Work Text:
It all starts with an Instagram bio.
Chaeyoung’s in the middle of cursing her AP Stats teacher for assigning a ten page take home test (seriously, and over a three day weekend nonetheless) when she gets a call from Jiwon.
“If you’re asking for the Stats answers, you’ve come to the wrong person.”
“No, dumbass. You think I started that yet? No way. I’m calling to tell you to go check Nakyung’s Instagram.”
Chaeyoung scoffs. “So I can look at seven of the exact same selfie where she tries too hard to show off how good her new hair looks? No thanks, I see enough of her face everyday. Plus with that dye color she looks like the Korean flag.”
It’s almost like she can feel Jiwon roll her eyes over the phone. “Just go look.”
So she does, even though she’s annoyed she’ll have to go look at Nakyung’s face when she doesn’t have to. At first she doesn’t understand why Jiwon even had her do this—Nakyung’s profile picture is still the same annoying selfie, and she still has an annoyingly large amount of followers (she’s way too popular, for reasons Chaeyoung doesn’t understand)—but as soon as Chaeyoung’s eyes flick down to Nakyung’s bio, she understand. Oh, she understands.
fromis high ‘20♡mock trial captain is what she sees in front of her.
Oh hell no, Chaeyoung thinks to herself.
Clicking open the calls tab on her phone, she returns to her conversation with Jiwon, fuming. “What the hell is she thinking? Heechul promised me that spot. Who does she think she is? So popular that she can stomp on whoever she wants to get whatever she wants? No, not in my house. You don’t mess with Lee Chaeyoung and get away with it. The next time I see her face I swear—,”
“Calm down, Chaeng. You can’t just start going at her when you see her at school on Tuesday.”
Chaeyoung huffs. “But...I could.”
Jiwon sighs so dramatically Chaeyoung has to roll her eyes, despite Jiwon being obviously unable to see her. “Talk to her at school like a normal, civil person, because if you punch her you definitely won’t be captain.”
It’s almost like Jiwon has a point, which makes Chaeyoung purse her lips glumly. “Fine. I won’t. But if that bitch tries me, so help me God—”
And Jiwon’s hung up.
After throwing her phone onto the bed, Chaeyoung plops down beside it. Of course it had to be Lee Nakyung, the bane of her existence for the entirety of her high school career, fighting with her for this spot. Stupid Lee Nakyung and her stupid pretty face that gets her anything she wants and makes everyone at school, teachers and students alike, love her.
Chaeyoung lets out a deep, overdramatic sigh for exactly no one to hear. Just a few more days, she thinks, then Lee Nakyung is going down.
It's at lunch the next school week when the showdown begins.
Chaeyoung’s standing in the line for walking tacos (her favorite) when Jiwon almost crashes directly into her.
“Dumbass, don’t make me spill my mil—,” she starts, when she’s interrupted.
“Nakyung’s over there. She heard about you being mad and now she’s gonna come talk to you about the captain thing. Hnngh.” Jiwon says as she bends over to lean on her knees, panting. “I ran all the way from the chem lab to tell you before she got to you.”
Chaeyoung blinks. Stands and thinks for a second. “What the fuck. How’d she even know about any of this? I didn’t tell anybody except for—,”
She turns to face Jiwon, narrows her eyes. “Wait a second.”
Jiwon manages to look guilty, for what it’s worth. “I, um. May have been talking to Hayoung about it in AP Chem. And my voice may or may not have been a bit too loud. And Nakyung may or may not have overheard us, and, uh. Got a little pissed off.”
Chaeyoung’s too busy deciding whether she should be more mad at Jiwon or Nakyung right now to notice that the girl in question is standing behind her. “Hey,” says Nakyung, arms crossed, as insufferable as usual.
Chaeyoung narrows her eyes again, mirrors the pose. “Hey.”
Nakyung clears her throat. “So I heard something about you earlier, something—interesting.”
“Oh yeah? And what’s that?” because Chaeyoung kind of wants to piss her off more.
Nakyung rolls her eyes, lips tighten. “Don’t play dumb with me. We both know what I’m talking about.” She steps closer, and Chaeyoung feels as if she’s supposed to be intimidated.
Chaeyoung just keeps her arms crossed against her chest, eyes steady and unwavering. “That captainship is mine.”
Nakyung laughs. “Says who?”
“Says Coach Heechul, that’s who. I was promised that captainship and you’re not gonna take it away from me.”
At this point they’re still in the lunch line but have stood still arguing for so long that people have started moving around them, like water flowing over rocks. Jiwon is at Chaeyoung’s side, ever the supporting best friend, staring wide eyed at the encounter.
After Chaeyoung says that, she can see gears in Nakyung’s mind halt. Or whir. She can’t really tell that much with Nakyung, not that she cares too much.
“But...he told me the same thing. Which means…”
Chaeyoung thinks of the possibilities and groans. “...he’s an idiot. We’ve gotta talk to him sometime. Because I am not spending my junior year without being captain, and especially not under you.”
Nakyung seems affronted. “Hey, it’s not like I wanna spend mine with you as captain. At least I know something about debate.”
Oh, this bitch did not just go there. “I’ve won best attorney in my room for the past two years I’ve been on the team, just so you know. So maybe I do know a little something, instead of just trying to look pretty and get people to like me so they support me.”
“Excuse me? People like me because I’m likable, which you wouldn’t know much about. Would it kill you to smile every once in a while? Thank god I’ve never had to be co-attorneys with you, or else we would’ve spent half the time trying to get you to open your mouth without looking like you’re baring your fangs.”
That’s it, Chaeyoung decides, and steps up to show Nakyung what she’s made of. A body slams into hers before she can, and Jiwon’s arms tighten around her to prevent them from swinging, dragging her away from the lunch line and Nakyung, standing pissed.
“This isn’t over, bitch. Tomorrow after school, Heechul’s room, we’re meeting to talk to him about it. If you aren’t there I’m telling everyone you’re an EXP stan and dropped out to head their fan club.”
And with that they’re gone, Jiwon still dragging her away (she’s surprisingly strong, all those years of crew paying off) until Nakyung and her stupid perfect face are out of sight.
After arriving home after school and throwing her bag and coat on a chair, Chaeyoung plops down on her bed face first and yells into her pillow. This was supposed to be her confrontation, not Nakyung’s: Chaeyoung was supposed to be the one with control, but once again, it was taken from her. And the worst thing was, at the end of it all, she didn’t even get her walking tacos—she ended up in the auditorium with Jiwon, with whom she shared half of a sandwich, eating so irritatedly Jiwon had to tell her to stop. And so now she’s angry, frustrated, and hungry, and to top it all off her parents are out at a work party (there’s a note on her fridge telling her to figure out dinner herself), with no food in her house.
