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Second place.
Jeongyeon is never second place. Whether it comes to academics, athletics, even looks, Jeongyeon is always first; she knows of no other placement. So when she sees the hitmen rankings on the dark web for this week, her blood begins to boil.
Right underneath her, only about 2000 points away, is Sazaki. Whoever the fuck that is.
Jeongyeon has been at the top of the boards ever since she joined, not having failed a single mission so far and always being the first to eliminate race targets. It’s never been much of a competition for her and slowly, people had stopped trying to beat her because it was clear that they couldn’t.
So whoever Sazaki was needed to learn their place and needed to learn it fast.
Jeongyeon’s eyes fly to the calendar strung up on her pinboard, scanning to see her schedule for the month. No major events, not until her cousin’s — Jihyo’s — birthday which was a good three months away. Which means…
Immediately, Jeongyeon races to check the current bargains. There’s all sorts of categories for her to choose from: models, singers, politicians were always a safe bet, criminals, etc. The prices are exceptionally high this week, to her luck, so she spends her time surfing through the tags to find one that suits her interests.
Mina Myoui, 700k. Jeongyeon whistles, looking through the brief background information the page provides. First and foremost, Mina is breathtakingly attractive . Jeongyeon almost finds herself somewhat pitying the girl —such a shame for priceless beauty to go to waste. (Second of all, she’s gay. So Jeongyeon contemplates asking her out on a date first.)
Mina’s a model under ONCE, a Korean agency that has its headquarters in downtown Seoul. It’ll take Jeongyeon two hours to drive there and probably a week max to get close to the manager, betray their trust, and finish the job. Jeongyeon scoffs, thumb hovering over the ‘send application’ button. This is almost too easy.
Right before she hits enter, a notification appears on the ‘trending’ tab and Jeongyeon’s curiosity piques. She receives message after message, people spamming her with variations of, “Are you taking it?” It’s wishful thinking, she knows. They’ll drop the job as soon as they find out Jeongyeon’s taken it because it’s a waste of their time to try and challenge her. So, Jeongyeon decides to inspect the ruckus. Mina’s death certificate can wait a few minutes.
As soon as the new post loads on her screen, Jeongyeon’s lips part in awe. For a second, she thinks she’s hallucinating because the sight before her is like an answer to her prayers.
Im Nayeon, 2 million.
It takes a moment for her to register the numbers and allow them to sink in. Her disbelief doesn’t appear to be strange, given the influx of comments accusing the poster for a fraudulent bargain. The offer seems too good to be true.
Nayeon, senior in Busan University and part-time florist, has unknowingly beat an international record. The highest pay for an elimination. The numbers of applicants rise steadily—fifteen, thirty, sixty three, one hundred—and Jeongyeon frantically swipes her thumb across the screen to see the requirements.
“Get the family heirloom and then kill her.” It’s short and straight to the point, just like Jeongyeon likes. Without hesitance, she sends in her application and becomes contestant number 217.
This will ensure her spot as number one for at least two weeks, Jeongyeon thinks as she relaxes against the cushioned surface of her chair. With her arms stretched out in front of her and her head lolling from side to side, she begins making mental notes.
First things first, she’ll have to enroll into Busan University.
Granted, enrolling in a university for the sake of a job that shouldn’t take more than a few weeks—a month, if Nayeon’s as smart as someone at that price should be—is over the top. Nonetheless, Jeongyeon would rather be safe than sorry.
So, with some under the counter bribery, she lands a seat in the graduating class of Busan University and gains access to Nayeon’s schedule.
Jeongyeon makes sure that they have just enough classes together for Nayeon to notice her and not grow suspicious about it. That means the two electives she takes at the end of the day have to be different from Nayeon’s, but still interesting enough to catch the girl’s appeal.
Jeongyeon settles on literature and journalism. She’s good at bullshitting papers so maintaining a good grade should be no problem and besides, Nayeon looks like the kind of girl to be interested in bookworms.
And she’s right because she runs into Nayeon in the library on her second day at campus. She’d planned on making their official meeting after a week so that Nayeon wouldn’t be suspicious of her motives, but it’s Nayeon who approaches her.
