Work Text:
“Jimin!”
The door to their dorm clicks open, creaking as it swings open. Minjeong enters wobbly—the excitement evident from her cheery tone and rushed movements—slightly losing balance while struggling to remove her shoes at the entrance as the door clicks shut behind her.
She’s wearing a washed out navy cap, gray oversized hoodie falling to the middle of her thighs over her lengthy flared white skirt and a slightly pink mask that covers the majority of her face. But even then, it couldn’t hide the shimmering eyes and beaming smile Jimin has learned to recognize throughout the years.
Minjeong took a trip to the salon this morning, the rest of the members went yesterday—changed their image and confirmed their concepts for their new comeback’s jacket fitting—but she wasn’t able to attend with them due to scheduling conflicts.
The members haven’t seen each other much until recently despite living in the same complex. Caught up in individual promotion of name brands and solo activities alongside scheduling inconsistencies, there hasn’t been much time for them to share a meal like they had done in their trainee days. Needless to say despite comeback preparations being exhaustive, Jimin appreciates the time she spends with her members. She had grown to miss them with each passing day.
Jimin is seated at the edge of the couch—a remote in her hand binging a Netflix documentary about ocean wildlife on a Sunday to kill time, in white-washed hoodie too large for her frame, knees up to her chest with her toes curled—how it is whenever she’s concentrated—when Minjeong enters the dorms. She whips her head to the door—glasses threatening to fall off her face—when her name is called with the tone she recognizes.
“Look!” Minjeong exclaimed, taking her cap off and rushing towards the older one in small shuffled steps, socks slipping against the wooden tiles. Minjeong reveals her changed hair, she dyed it a darker brown, tinged with red—it was short.
It looked good—way too good, Jimin dared to think.
Caught up in a daze, she stared at the younger one blankly in an attempt to reorganize her thoughts. Minjeong slightly tilts her head confused by the lack of reaction with her brows furrowing in concern and the edges of her mouth dropping into a slight frown, she rambles. “Do you not like it? It’s my first time having it this short, I told them—”
Jimin cuts her off. Her free hand abruptly reaches up to the younger one, patting down the stray hairs caused by friction of the cap, brushing a stray strand of hair behind her ear and swiftly taking a side of her mask off in one stroke—Minjeong leans into her touch when the cool of Jimin’s fingertips graze against her flushed face. Jimin smiles brightly, eyes radiant while she caresses Minjeong’s warm face with her knuckles.
“I like it. You’re so pretty,” Jimin says softly, the last few words coming out breathier than she anticipated. She meant it, and maybe she meant more than she let on.
Minjeong smiles, crescents folding gently in her eyes as a blush slowly creeps up from her neck into her cheeks. She bites her lower lip to attempt to conceal an impending grin but fails to contain herself. Jimin was always too good with her words, everyone knows this.
“I’m going to show Aeri and Ning.” Minjeong slips from Jimin’s fingertips—in a somewhat teasing manner if you would ask Jimin—as she skips cheerfully down the hall to knock on her member’s doors. The squeals travel through the hallway as they express their excitement for Minjeong’s transformation.
Jimin chooses to ignore the swirl forming in her stomach and the heat that rises up her skin. She attempts to reshift her focus on the pictures on the screen. Jimin lightly grumbles when she realizes she’s attempting the impossible—not batting an eye when her favorite shark gets gruesomely attacked by a whale.
She clicks it off and tosses the remote somewhere on the couch, landing with a cushioned thud. Jimin takes laps around the neighborhood, circling the building of their dorm. Despite it being the busiest time of the day, the traffic evident from car horns and chatter of the pedestrians couldn’t penetrate the thoughts in her head.
Minjeong looked cute with the new haircut—she had always looked cute. This was something she would never deny. She convinces herself that nothing was particularly different.
Jimin blames the fluttering feeling in her stomach on her lack of breakfast. She decides to eat instant noodles when she returns.
—
Jimin realizes it was much more than that.
They’re at an award show, performing their new comeback album with the hopes of winning a couple of trophies. Their new songs have been received relatively well, through their promotions they garnered many music show wins and traction through social media. It was no surprise that the group were invited to continue performing at multiple award shows.
Newly seated at the audience, their faces are flushed with pink, breaths irregular from the intensive workout of their choreography. Jimin feels the fabric of their outfits melding into her skin as she searches for any small passing breeze. It reminds her why summer comebacks were never her favorite.
The flashing lights before her redirect her attention, signaling the start of another performance. It’s too loud, she thinks. The bass blares from the next stage, shaking the floor beneath them as the surrounding fans erupt in cheers. Perhaps she feels overstimulated because they have been there for hours, with multiple still awaiting them.
The group is nearing the end of their promotions now and honestly, Jimin can’t wait for the opportunity to sleep past eight. The past few weeks have been grueling—nonstop performances, fan meetings, and interviews—and although her profession demands this type of expectation, the physical labor always managed to catch up in one way or another.
The concept for this comeback is much different from what they usually perform in. Darker, more mature—perhaps it’s because they’ve aged slightly both in their group styling and individual appearances. It showcases muted and elegant colors, a drastic contrast from their previous colorful and youthful appearances the public is used to receiving. Thankfully, despite this difference their fans seemed to be more receptive to their new image. Thankfully because in all honesty Jimin prefers this too—well for more reasons than one.
Jimin feels she needs to thank their stylist today. Minjeong’s eyes are tinted a slight gray from contacts, it matches perfectly with the red brown hue of her hair. It’s unfair how well the concept suits her. Even through the mirror of their backstage waiting room, Jimin never failed to mouth the words “Minjeong, pretty” whenever they made eye contact—Jimin smiling smugly whenever Minjeong got shy from her compliments, their makeup artist telling Jimin to stop because she couldn’t apply makeup properly with Minjeong’s consistent smiling.
It’s embarrassing how much Jimin feels drawn to Minjeong—she realizes. Jimin couldn’t help sneaking glances at Minjeong during their performances, receiving and directing cheeky smiles while anticipating the moments when their backs faced the audience for a brief grazing of the hand. And even then, their interactions on and off stage weren’t enough for her. Not enough of whatever she thought she needed—she couldn’t tell you what that was herself.
Jimin couldn’t emphasize enough about how beautiful she was tonight—she thinks their team got tired of her saying the same things. She would definitely be caught watching fancams of Minjeong whenever they are released—let them tease her about it, she doesn’t care. Afterall, she’s just supporting her fellow group member.
Jimin behaved “cheerfully” today. Not because she noticed herself but because Aeri told her, saying it confused her as she playfully laughed at Jimin’s silly gestures and overly beaming display. Not that she wasn’t like this normally but she was just overly “Jiminie” today—Aeri’s words not hers.