So she does what any bored, famished high schooler would’ve done: gets in her car, plays Melodrama by Lorde on full volume to express her anguish, and drives to Chick-fil-A.
When she gets to the parking lot, sky dark, pavement lit only by the occasionally flickering street lamps, she almost makes the decision to go through the drive-thru but decides against it last minute—there’s barely anyone else in the lot, and Chaeyoung gets just a little of a murdery vibe with lack of light. So she waits until the last chord of Green Light plays and opens her car door, stepping out onto the black ground and towards the small restaurant.
There are three other people inside when Chaeyoung opens the door to the Chick-fil-A: a middle-aged man squinting at his phone and an elderly couple, quietly eating their chicken sandwiches in each other’s company. As she places her order (spicy chicken sandwich, cup of iced tea) the door jingles open, and a body slides up next to her at the line.
Chaeyoung doesn’t look over—she’d rather play word games on her phone than deal with awkward eye contact with a stranger, but she feels the person next to her shift, hears a tiny, “oh?” and...just her luck.
So Lee Nakyung is haunting her, apparently. It had literally been 5 hours since she'd seen her last (AP World, where they’d gone over the Holy Roman Empire and Chaeyoung had doodled rainbows all over her notes) and she's face to face with her once again. This day has to be a nightmare, Chaeyoung decides, but pinching her arm brings her nothing but a jolt of pain, a sharp Ow, and a very weirded out Nakyung.
“Um,” says Nakyung, “why'd you do that.”
Her eyes roll into the back of her head before Chaeyoung responds: “I was hoping this would all be a dream and you’d evaporate as soon as I woke up, but apparently you’re real or something.”
“Thanks. It’s exactly like I want to be here sharing my Friday night dinner with you too.”
Why’s she here anyway? She knows for a fact that Nakyung’s parents are home (she saw them at the back to school mixer a few days ago), and it’s not like Nakyung’s one to eat fast food all the time (as the girls’ tennis team captain it’s not like she can slack off much, even though Chaeyoung’s eating habits are undoubtedly questionable and she’s running for dance captain).
It’s like Nakyung can tell what she’s thinking, because she says, “We had a fall sports banquet, and I didn’t get to eat because I was an organizer and had to fix a, um, catering fiasco.”
Of course she’s an organizer for the athletic department’s events, too. And she just couldn’t let Chaeyoung have the Mock Trial presidency? Whatever, doesn’t matter anyways.
“Well, I’m glad you have taste in your fast-food choices. Even if they hate the gays or whatever.”
Nakyung laughs, surprisingly; she never thought she’d hear her laugh at anything Chaeyoung’s said not out of malice. “I just try to ignore the fact that the CEOs would hate me eating here because, like, fuck the system. Also the chicken is honestly too good to pass up.”
The CEO would hate me eating here? Does that mean…?
Before Chaeyoung has time to dwell on it, the Chick-fil-A employee rings up the other girl’s order, and Chaeyoung feels the air around her move as she walks past her briskly, once there, then to the door. “See you tomorrow.” she throws out behind her shoulder. She turns her head for just a split second towards Chaeyoung, and it’s enough for plausible deniability, but Chaeyoung notices it nonetheless.
And then she’s gone, and Chaeyoung stands there for a second before grabbing her newly brought out sandwich, and heads to an empty booth.
That was...strange. She tries to stop her mind from drifting to what Nakyung said earlier, but instead thinks about the relationships she’s had in the past—Hwang Hyunjin in freshman year, then a brief courtship with Bae Jinyoung around homecoming season sophomore year, but maybe there was something she didn’t see? Like how close she had gotten to Park Siyeon last winter (which she’d only known because of Ryujin’s endless crush on the older girl), where they’d spend every lunch together in the library or on the roof—was that really all it seemed?
Okay, she’s done thinking about this and instead directs her emotions towards being angry at Nakyung once again. Mock trial. Captain. Bitch. Okay, there, she thinks. After school tomorrow she’ll be ready to go at her once again.
With Nakyung still lining her mind, she throws out the remaining packaging from her just-eaten sandwich and heads back out to her car. As she drives home, Lorde’s voice haunting in the background, she wonders how easy this is going to be.
For some damn reason, Jiwon won’t stop playing cowboy music on the way to school after Chaeyoung picks her up the next morning.
“It’s hoe-down day,” sing-songs Jiwon for the third time this morning, and Chaeyoung’s eyes roll to match it as she pulls into the driveway of Seoyeon and Hayoung’s apartment complex. Maybe she has an eye-rolling problem, but she doesn’t really care.
“Just because we’re going to talk it out with Heechul together doesn’t mean we’re having a yeehaw throwdown,” and she sees the two seniors follow each other out of the apartment’s front door.
The four of them met each other because of their proximity: they all grew up in the very apartment complex that stands in front of her, and used to walk to school together every day until middle school, when the older girl went to the high school and Jiwon and Chaeyoung’s families found homes in a close by neighborhood, closer to their jobs.
“What’s popping?” says Seoyeon as she climbs in. “Let’s go get iced lattes,” says Hayoung at the same time.
“You’re gonna need the caffeine for your confrontation today, Chaeyoung-ie,” Jiwon exclaims gleefully. Chaeyoung glares, and puts her car in reverse.
“Fine. We’re not stopping by Starbucks, though. Their coffee tastes like burnt bean water.”
Chaeyoung’s finally convinced Jiwon to turn off the yeehaw music by the time they get to school, coffee in hand. They walk in together, stop by their lockers to meet up Yeji and Son Chaeyoung, and head to the commons.
“Look at her, always surrounded by her adoring fans.”
“I mean, with a face like that, no one can even question why she’s always mobbed every morning like this.”
Chaeyoung internally groans; she doesn’t even need to look up to see who they’re talking about. “Can you guys be quiet—I don’t want to have to think about her more than I need to. I’ll already have to deal with her later, and that’s too much Nakyung for one day.”
Glancing up, Seoyeon and Hayoung share a look visibly. “What?”
Seoyeon smirks. “Oh, nothing. Just your obsession with Lee Nakyung.”
Obsession? With Lee Nakyung? The girl she’s hated since freshman year? “The hell are you guys talking about? You think I’m obsessed with her?”
It’s Hayoung who speaks up this time. “We don’t think you’re obsessed with her. We know you’re obsessed with her.”
“You kind of talk about her and how pretty she is and how stupid she is and how much you hate her like, all the time. Like, twenty-four seven,” adds Seoyeon.
Sputtering, Chaeyoung is at a loss for words. “I—no—but I hate her.”
“You know, there’s a thin line between love and hate,”
“A very thin line,”
“So thin you can barely see it,” finishes Seoyeon. “Especially with you.”
“It’s true,” chimes Big Chaeyoung, “it’s really not that hard to see, either.”
