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“Just hear me out.”
“For the last time, no.”
“Ugh. You suck.”
“Whatever.” Jiyeon huffed and clutched her spoon, glaring into the mass of gloopy porridge before her. There were at least five raisins in it. She hated raisins.
Across the breakfast table, Luda tutted, reaching over to fish a few out of Jiyeon’s bowl. “So much for being best friends.”
Jiyeon’s gaze shot up. “You wouldn’t.”
“I just did.”
They held each other’s stare for a few seconds before Jiyeon dropped her head and cursed. Of course Luda would play the friendship card now. She was sneaky like that.
Luda cleared her throat and produced a sheet of folded paper from her pocket with a flourish. “Let me remind you again in case you forgot. As part of the Best Friends Pact, when it is one person’s birthday, the other must grant any one wish, with the exception of anything overly dangerous or illegal. Signed, Kim Jiyeon and Lee Luda.”
“I can’t believe you carry that thing around with you,” Jiyeon said in a flat voice.
“I only brought it with me today.” Luda tucked it away, its purpose served. “You know, because it’s my birthday.”
Jiyeon pursed her lips. “Now I wish I didn’t give you those new headphones.” The headphones in question sat atop a pretty little gift-wrapped box next to Luda’s orange juice. They were painted a vibrant shade of sky blue and looked like earmuffs when Luda put them on. “You know Amazon doesn’t ship here, right? I had to get them delivered to my parents’ house, pick them up over the holidays, then lug them all the way back—”
“Yes, yes, you told me ten minutes ago.” Luda slipped the headphones over her ears and struck a pose. “Thanks again, by the way. Blue is really my colour, isn’t it?”
“Of course it’s your colour,” Jiyeon muttered. “Otherwise I wouldn’t have bought it.”
Luda preened. “Hey, don’t change the subject, though. Are you going to do it or not?”
“Well, now I have to, don’t I?”
“Technically, yes. But if you really really don’t want to, I guess not.” Luda paused, looking momentarily conflicted. “Like, I want you to honour the pact and everything, but not if it makes you cry.”
Jiyeon scoffed, picking at her breakfast. “Don’t be so dramatic. You’re making me sound like a five-year-old.”
“So you’ll do it then?”
“I didn’t say that.”
“Think it over for a bit. You have until the evening anyway. No rush.” Luda rose from the table and donned her coat, gathering up her belongings before leaning down to pat Jiyeon on the head, dodging the slap that followed. “Anyway, I’ll see you in class later. I also put a reminder in your agenda. You should check that out. Bye!” She zipped away, probably to go meet Dawon before class.
“My—what?” Jiyeon lunged for her bag and rooted through it for her beloved leather-bound agenda. A birthday gift from Luda last year. Rifling to today’s page, her eyes widened in horror.
FLYING LESSONS :)
SOUTH PITCH, 7 PM
P.S I’ll go with you for moral support
P.P.S and you can borrow my broom!
The same entry repeated itself every Thursday for the next eight weeks.
She scrubbed at the writing. Everlasting ink. Great.
—
Jiyeon spent the day mulling it over. Between classes, she sought to brew a small batch of Calming Draught in case shit really hit the fan, but ended up accidentally emptying the entire bottle of lavender essence into the cauldron after unscrewing the cap the wrong way. As far as mistakes went, this one was certainly unsalvageable. Hacking at the fumes, she vanished the contents in a flash, then fled the room before the next class could arrive. No wonder she wasn’t a Potions major.
Later, over a lunch of savoury chicken stew with cubed potatoes, Jiyeon consulted a map of the school grounds to figure out how to get to the south pitch. Never in all her years had she needed to take a trip down there. Even the last time she had flying lessons—a touchy subject that no one apart from Luda was allowed to mention—they were held up at the north pitch instead. But then again, that was a decade ago, when she was just an impressionable first-year willing to try anything.
In theory, though, she needn’t be so worried. Sure she still suffered from that debilitating fear of heights borne from a traumatic childhood incident involving a rickety wooden bridge and a particularly gusty day, but Jiyeon was older now—wiser and far more capable than her twelve-year-old self. And it was getting rather embarrassing to have to keep explaining to people that she never learned to fly.
“Ack.” A rogue raisin in her stew? Really? She downed the rest of her juice, snuck a small custard bun into a napkin, then departed for Advanced Technological Charms with her mind made up.
—
“Ugh, I’m starving. Why does my Thursday schedule have to be so horrible?” That was Luda’s way of greeting her.
“Nice to see you too,” Jiyeon said with a roll of her eyes. “Open.”
Luda obeyed, and Jiyeon stuffed the custard bun whole into her mouth.
“Good?”
Luda squealed with delight. The headphones from earlier were looped around her neck.
“Alright, now I wanted to ask you something completely hypothetical,” Jiyeon said, crumpling up the napkin and vanishing it with a flick of her wand. “Let’s say, hypothetically, I attend the lesson today. You would accompany me, right? Just for the first one.”
Luda swallowed hastily, eyes wide and gleaming like gold coins. “Of course! If you want me to.”
“And if you were to lend me your broom, and I end up crashing, dying, and consequently breaking it, you won’t be mad?”
“Relax, Jiyeonie.” Luda patted her forearm. “You’re not going to die.”
“That’s what you think,” Jiyeon said with a pointed sniff. The bell rang then, and the mass of students before them began shuffling into the classroom. “You don’t know what I’m capable of.”
Luda ignored her. “I can’t believe you’re doing this!” she said as she pulled Jiyeon to their seats. “It’s been like, what, ten years since you’ve even touched a broom?”
“Mm. Do you happen to have any Calming Draught on you, by chance?”
“No, why?”
“Just wondering.”
—
After they had eaten their fill at dinner, Luda led Jiyeon down the cobblestoned path leading to the south pitch. It was chilly out, the remnants of winter lingering in the frosted tips of the overhanging trees.
“Remind me again,” Jiyeon puffed as she conjured up a small flame in the palm of her hand to stave off the biting cold, “this is like a remedial class, right?”
Luda nodded. “It’s for beginners who either transferred late in the year or need a refresher. I don’t even think a professor is teaching it.”
Jiyeon screeched to a halt. “What? Then who is?”
“I don’t know,” Luda said. “Teaching assistant, maybe? Or a grad student?” She stopped after realizing Jiyeon was no longer following. “You’ll be fine, really. And I promise that if you hate this first lesson, I’ll never make you go to another one ever again.”
“You swear,” Jiyeon said, eyes narrowing. “On your life, Lee Luda.”
“I swear!”
Jiyeon heaved a deep sigh and envisioned the warm, cozy bed awaiting her return. Netflix. Her fuzzy pillow. They would all be hers in an hour. “Okay. Let’s get this over with.”
—
“Got everything?”
Jiyeon paused, assessing. Luda’s broom was perched in her shaky arms. She had dressed appropriately for the occasion. Her pockets were stuffed with tissues in case she cried at any point. Or barfed, maybe. “I guess so.”
Luda wrapped a comforting arm around her shoulders. “I’ll be in the stands if you need me. You’ll do fine.” When Jiyeon didn’t respond, she gave her a little push towards the pitch. “I’ll even buy you coffee tomorrow…”
“The fancy kind?”
“The fancy kind from the café you like.”
Jiyeon glowered. Luda played her cards well—a little too well. Now that there was coffee on the line, she couldn’t possibly back down. “Fine,” she said, mustering up the courage to wrench open the locker room door and poke her head out. “But if…oh no. No no no.”
“Huh? What?” Luda peered past her, squinting. “Oh, isn’t that Yeoreum?”
“I’m leaving,” Jiyeon said. She turned and walked smack into Luda, who didn’t budge. “Move.”
Luda’s face contorted in confusion. “Wait, why? Isn’t Yeoreum your cousin?”
“Yes, she’s my cousin!” With a hard shove, Jiyeon pushed past her and yanked the locker open. She began cobbling together all her belongings, dumping the heaping mass into her bag.
“Okay? So what’s the big deal?”
“Yeoreum’s twelve years old!”
“Is…that a problem?”
Jiyeon just about exploded. “I’m twenty-two. I can’t be seen like this with a bunch of little kids! Yeoreum would never let me live it down—you know how she is.” She blanched, life flashing before her eyes. Death by utter embarrassment. What a way to go. “I’m out. This isn’t worth it.”
Before Luda could get another word in, Jiyeon shouldered her bag, whirled around, then stopped dead in her tracks.
“Oh, hello. Are you here for the lesson?”
