Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Chaewon glared at the aggressively bright yellow sign next to her tattoo studio. Fleur in the Jardin, it screamed. What kind of dumbass name was that? At least her tattoo studio had a name that actually made sense. Ink-purities. Come here, get inked. Simple.

On second thought, judging by the sea of pots crowding the shop’s entrance, this was clearly a flower shop—probably one of those cutesy places where the owner babbled to daisies like they were babies. And Chaewon hated babies like she hated beans.

If Sakura were here, she would already be laughing, telling Chaewon how much of a cliché her life was. Tattoo studio, flower shop next door…it was practically a setup for a romcom. She would have a field day, shipping Chaewon and the florist when they hadn't even met. The typical signs of someone who spent too much time playing dating sims and reading fanfiction. Literally, go touch some grass.

Chaewon wasn't a fan of flowers. They wilted, they died, they were temporary. Why waste money on something that died? Tattoos, on the other hand, were permanent.

Satisfied with her superior life choices, Chaewon entered her studio. The faint floral scent that had followed her from outside faded as soon as the door clicked shut, replaced by the sharp tang of ink and rubbing alcohol. Much better.

She sank into her chair and pulled up her inbox, grimacing at the mountain of unread emails. This was her least favorite part of the job—pretending to be polite when all she wanted to do was tell them how stupid their ideas were. 

She opened the first email.

“Can you tattoo my entire body so I’d have a permanent tan?”

Chaewon sighed, muttering under her breath, “Go outside and touch some grass. Bring Sakura too.”

Next: “I want a jellyfish that breathes fire.”

Chaewon stared at the screen. A fire-breathing jellyfish? Cool, cool, cool. 

A few more clicks later, she slumped back in her chair, rubbing her temples. The low hum of the air conditioner blended with the music from her speakers, steady and comforting. She leaned back until her chair creaked, eyes tracing the patterns on the ceiling.

JenJen’s voice filled the room, soft and easy. Chaewon had been starving for new music ever since her favorite singer went on hiatus.

As her thoughts began to drift, a flicker of movement in the corner of her eye caught her attention.

Of course, she couldn't even daydream in peace.

A freakishly tall woman was peeking at her through the window, cradling a flower pot like a baby. Chaewon didn't have to guess where she came from. The woman’s green apron embroidered with little flowers was a dead giveaway. It might as well have been a neon sign that said FLOWER GIRL.

Their eyes met, and the woman’s face lit up in a bright, overenthusiastic smile. Golden retriever energy, Chaewon decided. The woman’s hair bounced as she waved, like she might start wagging her tail any second.

Chaewon stifled a groan. No one should be that cheerful in the morning. She ignored the woman and returned to her work, the mechanical clacking of her keyboard filling the studio. 

By the time Chaewon managed to catch a breather, it was almost two in the afternoon, way past her regular lunch hours. Her stomach growled in protest. 

Still slouched in her chair, she stretched and cracked her joints. Sakura would have scolded her for her bad posture and forced her to take proper breaks. She nagged too much sometimes, but Chaewon understood that she was coming from a place of concern. Not that she would ever admit it to anyone.

As she debated whether to microwave some crappy frozen meals or splurge on takeout, the bell above the shop entrance jingled. She had forgotten to put up the “closed” sign, and now she had to deal with a walk-in client.

Amazing.

To her surprise, it was the woman from earlier. Chaewon desperately hoped that she wasn't here for a tattoo consultation. The same smile was plastered on her face, effortlessly charming, while Chaewon was dressed like a slob. She caught a whiff of the flowery scent clinging to the woman; obvious perks of working with flowers. 

The mere existence of the woman dialed Chaewon’s grumpiness up to eleven. “What do you want?” She snapped. 

Wednesdays were supposed to be uneventful. Ink, music, solitude. Not…this.

Her bluntness startled the woman. Eyes wide, like they might pop right out of her head—just like Sakura’s.

“Oh! I…uh…” The woman hesitated, her grin faltering as nervousness crept in. “You looked busy earlier, and I made too many sandwiches...do you want one?”

Chaewon raised an eyebrow. Free food? Suspicious.

Every instinct screamed at her to refuse it, that taking food from a stranger was a bad idea, but a bite of free, readily available food seemed worth the risk. Warily, she accepted the offering and gave it a cautious sniff.

“What’s in it?”

“It’s a BLT. You’re not allergic, are you?”

Even if she was, she’d probably still eat it. Logic was no match against hunger.