Nayeon, who’s only about two inches shorter than Jeongyeon, asks for her help in retrieving a book from the top shelf. She’s not sure why Nayeon has wormed her way through the aisles to come nag her when there were well-functioning librarians and tall male students who seemed way too eager to help. (Nayeon’s even cuter up close, so Jeongyeon’s not complaining of course.)
Deciding not to question it, Jeongyeon simply does what’s requested for her and retrieves the book. Nayeon looks up expectantly (and with gratitude) and Jeongyeon takes a second to admire her features.
Nayeon’s cheeks are round which remind Jeongyeon of her favorite dessert, mochi, and she’s got the most endearing button nose. Her lips are plump and curved to look pouty, sealing the innocent and angelic image she seems to be known for.
“What’s the magic word?” Jeongyeon asks teasingly, waving the book in the air right out of Nayeon’s reach. They’ve only just met, but Jeongyeon knows that sometimes a little playful teasing is the best way to a woman’s heart. On top of that, Nayeon resembles a curious bunny and Jeongyeon wants to see what other expressions she can elicit from the older.
“Please?” Nayeon supplies, leaning in close and no longer tiptoeing with unmatched determination. Jeongyeon can tell that Nayeon’s flirting with her; her plea is drawn out in an alluring manner and she’s batting her lashes as if something’s caught in between them.
Jeongyeon relents and gives Nayeon the book.
Meeting in the library becomes a regular thing.
Jeongyeon finds herself racing to meet deadlines as if she’s not going to withdraw from classes once the job is done. She has to rent out at least three books each week and her roommate is a loud underclassman that doesn’t have a volume filter which makes it hard for her to study at the dorm. So, the library reasonably becomes her second home.
Nayeon, who Jeongyeon learns is anything but interested in the books she borrows, accompanies her silently. Being attractive has its perks; it’s like Jeongyeon was made for this job, in other words. Nayeon is drawn to her like a moth is drawn to flame and all Jeongyeon has to do is sit back, relax, and flash the mesmerized girl a smile every now and then.
Granted, it’s a little distracting. Especially because Nayeon craves skinship and often nuzzles her cheek against Jeongyeon’s shoulder, feigning exhaustion, or links their arms together, hugging Jeongyeon’s to her chest without realizing the implications. (Jeongyeon has to discreetly shift to make sure nothing awkward happens.)
One day, Nayeon feels particularly bold and plants herself right onto Jeongyeon’s lap, obscuring the taller’s vision of her notes. “What—Nayeon, I can’t see,” Jeongyeon heaves out a sigh of defeat. She makes no move to remove Nayeon from where she’s seated, but places a hand on the latter’s thigh tellingly.
Nayeon huffs indignantly, refusing to see reason, and only makes herself more comfortable. Jeongyeon means to reprimand her, but with the way Nayeon pushes her lower lip outwards to form a childish pout, how can she?
Instead, she shakes her head. “What am I going to do with you?” To that, Nayeon smiles victoriously and makes a noise of satisfaction. Jeongyeon can’t help but squeeze her gently. “You’re like my very own pet bunny.”
That’s pushing it, considering it’s only been about two weeks at most, but Nayeon hums in agreement —rather than the anticipated rejection—of the claim. “Yours,” Nayeon accepts playfully and Jeongyeon finds herself at a loss for words. There’s no way someone with a bounty of two million on their head is this pliant.
Nayeon insists that if Jeongyeon is going to claim to be her owner, she’s obligated to give her head pats and snacks. Jeongyeon thinks that Nayeon’s taking the pet name thing a bit too far, but when Nayeon nuzzles into her touch with that infamous pout, Jeongyeon decides to bite back on the comment.
Besides, she’s always wanted a pet.
The flower shop Nayeon works at is a quaint corner store that adds color to an otherwise dull block. There are assortments of daisies, lavender, tulips, and more, that entice onlookers. That is, if Nayeon isn’t reason enough for a visit.