Jiyeon blanked.
“It’s just around the other way.”
No response.
“Hah, um. I’m Hyunjung. Kim Hyunjung. I’m the instructor. For the lesson. Uh, hello? Are you alright?” Kim Hyunjung looked beyond and met Luda’s equally shell-shocked eyes. “Excuse me, are you her friend? Is she okay? She hasn’t been hexed, has she?”
Luda snapped out of it. “Haha, noooo. She’s just, uh…” She gestured aimlessly, then resolved to prod Jiyeon in the back, hard.
Jiyeon blinked. “Hi.”
“Hi…I’m Kim Hyunjung, the instructor.” Kim Hyunjung spoke in a slow, patient voice, the sort of voice you’d put on when addressing kindergartners. “Are you alright? Do you need me to take you to the infirmary?”
Jiyeon shook her head, face slowly heating to a brilliant shade of firetruck red. “Oh. No, I’m fine, Miss Kim.”
“Ah, just Hyunjung works.” An awkward laugh escaped her.
“Okay. Hyunjung.”
“So…the lesson? Are you here for that?”
“The lesson—yes. Yup. And you are the instructor.”
“That’s me.” Hyunjung smiled, an awfully bewildered look overtaking her awfully pretty features. “Are you sure you’re alright? Your face is really red.”
This did not help in the slightest. Jiyeon reddened further. “It’s, uh, allergies.” She lunged for Luda’s arm and just about yanked it out of its socket in her haste to get away. “Excuse us.”
—
“Who is that? Why didn’t you tell me she was the instructor?”
Luda threw a baffled look. “Kim Hyunjung? How am I supposed to know? Maybe she’s a grad student—why, do you know each other or something? She didn’t seem to recognize you.” Her eyebrows furrowed in suspicion. “Wait. Is this because you think she’s…”
Jiyeon shoved her. Luda shoved back.
“I just—I mean, look at her.”
“Oh my god. You are so lame. I can’t believe I’m friends with you.”
“Hey! Do not make fun of me.”
“You do plenty of that yourself, thank you very much.” Luda sniffed with disdain. “Allergies? Really? Severely allergic to pretty girls, more like.” She snatched Jiyeon’s wrist in a tight grip. “So you’re staying, right? Now that you have a crush on the instructor after talking to her for twenty seconds?”
“Shut up! It’s not a crush.”
“Sure, whatever you say.” Luda jabbed her towards the center of the pitch where the other students were already gathered. “I’ll be in the stands. Try not to drool too much.”
—
Eight weeks. Good lord. Jiyeon planted her feet firmly into the packed ground and resisted the urge to keel over and die.
“How about we start with some introductions?”
They went around in a circle: Hyunjung first, then Yeoreum, Juyeon, Soobin, Dayoung, and finally Jiyeon. Hyunjung turned out to be a grad student pursuing a yearlong Mastery in Non-Verbal Wandless Spellcasting. She had been a Flyball whiz throughout her undergrad and recently took on the instructor role as a side job. All that, and she was just a single year older than Jiyeon, who couldn’t even decide what she wanted to eat for breakfast most mornings.
But at least she was tall compared to these first-years crowded around her like little ants. With the exception of one of them, Juyeon, who matched her in height already at the ripe old age of twelve. Jiyeon just gritted her teeth and mumbled an unintelligible, “Kim Jiyeon, fourth-year undergrad”, at her shoes.
Yeoreum piped up. “She’s my cousin. She’s here because she never learned how to fly in first year. When she got on her broom the first time, she peed her pants and cried and then ran away.”
“Yeoreum,” Jiyeon began lightly, debating the pros and cons of casting a permanent binding spell right then and there, “stop talking.”
Yeoreum cocked an eyebrow. “Or what?”
“Or else I’ll hex you.”
“I’d like to see you try.”
“Haha, okay, moving on…” Hyunjung let out a nervous bark of laughter. She had a nice laugh. Not that Jiyeon noticed. “Is anyone cold? It is a bit chilly, isn’t it?”
Jiyeon opened her mouth to answer, then snapped it shut when Hyunjung lifted a single finger. A wave of toasty warmth washed over them. Her knitted scarf suddenly seemed unnecessary.
The first-years gawked. “What was that?”
“Wandless, non-verbal spellcasting,” Hyunjung said. A bashful look came over her. “It’s just a heating charm. I placed it on all of us.” She snapped her fingers, and Jiyeon’s vision, which was growing dimmer in the setting sun, brightened considerably as if someone had flicked a light switch. “And this is just to help you see better. It gets kinda dark after seven.”
Well then. Kim Hyunjung was so out of her league.
—
The lesson kicked off with basic posture, stances, and grips. This was all well and good to Jiyeon, who never struggled much with theory to begin with. She might have even gone so far as to say she was enjoying herself, lolling around in the pleasant breeze with a valid excuse to peek over at Hyunjung every five seconds. Jiyeon vaguely wondered if Luda was bored at all, huddled up there in the stands all alone. Likely not—Luda had her phone out and seemed to be snapping photo after photo of Hyunjung whenever she did anything remotely interesting. Her efforts would be used for teasing material later, Jiyeon already knew.
Partway through the lesson, it came time to actually mount their brooms and hover a mere few feet off the ground. Hyunjung had gone around attending to each student one by one, offering congratulatory high fives before moving on to the next. Jiyeon was up last, pressure mounting by the moment and causing her to go all red and shaky again.
Hyunjung approached her with a reassuring smile. “On a scale of one to ten, how nervous are you?”
“Um, eleven?”
Hyunjung laughed. “Oh, eleven is no big deal. Now if you had said twelve, then maybe we might have a problem. I’m running out of Calming Draught here, you know.”
Jiyeon’s eyes grew wide. “You have some on you?”
“Only half a dose.” Hyunjung patted one of her inside pockets. “I was going to brew a batch earlier today just in case, but there was no lavender essence in the storeroom. Guess they haven’t restocked yet, huh?”
“Hah. Yeah.”
“So…” Hyunjung leaned close, lowering her voice. Jiyeon could smell her perfume from this distance—fresh, sharp, and clean. “I can tell Yeoreum likes to talk a lot of bullshit, but I’m guessing what she said during introductions is true?”
Jiyeon flushed. “I was hoping you’d forget that.”
“Ah, sorry,” Hyunjung said, rubbing the back of her neck with a hand. “But keep in mind: it doesn’t matter when you start learning something as long as you finish it.” She stepped back and motioned to Jiyeon’s broom. “Give it a shot.”
“Okay…here goes.” Shuddering, Jiyeon gripped the broom handle with both hands and clambered on.
“Hold on.” Hyunjung crossed over to the other side and laid a steady hand on Jiyeon’s shoulder. “Try to relax a bit. Your form is stiff.”
Jiyeon tried. Hyunjung’s palm was warm, fingers long and grip sturdy. Terribly distracting.
“Relax.” Hyunjung’s hand migrated to the small of Jiyeon’s back, where it lifted until only the tips of her fingers were in contact. Something coursed through them, and a smidgen of tension leaked out of her muscles like a slowly deflating balloon.
“Limb-loosener charm,” Jiyeon muttered.
Hyunjung nodded, looking sheepish. “Just a touch. Helps take the edge off nerves.”
“Effective.” Jiyeon readjusted her grip, and the broom thrummed with energy. “Good now?”
“Good. Now lift…hey look, you’re doing it.”
Indeed, she was floating a few feet off the ground, bobbing gently in the slight breeze. A foreign feeling, but not at all intolerable.
“Huh. It’s not so bad,” Jiyeon said.
Hyunjung beamed. “I was hoping you’d say that. Nice job. High five.”
Jiyeon took one hand off the broom to reciprocate, an exhilarated laugh escaping her. But before she could regain any semblance of control, she wobbled a slight, off-balance with one hand still uselessly up in the air, then wobbled some more and swerved hard, careening into an unsuspecting Hyunjung and knocking the gorgeous grin right off her gorgeous face. They toppled into the grass.
“Oof.” Jiyeon wheezed, trying to catch her breath. Her fall had been cushioned by, well, Hyunjung herself, who was currently trapped beneath her. Their faces were inches apart. “Uh, sorry. Are you okay?”
Hyunjung just nodded. Her round eyes had somehow gone even rounder, like a deer in headlights.
They stared blankly at each other.
“Shit, sorry.” Jiyeon scrambled off Hyunjung, accidentally kicking astray the broom that had gotten wedged between them. “Let me help you up.”
