goes: let’s just skip to the part where the filthiness starts because it was inevitable in the first place.
The older girl is clever, as her senses are overwhelmed and has this inkling of that familiar feeling within you—she senses how much you wanted her so much you couldn’t contain it anymore once the three of you are alone together yet again.
How could you not feel something so familiar when Asa’s hands are stroking your rock-hard cock, teasing the tip as you distract yourself from focusing on the road ahead.
“I swear to god, babe—I’m gonna crash this car if you keep doing that.” Asa doesn’t seem to budge, not even the slightest. Her tongue envelops the sensitive muscle, flickering against it as the voice of Ahyeon reverberates around your ear, in awe and enabling Asa even more—it doesn’t help you in the slightest but you’re now trapped here, unable to do anything but avert your attention towards driving safely.
“If w-we get pulled over, it’s your damn fault, Asa.”
“At least they get to see how to give head properly.” She continues slurping all over your length, the dark blur down below a mere distraction as you double your efforts on driving safely.
You just hope to god you’re near at your place but it isn’t, and there’s no sugarcoating that. Not to mention, you need to follow the tracker on the screen before the highway you’re familiar with, multitasking yourself and tanking one hell of a distraction that can put you in the gutter.
This is a blessing and curse and nothing around is helping you but yourself.
“No wonder why Ahyeon got addicted to sucking you off, babe—this cock is just delicious in every way.” Asa’s fingers come into play, the utmost stimulation of a new recruit in the battle inside your brain and your sanity. She continued her slow bobs, her immediate slurps and gags an audible sound to test you. You’d grow to adapt in these types of situations, her test a mere challenge at this point as your subtly shaking hands hand on the steering wheel tighter, your senses following the tracker with the best of your precision.
“Fucking hell, baby—slow down, please. I’m gonna crash this fucking car, I’m serious.” Thankfully, your pleas are answered, her pace slowing down a ton as she keeps her tongue busy around your sensitive length, and it doesn’t aid you to the very least.
“Swerving a little, hm, daddy? Asa must’ve been making you feel so good yet so miserable, right?” Fucking right, it’s downright in the abyss of despair and pleasure, wishing you can just pull over and let yourself feel the softness of Asa’s lips and hoe she makes you feel good.
You want to do that—no, you need to do that because you can’t bear driving for almost thirty minutes with Asa giving you a blowjob on the sunset.
You wouldn't tell her that though because telling her that would be digging your grave. Fighting the haywire in you, you gathered the mental capacity to find a spot where you can pull over and let the filthiness commence yet somehow, Asa senses this and pinches your thigh.
“No, baby—pull over and that just proves how much you can’t handle me. You wanna make a show for our princess here, right?” You really do but now, she’s playing with your ego in the name of oral sex, and that enables something in you to prove yourself that you’ll always have the authority no matter what.
Fuck it, you will take her like a champ until the finish line.
You try and maintain your speed to an eighty to ninety, but it’s becoming challenging with further techniques up Asa’s sleeve, inconsistencies evident with the way your body reacts to her actions. You moan slightly, the pleasure running over you a chase towards the edge, feet getting messed up a little once she works her tongue onto your leaking slit repeatedly.
You might just want to be a pussy and do what’s right, because there’s no greater outcome here when the car insurance rings your phone constantly because of what may happen.
Asa averts her attention towards the tracker, then looks on your face, knowing something is up on you. “Changing routes, are we, hm, babe?”
For the past fourteen months, Asa grew enough to read you like a book, ultimately knowing when you’re at your lowest or when you’re desperate for something. At your end, it’s getting there because sometimes, she can be unpredictable and a great example is what unfolds right at this moment: Asa sloppily blowing you in the car while you’re driving at your utmost best while Ahyeon records everything.
The scene is depraved and you wish you could just close your eyes and savor every second but you can’t do that. Not when you’re on a highway, little-to-no traffic and desperate to find somewhere to stop and let her do her expertise.
“Pulling over to feel my mouth better, baby? Looks like I got you real fucking good.” It’s salacious and it’s perfect, downright abysmal as she plays with your cock to torture you, swerving a little in response as she keeps herself occupied
“Yeah—fucking brat can’t contain herself and wants to suck me off w-while—shit, I’m in a middle of the road driving. How can I even deny that?” You hiss at her, but those words fall deaf to her ears as she gives you head consistently in terms of quality and pleasure.
“I guess daddy will cum before he pulls over somewhere.” Ahyeon’s laughter comes right after, her sinister side enabling you and her teases primarily to edge you closer. How can you not? Not when Ahyeon’s honey voice tingles you as she says profanities and Asa’s really bad business on your shaft—it’s just absurd at this point, perfectly filthy.
Finally, some light sheds in the distance (figuratively), pretty much an indication on where you can stop and let Asa do her thing to the fullest, not worrying about crashing such a treasured car of yours.
“No, keep both hands on the steering wheel, babe—I will stop if you do that again.” Asa’s way of words just riles you up even more, letting yourself be focused and your hands gripping the wheel with a white knuckle.
A part of you dearly wants to do that and stop Asa and her blowjob right now, so you can still store everything and to come home as soon as possible without the concern of risks. But then, you don’t want to hinder her advances, not when she enabled you so much that you need to erupt in her mouth and the gratification you’re currently experiencing urges you to take everything and indulge in the pleasure.
An abrupt turn and just a few meters ahead, you accelerate faster than usual, sending Asa to do her wonders on you with more effort and Ahyeon’s remarks now including your dive into submission.
“Daddy’s really fucked up right now, oh my god.” Ahyeon looks over, still holding her phone and recording every obscene second and calling the older girl’s attention. “Asa, if you continue that, he may cum before even stopping.”
“That’s the point, Ahyeon-ah.” Asa eventually slows down her strokes on your cock, as that raises an eyebrow on you but is still focused on what you should do. “But then, a load on my mouth right here would be a waste.”
“What are you—” Asa is there to cut you off, groaning as she squeezes your cock for good measure, and averts her attention towards you, eyes focused and lips curling up a smirk. You’ve technically came a little, a drizzle evident onto your slit as you catch your breath due to the adrenaline she gave you.
“Sorry, babe—don’t get me wrong, I’d love to taste your load but not here.” Asa then leans over, whispering in your ear as you anticipate what words may come out of her mouth. “Would love it either inside or on us two when we get home.”
Diabolical. Gutted but you’re patient but you despise that.
“I fucking hate you, Asa—god, now what? Wasted time on finding a different route…”
Asa looks at you, pouting cutely as if nothing obscene happened like a few seconds ago. “Get us home, pretty please, babe?”
You roll your eyes as Asa helps you on dressing your mess of a bottom half, as Asa reassures, “Don’t worry, it will be fun when we get home.”
“It will be, daddy—like so much more fun.” Ahyeon seconds the motion, ultimately convincing you that what unfolds later will be up to your liking.
Maybe it was for the best, because right now, you’re fucked up beyond comparison.