Jeongyeon realizes that she’s underestimated Nayeon’s popularity. Heavily. During the florist’s shift, at least a good half of the entire student body come and visit her; not only them, but also people from other universities and nearby neighborhoods. Jeongyeon’s unsure why they go out of their way to buy a regular, flimsy rose that’s on the verge of breaking apart; that is until she espies the little notes that Nayeon gives her customers. They’re small words of encouragement, but hearing such from someone as pretty as Nayeon must be reason enough for people nowadays.
Jeongyeon’s in no position to speak, anyways. She accompanies Nayeon during one shift per week, whenever she can accommodate it into her schedule, because Nayeon quite literally begs her to.
“I like being around you,” Nayeon had admitted while attempting to convince Jeongyeon the first time. Jeongyeon had invited her to grab some ramen with her at the new restaurant that opened on campus, but Nayeon had taken a rain check because of her job. Then, in the spur of the moment, she began listing off the reason why Jeongyeon should go with her.
It’s honestly boring. Jeongyeon stands in the corner and watches Nayeon take care of flowers for five hours while customers come and go. But she reminds herself of the money and puts up with it.
(If she catches herself staring at Nayeon a moment too long or if the time slowly seems to get shorter and shorter, she doesn’t dig around for a deeper meaning.)
Im Nayeon is either a methodical genius or—for a lack of better words—a clueless idiot. Jeongyeon sees one of either extremes, no in between.
It’s nearing the one month mark and Jeongyeon has yet to get any closer in accomplishing her task. There’s definitely been countless opportunities to kill her. Nayeon is beyond oblivious and Jeongyeon finds herself having to defend the former from attacks rather than attacking her herself.
At one point, Nayeon had hauled Jeongyeon to a club and nearly drank something that had been tampered with. Needless to say, Jeongyeon had immediately taken them home and spent the entire car ride lecturing her.
“Hasn’t your mother ever told you not to take candies from strangers?” Jeongyeon snaps, infuriated by Nayeon’s carefree attitude. “This is serious, Nayeon. You could’ve died.”
Ironic, Jeongyeon thinks to herself.
“You were there,” Nayeon says meekly and Jeongyeon refuses to acknowledge the slight spike in her heart rate. “You protected me. Like always.”
“And what if I hadn’t been there?” Jeongyeon counters as she pulls into the parking lot of the university. She can hear Nayeon’s shaky breathing, a clear indication that she was on the verge of tears.
It’s an act, Jeongyeon reassures herself, fending off any signs of vulnerability. It’s for the pay, Jeongyeon repeats when her heart shatters upon seeing Nayeon’s tears fall. It’s just a job, Jeongyeon confirms, leaning over and pressing a chaste kiss onto Nayeon’s forehead.
The reason—the only reason, Jeongyeon convinces herself—that she hasn’t killed Nayeon is because Nayeon has yet to give her the slightest pointer towards Im’s heirloom. Jeongyeon has alluded to Nayeon’s family several times, trying to entice the topic out of her, but Nayeon never mentions it.
It’s only when Nayeon gets herself in a fix for the umpteenth time that Jeongyeon begins to humor the notion that Nayeon might not even know what she’s being targeted for. Or that she’s being targeted at all.
Nayeon might be completely oblivious and innocent, yet there were numerous—countless—people scoping in on her as if she were their prize. Jeongyeon seethes at the thought, despite being no better herself, and she’s not sure why.
A sleepy whine sounds from Nayeon as she nuzzles herself into Jeongyeon’s embrace and Jeongyeon smiles fondly. She pulls the drowsy girl closer, tucking her head underneath her chin, and acknowledges the drumming of her heart.
There’s nothing abnormal about this. She’s just worried about her ranking.
Two months later, Jeongyeon receives three warnings in one day about Sazaki narrowing in on her ranking. 1000 points left, 700, 500.
She needs to finish her task by the end of this week or forfeit it for a new one if she wants to maintain first. The only problem with conceding is her pristine record—well, that’s what she wants to believe, but she knows that’s not the case.
Not when her skin burns under Nayeon’s touch, not when her cheeks color red after Nayeon smiles at her, not when her eyes refuse to fixate on anything but Nayeon at any given moment.