Jimin thinks maybe—at the slight possibility—of her demeanor being influenced by the way Minjeong teased her today on stage, sticking her tongue out to prove a point. Minjeong who was sitting beside her on the right currently, body angled towards Jimin as she moves her foot to the rhythm of the current song with amusement painted across her face—
Oh.
Their eyes meet. There's this playfulness in the curves of Minjeong’s eyes that ignites a tide of butterflies in Jimin’s stomach. Minjeong’s lips are folded in a slight smile, probably from the stage performance—the one that Jimin didn’t notice ending.
Oh. I’m staring.
Jimin’s eyes waver, darting between the sides as she quickly turns her head in the opposite direction—disguising it as a sudden shift in attention. She feels her cheeks flush, feeling hotter than she would like to be—warmer than it already was from the heat of their performance. Jimin touches the back of her hand to her cheek, hoping the temperature difference of her cooler skin would tame her inflamed cheeks.
“Jimin,” Minjeong’s breathy voice seemed to echo in her head. She lightly taps Jimin on her exposed shoulder—the pointed sensation of her nail seemed to engrave into her skin, it feels hotter than the flush of her body, “are you alright?”
“Mm,” she squeaks out. It’s almost embarrassing how quickly she answered. “Perfectly fine,” Jimin finally builds up the courage to turn her head to meet the short-haired woman, slightly smiling, hoping it’d be enough to fool the younger.
“Are you—” Minjeong’s eyes flicker to the side as she quickly clears her throat and returns to her prior upright position, hands politely resting on her lap as she crosses her legs. “Camera,” she whispers, loud enough for Jimin to perceive.
As the lens pans to the members they all instinctively smile with waving hands and gesturing little hearts for their fans. Right—they were in public. There were probably a couple vigilant cameras that had already caught this interaction, Jimin thinks she should’ve been more careful. But how could she have been when it seemed like recently her instincts have been dictating her actions?
When they escape from the broadcasting camera’s judging view, Minjeong turns to her again. Jimin stares blankly, anticipating as she watches Minjeong open her mouth to say something only to be slightly disappointed as it slowly closes shut. The instrumentals from the following stage begins again.
“Later?”
“Later.”
But there never came a later.
—
Jimin has always liked Minjeong.
Well—that's what she would like to think.
As a trainee, Jimin kept to herself. Her entrance to the program caused a sudden buzz as surrounding participants murmured about her ethereal appearance. She wasn’t a stranger to attention, even in her previous school she garnered popularity for being a pretty face. Although she would deny it, everyone liked Jimin. She was friendly with her colleagues, respectful to her seniors, and showcased her dedication to being an idol through hours of practice. Jimin liked to believe that her initial reserved nature was due to the commitment of chasing her dreams.
When she was admitted to the trainee group, Jimin found herself constantly comparing herself to the other trainees. She found that she wasn’t particularly good at anything showcase or performer worthy—that’s when Jimin realized she would have to put in more effort than others to achieve her aspirations. Even when the other trainees left promptly as the hour struck nine after training, Jimin was found under the dim lights of the practice rooms, dancing until the security guard escorted her out.
A year into her training as a trainee, Minjeong joined the potential debuting group. From a rural background, the new trainee had a slight accent in her words. The others gushed about how adorable her pronunciation was with her angelic voice—Jimin would be lying if she said she didn’t find it endearing too.
Minjeong was versatile. Despite what the softness of her physical features allowed others to perceive, it never limited her to the concepts given. She understood the underlying feelings and meaning of music, which quickly became an important topic of focus during training. She learned quickly as well, it took her half the time to learn new choreography and different lyrics—despite it being in another language.
But being under the same spotlight, the scrutiny of the public sparked a competitive tendency from Jimin. She gave up everything to be where she was at—the time of her youth, the degree she was promised—for the slight chance of making the idea of being an idol work. Quite frankly, the chance of not making it terrified her. Limited positions, the idea of failure—she wanted to succeed no matter what. Minjeong’s effortless talent created a twang of anxiety in Jimin’s competitive nature—Jimin approached the new trainee with caution and wariness.
They aren’t given the chance to interact much in the beginning. Due to joining later, Minjeong often trained with another group of trainees while Jimin remained with the more experienced ones. At this point in time, Jimin would only hear about Minjeong and the other trainees through passing gossip which she never paid much attention to. They would often run into each other in the halls, moving between practice rooms, and they would only exchange short greetings. Nothing more and nothing less.
Only when Minjeong was promoted to train with the senior trainees as the result of a monthly evaluation was Jimin allowed to see her more frequently. But even then, neither Jimin or Minjeong went out of their paths to intentionally interact with one another.
The trainees are practicing in the dance room—a classic song from their childhoods for the intention of learning how to dance with stage presence. The hues of the evening bleed through the sheer curtains on the window as the sun begins setting behind the tower near their company building. They have been practicing this particular song for about a week already.
Jimin and Minjeong have their back to the mirror, legs hoisted up to their chests as their gazes following the movements of the other trainees during their short break. Some of the other trainees are huddled in the corner instead, sharing their stories about their weekend on the individual chairs. Jimin prefers this location instead because she likes to listen to the comments their dance instructor makes even when she’s on break—it seems that Minjeong does as well, she realized. The sounds of squeaking sneakers sliding across the floor and their instructors echoing counting makes Jimin’s thoughts go silent.
There’s a space in between them, enough space to fit another individual. It’s really all about courtesy, they haven’t spoken much outside of daily greetings yet despite a month having already passed, not really sure of what to begin with saying. Jimin thinks it seems awkward, not being able to say anything while being aware of Minjeong being constantly in her proximity.
Minjeong nibbles away at a freshly opened pepero pack, one she rummaged out from her small blue backpack when their break was announced. She does this mindlessly while watching the other trainees dance, eyes syncing with the movements.
“Jimin.”
A voice so faint, she almost misses it. She turns her head towards the younger one, “Hm?” Minjeong looks at her for a moment, almost seemed like she was thinking, before descending her hand back into the silvery package, crinkling under her force, to pull out a chocolate stick and holding it upwards at the tip in front of Jimin.
Cute, Jimin thinks as she smiles radiantly while accepting the gift from the other. “Thanks, Minjeong-ah.” Jimin observes a slight shy nod from Minjeong—probably from how friendly her name was being said by the former—as they both continue to nibble on the sweet sticks.
Everything begins after that. Minjeong offers Jimin more snacks—more pepero, honey chips, strawberry cookies—and she accepts them every time with a wide smile plastered on her face. Jimin also makes sure her seemingly endless supplies of snacks stay continuous.