Oh, how can these girls spiral you into an utter mess…
---
The familiar road now gives you a sigh of relief, as the girls keep their conversations hooked as you eavesdrop. When the final turn towards your place happens, they’re thrilled to be finally home and you’re just glad you didn’t crash the car onto somewhere and something—you’re probably not doing that again with a psychotically horny Asa next time, but then, you loved the thrill.
Gone are the honorifics and the foreplay, because as soon as the three of you stepped in your place and Ahyeon locked the door shut, the magic happened.
“Have your way with her, daddy—would do something for the meantime…”
“Better come back, princess.” You remind her and Ahyeon nods, skedaddling out and minding her own business—you’d be interested in what she may introduce the both of you as she comes back, but for now, your attention is focused only for Asa.
“Missed me, babe?” You keep yourself attended, kissing her neck as she moans in response. “Oh you really fucking do—god, keep doing that, babe.”
You don’t need to talk when every movement elicits the very best of moans out of her mouth. You keep marking her, even licking as being depraved from a girl you yearn for reduces you into this animalistic stance, and you're hungry for her.
“Please, kiss me, baby—” So did you, cutting her out and letting your lips crash onto hers immediately. Hearing those words of need must equate onto something that lies within compliance, fulfilling what she needs as you deepen the kiss, tongues tangled.
Oh, let’s state the fact right now: you have no complaints nor qualms whenever making out with Ahyeon, but Asa is just in a different game.
Asa finds your tongue with her lips, sucking on it as she bobs her head up and down right after, letting the sensation of her lips be savored by you. Your lips aren't idle though, kissing her all throughout this mess as you match her advances. Her tongue eventually finds yours, alternating within the bobs on your tongue and dancing the muscles in between as you moan all throughout, and her hums vocal against your mouth.
It was thirty seconds of such sight of need, showcasing how much the deprivation caused her to do and you love it. You never pulled out of the kiss, eagerly reciprocating whatever she does as you held her waist gently, then pinning her against the wall. You pull out eventually, depleted of oxygen and expressing how much you really did miss her. “God, I really fucking missed you, baby.”
Asa smiles as she looks up at you with that mischievous smirk, seductively turning you on as both your hands rest against her tiny waist. “Then why aren’t we fucking yet?”
“Because I need to taste you first.” It wasn’t long before you initiated another torrid kiss, yet this time, you bit on her lip a little rough but not enough to make a bruise, a little hiss coming from her mouth from the miniscule pain you’ve inflicted. It was all hot and sloppy, feeling each other’s drool and need on each passing second, now getting a little harsh with the way you act by pressing her midriff tighter as she does the same on the hem of your shirt. It was another thirty seconds of carnal kissing until you pull out of her lips’ embrace, ready to take what’s yours and to claim what you’ve been depraved off.
“Gonna eat your pussy.” You kneel down as Asa bites her lip, locking her eyes onto you as her hands stay idle on her hips. “Ahyeon would know how much of a slut you are whenever I eat you out.”
It is true, because whenever you take control and weaken her, she would eventually submit. “Then let her watch, after all, we’re going to be crazy until the sun rises.”
“Actual freak.”
She is and so are you, and now, you’re diving into her cunt.
You pull down her panties and off to her ankles it goes, as your fingers swipe familiar strokes that makes her breath shudder and knees buckle. You always love teasing her like this because of how sensitive she gets when you touch her like this. She bites her lip, eliciting the sultriest moans as you keep two digits in her tightness, feeling her wetness envelop your dexterous fingers.
“Hold your skirt for me please, babe.” She keeps it on her waist, hiked up as she shudders with the way you deal with her. Asa is in fucking need of your mouth on her dripping cunt, but then you’ll always have that one virtue in you, even in sex.
“Please—just f-fucking eat me already.”
“Patience, babe.” Your fingers keep that steady pace, moving consistently as you hear a thud on the wall, her head resting against it as she moans your name. “My mouth will devour this delicious cunt, okay?”
Your eyes find her vulnerable state, as Asa looks down and nodded, fully trusting you.
It’s just beautiful to see the girl earlier teasing you and challenging you in a near-accident inducing situation could be reduced to such a whimpering, needy mess—that image will always be in your head, especially when she’s ruined and yearning for you.
You tease her clit then plunge in and thrust your fingers, making sure she’s in that state where she’ll just crumble down but not enough. She keeps herself steady, and even with just your fingers, she’s almost reeling and giving in.
“It’s just your fingers, babe—oh my fucking god.” Asa is whimpering, wanton cries blessing your ears as she indulges with the pleasure. “It’s j-just your fucking fingers…”
“I’ll eat you out now, okay?”
Before diving in, you look onto the corner to see if Ahyeon’s there to watch yet there weren’t any signs of her presence just yet—you don’t mind it even when she’s secretly eavesdropping the filthiness that is currently taking place, you’d always love to provide a great show for your audience.
And so you did, tongue in her cunt and she convulses.
“Fuck, babe!” Asa screams, hissing as your tongue keeps her lower half in a challenge of sturdiness, possibly pliant as her knees shake. She’s already wet to the point that you definitely want to get up, turned her around and fuck her harshly, but then you’ll be a hypocrite. Discipline is within you still even such an insane sight, keeping yourself occupied with the way you eat her cunt and a man of your words.
“Please—eugh, p-please keep doing that.” She chokes on her own spit, moaning repeatedly as your tongue swipes onto her leaking slit, your other digit thrusting in her pussy. You test her limits even with just your mouth on her cunt and possibly, you can feel how much of a mess she’s making and how she’s nearing that epic high.
You won’t even give Asa a respite, not even a second because she’s practically cumming on your fingers with how she’s forming rivulets of her nectar on it.
“Plea—I’m gonna cum, babe!” Asa’s gripping the hem of skirt with a vice grip, maybe even near tearing it as you keep her steady, hands grasping her moderately proportionate backside. You eat her with utmost will to make her climax, thrusting your tongue onto her walls as she lets out a carnal scream of pleasure.
Asa cums, and it’s beautiful.
She spurts onto your face as you keep fucking your tongue against her slit, repeatedly caressing her ass as you reassure her. Her climax possibly lasted for at least fifteen seconds, in which you took your time to devour her at utmost desire and it never had felt so good for the both of you.
“Messy.” You lick all over the vicinity of your lips, tasting her juices as you hum in delight, exchanging glances with her as she breathes heavily and recovering from her intense orgasm.
“Yes she is, daddy.” Out of nowhere, her familiar resonates around your ear and your attention towards the younger girl.
God, she managed to look more stunning and genuinely ruinable—a set of twintails, top tied on her back to expose that slutty, toned midriff of hers and little changes on her makeup.
This is literally heaven and hell, and the balance is always great.
“God, you ate me so good, babe.” Asa looks down at you, beads of sweat on her neck as she smiles with your filthy advances crumbling her down into submission despite standing still. “We would love to return the favor.”
“Badly, daddy.” Ahyeon finishes it, and so, the younger girl deftly goes towards you as you stand up and let Asa get herself back in her senses. Asa and yourself can’t take off both your eyes on Ahyeon when she’s looking like this sizzling hot and a snack—genuinely, Asa is on par with Ahyeon’s hotness or even exceeding hers yet there something with Ahyeon that has been putting your brain circuits in a haywire.
