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Soobin slams the door of her busted up Honda a little too hard and Yeonjun shrieks. You would think she’d been mortally wounded.
“Are you trying to kill me?” Yeonjun groans dramatically, curled up in the passenger seat with her DS on her stomach like a personal lap dog.
“We’re going to the store,” Soobin speaks flatly, completely ignoring Yeonjun’s fit. She looks the older up and down, quirking an eyebrow.
“You’ll live.” She adds, turning the key in the ignition. Soobin has that look on her face, the one she has when she’s too focused on a cheer stunt. For some reason, it kind of scares Yeonjun. She won’t admit it though.
“I won’t, actually. I’m delicate.” Yeonjun prods, tapping her stylus away on the screen.
“You’re wearing pajama pants with cartoon shrimp on them.”
“Exactly. A cry for help.”
It’s a Tuesday night. The parking lot lights are buzzing overhead, and the sky is already dark even though it’s barely past eight. There’s something warm about it, though—the way Yeonjun trails after Soobin like a duckling, hoodie sleeves flopping over her fingers, muttering about how she didn’t even want to leave the house.
The cart squeals like it’s dying, Soobin takes too much pride in rolling it around. Yeonjun manages to complain about the noise, Soobin gives her a glare.
Yeonjun ignores it, she always does. Soobin tosses a bag of shrimp chips towards her, not towards the cart.
“You can’t expect me to carry emotional baggage and snacks,” Yeonjun huffs.
“You don’t carry either,” Soobin mutters, already halfway to the drinks aisle.
Yeonjun pauses, blinks, and then jogs to catch up—flashing that grin she always pulls when she’s pretending she didn’t just get her feelings nicked.
“Whoa. Okay. You’re being weird today.” Yeonjun speaks softly, sounding weirdly apologetic.
Soobin doesn’t respond. Instead she just grabs a two liter of Dr Pepper with unnecessary force, placing it in the cart. It clunks against the metal too loud.
“That for me?” Yeonjun grins, peering over Soobin’s shoulder.
“No,” Soobin snaps. “It’s for the ghost that lives in your DS.”
Yeonjun just hums, unbothered. “She’s thirsty.”
They hit the snack aisle next. Yeonjun makes a point to linger by the pocky and shrimp chips, arms crossed, deliberately not saying anything. Soobin sighs—like, loudly sighs—and tosses a bag into the basket without looking.
Yeonjun perks up instantly. “Knew you loved me.”
“I don’t,” Soobin says, dead-eyed.
“Right. That’s why you kissed me like a prom queen in your backseat last night.”
Soobin’s ears go pink, she makes a disgusted face.
“Okay, seriously, what’s your deal today?” Yeonjun asks, voice barely above a whisper. She has to jog again, Soobin keeps walking too far.
“You mad at me? Did I forget an anniversary? Is mercury in retrograde? Do I need to fight someone? C’mon, Soobs, talk to Papa.” Yeonjun purposely adds the last line, trying to crack a smile from the taller.
Soobin closes her eyes for a moment, frustrated. She pinches her nose bridge like an anime character.
“I’m not mad, Unnie. But I will be if you keep bugging me about it, okay?” She mumbles.
By the time they’re in the checkout line, they haven’t really spoken anymore. Yeonjun is terrible at talking back, so she just doesn’t.
The line is way too long for a Tuesday night. The basket is full of snacks and soda and off-brand cereal and nothing that even remotely qualifies as dinner. The cashier looks like he wants to die.
Soobin’s quiet, still moody. Messing with the hem of her skirt, chewing the inside of her cheek.
Yeonjun stands on her tippy toes, arms wrapped around Soobin’s waist from the back. She rests her head on the tallers shoulder lazily, like it’s the most normal thing ever.
“Hey,” she murmurs into Soobin’s ear. “You mad at me?” She knows she shouldn’t keep asking, but her heart races at even the thought of an angry Soobin.
Soobin shrugs. “No.”
“Liar.”
Soobin doesn’t say anything for a second. Then, low—“You gave your hoodie to that freshman.”
Yeonjun blinks. “…Seriously?”
Soobin doesn’t look at her. “It’s not—whatever. Never mind.”
But Yeonjun moves to stand beside her, gently nudging her elbow. “You could’ve just said you wanted it back.”
Soobin finally meets her eyes. “It’s not about the hoodie.”
A beat passes. The scanner beeps. The cashier is clearly eavesdropping.
“You’re the only one who gets to keep my stuff, I promise. I only let that chick borrow it so she’d shut up about being cold.” Yeonjun admits, Soobin snorts out a laugh.
“I know.”
They pay. Plastic bags rustle. The cart still squeals.
They’re parked under a flickering light in the lot, windows fogged slightly. Yeonjun’s picking through a bag of chips. Soobin’s staring at the dashboard like it just insulted her.
Yeonjun taps her leg. “You want the hoodie?”
Soobin nods once. Small.
Yeonjun pulls it out of her tote and wordlessly drapes it over her shoulders like a cape. It still smells like cheap shampoo and something warm and weirdly comforting.
Soobin finally breaks—leans across the console and presses a quiet kiss to Yeonjun’s temple. Not even a real kiss. Just a soft press of lips. Not for show. Not for drama. Just theirs.
“Next time, let her freeze.” Soobin mumbles, almost as if she doesn’t want Yeonjun to hear her.
“You’re so possessive. It’s kind of hot.” Yeonjun hums, barely able to hold back a smile.
“I’m not mad, Unnie. Just wanna be the one you choose.”