Chaeyoung turns to Yeji for help, but she just shrugs in agreement. Great. Now they all think she’s in love with Nakyung. Absolutely no way; in no universe would that ever be a reality—you couldn’t even pay her for that to happen.
She drops her head against the table. “I hate you all,” she grumbles, and waits for the rest of the day to pass.
After the last bell, Chaeyoung steels herself, and walks out of her history class and into the hallway swarming with students. Her legs carry her across the math wing, through the cafeteria, and all the way to the end of the history wing, where Heechul sets up shop after school.
Deep breath, then into the classroom, where Nakyung’s already waiting for her. Dammit, why couldn’t she have been early for once? Heechul’s sitting at the desk in front of them, wearing a sheepish expression.
Chaeyoung sits down, and he begins talking. “So, I’ve heard about your...disagreement.”
Nakyung and Chaeyoung share a look. Disagreement doesn’t fully encapsulate the situation, and they both know it.
“I, uh, may have forgotten I promised the captainship to both of you at separate times, but. That’s only a compliment to you both—both of you are such excellent members of the team that I thought you both would be perfect to lead your fellow classmates next year!”
Chaeyoung knits her brow in wait. “So...who gets to be captain then?”
Heechul looks like he’s about to break into a cold sweat; both of the girls sitting in front of him are strong and terrifying, and he knows it. “Well...I was hoping you two could figure it out yourself.”
They sit there in silence for a full thirty seconds before breaking out in raucous argument.
“But you promised me first—” “How can you tell both of us we’d get it?” “I need this for my applications—” “I can’t talk to her—”
“Hey!” yells Heechul. “I need you two to work it out together, okay? Or neither of you are going to be captain at all.”
Chaeyoung grinds her teeth. “This is so unfair, but fine. Nakyung, meet me tonight at the cafe near my house.”
“Why are you always the one who gets to call meetings,” complains Nakyung, before nodding in agreement, and Chaeyoung shakes her head, stands up, and walks out without saying anything else.
Their meeting at the cafe that night was decidedly unproductive; Chaeyoung showed up at seven sharp, and Nakyung was there waiting, as always. They discussed the actual presidency for about a minute before breaking out, once again, into argument, and then decided to table the discussion for the day after when one of the baristas threatened to kick them out if they didn’t stop.
(“This isn’t over,” says Nakyung.
“I know—it won’t be over until I’m called as captain.” says Chaeyoung, before walking out. Ha. She finally got the last word.)
They try again to meet, argue this time for thirty minutes until it’s the librarian, this time, who threatens to kick them out, and leave fuming once more. There’s no way in hell Chaeyoung’s going to let Nakyung lead the team when it should be her as president, and especially in her junior year. So she fights Nakyung every time they meet with as much ferocity as she can muster, and to no avail, every single time—the other girl is way too stubborn to give up, and it’s obvious this tenacious hold she has on the same position isn’t going to give anytime soon.
So they keep meeting over and over until Chaeyoung’s sure one of them will break, and it won’t be her.
It all finally culminates two weeks later: Chaeyoung’s just got her food and has just set down her tray when she feels a dark energy in her presence.
“Lee Chaeyoung, who the hell do you think you are?”
Dammit. Why does Nakyung always have to interrupt her as she’s about to eat?
“Exactly who you said I am, princess.”
That wasn’t the correct thing to say, apparently, because Nakyung swipes the fork out of her hand just as she’s about to take a bite. “Hey!” exclaims Chaeyoung, suddenly angry. “You can yell at me all you want, but don’t get between me and my mac ‘n’ cheese.”
“Screw your mac ‘n’ cheese. You’ve seriously been telling people you’re captain and not to listen to me now? Are you for real?”
Oh yeah, she had been doing that. In all fairness, Chaeyoung thought there was no way Nakyung was going to become captain; she’d been so preoccupied with the tennis team recently that she seemed to have loosened up just a bit on their ongoing battle, and, also, it just seemed fun. Messing with Nakyung is one of Chaeyoung’s favorite hobbies, and she’d feel ashamed if she let an opportunity for such activity to go to waste.
“And what about it? I’m the most capable person to be captain and you know it. Now give me back my fork.”
Nakyung only pulls it further out of reach as Chaeyoung reaches for the tiny, plastic cafeteria fork that comes with every meal. “Stop talking about your stupid pasta. It’s my damn presidency, okay? I’ve carried this team for how many years and now you’re trying to get everyone against me? Really?”
Nah, she’s not for real. “Carried this team? Who seriously spent all their waking hours doing all the research to get us to states last year? Who took the most incompetent partner available and coached them with enough success to win our case?” (Bless Jungkook’s heart, but he was not a capable attorney). Now Chaeyoung’s actually getting angry; Nakyung can’t really be acting as if Chaeyoung’s been slacking when she dedicated all the time she had for the whole fall and winter of her freshman and sophomore years to this team. Maybe Nakyung shares that feeling of love and dedication too, but to act like it doesn’t exist is something else altogether.
“Sure, okay. As if your few hours of work a week could beat all my research and memorization and training. And I did that while taking my doubles team to states during tennis season, winning multiple awards at Model UN, maintaining my 4.5, working a job, and everything else in the world. Don’t even try it.”
They seem to be attracting a bit of attention now; the two of them aren’t quite yelling, but they’re almost there, and she can hear Big Chaeyoung whispering to Yeji about how they need to calm them down before it turns into a full on bitch fight.
“Don’t talk to me as if I haven’t worked just as much as you. You’re just such a self-centered bitch that you can’t see anyone’s efforts outside of your own.”
Nakyung looks positively ready to kill her, and she throws down the plastic fork she’s still holding onto the table, where it bounces off and hits some sophomore they’re sitting near. They’re straight up yelling at this point, and now at least three fourths of the cafeteria are turned towards them, and it reminds Chaeyoung of that scene in Love, Simon where Simon fucks it up in the cafeteria and it’s just a giant mess for everyone.
“I’m a self-centered bitch? Really? Just because I actually have friends and people like me doesn’t mean I’m any of that. Not like you would know.”
Before Chaeyoung gets the chance to absolutely fuck her up, the two of them are interrupted by a booming voice. “HEY—both of you, in my office, now.”
Shit; it’s Principal Park. Nakyung’s face goes white as a sheet, and Chaeyoung would be laughing at it if she weren’t so terrified as well (contrary to her badass persona, she’s not one to break the rules frequently, and has never been sent to the principal’s office in her life).
So she clenches her jaw, gulps, and follows him as they walk through the silent cafeteria and to the administrative wing.
It’s five nervous minutes later when her and Nakyung, seated side by side uncomfortably on the small wooden bench outside the main office, are called into the room. Chaeyoung doesn’t look to the girl at her left and Nakyung does the same, just staring into the wall in front of her as if she could burn holes in it.