“You like my little improvement, daddy? Bet that dick of yours is so hard from eating Asa out.” Ahyeon knows and it’s true, because you’re leaking a little from your underwear after seeing Asa cream that hard onto your face. Of course, her former questions have the most obvious answer known to date: Yes, princess. You look stunning.
That earned a smile from her face as Asa wouldn’t fall behind and let your attention be solely focused on Ahyeon immediately, as she pulls out the weapon of mass destruction (let’s just visualize the fact of those tiny bombs in your brain whenever you see this bit of Asa).
She raised her brown top a little and unbuttoned the bottom-half of the white long sleeve underneath, averting your attention towards Asa as she seduces you with the way she strips herself even in the miniscule bit.
Both of them will be the death of you, that alone you swore to the heavens above.
“Relax, babe—we’re going to take care of you so good, right, princess?”
“Yes, Ahyeon-ah—we’ll make you cum so much, daddy~” That alone is the epitome of an invitation of filth and you’re lured in, head first (pun intended).
As bright as their smiles and their personalities are, so are their brains, clearly eager to undress you hastily. Ahyeon works on your belt as Asa works onto your zipper and your pants, tugging them down to allow them to be a step closer to their grand prize. They eventually see it, a familiar wet spot on your boxers as Asa’s finger teases the leaking tip, making you groan a little as the sight below is something you always love to see.
“You’re leaking already, babe? My cunt must’ve been too much for you…”
“Yeah, baby—it is.” Ahyeon now joins the fun, tugging onto the hem of your underwear as the older girl further teases you. “Now fucking blow me, you two, alright?”
“Patience, baby.” Of course, Asa made you swallow your own words against her awhile ago but you’re not complaining—pretty much that’s your dogma, even in these situations. You relish on the sight of them playing on your clothed crotch for a little while, your hands finding their dark-colored locks and caressing it. It wasn’t too long before they couldn't take it anymore and were eager to finish what Asa started an hour ago, alongside Ahyeon.
Asa tugs your boxers down, and they are met with their favorite monster yet again. There wasn't any cheeky foreplay to tell you to get ready or anything, because eventually you will brace yourself with two girls pleasuring you on their absolute power. They spit on your hardened shaft, letting their hand spread their drool all over your length as their tongues tease your slit, tasting your precum.
“Missed sucking your cock, babe.” Asa eventually takes over your sensitive tip impatiently, dancing her tongue all over the edge of the mushroom tip as Ahyeon cups your balls, feeling how full it must have been after all of the stimulation that happened. “You always leak so much—fucking love it.”
Asa dives in deeper, going almost halfway on your rod as Ahyeon averts her attention towards your globes, licking onto it as she squeezes on it gently which earns faint groans out of it. The sight down below is downright pornographic and the best it has ever been because it’s not like everyday two beautiful, hot girls get to blow you eagerly.
“Feels so full, daddy—can’t wait to drain them…” Ahyeon licks the base of your cock right after, fondling your balls as Asa further advances herself onto your length, bobbing her head up and down. Asa eventually finds your hand and directs it towards her dark locks, letting you caress it and tug even just to let you be comfortable.
“Would love to drain them, babe.” Asa bobs continuously, not before pulling out with saliva a mess on her mouth, her eyes in contact with yours. “But whose throat will receive it, do you think?”
“We’ll see.” That’s what you articulated, and you’re clearly anticipating how this unfolds further. In a relentless manner, Asa dances her tongue on your drool-sheathed tip, slurping on it as she teases every possible inch she can occupy, meanwhile Ahyeon just steadily strokes your base and keeps you in check. Asa isn’t really selfish even though she needs you as much as you need her, and let Ahyeon take the spotlight, now the suckling onto your balls eagerly.
Now, the younger girl is taking your length halfway as Asa averts her attention towards your balls.
Ahyeon keeps her space moderate against your length, running her tongue against the familiar places she mapped earlier this morning, but not without little gags which she fights, determined to let you know that she can take a good cock like Asa. Here’s the problem and the harsh truth: Ahyeon is still nowhere near the lengths of how Asa can do it, but you’re eager to say that Ahyeon is a natural and learning fast.
Also, let’s not forget to mention those blowjob eyes in contact with yours whenever you look down, the best amongst the bunch and maybe that’s her advantage against Asa.
In all honesty, you shouldn’t really be comparing the two and just savor the work they’re doing all over you. You’re eventually in that trance, feeling their mouth and their hands pleasure you into no-return, amplifying the gratification you’re experiencing as both of your hands caress their hair and tug on it, a leverage to fight the pleasure.
“Fuck, it’s always so delicious, daddy—sucking your cock is so addicting, no wonder why Asa always gets to blow you every week when she gets the chance.” Her words surprised you and Asa, but Asa just hums on your balls as she playfully hits Ahyeon, the younger girl smiling throughout the mouthful of cock.
“You c-can’t blame me, Ahyeon—” She certainly won’t, because Ahyeon is devouring your cock like she can’t have it anymore, pushing more into her throat as her bobs becomes more consistently messy, drool seeping out of her mouth as Asa watches the younger girl act her needs. “—look at your fucking slobbering all over his cock like a needy slut.”
Ahyeon whimpers as Asa’s degrading words seem to click something in her, and all you can do is listen and watch it all unfold. Asa doesn’t just play with you, but also multitasks herself, finding Ahyeon’s clothed cunt already dripping and she teases her because of it.
“Already so wet just by sucking his cock—what a needy, cockhungry slut you are, Ahyeon.” Asa sets Ahyeon’s panties and lets her fingers pleasure the younger girl's snug cunt, letting Ahyeon moan over your sensitive head.
You can feel the vibrations all over your length as she moans with the pleasure inside her cunt, and Asa’s relentless with it, fingering Ahyeon and even going far as to threatening her if she doesn’t keep her pace on you. “He won’t fuck you if you pull out of that cock—keep sucking him off for me, Ahyeon.”
Ahyeon does, only withdrawing with the tip inside and almost taking you in entirety, and it’s an action repeated several times. Asa does her final finishing touches on your balls, leaving it slimed with her drool as she stands up and looks at you, inviting you into another torrid kiss. The both of you share the same intimacy minutes ago, tongues dancing and lips hungry for each other meanwhile Ahyeon advances herself onto your cock even more, and it’s sloppier than before.
Ahyeon slurps on your length, hungry for more as she tries to take you all in but her gag reflexes tests her and she’s taking you like a champ. She would eventually pull out, swirl her tongue all over you which makes you moan against Asa’s mouth, and the older girl smiles as you do.
“Love tasting yourself, babe?” Asa asks, her stare piercing through you as she anticipates an answer out of your lips.
“Pretty weird but… but it’s you, so I’ll let it slide.”
It’s totally peculiar, but Asa can take you to lengths unimaginable for she is insatiable and the one that can defy your limits in the leagues of sex. The both of you share a chuckle right after, indulging onto another ephemeral kiss before Ahyeon’s squelching noises distracts the both of you, and Asa clearly knows what to do to further test Ahyeon herself.