“No, no, it’s okay.” But it clearly wasn’t okay, judging by the way she remained there on the ground unmoving.
“What is it? Are you hurt?” Jiyeon scanned her up and down before realizing that Hyunjung’s left arm was…crooked, to say the least—and in fact, arms weren’t supposed to bend that way at all.
“I think it might be broken,” Hyunjung said very calmly. Then she laughed a bit, as if that made any sense.
Fuck. “Uh—I am so sorry.” Jiyeon was mildly panicking now. “I-I’ll take you up to the infirmary—does it hurt a lot? I’m not great with healing spells, but I can probably numb it for you—”
“No, don’t worry about it. I just did.” Hyunjung pushed herself up in one fluid motion, then had the audacity to extend her good arm towards Jiyeon. “Class dismissed, by the way.” She smiled as if she didn’t just break a bone.
“Right.”
“Give me a sec to go notify the others, and then we can head back together. You should probably get yourself checked out as well. We both fell pretty hard.” Then she jogged off, long black hair flowing like she had stepped out of a shampoo commercial.
“Jiyeon!” Something collided with her, clutching her arm in a vice-like grip. Luda. “What the hell happened? Is Hyunjung okay?”
“I think I broke her arm.”
“What?”
Miraculously, there was no long-lasting damage. Jiyeon, who wasn’t hurt much in the first place aside from a few aches and bruises, simply needed to sleep it off, while Hyunjung made a speedy recovery after spending a half hour in the infirmary under the nurse’s watchful eyes. Even Luda’s broomstick was unharmed—it had gotten scuffed up slightly, but Jiyeon had buffed and polished it all out as the nurse rubbed a cooling salve over Hyunjung’s mended arm and lectured them both on the dangers of incompetent fliers.
In fact, life more or less resumed as usual, with the exception of Jiyeon now catching occasional glimpses of Hyunjung around school: eating lunch in the dining hall, hunched over thick stacks of papers in the library, strolling through the courtyard with a black-and-white dog padding alongside her.
Apart from their exchange in the infirmary, which mostly consisted of Jiyeon apologizing profusely and Hyunjung telling her to please stop, they hadn’t spoken much at all since Thursday. Jiyeon wondered if she should have asked for Hyunjung’s number—if she even had a number at all, in fact. Smartphones were still more uncommon than not, and out of all the people in her social circle, only she and Luda texted regularly.
A heavy smack interrupted her musings. “What?”
Luda lifted her textbook off the table and reopened it. “Are you even listening to what I’m saying? Or are you daydreaming again?”
Jiyeon scoffed. “I don’t daydream.”
“Yeah. Sure. Imagine what the old Jiyeon would say about this. I know for a fact that she would’ve had the balls to just go up to Hyunjung and ask her out—none of this pining recluse business. But I guess your grades really have gone up since you stopped going out so much, so I can’t really blame—”
“Shh!” Jiyeon clapped a hand over Luda’s mouth and nodded towards the library entrance. “Look, she’s here!”
Hyunjung had just strolled in, hair windswept and bag slung haphazardly over one shoulder. A pair of round, wire-framed spectacles sat atop her nose.
Jiyeon squeaked. “Glasses. Look, Luda, she wears glasses. And she—oh. I think she saw me. Should I hide? I’m gonna hide. Is she coming over here? Is she—”
“Jiyeon, Luda. Hi.” It was Hyunjung in all her glory. “Sorry, I don’t mean to interrupt; I just saw you two from across the way.” She turned fully towards Jiyeon. “I wanted to ask, will you be attending the lesson tomorrow? It’s fine if you’re no longer interested. I know things were…a little hectic last time.”
“Haha,” said Jiyeon. “I mean—yes! Yes, I will be there. Again.” She elbowed Luda for assistance, but Luda had already given up and was face-first in Technological Efficiency: Ninth Edition.
“Okay, awesome.” Hyunjung looked from Jiyeon to Luda and back again. A confused smile grew on her face. “So I’ll see you then?”
“I’ll see you then!” Jiyeon beamed, the tips of her ears burning.
“Heh, okay.” Hyunjung raised a tentative hand and waved before departing to her usual spot by the window.
Luda resurfaced. Winding her fist back, she socked Jiyeon in the bicep.
“Ow!”
“You’re so lame, you’re making me look lame.”
“You already look lame.”
“Ow!”
—
The second lesson was indeed less eventful. It was rather embarrassing to be progressing slower than the cluster of first-years, but if Jiyeon tuned them out, it was like they were never there to begin with.
The sun had set entirely by the end of it. Light from distant school buildings blinked like owl eyes in the night. The first-years zoomed around the pitch, brooms rising no higher than a metre off the ground—Hyunjung’s rules. Jiyeon watched as Yeoreum swerved to avoid a near collision with Soobin, head tossed back with laughter.
“Alright, kids, pack it up!” Hyunjung had momentarily magnified her voice to reach the far ends of the pitch. She looked over her shoulder to catch Jiyeon’s eye and crooked a smile. “And you.”
Jiyeon took a deep breath, channeling some of her old confidence back. This was her moment. She had been planning it since exactly twenty seconds ago. “Actually, I was wondering if you could hang back a bit? If you don’t mind, that is. I’m not too confident with my steering yet.”
“Of course, not a problem. Just give me a moment to make sure the first-years get back safely. I won’t be long.” Hyunjung shouldered her broom and strode off.
True to her word, she reappeared a few minutes later, swooping in from the heavens and cutting to a sharp stop inches away from Jiyeon’s startled face. “Hey,” she said. “Hi. Um, sorry, I didn’t mean to come in so close. Think I miscalculated.” She slipped off her broom and ran a hand through her wondrous, windswept hair.
“I don’t mind,” Jiyeon said. She nearly giggled before catching herself. That would’ve been too much. Too obvious. A fatal mistake. But then she reached up anyway and fixed Hyunjung’s collar without thinking.
Hyunjung’s eyes widened in surprise.
Jiyeon pulled back in an instant. “S-sorry. It just got ruffled by the wind.”
“No, it’s okay.” Hyunjung raised a hand to pat at her collar, a lopsided smile forming on her face. “I don’t mind.”
Jiyeon gulped. “Okay.”
“Okay.”
They stared at each other.
“So, uh, steering?” Hyunjung said.
“Huh?”
“You said you needed help with steering?”
“Oh, yeah.” Jiyeon gave her head a shake. “Steering, yes. I just—I’m having trouble going where I actually want to go.”
“Why don’t you hop on your broom then, and I’ll guide you.” Hyunjung set her own down first, then helped Jiyeon up hers. “Go ahead and lean to the right first.”
Jiyeon leaned. The broom didn’t budge.
“Further than that. No, even further. More—”
“But what if I fall off?” she blurted.
Hyunjung’s eyes softened. “You won’t.”
Jiyeon fixed her with a look. “I have a hard time believing that given my track record.”
“Okay, fair point.” Hyunjung hummed, deep in thought. “How about I secure you then? If you’re comfortable.”
“Secure?”
“Like this.” Hyunjung stepped behind her and placed a hand on either side of her waist. Jiyeon could smell her perfume again.
“Oh.” Jiyeon shivered, and Hyunjung must’ve felt it because her hands began to retract. “No, it’s fine. I’m comfortable.”
Hyunjung still looked a little wary. “Okay, if you’re sure.”
“I’m sure.”
“Alright then. Go ahead.” Hyunjung’s grip tightened. “I’ll make sure you don’t fall.”
Jiyeon leaned again, and slowly but surely, the broom began to turn. She did a couple spins, a bubble of laughter rising in her throat.
“There you go.” Hyunjung released her, stepping back with a grin. Grabbing her own broom, she glided a short distance away. “Now fly over to me!”
Before long, the sky had darkened completely, and even Hyunjung’s heating charm couldn’t offset the bone-deep chill in the air. Fingers numb with cold, Jiyeon slowed to a stop and slipped sideways off her broom into the rough grass, too exhausted to even speak. Hyunjung joined her a second later.
“We should probably head back.” She stood and dusted herself off before extending a hand to Jiyeon. “Lost track of time.”
Jiyeon accepted, struggling to her feet. Hyunjung’s hand was warm, a little overly so, and when she clasped it, the heat traveled up her arm and into her chest, spreading throughout her body with a tingling prickle. She quirked an eyebrow.
Hyunjung offered a bashful smile. “Can’t have you freezing to death, can we? Your nose is bright red, little Rudolph.”
Jiyeon frowned. “Hey, don’t call me little.”