They shuffle in and the wave of quiet cold that had fallen over them only freezes further.
“Have a seat, girls.” Chaeyoung gulps. “I want you to know that what I saw today in the cafeteria was out of hand.” There it is; disappointment always tastes worse than anger or beratement.
“We’re sorry. We honestly didn’t mean for anything to get to that level, and we promise it will never happen again.”
“I’m confident it won’t, knowing you two. I don’t have to reprimand you to the degree I’d have to others—you’re some of my hardest working, most responsible students. But the issue at the core of this...spectacle still needs to be solved, or else you’ll keep on fighting forever, and that leads to nowhere. I know Heechul told you to figure the captainship between yourselves, but I’m stepping up and making my own decision.”
Holy shit. This is it—this could make or break the entirety of Chaeyoung’s junior year, and her heart beats nervously in her chest. She has to get it. She has to.
“Both of you are going to be captain, together.”
Time stops.
He’s not serious. He’s not. He can’t be. He’s not. No way.
“T-together?” borderline shrieks Nakyung, and Chaeyoung’s still too stunned to speak.
“Yes,” says their principal back at them, more serious than he’s ever been. “And if I hear one peep of an argument, one sliver of discord, then I’m canceling this whole thing, and someone else is getting the space.”
Shit. Shit. Chaeyoung swallows hard, nods once. “I understand,” is the first and only thing she’s able to say. Nakyung looks at her, between murderous and shocked, and Chaeyoung just grits her teeth at her, hoping the mental message of ‘just suck it up’ is getting across to the other girl.
Eventually Nakyung manages to push the expression off her face, and nods in accordance. “Me too.”
“Great!” says Principal Park, pushing his chair back from the table. “I’m glad we all understand. I hope this is the last time I see you two in here until you graduate. Now, off you go!”
They shuffle out of the room, and Chaeyoung makes sure to bite her tongue until they’re far from the office.
“Just to be clear, I fucking hate you.”
Nakyung clenches her fists, tight. “Do you want me to start fighting you, right here?”
“I meant,” Chaeyoung rolls her eyes, “that I hate you, but we need to work together if we want either of us to keep this spot. I can still put Mock Trial captain on my apps, even if it was a co-presidency, so I need you to not try to murder me everyday so we can actually get this to work.”
Nakyung bites her lip, frowns. Chaeyoung tries not to follow the motion with her eyes. The fuck, Lee? Not now of all times.
“What if I don’t want this to work?”
“Then you’re risking not just my future, but yours too, and everything you’ve worked for for the past two years, so you can either be petty and keep refusing or you can actually put in the minimal effort we’d need to be successful.”
Chaeyoung knows she’s got it on lock now—Nakyung’s a lot of things that Chaeyoung hates, but they both share a burning passion to be the best at whatever they do, and Nakyung’s not going to compromise that over her own emotions. “Okay, fine. You’ve got a deal. Let’s call an all team meeting for next Monday, and Facetime me tonight so we can start planning it. Here’s my number.” And she punches it into Chaeyoung’s phone, right out of her hands. Rude.
Before Nakyung leaves, Chaeyoung stops her. “I—,” Chaeyoung pauses, “We can do this. We just need to try.”
Nakyung nods, turns, and then she’s gone.
“Welcome to Mock Trial, 2019!”
It’s one of the most important days of the year, in Chaeyoung’s opinion: Team Kickoff Day. Well, it’s really just a regular Monday for everyone except these twenty five kids stuffed in the empty conference room on the third floor, but to her it’s still significant to the school and the state and basically the world.
Spread out across the room are students from all walks of life: Yeji, the soccer captain jock; Big Chaeyoung, the emo stoner; Yuri and Jihyo, the choir girls; they couldn’t seem more different in the halls and the classroom, but when they’re all under the marble roof of the municipal courtroom in January, their only distinguishable factors are if they can get the job done or not.
“So, I see a lot of returning faces, but for those who don’t know I’m Chaeyoung, pre—one of the presidents of the team…”
“And I’m Nakyung, president as well. I’m a junior, and you might’ve seen me on the tennis court or helping out around school leading something.”
“Leading something”...what is she so annoying for thinks Chaeyoung, who follows with an, “I’m also a junior, and you’ve probably seen one of my dance crew’s performances around town, or have read one of my articles in the paper.” Whatever.
Nakyung glares. “Anyways, we wanted to welcome you all to the team! If you’re not sure how mock trial works, we’re given a case packet that contains some kind of legal issue, some background case law and constitutional context, and we have to argue it out with competing local schools. We’re sectioned off into however many teams of two attorneys, witnesses, and bailiffs we need, depending on our turnout, and if we all do well whichever team wins the whole thing moves on to the regional competition, and then states, and then nationals. We got to states last year and missed nationals by a smidge, so that’s the goal this year—we’re out for blood.”
“We’ll start by giving you all handouts I made with short descriptions of the case, the backgrounds of each witness, and what the attorneys would argue to help you all make decisions on who you want to ch—,”
“Or,” interrupts Nakyung, “we could start with the slideshow I made giving all of those and showing some helpful instructional videos throughout.”
Is she serious? thinks Chaeyoung, and they just look at each other in some kind of menacing standoff for a few minutes, both unwilling to bend.
It gets kind of awkward after a minute, and Rosie just throws out, “Maybe we could just get both?”
“Hmmph,” says Nakyung, crossing her arms.
“Great idea, Rosé. This is the type of collaborative innovation we want on our team,” says Chaeyoung, glaring again at the girl next to her before continuing to pass out her handouts. She stayed up till one making them, but, like, whatever.
“So, we were thinking—”
“The case is about—”
They stop again; maybe they should’ve planned this yesterday, but Chaeyoung really didn’t want to talk to Nakyung more than she had to.
“Did you guys even discuss this presentation before you gave it?” throws out Mark Tuan.
Chaeyoung glowers at him. “Shut up, Mark. Just read your handout.”
Mark makes an “oh, okay, got it” motion with his face and hands that makes Chaeyoung want to punch him. She can see a few people glancing at each other and towards the door, and she realizes she has to get this back on track soon.
“First slide, okay. So the case is really a fourth amendment issue, and it involves privacy, unnecessarily dramatic townspeople, and drones.” Hopefully some nerd in here likes drones.
Nakyung keeps interrupting her in the middle of the presentation, but it goes a little better from there. At the end, when everyone’s shuffled out of the room after they beg them to keep on the team and do some research, they plop down in the uncomfortable ceramic chairs at the center of the room.
“Okay, so, that was a disaster.”
Chaeyoung chews on her gum, tries to blow a bubble and slightly succeeds.
“I mean, it wasn’t a disaster disaster, just...not particularly successful.”