“Not gonna join our princess, baby?”
“Would love to, but…” Ahyeon pops out, looking at Asa’s finger tracing her cheeks, black trails of her mascara evident as she finds the back of Ahyeon’s head and caresses it. “...wouldn’t it be great to see our princess test how she can handle us both?”
Fuck, that’s a different side of Asa you love to see.
She always has this dynamic in her and you love the duality, especially when it’s people she’s extremely comfortable with. It just doesn’t end or limit herself onto just verbal and physical control or submission, but also external tangible items that can elevate the experience from both parties. Even with that, it seems like she’ll do it the old-fashioned way and you’d be here for a show as you nodded after her question.
“Open your mouth, princess. Then, just continue what you’re doing.” Oh yes, the pet names too, she does that to a certain extent.
Asa’s hands tug Ahyeon’s head firmly, feeling Ahyeon bob and move with a moderate rhythm which Asa observes to be just right for a girl like her. Your hand finds Ahyeon’s dark locks and Asa’s tiny waist, until Asa herself stops you, wanting to do something which you are all ears with. “Your hands, babe. On your back, please.”
You do comply, not without another peck on her lips as you watch how Asa treats Ahyeon, letting her hand push Ahyeon further on your cock and lodging it all the way, without respite. The play of asphyxiation comes over Ahyeon’s senses, as she regulates her breath as time goes by, Asa not even hesitant to pull out and testing her limits.
Asa doesn’t care if Ahyeon gags or what because she’s in control, the utter dominance letting you marvel at the sight and moaning with the way Ahyeon is taking you all the way in. Asa keeps her firm grip on Ahyeon’s head as her lips meet the base of your cock, and that sight alone earns approval from the older girl.
“Keep it all the way in, princess—god, you’re taking him so well.” Asa caresses Ahyeon’s hair, a cheerful tone emanating around the room as she commends Ahyeon.
“Keep staring at him—I know our daddy loves a beautiful girl staring at his eyes while she takes his cock like a needy slut.” The dynamic is evident, and Asa’s tone switches makes you throb—her dirty talks are immaculate, and that’s a given—and so is Ahyeon’s throat warming your cock.
“Which happens to be you, princess.” You’re going to fucking lose it.
Asa eventually pulls Ahyeon out of such a carnal deepthroating session, strings of saliva a mess on your cock and on Ahyeon’s chin, mouth and even her top. Ahyeon catches her breath and smiles at both of you, satisfied that she’s training to tame her gag reflex and the hotness of taking you all the way in.
“God, I-I—” Ahyeon is still catching her breath, all while you lift her chin up and place a finger on her mouth, feeling those soft lips and skin on your digits. Ahyeon sucks on it intimately, possibly making out on it as the lewd sight keeps the ambiance in such a hot mood.
“Speak up for him, princess—speak what you wanna say for our daddy.”
“T-that—that was r-really good. Fuck, I l-love it.”
“What do you love, princess?” Asa questions her, still not satisfied with a poorly articulated experience.
“Love sucking daddy’s c-cock off, love the w-way you push me in—love the way it made me wet…” She isn’t lying, all are factual (not to boost your ego, she really loves your cock in her mouth now) and the both of you seem to have a glimpse of the aftermath of such a filthy experience.
“Baby, she’s so fucking wet, look at her.” You avert Asa’s attention over Ahyeon’s wet spot on the skirt and when the older girl helps her get up, she wants to feel and see it for herself.
“May I?” Asa asks and Ahyeon nods without hesitation, moaning against Asa as Ahyeon’s hands find Asa’s waist and shoulders, holding onto the older girl’s body as she fingers Ahyeon’s wet cunt.
“You are really soaked, princess—I think I know what she wants, babe.”
You raise an eyebrow, still resting against the wall semi-uncomfortably and grunting. “What is it? To fuck her cunt, I suppose?”
Asa smiles as she averts her attention towards the crumbling Ahyeon, who’s face is perfectly disheveled and gleaming that smile that signifies that you’re pretty much checking the boxes here.
“Come on, Ahyeonie—say what you want him to do to you.”
Ahyeon eventually lets go of her embrace on Asa, as she bites her lip and musters up the courage to really tell you what she wants (maybe, in more detail). “Want you to fuck me silly, daddy.”
You eventually push out of the uncomfortable position you’re in, walking inches towards Ahyeon as you cup her cheek. “And what, princess? Gotta be more than that.”
“Once we get in the bedroom, daddy.” You nod as you respect Ahyeon’s ways of dirty talk, and so is Asa, and even agreeing to her as she’s wondering why the three of you are still in the hallway doing such filth.
Then, there weren’t any questions asked further as all the three of you went to the bedroom, preferably yours as Asa suggested.
---
Sure, not finishing on their throats is pretty criminal for all of the edging they did on this day because genuinely, you’re dying to cum to them.
Maybe this is a blessing in disguise, because right now, Ahyeon’s frame is just inches away from your touch.
There wasn't anything to say further as you sat comfortably at your chair, letting Ahyeon straddle onto your laps as your shaft brushes against her clothed crotch. “Say it now, princess.”
“Want you to fuck me, daddy—right in my cunt, please…” Ahyeon is begging with how she looks at you, but Asa and you aren’t satisfied with her answer, because the both of you know she wants to say everything you want to do to her with no restrictions.
“Use your words, princess.” The older girl asks her, then finds her glistening cunt, teasing it as she pushes her frame closer to yours, your length leaking and messing up her skirt.
“W-want daddy to fuck me from behind, r-roughly…” Ahyeon grinds onto your cock, as you moan when she does so, encouraging her to continue her debauched words of needs with your hands caressing her shapely ass.
“And?”
“And spank m-me harshly, pull my h-hair, kiss my body a-and—” Ahyeon is shivering as Asa tests her further, fingering her in a relentless pace as you hold her on her hips, letting her voice out what she wants further, in detail.
“And what, princess?”
“Cum in me—”
“What?” Asa pinches Asa’s shoulders as she paints that cocky smug on her, thinking that Ahyeon doesn’t deserve a load in her cunt another time, at least she hasn’t earned it (let’s add “yet” on your end). “I don’t think you haven’t earned that, princess.”
“Hey now, babe.” You glare onto Asa as the older girl pouts, then return your attention towards Ahyeon which you keep in check, legs still straddling you as you play with her tits against the fabric. “Princess, I want you to get up, bend over the bed and put your hands behind your back, is that clear for daddy?”
Ahyeon bites her lip, nodding as she follows. “Yes, daddy—want you in me so bad.”
Ahyeon hastily gets up and out of your embrace, Asa watching everything unfold as you follow Ahyeon right after.
“Guess she’s gonna take you well, no, babe?”
“We’ll see.” You chat with Asa for a little while, then marvel at the sight of Ahyeon’s perfect figure as every inch feels unreal. “After all, she rode me pretty good yesterday.”
That’s what Asa loves to hear—she caresses Ahyeon’s cheek for reassurance, because the both of them know what’s about to let loose.