Unwrapping the sandwich, she took a quick bite. The bacon crunched under her teeth, the familiar grease hitting her taste buds. Junk food always tasted the best.

Before she knew it, the sandwich was gone. Somewhere, Sakura was probably yelling, “Chaewon! Chew!”

Haha, no.

Throwing away the wrapper, Chaewon noticed the woman still there, like a puppy waiting eagerly for her owner to take her on a walk.

“…What?” Chaewon asked, wiping her mouth self-consciously, just in case she had left any evidence of her meal.

“Oh! I’m Yunjin,” the woman said. “I own the shop next door,” she added, as if Chaewon hadn't already figured that out. 

“Chaewon…and thanks for the sandwich, I guess.”

Yunjin tilted her head. “Chaewon? That’s a pretty name!” 

Chaewon’s cheeks heated. How could a name be pretty? She opened her mouth to be sarcastic, but all that came out was an irritated huff. “Shut up.”

Yunjin chuckled at the reaction, not at all offended. “I’ll see you later!” she called, skipping back to her shop, her voice echoing through the studio.

Moments later, the quiet returned.

Chaewon shook her head. “What a weirdo,” she muttered under her breath, a small, unwilling smile tugging at her lips. She quickly snapped herself out of it. “Ugh!”

Chapter Text

The next Monday, Chaewon arrived at the tattoo studio to find a lone sunflower waiting on the doorstep. Its yellow petals were offensively bright. Just like Yunjin.

She picked it up and noticed a green note taped to the stem, almost blending in. In bouncy handwriting, it read: Don’t worry, be sunny!

“Idiot,” she grumbled, huffing in annoyance.

Chaewon, a sworn flower hater, wasn't sure what she was supposed to do with the thing. She had half a mind to march over to Yunjin’s shop and demand that she take it back, but it felt a little extreme even for her. She was a person with common sense. She could figure this out. If the sunflower died under her care, well…that was Yunjin’s fault for leaving it with her in the first place.

Entering the studio, she searched through the cabinets in the pantry. Surely there had to be some random container lying around. Eventually, she dug up an old mason jar, filled it with water, and tossed the flower in.

She set it on the counter, where sunlight hit it just right. Not that she cared.

The note was a bit more complicated. Chaewon frowned at it, then stuck it onto the whiteboard with a magnet. A convenient spot, where she could glance up to check her calendar and remind herself what an idiot Yunjin was. If she ever felt like she was getting soft, one look at that stupid handwriting would snap her out of it.

When she finally stepped back, Chaewon gave the studio a once-over, satisfied with the new arrangement. Somehow, everything felt harmonious. No thanks to the flower.

“What’s with the creepy smile?”

The voice came from right behind her. Chaewon nearly jumped out of her skin, spinning around to find Sakura doubled over with laughter, clearly proud of her perfect ninja ambush.

“Sakura! Were you trying to give me a heart attack?”

“Nope. Just thought I’d drop by to check in on you.” Sakura’s eyes flicked to the sunflower, then back at Chaewon with a smirk. “How are you?”

Now that Chaewon thought about it, it had been a while since they had talked.

“Fine.”

“Cool,” Sakura said, unfazed by the curt response. She tilted her head. “So…finally dating? Secret admirer?”

“Ugh. More like an enemy.”

“Right,” Sakura deadpanned. “Because nothing says ‘I hate you’ like a fresh flower.”

Chaewon crossed her arms. “Just you watch.”

“I’ll be seated. Front row.” Sakura gave her a big thumbs-up.

Perhaps Chaewon jinxed herself by telling Sakura to “just watch,” because the following Monday, another flower waited on her doorstep.

Have a great daisy!

Even with zero knowledge of flowers, Chaewon figured this one out. The note couldn't be more obvious.

She scowled at the colorful petals, wondering if Yunjin had a whole stockpile lined up just to torment her.

Then again, she definitely did—she owned a whole flower shop. Like, duh.

The puns were the worst offenders; Chaewon could practically see her wasting all her free time coming up with them. Being a florist wasn't even a real job, anyway.

Still, begrudgingly, she rummaged around for another vase, plopped the daisy in, and placed it next to the sunflower. Adoptive siblings should stick together, after all.

If Chaewon thought this would all stop at flowers, she was wrong. 

On Wednesday, Yunjin appeared in Chaewon’s shop out of nowhere, carrying a small paper bag and bouncing slightly with every step.

Whether Yunjin was a human or a golden retriever was still up for debate.

“Thought you could use some lunch,” Yunjin announced, her voice ringing through the studio.