Nakyung groans, throws her head down into her arms. “We’ll have to work harder.”
Chaeyoung thinks about it for a second, realizes what she has to do, curses in her head, and turns to Nakyung. “We need to, um,”
Nakyung looks at her. “What.”
“We need to not hate each other so much for this to, like, go well.”
“And...how is that going to happen?” Nakyung lets out a slight laugh at that.
“We have to like...actually get to know each other. ”
A pause. Chaeyoung hates every second of this.
“Are you saying we need to become friends?”
Friends? God, no. “No way. We just need to be able to stand being in the same room and talking to each other without insults for a while. Once this season is over you can go back to being a bitch to me and I’ll go back to being innocent and nice, as I always am.”
Ha. She knew that would get Nakyung mad, but as probably one of her last chances to jibe at her she had to take it. “So I’m the bi—okay, you know what, I’m going to ignore that for the sake of the team. But, um...maybe you have a point. I mean, if we’re going to be making plans for every member of the team, we kind of need to be able to talk about it.”
It’s amazing how big Chaeyoung’s brain is to come up with this idea, and how much of a sacrifice she’s making. R.I.P to all of the Nakyung hating she’ll have to give up on until February, or however far they make it. Wait, if they make it to nationals, then she’ll have to be nice to her until, maybe summer. Oh, God. She’s starting to rethink this.
“Do you want to go get dinner later tonight?” Nakyung interrupts her internal monologue.
Chaeyoung blinks, smirks. “Aw, already trying to get me on a date? I’m not that easy, Lee.”
“Shut up. That Italian place near school at 7:30?”
“Sounds good. Now if you’ll excuse me, I have a real date now. With the dance studio, the school’s broken ass speakers, and a bunch of theater kids who don’t know how to dance.” And she walks out of the room, and totally definitely does not think about their not-date later.
It’s 9 p.m. and Chaeyoung’s just been told the best news of her life.
“Shut up,” glares Nakyung. “Stop laughing.”
“But—you—-ahahahahaha,” Chaeyoung bends over. “Fuck.”
They’re at the Italian restaurant Chaeyoung’s only been to once, after their team won districts last year, and she’s just discovered Nakyung’s dirty little secret.
According to the picture Nakyung just showed her accidentally, she used to be the owner of a Minecraft gameplay account. And not just that, but she would make Minecraft art of celebrities.
“This is the best day of my life,” chokes out Chaeyoung. She had only discovered this because of the godsend known as Google Photos; Nakyung had been showing her a picture of some conference she was at or something when her thumb accidentally brushed the screen, leading the page all the way down to the photos from 2012. And Chaeyoung had seen the Minecraft, and took the phone, and clicked, and that was that.
And Nakyung ended up having to explain everything with reluctance (not after threatening Chaeyoung’s life if it ever got out, but nonetheless).
“Oh my god, can I commission one of these from you? Can you please do one of Loona for me? Ooh, or maybe IU.”
“I will do nothing for you ever. My artist days are over, okay?” which just makes Chaeyoung laugh harder.
“Literally what will it take for you to stop laughing and be quiet right now?”
Pretending to contemplate, finger on chin and all, she says “Hmm...you to beat me at one of those arcade games at the place across the street.”
Rolls her eyes, tucks away her phone, “Fine. Let’s go once we finish,” and Chaeyoung squeals with glee.
Nakyung is kind of terrible at arcade games, and it’s hilarious. The basketball game, motorcycle simulator, and one where you match up a light by hitting a button have all bested her, to Nakyung’s continuing frustrating and Chaeyoung’s increasing amusement, and they’ve been here for forty five minutes already, Nakyung spending an inordinate amount of time on literally every single machine.
“You good, Lee?” smirks Chaeyoung, tall frame leaning on the jackpot machine.
“Yes, bitch,” growls Nakyung, eyes and heart clearly focused solely on the game in front of her.
Watching the shorter girl unable to do something so simple is, quite simply, hilarious; Nakyung’s probably the most serious and committed person she knows, but it’s only in stark, specifically assigned settings that she’s seen that level of devotion. But here they are now, some dingy arcade outside of downtown, the girl in front of her gazing so closely at the game in front of her she looks insane.
“GOT IT!” borderline shrieks Nakyung with visible gratification, startling Chaeyoung out of her pensivity.
“Ah, congrats, young grasshopper. You’ve come thus far. But…”
Nakyung narrows her eyes, daunting. “What?”
The smirk grows. “Bet you can’t win me a bear plush.”
Chaeyoung knows that Nakyung’s currently stuck in a frenzy of competition, and when she’s like this she’s prone to agree to anything vaguely challenging her. And Chaeyoung really wants that bear plush, so everything works out, basically. It’s all totally fine and moral.
It was to be expected that the combination of Nakyung’s ineptitude at games and the inherent difficulty of claw machines would not mesh well, but wow, for a tennis player it’s hard to believe her coordination is this bad.
After fifteen minutes Chaeyoung just wants to leave and get ice cream at the corner store, but Nakyung refuses. “I’m winning you this goddamn bear no matter what, just let me focus.” Damn. Okay.
It takes another eleven minutes (Chaeyoung’s counting) for Nakyung to even get close, and by fourteen, she actually gets it, by God.
“YES!” yells Nakyung with obvious pleasure. The bear is pretty cute, Chaeyoung has to admit, and perhaps it was worth waiting all these minutes (more like hours) for it to be won.
“Here you go, co-captain. A token of peace.” And she hands the bear over to the other girl, hands brushing, and Chaeyoung takes it gracefully.
“Thank you, Madam President. It’s quite the honor.”
Watching the girl in front of her, this dumbass, incredibly committed, maybesortacute forever enemy of hers, something starts roiling inside of Chaeyoung, and she doesn’t know if she likes it or not.
So she does what Lee Chaeyoung is the master of, and tries to ignore it entirely. As they walk out of the arcade in search of the corner store Chaeyoung saw, Nakyung, looking at her feet as they move, says, “You know, I had fun tonight.” She looks up, and smiles at the wide-eyed girl next to her.
“I did too,” and Chaeyoung might be blushing but no one can confirm nor deny, so it never happened, “even if it took you half an hour to win me this,” and she holds up the bear.
Nakyung sticks her tongue out. “Okay, but the important part: what are you going to name it?”
“I’m naming it...Egg.”
Nakyung makes a face. “Egg? What kind of name is Egg? I put my blood, sweat, and tears into getting you this bear—he deserves a better name than Egg.”
Huffing, Chaeyoung puts a hand over her heart. “I can’t believe you would insult my taste like this. Fine, to follow your wishes, milady, I’ll name it after his lord and protector; say hello to Lee Nakyung the Second.”