Before she realized it, Jimin had made it a routine to visit the company’s nearby convenience store to grab supplies of Minjeong’s current obsessions before heading to the building for work. She was sure the cashier looked at her funny the day she cleared the shelves of grape jelly sticks.
She started following Minjeong—like a lost puppy as people described it—not for the snacks she often offered even though it might have been the initial impression. It was out of curiosity at first but Jimin learned to cherish their companionship.
Minjeong was originally quiet, she didn’t have much to say but when she did it never failed to make Jimin smile. However, over time when Minjeong began feeling comfortable with Jimin, she would talk endlessly about anything and everything. Jimin liked the way Minjeong grinned when she opened her snacks, the way she furrows her brows and her mouth slightly pouts when something doesn’t go her way, or when the color of red paints her cheeks whenever she would receive a compliment.
“Minjeong? You mean the one Jimin likes?” The other trainees would question.
Yeah, they came in a pair. She liked Minjeong—what about it?
—
“This.”
They’re laying on Jimin’s bed, wrapped in freshly washed sheets tinged with a lavender scent. It was an overdue laundry day, they had finished what seemed like endless piles of clothes in under four hours. A new record if you would ask Jimin, thanks to working together to minimize the time required.
Granted, Jimin took the initial thirty minutes to convince Minjeong to separate her darker colored clothes from her lighter ones. She was appalled when she found out it was not a common action in the younger one—so maybe she was partially to blame when Minjeong complained about it taking too long despite her thinking four hours was short.
Truthfully, Jimin and Minjeong had planned to walk around the park after they finished. Probably watch the ducks and head to their favorite dumpling restaurant in the vicinity after but as soon as this thought was formed it began to cloud outside. Before they knew it, summer showers began and they had no choice but to stay inside.
Aeri and Ning busy themselves in the kitchen, attempting to recreate their recent obsession of malatang. As alway, it’s chaotic—she notices the occasional yelps and clattering of kitchen supplies followed by laughter and teasing. Maybe she should check on them later just to check that they are alive and well but for now she closes the door to her bedroom.
They climb on Jimin’s bed after washing up—a self invitation of Minjeong but Jimin wouldn’t ever mind—and Minjeong’s head naturally found its way to Jimin’s lap, damp hair meeting the cotton fabric of her strawberry printed pajamas. They’re tangled in her blankets, positioned in an awkward angle to make sure they’re both cozy—she swears half of the blanket has already found its way to the ground.
Minjeong has her phone raised above her, the lights and colors of her screen fluctuating as she scrolls through her social media feed. Jimin mindlessly flips through a book with her right hand, her left lazily circling the scalp of Minjeong as her fingers tangle in her short hair. She doesn’t admit that she’s more focused on drawing circles than whatever the words meant on the printed pages.
“Jimin,” she pouts when she has to repeat herself to get the older’s attention.
“Hm?”
“Look,” she turns her screen to reveal a doll, a collectible of some kind. Jimin thinks it’s a kind of dog, covered in clunky gray polyester fur—the type that looks rough and not soft at all—which sends a bout of itchiness across Jimin’s skin. Its jeweled eyes were cracked, dusted in matte material to make it look lifeless. Its smile upturned too far above for it to be welcoming. It was just—so ugly. Jimin couldn’t help but burst out laughing.
“What?” Minjeong snapped, not amused with Jimin’s antics. She could already predict the teasing that would occur after her dramatic reaction. “Why are you laughing?” She whined, pouting again when Jimin couldn't stop the tears from leaving her eyes. “It’s cute!” Minjeong says rather loudly, attempting to drown Jimin’s cackling as her voice echoes through the room. Minjeong says it like she’s trying to convince herself more than anyone.
“Minjeong-ah,” she finally manages to say after collecting herself. “That,” she points at her phone screen, rapidly waving her finger to put an emphasis, “is not cute.” She leans forward and places her pointer finger and thumb on the screen, dragging her fingers to enlarge the photo, focusing on its face. “It looks like a wet dog!”
“First of all, how rude of you to say that!” She gets up from Jimin’s lap and turns her body to face the older. She snatches away the phone from Jimin’s fingers, inspecting the image once more, narrowing her eyes at Jimin as she emphasizes her words. “Secondly, it’s name is Bborang!”
“You named it?” She’s on the verge of laughing again when Minjeong smacks her rather hard on her shoulder, “Ouch!” Jimin rubs her shoulder, pouting and lightly whining to feign being hurt. Of course Minjeong subtly rolls her eyes at her in response. “I mean you named Bborang?”
“No,” she drags the word out and sighs loudly as if disappointed by Jimin’s lack of knowledge. Jimin snickers as she imagines Minjeong mentally shaking her head at her—she’s just too easy to tease. “This one is called Bborang, there's other names for the others, see?” She swipes through her phone screen to reveal different figures of wet dogs in green, blue, and purple. “I just like Bborang more because he’s cuter.” Jimin doesn’t have the heart to tell her they look the same but in different colors.
“Are you going to get it—I mean him?” Jimin watches Minjeong give her a tight smile and she already knows what to ask after, “how much is it—?” She hears Minjeong mutter the numbers—in six digits.
“It’s what?” Jimin says in disbelief that something that ugly could be worth a fortune. “Minjeong—” she scolds, attempting to divert her from the thought she's currently having of purchasing the clearly awful choice of object.
“I know, I know—” she sighs after returning to her position on Jimin’s lap, phone above her head as she longingly gazes at the picture on her screen. “But he’s just so cute—” she lightly frowns, knowing she could never bring herself to commit.
Minjeong proceeds to ramble on about it for another ten minutes, talking about how she had come across it through their manager and how it seems to be a trend nowadays. Jimin listens to her talk about her infatuation, smiling at how adorable she was expressing her interest in a not-so-adorable object. To Jimin, only Minjeong could ever do this.
She notices how Minjeong scrunches her mouth when realizing her dilemma, and the way her eyes sparkle when she occasionally looks to check if Jimin is still listening to her.
Jimin buys it online the next day from a third-party reseller. She’d like to think seeing Minjeong’s smile in reaction to the gift made it worth the ungodly price.
—
They’re being whisked off to another country.
With their schedules being fully packed for overseas promotion, Jimin feels like they barely have room to breathe. She appreciates the hustle, it makes her grateful that they have at least opportunities to do something. But when you’re asking her on three hours of sleep and nothing but a cup of ice americano to fuel her, the gratitude is long buried underneath somewhere no one can reach. Maybe she’ll try the espresso next time.