“But you are little.”
Jiyeon opened her mouth, then clamped it shut. She had no defence to that.
“Mm, thought so.” Hyunjung’s eyes glinted something mischievous before she took off towards the locker room, motioning for Jiyeon to follow with a tilt of her head. “Come on, it’s getting late. My roommate is probably going to call any second now.”
“Ah. So you have a phone?” Jiyeon asked. This was her chance to ask for Hyunjung’s number. That would certainly shut Luda up for the rest of her life.
“Yeah, I’ve had it for a little while now. I’m still not great with texting, though, heh.”
Jiyeon smiled, eyes curving into crescents. She’d been told by many people that she had a cute smile, a sweet smile, a smile good for getting anything she wanted out of situations. “Well, maybe, could I—”
Hyunjung’s phone chirped. “Speak of the devil. Pardon me.” She flashed an apologetic smile and picked up. “Hey, Sojung. No, I’m not dead. I’m with a friend—got caught up with something.”
Hyunjung considered her a friend. Progress.
“I’m on my way back now. Aw, Max is waiting? That’s sweet, I miss him. Yeah, we went out yesterday, in the evening. Our usual spot, where else? Anyway, I gotta go.” Hyunjung moved to hang up, then stalled. “Fine, I’ll bring you coffee. But now we’re even, got it? Later.” She ended the call and turned to Jiyeon. “Sorry, what were you saying?”
“N-nothing. It wasn’t important.”
Max. Who was Max? Hyunjung’s boyfriend? No, it couldn’t be. Or could it? Somewhere in the depths of her mind, Luda’s disembodied voice reiterated fragments of advice about not overthinking every little thing lest she one day explode from overthought. Jiyeon tuned it all out. Now was not the time for sound logic and rationality.
“Come on, don’t say that.” Hyunjung nudged her, sporting an easy grin. “Tell me.”
“No.” Jiyeon crossed her arms, well aware she was acting like a petulant child attempting to hide something from an all-knowing parent. “It was really very stupid, I assure you.”
“I bet I won’t find it stupid. C’mon, please?”
“I—no. Can you stop asking?” A wave of bitterness trickled down her throat. The thought of this back-and-forth flirtation with Hyunjung the entire time just to get upstaged by this unknown Max character didn’t sit well in her stomach at all. Along with Hyunjung’s persistence, almost as if she knew what Jiyeon had been meaning to ask and simply wanted to rub it in.
Hyunjung visibly flinched. “Oh. I’m sorry, I just thought…” She trailed off, and her eyes dropped. “Did I do something wrong?”
“No, it—it’s my fault.” Jiyeon suddenly wanted out of this conversation. She needed time alone to properly think without Hyunjung in the vicinity, distracting her just by existing and looking like that and knowing too much. “I have to go, sorry. I just remembered Luda’s waiting for me.” Another lie: Luda was spending the night with Dawon. “I’ll see you around.”
She ran off.
—
“Can you guys stop looking at me like that?”
“I’m literally not even looking at you,” Dawon said, completely deadpan. Indeed, she was currently playing Gardenscapes on Luda’s phone. She was a level 999 grandmaster at Gardenscapes. Or whatever the proper title was—Jiyeon didn’t know. Unlike those two, she only used her phone for important things like Twitter and the calculator app.
Luda, meanwhile, was busy braiding Dawon’s hair into a neat fishtail plait between spoonfuls of brown sugar and raisin oatmeal. Gross.
“I meant earlier.” Jiyeon scowled, swallowing a colossal mouthful of her breakfast sandwich. “You two came in, looked at me, looked at each other, then looked away. What was that all about?”
“We were just wondering what happened,” Luda said. She tied the braid and fed Dawon a generous bite of oatmeal. “To your face, I mean. It’s very cranky. Did someone put raisins in your coffee?”
Jiyeon blinked at her, unamused. “Very funny.”
Luda hummed in thought. “Then is it Hyunjung? What did she do?”
“Ugh.” Jiyeon heaved a dramatic sigh. “What didn’t she do?”
Silverware rattled as Luda bolted up and slammed both hands down on the table, a rare look of fury crossing her face. “What? Explain.”
“Chill,” Dawon murmured. Luda sat back down.
Jiyeon rubbed her temples in anguish. “Well, she—and let me preface this by saying that I’m just guessing here—I think she has a boyfriend.”
Luda’s expression morphed into one of utter disbelief. “Huh? Are you sure?”
“Her roommate called last night as we were heading back, and I overheard. She mentioned someone named Max and how they went out together earlier and that he was waiting for her at home.”
“And? What else?”
“And she said that was sweet of him. And that she misses him.” Jiyeon took a miserable gulp of coffee. “Am I overreacting? After she hung up, I basically just left her there. I mean, like: here I am, working up the courage to ask for her number, and meanwhile, she’s on the phone talking about her boyfriend. There literally cannot be a more embarrassing situation.” Jiyeon winced as if the memory caused her actual physical pain. “She looked really confused…and hurt. I am overreacting, aren’t I? I kinda wanted to go back as soon as I left, but what if Max really is her boyfriend? Then do I just pretend I wasn’t about to ask for her number? That I don’t have the biggest fattest crush on her?”
Dawon paused Gardenscapes. “With all due respect, you are totally jumping to conclusions here.”
“More than just jumping,” Luda added. “You are leaping. Absolutely bounding. Totally—”
“Okay, I get it.” Jiyeon groaned, burying her head in her hands. “Should I go talk to her again and apologize? Or should I wait until the next lesson? What if she doesn’t want to talk to me anymore? At all? Oh my god.”
“There, there.” Luda forced Jiyeon’s head back up and gave her cheek an affectionate, firm squeeze. “Do you even know her schedule?”
“I know what time she goes to the library every day.”
“Well, there you go. Wait for her in the library today, apologize, do whatever. If Max is really her boyfriend, take the L and get out of there. If not, congratulations because now she knows you’re an overreactive dumbass and can make a better judgement as to whether or not she wants to keep flirting with you.”
Jiyeon mulled it over once, twice. “Shit. You’re right.”
Luda regarded her with suspicious eyes. “Were you even listening?”
“Of course I was.” She stood, crammed the rest of the sandwich into her mouth, then departed without another word.
Luda and Dawon looked at each other.
“What does ‘take the L’ mean?”
—
Jiyeon waited a good ten minutes after Hyunjung’s usual arrival time before entering the library herself. She didn’t want to seem overly desperate, after all. Of course, there was a fair chance that Hyunjung wouldn’t even care to acknowledge her and that none of this would end up mattering. But with luck, it wouldn't come to that.
Hyunjung sat in her usual spot, back facing her, typing away at a laptop—impressive. Laptops were expensive and difficult to learn how to use efficiently if you didn’t grow up with technology.
Jiyeon approached with careful footsteps, sucking in a breath. “Hey, um, Hyunjung?”
There was no response.
“Hyunjung? Can I talk to you for a second? Hello?” Hesitating, Jiyeon tapped her on the shoulder.
Hyunjung whipped around, wide-eyed. It seemed to take a second to register who was standing before her, but when it finally sunk in, her eyes nearly bulged out of their sockets, and she lifted a hand to remove both her earbuds.
“Ah,” Jiyeon said, pointing. “AirPods.”
Hyunjung looked down and back up again. “Oh. Yeah. Sorry, I couldn’t hear you.”
“It’s fine.” Jiyeon’s eyes darted around, hunting for a way to diffuse the tension. “Is it okay if I sit?”
Hyunjung blinked. “Um, sure.” She pulled out the seat beside hers and pushed some loose papers out of the way.
Jiyeon sank into the chair. For whatever reason, it was lower than Hyunjung’s and thus exaggerated their height difference even further. She almost wished she had remained standing instead. “I won’t take up too much of your time,” she began. “I’m really sorry about last night. I, uh, leaped to conclusions. I was being stupid.”
Hyunjung didn’t say a word, just continued to peer at her from behind those wire-framed glasses. Jiyeon took it as a sign to continue.
“When you picked up the call from your roommate, I couldn’t help but overhear. And the parts I did overhear—well, obviously I didn’t have any context, so I just sort of took them as they were, and when you started talking about Max, I-I thought maybe…I thought maybe you two were together. Like, in a relationship.”
“In a relationship,” Hyunjung repeated, an unreadable expression on her face.
“Yeah, so, um, if it is true, I-I promise I’ll stop bothering you, and—”
Hyunjung put up a hand, and Jiyeon snapped her mouth shut. “Can I ask you a question?”