For some reason Nakyung can’t stop laughing at that. “You’re such a dumbass,” but it doesn’t have as much bite as it usually does.
Later that night, when she’s walked Nakyung to her apartment where she parked, she leans against her car as Nakyung makes her way up the steps. The moonlight is hitting her face at an angle that makes her look just the littlest bit ethereal, not that Chaeyoung would ever admit that to anyone. Or herself.
“Thanks for tonight,” says Nakyung, half-smile on her face, and then she’s inside, and Chaeyoung still hasn’t gotten into her car. Throwing her head back against the metal of her CR-V’s frame, she thinks to herself, so this is going to be difficult.
After the day at the arcade, the two of them have seemingly put their differences aside enough to actually be something resembling friends. Or rather acquaintances that have to meet at Starbucks every other day to plan their season and end up driving to Waffle House screaming Hannah Montana songs with the volume on full blast. Or coworkers that occasionally attend each other’s respective team events to show support even though it might not necessarily be strictly mandatory.
Case in point: Chaeyoung decided to go to Nakyung’s tennis districts after she talked for thirty minutes straight about how nervous she was, despite her never having lost a single one throughout high school. Perhaps it wasn’t the best idea; she’d never seen Nakyung in the tennis uniform, and she didn’t quite know how short the uniform skirts were, and also she was alone in a crowdful of students (she would’ve invited Jiwon, but the amount of grilling she would receive over her and Nakyung’s newfound friendship wasn’t worth it).
Although, a few things made up for it; namely the way Nakyung looked right at her when they won, smile huge and blazing, and how when the team split up later she went barreling towards Chaeyoung for a hug, still obviously drunk off the happiness of a big win.
Not that Chaeyoung was complaining, or anything.
It’s gotten just a tiny bit difficult to work with Nakyung now, after they got past their complete and total hatred of each other, most notably because she keeps getting distracted by Nakyung’s hands, or face, or lips. Hm.
Three days after the tennis incident is when she finally has to accept to herself that something’s up. They’re together after school, and it’s around nine or so in the afternoon, and the sun’s almost set, and the room is set up around them with pieces of paper in neat stacks (Nakyung’s side of the table) and jumbled messes (Chaeyoung’s). The deadline they set themselves for finishing analysis sheets of the case is coming up, and they’re flipping through the three hundred page document, making as many notes as they can.
Nakyung’s scribbling something in the margins with vigor, and Chaeyoung’s trying to make out her handwriting when the fire alarm goes off with no warning.
It’s like she can see it happening in slow motion: Nakyung is clearly shocked by the sound, lost in her own head, and Chaeyoung’s bent over her paper, close to the table. Then Nakyung moves, and there’s an elbow, then Chaeyoung’s mouth, and then she’s clutching the bottom half of her face and wonders if it’s blood that she’s tasting.
“Oh my God,” says Nakyung, horrified, the fire alarm forgotten in the background. “Oh, God, I’m sorry. I was just surprised, and—,”
“Hhhn ghh,” says Chaeyoung in response, and it’s meant to be something akin to it’s okay but it certainly doesn’t come out that way.
“I—,” wow, Nakyung is obviously not who she’d call if she ever needed someone quick reacting and proficient at first aid, but she seems to realize that she needs to do something, and runs over to grab some paper towels for Chaeyoung’s mouth.
“Take your hand off your face,” she instructs, and winces at the blood before taking one of the paper towels and dragging it across her chin. This is the closest they’ve ever physically been, Nakyung mere inches from her face, and across Nakyung’s face is written concern and worry and focus and she has to admit that it’s cute, despite this whole situation.
Oh shit. It’s cute. And Nakyung is so close she can see how soft her lips look, and she’s only focused on Chaeyoung’s lips, and Chaeyoung wonders if she’s just feeling exceptionally gay today or Nakyung just came to school today looking prettier.
Okay, this is so not the ideal time to realize she has a crush (ugh) on Lee Nakyung (double ugh), with the other girl so close she could lean in and kiss her if she really, truly wanted to. And to be honest, she kind of does. Except not right now, with her bloody mouth and paper towels all around them.
Nakyung finishes, wiping the last few drops off of her bottom lip. “Okay, I think that’s the last of it. Once again I’m so so sorry, I promise I’ll buy you coffee tomorrow to make up for it, text me later if it’s feeling better.”
And that’s how Chaeyoung knows she’s really, truly fucked.
It’s a problem. Chaeyoung can’t stop thinking about it, or her, or anything. Like the previous night when she was trying to sleep, but then she caught sight of Lee Nakyung the Second (the bear), and then it all looped back around. And then she started thinking about what Seoyeon and Hayoung said that one time, about the line between love and hate being that thin, and then she started wondering how long she’d actually been into Nakyung for, if it was this year or sophomore year or maybe even freshman year, maybe even back when it all started.
“Ugh,” she declared to nobody, hugging Nakyung the Second closer, because to be honest, it was a pretty comfortable little bear.
And then the next day, when Nakyung handed her a stack of papers and their hands brushed and she twitched noticeably, and it was kind of embarrassing but she just tried to play it off like she was cold. Because she’s just cool like that. Obviously.
Anyways, Chaeyoung’s kind of in panic mode now, because everything she knew about life and existence and all that is in ruin. The world is burning from climate change. The government is being held together by the barest of threads. Chaeyoung likes Nakyung. Nothing makes sense anymore.
I’ll tough it out until the end of the season, she decides to herself, then I’ll never have to deal with her again, and all this stupid feeling nonsense will go away.
Chaeyoung’s satisfied enough with that. Just a few more months, she thinks, then it’s done.
Nakyung is in it deep.
Of all the people in the world, of all the options she has, of all of even the students at their school, she has to go and fall for resident dumbass and her biggest rival, Lee Chaeyoung.
Ugh. This is nightmare material.
Well, it’s not the worst per say; Chaeyoung isn’t exactly hard on the eyes, and most of the gay girls continue to thirst after her with good reason (except hearing the volleyball girls talk in math class about how they’d hit that is so annoying), and she’s probably the only person at their school that can most directly match Nakyung’s pace and style.
But, God, why?
She realized somewhat early on that this was all happening, but she was ready to ignore it as hard as she could until she possibly couldn’t. Which, as it turned out, was a lot sooner than she thought, because of the whole principal-making-them-co-captains fiasco.
Not to say that she doesn’t hate Lee Chaeyoung; she still thinks the taller girl is perhaps the most annoying thing the school has ever seen, and everything she’s said to her about her personality and work is true. Well, mostly. Sometimes she plays it up so she won’t get found out, but nevertheless. Stupid Chaeyoung and her stupid cute mac 'n' cheese eating face.
She’s trying to make the best of this Mock Trial situation, but now that they actually have to spend time together, per Chaeyoung’s request, she’s beginning to truly feel the effects that this infatuation is having on her. At least they’re both as committed to the team, Nakyung’s glad for that, but this was truly not in her plans for this year.