Jeongyeon finds herself crashing at Nayeon’s dorm more than her own. It’s for precaution, she says to herself; she can’t have anyone killing Nayeon before she does. It’s for affection, she says to Nayeon; she’s not sure if she’s feigning it anymore.
When moonlight peeks in through Nayeon’s thin curtains, kissing the defining curves of her delicate feature, Jeongyeon can’t help but admire silently. She knows it’s wrong, but she allows herself to indulge in it. She’s not sure how much longer she’ll be able to do so anyways.
The number of intruders increases steadily and Jeongyeon tries to convince Nayeon to switch rooms, to be more discreet about her plans, to always look around when she’s alone, but there’s only so much she can say without revealing the truth.
“I think there’s someone following me,” Nayeon says through the phone breathlessly one night. She’s been running.
Jeongyeon jolts out of bed, throwing on her jacket in the blink of an eye. “Where are you?” She asks, already out the door before a full minute can pass. The moon is sheathed by the wispy clouds, meaning Nayeon has to rely on the artificial lights of the street lamps to keep her safe.
“Nayeon, I need you to be brave for me,” Because I’m scared.
“I’m trying, but—no!” The line cuts out before Jeongyeon can’t shout back. This isn’t good, this isn’t good. The blood pumping through Jeongyeon’s veins grows cold and the beating of her heart is so loud, it feels as if her eardrums are going to burst.
Frantically, she tries to trace back the last location of Nayeon’s phone. East of campus, two blocks down from the flower shop. They’d waited for her—waited through her shift, waited for the perfect moment to strike, and Jeongyeon had been so stupid as to not accompany her home tonight.
By the time she reaches the spot, there’s no trace of Nayeon anywhere, save the skid marks on the curb. They’ve taken off already—Jeongyeon had failed.
It’s hard to breathe. Jeongyeon’s not sure why she falls to the ground—not sure why she can’t feel the pain when her knees scrape against the cement. Her mouth tastes bitter and her vision grows hazy; if there’s unshed tears pressing her lashes together, she doesn’t realize because she’s too occupied with trying to calm herself down.
“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” Jeongyeon whispers, slamming her fist against the concrete sidewalk and not caring for the wounds that open from the rash decision. It’s not in her nature to be impulsive, but she can’t control herself right now and she’s not certain as to why—that is until a mantra of Nayeon’s name leaves her lips; then she has a pretty good hunch.
“Stop!” Jeongyeon’s head snaps up. The voice echoes down the block eerily and Jeongyeon can barely make out the source.
“Leave me alone!”
It takes mere seconds for Jeongyeon’s to locate the commotion; what happens next is honestly a blur from how frenzied she feels.
She can make out Nayeon’s face, mascara dripping down her tear-ridden cheeks, and she can make out the attacker’s physique, tall and lean. Then, the next thing she makes out is the crushing sound of her fist meeting the stranger’s jaw. The scream they let out is ear-splitting. After that, she feels warmth coat her hands and barely pinpoints the source; a barely recognizable face spluttering blood.
A pair of hands tighten over her shoulders, pulling her away—pulling her to safety.
“Are you okay?” Nayeon asks when they’re in the comfort of her dorm. Jeongyeon feels the sting as Nayeon runs water and ice over the cuts and bruises forming on her knuckles, but she can’t manage a hiss, let alone a verbal response.
Silence rests between them and Jeongyeon can tell that Nayeon is thinking. Gears are turning. Nayeon knows something is up, but doesn’t know what—and it’s scaring her. Her sleeves are tugged down to cover her hands, but Jeongyeon can see the way her shoulders tremble.
“I thought,” Jeongyeon manages breathlessly, reaching out to cup Nayeon’s cheek so that the latter faces her. The clock strikes midnight, but Jeongyeon doesn’t need to hear the loud tick of Nayeon’s clock in order to tell. “I thought I’d lost you.”
Nayeon’s complexion radiates in the night's embrace.
“You didn’t,” Nayeon replies. It’s a whisper meant to comfort Jeongyeon. “I’m here. I’m okay.”