“Don’t worry princess, he’ll start slow for you, okay?” Ahyeon nods as you line your throbbing cock onto her leaking slit, grasping her hips as a leverage and god, she’s beautiful whenever she’s vulnerable. Asa deftly finds some rope to tie against Ahyeon’s wrists, fulfilling what has to be done.
“Too tight, princess?”
“No, it’s just right—please f-fuck me already…” Ahyeon is needy to the core, and there’s no second to waste because you’ve been wanting to invade her tight cunt and her flawless and ruined figure bent over serves as an invitation.
You stroke yourself a little while and then push into her and god, she feels immaculate, snug walls hugging every inch you insert sends a frenzy into you. Ahyeon whimpers uncontrollably as you pull out then tease her, even muffling her moans onto the mattress, and that alone paints a smile on your face. You didn’t really want to deprive her of any euphoria, so you eventually inserted your length inside her tightness yet again and produced a pace leisurely enough for her to get accustomed to you.
“You love daddy’s cock pummeling your pussy, princess?” Asa’s words make Ahyeon grunt, and as the younger girl is about to talk, she pulls her into a kiss, supporting her vulnerable frame with her strength, exchanging pecks and tasting each other so eagerly.
“Can taste his dick all over you, princess.”
Ahyeon gasps, painting such a lewd sight with how your cock piston against her cunt. “S-same thing—oh g-god, daddy’s so big!”
“Take her well for me, princess.” Ahyeon will do it, because she’s been built and trained to be treated as one and she’ll proudly show Asa that she can take you as well as her.
Plethora of honeyed moans fill the air and bless your ears, as you hold against her hips, ensuring a better pace to elevate the experience. You eventually command Ahyeon to lift her hips up and she does so, wanting to get rid of the piece of clothing that’s just becoming a nuisance at this point. The skirt in on the floor and utterly useless, and you didn’t care much because all you need is too wreak havoc in her pussy and let her know how much you love fucking her until incoherence.
Ahyeon’s wrists wrestle against the binds behind her back, forming fists and even more as your hands find the rope, pulling onto it as a leverage to test her. Her hands seem to magnetize onto your touch, feeling your touch with what she can do as the pace gets rougher, and are you, spanking her mounted-up backside, determined to mark what’s your red.
“God, this cunt—love fucking this cunt of yours.” Ahyeon can just muffle her moans and form bracing fists on every thrust that rocks her world, as Asa averts her attention towards you, who’s occupied with bliss and the tightness of Ahyeon’s heavenly pussy.
“How does it feel fucking her tight cunt, hm? Make you wanna cum again inside her? Let it leak on the sheets after you feel out, babe?” Jesus, Asa’s words really ignites something in you and on the bright side, she’s pretty much right, answering her own questions.
“Fuck yes—don’t worry, baby, I’ve been planning to cum inside your cunts today.” You groan as you speak your prophecy, caressing Ahyeon’s back against the clothing as your hips muster the same, harsh velocity.
“And Ahyeon’s going to get two loads? Sounds pretty unfair to me, babe.” Asa rolls her eyes as she diverts her attention towards the younger girl, pinching her ass with that rosy hue, and caressing it as she likes the debauched sight.
“Asa, babe—trust me, I’m filling you up—” Asa silences you with a torrid kiss, sloppy and measured exactly to be as long as you need to be. She pulls out, biting on your lip a little as she scans every inch of your face, painting that sincere smile of want and love.
“Of course you’ll fill me up, babe—” Asa then grasps Ahyeon’s tied wrist then runs her fingers onto the younger girl’s cheek, lifting her chin up and making that eye contact. “—but make sure you’re filling me up real good like what our princess will take…”
That you’ll promise, wholeheartedly.
Of course, you wanted to see more of Ahyeon and even with her immobile state, she tends to ease herself to show you more, Asa helping a lot as she unbuttons and lifts up the younger girl’s top, exposing that white bra and her slender back in full view. You knead her buttcheeks while they’re occupied, as Ahyeon’s plethora of needy moans advances to borderline screams every time it hits that right spot in her cunt.
“Daddy—f-fuck, I can’t h-hold much longer…” She can’t, and with her constant constrictions and her pussy getting tighter and wetter (you genuinely will need new bedsheets after you’re done with the two), it’s impossible not to tell that she isn’t close. You’re not going to punish her or anything and let herself ride it out, and Asa’s slutty mouth just makes Ahyeon’s brain go haywire, dirty talk doing wonders and altering her brain chemistry.
Her calls of your name, whimpers and the way she convulses invites you to even test against her limits, pistoning repeatedly onto the point of total domination and incoherence, and she welcomes each rough thrust against her tight pussy. You know Ahyeon can’t hold it for any longer than approximately fifteen seconds (that’s a rough estimate) so you need everything in your power overstimulate her in such a short amount of time—fingering her clit, teasing her rim, spanking her butt and even teasing her tits against the fabric.
Asa teases you, a devil talking behind your back as her words is enough for you to truly defile Ahyeon. “Fuck her up and make her cum—this sheets wouldn’t matter anymore when they’re full of Ahyeon’s juices, babe.”
Asa bites onto your ear and places kisses on your neck, her heels supporting her figure so she wouldn’t struggle and as she licks a specific spot, her words enable you onto something monstrous. “After you’ve filled her cunt, I’m riding the fuck out of you, babe.”
Ahyeon cums beautifully and you pull out to see your greatest creation, a deflowered mess as fountain of her juices meets your and sheets below (yep, you’re definitely buying new ones).
You let her orgasm ride out, fingering her pussy as she moans when you do so, her sensitivity off the roof as you’re near to your own high thanks to such hot girls enabling you. Asa strokes your Ahyeon-sheathed cock as she pulls you in for a kiss, then wants to see for herself how it is done apart from her. “Cum inside her please, babe.”
“Please, d-daddy—cum i-inside me already…” Of course, Ahyeon begs for it as Asa bobs her head, signalling that you should ful(fill) what’s promised.
So, without any seconds to waste, you insert your length in her again and this time, you’re chasing you’re own high, spiralling towards madness and you bring onslaught of harsh thrusts against Ahyeon, and Asa is just eager to push on the edge as she always do.
“Is daddy c-close? Fuck—please cum in me again, daddy!” Even through a vulnerable state, Ahyeon manages to tilt her head up high just for you to hear what she truly needs. After all, her pussy is molded to the shape of your cock that you can’t manage to pull out and do anything stupid.
After all, she’s too fucking inviting to not pass out on that opportunity.
You erupt euphorically, plugging your entire length inside her cunt as Ahyeon cries in the pleasure and the warmth of your seed, every spurt being deposited inside her velvety walls. As illegal as it sounds, you need to marvel at your own filthy doing as you manage to just unbury your cock out of her pussy, the last spurts being painted on her ass. Ahyeon could only feel your hot cum and it feels criminal and lacking as she didn’t see how beautiful you came yet the trade off was great in all terms—a load inside her cunt is just the perfect way to end the session.
Asa reaches for your cock, groaning as she strokes you furiously, not giving a damn about how sensitive you are, wringing out every drop that you can deposit. “God, look at what you’ve done, babe.”
