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Megan should've known by now—to not underestimate Yoonchae.
It's the first thought that crosses her mind when her back hits the floor, her shoulders rising and falling as she works to catch her breath. She can't stop laughing. The fluorescent light on the ceiling spins in her vision, harsh and bright, and she can't stop laughing. Then, Yoonchae is right there, straddling her legs, holding her down, pinning her to the floor. Her long, shiny hair falls loose over one shoulder, tickling Megan's cheek, and there is a small furrow between her brows, and yeah—she's pissed. Yoonchae is definitely pissed now. The laughter and the voices of the other girls melt away until there’s nothing left but the dizzying sound of Yoonchae’s heavy breathing and the drumming noise of her own heartbeat, so loud in her ears.
It started innocently enough, as it usually does with them, with a joke, a teasing comment. Then it escalated, as it often does. It turned into a chain reaction: one thing leading to another. Megan is not even sure which part was the last straw for Yoonchae this time—which part tipped her over the edge like this—because Megan has said and done a lot of shit today. She spent the entire livestream hovering in Yoonchae's personal space, teasing her, whispering sweet nothings in her ear, sitting in her lap, trying to kiss her. Can you blame her, though? Yoonchae is just so easy to rage-bait. And she's so fucking cute when she gets flustered and frustrated. Megan can’t get enough of it. That's why she kept going even after the livestream ended. She kept teasing, starting a tickle fight, then Yoonchae was chasing her around the room to get her revenge. Until they collided and toppled together towards the floor.
And now—here they are.
Pinned to the ground like this, Megan's entire body seems to exist just to fit into this moment, into the feeling of Yoonchae shuffling on top of her, straddling her hips, breathing hard.
Megan doesn’t think about moving, and it might be because Yoonchae isn't moving yet, and it might not be. She tries not to overthink it. Because they're always playing around like this. It's not anything new. It's their little game of push-and-pull. It's never serious. But Yoonchae isn't laughing right now. She’s just staring down at Megan, and her eyes are pitch black; her sharp gaze is unyielding and way too full of something—something that Megan can’t place—something that’s a blur of anger and something else.
“What are y'all doing over there?” Someone laughs, and it might be Sophia, but Megan really can’t tell because the voice seems to come from miles away, just an echo of an echo, of a sound. She can hardly hear anything with her heart pounding in her ears like this, with her whole heart beating on her tongue.
All she can think, really, is how much she wants to just—push herself up a bit, and lick Yoonchae's chin, or something, just for giggles, just to see how Yoonchae reacts. She could kiss the tiny mole on Yoonchae's left cheek, below her eye, or the one on her right cheek, closer to her lips.
Almost like she knows what Megan is thinking, Yoonchae presses her hands into Megan's shoulders, pinning her back harder to the ground, and fuck, that’s actually kind of hot.
“So you like to be on top, huh?” Megan teases, and it’s a breathless sound, tinged with laughter. "Okay. Noted."
Yoonchae frowns, but it ends up looking more like a pout. “Shut up.”
“Hey. All I’m saying is, we are in the practice room. You know?” Megan waggles her eyebrows suggestively. “I could teach you a thing or two."
“You are so…”
“Irresistible?”
“Annoying.” Yoonchae huffs, and then she's standing up so fast that Megan feels dizzy with it—the sudden loss of contact, the shift of temperature in the air, all the heat gone in the blink of an eye.
And, okay. That stung a little. Did Yoonchae really mean that? Does she think Megan is annoying? Did she cross the line? Sometimes it's hard to tell—between all the playful teasing, the bickering, the fanservice—the lines are so blurry it's hard to see: where the joke ends and the truth begins.
Megan's head spins a little as she closes her eyes, and tries to regulate her breathing. The world behind her eyelids is all dark and, like this, she can hear everything going on around her: the girls laughing and talking, a blurry stream of words, footsteps echoing, the door clicking shut.
They left, Megan realizes. Turning her head to glance towards the other side of the room, where they were sitting earlier at the table. There's no one else left. Except Yoonchae. Just her, and Yoonchae, and this deafening silence.
