Chapter Text
Jimin would say she had a sweet life growing up. She was raised in a big house with people constantly bustling in and out. The material things she wanted were always handed to her on a silver platter, even if that came at the cost of her mom’s silence.
She didn’t mind back then. Her dad stepped up instead, the kind of man who could make any day feel like an adventure. When she fell, he picked her up before she even cried, brushing off her scrapes like magic.
That’s how she likes to remember him, full of energy, conquering make-believe missions with his sidekick, Jimin. Some of her fondest memories are of lazy afternoons by the pool, her dad pretending to be a waiter, handing her silly drinks before tossing her into the water with a laugh.
Everything changed a few days after her fourteenth birthday, when her dad had a heart attack. Life shifted overnight. Jimin shut down, curling into herself as her world cracked.
Her mom, once distant, stepped into the light, cradling her in that hospital room as Jimin stared blankly at the machines, the steady beep-beep-beep becoming a lullaby of denial.
When her dad was later diagnosed with spinal cancer, the shift became permanent. He became a shell of the man he once was quiet, angry, drowning in his grief and liquor.
Jimin tried to be there, but it was hard to face the version of him who threw things and screamed before falling into a sad, empty silence. She didn’t want to replace him. She just didn’t know how to hold onto both of them. It felt like gaining her mother meant losing him.
By the time she entered SYNK High School in Seoul, she had decided to reinvent herself. At home, she was quiet, careful, and grieving. At school, she would be different, bigger, brighter, sharper. High school was her chance to finally live the coming-of-age fantasy she’d only seen on TV.
And it worked. Freshman year was her test run. Sophomore year, she bloomed. She was dating Lee Jaewook, the captain of the soccer team, acing her classes, and was well-liked by students and teachers alike. It was the dream if Jaewook’s nagging best friend, Kim Minjeong, wasn't constantly with them.
The name alone made Jimin’s jaw clench. Minjeong transferred during sophomore year, right into their circle, Jaewook’s circle. Jimin couldn’t remember when the hostility started. It wasn’t one moment or one thing. Minjeong just existed wrong. She didn’t do anything; she looked at Jimin the wrong way, laughed at the wrong time, and Jimin was seething. She couldn’t explain it. It was like her body rejected Minjeong’s presence on instinct.
Minjeong didn’t back down, either. She pushed every button Jimin had, smirking through every jab, turning discomfort into a sport. And Jimin always ended up storming off or dragging Jaewook into it, fuming as he tried to play peacekeeper.
Still, Jimin enjoyed her high school life. She’d made friends she genuinely cared about, like Ryujin, her best friend by junior year. And even Jaewook’s friends weren’t bad. Seungcheol, another soccer player, was chill and low-key, always making Jimin laugh with his offbeat questions. He looked like a nerd but moved like a star athlete.
Then there was Huening Kai, the younger one, respectful, goofy, and always near Minjeong, which didn’t help her case. Yizhuo, also younger, was close with Minjeong too, but Jimin couldn’t help but like her. Once Yizhuo started talking, she never stopped, and it was weirdly comforting.
Jimin had everything she was supposed to want: a picture-perfect relationship, a strong academic record, friends, fun, and a school life worth bragging about.
It was the last week of senior year, and Jimin couldn’t stop thinking about how much she’d taken everything for granted. She’d had so many good times, so many picture-perfect moments, but was that really enough? Especially now, when all she and Jaewook seemed to do was argue.
It was never anything explosive. Just little sparks, minor disagreements that turned into cold silences, which eventually led to bigger fights. Jimin hated this version of them. It felt foreign and familiar at the same time, like watching their relationship from the outside and not recognizing it.
She used to rely on Jaewook constantly. He was her safe place, someone she could be herself with, though even that had limits. She still hadn’t let him see her without makeup, not once. Their intimacy hadn’t gone further than heated make out sessions, touches that lingered, bodies pressed too close during late-night moments that led her onto her knees. That line was never crossed, though not because they didn’t want to, it just never felt right enough.