Asa marvels at the disheveled mess you made to Ahyeon and that sight alone makes her bite her lip, wanting you to do the same to her—freshly-fucked cunt dripping with your load, top an utter mess, her back drenched with sweat, and her ass painted with your load. The older girl pulls you into another kiss for the umpteenth time, as she manages to get herself occupied on such a filthy note.
“Recover a little, babe.” Asa pushes out of your lips’ embrace, and turns her attention towards the vulnerable girl down the bed, kneeling down and wanting to savor something for herself. “Gonna treat myself to some dessert.”
Ahyeon is getting the grasp of the situation and she elicits that sweet squeal of pleasure as Asa teases her pussylips with her fingers, also measuring the amount of cum dripping out and onto the sheets. “Wow, hope you’re not too drained yet, babe—you really filled her up.”
“Can’t help it—princess is so tight and such a good girl.” You commend Ahyeon on that, and that alone makes the younger girl chuckle and smile.
“Thank y-you, daddy—loved your warm load in my c-cunt—oh fuck, Asa…”
“You really are a greedy princess, are you, hm?” She fingers Ahyeon’s sore lips, scooping a sample of cum as it goes in her mouth, humming soundly as she feels satisfied. “Also, your cum always tastes so good.”
That flutters you, blushing as you keep yourself hooked onto the scene that’s currently unfolding: Asa easting out Ahyeon eagerly. Asa’s tongue swipes over the delicious lips of her cunt, earning moans and whimpers out of Ahyeon as she can’t control her hands, forming fists and possibly bruises for the eagerness to let go onto the knot of the rope. Ahyeon’s lips quiver with the pleasure of overstimulating her, honeyed moans turning into needy whimpers as she voices out how great Asa is eating her out.
These two have a great dynamic even when you’re out and being busy in the university, they would even find ways to hand out and fuck each other and you can see how talented Asa is—her mouth is a wonderful gift alongside her skillful, dexterous fingers.
Asa makes Ahyeon shudder, knees bending and legs kicking a little because of the pleasure she’s coursing through the younger girl’s veins, and that sight alone makes you smile and satisfied.
You stroke Asa’s luscious, black locks, feeling her bob in every second as you cherish her expertise, enabling her as much as she enabled you earlier.
“See how much cum is in there, baby? That’s going to be your cunt later and I know you’ll love it.” Of course, you know she’s always loved your load inside her, but this one feels special because it’s such a nice early birthday treat for her and because of such love that you’ve felt with her that just amplifies for each day you haven’t seen her.
This is just the perfect balance of total filth and genuine love with each other, and that’s the wonder of this polyamorous relationship.
Asa keeps slurping and eating Ahyeon out, lapping all of the cum that she can taste and with Asa herself being too horny to not feel you, she can’t take such deprivation and confessed what she’s feeling right now. Asa stands up and you untie Ahyeon’s binds, and finally, the younger girl can freely move herself and the first thing she does is to grab you by the shirt and stare at your eyes, genuinely thanking you for what you’ve given her on this day.
“Daddy, thank you so much for everything you’ve given me.” Ahyeon pecks your cheek as the both of you exchange laughs, Asa watching over and swooning over the beautiful sight of wholesomeness in the middle of such sinful filth. “Maybe it’s time for Asa’s load—she deserves one too.”
Damn right. After all, you’re dying to fill Asa up since this whole hellhole has let loose. Ever so subtly, the older girl grasps your wrists and slowly pins you down and onto the mattress, letting her frame straddle over you as she removes her heels in an instant and onto the floor, and so is her skirt.
“God, Asa’s really hot, daddy, isn’t she?” You nodded frantically, a rhetorical question at this point as every curve of Asa is perfection and of course, your attention averts towards the inviting piercing on her navel. You tease it as your hands approach her pussy, already glistening in wetness as she grinds you repeatedly.
“Gonna drain you so good, babe—fuck, can’t wait for this to get inside me, fuck.” If she promises that then she will because after all, her figure alone sends you into total hardness again and would gladly deposit every ounce left in your reservoir.
Asa doesn’t tease further, not because she can’t but because she won’t, and your inviting cock is the reason. She does what she’s best at, sinking in deep at your length as her hands press down on your chest for better support, a leverage for the gratifying feeling she’s already experiencing. Her head tilts down, as she bites her lip, every inch overwhelming her to a certain degree yet she fights it, grinding onto you and starting at a leisure pace. She gets herself accustomed to you, bouncing herself up and down as your hands find her hips, grasping on them and supporting her.
“Fuck—babe, you feel so fucking good!” Asa bites her lip as her wetness envelops you, the sounds of squelching and bodies clapping, writing a symphony in your ears. It’s purely melodic, not to mention with the way she moans, eargasmically divine and filthy—it’s just the best amalgamation of sounds a person can probably hear, and it’s turning you on a lot more.
“Fucking tight—always so tight for me, hm, baby?”
“God, yes! You c-can’t blame me, babe—argh, fuck!” Asa keeps slurring, cacophonous sounds ringing your ear as she elevates the pace, eager to deliver mutual amounts of pleasure. It’s just a monumental sight to see Asa’s frame bounce on your cock repeatedly, thighs and her abs flexing every time she does so but there’s one thing that is missing right at this moment.
Asa, as the clever girl she is, notices what’s the anomaly in this situation. “Guess you want to see my tits, no?”
Your hands roam on her slender waist, appreciating every inch as she smiles seductively when you do so, then roaming your hands onto her clothed tits, pulling her tie down to keep her close to you, “I always wanna see your tits, baby—strip for me, please.”
She obliges wholeheartedly, working on your cock as she undresses every fabric on her body that masks her beauty. Everything is flawless, like a well-orchestrated dance as she skillfully removes everything without stopping her body on your length, and that sight alone is seductive enough that it drives you crazy. It’s not like a hot girl like Asa rides you while stripping herself and putting on a show, so you’re grateful with what she can play with because in everything she is able to do, you’re marveling at it most of the time.
“God, Asa, baby—you look so fucking good.” Asa blushes with your compliment, her hands finding your shoulders as she leans down on your frame, initiating a kiss before you absolutely worship such perfection.
“You too, daddy—god y-your cock always feel so good.” Asa keeps her pace, directing your hand on her sizable tits as you fondle them, teasing those taut nipples which earned such beautiful moans out of her.
“Wish daddy could play with my tits like that…” Ahyeon’s faint voice bounces off in the distance, steadily watching the both of you as her fingers play with herself. It must be selfish to ignore her because your mind is clouded with Asa and her only at the moment but as you said, you’re never leaving Ahyeon behind despite the utmost attention Asa has garnered.
Asa continues to ride you as her hand roams around your chest, now averting her attention towards the lonely, needy Ahyeon at the distance. “Come here, princess—I can play with it if you want.”
Ahyeon’s eyes lightened up, piqued at Asa’s proposal as the younger girl finally got rid of such disheveled clothing, hastily going up and straddling at your abdomen, supporting her lithe frame as her ass rests at your torso. It feels illegal to not see the hot figure of Asa grinding on you, seeing how well her pussy hugs you but you wouldn’t complain—after all, there’s not much competition or anything similar, letting them do whatever they want to do because you love them and they needed it too as much as you needed them after all of these weeks.