Unfortunately, Jimin’s exhaustive being and already thin patience is being cruelly chipped away at the airport. Despite the sky being dark, the flashes of the cameras makes it seem like she’s experiencing the day for the second time. She does her best to exchange warm greetings with the reporters and fans, slowly trailing closely behind their manager, head down and eyes occasionally fluttering shut in an attempt to ignore the surrounding chaos.
Behind her, Aeri chatters away with the fansites while Ning slyly drops teasers for their upcoming preparations. Jimin doesn't have the energy to scold Ning when she almost releases the whole chorus of their new song—the following cheeky laugh lets Jimin know she did it intentionally. Even though not quite on purpose, she thanks the two internally for drawing the majority of the crowds towards their enthusiastic behaviors. Jimin is constantly reminded of how stardom was made for them.
When they reach the check-in area, she feels someone paw at the sleeve of her jacket. Jimin doesn’t need to look to welcome the other, intertwining the hands as they proceed further into the airport. Jimin rubs soothing circles on the surface of Minjeong’s hands, pulling her a bit closer to attempt to protect her from the overwhelming environment. She’s forced to give up the warmth when she’s required to show her documents to the security.
Jimin passes the gate quickly—and finally she’s given the space she craved when they first entered the building. There’s still peering eyes on the opposite side of the gate, but at least she’s no longer swarmed and overstimulated—she pushes her baseball cap further down to block the remains of light. Jimin trudges her way to wait for the others near the wall, away from passing traffic.
Minjeong approaches her groggily, gently placing the front of her face on Jimin’s collarbone, bumping the belongings in her hand on Jimin’s stomach. Jimin swings her bag on the opposite shoulder, giving her a more comfortable angle to rest on. She feels Minjeong’s hands hover over her waist, but it doesn’t fully commit to its intent, knowing they’re in public.
It's too late when she catches herself giving Minjeong light fluttering kisses through her thin mask on her forehead—rough material brushing the surface and breath warm against her skin. She blames the impression of anonymity the mask tricked her into believing in—as if they weren’t rising stars of the entertainment industry. Minjeong pinches her sides lightly, as if to punish her for the improper behavior. Jimin smiles under her mask softly, observing the tinge of pink peaking between Minjeong’s mask and sunglasses.
Oh whatever.
Jimin finds herself pulling Minjeong closer by the waist, wrapping Minjeong into her embrace and spooning the younger one lightly. Her left hand finds Minjeong’s head, caressing it gently while cooing and whispering that they were almost there. And although it was meant to be calming, it unintentionally comes out teasingly and Jimin quietly snickers after.
Minjeong weakly punches Jimin’s arms initially, embarrassed by her suddenly bold behavior but resolves by putting her hands inside the pockets of her jacket and sighing into Jimin’s shoulder—too tired to fight any more.
The internet erupts while they cross the starry skies, a head on Jimin’s shoulders in deep slumber.
—
They’re practicing choreography for their upcoming concert. It’s in one of the larger venues in the city this time, they’ve never performed there before. Through months upon months of planning and revisions based on the member’s ideas and concerns, they have finally begun to feel ready to face this challenge.
One of their choreographies calls for the members to dance around a metal jungle gym. Although all the members liked the idea of it, they would also all agree that it was rather difficult. It’s a meticulous prop, it’s no wonder they have more allocated time to learn the details for the moves despite the concert being months in the future.
Aeri and Ning have left, either returning to the dorms or trying the new restaurant across the street they have been talking about—she wasn’t paying attention. They’ll join them later perhaps.
Jimin is staying behind, waiting for Minjeong—as she always does—who wants to practice a part she’s been having trouble with.
To be honest, Jimin thinks that Minjeong doesn’t need this extra time to practice. As always, she was the first to learn this choreography and first to suggest alterations. It was mesmerizing watching her—a natural performer. Jimin admits she had her eyes focused on Minjeong while they were reviewing the recorded video instead of her own part—throwing “Minjeong, pretty” around every few seconds while watching Minjeong burn red only to tease her later. The crew was once again not amused at her tactics, Jimin snickered when she caught them eyerolling at her.
But Minjeong being a perfectionist at heart—she knows from the way she color-codes her clothes and stores her snacks in labeled boxes—always notices flaws a little more. Jimin relented to Minjeong’s request to stay a couple of hours more for practice despite them having an early schedule tomorrow.
“Minjeong-ah,” she pushes herself up from her seat on the floor with her left hand, using the sides of the mirror behind her to support her, dusting her hands together as she makes her way over to the brunette. Minjeong observes the older approach her through the mirror in front, eyes darting up and down, breath heavy from the intensity of their choreography.
Jimin presses her chest to her back, weight leaning into hers and reaching for Minjeong’s hand placed on the far side of the metal bar, wanting to guide her to the proper position. Their hands naturally interlace with each other’s, her left finding a place on her hips. “Here let me show—” she stops abruptly.
Jimin is close—too close. They both realize too late. It’s not her fault it seemed all too natural.
Her eyes flicker slowly, observing the features of Minjeong’s face through the mirror. The red strands of hair sticking to the sweat beads on her forehead. The slight mole on her bottom lip.
Minjeong’s face tilts slightly, their eyes meeting as she shifts the focus from the mirror. Jimin feels her breath on her face as she takes a slight inhale. She smells the yogurt they drank before practice, tangy and sweet. She wonders if she notices it too.
She’s staring again, she knows. But Minjeong is too. They both don’t entertain the thought of pulling away.
“Jimin—” she whispers lightly, it comes out smaller than she thought.
“I—“ she starts.
A loud creak from the door startles them, prompting them to jump away from each other. Jimin puts a fist next to her mouth as she clears her throat, the other hand shying behind her back. Minjeong fixes her bangs hurriedly as she whispers a small sorry, head tilting slightly down. They swear the pinks splattered on their faces gave away too much.
Their manager moves them out, something about reserved space—again, she wasn’t paying attention. Especially not now, when it felt like her heartbeat was vibrating throughout her body.
They traverse the long, dimmed halls of the company building after they collect their thick jackets and scarves—Jimin trails slowly behind Minjeong and into the winter breeze of the evening. They pause at the entrance, lost in thought while Jimin stares at the white cloud that shows when she finally exhales.
“Should we call them—?”
“Yea—let’s do that.”
They joined the other two members at a cozy samgyeopsal place—a few streets down the block as they were informed. They find them at a small table in a corner, snickering to themselves about something on Ning’s phone as the meat sizzled on the surface in front of them.
Jimin and Minjeong sit across from each other, downing shots and avoiding eye contact all night, in fear that it will say too much.
—
Everything seems different now.