If hell is with you,
Jeongyeon’s not sure who initiates it, but the distance between them gradually disappears until their lips meet. There’s a fire that burns with intent inside of Jeongyeon, shooting up her body and making her skin crawl. Nayeon both ignites and quenches it, her touch startling, but also comforting.
Nayeon runs her tongue experimentally over Jeongyeon’s busted lip, worried about hurting her, but Jeongyeon’s no doll. Pain is the last of her concerns and she displays that by coaxing Nayeon’s lips apart and sliding her own tongue into the awaiting cavern. The noises that leave the smaller girl are rewarding and Jeongyeon revels in it, leaning in closer and closer until they topple over and Jeongyeon can press their chests together.
Outside, the wind whistles tauntingly, reminding them of the horrors that may come tomorrow.
Let me be damned.
Jihyo’s birthday comes around the corner quicker than Jeongyeon had expected.
She hadn’t expected to be occupied with a job this long, so when Jihyo asks her about her travel plans, she hesitates.
“I don’t know if I can come,” Jeongyeon admits, fiddling with her pencil as she awaits the disappointed response. “I’m still on a job.”
“Why would you take one so close to my birthday?” Jeongyeon can hear the hurt in Jihyo’s voice. “I’ve been planning for months.”
“I didn’t expect it to take this long,” Jeongyeon explains, alerting Jihyo about her current predicament. It’s been three months since she’s taken the job and she’s not even an inch closer to completing the task. “I can’t let her out of my sight. She’s in danger almost every hour, how is she gonna last a whole weekend without me.”
“Bring her,” Jihyo suggests and Jeongyeon startles at that. “Heck, won’t it be safer here than there? They’ll be about 9 girls in the apartment, with you two included, how’s anyone gonna attack her?”
The girl in question nods her head eagerly, completely dismissing the fact that she’s been eavesdropping. She’s dressed in Jeongyeon’s clothes, even if they’re a size too big for her, and has a toothbrush in one hand and toothpaste in the other.
“Keep washing up, you stink,” Jeongyeon tells her and then returns to the conversation with her cousin. “Alright, we’ll be there the morning of.” Out of the corner of her eye, she can see Nayeon fistpump the air in excitement.
“You’re far too excited,” Jeongyeon notes, hanging up the call in order to give Nayeon her full attention. Nayeon holds up a finger, signalling ‘wait’, and then finishes drying off her face before facing Jeongyeon to answer. “This is the first time I’m meeting someone from your family!”
“Okay, well, I haven’t met yours,” Jeongyeon fires back with a scoff, reaching out to fix Nayeon’s messy bangs. Perhaps now, Nayeon will finally open up about her family; a part of Jeongyeon wishes that Nayeon won’t.
“I don’t have anyone to introduce you to,” Nayeon says nonchalantly, seeming unphased by the hefty sentence she’s just let out. Jeongyeon freezes and so does the movement of her fingers. “They severed ties with me after I refused to follow their career path.”
Jeongyeon realizes—with a heavy or relieved heart, she’s unsure—that Nayeon is innocent. People have been targeting her for no reason; Jeongyeon had been targeting her for no reason. The last three months, meeting Nayeon, getting to know Nayeon—falling in love with Nayeon, had stemmed from a mistake.
“What?” She asks out of disbelief and Nayeon shrugs, reaching out to squeeze the taller girl’s shoulder somewhat reassuringly. It’s ironic, considering Nayeon’s the one who should be upset if anything.
“Loosen up, you look like someone just killed your cat,” Nayeon laughs, brushing her lips against Jeongyeon’s cheek. Jeongyeon doesn’t react, only makes a haste movement to grab her laptop.
“Hey,” Nayeon calls out warily as Jeongyeon begins to tap away furiously at her keyboard. “What’s wrong?” Jeongyeon can’t answer.
Nayeon’s picture is still up in the trending tab, along with threads of just about everyone who’s encountered her—and consequently Jeongyeon. Jeongyeon can’t help but clench her fists and she reads through the comments; people are placing bets, making lewd comments, and objectifying Nayeon.
“What’s that?” Nayeon asks from behind her and Jeongyeon tenses up. Despite talking mere seconds ago, it had completely slipped her mind that she wasn’t alone in her dorm that morning—the sporadic thinking caused by anger. “Is that me?”