You run your hands over Ahyeon’s slender, hourglass waist, her toned back flexing every time Asa plays with her is phenomenal, not to mention the moans Ahyeon orchestrates whenever Asa pinches her taut buds, her sensitivity off the roof. You're just imagining how great Asa would look bouncing on your cock at a moderate pace, closing your eyes as you savor every second of her tight cunt enveloping you. You did thrust upwards a little, your strength fighting their weight as Asa shakes with the magnitude of pleasure coursing in every inch of her body, Ahyeon making sure she’s experiencing the utmost elation, playing with her perfect;y-sized mounds as teasing the taut nipple with her fingers.
You can just hear how sloppy they sound apart from the squelching of Asa’s pussy—their lips dancing around, pulling each other’s frame to a sloppy kiss as they battle each other with how their hands pleasure each other. It’s all a perfectly organized discord, their ebullient noises of gratification is making you throb even more and their bodies clashing to each other being a culprit on how pornographic the sight is.
This alone will be etched in your memory, and you fucking love every second of it.
You trace Ahyeon’s sweaty back, every inch of its perfection and up to the curve of her butt which you truly appreciate, earning more muffled moans out of the younger girl. They make out for at least a hot minute which you’re glad to be an audience for despite such an awkward view—either way, you can imagine it in your head and that will suffice.
Even with a certain degree of absolute mayhem between the two, Asa can’t hide the fact that she wants you for herself, being vocal about it as Ahyeon respects it, after all, you’ve had the younger girl for yesterday and earlier with a godly morning blowjob—a great breakfast down her throat is a plus.
“Hope daddy’s not too exhausted yet—the sun has barely set.” It’s pretty amazing how a supposedly innocent girl is so bold with her words, and how she’s acting that she isn’t exhausted herself from the pounding she took earlier. Yet, in all honesty, you really should have more energy stored because you want more from them and you need to be prepared for what they may have in store.
“Guess going to the gym has perks, huh, princess?”
“Guess so, daddy—Asa can vouch.”
Asa struggles to answer, grasping it the second time as the euphoria of your cock repeatedly impaling her cunt takes up a toll on her. “God, y-yes—our cardio’s getting insane, so, I h-hope you can keep up, babe—god, you feel so good!”
Of course you will and will try to, even if it makes you pass out—you’re so down bad for them that you will do anything for them.
Asa’s thighs buckle as her pussy wets onto the vicinity of your cock, the sheets and your hands, which is one of the culprits on how near her euphoric high will be. She seems to get tighter in each minute, which earns more guttural moans from you and that harsher grip on her hips. She’s just riding it out as she’s dangerously near, getting out with the pain you’re inflicting as you hold her frame with your arms, wrapping it on her waist and helping her chase what she needs.
She’s creaming and you’re fucking her through it, truly earth-shattering in each second that passes.
“Fuck, babe!” That was the green light, screaming her orgasmic elation as she buries her head onto your chest, holding her hands as she leaks like a faucet, forming rivulets of her juices on your thighs and the soaked sheets below (it’s not just the sheets, you’re buying a new fucking mattress after this night).
“Good girl, Asa—baby, you’re taking me so well, cum for me—all for me.” That’s your supporting role, stroking her hair and she whimpers against your chest, letting everything out as you keep your pace steady for her to handle. Her hips seems to fuck you still, impaling herself as she chases more of you, her libido in all time high as she needs you to do what you’ve promised her.
You became distracted with the sight of Asa cumming that you never noticed that Ahyeon was out of your sight, possibly in the bathroom preparing something. That sparks a little concern because you know she loves to watch this badly, but there’s nothing to be stressed about when Asa’s velvety walls are practically begging for your load.
“Please cum in me—please c-cum in me, daddy—please fucking do—please…” Asa’s begging for you, enough to fully submit to your control as you can’t resist not doing anything than just spurting it all inside her.
Still with all your might, you switched positions with her which earns a gasp from Asa, getting on top of her as you smirk, letting her know about the final blow she’ll take.
There were no words to amplify the mood or to tease her, but your head is into the task that you’ve become borderline demonic—pounding her tight cunt with a velocity unparalleled, letting herself out of the condescending nature of hers and into submission, which she inevitably does. You keep fucking her until your hips give out, letting her legs wrap around your waist and let herself lock onto you, fulfilling what’s needed to be done as you’re dangerously near.
“Please—inside me, daddy.” Asa’s other hand pulls you into a deep, passionate kiss, now turning into something similar of lovemaking as your other hand supports her ass, fucking her deep and thorough as you’re clouding her mind as much as she’s doing it to yours. “I love you so much.”
“I love you too, Asa. Love you so much” You pull her into another kiss, Asa eagerly reciprocates as she pulls out, wanting to see your face as you make love to her. “I’m gonna cum in you now.”
That’s a gentle reminder but there’s nothing gentle with the way you’re pounding her—pistoning your hips into overdrive as Asa screams in pleasure, burying her head onto your shoulders as she can feel it.
You’re cumming all over, and it’s filthy and it’s perfect. Every inch of her walls is being painted white, every spurt being fucked deeper and deeper as the two of you entangle into another kiss, the elation converting onto something so spectacular—like, something so surreal.
It was a hot, ephemeral moment of delight, numerous spurts deposited inside her as she tells you how much she’s grateful for this as you tell her the same, making this moment something special and out of the ordinary sex sessions you’ve had with her.
“God, it’s so w-warm, daddy—oh my… That w-was so good…” Asa keeps kissing your lips, then your neck as she smiles ever so slightly, utterly satisfied with what you’ve given her. “Thank you so much for this—I’ve missed this.”
“I did miss this too—thank you for everything, Asa. This was—hah, really great and you took me so well”
Asa blushes with your compliment, then cups your cheeks, painting that longing expression of yearning and love, tearing up as she feels emotional being with you and this close, again. “Please stay like this, daddy—it feels so good.”
You wholeheartedly agree, never wanting to pull out as the feeling was paramount, walking on cloud nine. “I will, even with just a little while, love.”
Asa smiles with that, pecking onto her lips again and eager for another exchange, repeatedly murmuring how much you’ve missed each other as both your lips satiate each other’s hunger for each other that never ends. The both of you chuckle when you pull out of her lips’ embrace, as a familiar voice calls the both of you in the distance.
“Two lovebirds! I’m still here!” Ahyeon playfully crashes the party, both of your faces averting towards her as Asa laughs at you and rests her head onto your shoulder.
“Sorry, princess—got lost there because of Asa. She really wanted me to cum deep in her so much that she became too submissive.”
Asa glares at you satirically, you laughing in response because of the face she made as you pull out of her snug pussy, earning a whine from her but she’s ultimately understanding why—as much as you want to keep it all inside her, you won’t keep yourself buried for long as the three of you will be occupied to do something else.
“Yah, I wasn’t that subby though—just loved it all inside me, that’s all.” Asa denying is just so adorable that you can’t help but stare so lovingly at her again, meanwhile Ahyeon was not buying that excuse of Asa, which Asa takes as something that is considered to be annoying.