“Mhm,” Jiyeon squeaked. She prayed her ears weren’t turning red.
“What were you going to say to me last night?” At the lack of response, she tried again, voice firm this time. “Just say it. Please.”
Jiyeon bit her lip. She was effectively trapped. “I-I was going to ask for your number.”
Hyunjung leaned back in her seat, leaning a forearm on the desk and studying her with a sharp, critical gaze. A moment later, she removed her glasses and tucked them into the front of her shirt before opening her mouth to ask, “Have you eaten?”
“Huh?”
“Have you eaten,” Hyunjung repeated. “Dinner.”
“Um, no?” Was she being pranked? Jiyeon resisted the urge to look around for hidden cameras. “W-why?”
“Sojung’s getting takeout, and she always orders too much. You like fried chicken?”
Jiyeon just stared. “Everyone likes fried chicken. I mean—yes.”
Hyunjung’s lips curved up into a polite smile. “Would you like to come over for dinner? It’ll just be us three. Oh, and Max, if he’s interested. Probably put on a movie too.”
“Max…”
“I’ll introduce you. You’ll like him, don’t worry. He doesn’t bite.”
To be frank, Jiyeon didn’t have a clue as to what the fuck was going on. Nor did she particularly want to meet this elusive Max whom she still, by the way, didn’t know a single thing about. In the end, the only thing she came up with was a single uttered, “Oh”, and when she followed that up with nothing, Hyunjung frowned.
“I’m sorry,” she said with a slight shake of her head, the smile reappearing. “I forgot to ask if you already had plans tonight.”
“Oh,” Jiyeon said. “No, I have no plans. Nothing at all.” This was not entirely untrue. The only plans Jiyeon actually had for tonight involved watching Netflix until she passed out, then sleeping in until noon the next day. Whichever of these two was worse, she didn’t know.
“Okay, great.” Hyunjung rose from her seat and casually passed a hand over the mess spread all over the desk. The loose pages stacked and slotted themselves into binders, then flew one by one into her deceptively small bag. The laptop shut down and morphed into the small, black device Jiyeon recognized to be Hyunjung’s phone. It slipped itself into her back pocket as she shouldered her bag. “Do you need to grab anything from your room first, or are you okay to leave now?”
“Uh…” Jiyeon’s eyes were still glued to the spot where Hyunjung’s laptop used to reside. “Now is fine.”
“Great.” And with a flip of her hair, Hyunjung strode towards the exit, looking over her shoulder as she spoke. “My car is in the front lot.”
“You have a car?”
Hyunjung did indeed have a car. It was some unrecognizable make—a small, boxy thing with a sleek, dark paint job and tinted windows. The interior was a little cramped but comfy, all plush seats and glossy trim. A radio took up most of the dashboard, and when Hyunjung started the engine, it padded the empty silence with something smooth and light. Dangling from the top of the windshield, bright red in colour, was a tree-shaped car freshener. Strawberry.
“I don’t live too far from school,” Hyunjung was saying as she fiddled with the volume knob. “Ten-minute drive. Seven on a good day.”
Jiyeon nodded as if she knew how to drive. Perhaps she should think about getting her license too. Though she really couldn’t imagine anywhere she would even want to drive to. “How long have you had this?” she ended up asking.
“The car? A little under a year. It’s used; I picked it up for cheap and then modified it to make it not look so cheap.” They pulled off the main road and proceeded down a side street lined with apartment buildings before Hyunjung turned into a parking lot and cut the engine. The car doors slid open by themselves. “Let’s go. Sojung’s waiting.”
Hyunjung lived in a substantial but somewhat dreary apartment building. The ceiling was low and the hallways narrow. The walls were a muted off-white shade. They took the stairs all the way up to the seventh floor—the elevator was being renovated, which Hyunjung explained as Jiyeon panted up each step—and finally came to a stop in front of a drab, grey door.
“Sorry if it’s a little messy,” Hyunjung said as the door swung open with an audible click.
The interior was considerably larger than what Jiyeon had imagined—sure to be an enlargement charm of sorts. The kitchen was spacious and cluttered with assorted pots and pans. Beyond it, a sizable dining and common area with a wide sofa, coffee table, and television. A girl with long brown hair, likely around Hyunjung’s age, was busy extracting containers out of a plastic takeout bag sitting on the counter.
“Yo,” the girl said without looking up. “Can you grab some napkins? They forgot to give us any.”
Hyunjung cleared her throat. “Sojung.”
Sojung glanced upwards, then did a double-take. “Oh, right! Jiyeon?”
“Hi.” Jiyeon stepped forwards with a polite smile. “I’m one of the students in Hyunjung’s class.”
Sojung regarded her with a knowing look. “Oh, I know."
Jiyeon wasn’t sure what to say to that. To her right, Hyunjung squirmed, then sidestepped them, clapping Sojung on the shoulder and squeezing hard enough to draw a pointed glare out of her. “I’ll be back in a sec. Gonna get Max.”
Jiyeon sucked in a sharp breath. “He’s here?”
“Of course he’s here,” Sojung said. She began rooting through cabinets in search of napkins. “You haven’t met him yet, right? He’s cute.”
That seemed like an awfully strange thing to say. Jiyeon faltered on how to respond.
Hyunjung reappeared then, a little black-and-white dog clutched in her arms. The same dog Jiyeon had occasionally seen trailing her around school.
She suddenly felt very stupid.
“This is Max,” Hyunjung said. “My dog.”
Max sniffed her. Pink sparks flew out the end of his tail.
“No wonder you said he doesn’t bite.”
—
“Hang on, hang on.” Sojung gasped for breath, bent over in hysterics. “She what?”
Hyunjung thumped her on the back, face split with a wide grin. “She thought Max was my boyfriend.”
“That’s the lamest thing I’ve ever heard,” Sojung said. She shook with residual laughter and tore a massive bite out of a drumstick while Max crunched on a small mountain of chicken bones next to her. “Lamer than the shit this girl says”—she pointed the drumstick at Hyunjung—“mind you.”
“Rude.”
Jiyeon buried her head in her arms and decided against lifting it ever again. “I know it was really dumb. I’m sorry. I just do a lot of dumb things. Like when I broke your arm. Sorry, by the way.”
“Hey, I told you to stop apologizing for that one,” Hyunjung said.
“Well, I’m still sorry about it.”
“Well—”
Sojung mimed gagging. “Enough already. Let’s start your stupid movie.” She twirled her wand aimlessly at the coffee table, and the remote shot into her outstretched palm.
Hyunjung gasped. “It is not stupid.”
“It’s Paul Blart: Mall Cop 2.”
“And what about it? Jiyeon hasn’t seen the sequel.”
“…you know what, never mind. You two idiots are made for each other.”
—
They watched Paul Blart: Mall Cop 2 and finished all the food. It was almost surreal how normal everything felt—sitting in their living room with Max curled up in her lap and Hyunjung’s shoulder rubbing against her own whenever she went for a sip of her drink. She was glad for Sojung’s presence: her easy grins and teasing remarks cut the thick silence that arose whenever Jiyeon was busy overthinking about whether or not she should crack a joke at her own expense to make Hyunjung laugh. Not that it was very difficult to do so. They seemed to share the same sense of stupid humour.
It was nearing midnight when Hyunjung offered to drive her back. Jiyeon was mildly tipsy, courtesy of the soju she and Sojung had split, and found herself clutching loosely onto the sleeve of Hyunjung’s jacket as they scampered across the parking lot. It had started to drizzle.
“Sorry about Sojung,” was the first thing Hyunjung said after they got settled on the road. The streets were slick with rain, but none of it landed on the windshield, and Hyunjung had amusedly dismissed Jiyeon’s suggestion to run back and fetch an umbrella. “She’s a lightweight.”
Jiyeon scoffed at that. “You’re one to talk. All those stories she spewed about having to drag you out to parties only to then take you home an hour later because someone found you vomiting in a bush outside…”
Hyunjung’s cheeks darkened. Jiyeon guffawed the rest of the way home.
Later, as they dawdled outside Jiyeon and Luda’s shared dorm room, neither wanting to be the first to suggest they part for the night, Hyunjung motioned for Jiyeon’s arm. “May I?” she asked.
Jiyeon extended her arm in curiosity. Hyunjung’s fingers curled around her wrist in a gentle grasp as she passed a hand over Jiyeon’s forearm, just barely grazing it. A string of digits began writing itself into existence in neat, tidy script. Her number.
She smiled. “Have a good night, Jiyeon.”