On the surface, nothing has seemed to change. Minjeong still decides to sit next to Jimin in the van—shoulder to shoulder even though there’s a space to Minjeong’s right. Jimin still remembers to purchase apple candies specifically for Minjeong every grocery run because she anticipates a phone call from Minjeong telling her to every time she’s out. And Jimin still has a thing for Minjeong’s short hair—she was reminded of this since Minjeong had a haircut recently to maintain the length.
But inside is where Jimin says something has shifted. She feels more hyperaware of herself when Minjeong enters her proximity. She finds herself tripping in her thoughts, spewing incoherent and incomplete sentences. Her face flushes more easily when she locks eyes with Minjeong and she throws her that gummy smile. Jimin feels her heart beat louder when Minjeong calls her name—as if Jimin’s body had been primed to anticipate for just her. Yeah, it has been more than just confusing for Jimin through these following days.
Jimin pretends to be focused in her vicinity but Minjeong’s presence seems to be grander and Jimin hears her a little more. Even now with the sink faucet running rapidly, she senses the younger one approaching.
“Jiminie,” Minjeong approaches her while she faces the sink, washing the dishes. She rests her chin on Jimin's shoulder, tippy-toeing on her indoor slippers to peer over the older’s frame to eye Jimin’s busy hands. “There’s no soap on your sponge,” she points out as she giggles lightly in her right ear.
Jimin feels herself burn, the heat traveling up into her ears. She can’t tell if it’s from the embarrassment of messing up something so mundane or the way Minjeong’s breath tickles her ear, making her realize how close she actually is.
“Oh,” she quickly scrambles to grab the soap bottle from the other side of the sink, squirting the foamy liquid onto the surface—it misses half of the sponge and splotches onto the sink surface. Minjeong snickers at her again.
“Am I making you nervous?” Minjeong teases, her arms circle around Jimin’s waist, resting her palms on Jimin’s thighs before giving them a light tap. Jimin feels the burn of the contact through her jeans, skin flaming under her boldening touch.
Jimin’s not given a chance to answer as Minjeong retreats when she opens her mouth to begin responding. Minjeong throws her arms back, stretching while heading towards the corridor with a slight yawn, touseling her hair slightly. “I’m going to take a nap, let me know if you need any help?” Jimin knows it’s just a gesture of courtesy, she knows Minjeong will knock out when her head touches the pillow.
Jimin waits to hear the door to her room click shut before she closes the faucet and drops the sponge into the sink. She pauses briefly over the sink, forearms draping over the edge of the basin and counter.
She’ll do them later.
—
Minjeong came back this morning and Jimin is not happy.
With their two week break after their grueling schedules, all the members headed home to spend time with their families. While Jimin only needed a car ride to her destination, the other members required more extensive methods of transportation. She made sure to check that they all arrived at their destinations safely.
Jimin’s family offered to make use of her break through a vacation to some country. But with being months away, she decides to spend the weeks in the comfort of her own home—her family was more than happy to oblige. She spent days catching up with her friends and family, running errands with her parents, and late night talks with her sibling. Honestly, this type of serene normality of life was all she could’ve asked for before returning to her hectic schedules.
She’s been texting all the members through the break but Minjeong extensively, checking in if she had eaten any food, sending pictures of their daily activities, and calling whenever it felt right. Although Jimin had been busy with her own activities, it didn’t sit right with her that Minjeong was across the country, away from her arms reach. Of course, she had a wide grin on her face to greet Minjeong through the door of their dorm when she returned.
Jimin is quite ecstatic that Minjeong has returned but something about her being glued to her screen irked her. Something about being in contact with her old long-time friends or whoever—to Jimin it doesn’t matter who. Of course Jimin’s happy that Minjeong is able to reconnect with her friends from her hometown but maybe it’s the way she’s constantly smiling at it, giggling more frequently than she does at Jimin’s lame jokes, a smile constantly plastered on her face when Minjeong receives a notification—yeah, Jimin’s more than not happy.
Jimin’s sitting at Minjeong’s feet, legs up to her chest, arms resting on her knees. Minjeong has her back to the wall, lazed on her own bed, the blanket lazily draped across her thighs, barely covering half of the exposed skin. She’s been typing away at her device for the past four minutes—Jimin’s been keeping track—softly chuckling every few seconds and it kills her a little bit inside every time.
Jimin has been staring at her this whole time, but she’s sure the younger one hasn't even noticed. She’s not really sure why it bothered her as much as it did, Jimin knows that once Minjeong finishes her conversation with her friend they’ll have a moment to themselves. Jimin doesn’t strike herself as an impatient person, but this may be one of the times she will describe herself as impatient.
When Jimin begins to see Minjeong’s lips form a pout, she decides it’s enough.
Jimin surges upwards, propped up by her left hand on the floor as she climbs the bed. The bed dips under her knees as she places them on the sides of Minjeong, enclosing her into her stance. As she leverages her left hand on the bed for support, her right shifts to block the screen between Minjeong’s hand, fingers flaring to cover more surface than her hand can handle. It places weight onto their contact point, shifting the forearms of Minjeong’s down as it follows the object in her hands.
“Minjeong.”
She doesn’t mean to sound as strict as she did—didn't mean to use her leader voice which had a sharp bite and louder tone accompanying it. Minjeong yelps at the sudden movement, her eyes travel upwards to meet Jimin’s, questioning and a little distressed. She awkwardly shifts her feet under Jimin’s figure, pulling them closer towards herself, blanket rustling under the following silence.
Suddenly Jimin’s throat feels dry, mouth agape as if she wanted to explain but she couldn’t because what can she even say? Jimin’s eyes dart between Minjeong’s expectant expression and protective posture, her gaze pauses at the contact between her hands and Minjeong’s on the lit up screen on the device. She retracts her hand quickly, finally feeling the intense feelings burn away and being replaced with guilt.
“Ah—sorry,” Jimin murmurs and mentally curses at herself, she hopes Minjeong knows she didn’t mean for it to be like that. She would never forgive herself if she had ever hurt Minjeong, especially when it seemed so preventable if she watched herself a little more.
“I’m going to check on the others,” she murmurs softly. An excuse, even Minjeong knows, but Jimin thinks she can’t stand herself right now. She separates herself from Minjeong’s bed and exits at the propped opened bedroom door, feeling Minjeong’s eyes bore into her back as she leaves the room.
They don’t talk about it. Jimin doesn’t know if it’s for better or for worse.
—
The group is playing a board game on the carpet in the living room, huddled in a tight knit circle with bent legs, blankets in a tangled mess. The faint rainbow glow of lights on their small festive tree fueled the chattering night as it descended into the dead of night.
