Chapter Text
Nayeon moved like a dream, her body swaying with the night air as if she could take flight at 2 a.m. The neon glow flickered across her face, catching the curve of her grin as one hand reached skyward, the other tracing slow, deliberate paths along the girl beside her.
Friday had burned out, and Saturday arrived like a familiar lover—bringing music, excess, and the kind of reckless euphoria she craved. She never missed a party thrown by the wealthiest students, whether they were her friends or just names she knew through tangled social circles.
The alcohol coursing through her veins left her lightheaded, but she welcomed the haze. On the dance floor, tangled with Sana, she felt nothing but the pulse of the music, the heat of bodies, and the weightlessness of being untouchable.
Three years together had made them an open book to each other, pages worn from familiarity. They were the campus’s infamous power couple—two stunning girls with a magnetic pull, turning heads without trying.
"Babe, your dad might check your room again," Sana leaned in, her breath warm against Nayeon’s ear, barely cutting through the pounding bass.
Nayeon only smirked, mischief laced in her voice. "He's out cold—I made sure of it." Then, without warning, she stole a kiss, catching Sana off guard.
Every Friday night, without fail, Nayeon and Sana slipped out of their rooms, drawn to the neon glow of another party. It was routine now—an unspoken agreement that they’d see each other at every gathering they were invited to. Their parents had no clue. Why would they? Both girls excelled in school, their spotless academic records shielding them from suspicion.
Their story began three years ago at a party hosted by Jackson Wang. Introduced through mutual friends—Jihyo, Momo, Dahyun, and Chaeyoung—they clicked instantly. Nayeon, effortlessly social, had a way of drawing people in, her connections spanning far beyond the campus walls.
"Let’s have some fun and forget about the deadlines!" Jihyo’s voice cut through the music as she wove her way toward them on the dance floor.
Nayeon tilted her head, flashing a grin before throwing her hands up. The bass thumped through her chest, the rush of alcohol dulling every inhibition. She was riding the high of the night, fully aware she was teetering on the edge of recklessness.
"Fuck yes!"
Sana, though tipsy herself, kept her balance—her steady presence grounding Nayeon just enough to stop her from completely spiraling.
Around them, the party raged. It felt like every college student in the city was here, dancing like there was no tomorrow, drinking like the night would never end. And maybe, in moments like this, they believed it never would.
Chaeyoung made her way toward them, Momo and Dahyun trailing behind. She tried to keep a straight face—to mask how drunk she actually was—but failed miserably, biting her lower lip as she lifted both hands, middle fingers up in a sloppy, defiant grin.
"My mom would kill me if she found out I lost her Cartier Secret Phoenix Décor Watch," Momo announced as they reached Jihyo, Sana, and Nayeon. Her tone was completely unbothered, and for good reason—she really didn’t care.
"Again," Dahyun muttered, side-eyeing her before nudging Chaeyoung to put her hands down.
"Yes, again," Momo said, raking a hand through her hair and flashing a crooked smile.
Jihyo smirked. "You always lose something, Mo. Pretty sure your mom’s used to it by now." She handed Momo another shot of tequila, which Momo downed like it was water.
"Not Dahyun, though." Momo turned to Dahyun, lips pushed into a dramatic pout. Dahyun, unimpressed, sidestepped her and wrapped an arm around Momo’s waist to keep her steady.
"True."
Out of the group, only Jihyo and Dahyun were still sober. The rest were either on the brink of blacking out or well past it. Dahyun, knowing Momo’s tendency to go overboard, had decided to stay clear of alcohol tonight. Meanwhile, Jihyo had taken on her usual role—the responsible one, the designated babysitter. It was always up to her to make sure they actually made it home in one piece.
Sana rested her chin on Nayeon's head, letting her girlfriend smother her in a lazy embrace. From where Nayeon stood, she could see students passed out on the sofas—some even sprawled on the floor, victims of too much alcohol. Three hours in, and she’d been drinking non-stop, fully aware her tolerance wasn’t built for this. Still, that hadn’t stopped her.
"Think you’re still up for Medusa?" Momo asked, pulling Dahyun close with a smirk.
The music pulsed around them, bodies moving in sync with the beat, the energy relentless. Nayeon's veins thrummed with it, but her head was beginning to ache. She knew they could just hit a convenience store, eat some noodles, chug water, and sober up—but she wasn’t entirely sure she’d avoid a hangover tomorrow.
"No, Mo, she’s done for the night," Sana answered before Nayeon could. "She’ll pass out if she drinks any more."