—
“Yeoreum, come on. Don’t make fun of her.”
Yeoreum stuck her tongue out at Jiyeon before hopping on her broom and rocketing into the sky. What a show-off.
Hyunjung waved after her. “Hey, be careful! Not too fast!”
“Okay, mom!” Yeoreum zoomed out of sight.
Shaking her head, Hyunjung snorted in amusement. “She always like this?” she asked as she approached Jiyeon.
Jiyeon crossed her arms, following the Yeoreum-shaped speck until it disappeared behind a school building. “I tend to her avoid her at family gatherings.”
Hyunjung chuckled. “I can see why.” She stopped a few paces before Jiyeon and looked her up and down, eyes twinkling with mirth. “All good over here?”
“Very funny,” Jiyeon said. She was splattered head to toe with dirt and grass stains, a result of purposely bailing off the broom each time before it could climb too high. She had also stopped bothering to clean it off a while ago after one occurrence of mindlessly muttering the wrong incantation and nearly causing a great burst of flame to erupt from the tip of her wand.
Hyunjung snapped her fingers and siphoned the mess off.
Jiyeon grunted out a thanks. She bent down to scoop up her broom from where she had flung it earlier in frustration and said, “Suppose I should give it one last try.”
“Actually,” Hyunjung said, “I’ve got a better idea.”
—
Truly, Jiyeon had no idea how she got herself into such a situation.
“You can open your eyes. We’re not that high up.”
“Right.” Jiyeon’s face remained pressed into Hyunjung’s back, arms wound so tightly around her waist, she was surprised she hadn’t been told to loosen up yet. Hyunjung’s hair smelled faintly of green apples.
“Hey.” Hyunjung released one hand from gripping the broom handle and patted Jiyeon’s side awkwardly. “Trust me.”
“Fine. But you owe me one for this.” Groaning, she turned her head to one side and cracked an eye open.
They were coasting along the perimeter of the pitch, flying slow, looping laps around. Hyunjung was right, they weren’t that high up—just about level with the top of the stands.
“Okay, it’s not as bad as I thought,” Jiyeon admitted. She opened both eyes fully and peered up at the stars above them.
“I was hoping you’d say that.” Hyunjung leaned back, slowing the broom to a stop and turning to catch Jiyeon’s eye with a hopeful smile. “You want to go somewhere cool?”
Hyunjung took them across the lake on the school grounds. They circled above like a great bird of prey, clothes flapping in the wind, then swooped low, just barely inches above the smooth, glassy surface of the water. If Jiyeon wished, she could lean right over and wet her fingertips.
“They say there’s a giant jellyfish in there,” Jiyeon said as they glided over the center of the lake. The wind nipped at her skin, and she huddled closer to Hyunjung. “I’ve never seen it, though.”
“That’s because there is no giant jellyfish. It’s a myth.”
“How do you know?” Jiyeon asked. “You been in there?”
“Nah, a professor told me last year.” Hyunjung hesitated, and the next time she spoke, her tone had flattened. “I’m, uh, not too fond of water actually. Can’t swim.”
That was certainly news to Jiyeon. She frowned, lifting her head. “But aren’t we…”
“Flying over a huge body of water right now?” Hyunjung said. “Yeah. Not gonna lie, the last time I did this, I was alone and so freaked out the whole time, I almost fell in. What a disaster that would’ve been.” She turned partially towards Jiyeon, soft smile dancing on her lips. “But it’s not so bad this time.”
—
hyunjung :0
2:39 AM
Hi, Jiyeon. I hope it’s not too late, and I haven’t interrupted your sleep.
I meant to ask you this earlier, but I forgot.
I was wondering if you’d be free Friday night?
We can do anything you like, my treat.
I do owe you one, after all.
Kim Jiyeon
2:39 AM
:D
yeah for sure!!
i was just joking about you owing me one lololol
but yes i’d love to do anything with you :)
also you didn’t wake me up don’t worry
i was watching netflix hahaa
hyunjung :0
2:41 AM
Sounds great. I’ll see you soon then.
And sorry for interrupting your Netflix. I’ll let you get back to that.
Kim Jiyeon
2:41 AM
yea see you soon!
feel free to interrupt anytime haha, i don’t mind
hyunjung :0
2:42 AM
Duly noted.
Sleep well, Jiyeon.
Kim Jiyeon
2:42 AM
gn!
hyunjung :0
2:43 AM
gn?
Kim Jiyeon
2:43 AM
gn = goodnight
hyunjung :0
2:43AM
Ah, got it.
gn
Kim Jiyeon
2:43 AM
:D
jiyeonie
2:44 AM
LUDAAAAAAAA
<screenshot.jpg>
L
2:46 AM
omg
wow wtf, get it
dawon is reading this too btw
dam why she text like that tho
jiyeonie
2:47 AM
stfu
i think it’s cute
L
2:47 AM
LOL you are soooo…
anyway
happy for u!
jiyeonie
2:48 AM
?
so what?
hello
rude!
dawon, I like you more than luda
L
2:50 AM
thx
- D
—
Hyunjung picked her up at precisely half-past six. She looked exceptionally good: loose black blazer over a fitted white tee, all red lips and soft eyes. Jiyeon, on the other hand, had enlisted Luda’s help in embodying the definition of “desirable but not desperate”—Luda’s words—and ended up feeling a little overdressed.
“Sorry,” Jiyeon said after voicing her concerns.
Hyunjung just shook her head. “Don’t be. You look beautiful.”
Jiyeon thought long and hard over the true meaning of that. Finally, she blurted, “Is this a date?”
Hyunjung’s knuckles whitened around the steering wheel. “Do you want it to be a date?”
“That’s not fair. I asked you first.”
“Then it’s whatever you want it to be.”
“Pfft. That doesn’t answer my question at all.” Jiyeon blew out a breath and leaned back in her seat, gazing up at the roof of the car. She thought about it over and over, rolling the words around her tongue this way and that. “It’s a date then,” she eventually said.
The corners of Hyunjung’s lips quirked upwards.
They ate dinner in a small, cozy establishment that served the best noodles Jiyeon had tasted in ten years (truly), and then they stopped at a nearby café to split a slice of strawberry shortcake and wait out the rain that had gone from light drizzle to utter downpour in a matter of minutes.
“Wow. This is so fucking good,” Jiyeon said. She stabbed a fresh strawberry with her fork and shoved it into her mouth whole, then looked up to find Hyunjung already staring at her. “What?”
Hyunjung didn’t look away. She didn’t even blink. “Nothing.”
Jiyeon swallowed and set down her fork. She leaned forwards with narrowed eyes, resting her chin on her fist. “Are we having a staring contest?”
Hyunjung copied her movements. Their faces were inches apart. “Maybe.”
“Well then. You’re going to lose.”
“I know.”
Jiyeon pondered this for all of one second before Hyunjung leaned in and cupped her jaw with a hand and kissed her just like that.
“Oh,” Jiyeon said after they broke apart.
“Was that okay?” Hyunjung murmured. Her gaze darted from Jiyeon’s eyes down to her lips and back again.
“Yeah. That was fine. More than fine.” Jiyeon blinked, eyes trained on Hyunjung’s. “You totally lost, by the way.”
A crooked smile. “I know.”
—
When they clambered into the car again, Jiyeon couldn’t bite back the grin threatening to take over her entire face, and when she peeked over at Hyunjung at a red light, her expression was mirrored. They drove all the way back with that overwhelming sense of giddiness shared between them. Hyunjung was distracted—the front bumper scraped slightly against the curb as she parked.
“Ah. Sorry,” she said with a sheepish look on her face, and Jiyeon thought it was the funniest thing in the world.
Hyunjung walked her back to her dorm. On the opposite side of the door, a squeak of surprise rang out: Luda—very obviously loitering.
“Hello, Luda.” Hyunjung waved at the peephole.
“I’m not here!” Luda’s voice was muffled. They heard the sound of her scampering off.
Jiyeon grimaced. “Don’t mind her, sorry.”
“No, it’s alright,” Hyunjung said. Out of nowhere, she produced a wrapped custard bun and passed it to Jiyeon. “You mentioned she likes these, right? I saw them at the café.”
Jiyeon was speechless for a good minute. Eventually, her voice barely a hushed whisper, she said, “You really didn’t have to…thank you.”
“Hope she likes it.” Hyunjung averted her eyes, a pink flush rising in her cheeks. “I should, uh, probably get going. Don’t want to keep you too long.”