It was Ning’s idea of course. She had stopped by the neighboring bookshop, eyes catching the board game printed with funny looking cats in the discounted aisle. Jimin teased her about it, saying she had only bought it because of those cats to which she profusely denied.
They opened the box to find a few of its cards missing, resulting in them doing detective work through the internet and drawing the images of the missing cards on cardboard—to which Ning added some stickers to because she found it looking boring.
They have been at it for a few hours now. Granted they spent the first two attempting to learn the game on the scratched out rules paper—but they ultimately decided to ignore and make their own rules.
Minjeong had hotteok delivered as they were finishing the seventh game, something about having a sudden sweet tooth that required cinnamon and sugar. The piping hot pancakes burnt their tongues as they raced to see who could finish faster—Jimin liked to think she let Minjeong win.
Somewhere along the middle they had lost track of time, sustained by the joyous atmosphere with heartily laughs and shrieks perhaps they meant to lose themselves in time. However, Jimin feels her body slow and eyes fluttering shut for a second longer as time passes—their physical bodies could not keep with the plans laid out for them.
Minjeong releases a rather loud yawn beside her, eyes fluttering to keep awake in the dim lights of the room. In Jimin’s peripheral vision, she sees the clock flashing red—2:32 AM.
“Minjeongie,” Jimin lightly rakes her palm on Minjeong’s exposed thigh, causing a jolt from the latter from the sudden contact of cooler temperature. “Go to sleep, yeah?” Minjeong grumbles, evident that she doesn’t want to leave this precious moment with the members. “We’ll go shortly too,” Jimin affirms her, nodding. She lets out a quiet “okay” before slowly shifting up, pushing the blankets off of her and onto the ground, shuffling towards the intersection of their rooms.
As soon as she turns the corner, Ning also rises from her position, stretching by placing her hands above her head, releasing a cat-like strain. “I’ll go make sure she doesn’t fall asleep in the bathroom,” Ning chuckles lightly, recalling a previous event where it has in fact happened before after a gruesome schedule.
Aeri and Jimin gives her an affirmative nod before she trails Minjeong in relaxed steps, the old floorboards slightly creaking under her feet.
Aeri shuffles to collect the cards of the board game, checking under the couches for stray pieces of material as Jimin collects the paper trash left behind from the food. They use joint effort to fold the many blankets into a neat stack on the surrounding couches.
“Jimin, she’s gone now,” Aeri hums after briefly glancing over at the oldest, masking her amusement behind a grin, “you can stop smiling.”
Jimin brushes her fingers up to her lips and oh—she guesses she was smiling, rather hard.
—
Aeri and Jimin are sitting at a bench near the river, tasting the cream popsicles in their hands, dangling feet swinging in both directions while looking forward at where the sun meets the waters.
They’re in a secluded area away from curious eyes, where they hoped no one would dare approach, confidently thinking the impending night would help them mask recognition. Despite the shadows gradually increasing, Jimin gawks at the beautiful pink hue of the trees under the slight spring breeze, blushing petals slowly falling as the gusts sweep by.
The two oldest snuck out of the dorms when the skies began darkening—an idea of Aeri’s who wanted to head to the local store to surprise Ning and Minjeong with new painting sets they mentioned depleting the other day. Actually, Aeri had been eying this particular set for the younger ones, she saw it once in Ning’s online basket, but she didn’t have an excuse to get it until now.
It was supposed to be a surprise but Jimin swears they were caught once she accidentally dropped the keys to the dorm at their entrance before leaving—they made a run for it, giggling down the corridor, steps echoing, as they quickly shut the door behind them.
Unfortunately, when they approached the art store down a couple of streets the lights were already dimmed, lock attached to the entrance. Aeri didn’t want their efforts to be in vain so Jimin was promptly brought to the convenience store near the scenic river.
The night begins simple—sharing stories of their work, indulging in a little industry gossip, and taking pictures to commemorate. Being of similar age, Jimin naturally gravitated towards conversing with Aeri about mundane instances. Aeri has a way of making her live in the moment, freeing her thoughts that are clouded by future worries.
The humming of cicadas and glow of fireflies emerge as the sun retreats. Jimin can’t remember the last time she and Aeri were able to be like this—like she was twenty again and enjoying the simplicities of her youth.
They suddenly get startled by a rustling in a nearby bush, Aeri automatically squeals and slides over, closer to Jimin. They find themselves on the edge of the bench, farthest from where the sound originated.
A gray stray cat jumps out, fur all tousled and embroidered with small leaves, whiskers stained with blood as it carries a dead rodent, limp between its teeth. It pauses to stare at the two members with its luminous eyes before pouncing away towards the city lights.
Jimin and Aeri exchange reactions of relief, laughing slightly to free themselves from the jitters. Aeri slides back to her original position on the bench, once again fixated on the treat in her hands. Jimin pulls up the hem of her white zip-up jacket that has fallen off her shoulders from the sudden movements when she was startled.
“Don’t you think life is a bit unfair?” Jimin questions as the image of the dead rodent flashes through her thoughts. She considers all the possibilities where the mouse hadn’t encountered the predating cat, thinking that in one universe there may have been an extra life or a life to not lose.
“Life doesn’t play favorites, Jimin-ah,” Aeri responds, licking the remains of her blueberry flavored popsicle. Jimin offers a napkin from the stash she collected at the convenience store as she watches the milky substance drip into Aeri’s palm—she takes it willingly, wiping away the sticky substance.
“It’s unfair if you want it to be,” she finishes the popsicle and releases the stick with a pop, Aeri relents to swinging the wooden stick between her fingers, occupying her hands with the activity “but it can also be lucky if you want.”
“Then—” Jimin begins to trail off, unsure of what it is she is exactly asking, “what makes it lucky for you?” She hopes Aeri can help her find the answers she so desperately craves—a craving she wasn’t even aware of herself.
“Having people to share love with,” Aeri nods at her response, confirming her intended meaning. Life wasn’t simple, they both knew it was much more than that. But at this moment, it seemed like this was what mattered the most. “Like you, Ning, Minjeong—” she drags the last syllables, leaving room for implications.
“How do you know if you love someone?”
“Mm,” Aeri taps the tip of the blue-tainted popsicle stick with her lips—perking upwards as she gazes down. “It depends. But for me—” she lets out a small laugh, acknowledging the complexity of the question, “everything seems beautiful when you’re with them.”
Aeri hums, eyes darting sideways to observe a Jimin lost in thought, she grins knowingly. “You have someone like that,” she says it as a statement, a truth instead of a question.
And for once, Jimin stops asking questions she’s known the answers to.