Nayeon groaned, burying her face into Sana’s shoulder as they kept swaying to the music. "Uh, whatever, Minatozaki," she muttered, pouting—annoyed but not actually mad. Sana knew her limits better than she did sometimes.
Not that it really mattered. Her parents wouldn’t notice she’d been wasted the night before. She doubted she’d even see her father when she woke up. He was always too busy—meetings, business trips, real estate deals. The company was his life, and she knew he expected her to take it over someday. A future she didn’t want, but one she wasn’t sure she had the power to refuse.
Nayeon wasn’t the only one who came from money—her friends did too. It was obvious, from the way they carried themselves to the fact that they all attended one of Seoul’s most prestigious universities.
Jihyo, the only daughter of a teacher and a principal, had practically grown up in the school they all attended for high school. Momo was the second child of the family behind one of Korea’s biggest restaurant chains. Dahyun, the middle child of two accountants, had a knack for numbers she rarely bragged about. Chaeyoung, the only child of two doctors who owned three private hospitals, had the quiet confidence of someone who never had to worry about security. And then there was Sana—Nayeon’s girlfriend, the only daughter of the couple behind one of Korea’s most beloved local coffee brands.
Chaeyoung shot Jihyo a look, signaling that she needed to get off the dance floor—fast. Jihyo caught on instantly. She darted over just in time, grabbing Chaeyoung’s arm before she could puke all over the floor, steadying her in case she collapsed. Meanwhile, the rest of the girls continued losing themselves in the music, laughing and swaying without a care.
Dahyun let out a sharp yell as Momo nearly toppled over, clinging to Dahyun’s waist in a way that almost guaranteed they’d both hit the floor. Somehow, Momo managed to regain her balance, avoiding disaster. Nayeon snickered at them, shaking her head—only to realize she wasn’t much steadier herself.
Watching her friends like this, she wondered how they were the same people she saw on campus during the week—polished, disciplined, excelling in their classes. Here, they were unrecognizable, letting loose in ways that would make their professors’ heads spin. The thought made her chuckle, earning a questioning glance from Sana.
"You okay?" Sana asked, puzzled by Nayeon's sudden amusement.
Nayeon let the pounding music settle into her bones, grounding her just enough to tilt her head up and meet Sana’s gaze. Then, without warning, she leaned in closer, her voice soft but sure.
"I just love you so much," she murmured.
Three years together, countless nights like this, highs and lows woven into their history—and yet, every moment like this still felt like the first time. Overwhelming in the best way.
Nayeon took a deep breath, her gaze locked onto Sana’s. How could someone’s eyes hold the entire universe? If she had to entrust her life to one person, she wouldn’t hesitate. Sana could break it, mend it, or let it bloom at its own pace—she wouldn’t care. Because it was her. Her Sana.
"What is it about being drunk that makes you extra sweet?" Sana teased, laughing softly. "I should buy you a drink every day." She leaned in, pressing a quick kiss to Nayeon’s nose.
Nayeon scrunched her nose, giggling. A rush of warmth spread through her chest, mixing with the alcohol buzzing in her veins. Maybe drinking wasn’t the best for her, but right now, it made everything feel lighter.
"Whatever," she muttered, stepping back—only to feel a nudge from behind.
Momo poked her side, tilting her head toward Nayeon’s pocket. "Your screen keeps flashing—someone’s calling you."
"Yeah, and it's probably not someone confessing their love," Dahyun added, dragging Momo away from the dance floor.
Nayeon reached for her phone, but before she could check the caller ID, Sana’s hands cupped her face. Then—soft, warm, familiar—Sana kissed her. A slow, lingering kiss that melted into the chaos around them.
When Sana pulled away, her voice was steady but filled with something deeper. "I love you, Im Nayeon."
Nayeon smirked, threading her fingers through Sana’s as they followed Momo and Dahyun. "Aw, bad timing. I already have a girlfriend. Better luck next time, girl."
Behind her, Sana scoffed, playing along. "She must be pretty for you to reject me like that."
Nayeon glanced back, grinning. "You have no idea. She’s the prettiest. No words could ever do her justice."
Sana’s giggle was like music to Nayeon’s ears. Even with the bass pounding through the walls, rattling in her skull, she could still pick out Sana’s voice—clear and soft, like it was meant just for her.
As they reached the main entrance, Jihyo and Chaeyoung approached from the opposite direction. Chaeyoung, now visibly more sober after throwing up, had her hands clamped over her mouth, eyes wide with pure misery.
"Someone get me a new toothbrush right now," she groaned. "I can still taste it, and I want to die."