Still, Jimin loved how Jaewook made her feel. Like she was his. The way he would pull her close in public, fingers grazing her waist, eyes always finding hers in a crowd. The way he reminded her of her dad, carefree, spontaneous, always down to run an errand or skip something important just to be with her.
They used to run around each other effortlessly: her at his soccer practices a few times a week, him sitting in the back of her student council meetings, waving like an idiot when she pretended not to see him.
They used to try. That’s what confused her now, how they’d become two people who didn’t know how to meet in the middle.
It probably started when she applied to SM University in Busan, four hours away. She didn’t ask Jaewook to change his plans, and he never offered. That silence stretched, until it started to feel like a wall between them. Still, they made it work. Or at least, they were trying to.
Jimin was trying to enjoy the last week, her schedule full of last-minute graduation prep, events, and countdowns. The last thing she wanted was to deal with a party, but Jaewook brought it up anyway.
“Who’s going?” she asked flatly, seated in the empty student council room. She was at the head of the table, her uniform crisp, glasses slipping down her nose as she leaned on one hand. The glow of her laptop screen lit up her face, casting her in a tired haze.
Jaewook stood beside her, his tall frame bent slightly like he was preparing for impact. His voice lowered, unsure. “You know… the usual.”
Her head tilted, unimpressed. “Mm. Keep going. Who’s the usual?”
She didn’t sound interested, but the raised brow told him otherwise, she was waiting for one name.
Jaewook laughed weakly, rubbing the back of his neck. “Seungcheol. You like him. I remember you said that at the last party.”
Jimin didn’t blink.
He cleared his throat. “Kai, Yizhuo… you know the rest.”
Jimin sat back in her chair, crossing one leg over the other, folding her arms. “Is Minjeong going?”
Silence stretched between them. Jaewook’s jaw twitched.
After a pause, he gave a stiff nod. “C’mon, it’s the end-of-the-year party. You think she wouldn’t be there?”
Jimin nodded once, her lips pressing into a thin line. Of course she would be. And of course Jaewook wouldn’t think to tell her, at least not until she asked.
And suddenly, the last week of school didn’t feel nostalgic. It just felt heavy.
“She’s a dick,” Jimin muttered, eyes still on her screen but clearly not reading a single word. Her brows furrowed, lips twisted into a frown as she leaned back in her chair with a dramatic huff.
Jaewook rolled his eyes and finally sat down next to her, legs spreading out lazily. “Chill. She’s still my friend,” he said, his hand settling on her thigh like that would calm her. “And for the record, she’s not exactly your biggest fan either.”
Jimin swatted his hand away, her chair screeching as she pulled herself back to the table, fingers flicking the mouse just to do something. “Who says that to someone?” she scoffed, her tone sharp, nearly incredulous.
Jaewook leaned back, rubbing his hands over his face, already tired of the conversation. “What is it now, Jimin? Seriously. You two fight like clockwork, and I’m just saying for one night can you do me a favor and not start shit? Please?”
His tone was clipped, his eyes heavy with indifference. Jimin’s mouth fell open slightly, stunned.
“When do I ever start problems with her?” she asked, voice rising. “She provokes me every single time, and you just sit there and let her!”
There was silence for a beat, tension crackling like static between them.
“You know I don’t pick sides,” Jaewook said, tone even, but the shrug that followed made it worse. “You both go at it, don’t act like you’re innocent.”
Jimin clenched her jaw, blinking hard at her screen though the words had long since blurred into nothing. Her chest felt tight, vision stinging.
“How about she suck your dick then?” she snapped, voice low but venomous, a final attempt to take control before the tears spilled. She hated how easily she cried, how frustration always turned into tears streaming down her face, making her feel weaker.
Jaewook didn’t even flinch. The words left his mouth on autopilot, thoughtless.
“She’d probably put out more than you have in the last three years.”
It hit like a slap. But Jimin’s hand got there first.
The sound cracked through the room, her palm stinging as she realized what she’d done. Jaewook slowly turned to her, a red mark blooming across his cheek, his eyes darkening with the weight of the moment.
She stood stiffly, fists clenched at her sides, heart thudding. Everything in her told her to apologize. But something else, something buried under years of biting her tongue held her still.