“Yeah, I do.”
—
Minjeong won’t talk to her.
Jimin has been getting the blunt of one-word exchanges for the past week after her outing with Aeri. They had returned late that night, Jimin and Aeri had opened the door as quietly as possible to not disturb the others. They froze when they caught Minjeong peeking at them behind the wall of their room corridor, eyeing them up and down. Minjeong had abruptly turned away and retreated to her room without any further words. Jimin and Aeri exchanged confused glances before silently laughing at each other.
Minjeong retracts her arm whenever Jimin attempts to interlace their hand, acting like she didn’t see her initiation. She notices the slight drop of her smile whenever Jimin enters the room, shuffling a distance away whenever she attempts to approach the other. Eyes preferring to look at the ground whenever they face each other in stage choreography instead of their usual friendly silent banter.
Jimin’s not stupid, she knows Minjeong is doing this on purpose.
This time, she really can’t pinpoint what she had done wrong. Jimin hopes she hasn’t upset her—but it seems unlikely based on her behavior. She tried confronting Minjeong about it but was waved off, mumbling something about being busy and tired.
Through these past years with Minjeong, Jimin knows how unshakable she can be. In one instance during their trainee days she had to cancel their planned monthly karaoke session to help Ning with her math homework, due the next day as fate had decided. It really was not supposed to take as long as it did—it just had been a moment since she had done advanced calculus.
Minjeong left her text messages on read that night, refused to acknowledge the two on the kitchen table before retreating to her room with a loud thud of the door. Jimin had to supply her with a month’s worth of strawberry biscuits—to which Aeri helped her confirm that she was lacking through the wrappers in the trash cans—for Minjeong to tolerate her again. But Jimin knows she’ll come back to her one way or another—eventually.
She doesn’t want to jinx it yet.
Jimin had just finished a late evening magazine schedule, she’s making her way back to the dorms after being escorted off the van on the main road. She notices something different about this path of the neighborhood, the once previously empty shop stand next to the pharmacy was now replaced with a fried chicken chain—tables lined outside with faint laughter of the customers coming from beyond the windows. Jimin approaches out of curiosity and eyes their advertisement poster of visually appealing fried chicken. Jimin thinks Minjeong would like it.
Huh.
Jimin blinks, she finds that recently it seems to be a common topic of thought—Minjeong she means. She decides to enter the fried chicken shop, hurling a box of their signature on the way out. Thankfully it isn’t bustling with new customers—she promptly makes her way back to the dorms.
When she enters their apartment, all the lights are shut off, the brilliance of a sunset seeping through their translucent curtains. She squints her eyes towards Minjeong’s door, noting the faint glow appearing from the gap beneath the door. Jimin tosses her jacket on the couch and places her keys down before approaching the younger’s room, knocking softly on the wooden board.
“Minjeong-ah,” she makes extra effort to rustle the plastic bag, hoping the proximity will waft the scents through her closed door. “I bought chicken, come out to eat?”
Her efforts are met by silence, she lightly sighs and begins to turn away knowing her efforts were once again in vain. She pauses in her tracks when she hears light shuffling from the room before the door clicks open.
Jimin chuckles as she spots Minjeong peaking through the open crevice, looking down and eyeing the bag dangling from her right hand, before opening the door fully, revealing herself with her disheveled brunette hair—probably from rolling around in bed—and oversized striped t-shirt with white cotton shorts. Minjeong squints her eyes and rubs her eyes lightly to adjust to the lighting contrast of the hallway.
Jimin approaches smiling, fixing the stray hairs on her head and offering her hand to the younger, “Come here baby.” Minjeong takes her hand and allows herself to get dragged to the living room.
They finish the chicken after an episode of a drama. Minjeong didn’t exchange many words with Jimin but even despite the overuse of silence it had not felt uncomfortable at all. Peacefully existing besides each other was all both of them asked for really.
Jimin is washing the plates and utensils they used in the kitchen, she carefully wipes down the last remaining plate before moving back to the room Minjeong was found.
She returns to see Minjeong’s gaze fixated on the television screen. But from the way her eyes darted and how her fingers clenched around nothing, Jimin knew she wasn’t paying attention at all. She finds a space next to the brunette, close enough for their thighs to touch and fingertips to brush together despite there being seats enough to fit another four people.
Jimin’s hands slides around Minjeong’s waist, fingers glazing slightly under her shirt and tightening her arms around it, almost like she was scared she was going to run. She gently laid her head on her chest, feeling Minjeong squirm from the edges of her hairs tickling her exposed skin.
“I missed you.”
“I—” she feels Minjeong take a sharp inhale, “I missed you too Jimin-ah,” she releases as if it had been weighing her down.
Jimin thinks this is where she’s supposed to belong.
—
Jimin thinks she messed up.
No, not in the way that would make Minjeong avoid her for weeks—Jimin would like to think she has learned her lesson.
She swears she was just teasing, but you can blame her addiction to Minjeong’s reactions for taking this too far. Out of all the members, Minjeong has always been the most responsive to her childish antics. Call her manipulative but she lives on the thrill of responses, relishing on the push-and-pull dynamic of relationships.
And for Jimin, Minjeong was just that.
Jimin was braiding Minjeong’s short hair on the hardwood floor of Minjeong’s room. They opted to be seated with this option instead of their usual preference on the bed because the summer heat was gruesome and the cool of the floor felt soothing against their heated skin. They turned on a small fan, blowing in the corner of the room and turned onto automatic oscillation—for maximum efficiency as Minjeong stated.
It didn’t do as much as Jimin would’ve liked—observing the collected sweat beads on Minjeong’s forehead—but it’s something nevertheless. She’s thinking of going out to buy ice cream later, but she'll have to see what Minjeong thinks.
Minjeong’s chin rests on the slight gap between Jimin’s thighs, body splayed to the left of hers, arms stretched in front of her, thumping a rhythm on the wooden floor as she talks about aliens—her recent hyperfixation.
Jimin’s legs are folded under her, hands busy as she autopilots braiding her short hair—which have grown rather long compared to what it initially was if you would ask Jimin—into loose but intact arrays of patterns. She hums in response every few seconds to what Minjeong says, letting her know she was paying attention to her chatter—even though she found the content of her words rather confusing.
Jimin snickers when she runs out of hair to braid on Minjeong’s head. Brunette locks all neatly placed into noticeable braids under the beaming sunlight of the window, she grins at her masterpiece.
She tilts to the side, stretching to reach for her phone that had slid far from hand’s grasp—due to the initial shuffling of the two individuals—but careful not to disturb the being on her lap. Jimin unlocks it and immediately opens the camera function, “Minjeongie, look at me baby.”
