Chapter Text
Rumor had it that Yerim Choi was single for the first time in three years, and despite how much she wanted to deny the claim, it was absolutely true on all accounts.
Although she and her longtime boyfriend never went public about the split, the moron’s knack for tactlessness made it more than obvious with how quick he moved on to the next girl, leaving the keen impression that things were going to end up like this no matter what. As a result, Yerim was now forced to spend the following weeks dodging any and all boys in endless dread of all their thinly veiled attempts at flirting, if one could even call it that.
It was like they had all taken a page out of the same book, with the guide in question giving explicit instruction on how not to attract women by means of unadulterated self-praise and reused offers to mediocre dining, maximum dissatisfaction guaranteed.
But storytellers, as Yerim called them, were the worst of them all by far. Having sat through so many recounts of "crazy" misadventures that were more or less similar to each other in both stupidity and uninteresting embellishments, the thought of having to entertain another boy's ego never failed to send a shiver down her spine. It all served to fuel her fight or flight response to silently beg the world, or any sympathetic higher power that was listening, for help in avoiding contact with the opposite sex until this all blew over.
If it ever would. Only God knew how many more of them were still waiting to make their move once the crowd had thinned out.
“I swear, if one more guy asks me if I want to ‘chill’, I’m gonna—UGH.” Yerim groaned, somehow managing to sink even further into the A.V. clubroom’s old, and quite frankly disgusting couch. There was no doubt in her mind that she’d regret the decision later, but sanitization took a back seat to her venting needs for now.
“Finally, you’re starting to get it,” Hyunjin said, the flatness in her voice revealing just how much of a non-issue she thought this whole thing was. “Remember what Miss Bae told us in our first homeroom?”
“No, but you’re gonna remind me anyway.”
“To quote the goddess herself—and write this down, you’ll need it later—men ain’t shit.”
Yerim only grumbled in response. She doubted their homeroom teacher was one to say something like that in confidence, but there was an undeniable wisdom behind the words that made her want to believe otherwise. After all, if the famous Joohyun Bae really did impart such crucial knowledge to her students, who was she to deny it?
Now that her relationship was dead and buried, it was sobering to consider how much compromise went into maintaining it. Plenty of wrongs were swept under the rug in the pursuit of hope, but like most hopes, they were too far removed from reality to come about on their own. At some point she started to expect nothing less than the usual fare, and maybe that’s when normalcy became her priority. In her mind, it was simple; if she couldn’t have it better, then keeping it stable was the next best thing.
Yerim cupped her face, defeated, mournful, tired. I'm such an idiot. All that time, all that energy, and for what? It was wasted on someone who never would’ve returned the favor. A troubled whine rose in her throat, just to be cut short by a bell signalling free period’s end. Faced with no choice, she’d have to show her face on campus yet again as the student body’s latest object of attention. Why, oh why, did word travel so fast? Didn’t these kids have better things to do?
Of course they didn’t. This was high school, and students were nothing but leeches waiting to feed off the next drop of gossip in blissful unawareness of the headaches caused by private matters being made public discourse.
Though, as Hyunjin would often say, even if it felt like everyone’s eyes were on her, it probably wasn’t that serious.
Yerim sat up for the first time in an hour, making sure to straighten out her uniform before reaching for the backpack adjacent to her friend’s chair.
“You staying?” she asked, watching Hyunjin court an unfinished bag of potato chips while some flashy anime played on her phone.
“Save me a seat. I wanna finish this episode.”
“I’ll think about it.”
“Don’t think. Do.”
Yerim side-eyed her friend to feign protest, but was ignored in favor of ridiculously athletic, animated boys playing volleyball. What was it called again? Hi-chew? Forget it.
Refusing to be late to any classes on the first day of a new schedule, she left the clubroom without saying another word, backpack hanging loose off her shoulder in a show of typical teenage apathy as the door shut behind her.
Her sixth and final class of the day was biology with Ms. Jung, and she’d been looking forward to it since the morning announcements. Not because of the material itself, but because of the fact that there was nothing else to stop her from going straight home afterwards. As far as she was concerned, the class marked an end to social hell and the beginning of her real day, which was cause for celebration on its own.