“I don’t accept handouts,” Chaewon said, trying to sound stern. Not that her memory of the last sandwich helped.

“It’s not a handout. It’s food,” Yunjin said, holding the bag towards her, not taking a no for an answer. Her smile was wide, unapologetically cheerful.

Chaewon grumbled, but her stomach grumbled louder. She reached for the bag, attempting to look indifferent. 

She peeked inside, and her nose twitched involuntarily at the scent of fresh bread and savory meat. She quickly looked away, hoping Yunjin wouldn't notice her salivating.

Yunjin smiled, clearly amused. “Alright, I’ll leave you be. You probably don’t like being stared at while you eat.”

Chaewon hated her more now that she was being considerate.

Once alone, she unwrapped the sub. The first bite hit her before she could stop it. Meatballs, sauce, melted cheese…it was everything she had been craving. She hated how good it was.

Sakura stopped by later, leaning against the doorway with her usual mischievous grin.

“I see you’ve finally discovered colors,” she said, glancing at the sunflower and daisy.

“Are you just here to make fun of me?” Chaewon asked, arms crossed, scowling.

“That, and also to bring you food,” Sakura said, holding up a small paper bag like a peace offering. “But judging by the sauce on your lip, you’ve already had lunch.”

Chaewon hurriedly wiped the corners of her mouth, the napkin picking up a smear of red sauce. “Damn you, Yunjin.”

“Oh…your enemy brought you lunch? Interesting.”

“She probably cursed my food with witchcraft. No sandwich should taste this good. You better stay nearby in case I…explode or something.”

“Like, in the bathroom?”

“Sakura!”

Spoiler alert: Chaewon didn't explode—or get diarrhea, for that matter.

Somehow, things had escalated once again. Chaewon wasn’t sure how that was even possible, but of course, Yunjin had a way.

First, the flower on Monday: a red bloom with a kissing emoji on the note. Chaewon had to do a reverse image search to confirm it was a tulip, so…two lips. Yunjin really should write a book on terrible puns. She could become a billionaire with all the free time and bad taste floating around the world.

Lunch came next, just two days later.

“Lunch, and some snacks, just in case you get hungry later,” Yunjin said, holding out a lunch bag with her usual grin.

Chaewon grumbled but took it anyway. “I guess florists have a lot of free time on their hands.”

This lunch was far more elaborate than the previous sandwiches. Inside the bag was a box of kimchi fried rice, a handful of assorted snacks, and some neatly arranged fruits.

“What is this?” Chaewon asked, holding up a small box. Inside were a few apple slices shaped like half-moons.

“Apple bunnies!” Yunjin declared proudly.

Chaewon wasn't convinced; if they were bunnies, their ears had clearly been chopped off. She huffed, shaking her head, but this time with little less irritation than usual.

“Thanks,” she said, just loud enough for Yunjin to hear.

Yunjin beamed and skipped back to her shop before Chaewon could say anything else.

Alone in the studio, Chaewon set the food on the table and took it all in. Her eyes widened as the realization sank in. This was…a lot. She quickly snapped a picture to send to Sakura. Way too much food.

A reply pinged almost immediately: Don’t be an ungrateful brat.

“I said thanks,” she muttered, before digging into the, once again, delicious meal.

As she ate, her eyes drifted back to the apple slices. Maybe…just maybe…they really did look like little bunnies. A little warmth stirred in her, but it had nothing to do with Yunjin, obviously. Food just made people happy.

And lastly, the grand finale to end the week.

Chaewon was about to leave her studio on Friday when a knock came from the window. Of course it was Yunjin, her only neighbor with zero concept of personal space. This almost proved she was a golden retriever; after all, they were clingy and had zero understanding of personal space.

Sighing, Chaewon lowered the window. Yunjin’s face appeared, radiant. “Chaewon!” she called, as if her world consisted only of exclamation marks.

“Geez. I’m right here. You don’t need to yell,” Chaewon muttered, hiding the small twitch of amusement threatening to break through.

“Sorry, sorry! Here!” Yunjin thrust a piece of paper toward her. “I drew you a portrait!”

Chaewon took the paper cautiously. The drawing was…a mushroom with a face. Lounging on a chair at the beach, no less.

“You do know the definition of a portrait, right?” she asked flatly.

“I’m creative!”

“You’re such an idiot,” Chaewon muttered, trying to sound mad, though the fondness in her voice gave her away.

Yunjin threw her head back and laughed. Loud, unrestrained, and infectious.