Jiyeon slipped the treat into her pocket and set a tentative hand on Hyunjung’s forearm. “Thank you. Again. I’ll see you soon?”
“I’d like that,” Hyunjung said. She fidgeted, seemingly at odds with herself, then leaned and pressed her lips to Jiyeon’s. Sweet. Steady. “Have a good night, Jiyeon.”
Jiyeon waited until Hyunjung was at least a hundred seconds away before unlocking the door and screaming, “LEE LUDA!”, at the top of her lungs. They gossiped until morning.
—
At some point, Jiyeon realized she and Hyunjung were more or less together. They saw each other at least once a day, went out together at least once a week. Hyunjung brought her coffee in the evenings and always saved her a seat in the library. They kissed in the locker room when no one was around and took strolls along the lake on breezy days. It was to the point where even the first-years took notice, judging by the way they snickered amongst themselves whenever Hyunjung so much as glanced in Jiyeon’s direction.
But it wasn’t until a particular Friday night—after Sojung had wrapped up one of her larger assignments at work and suggested a celebratory night out complete with dinner and drinks—did Jiyeon come to understand that they were indeed official.
Hyunjung, cheeks flushed and skin shimmering with a light sheen of sweat, had been hanging off Jiyeon’s arm all night as she took alternating sips between her drink and the glass of water Jiyeon had insisted upon. “You wanna know the very first thing she said to me when we first met?” she was saying, words thick and slurred like warm taffy.
“Nooo—”
Hyunjung dodged the smack that came her way, snatching Jiyeon’s hand out of midair and lacing their fingers together. “Nothing. She said nothing. For like a good twenty seconds or something. And then an hour later, my arm was broken. You’re so funny, hehe.”
Luda pounded the table with a fist. “I was there! It’s totally true.” She turned to Dawon beside her and squeezed her arm. “Seriously, I was there.”
Dawon looked as though she was struggling not to laugh. “I know,” she said, giving Luda’s shoulder a solid pat. “Why don’t I get you some water?”
Luda made a face. “Why would I need water? I am very well hydrated, thank you very much. Look!” She drained her glass in three impressive gulps.
“Right, of course,” Dawon said, already flagging down a waiter.
“And then,” Hyunjung continued, “remember when you were trying to ask for my number, but you thought I was dating—”
Jiyeon clapped a hand over Hyunjung’s mouth, pouting. “I don’t like you anymore.”
Hyunjung shook herself free. “Aww, are you breaking up with me?” She batted her eyelashes, a lazy grin forming on her face.
Sojung lifted her head and rubbed her eyes. There was a red mark on her cheek from where it had been squashed against the table. Jiyeon honestly wasn’t sure if she had passed out or simply decided to take a spontaneous nap. “I didn’t even know you guys were official,” she said. Then she sniffed and squinted. “I want more fries.”
Dawon pushed the plate towards her. “I didn’t either.”
“Well…” Hyunjung said, an air of uncertainty oozing into her voice, “I guess we never really talked about it. Properly, I mean.” She fixed Jiyeon with a mildly apprehensive look, something darker swimming beneath.
“Are you asking to be my girlfriend right now, Hyunjung?” Jiyeon asked, biting back a smirk.
“Oh.” Hyunjung scooted closer, propping one arm up on the back of Jiyeon’s chair and tilting her head a fraction of an inch. “Maybe I am.”
Jiyeon snorted in amusement. “You are so drunk right now.”
“I know.” Hyunjung nudged her chin, bringing their lips together in a kiss that was smooth and slick and lasted a little longer than necessary judging by the way Luda choked on her water and Sojung gagged around her mouthful of fries.
“I’m eating here,” Sojung said dryly.
Jiyeon pulled away. “Sorry. She’s drunk.”
“I’m drunk,” Hyunjung said.
Sojung shook her head, sighing. She turned to Luda and Dawon on the opposite side of the table and eyed them. “Are you two gonna do that too?”
Dawon turned tomato red. “No, of course not,” she scoffed at the same time Luda said, “Why, do you want us to?”
They blinked at each other.
“Sorry. She’s drunk,” Dawon said after a while.
Luda nodded sagely. “That I am.”
“Hah, okay.” Sojung pinched the bridge of her nose and let out a weary exhale. “So. Another round?”
—
They ended up getting politely asked to leave due to noise complaints. Luda’s fault, mostly—that girl could really turn into an absolute chatterbox when she wanted to. With nowhere to go and the night still young, Sojung made the executive decision to head back to her place, where Netflix and a plentiful stash of beer and soju awaited them.
One-and-a-half movies later, Hyunjung and Luda had dozed off, sprawled over the couch cushions like twin starfish. Jiyeon was marginally better—her younger years had evolved her into more or less of a sponge when it came to alcohol—and Dawon had volunteered herself at the beginning of the night as the honourable less-drunk one. Sojung had already cut herself off an hour ago and was busy vanishing all the crumbs off the coffee table.
“We each take our own?” Dawon suggested to Jiyeon, giving Luda’s shoulder a shake and waking the other girl with a jolt.
The thought of Hyunjung being hers tickled something pleasant. “Yeah, sure,” she said, rising from the couch and nudging Hyunjung’s leg. “Come on, get up.”
Hyunjung slept on.
“Well,” Dawon said, “good luck with that. Night.” She hefted an unsteady Luda to her feet and carted her away. Jiyeon heard the shower start running a few moments later.
She tried again. “Hyunjung.”
But Hyunjung was out cold, and so Jiyeon was forced to half-levitate, half-carry her to her room while Sojung made silly faces and refused to help. Jiyeon was far past the point of being sober enough to reliably trust her own magic at the moment, that much was clear. Depositing a loose-limbed Hyunjung on her bed, she headed off to wash up and was in the middle of piecing together enough concentration to finish drying her hair with a controlled heating charm when a groan rang out.
“Sleeping Beauty awakens,” Jiyeon said. Her charm wavered slightly, and she bit her lip in frustration.
“What time is it?” Hyunjung croaked.
“Time for you to get ready for bed.” Jiyeon finished the final section of hair and set her wand down on the nightstand. “Come on, it’s late.”
Hyunjung rubbed her eyes and blinked twice as Jiyeon came into view. Then she smiled all bleary-eyed and soft. Cute. “Look at how little you are in my clothes.”
Jiyeon socked her playfully in the bicep. “Don’t call me little. And sorry for borrowing your clothes. I didn’t anticipate a sleepover.”
“S’okay. I don’t mind.” Hyunjung rolled over and sat up with a grunt. “If I’m not back in half an hour, I probably fell asleep on the floor. You’ll have to come save me.”
Jiyeon snorted. “I’ll keep it in mind. And, um, you are okay with the sleeping arrangement, right? Because if you’d prefer, I can totally take the floor—”
“Jiyeon. Your tongue was literally in my mouth an hour ago. I’m fine with you sleeping in my bed.” Hyunjung shuffled to the door, flicking Jiyeon’s forehead as she passed.
Fair point.
Hyunjung’s room offered much to observe as she waited—memorabilia sitting on the dresser and photographs tacked to the wall: one of a pudgy toddler zooming about on a toy broomstick while a woman whom Jiyeon assumed to be Hyunjung’s older sister chased after her; another featuring a much younger, maybe fifth or sixth-year Hyunjung roaring with laughter alongside an equally young Sojung and some other unrecognizable faces; and lastly, slightly lopsided as if it had just been added recently, a picture of the lake on the school grounds, snapped between two pine trees. As Jiyeon watched the needles sway in the breeze, a picture version of herself shot into frame and dashed out the other side with a devious grin. Ah, she remembered this: Hyunjung whipping out her old film camera, steadying a shot of the water; Jiyeon, eager to annoy as much as humanely possible, purposely darting through the shot; and now picture-Jiyeon, zooming around in a perpetual circle.
“I took it last Thursday.”
Jiyeon jumped. “Shit, you scared me.” She looked Hyunjung up and down, quirking an eyebrow. “Sobered up a bit? Nice jammies.”
Hyunjung flushed, picking at the giant Olaf splashed across her chest. “Gift from my niece. She likes Frozen.”
“No kidding,” Jiyeon said, snickering. “How old is she? Already can fly better than I can.”
Hyunjung scoffed. “Four. And you know that isn’t true. Six lessons in—I’ve witnessed your improvement.” She climbed into bed, slipping her legs under the covers and grabbing her wand from the nightstand. There she began to dry her hair using the same heating charm.