Jaewook didn’t yell. Didn’t storm out. Instead, he exhaled slowly, then sank down to his knees in front of her.
“What are you—”
His hand found her thigh, gently grounding him as he rested his forehead against her. She flinched at first but didn’t pull away. He stayed there, muttering apologies into the fabric of her skirt.
“I’m so sorry,” he whispered. “I don’t know why I said that. You know I’d never mean it. You know me. And Minjeong she has a…”
Jimin didn’t care how he meant to finish that sentence. She didn’t want to hear Minjeong’s name again.
She ran her hand through his hair once, out of instinct more than affection, before grabbing his cheek. Her acrylics traced the still-warm handprint on his face.
“Look at me,” Jimin said, her voice quiet but laced with steel. “Don’t ever speak to me like that again.”
Her words hung in the air, heavier than either of them expected. Jaewook looked up at her, eyes wide, a guilty flush still coloring his cheeks. He nodded, slow and obedient, like he understood, maybe even regretted it. But regret didn’t undo the sting. Not the one on his cheek, and definitely not the one in her chest.
Jimin offered him a small, tight smile. The kind you give someone when you’re trying to convince yourself that things can still be salvaged. The kind that says I’m okay when everything inside is unraveling.
Her hand dropped from his face, and she sat back in her chair. The guilt was still there, rising up in her throat like bile, but she forced herself to swallow it. Not now. Not while her heart was still unsure, unsure who she was more angry at: him for pushing her, or herself for letting it get this far.
Something in her chest pulsed, an ache, a warning, a truth she wasn’t quite ready to face. This isn’t what I want. This version of their relationship, full of tension and silence, slaps and apologies, didn’t feel like love. Not the kind she used to believe they had.
And yet, here they were.
Trying.
Fumbling.
Pretending.
Jaewook was still on the floor, still looking at her like he was waiting for direction, for her next move. Like he was still depending on her to fix whatever mess he helped make.
She let out a long sigh, more out of exhaustion than forgiveness, and leaned forward, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear.
“I’ll go to the party,” she said finally.
The words felt strange coming out of her mouth, like a truce signed too quickly. But Jaewook smiled at her instantly, a flash of relief crossing his face. He didn’t thank her, he didn’t need to. They both knew this was her way of smoothing the edges, of not letting the week end with more fights, more distance.
Jaewook stood, tugging her gently out of her chair with a soft smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes. He wrapped his arms around her, pulling her close.
“Thank you, Jimin,” he murmured against her lips, the words warm but heavy with expectation. He kissed her, a light peck at first, almost tentative, and Jimin let herself melt into it, even if her mind was still elsewhere.
Maybe she just wanted to forget. Forget how low they sank just minutes ago. Forget the way her voice shook with frustration. Forget the slap. Maybe this was her way of smoothing it over, pretending things were fine.
So she let the kiss linger. Let him hold her tighter. Let his hands grip her waist like he was trying to reclaim something. His mouth moved to her neck, biting softly, then soothing the sting with his tongue. She flinched slightly, though she tried to hide it.
She never really understood neck kisses with Jaewook, they always felt a little performative, like he was trying to make her feel something she didn’t.
Still, she stood there. Let him get his fill. Let him pretend this made things better. Let him mistake compliance for closeness.
When he finally pulled back, his grin was cocky and self-satisfied, eyes raking over her with that same flirtatious glint he wore like a badge.
“Wow,” he said, running a hand through his hair. “You look disheveled, you must’ve really enjoyed that.” He chuckled, slinging his bag over his shoulder. “Don’t worry. At the party later, we can continue.”
Jimin didn’t say anything. She just stood there, lips parted in disbelief, watching the door close behind him. The silence that followed wasn’t comforting, it felt like something caved in on itself. A hollow space where affection should’ve been.
And for the first time in a long time, she felt more alone next to someone than she did when she was actually alone.
When Jimin got home, she went straight upstairs without a word. The last thing she needed was small talk after a day like this. She needed silence, just a few hours without having to pretend like everything wasn’t falling apart. Even the idea of going to the party later felt suffocating.
But she couldn’t stop thinking about Jaewook’s comment.