Nayeon immediately abandoned Sana, Momo, and Dahyun, striding over to Chaeyoung with a dramatic sigh. Wrapping her arms around the younger girl, she rested her head on her shoulder. "My poor baby cub."
Chaeyoung let out a heavy sigh, snuggling into the embrace like the overgrown child she was. As the youngest in their group, she and Dahyun were automatically treated like everyone’s babies. "I need to brush my teeth right now," she whined, voice muffled against Nayeon’s shirt.
The others burst into laughter, the sound spilling into the cool night air.
"Alright, let’s go before she starts crying," Jihyo declared, shaking her head.
No one argued. The night had been more than enough—wild, chaotic, and exactly the kind of escape they needed from school stress. The parties were always worth it, and tonight was no exception.
Without hesitation, they fell in step behind Jihyo. They weren’t heading straight home just yet. First stop: the convenience store. A quick break, some noodles, and bottles of water before Jihyo—designated mom friend extraordinaire—hauled them all home. It was a routine at this point.
Even the car they were taking wasn’t technically theirs. It belonged to Jihyo’s mom, forever stationed in front of their school, practically begging to be borrowed.
And like always, they took full advantage of that.
As soon as they reached the car, Nayeon's phone vibrated again, the sharp buzz cutting through the lingering remnants of laughter. Everyone turned to look. She pulled it from her pocket, but before she could answer, the call ended.
Sana leaned in, curiosity flickering across her face, but Nayeon tilted the screen away. Her breath hitched as she stared at the notification—29 missed calls.
Her fingers moved on instinct, redialing. The line rang once. Then twice. Then—nothing.
Sana nudged her playfully. "Are you cheating on me?" she joked, lips curling into a smirk. There had never been a reason to question their trust in three years, no secrets, no whispers of doubt. They saw each other every day, talked through everything. But something about this—about the way Nayeon's grip tightened around her phone—felt off.
Nayeon didn’t laugh. She exhaled slowly, pressing the bridge of her nose between her fingers. Another attempt. Straight to voicemail.
Her heart was pounding now, fast and uneven. Without a word, she met Jihyo’s gaze and released Sana’s hand.
"Ji, take me home first. You can stop by the convenience store after."
Sana's brows knitted together. "Nayeon—what’s going on?"
A pause. Then, a smile—soft, practiced. "It’s nothing."
A lie.
No one spoke as they climbed into the car. The party’s energy had drained from them, replaced by something unspoken, something pressing against the edges of their thoughts. Jihyo drove fast, too fast. Maybe because Momo looked like she was seconds from throwing up. Maybe because she could feel the tension sitting heavy in the air.
Nayeon barely noticed.
Her pulse roared in her ears, drowning out the hum of the engine, the occasional sniffle, the sound of her own breathing. Her stomach twisted, not from the alcohol, but from the sinking, inescapable feeling—
Something was wrong.
As soon as Nayeon stepped out of the car, she moved without hesitation, her gaze fixed ahead. But before she could take another step, Sana was there, fingers wrapping around her wrist.
"Please tell me you're going to be okay," Sana pleaded, her voice barely above a whisper, her worry mirroring the storm in Nayeon’s chest.
Nayeon forced a small smile. "Okay." It was a promise she wasn’t sure she could keep.
She turned to Jihyo, who was still in the driver’s seat. "Thank you, Ji. Please take care of them—especially Sana." Gratitude and guilt tangled in her voice, heavy on her tongue.
Jihyo, ever the steady one, nodded. "I will. You be careful, too."
Nayeon leaned in, pressing a quick kiss to Sana’s cheek. "Goodbye."
Then, before she could hesitate, before she could second-guess herself, she turned away.
Her heart pounded in her ears as she strode toward the garage. She barely registered the cool night air against her flushed skin. Every step felt too slow. By the time she reached her car, her hands were already trembling.
She didn’t think about what her father would say when he woke up and saw her car missing. She didn’t care.
All she could focus on was the road ahead.
As she drove, she lost count of how many times she whispered silent prayers, the words slipping through clenched teeth like a lifeline. Her head throbbed from the alcohol, but it didn’t matter. Not now. Not with this twisting fear in her gut.
Her fingers tightened around the steering wheel, knuckles turning white.
The road stretched empty before her, nothing but the glow of her headlights cutting through the darkness. She had been here before—this feeling, this desperation. But it had never been this suffocating.
Then, the rain started.
Soft at first. Then harder. A relentless downpour, blurring the windshield like the universe itself was grieving.
Fifteen minutes.