Nayeon’s tone is curious, meaning she probably hasn’t read the context behind why there’s a candid photo of her floating around on Jeongyeon’s laptop. “It’s nothing,” Jeongyeon says without a second thought.
She’ll tell Nayeon eventually, but not now. Not when she has to figure out how to ensure Nayeon’s safety, not when she’s a contestant herself no matter how much she no longer wants to be, not when she hasn’t had enough of Nayeon’s morning kisses and evening whispers.
Being selfish is a sin, but Jeongyeon has been sinning for ages.
When they arrive at the doorstep of Jihyo’s penthouse, Nayeon swarms her with a flurry of questions. They all concern Jeongyeon’s background—mostly financially—and Jeongyeon has to silence her with a kiss.
Jihyo opens the door right when Jeongyeon is seconds away from devouring Nayeon in the hallway. The gag that sounds from her catches the attention of the six other girls in the apartment building who have been crowded in the living room.
“Disgusting,” Jihyo states impishly and Jeongyeon responds by ruffling her hair. “First impressions are important.” Nayeon blushes at that.
“Everybody, my gay cousin and her gay girlfriend have arrived,” Jihyo announces, swinging the door wide open and making their entrance grander than they wish for it to be.
“You say that like we aren’t all gay,” Tzuyu scoffs from the couch she’s sprawled out on, her head on Mina’s lap. Tzuyu and Jeongyeon had met at Jihyo’s last birthday bash; she’s a model which explains why Mina’s here this year. (Jeongyeon makes a mental note not to take the bargain on Mina’s head.)
“Which is quite offensive,” Dahyun adds, glancing up momentarily from her phone. Jeongyeon spots that her camera is on and discerns that she’s filming Chaeyoung and Momo who have apparently had too much to drink. From the gasp Nayeon lets out, Jeongyeon realizes that two girls making out in public (with wine stains on their shirts) might be a new experience for her.
“Whatever,” Jihyo fires back in defeat, making a face. “Well, make yourself at home. Yeon—and uh… Yeon, your room is down the hall to the left.”
“Let’s go,” Jeongyeon mumbles, leading the way, and Nayeon is quick to follow. Jihyo hasn’t redecorated much, Jeongyeon notes; aside from a few new paintings, it seems just the way Jeongyeon had seen it last. To Nayeon, however, it causes excitement and awe.
“Woah,” an unfamiliar voice states as they swing the bathroom door open and manage to narrowly avoid hitting Nayeon with it. “Watch out, silly.”
Jeongyeon heaves a sigh and motions to examine Nayeon, but is beaten to it by the stranger. “You alright?” There’s an uneasiness that Jeongyeon feels with the way the two stare at one another, but she stays silent.
“I’m Sana,” the girl identifies, flashing Nayeon a smile before flitting her gaze towards Jeongyeon. “Oh, isn’t this interesting.” She’s not sure if she imagines it, but Jeongyeon swears there’s a peculiar chill to the room that leaves the hairs on her arm standing.
“Sana Minatozaki, my friends call me Sazaki for short.”
Jeongyeon’s blood runs cold.
There’s no doubt in Jeongyeon’s mind that Sana had known of this prior. The way she’s assimilated into the friend group is too natural, the way Dahyun’s wrapped around her finger is too casual; there’s not a single flaw that Jeongyeon can spot. It’s no wonder Sana’s so close in beating her position for first. If she kills Sana right here, right now, she won’t be a threat anymore.
Sana works like her though. In other words, she’s grown close to Nayeon in the blink of an eye. Whenever Nayeon’s not with Jeongyeon, she’s loitering around Sana, even when the younger girl is preoccupied with her girlfriend. (Nayeon’s become a professional third wheeler, Jeongyeon observes.) The others in the group have also begun to associate Nayeon with Sana and Sana with Nayeon to the point where Dahyun’s begun to get jealous. So, if Jeongyeon kills Sana, Nayeon would probably never forgive her.
And she can’t lose Nayeon.