She knew he wouldn’t actually do anything with Minjeong. And even if he wanted to, Minjeong wouldn’t touch him. That girl was proudly devoted to women and not just any women, but the ones she deemed the prettiest, most elite.
Jimin had heard it all, bits and pieces from their friend group’s lunch table banter, when Minjeong would casually drop stories that made everyone freeze mid-bite. It shocked Jimin to find out Minjeong’s body count was relatively low, steady at six, but somehow those six included girls who seemed completely unattainable.
She remembered one conversation vividly, when Minjeong started listing them. It was supposed to be light-hearted, but it had Jimin gripping her pencil too tight as she tried to focus on studying.
“My first was when I transferred sophomore year, Nayeon. She showed me around more than just the school,” Minjeong said with a lazy smirk, as if it were no big deal.
Everyone laughed when Minjeong tried to explain how it wasn’t her best performance but Nayeon helped, except Jimin, who rolled her eyes so hard it nearly gave her a headache.
“Just say it was awkward and move on,” Jimin muttered.
Minjeong glanced at her but didn’t rise to the bait.
“Then it was Yeri,” Minjeong said, making Kai choke on his water.
“You’re lying,” he gasped, covering his mouth in shock. “Did you only hook up with older girls?”
Minjeong just shrugged, like she didn’t owe anyone an explanation. “It was random. I saw her in the library, asked to sit next to her. Next thing I know, I’m in her car.”
Jimin blinked. She had always seen Yeri as untouchable, surrounded by her tight-knit group of elegant seniors. The idea that Minjeong had somehow cracked that circle irritated her more than it should’ve.
“Who was next?” Yizhuo asked, legs curled up, crunching on chips like this was better than TV.
Minjeong smirked. “You’re too curious for your own good.”
“Meow,” Yizhuo replied without missing a beat.
“The third… I probably shouldn’t say this one,” Minjeong teased, stealing a chip.
“Yah! If you want some, you gotta spill,” Yizhuo snapped, slapping Minjeong’s hand away.
Even Jaewook looked up. “I don’t think you ever told me that one.”
“Was it good?” Seungcheol asked out of nowhere, noodles halfway to his mouth.
“It was really good,” Minjeong grinned.
Kai stood up, clapping like he was witnessing greatness. Jimin glared at her laptop, wishing she had noise-cancelling headphones. Or a time machine.
“You don’t have to explain,” Jimin says not caring about the girls sex stories.
“Plug your ears then,” Yizhuo offered, making Jimin gape at her in betrayal.
“Okay, so it was junior year specifically the year of my… growth spurt.” Minjeong pointed dramatically down at herself, causing collective groans.
“So I can talk about sex but not my dick? Hypocrisy,” she said, tossing her juice carton at Kai.
“Why me?” he pouted.
“You’re an easy target,” she shot back.
“Just finish the story,” Yizhuo urged.
“Fine. You remember that substitute last spring?”
The room gasped. Even Seungcheol clutched his chest like he’d just been betrayed.
“You’re disgusting,” Jimin blurted out, glaring.
Minjeong just smiled, reveling in the attention. “She said that too. Right around the time she was pushing me into he-”
A bag of chips flew at her head.
Jimin sat stone-faced while Minjeong tossed the bag back, still laughing.
“Damn, you really fucked Soyeon? Not going to lie when I saw her she awakened something in me like a bi awakening,” Kai says, eyes wide with awe as he starts to ramble.
“Don’t worry, we will find someone for you. I know you like your boys and girls with dark hair.” Yizhuo says leaning over the table to slightly pat the boys hair, making him blush.
Minjeong stood, slinging her bag over her shoulder. “I got to go, here’s the rest for you dirty fucks. After it was Yuna, then last two were a package deal.”
Everyone groaned in disbelief.
“Wait, who?” Yizhuo pressed.
Minjeong leaned down toward the table, locking eyes with Jimin who happened to look up from her laptop at the time.
“Irene and Seulgi,” she whispered, and walked away.
Jimin shook her head, trying to push the memory out. That conversation had happened back at the start of senior year, but it still echoed in her head like it was yesterday.
