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The cafeteria at Hyosan High was always too loud.
Ha-ri didn’t mind the noise, though. It gave her something to blend into. She sat at the edge of a lunch table, alone, half-distracted by an archery manual she’d already memorized and a bottle of warm water she had no intention of finishing.
Across the room, Mi-jin was laughing—sharp and chaotic, her voice rising above the hum of conversations like it was trying to pick a fight with silence. Ha-ri didn’t look up, but she knew who it was.
Mi-jin was loud. Always moving, always smirking, always saying something with a dramatic hand flourish and a toothpick between her teeth like she was starring in a movie only she could see.
They weren’t close. Barely even friends. Just two names in the same attendance sheet. Still, their paths had crossed more than once—hallway traffic, bathroom mirror glances, a shared “ugh” during math class when the projector glitched.
And then, once, a few weeks ago:
“You always look like you’re about to stab someone,” Mi-jin had said as she walked backward past Ha-ri near the stairwell. “Blink twice if it’s me.”
Ha-ri blinked once.
Mi-jin had laughed like that was the funniest thing in the world.
🧟♀️
Ha-ri didn’t like being paired randomly, but chemistry class didn’t care. She was halfway through adjusting the Bunsen burner when Mi-jin plopped onto the stool beside her.
“Oh no,” Mi-jin groaned. “I got the Ice Queen.”
Ha-ri didn’t even glance up. “Just don’t break anything.”
“Look at that. A sentence.”
Mi-jin grinned, clearly amused. Ha-ri handed her the hose and flicked the spark wheel without saying another word.
They worked in silence for a bit. Mi-jin hummed off-key, then stopped when she noticed Ha-ri scowling at her.
“You don’t talk much, huh?”
“I do when I need to.”
Mi-jin tilted her head. “Do you ever need to?”
“Apparently. Right now.”
Mi-jin smirked. “I’m honored.”
They finished the lab with minimal disaster. Ha-ri didn’t realize she’d stopped being annoyed until class ended and Mi-jin bumped her shoulder on the way out.
“Not bad, partner. You didn’t even threaten me.”
“Yet,” Ha-ri replied.
🧟♀️
The only reason Ha-ri showed up was because Min-jae had asked if she was going. She hadn’t known what to say, so she said yes just to end the conversation.
Now she was standing awkwardly in Na-yeon’s crowded living room, regretting everything. Music blared through cheap speakers, the air smelled like cheap vodka and someone’s cologne, and the lights were dimmed low enough to trip over furniture.
She scanned the room for an exit—and found Mi-jin instead.
Red jacket. Hair pinned sloppily to one side. A solo cup dangling from two fingers like she’d stolen it just for the drama.
Their eyes met. Mi-jin grinned.
“Well, well. Didn’t think you partied.”
“I don’t,” Ha-ri said flatly.
“Yet here you are. At Na-yeon’s place out of literally anyone’s.”
“I was promised a drink.”
Mi-jin took a dramatic sip. “And chaos.”
“You always this dramatic?”
“Only when I’m bored.”
They ended up standing side by side in the kitchen, Ha-ri sipping fruit punch that was definitely spiked and Mi-jin spinning a plastic straw between her fingers.
“You clean up nice,” Mi-jin said casually.
Ha-ri looked down at her hoodie and jeans. “I didn’t change.”
“I know.”
🧟♀️
“SPIN IT!”
Someone yelled from the living room. A circle of classmates had formed on the carpet, cheering as a bottle twirled.
“No,” Ha-ri muttered under her breath.
“Yes,” Mi-jin grinned. “Come on, we’ve already seen Na-yeon and Gyeong-su almost kiss. Nothing’s worse than that.”
Before Ha-ri could slip away, Mi-jin was already being dragged into the circle. “Mi-jin, your turn!”
With a dramatic sigh, Mi-jin crouched and spun the bottle. It clacked against the hardwood, slowing… slowing… until it landed, unmistakably, on Ha-ri.
The room erupted into laughter and hollers.
Mi-jin blinked, then grinned slowly. “Oh. Well.”
“No,” Ha-ri said again, quietly.
“Too late,” someone called. “Closet’s waiting!”
Mi-jin stood and offered her hand like they were going on stage. “I won’t bite.”
“I don’t believe you,” Ha-ri muttered, but she followed.
🧟♀️
The closet door closed with a quiet click behind them.
It was dark. Not pitch black, but dim enough that Ha-ri could barely make out the silhouette of Mi-jin leaning casually against the wall across from her.
“So,” Mi-jin said, voice low. “Do we stand here in silence for seven minutes or…?”
“I’d prefer that.”
Mi-jin laughed. “You’re so fun.”
Ha-ri crossed her arms. “You’re not taking this seriously.”
“It’s a party game. Not a hostage situation.”
There was a pause. Not exactly tense—but something buzzed quietly in the air.
Then Mi-jin stepped a little closer.
“Wanna mess with them?” she asked. “Make them think we did something.”
Ha-ri raised a brow. “Are you always like this?”