That’s how long it took before she saw her.
A lone figure walking along the side of the highway, drenched from head to toe.
Nayeon couldn’t see her face yet. But she didn’t need to.
She already knew.
The breath she had been holding finally rushed out—but it wasn’t relief. It was something heavier. Harsher.
She gasped for air, but it felt like she was drowning.
Nayeon slammed the brakes and threw the door open. The girl ahead lifted her head at the sudden stop, the car's headlights casting sharp shadows across her face. The light was blinding, but she didn’t flinch. She didn’t even raise a hand to shield her eyes.
She just stood there, unmoving—her gaze locked onto Nayeon as if her feet were rooted to the soaked pavement.
Rainwater dripped from Nayeon’s hair, her clothes clinging to her skin, but she barely felt it. A storm raged inside her, more violent than the one pouring from the sky. Relief, dread, frustration—they crashed into her all at once, threatening to pull her under.
Her heart pounded faster. A silent cue.
She took a step forward.
Her body felt weightless, as if she were walking through air, yet her hands trembled, her breath shallow. The sob lodged in her throat threatened to break free, but she swallowed it down. She couldn’t fall apart—not when the girl in front of her was already breaking.
So she had to be the strong one. She always had to be the strong one.
Nayeon stopped half a meter away. "Why didn’t you answer my calls?"
The girl lowered her gaze, her face barely visible through the glare of the headlights. "My phone died," she whispered, voice unsteady.
Nayeon reached out, fingers gently lifting the girl’s chin. That’s when she saw them—the bruises blooming across her neck, trailing down past her collarbone. The small wound at the corner of her lip, the way her body trembled in the cold.
The girl let out a shaky breath, and before she could crumble, Nayeon moved.
She placed her hands over the girl’s head, shielding her from the rain.
"I'm sorry I'm late," Nayeon murmured, voice thick with restraint. "You should’ve covered your head. It’s pouring."
She could feel the sting behind her own eyes, the telltale burn of tears. But she refused to let them fall. Not now.
"You might get sick."
The girl didn’t respond. She simply looked at Nayeon, eyes searching, holding onto something unspoken.
"Are you okay?" Nayeon asked softly.
A slow nod. A quiet hum.
But Nayeon saw right through her.
"No, you’re not, Mina."
Mina heard the worry in Nayeon’s voice, felt it in the way her hands trembled against her. She opened her mouth, her voice barely above a whisper.
"I'm not... but you're here."
Nayeon broke.
The tears she had been holding back finally fell, mixing with the rain that poured down her face. Maybe Mina wouldn’t notice. Maybe the downpour would hide it.
But Mina saw. Mina always saw.
Nayeon buried her face in Mina’s shoulder, her sobs muffled by the fabric of her damp clothes. "Let’s change our deal."
Mina stiffened. "What?"
"The one we made in sixth grade." Nayeon pulled back just enough to meet Mina’s eyes, her grip tightening. "I can’t see you like this. I feel like… I’m going to lose you again."
Mina sucked in a sharp breath.
Her father had never let her go. Not when she was a child. Not now. He was a ghost she could never outrun, his hands leaving bruises on her skin, his words carving wounds far deeper. For as long as she could remember, she had been nothing but his punching bag—emotionally, mentally, physically.
Nayeon knew. She had always known.
"Mina…"
"Be my responsibility."
The words slipped out before Nayeon could stop them, raw and desperate. Maybe it was the alcohol, the headache, the fear clawing at her chest. Maybe it was Sana. Maybe it was everything.
But none of that mattered.
Because she wasn’t going to stand by and watch Mina break again.
Not when Mina had once saved her. Not when Mina had stood up for her when no one else did. Not when she had already lost her once—when Mina’s heart had stopped beating for two whole minutes.
That terror still haunted her.
She wouldn’t survive it a second time.
Guilt clawed at Nayeon’s chest, gnawing at the edges of her conscience. Sana. Sana. Sana.
But Mina was standing right in front of her—battered, bruised, barely holding on. Her eyes, once filled with warmth, were hollow. Lifeless.
Nayeon swallowed the lump in her throat, her voice breaking as she whispered, "Let’s change it. Let’s not wait until 35."
Mina's breath hitched.
"Run away with me," Nayeon pleaded. "As my safety wife. Come be safe with me."
The rain crashed around them, cold and relentless, but neither of them moved. It was all tears and trembling hands, the weight of unspoken fears pressing against their chests.
And then, through the downpour, through the heartache, Nayeon said it.
"Marry me, Myoui Mina."