It was around the time Minjeong suddenly announced she was done with casual hookups and finally going abstinent claiming her “lucky seven” had to be someone meaningful.
Jimin had scoffed at the idea then, calling it childish.
“That’s stupid,” she had said, rolling her eyes, ready to follow up with something more sharp, something low.
But Minjeong didn’t let her get the last word.
“Jimin,” she said, voice syrupy with sarcasm, “when you’ve actually felt a cock stretch you out, you can talk. Until then, stick to the petty dick sucking you do to keep Jaewook from looking elsewhere.”
Her tone was venomous, but the worst part wasn’t the insult it was the way she rolled her eyes after, like Jimin wasn’t even worth being irritated by. Like Jimin was background noise. Disruptive. Annoying. A mosquito buzzing in a room too loud for anyone else to notice.
Even now, the memory made Jimin cringe.
She blinked, pushing her hair behind her ears as if that might help clear the image from her mind. It didn’t. It just left her more aware of how empty the room felt around her.
She sighed, letting herself fall back onto her bed, arms flung above her head, staring at the ceiling. Everything felt too heavy, her thoughts, her feelings, her resentment, and the fact that she still cared.
Jimin snapped out of her daze a few minutes later, straightening her posture as she looked around her room. What is she doing sulking like this? she thought, a sudden flush of clarity burning through the fog of doubt.
She is Jimin, an ace.
A girl who had boys stuttering with just a glance, who made people second-guess their worth in her presence. She was the same girl who had slapped her boyfriend across the face, and he got on his knees for her.
Literally.
Even if guilt still curled in the pit of her stomach, there was no denying the truth, Jimin had power. She always had. She was wanted. Chosen. Feared, even. And even if that was pushing it, a part of her liked it.
She smirked faintly at her reflection, brushing a strand of her sleek, dark hair behind her ear. Every strand lay perfectly in place, her effort never in vain. Her skin glowed softly under the light, and her neckline drew the eye without trying. She didn’t need validation, but she noticed the stares, especially the ones that lingered on her chest when they thought she wasn’t looking. She never called it out. Let them look. Let them want.
And now she had a party to attend.
Jimin knew she was about to spend the next hour, or more choosing the right outfit, and she was fine with that. The end result was a soft but sultry look: a low-cut top that hugged her body and revealed just the right amount, her collarbones kissed by the thin chain of a silver cross that dangled perfectly between her breasts. She paired it with a short skirt that showed off her toned legs and small kitten heels, not too high, just enough to give her the posture without the pain. Graduation was around the corner, and no party was worth blisters.
She smiled at herself in the mirror, a little smirk playing at the corners of her lips as she applied a swipe of lipstick, deep red, the kind that made a statement without a word.
Right as she capped the tube, her phone lit up.
Jaewook <3 [10:38PM]:
I’ll meet you there, have to make a couple of pit stops. Told everyone to look for you, so you should be found within a couple minutes of walking in.
Jaewook <3 [10:39PM]:
Text me when you’re there.
Her perfectly done lips curled slightly as she read the messages.
Yuuu R my Jimin [11:01PM]:
Just finished getting ready, i’ll be on the way soon.
Yuuu R my Jimin [11:01PM]:
Wish you were picking me up :(
The reply came fast.
Jaewook <3 [11:02PM]:
I know, but my dad is making me pick my sister up from her friends before I can head out. I don’t want to drag you along.
Her fingers hovered over the keyboard for a second before she shut her phone off without responding. She stared at her reflection for a moment, her expression tightening slightly.
I don’t want to drag you along.
Why did that line sting?
She understood his family came first, but still. In three years, she’d only met them a handful of times. Less than ten. It always felt like something he avoided, something he carefully kept separate. She wasn’t just “anyone,” so why did he treat her like she was?
A hollow feeling settled in her chest, and for a moment, the power she’d just embraced flickered.
But she held her head higher, rolling her shoulders back. She wasn’t about to let some text message ruin her night, or dull her shine.
Tonight, she was going to walk into that party and remind everyone who she was.
And maybe, just maybe, remind Jaewook too.