“Only when I’m nervous.”
“You’re nervous?”
Mi-jin shrugged. “You’re kinda intense.”
Ha-ri didn’t reply. But she didn’t back away either. The closet felt smaller now.
“You ever kissed someone because of a dare?” Mi-jin asked.
“No.”
“Want to?”
Ha-ri hesitated. Not because she was afraid. Because she didn’t want to want to.
“…Fine,” she said.
Mi-jin blinked. “Wait, really—?”
Ha-ri kissed her.
It was short. Awkward at first—more forehead than lips—but then Mi-jin adjusted, tilting her head just enough. Her hand brushed Ha-ri’s shoulder.
And just like that, it was real.
Then it was over.
They pulled apart. Mi-jin was grinning—but not like she was joking anymore.
“That was…” she started.
“Stupid,” Ha-ri said quickly. Her voice was even, but her ears were warm.
Mi-jin chuckled. “Yeah. Really stupid.”
“You taste like cigarettes,” Ha-ri said, wiping the side of her mouth with her thumb.
🧟♀️
They didn’t talk for the rest of the party. People teased. Su-hyeok made kissy noises. Mi-jin shot them the finger and went right back to sipping vodka cranberry like nothing happened.
Ha-ri didn’t know what to make of the weird feeling in her chest.
🧟♀️
At school the next day, she didn’t expect anything to be different. She was almost relieved when Mi-jin didn’t say anything in the hallway.
But then in homeroom, Ha-ri sat down and Mi-jin spun in her chair to face her.
“Hey,” she said.
Ha-ri looked up.
“That kiss? It kinda sucked.”
“Thanks,” Ha-ri muttered.
“I’m saying we should try again sometime. Just to confirm.”
Ha-ri stared at her. “You’re ridiculous.”
“Say that slower,” Mi-jin said with a smirk.
Ha-ri rolled her eyes, but there was no heat behind it. “…Maybe,” she said. “When it’s not a game.”
Mi-jin smiled like she’d just won something important.
🧟♀️
Ha-ri didn’t think about the kiss.
Except she did. Constantly.
It would hit her at weird times—tying her shoes before archery practice, opening her locker, walking down the hall behind Mi-jin’s laugh. The memory slipped in like static on a radio: that stupid, off-balance kiss in a too-warm closet, the sound of Mi-jin breathing out a laugh right after.
The worst part was: it wasn’t a bad kiss.
The worst-worst part: it meant nothing.
Probably.
🧟♀️
They didn’t talk for three days. Not in any real way. Ha-ri figured that was fine. They weren’t friends, not really. She could live without Mi-jin’s smug jokes and constant commentary.
Until Thursday, after school, when Mi-jin leaned against the gym windows like she’d been waiting.
“Thought archery was a solo sport,” she called.
Ha-ri didn’t look at her. “It is.”
“What’s your excuse for ignoring me?”
“I’ve been busy.”
“Doing what? Brooding?”
“Training.”
Mi-jin made a noise like a fake cough. “Avoiding.”
That made Ha-ri pause.
She turned slowly. “What exactly do you want?”
Mi-jin shrugged. “Nothing. Just thought it’d be cool to talk to the girl I kissed in a closet.”
Ha-ri stared.
Mi-jin grinned. “Sorry. Who kissed me.”
Ha-ri blinked once. “You’re so full of yourself.”
“Yeah,” Mi-jin said, voice gentler now. “But sometimes I’m right.”
They stood like that for a moment. Ha-ri, quiet and stiff. Mi-jin, casual but watching carefully. The hallway was too bright.
“Anyway,” Mi-jin said, kicking off the wall. “Nice talking to you, Captain Cold. Text me when you wanna kiss again.”
“I don’t have your number.”
“You have my instagram,” Mi-jin called over her shoulder, walking away.
Ha-ri didn’t realize she was smiling until she heard her own breath catch in her throat.
🧟♀️
They ended up in detention together a week later; Mi-jin for swearing in class, Ha-ri for snapping at a junior who tried to hit on her during drills.
“Fate,” Mi-jin whispered, taking the desk beside her.
Ha-ri didn’t reply.
For thirty minutes, they sat in silence, scribbling lines in their notebooks. Ha-ri tried to focus. Mi-jin kept looking at her, tapping her pen against her cheek, like the silence was unbearable.
Then Mi-jin leaned closer and muttered, “So was the kiss a one-time thing or like… a weirdly good accident?”
Ha-ri stiffened. “We’re in detention.”
“Yeah. So whisper back.”
Ha-ri sighed and looked at her sideways. “I don’t know.”
Mi-jin tilted her head. “Is that a no or a maybe?”
“Why do you care?”
Mi-jin grinned. “I told you. Science. Need a second trial to confirm the results.”
They didn’t kiss in detention. But when they were let out, Mi-jin walked beside her like they’d been walking home together forever.
Ha-ri didn’t stop her.
🧟♀️
It was a week later when Mi-jin pulled her aside after practice.