Double checking the crumpled sheet of paper that was supposed to be her schedule, she weaved through the hallways like a ghost, reading the plaques outside each classroom to find her own. It wasn’t too long before the numbers lined up just right and, once they did, she dipped her head inside to see a collection of other students, each face more unfamiliar than the last as they scrambled about to score a spot by their friends.
While most people wouldn’t have been caught dead in a class without someone they knew, Yerim was more than glad to have a fresh start. The girl had become something of a household name, and this turned out to be the breath of fresh air she needed. Maybe her luck wasn’t all that terrible; at least, that’s what it was starting to look like, until she found someone occupying her coveted corner at the very back.
And like that, her dreams of blending in as just another student were shattered in one fell swoop, leaving her to pick up the pieces while inwardly cursing out the vintage cap-wearing girl who wasn’t even awake to notice. While it wouldn’t have mattered too much in any other class, Ms. Jung was known for finalizing seating arrangements on the first day as part of a no-bullshit policy—which was fair enough, but not any more accommodating to Yerim’s wants and needs than she would've liked to admit.
In all seriousness, it wasn’t that serious at all. Like always, she just wanted something to complain about. It was a nuanced form of coping known only to the pettiest of people, and she intended to reap all the benefits before it came time to set aside her heartbroken self for something more refined like the regal, mature Yerim Choi she planned to be, refusing to be tied down by anything but herself in search of personal wealth and fulfillment.
But that was later, and this was now.
Should I ask her to switch? she thought, wondering if she was bold enough to wake somebody up for a personal reason like her own. Alas, thinking about it didn’t do her any favors, with Ms. Jung asking everyone to take a seat as soon as her foot was through the door. Yerim chewed on her cheek as she plopped onto the next desk over, trying hard to not let the situation get under her skin. Too little, too late.
Pouting through the first ten minutes of class like the 18-year-old she was, she made a point to glance at the corner every-so-often as if the napper was a pest that needed to be removed; though, she’d be lying if she said that nothing else was running through her mind.
She’s pretty. Really pretty. And… handsome, too? Guess some people do have it all.
“Choi, Yerim. Is Yerim here?” Ms. Jung called, finally starting attendance after the class had settled down.
“Present,” she replied, causing more than a few heads to turn.
Oh, how she hated that, but not as much as having to make up an excuse for Hyunjin’s absence despite it being their first day with a new teacher. Lucky enough for them both, it didn’t seem like Ms. Jung believed or cared enough about the food poisoning story to waste more time on questions that couldn’t be answered. Though loath to add another person to the growing list of Adults That Don’t Like Yerim Choi, a win would always be a win. As such, she crossed her arms in triumph at her teacher’s concession and went back to doing the usual business: nothing.
Boredom commandeering her mind, Yerim’s gaze made an unconscious shift towards the one thing that stood out in recent memory—the handsome girl sitting just one seat to the left. There, she found two sleepy pools of honey staring back at her, unexpected and magnetic in their pull.
They blinked once; and so did she twice, not knowing what to make of their private moment. Well, there was one thing she knew, and it was that the sweetness in those eyes truly lived up to their honeyed hue.
“Son, Hyejoo,” Ms. Jung called.
Handsome-girl broke eye contact first, lifting her head off the desk. “Here.”
She’s Hyejoo.
And I’m staring.
Yerim tore away as realization set in, the idea of being caught gawking at a stranger doing its best to help her retain some dignity. Minutes passed by as she tried her best to look anywhere that wasn’t Hyejoo’s direction, eyes darting around to miscellaneous objects while class went by undisturbed. She hadn’t even considered turning her attention back to Ms. Jung, who had finished attendance to start on their syllabus reading. At least, that’s what Yerim had assumed would be next on their agenda. In reality, not paying attention the whole period had come back to bite her in the ass.
“Alright everyone, we’ll be doing some icebreakers,” Ms. Jung said with melodic cadence. “Turn to the person on your left and introduce yourself with two truths and a lie.”
Yerim’s stomach plunged into a pit of despair as the room erupted in chatter. The Fates weren’t a kind bunch, were they?