What certainly wasn’t in her plans for the year was to even become something close to friends with Chaeyoung, to spend nights together after working at the others’ house, to get dinner at nine in the evening with her every other day. Or to even get to the level where she actively wants to follow what Chaeyoung says, to make her happy.
Sometimes she wonders what Chaeyoung thinks of her. If she really hates her as much as she seems to, or if she’s covering up something underneath, like Nakyung. She can’t tell, truly; sometimes Chaeyoung seems so frustrated with her and this whole situation that Nakyung’s sure it’s impossible that she has any semblance of affection towards her. But other times she sees the way Chaeyoung’s eyes shift when she’s looking at Nakyung’s face, or how she glances down at her lips so subtly Nakyung’s not sure if she even did or not.
Then her brain goes into all the possibilities, because she’s nothing if not the queen of analysis. Would Chaeyoung even like her back? Does Chaeyoung even know she likes girls? What if Chaeyoung did like her back? How would Chaeyoung’s lips feel under hers—
And that’s when she stops, because sometimes possibility is too dangerous to consider.
God, she thinks again. When is this going to end?
They’ve been spending an inordinate amount of time together because of how close away districts is; every day is coffeeshop work sessions, or planning dates at Panera, or evenings spent at school when they want to save money so they can be as prepared as possible. Being so, and being that their schedules are both chock full of outside commitments, they’ve had to improvise the way they meet to work; Chaeyoung picks Nakyung up after tennis, waiting in the parking lot near the courts, and every other day Nakyung walks over to her parked Prius and gets in like it’s her routine, ignoring the way some of her teammates whisper jealously about how lucky she is to be driven by Chaeyoung (why is she so popular with girls? whatever, she thinks, Chaeyoung is her partner, not theirs, so ha). Today is one of the rarer occasions where Nakyung’s in charge of the driving, because Chaeyoung’s busy with a dance team thing or something, so Nakyung leaves her house around two and hits the road.
Nakyung arrives at the studio about five minutes early, and to her frustration, Chaeyoung isn’t waiting in the lobby like she said she’d be.
She pushes open the side door to the room Chaeyoung’s in (room 262, with a huge window on the door, as per Chaeyoung’s text) and stands in front of the wall, waiting until Chaeyoung notices her.
Chaeyoung’s helping choreograph some of the dances for the school musical, but this doesn’t seem to be that; she has on some kind of R&B, bass thumping and heavy, and her body moves along with it.
Nakyung knew how tall Chaeyoung was (it was always a point of annoyance to her—the one thing that the other girl always had over her was her height, which gave her naturally a confidence and ease Nakyung had to work to produce) but she had never noticed it to this extent until now: Chaeyoung seems as if she were born to dance, all long, lithe limbs and legs that seemed to go on forever. And especially in those shorts, showing so much skin it shouldn’t be allowed, and just—ugh.
Every movement Chaeyoung makes is seared into Nakyung’s mind, and she finds herself standing there, completely transfixed, until she hears the music end around her and Chaeyoung stops where she stands, sweating and panting with exertion. She catches her breath and meets Nakyung’s gaze in the mirror—”How’d you like it? Pretty good, right?”
Nakyung simply stands there, words caught in her throat, mind still stuck on what she just saw.
Chaeyoung smirks at her, crosses her arms and shifts her weight to one side, and it shouldn’t be as hot as it is. “What’s the matter with you, Nakko? Cat got your tongue?”
A line of sweat rivers down Chaeyoung’s neck, and Nakyung’s helpless to do anything but follow it down her neck, to her chest, to—
“I—we—I’m gonna, uh, get some water,” stutters Nakyung before dashing out. As soon as the door closes behind her she puts her head in her hands, and leans against the wall outside. Ughhh. What is Lee Chaeyoung doing to her?
She heads over to the water fountain just in case the other girl really does come looking for her, and takes a big gulp of much-needed cold water. Since day one it’s always been Nakyung in charge, Nakyung in control, but ever since Lee Chaeyoung had been introduced into her life that all had changed. When they had first met in high school, Chaeyoung transferring in while Nakyung continuing in the same district she’d always been in, it had been clear that Chaeyoung was a force to be reckoned with, from the first time Nakyung had ever had to deal with that: freshman student council. Nakyung had thought freshman rep would be an easy win, but Chaeyoung had come in and made friends around the grade quicker than she had anticipated, and the race was tight. Her and Chaeyoung fought to the bitter end (if she brought free stickers the other girl would bring cupcakes; if she spread around the word during lunch, the other girl would do it faster through social media), but Chaeyoung was the one to end up with the position once it all was over.
Nakyung had never forgotten that day, when the results were announced; it was the first time she had lost, and publicly so.
Since that day she’s vowed to have nothing to do with Lee Chaeyoung. Her freshman self would be irate at the way she so desperately wants Chaeyoung to push her up against a wall after watching that performance.
Fuck, she thinks, how did it get to here?
She hears footsteps approach her in the hallway, and she stands up, wipes the remaining water from her lips, turns to see Chaeyoung staring with that same annoying smirk.
“You’re a good dancer,” she tries to let out, casual, which she’s sure the other girl sees through.
“You looked like you were enjoying it,” God, why does she have to smile like that? And step closer?
“You know,” suddenly she’s a bit shyer, and it’s a little cute, “if you liked it, you should come to our showcase next week? It’s at the convention center downtown, and I can get you a ticket—”
“I’d love to.” Internally, Nakyung’s kind of screaming, because how’s she going to deal with watching that in a crowd of hundreds?
But anything for Chaeyoung, she supposes.
A grin breaks out onto the taller girl’s face, and Nakyung’s glad she said yes.
“Now let’s go get ice cream before we work!” her face brightened, like a child, and Nakyung just laughs and follows her out.
“Where’s your girlfriend?”
Nakyung roll her eyes. Why does Jiheon have to be the most annoying person in the world sometimes?
“She’s not my girlfriend. At all.”
Jiheon sing songs, “But you wish she was.”
Damn it. She does. But Jiheon can’t know that, so she just brushes her off with a shake of the head and a sigh. “Never in a million years.”
They’re at the convention center, and Chaeyoung had given her four tickets, so she had decided to bring Jiheon, Jisun, and Gyuri, because they were the ones free and willing to go. Apparently asking Jiheon was the wrong choice. This is why nobody likes underclassmen, she thinks.
Jiheon smirks obviously at her. Nakyung ignores it. “Anyways, she’s probably with her team backstage or something, getting prepared. I don’t really know how dance things work, to be honest.”