Megan sighs, pushing herself off of the floor and rubbing the back of her neck as she makes her way over to the table. "Hey. Ready to go?"
Yoonchae doesn't answer, doesn't look at her. She's just standing there, with her back turned to Megan.
It stings a little. Something in her chest twists painfully. “You’re not, like, actually mad at me, right?” There isn't much space between them, but it suddenly feels like too much, and Megan wants to cross that distance and wrap her arms around Yoonchae, hug her like in those k-dramas Yoonchae likes so much, and make everything okay again. But she doesn’t. Her fists clench at her sides. “You know I was just kidding, right? Just messing around."
“You always do that,” Yoonchae says, “You always…”
“What?”
Yoonchae sighs. “Nothing.”
“Talk to me, Yoonchae.” Fuck. She sounds desperate. “I don’t like this," she says, "I don't like when you're mad at me.”
She hates the way her words come out sounding broken and beaten down around the edges, just so pathetically soft.
For a moment, Megan kind of wishes she had the power to not care if she hurts Yoonchae a little bit. Because Yoonchae hurts her too. The sting of rejection is there everytime Yoonchae pulls away, even in jest. Megan cuts herself on her angles all the time. And they are sharp. They're so sharp.
She can see Yoonchae's shoulder blades shift beneath the white material of her tank top, and then she's turning around, leaning against the table. She looks cute and yet intimidating at the same time, somehow, like this, with her mouth pulled into a hard, sulky line. “You always...confuse me.”
Megan blinks, dumbfounded. “What?”
Yoonchae combs a hand through her hair, frustrated. She looks to the side, then towards the floor. The tip of her tongue darts out to lick at the corner of her mouth, and it’s obscene, really, that Megan's eyes instantly drop to watch that motion, mesmerized. “You want to teach me?”
Megan blinks out of her daze. “What?”
“Teach me.”
It sounds like a command, the way Yoonchae says it. So bluntly.
Megan feels a rush of blood in her cheeks. It's a joke, right? It's definitely a joke. She huffs out a laugh—a nervous little sound.
But Yoonchae isn't laughing. She tilts her head, confusion turning the corners of her mouth down like she doesn’t get the joke.
Megan's eyes go wide with disbelief. “For real? You’re serious?!”
“Yes.”
Oh.
Megan opens her mouth, her heart pulsing at the back of her tongue. Her lips move wordlessly for a moment. It’s like her thoughts are spilling out into a tunnel, taking forever to get out, taking forever to sound like anything. Because teaching Yoonchae new English words and how to pronounce them is one thing, but teaching her how to kiss is an entirely different story. Megan never in a million years expected Yoonchae to actually take her offer seriously. Ever.
But Yoonchae looks completely serious. She looks resolute.
“Okay. Um.” Megan's mouth goes dry. She swallows, hard, then moves closer, face to face. Her whole body is coiled tight with anticipation, ready to burst. When she glances down at Yoonchae's lips, she can feel her own nerves sneaking up on her. "Okay."
They're doing this. They’re really doing this. She's going to kiss Yoonchae.
Fuck.
Megan needs to get her shit together. This shouldn’t feel so loaded. They’ve been this close before. And Megan tries to steal kisses from Yoonchae all the time. Hell, she proudly declared in front of the cameras, in front of thousands and thousands of eyekons, that she and Yoonchae kiss all the time. It’s not a big deal. It’s fine. Friends sometimes kiss. To practice. It’s not unheard of. It’s not a big deal.
But Yoonchae is watching her so intently; her eyes so dark and intense, that Megan’s ears begin to buzz like she’s underwater. Drowning, she thinks. This is kind of like drowning. Like sinking into depths of the ocean, where everything is pitch black, and unknown, and terrifying. And maybe that wouldn’t be such a bad way to die, after all. All she’d need to do is sink.
“Alright.” She grips Yoonchae’s shoulders, anchoring herself into this moment. Her heart is beating so fast she can feel it in her throat. Her voice almost cracks when she asks, “How do you wanna do this?”