Instead, Jeongyeon ends up going the extra mile to make sure Nayeon’s safe. She barely gets shut-eye, makes sure Nayeon is never alone (even stands guard outside the bathroom when she showers), and keeps Sana a reasonable distance away from her. Her behavior is unsettling, but if anyone notices, they don’t comment. Jeongyeon’s sure she just seems like an overprotective girlfriend, which is fine. They can think what they want so long as they don’t get involved.
Sana’s slick, but Jeongyeon’s not as oblivious as Nayeon. Every advance Sana tries to make on retrieving the prized heirloom, Jeongyeon shuts down before Nayeon can respond. Nayeon doesn’t think anything of it, only deeming Jeongyeon’s antics as childish and scolding her afterwards with fleeting kisses.
Then, Sana goes so far as to spike Nayeon’s drink one evening and Jeongyeon figures that enough is enough. The living room is silent after she smacks the glass out of Nayeon’s hand, but Jihyo makes sense of the rising tension enough through her tipsy haze to advise everyone out of the balcony. Everyone but Jeongyeon and Sana.
“Are you fucking kidding me?” Jeongyeon spits, barely being able to hold herself back when Sana smirks with sickening arrogance.
“What? Angry you didn’t think of it first?” Sana inquires, having the nerve to take a few steps closer. Jeongyeon’s fists clench when Sana peers in tauntingly.
“You’re doing this in front of everyone? Are you crazy?” Jeongyeon ignores Sana’s antics as much as she can, knowing that the auburn haired girl is trying to pry information out of her.
“No, that’s not it,” Sana completely dismisses her questions, continuing to voice her thoughts as she circles around Jeongyeon. “Could it be? Are you, Yoo Jeongyeon, Ace of the International Hitmen Rankings, angry because I’m about to kill her?”
Jeongyeon grabs Sana by the collar of her shirt, no longer being able to withhold her rage, and presses her against the glass windows. Sana’s wicked grin of amusement only fuels Jeongyeon’s desire to harm her—injure her until she’s no longer a threat—but then she sees Nayeon’s look of terror through the window.
Abruptly, Jeongyeon lets go of Sana and the latter scoffs, dusting herself off. “You’ve only got so long left with her,” Sana mutters as Nayeon pushes the door open in a late attempt to defuse the situation. “They doubled the bounty because of you.”
“Bounty?” Nayeon asks and Sana scoffs in disbelief. “No wonder she’s still around. I was right,” Sana acknowledges and Jeongyeon can’t lift her gaze from the ground.
“You haven’t told your girlfriend you’re planning to kill her yet,” Sana states before leaving the balcony with a sneer.
Jeongyeon doesn’t have to look up to know how Nayeon has reacted to that. She knows her too well—knows that Nayeon is standing there with her plump lips parted, fingers shaking, and a look of betrayal painted hauntingly across her face. She also knows that despite the confusion and hurt Nayeon is feeling right now, her first priority is never herself, and so Jeongyeon doesn’t startle when Nayeon’s arms drape around her taller frame.
Jeongyeon doesn’t realize she’s crying until Nayeon lulls her with soft hushes.
Night’s breeze is crisp and kisses the tips of their noses, ears, and fingers. Normally, Jeongyeon would be worried about signs of an upcoming cold, but right now there’s nothing to focus on but the girl seated across from her.
They’re still on the balcony, basking in the silence while they can. There’s words that need to be said, but they’re both afraid of what’ll happen once they’re out in the open.
Nayeon takes the initiative, as she’s always done.
“So how much is it?” She refuses to spare Jeongyeon a glance and Jeongyeon can’t blame her. “How much are you guys getting paid?”
“4 million,” Jeongyeon says after some thought, remembering Sana’s mention about the bounty being doubled. “It was at 2 million when I’d taken it.”
“So you’ve known from the start?” Jeongyeon can hear the pain in Nayeon’s voice, but all she can manage is a mumble of confirmation.
The silence that rests between them is once again deafening, until the wind howls in agony. It’s eerie, but not out of place. Nayeon notices it as well, given by how she lets out a chuckle devoid of humor.
“So everything was fake,” Nayeon concludes and Jeongyeon winces from how icy the tone is; it’s a stark contrast from the warmth she usually radiates. “This—we were fake.”