Chaeyoung had tried to explain it to her at one point, and Nakyung had just stared, further reminded of why she quit dance after two weeks when she was nine. But either way, she didn’t say much, content to just focus on the stars that seemed to appear in Chaeyoung’s eyes whenever she talked about dance.
Jisun and Gyuri join them a few seconds later, a shared box of popcorn between them and a package of red licorice in one hand. They’re waiting for the announcer to get onstage, and to get this whole thing started; she has a few roses in one hand to give to Chaeyoung after the event, and they eye them without saying a word, exchanging a glance. Annoying. At least they didn’t say anything, unlike Jiheon.
The lights dim in a second, and the MC comes on stage to announce the event’s beginning. The music starts and still the team hasn’t come out, until a beat drops and suddenly the lights are on them. They’re an amazing team, Nakyung thinks, finally able to agree with what Chaeyoung tells her constantly; their individual talent shines, but they still work off of each other, and every single aspect of it is perfectly and completely coordinated. Somewhere in her she knows that’s Chaeyoung’s doing, ever the perfectionist, the most conscientious leader she’s met.
The way they move is incredible; Cheng Xiao’s aerial skills bring the audience into stages of gasps and applause, and Momo’s choreography is as precise and powerful as could be. But then Chaeyoung has a solo part, and it’s like nothing else even mattered anymore, because the lights are on her and she’s in that tight black uniform and as she moves her body Nakyung can’t help but follow each section of it with her eyes.
She’s electric; every movement is purposeful and smooth, and Nakyung can see every bit of the blood, sweat, and tears she put into this program. Her face is unchanged, and she looks scarily serene up on the stage, everyone in the room’s gazes glued to her.
Scanning the audience, her eyes lock with Nakyung’s; she goes into a sequence where she’s going lower and lower, down on her thighs, still staring straight at Nakyung, and Nakyung thinks she’s about to die right here in this room. She doesn’t notice the way Jiheon and Jisun and Gyuri are staring at her noticeably transfixed face, mouth slightly ajar, and she doesn’t care either, because the only thing in her mind is Chaeyoung, Chaeyoung, Chaeyoung.
After a few seconds, she gets up from the stage to join her team, back to a group formation, and Nakyung still doesn’t know if she can breathe, but she claps as enthusiastically as she can once it’s over nonetheless.
The backstage is a maze, and she stops by at least three wrong rooms before reaching the one the dance team is in. Waiting next to the doorframe, she can hear Chaeyoung giving a speech to the rest of them, ever the captain; bits of “so, so immensely proud” and “thank you all for all the work you do” and “you guys are the most badass bitches I know” slip through. A few minutes later they start slipping through the door, few at a time, and she smiles at Momo and congratulates Seulgi when they walk by.
Then she walks into the nearly empty room, where Chaeyoung stands tidying up the places where they all have thrown pieces of ribbon or bags around, and she looks up once Nakyung enters.
Giving her a half smile, Nakyung shifts her stance a bit, roses still hidden behind her back. “Hey,” she says.
Chaeyoung smiles back, teeth and all. “Hey. You came.”
“Of course,” says Nakyung. “You were amazing,” and takes out the roses.
It’s hard to map out what the emotions on Chaeyoung’s face mean, but after a beat Chaeyoung grasps the flowers from Nakyung’s grip and pulls her into a tight hug.
“Thank you,” lets out Chaeyoung, muffled, into her shoulder.
And they stand there for a few minutes, holding each other, until Chaeyoung takes a step back, smile still left over on her face.
“So, some of the girls are going to dinner to celebrate, but I didn’t want to go with them because I’m a bit tired so I was just going to go home instead, but, um,” Chaeyoung fiddles with her fingers, “wanna go to the park with me instead? The moon’s coming out soon, and it’s really pretty over the water, and—”
“Of course,” repeats Nakyung, and Chaeyoung looks relieved.
“Meet me by my car in ten?” and she nods and leaves the room, making her way back through the maze she came in, lips tilted up.
Before Nakyung knows it, Chaeyoung’s almost to the park, only sound between them the car engine as they pull into the parking lot.
They walk out together, hands in proximity but just spaces from touching, until reaching the lake. The water seems to shudder with quiet ripples, and the moon makes itself known in its reflection across the glassy dark blue, cosmic and present.
“I’m really proud of you, you know,” lets out Nakyung, voice soft. “For everything. We’ve done such a good job this year, and I couldn’t have done it without you.”
Chaeyoung looks at her in a way Nakyung isn’t able to decipher. “I’m glad we’re partners too.”
There’s no stopping the desire in her to thread the other girl’s hand with hers, and so she doesn’t fight it. Chaeyoung looks down, palm warm against Nakyung’s, and bites her lip.
“I don’t hate you,” she says, still looking at their interlocked fingers. “It was just easier to turn to fighting rather than, well, actually dealing with anything I felt.”
Nakyung’s heart begins to speed run in her chest. “What was it that you felt?”
Chaeyoung turns to her, ironic smile playing on her lips. “This,” and she leans in.
It’s funny how through all of Nakyung’s life, she’s always thought out every single possible scenario in any single situation, just to be prepared, so she wouldn’t ever be caught off her guard. It’s funny how anytime Lee Chaeyoung has entered her life, she’s managed to turn all of that upside down, interfere with this ritual, for better or for worse (though it’s hard to say Chaeyoung’s really made her life worse at all).
Almost immediately Nakyung responds, lips moving against the other girl’s. It’s everything she’s suppressed imagining because she thought it would be feeding into fruitless dreams, but here the dream is unfolding, right in front of her eyes. Chaeyoung’s hands are nervous and faint against her arms, moving up and down them ever so slowly, and Nakyung can feel every inch of skin touched as if it were fire.
Finally they part, and Chaeyoung’s eyes are still closed, mouth slightly agape. Nakyung breathes lightly and they flutter open; she looks as if she’s still in shock, and Nakyung has to let out a quiet laugh at the expression, which seems to snap her out of it.
“So…” Chaeyoung breathes out, eyes on Nakyung, expectant and timorous.
“So,” says Nakyung, nerves gone out of Chaeyoung’s bold first move, and kisses her again, swallowing the noise of surprise that she lets out in favor of lightly grazing her bottom lip with Nakyung’s teeth.
It’s there, with the moonlight across their silhouettes, that they stay, leaning against each other for hours, tied up in each other only, the world around them silent.
They win districts, of course. It’s not really a contest, and Nakyung feels kind of bad for the team they destroy, but not really at the same time, because Chaeyoung pulls her into a tight hug and kisses the soft of her cheek until Seoyeon yells, “Hey, lovebirds! Get over here and celebrate with the rest of us!”
And it’s in that courtroom, friends and team surrounding her and Chaeyoung grasping her hand, grinning from ear to ear on her other side, that she thinks, oh, so this is what it’s supposed to feel like.