“Five minutes,” she said. “I just need five minutes of your very important schedule.”
Ha-ri narrowed her eyes. “For what?”
“Guess.”
They ended up under the bleachers. It was quiet, except for the wind catching the flag on the field. Ha-ri stood with her arms crossed. Mi-jin looked at her like she was trying not to smile too hard.
“Okay,” Mi-jin said. “You ready?”
“For what?”
“For test kiss number two.”
Ha-ri blinked. “That’s not—”
“C’mon,” Mi-jin said, suddenly softer. “No jokes this time.”
She stepped forward, close but not assuming. Waiting.
This time, Ha-ri kissed her first—but slower. Less guarded.
It felt different. Realer. Still weird, still messy, but quieter somehow. Like no one needed to say anything after.
When they pulled back, Mi-jin smiled—just a little.
“Okay,” she said, voice light but steady. “That… felt like a maybe.”
Ha-ri’s heart thudded. “Maybe what?”
“Maybe not just a dare.”
🧟♀️
They still didn’t talk much in public. Ha-ri wasn’t that kind of girl. But now, when they passed in the hallway, Mi-jin would tap her knuckles lightly against Ha-ri’s arm. Sometimes Ha-ri would buy her milk at lunch.
It wasn’t anything official. Not yet.
But it felt like the start of something that didn’t need to be defined just yet.
And Ha-ri… was okay with that.
Ha-ri hadn’t told anyone.
About the kiss. About Mi-jin. About the fact that they’d spent ten minutes sitting under the bleachers last week, sharing a bag of shrimp chips and pretending they didn’t keep brushing shoulders on purpose.
It wasn’t a secret. But it also wasn’t not a secret.
The only one who seemed to know was Mi-jin.
Which was both a relief and the entire problem.
🧟♀️
“You free Saturday?”
Ha-ri looked up from her tray. Mi-jin was standing across from her, arms crossed, expression unreadable except for the faint glint of amusement in her eyes.
“I don’t know. Why?”
Mi-jin leaned in slightly. “Because I’m taking you out.”
A pause.
“…Where?”
Mi-jin tilted her head. “Does it matter?”
Ha-ri narrowed her eyes. “Is this a real thing or another ‘test’?”
Mi-jin grinned. “Who said science can’t be romantic?”
“You’re unbelievable.”
“And yet, here you are. Not saying no.”
Ha-ri sighed. Loudly. Then stabbed her chopsticks into her rice.
“I’m free after two.”
Mi-jin saluted her and walked off like she’d just won a bet with herself.
🧟♀️
They met outside a run-down coffee shop on the edge of town. It had plastic chairs, bad lighting, and a vending machine that only took 100-won coins. Ha-ri looked around.
“This is where you take your almost-girlfriends?”
Mi-jin grinned. “Only the ones who kissed me twice.”
Ha-ri rolled her eyes but followed her inside.
They sat at a booth with a sticky table and they split a corn dog for no reason. Mi-jin made a game of poking Ha-ri’s cheek every time she zoned out. Ha-ri swatted her hand away.
They didn’t talk about the kiss. Or the fact that Ha-ri’s heart kept doing weird things every time Mi-jin smirked in her direction.
Instead, Mi-jin said, “You’re actually kinda funny when you’re not pretending to hate everyone.”
Ha-ri shrugged. “I only hate most people.”
“Hot,” Mi-jin said, biting into her half of the corn dog.
🧟♀️
It was dark by the time they left. They walked slowly, not saying much. Ha-ri kept her hands in her jacket pockets. Mi-jin kept brushing into her like she forgot how to walk in a straight line.
“You’re doing that on purpose,” Ha-ri said after the fourth time.
“I like annoying you,” Mi-jin said.
Ha-ri stopped. “You like me, huh?”
Mi-jin froze.
It was a joke. A light jab. But Ha-ri heard the silence behind it.
“…I might,” Mi-jin said after a second. “A little.”
Ha-ri’s pulse jumped.
“Oh.”
Mi-jin looked at her. “You gonna run away now?”
“No.”
“Good. I’m cold and I need your jacket.”
Ha-ri rolled her eyes and took it off, throwing it at her head. Mi-jin laughed and wore it like it belonged to her.
They kept walking. Closer, this time.
🧟♀️
When they reached her front gate, neither of them moved right away.
Mi-jin rocked on her heels. “So… not a date, huh?”
Ha-ri looked at her. “…Do you want it to be?”
Mi-jin raised a brow. “Do you?”
Silence. Not tense this time. Just soft.
Then Ha-ri reached forward, took the edge of her own jacket still on Mi-jin’s shoulders, and pulled her forward gently.
The kiss was light. Just a second or two. Familiar now. Less awkward. Warmer.
When they parted, Mi-jin blinked. “Okay. So, definitely a date.”
“Yeah,” Ha-ri murmured. “I guess it was.”
Mi-jin smiled. “Wanna go on another one?”
Ha-ri nodded. “As long as you don’t call it science.”
“No promises.”