Yoonchae gives her a deadpan look. “I don't know," she says, a tiny smirk tugging at the corner of her mouth. "You’re the expert.”
This girl...
Megan feels her eye twitch. “Right. Obviously." She brings both of her hands up to cradle Yoonchae's face, thumbs gently brushing over her cheeks. "Okay. Close your eyes?”
She hates that her voice wavers. She sounds unsure. She sounds exactly as nervous as she feels.
Yoonchae’s eyes flutter shut, and Megan gives her a peck on the lips. A simple kiss, soft and chaste by all means. Tentative. When she pulls back, Yoonchae's nose wrinkles a little. It's so cute, how she keeps her eyes closed, like she's expecting more. Megan smiles as she leans in again, pressing her closed mouth to Yoonchae's. Soft and hesitant, just a warm pressure, at first, a little stiff. Megan doesn't want to seem like she wants this too much. Because it’s just practice, right? Nothing more.
But then Yoonchae kisses her back, and Megan feels every ounce of self-control slip between heartbeats. She kisses Yoonchae the way she wanted to do all day, the way she’s wanted to do for a lot longer than that. And it feels like a first kiss, the way Megan used to imagine first kisses feel like when she was little: eyes closed tight, nerves tingling under her skin, butterflies and everything. Beneath her fingers, Yoonchae’s face is warm, and her hands are very still and firm on Megan’s hips, like she’s concentrating hard, and it’s filling Megan with so much fondness, she thinks she might just explode.
She didn’t know kissing Yoonchae would feel like…this. She thought it’d just be a thing that happens that is funny to talk about in the future. But now that she finally got a taste, it’s making Megan think about things she shouldn’t be thinking about. All the intrusive thoughts she’s kept safely and tightly locked in a box, shoved to the deepest corner of her mind. She thinks about Yoonchae, and her pretty neck covered in hickeys, and—
She should stop.
Megan exhales shakily when she pulls back, just far enough to still be breathing in each other’s space. Her hands slide down, from Yoonchae's cheeks, into the space where her shoulders meet her neck. Megan can feel Yoonchae's pulse under her thumb. She feels their hearts beating in tune.
“Was that—was it good?” She asks, voice quiet and strained, a little self-conscious. “Sorry. I just, I don’t actually have, like, tons of experience...”
Yoonchae’s mouth parts a little, her focus turning soft.
“Unnie,” she says, her eyes trailing over Megan’s face before she starts to lean in. “You talk too much.”
Megan feels a shiver go up her spine at how raspy her voice sounds. Then Yoonchae pulls her closer by the hips, and—oh. She's guiding the kiss like she has the shape of Megan's mouth memorized, like she studied it in her dreams, mapping every inch. When they pull apart, Megan is light-headed and speechless, falling back into her own space in a daze. The world goes blurry, then all at once, it comes back into focus again, and the clearest thing of all—is the girl right in front of her. Yoonchae looks tousled, her lips all shiny and wet, eyes hazed and expectant. She looks too pretty to be real like that.
Megan feels a little dizzy. Caught in a trance. “I’m gonna lick inside your mouth now, okay?” She says, and her words aren’t coming out right at all—they’re all over the place, shaking just as bad as her hands are on Yoonchae’s face.
She licks slowly over Yoonchae's bottom lip, feeling her open her mouth against her own. It's sloppy at first, the kiss, a little messy, but Yoonchae tastes sweet, and once they find their pace, it gets out of control real fast. Megan swallows every little sound Yoonchae makes, she muffles them with her tongue, and Yoonchae’s fingers are tangled in Megan’s shirt, keeping her close. She doesn't want to stop, but maybe they should, Megan thinks, because do friends kiss each other like this?
But Yoonchae doesn't let her pull back. Every time she tries, just to catch her breath, Yoonchae chases after her mouth, searching the distance until they're kissing again, and again, and again.
“I think,” Megan whispers, smiling against Yoonchae's lips. “I think you're addicted to my ppoppos now.”
“Shut up.”
“Make me,” Megan dares her, and Yoonchae doesn't need to be told twice. She shuts her up immediately.