Scandalized and rueful as she was, even she knew how good of a chance this was to clear things up with Hyejoo; that was, if clearing was needed to begin with. The fact of the matter was that she didn’t know if Hyejoo had noticed her lingering gaze—and if she did, what then? It wasn’t a crime to look at pretty things, and anyone would be hard pressed to ignore someone with that much visual appeal, triangle lips and all.
Cursed logic giving her a new bout of confidence, Yerim swallowed her pride to look over at Hyejoo’s corner once again. The girl sat there with a hand supporting her head, seemingly waiting for Yerim to start off their conversation.
“So, did you wanna go first?” Yerim said, fluttering her eyelashes to imply that Hyejoo should take the lead.
“Sure.” The girl couldn’t have sounded more bored if she tried. “Two truths and a lie… How about this: I’m 164cm tall, I don't have any matching socks, and,” she paused, “I caught a weirdo looking at me today.”
Yerim froze. A weirdo. She thinks I’m a weirdo. “I can expla—”
“Yoooo, my bad for being late,” Hyunjin’s voice washed over the two like a refreshing breeze. “What’s the deal, did I miss anything?”
She took a seat on Yerim’s desk before an answer could leave the girl’s mouth, earning herself a weak slap on the back as she got comfortable.
“Excuse me, I didn’t order any cake,” Yerim said as she pushed the wagon in question away from her face. “We were in the middle of intros.”
“Oh? Well, introduce me, then.”
Yerim squinted, but obliged to the request nevertheless. “This is Hyejoo,” she showcased the girl with open palms before turning, “and Hyejoo, this is Hyunjin.”
“I know, we’ve met.”
The athlete-otaku’s eyes widened. “Really?”
Their introduction quickly segued into sports thereafter, and Yerim soon found herself at the center of a conversation that made little to no sense the deeper it got. Zoning out, she left the freaks to their own devices as talk of a tentative timeline leading up to their alleged, and apparently fated, encounter took center stage. Guess I’ll just sit here then , she thought, using Hyunjin’s back as a pillow. Soothed by the gentle thrum of her friend’s inflections, Yerim’s eyelids blinked shut as spoken word melted into nothing more than white noise on her eardrums.
It was odd. Her innocence was on trial, but it didn’t seem like Hyejoo cared that much about the staring; in fact, deep down, Yerim knew it didn't matter at all. Finding an excuse was just for her peace of mind. Thus, it came down to finding a tale worth spinning, and as for what that entailed, she didn't know.
“Right, Yerim?”
The daydreamer hummed in response, knowing better than to agree with anything her friend said outright. “What are you on about now?”
“Soccer. Me and Hyejoo have a grudge match tomorrow, and I need you to stand in for Heejin.”
“It’s been like five minutes, why are you two already fighting?”
“Because she said we did friendlies before, but I don’t remember.”
“No, it’s because she didn’t believe that my team won. Twice,” Hyejoo added, tilting her head to assert a sort of detached dominance.
“Listen. I forget a lot of things, but I’d remember getting stomped.”
“I mean, as long as you’re ready for the three-peat.”
Hyunjin’s eyes lit up in fiery competitiveness as she scoffed at the challenge. It’d been a while since someone riled her up this good.
“We’ll see about that.”
She then turned to her best friend, who’d been sitting dumbstruck since the news graced her ears. “So, you in?”
“What? I don’t even know how to play.”
“You were in track.”
“That’s just running.”
“Which is like, ninety percent of the game!” Hyunjin slammed her hands on the desk in overexcitement. “I need your legs, Yerim. Please.”
It was a gross choice of words, for sure, but Hyunjin still had a point. They were lacking one player for a full field, and she wasn’t about to let some chump ruin her chances of beating Hyejoo. If she was going to lose, it would be on her own terms—not that she planned to in the first place, of course.
Nibbling at her bottom lip, Yerim struggled to say no. On one hand, Hyunjin wasn’t the type to ask for favors; on the other, she felt like her time would be better spent on things like online retail therapy or cat videos—a cheaper, and more favored form of therapy.
She sighed.
“Fine. Just for tomorrow, though. Anything after that and I’ll start charging you.”
“Sasuga, Yerim-chan. This is why we’re best friends.”