“Huh,” Jiyeon said, joining Hyunjung in bed. “I think that’s one of the only times I’ve ever seen you actually use your wand.”
“Yeah, I tried doing it wandless earlier…nearly burned my eyebrows off. Think I’m going to be stupidly hungover in the morning, but nothing a good shot of Booster Draught can’t fix.” She tucked her wand away and stifled a yawn, pulling the covers over her shoulders. “Mm, I think I might pass out again, sorry. It’s so warm under here.”
Jiyeon followed, laying on her back with her eyes trained on the ceiling so that she wouldn’t have to face Hyunjung and stress about if asking for cuddles was appropriate. “Sleep. It’s fine.”
Hyunjung let out a tired noise of dissent. “Earlier, at the restaurant.”
“Yeah?”
“I meant it. About the girlfriend thing.”
Jiyeon’s resolve crumbled. She turned her head to meet Hyunjung’s lidded gaze. She looked wonderfully soft—drowsy and warm and cozy. “You’re really asking?”
“I’m really asking.”
Jiyeon paused, fighting a smile. “Okay. We’re official then. Officially.”
“Cool.” And with a final burst of energy, Hyunjung scooted forward to plant a kiss on the tip of Jiyeon’s nose before settling back into bed and falling into a deep slumber.
Jiyeon stumbled into the kitchen the next morning with bleary eyes and a groggy head. Hyunjung was already up, perched against the counter on her laptop as she supervised the free-floating knife slicing an assortment of apples and peaches on a cutting board. She had changed into loose pants and a slouchy white tee, glasses perched upon her nose. Hair a little messy, face soft and bare—she looked beautiful.
“Sleeping Beauty awakens,” Hyunjung murmured, regarding her with a small smile. “How’s your head?”
“Don’t ask.” Jiyeon winced at the bright fluorescent lights. “Where’s everyone else?”
Hyunjung shut her laptop and set a hand on Jiyeon’s shoulder, pushing her into a chair. “Luda and Dawon left a little while ago. Sojung’s out getting groceries.” She flicked her wrist with a flourish, and the table set itself—a tall glass of cool water, the telltale bright red bottle of Booster Draught, a mug of steaming coffee. She picked up the bowl of fresh fruit and set it down in front of Jiyeon before slipping into the seat next to hers and whispering, “It’s two in the afternoon.”
“Oh.” Jiyeon knocked back a shot of Booster Draught and chased it down with a grateful gulp of coffee. It worked instantaneously, her foggy mind beginning to clear, a tingle of alertness trickling through her sluggish limbs. “I’m…sorry. I’m not keeping you from anything, am I?”
“All good,” Hyunjung said. “I’m free the whole day.” She gestured towards the bowl. “If you want something more substantial, you’ll have to wait until Sojung’s back with actual food. Or there’s a nearby café down the street. I was planning on going anyway since I have to take Max out to the park.”
At the mention of his name, Max barked. He was stationed by the door, leash in his mouth and tail wagging green sparks.
Jiyeon selected a slice of peach, chewed, and swallowed. “Mind if I tag along?”
“Not at all.” Hyunjung paused, eyes flicking downwards. “But maybe put on some pants first?”
Jiyeon stiffened, goggling at her bare legs. “What the—”
“You took them off in the middle of the night,” Hyunjung said, a laugh escaping her. “Something about being too hot. I don’t think you were even awake.”
Mortified, Jiyeon passed a weary hand over her eyes.
“And,” Hyunjung pressed on, “you’re a cuddler, did you know? Certainly the most persistent one I’ve ever encountered. You’re like a koala. No wonder you get so hot at night.” At the lack of response, she stood and nudged Jiyeon, dropping a kiss to the top of her head. “So, you’re welcome to sleep over again anytime. Now be ready in ten! Max is impatient.”
Max dragged them up and down and all over the park until Jiyeon planted her butt in the sand pit and looked him in the eyes and explained to him that she simply could not play fetch any longer. Max barked once at her. Then he dashed off and barked nonstop at Hyunjung until she ceased taking photos of the budding flowers and came over to revive Jiyeon with iced coffee and half a glazed donut.
They spent the whole day together and then the night too. And for all the teasing she had done, turns out Hyunjung was just as much of a cuddler.
—
“Yeoreum, you’re up next!”
Yeoreum—who had never let Jiyeon so much as pat her on the head—leaped into Hyunjung’s waiting arms. “Thanks for the free cookies,” she said through a mouthful of chocolate chip.
Hyunjung chuckled and brushed a few crumbs off her chin. “My pleasure. You stay out of trouble, alright? I keep hearing reports of some little first-year jinxing people in the hallways.”
Yeoreum pouted. “But I only do that to stupid people who make fun of Soobin’s hair.”
“Oh, well…” Hyunjung blinked, conflicted. “No comment then.”
“Actually, I did jinx Jiyeon once,” Yeoreum admitted after a moment’s thought.
“Twice,” Jiyeon said.
Yeoreum stuck her tongue out. “I can’t help it. I don’t like your face.”
“The feeling’s mutual.”
“Okay! That’s enough now.” Hyunjung gave Yeoreum one final pat and released her. “Off you go. Your friends are waiting.”
“Bye, Hyunjung!” Yeoreum popped another cookie in her mouth before dashing off, turning back once to wave at Hyunjung, who returned it with a pleased smile.
“Did she really jinx you?” she asked once they were alone.
Jiyeon shrugged. “Two tripping jinxes. But Luda has fast reflexes, so it was fine.”
“If it helps,” Hyunjung said, tossing Jiyeon her broom and motioning for her to get on, “I like your face very much.”
Rolling her eyes, Jiyeon mounted the broom, allowing Hyunjung to settle in comfortably after. Familiar warmth pressed against her back as she leaned to whisper into Hyunjung’s ear. “The feeling’s mutual.”
They swept across the lake, clothes billowing in the wind. Jiyeon had grown confident enough to fly freely now, and Hyunjung’s steady, solid presence soothed whatever nerves remained. As the sun fizzled out in the sky, the surface of the water sparkled a brilliant orange.
“I could teach you how to swim,” Jiyeon said offhandedly as they coasted over the shore. “Over the summer, I mean. My family has a pool.”
Hyunjung stiffened against her, grip tightening.
“It’s just an idea,” Jiyeon said, backtracking. “I don’t want to force you into anything. I know you’re uncomfortable around water and all, so—um—I thought maybe I could help.”
Hyunjung didn’t speak for a long moment. When she finally did, her voice was barely perceptible above the breeze, and Jiyeon didn’t have to turn to know she was smiling. “Swimming lessons. I’d like that.”
—
Later that year, as the seasons changed from spring to summer, and the air turned hot and muggy and laden with gnats, Hyunjung gifted Jiyeon the new Bluetooth speaker she had been fantasizing about ever since its release (“As an early birthday present! Fine, I swear I won’t buy you anything else.”) and requested that they fly to the rooftop of the tallest building on the school grounds the morning of the graduation ceremony to catch the sunrise and listen to music. To which Jiyeon said no, absolutely not, that’s entirely outrageous—not even for you would I ever willingly wake up that early.
So they went at sunset instead. Hyunjung privately agreed that this indeed was far better after realizing they were both the complete opposite of early birds and dependent on coffee before noon. Not that it mattered much anyway—Luda called after just ten minutes of basking in the setting sun, inviting them to come over and play drunk board games with her and Dawon in the dorm. This was already sufficiently enticing, but then she added that Sojung would be joining them momentarily and bringing along the pretty coworker whom she had been harbouring a big fat crush on for the past month and a half.
“We are requesting backup,” Dawon explained, taking over the call as Luda collapsed in a fit of giggles in the background. “We need our two finest soldiers on the premises. We must outnumber and conquer them.”
Jiyeon and Hyunjung exchanged a knowing look.
“On it,” Hyunjung said.
By the next morning, Sojung was no longer single.
“Mission accomplished,” said a grievously hungover Dawon.
They high-fived sloppily.
“Where’s the Booster Draught?”
“Jiyeon spilled all of it.”
“Then where’s the coffee?”
“Dining hall.”
In the end, it was Sojung who stopped by to drop off four coffees, a bag of flaky pastries, and a big red bottle. “For playing matchmaker all last night,” she grumbled. “Don’t expect it to happen again.”
And for all the times it happened again after that, she charged them ten bucks each. Business was good.
—
“Hyunjung! I told you not to get me anything else for my birthday!”
“Oops, I forgot. Open it.”
“Is this…my very own broom?”
“Take me somewhere cool, why don’t you?”