Chaewon felt her chest lighten despite herself. She found herself smiling before she could remember to be annoyed at Yunjin.

Holding the mushroom portrait at arm’s length, she squinted. “Hmm. E for effort,” she said. “But points for creativity.”

“Ouch! You wound me,” Yunjin said, clutching her heart dramatically, pretending to be hurt.

Chaewon couldn’t help a small laugh. “Idiot,” she muttered, shaking her head.

A few moments passed in comfortable silence. Yunjin lingered just outside the window, waving before finally heading back to her shop, her bright energy remaining even after she was gone.

Chaewon pinned the portrait to the whiteboard, next to Yunjin’s other notes. Alone in the studio, she took a moment to admire the drawing. A small, reluctant smile tugged at her lips before she shook her head. She would never admit it, but the drawing was…kind of cute.

After all, it was supposed to be her.

It was Monday again. Chaewon had come to expect the familiar flower on the doorstep, but today, there was nothing. She glanced at the flower shop and spotted a small piece of paper taped to the glass door.

Closed in the morning! Will be back at 12!

It was official: Yunjin’s only punctuation mark was the exclamation point. Surprise! And apparently, it was contagious.

On a more serious note, the messy scrawl hadn't been there yesterday, so Yunjin must have done it in a rush.

Despite all her carefree energy, Yunjin liked things on a schedule, like a puppy that expected her walk at the same time every day. The Monday flowers, the Wednesday lunches…they had established their own ridiculous rhythm. And with today’s flower missing, Chaewon couldn't help but worry.

The quiet in the studio felt heavier than usual. Chaewon dug her phone out of her pocket and called Sakura, desperate for a distraction.

“What flower did you get today?” Sakura asked as soon as she answered the phone.

Chaewon rolled her eyes at the immediate interrogation. “None.”

“You know, maybe it’s time to return the favor,” Sakura suggested, her voice teasing.

“Why?”

“Because it’s polite to do so, and also…because you like her.”

Chaewon’s cheeks heated, her fingers clenched around the phone. “I don’t like her!”

“Sure, Chae.”

Chaewon gritted her teeth, “If I do it, will you finally shut up about this…nonsense?”

“Nope,” came the unapologetic reply, probably accompanied by a shrug.

Chaewon ended the call without another word. Whatever Sakura was implying, she wasn’t having it. Not today.

She tried to focus on her emails, but the screen blurred until all she could see was Yunjin’s stupidly sunny grin.

Her keyboard bore the brunt of her frustration, with the backspace key taking most of the abuse. Words and phrases appeared and vanished, none suitable for a professional email. Minutes crawled by, dragging her back to memories of school.

Fifteen minutes before noon, she admitted defeat. No work was getting done.

Without waiting any longer, Chaewon dragged her feet to the nearest gas station and grabbed the cheapest coffee she could find. The cup was warm in her hands. By the time it reached Yunjin, it would be lukewarm, bitter, and bland, the perfect little revenge for making her worry.

As promised, Yunjin returned to the shop at noon, right on the dot. Chaewon knew because she had planted herself by the window, eyes scanning the street like a hawk. She was almost annoyed to see Yunjin arrive in one piece. All that worrying, wasted. 

Chaewon watched Yunjin fuss over the display—poking at flowers, patting soil, whatever florists did to look busy.

When she finally straightened and disappeared inside, Chaewon lingered by the window a little longer, pretending to tidy her desk before following.

It was her first time in the flower shop. Honestly, Chaewon wasn't sure what she expected. 

Everything was neat and labeled, rows of plants arranged with almost clinical precision. Nothing like the chaotic image she’d had of Yunjin.

“Be there in just—Chaewon?” Yunjin began, greeting the customer at the door, but froze mid-sentence when she saw who it was. “Hi!” she waved energetically, like a puppy wagging its tail.

“About time you showed up!” Chaewon barked, though her tone was weaker than she intended.

“Missed me?”

“What? No!” Chaewon marched over to her and dropped the cup of coffee heavily on the counter. “Here!”

Yunjin picked up the cup, curiosity in her eyes. “Is this for me?”

“Well, yeah,” Chaewon admitted, heat creeping up her neck unexpectedly.

Yunjin studied the cup, then swirled it with exaggerated care. “Ah, the nectar of gas stations. Truly, romance is alive,” she said with a teasing grin.

Chaewon’s cheeks deepened in color. “Drink it before I throw it away,” she said.

“I’m joking,” she added quickly, then looked at Chaewon. “Thank you, really.”