“What does that even—y’know what? Nevermind.”
Yerim whipped out her phone to pass the remainder of class in peace, content to let the two athletes verbally duke it out as prep for their actual game.
Unsurprisingly, it was an amused laugh that brought Hyejoo back into her line of sight once more, the sweetness she’d stared into before now replaced by two lovely crescents.
This wasn't the same Hyejoo she'd met thirty minutes prior, was it?
And if it was, why did she care?
There was one thing Hyunjin hadn’t bothered to remember while drawing up their deal, and it was that Yerim’s five year stint in track only ended because of serial stress fractures and a less than understanding coach. She learned the hard way that if hell’s molten rock bed had a name, it would be track and field on an injury. While it didn’t trouble her too much anymore, every beat she spent on the 400m used to be part of an elaborate prayer for salvation in the form of grit and mental fortitude, and simply being reminded of the pain in any way, shape, or fashion made Yerim’s stomach flip twice, wobbly knees and aching shins aside.
Yet here she was again, surrounded by marmalade-toned polyurethane in her spare time as Hyejoo and Hyunjin drafted their teams for the day. Yerim hopped from one foot to another, shifting uncomfortably next to her friend. She wasn't too stoked to be outside while a cold sky hung above them, overcast and unwelcoming for what Hyunjin insisted was going to be ‘a good day’.
“Hyun, do we have to play? It’s gonna rain soon and I didn’t bring a jacket.”
“Of course we do. Didn’t you have to run in the rain for track? What’s so different now?”
“I’m retired, for one, and I mostly just stood in a hoodie until it was my turn. This…” she gave the dreary field a quick once-over, “is a commitment.”
“Damn right it is. You just don’t get it, Yerim. This is bigger than both of us; we’re doing it for the spirit of sport and competition.”
“No, I’m doing this for you. Don’t get it twisted.”
Hyunjin’s lips curled back in mild, but unsurprised dissatisfaction. She’d never earned anything less than a blasé response from Yerim when it came to stuff like this, and there was the silent understanding between them that things wouldn’t be changing anytime soon.
All things considered, it was nice that Yerim decided to show at all. She wouldn’t be doing much on the field, no, but if the horror stories about Heejin being an accidental bulldozer were in any part real, the difference in skill between the two was easily made up for with spatial awareness alone; and Hyunjin, being the team captain, had no qualms about less time spent on rewarding penalty kicks to the other team for what could’ve been avoided altogether.
“You’re with me, Chae,” she said, corralling the group and its last member for a quick Hyunjin-style pep talk.
“Alright team, your primary directive for today: don’t embarrass me. That’s it. Bust some shins if you want, but only if you got the insurance for it. Other than that, have fun.” Formation broke for just a moment as she made a single whistle with her fingers. “Positions, everyone!”
In contrast to an understandably confused Yerim, the gang split up to take their usual roles on the green without question, seemingly determined to win despite receiving what could’ve been the worst motivational speech of all time.
“Now that we got those nerds sorted out,” Hyunjin spoke through the hair tie in her mouth, “you know what a striker is, Yerim?
“No idea.”
“Well, that’s what Heejin was, so you’re up in the front with me.”
“Front. Hyun, I’ve never played. Can’t I just defend or whatever?”
“It’s cool, it’s cool. Just keep your eye on the ball. And me. Stick to the sides; I kick it to you, you kick back. It’s simple. Do that, we beat Hyejoo and call it good.”
Hyejoo. Right, this was all because of her.
“Just don’t blame me if we lose.”
The team captain beamed. “I would never. Because we won’t.”
Yerim’s nose scrunched at her friend’s wild optimism, but things were finally starting to make sense. Nobody actually cared about the pep talk; it was all about Hyunjin being Hyunjin and them doing their best with the unconditional support, and Yerim might’ve shed a tear at the camaraderie if she wasn’t already convinced that sports nuts were a different breed of their own.
“Okay, where do I stand?”
Yerim scanned the opposition once more after being led to her starting position, taking mental notes on who seemed most likely to harass her for being a newbie. Almost making it to the end of the lineup without incident, the mood was dashed once she found herself snared by a familiar, honeyed brown from afar, its bearer wearing a lithe smirk as if to say ‘ I’ve already won’.