“Huhng?” Minjeong makes a noise that comes out strangely as she’s strangled by the weight of her position. She slides her extended hands to the sides of her body, pushing up for support and she tilts her head up to look at the older. Jimin snaps a picture.
“Hey!” Minjeong’s brows furrow, processing the sudden betrayal she just experienced. She swipes at the hand holding the phone in vain thanks to Jimin’s quick reaction time. “Jimin,” she whines, seated now and she continues to extend her hands to grasp the device, “delete it!”
“No, look you’re so cute in it,” she swipes through her camera roll and clicks the image, displaying Minjeong looking up at the camera—with Jimin’s personal artwork of braids and all—looking innocently at the camera in anticipation. “See? Aren't you pretty?” Jimin nods in response to her own statement while Minjeong squints at the image, grunting a disapproval despite her cheeks flaming from the sudden compliment.
“Delete it.” Minjeong whines again, drawing out her syllables and lips curling into her signature pout as her legs lightly thump on the floor in protest. Her hands fly to Jimin’s exposed thigh, aggressively nudging it in protest while Jimin mocks her pouting expression, mimicking her whining sounds. Jimin grins mischievously before snickering in response—it really was too easy to get a reaction out of her.
“No,” Jimin takes extra care to enunciate her syllables.
They begin play-fighting after—Jimin initiates with an attack of tickling in response to Minjeong’s bratty attitude, some tumbling occurs with the shriek of laughter engulfing the room, and Minjeong attempts to pin Jimin down unsuccessfully—and somewhere along those lines it led them to where they were now.
Minjeong is on her lap, legs loosely draped around and behind Jimin’s waist. Jimin holds her hands on her waist, hoping to steady her in the instance of a tilt occurring. For some reason, the weight of Minjeong on her lap and the mixture of heat from their skin touching seems to cloud Jimin’s thoughts—more than usual.
They’re both flushed from the increase in movement, the room seemed to be warmer than before, sweat gathering on the napes of their necks as they attempted to catch their breaths, huffing and panting. Jimin thinks this should be the last thing they should be doing during this heat wave but she’ll indulge in it because it's Minjeong. She’ll always indulge when it comes to Minjeong.
“If I knew you were going to be this annoying,” Minjeong finally managed to say, breathier than normal and still teasing in attempt to gain the upper hand, “I wouldn’t have done it for you—”
Minjeong stops abruptly, processing her sudden voiced intrusive thought—a confession. Too carried away, too comfortable but never a mistake. Not when it comes to them.
What?
Jimin swipes her hand across Minjeong’s bob, fixing the strands blocking her view and undoing all the loose braids. “Pretty,” she says endearingly, causing a rouse of blush to appear on Minjeong, tainting her face in a faint dusted pink. She lightly fans the younger’s face with her hand in an attempt to cool her down. Jimin notices her eyes slightly darting up and down.
“So you did it for me?” she asks faintly as if to test the waters—the whirring of the fan almost overwhelms the words—just almost. It’s less of a tease now and more of genuine curiosity, the question leaves Jimin feeling like she’s sitting on the edge awaiting her answer.
Minjeong sharply inhales, nervously rubbing her hair between her finger and thumb, eyes darting away. “You always stared at others with this and I—” and finally her eyes gather the courage to meet Jimin’s. She takes a deep breath, “I wanted you to look at me like that.”
“Minjeong, I’ve always been looking just at you.”
She stares at Jimin blankly, questioning if she had heard incorrectly. Her lashes flutter as she slowly registers the meaning—the words she had longed to hear. A smile threatens to tug at Minjeong’s lips and Jimin decides she’s had enough of waiting.
“Can I kiss you?”
“Please,” she breathes out.
And finally their lips lock together. It’s slow at first—maybe it’s because it feels surreal or they weren’t really sure what was happening. Jimin takes her time in this intimate contact, movements purposeful as she makes it a goal to recognize all of Minjeong. She can’t help but smile into the kiss when she realizes—realizes what she’s been missing, what she’s been craving all this time.
She pulls her closer, bodies flushed together in the sweltering summer heat as Minjeong gasps in surprise. It’s feverish now—tongue slotting itself between the parted lips, finding a rhythm that they’ve seemed to understand in their hearts—and Jimin can’t get enough of it.
This, this is where they’re meant to be.
She only learns to push away when Minjeong’s grip on her shirt becomes too tight, gasping for air when they both break. Only then does Jimin feel Minjeong’s arms around her shoulder, curled behind her neck and stroking her back comfortingly. Truth be told, neither of them wanted to separate. Even in instances like this, Jimin is stunned about how close they feel.
Jimin revels at the sight before her—a breathless and flushed Minjeong—it’s so so beautiful. She doesn’t think she could ever get tired of Minjeong looking like this—it’s all just an excuse to kiss her again really. Jimin peppers multiple kisses on the younger’s face, tasting the slightly saltiness on her lips and having Minjeong giggle in response.
“Jimin,” she whined, “if you do that I'll never want long hair again.”
She heartily laughs, “Sounds perfect to me.”
Minjeong’s lips curl upwards as her hands find their way to the sides of Jimin’s face, delivering light pats in response to the comment. “Don’t you think you’re being too greedy?” She jokes as she lets out little giggle that make Jimin’s heart burst, “I’m sure my fans wouldn’t want to see me in just this style.”
“But you’re mine, not theirs.”
Oh.
She doesn’t know what confidence possessed her at that moment. The words slip out with a tinge of possessiveness, but sure and steady of her statement. She’s riding the adrenaline of this particular interaction, she’s completely addicted, smitten, Jimin can’t even fathom the thought of sharing what should be hers. Forgive her for finishing the race before it even begins, even if she did have a head start.
“I mean—that is if you would like to be mine—please?” Jimin didn’t intend to sound as desperate as she did, almost begging with the tone she’s using. Gosh, Minjeong thought, of course Jimin would still find a way to be herself even in this moment. But when Jimin is especially like this, Minjeong can’t find herself to refuse.
“Stupid—” Minjeong pouts jokingly as she slightly pushes Jimin on her shoulders, her face becoming more flushed with every passing second. She brings the back of her hand to her face to hide the blooming grin. “You ask me that after all of that?”
Jimin nudges Minjeong’s raised hand to her lap, rubbing circles on her skin and darting forward to give her a peck on her lips. “Yeah,” she flashes the grinning smiles that she knows gives away her composed demure—the one that makes Minjeong’s heart melt. “What's your answer?”
Yeah, Kim Minjeong could never win against Yu Jimin. But Yu Jimin would always find a way to let Kim Minjeong win.