“Pfft, whatever.” Asa rolls her eyes on Ahyeon, making sure she sees it as you chuckle with their dynamic.
“Guess we’re going for a round three, daddy?”
This girl is just insane, the both of them really are (in a good way). As much as you wanna do another one, you think to yourself that you need some time to recover and possibly, clean up the mess the three of you made to your own bodies.
“Okay, can we just clean up ourselves first, no?”
Asa feels like this is a call of something else, because what good would that do if the three of you are still going to indulge in filth yet again. “Won’t that be too worthless? We’re gonna get dirty anyways if—”
“Please, Asa?” You’re pleading and that side of yours is baffling as Asa likes it and Ahyeon, giggling and biting her lip, a bystander on what’s going to unfold. “Everything’s going to be better when you’re neat, duh.”
Well, you have a point and Ahyeon’s quick to notice that, letting you know that she’ll fire up the bathtub as Asa looks at you, sitting next to you on the bed. “We’re going to get ourselves clean, okay, babe? We’re not fucking there…”
You nodded, promising that as you sigh deeply, feeling satisfied for what just happened. You may break what you’ve promised but one thing’s for sure: both of your girls will love you for whatever you do.
Get ourselves clean, alright—that’s the right headspace, genuinely
Yet, your mind is clouded with another thought.
It wouldn’t hurt to try something, right?
---
Yeah, you lied. Nothing surprising, in all honesty.
That thought was inevitable and bound to happen, as you gave them a nice, warm facial as water mixes into your final blow. Their faces paint that familiar satisfaction, gleeful and thankful to possibly your last load for the day, laying waste on their perfect faces.
“Thank you, daddy.” Ahyeon kisses your tip, stroking you slowly as she wrings out every ounce of load stored in you, as Asa kisses your balls and your length.
“Guess you broke the promise, babe.”
“Can’t help it—not when two beautiful girls are blowing me eagerly, hm.” Asa can’t blame you as the insatiability is mutual, the feisty need to still deposit what you can somewhere lingers within you.
The bath is near full, and the three of you know better than this and not just shoot ropes of cum on their faces and taste it lewdly.
“Okay, let’s genuinely clean up.” You couldn’t agree more with that.
“We really should.”
---
This time, the three of you refrain from doing such debauchery and be productive for at least an hour, cleaning up and preparing yourselves to be as neat yet simple for each other.
Well, genuinely, it wouldn’t matter if the three of you isn’t too invested on each other’s looks since all of you are comfortable in your place, but their simple beauty and etiquette is enough, even with such nasty sex that will eventually come—you know them enough to make that assumption lies towards the truth.
Yet right now, it’s just the best to enjoy the remaining hours of the day on such a wholesome note and what better way to do it is preparing them some delicious meals and a great movie session. It was a chaotic time with Asa when it comes to preparing the meals but it’s genuinely helpful even with the chaos that still happens—not to mention that you almost had a bruise handling a pot full of tteokbokki because of your clumsiness.
“I think we should’ve just ordered some food, babe.”
“Oh come on, really?” You’re in disbelief, feeling betrayed after exerting all of this effort with Asa. “We didn’t just do all this for nothing, baby.”
“I was thinking of some pizza just to add up here, that’s all.” Asa playfully hits your shoulder, her tone reassuring you that what you’re thinking isn’t her true intention. “After all, I really think we did a great job.”
You chuckle as Ahyeon’s voice calls you in the distance, stopping what you’re doing to avert your attention to hers.
“What is it, Ahyeon-ah?”
“What genre do the two of you wanna watch?” She asks, staring at your eyes and pouting, anticipating an answer.
“Maybe some drama or romance can do—oh, maybe even horror, no?”
“Daddy!” You really love teasing Ahyeon with those, knowing how cute and pretty she is to the point that you’re incredibly swooning over her, the dear on those instilled as you say those words of terror. “Please not that—anything else?”
“Romance can do, Ahyeon-ie.” Asa answers her question, knowing damn well that you’d tease her until it gets annoying. “Also, can I have him for a moment? We’ll be fast.”
“Okay!” Ahyeon cheerfully answers as the younger girl returns to finding specific movies that can favor anyone’s taste, and Asa grabbing you by the wrist and drawing you out and towards the balcony.
“Hey, I’m still not done with the food, baby—what’s the matter?”
“I wanna tell something to you and you only.” She looks at the horizon and then flashes that familiar smile of hers. “I know this may sound pretty selfish but can you and I just be on my birthday? Like no one else?”
That piques your interest but never surprised—in this relationship, it’s just explainable on how clingy she is towards you, and even Ahyeon shows the same feeling towards you yesterday. Knowing how fair it sounds since Ahyeon had you all by herself yesterday, you nod which signals that you’re agreeing to what Asa proposes.
“Just so you know, you two are really greedy. Like, it’s unimaginable, y’know?”
Asa chuckles, fixing her hair as she places her arms on your shoulders, feeling her minty scent brushing on your lips. “We really are—but thank you, babe. This night was great, can’t wait for what you have on my birthday.”
Technically, the night isn’t over but you’re thankful in the same way—the bond, gifts, fun, silliness and the sex, all of it is worth cherishing. You smile as you voice your sincere gratefulness which makes her feel the genuine love in her veins, her eyes glistening with yearning and about you.
Time feels slow as you come back to your senses after a few seconds, knowing the both of you needed to do something and not leave Ahyeon alone there (she’ll sulk if you disregard her, and you think that’s pretty cute).
“Alright, I gotta prepare the meals, baby.”
“And let me order some pizza for us.”
“Really?” That’s another annoyed face of yours, playfully showcasing your disappointment again which plays with her feelings a little.
“What? Come on, babe—please? It’s just fair to treat you after all you’ve done…” Her pouts and that cute face whenever she pleads for something is your kryptonite, and you have no choice but to agree.
“Alright, as long as it’s not as big as the one you ordered last time.”
“Don’t worry, babe.” Asa chuckles as she reminisces that moment where you almost puke for challenging her that you can finish at least seven slices, which you deeply regret. “Not letting you do that again.”
You pull away from her embrace, then continue your dorky attitude towards her, the usual banter reverberating between the two of you as you’re satirical with the way you glared at her, going in and doing your own chores and responsibilities.
Surely, maybe the three of you could go and fuck each other and make a mess somewhere in your place or go out and have some late night bonding sessions where you’ll truly cherish the night but one thing’s for sure: this was just the first part of what could be the best week of your entire life, and you’re calling it.
Swear to god, you still need them—you really fucking do as the spell they casted on you feels unending, and you’re drowning in that for the rest of your life.
---
A/N: this is probably a new way to enter author notes coz' i feel this fits more LOL. but anyway, hope y'all enjoy this pretty sloppy fic of mine—really did my best to make it as close on asa's birthday but i failed :( but it's fine! happy reading and this a belated birthday fic for the talented enami asa <3
gummygunk
prguitarman
yousharknotpass
pixelskylines
tangentwithtanner