“No,” Jeongyeon finds herself saying before she can even think it through. Once she does, however, she finds her answer unchanging and so she continues. “No, it wasn’t. I swear.”
“How am I supposed to believe you?” Nayeon asks with a pathetic laugh, finally meeting Jeongyeon’s helpless gaze. Her eyes glisten with unshed tears and Jeongyeon’s sure they mirror her own.
“Nayeon, I never—not for a second—displayed anything but my genuine feelings for you,” Jeongyeon claims, standing up so that she can slowly approach the visibly distraught girl. “I planned to. I planned to do a lot of bad things, but as soon as you entered my life—even if I tried my hardest not to admit it—everything had changed.”
“You changed me,” Jeongyeon stands still in front of Nayeon, looking down at the brunette who remains seated with her eyes glued to the place Jeongyeon had previously been benched at. “You taught me how to feel again. The raw emotion of falling in love, I felt it. I felt it with you. With the way you fell in love with me too.”
Jeongyeon lowers herself, carefully reaching up to cup Nayeon’s cheeks so that she can turn Nayeon’s head and press their foreheads together. Nayeon’s eyes are fluttered shut and Jeongyeon is aware the last thing Nayeon wants to do is break down in front of her.
“Please say something,” Jeongyeon requests, but the only response is the chatter of the wind. She can’t blame Nayeon, she doesn’t blame Nayeon, and she’s about to leave when Nayeon leans in blindly and seals their lips together.
“It’s okay if it’s you,” Nayeon comments in a daze when they’re lying in bed together one evening. Jeongyeon looks at her incredulously, but Nayeon doesn’t spare her a glance. “If it has to happen, I want you to do it. To kill me.”
“Nobody’s going to kill you,” Jeongyeon states firmly, confirming the fears she’s been running away from for the past few months. “You’re not going to die. I won’t let you.”
“How long are we gonna keep doing this?” Nayeon asks in exasperation. They’re due to head back to Seoul in three days and Jeongyeon would have to fend off more attackers than the five she’s dealt with while on this trip. “It’s going to get worse. Every day is going to be a question of ‘is this the last one’.”
“Then we’ll live every day like it’s our last,” Jeongyeon presses on, refusing to accept Nayeon’s proposal. “That’s final. I’m not changing my mind on this, so save the argument.”
“You could get hurt defending me! You could die,” Nayeon shouts in defiance and Jeongyeon finally reasons out why Nayeon had spewed such an idiotic suggestion. “I don’t want you risking your life for me.”
“That’s not your decision to make,” Jeongyeon replies softly, reaching out to tuck a lock Nayeon’s hair behind her ear in a manner too gentle for the discussion at hand. “It’s mine and I choose to stand by you. I’m not gonna let anyone hurt you and if I have to die for it, then so be it.”
Nayeon wants to cry, wants to argue, wants to make Jeongyeon change her mind—it’s obvious by the way she looks at the younger female.
“I’ve got you,” Jeongyeon reassures and they find their way towards one another again. Their lips meet with a different kind of urgency: one stemming from vulnerability. Jeongyeon feels all of Nayeon’s worries in the way Nayeon molds their lips together and tries her best to convey her own thoughts by nipping Nayeon’s lower lip and teasing her tongue with her own.
The mattress squeaks in protest as Jeongyeon maneuvers to hover over her petite lover, lips trailing from Nayeon’s swollen pair to opt for taunting the expanse of Nayeon’s pale neck. Hungrily, her teeth graze the sensitive skin and her tongue follows with kittenish laps.
Their heavy breathing mix in the air, along with Nayeon’s stuttered pleas and quiet whimpers. Jeongyeon’s hands travel down Nayeon’s body, parting the latter’s legs so that she can settle in between them. They entangle themselves together, forgetting about tomorrow’s worries and living one minute at a time.
There’s no saying what the future holds for them, this Jeongyeon knows. Happy endings, sad endings, nothing was definite.
But while she’s here, drowning Nayeon’s whispers of her name in passionate kisses, she knows that she wouldn’t have it any other way.