Serving up a sneer of her own, Yerim turned away with a newfound sense of defiance to look at the uninvited mess of grey hanging above their fair campus. Looming closer than before, the ever-concerning promise of a cold shower was close to becoming reality and, from the looks of it, there was about an hour left until soaked socks and chafed thighs would spoil their fun. Yet, at Hyunjin’s insistence, they were going to play.
Or more accurately, they never weren’t going to, rain be damned.
As it turned out, Yerim’s prediction was off the mark by thirty minutes—just not in the way anyone would’ve preferred. Downpour came mid-way through their first game, leaving the players with a strong desire for proper cover and warm towels; but they all knew that wasn’t going to happen, especially with a certain Kim at the helm of this entire operation.
First win already in the bag, Yerim was glad the rest of her team was putting in work while she ran around the sidelines, making fools of those assigned to defend against a rookie. It had her feeling a bit stupid, sure, but she wasn't about to complain about results. Decoys had their uses, and it just so happened that the other team believed their little bluff.
Needless to say, the charade didn’t last. After a time-out and some aggressive huddling, the opposition became more concerned about shutting Hyunjin down more than anything else. And that’s when they started losing. Hard.
Which meant a change of plans, and the introduction of Team Kim’s trump card: The Non-threat, also known as Yerim Choi.
“They got half the team on me because they think I’m the ace. We’re gonna show them that’s wrong. No more playing forward; we’re gonna let them in, and when they slip up, we blitz for the goal.
“But here’s the thing. Everyone wants a piece of this, so I can’t be up too far. That’s where you come in, Yerim. Vivi? She’s getting locked out too but that bitch is ripped so don’t worry about her. You’re the ace here. She passes it, you run and score.”
The words echoed like thunder in Yerim’s mind as everyone went back to their respective positions, raindrops pelting half-lidded eyes all around. Let them in, then blitz. It was a lot of responsibility for someone who'd barely kicked a ball in her 18 years of living, but surely there was a method to the madness. Or maybe there was no method and Hyunjin was actually just insane; Yerim wasn't about to take bets on either turnout.
Regardless, if the plan hinged on her slipping through their defence, then the least she could do was give it a try. Terrified or not, she was a brave—if not utterly loyal—girl for those who needed her. Taking in all the action like an invested bystander, everything unfolded just like Hyunjin planned. Giving the ball away led to a deep push by Hyejoo’s team. Speaking of which, where is she? Then it happened.
A breakthrough by the captain herself. Then, the start of a scramble towards the goal.
One foot in front of the other, Yerim ran through the frontline as her friend fell far behind, hindered by the wall of bodies dedicated to stopping her. Yet somehow, in the flurry of limbs surrounding midfield, an undefended Vivi broke off the side to receive a pass and rushed at the goal without restraint, drenched hair whipping wildly in the heavy rain.
While Yerim thought it was nothing less than brilliant, everyone else knew better than to assume the best. There was still a backline, after all, and it wasn’t long before they bolted past to corner Vivi, giving Yerim a mini spike in blood pressure at the thought of losing momentum on their power play.
“She’s fine, keep running!” Hyunjin yelled, trying her best to get past the lockdown squad.
The reminder afforded Yerim a moment of clarity to switch gears once more, starting up an overdrive she hadn’t used in forever. The one that only came out when she really cared about something other than herself. Like with track. Or her ex, if she was so bold to admit it. The same one steeped in enough nostalgia to keep her trapped in a dreamlike nightmare with no way forward, just for everything to crash and burn the second she remembered things could be better.
But none of that mattered now, and she of all people knew it was better to finish the race strong than to stand still. So she took that energy and ran, ran, and ran; unstoppable like a bullet in the wind.
It was just unfortunate that, in her excitement, she forgot the first cardinal rule of soccer: always know where you’re going. Having kept her eyes peeled on Vivi the whole time, Yerim was oblivious of the one person moving to block her until a meter was left between them, and as one might’ve expected, things only went downhill from there.
Digging her heel into the ground after the realization, she was already too late—not to mention, ill-equipped for the confrontation—as her cleatless feet slipped off the green and into the air, momentum sending her straight towards the defenseless defender like a stray bowling ball.
…
Yerim! Yerim! Yerim!
…
Clutching at fake grass, she barely had a second to piece together what had just happened before the wind was at her back again, with two strong arms gathering the rest of her body into a full-on bridal carry off the field. Hyunjin?
Knowing she was in good hands, Yerim’s head fell back to appreciate the steady barrage of droplets massaging her left temple for all its searing pain.
“Hyun, don’t walk so fast,” she pleaded, to which the swaying slowed thereafter. “Thanks.”
With shelter being just a stone’s throw away, Yerim stayed comfortable in her friend’s embrace until she was gently set onto dry ground, far removed from both rain and the prying eyes of whoever witnessed her very public embarrassment. Taking a moment’s peace to recollect herself, she felt the other girl take up a spot beside her without so much as a word between them.
Weird, she thought. It wasn’t like Hyunjin to stay this quiet, ever. Is she blaming herself?
“It’s alright, Hyun. It’s my fault I wasn’t looking.”
“Nah, I should’ve been more careful,” said Hyejoo. Pause. Hyejoo?
Turning, Yerim’s eyelids fluttered open to find the girl’s face mere centimeters away from her own. She pulled back. “Where’s—”
“Dunno. Said something about a lift, I think.”
“Oh...” she followed Hyejoo’s gaze to what should’ve been her temple, “Is it that bad?”
“Could be worse,” Hyejoo fished a phone out of her pocket. "Wanna see?”
Curiosity getting the best of her, Yerim tentatively took the phone and opened its camera to assess the damage. She was glad to find the injury felt worse than it looked.
“You did pretty good for your first day.”
“First and last.”
“Yeah,” she sniffed, partly because of the cold, “probably didn’t leave a good impression.”
Realising her poor phrasing, Yerim’s attention went back to Hyejoo as she returned the phone. “No, I had fun. I’m just not into it like you guys are.”
The other girl simply nodded, letting silence reclaim its rightful place between them. Seconds passed as Yerim took in the torrent beyond Hyejoo’s silhouette. Then minutes. Then, after what had seemed like an eon of wishing the pain away, she heard it.
“Hey,” Hyejoo said, the softness in her voice deconstructing any image Yerim might’ve had of her before. She leaned forward with her hands on the ground. “Will you let me make it up to you?”
“Huh?”
“Please.”
It’s really not a big deal, is what Yerim wanted to say, but couldn’t. Not when those pleading eyes were so close. “Sure?”
“Thank God,” the other girl sat back and sighed in relief. “I felt like shit this whole time.”
Yerim stifled a laugh. Who’d have expected Hyejoo Son to be so innocent?
It wasn’t long before she saw Hyunjin’s figure emerge in the distance with two bags; one slung over her shoulder, the other being used as an impromptu umbrella.
“Yerim!” she called, coming into the archway. “I brought the car over. You good to walk?”
“Would you carry me if I said no?”
“Ah, this girl.” Hyunjin huffed and helped her friend up. “I’m starting to think you’re sturdier than I am.” Then addressing Hyejoo, she added, “thanks for taking care of her.”
Met with upturned triangle lips in response, the duo said their goodbyes and scurried off towards Hyunjin’s car, bags held high for protection against elements abound. Hand in hand, they approached the silver doors in surprising cheerfulness despite all that happened.
“Isn’t that Hyejoo’s hoodie?” Hyunjin said after they’d hopped in. “Man, she’s nicer than I thought.”
Raising an eyebrow, Yerim looked down to find a vaguely familiar pine green garment resting where her shirt should’ve been. “Yeah, I guess…”
Clearly, there was more to Hyejoo than met the eye. One surprise after the other, she’d somehow managed to claw her way out of obscurity to live in another girl’s mind within just two days of minimal contact—rent free with full accommodation. It was an impressive feat for anyone; and Yerim, being the girl in question, had to admit her budding interest in the mystery of it all.
As to what extent, she had no clue.
“How will you make it up to me?” Yerim whispered to the window, fogging it with curiosity.
How, indeed.