Chaewon watched Yunjin cradle the cup with both hands, sipping it like it was a treasure, her eyes sparkling with delight.

A faint blush spread across her cheeks, and she quickly forced her thoughts elsewhere before getting lost in how stunning Yunjin looked in that moment. “Where were you this morning anyway?” she asked.

Yunjin shrugged. “Oh, I had to help Eunchae.”

Chaewon blinked. Eun…chae? Out of nowhere, her stomach tightened. Who was Yunjin talking about? A coworker? A friend? Someone…closer?

She frowned before she could stop herself. “Who’s…Eunchae?”

“My baby sister,” Yunjin said, completely oblivious to Chaewon’s brief panic.

“Right. Sister,” she muttered, more to herself than Yunjin, shaking her head at her own overreaction.

Yunjin tilted her head, curious, but Chaewon was already backing away. “Well, I gotta go. Work and stuff.”

Before she could leave, Yunjin called out, “Wait! I almost forgot.” She disappeared behind the cashier for a moment and reemerged with a small, vibrant flower. “Peony!”

When Yunjin handed it to her, their fingers brushed. A small tingle ran through Chaewon as their fingers brushed, making her catch her breath.

The note attached read: Sorry, I don’t have any peony-menal puns today :(

“You’re such an idiot,” Chaewon muttered, though there was no bite in her tone.

Chaewon could barely remember the walk back to her studio, her mind still caught on that fleeting touch. The flower and its silly note joined the others in their spots, slowly forming a small, colorful collection.

Little by little, her world brightened, one colorful flower at a time.

And she didn’t hate it.

Chapter Text

This Monday, as Chaewon arrived at her studio, a white flower sat waiting on the doorstep. No surprises there.

She stared at it. Simple, pure, basic—the kind of flower that would show up in a dictionary, right next to “flower.”

In fact, it was so generic that she almost rolled her eyes. It looked like something mass-produced for a greeting card.

The note, written in Yunjin’s familiar handwriting, read: Do you want to know a secret?

Oh, fun. Yunjin being mysterious? Not her style. She was too loud for that.

Normally, Chaewon would have dismissed it as a bad pun—maybe a knock-knock joke or some obscure musical reference.

Yunjin had a knack for freezing even the warmest hearts with her so-called jokes. It was a skill that could make her millions on Shark Tank.

But this time, the note lacked her usual playful tone. There was something different about it. Something personal.

However, before she could dwell on it further, her first customer of the day arrived. The snap of their fingers and the impatient tap of a foot told Chaewon everything she needed to know: today was going to be a long one.

Hopefully, she would make it through without getting arrested. She wasn’t making any promises though.

Chaewon’s tattoo sessions today reminded her why she hated people. The absolute worst kinds of customers.

There was the “akshually” nerd with delusions of getting a full sleeve in one sitting, the broke college kid who thought haggling was part of the experience, and the girl who came back crying because, surprise, she couldn’t follow basic aftercare instructions.

And no, she wasn’t cherry-picking. That was the full lineup.

Then, the grand finale—Kazuha. The girl had literally dropped dead when some loud bang went off nearby. Apparently, it was an Osaka thing. “Instinct,” she’d said, as if that explained it.

At this point, Chaewon was ready to scream. She couldn’t stomach another minute of human interaction without snapping. Stepping outside after her last appointment, she slammed the “closed” sign down with enough force to make the glass rattle. Not that anyone was likely to show up anyway.

Leaning against the door, Chaewon took a deep breath of the late afternoon air, letting it fill her lungs, hoping it would wash the frustration from her system. The sweet, floral scent from next door seeped into her senses, cutting through the cool breeze.

Naturally, her thoughts drifted to Yunjin.

Surely, Yunjin had bad days too. How did she handle them? Did she smile through it all, like she always did with Chaewon, even when Chaewon was being grumpy and difficult? Or was there another side of her, one she kept hidden until she trusted someone enough to let it show?

Chaewon frowned. Why am I thinking about her so much? Yunjin, of all people. Ridiculous.

Suddenly, a faint sound of music reached Chaewon’s ears. Soft, mellow guitar notes that seemed to ease her tension without her realizing it. The melody was soothing, like it was made to calm the noise of the day.

Without thinking, Chaewon found herself moving closer to the source, her feet carrying her toward the open door of the flower shop. She paused outside, hesitating for a moment, listening.

Her curiosity quickly got the better of her, and she peeked through the small gap in the door.

The shop was emptying out now, the day’s stock mostly gone. Among the empty aisles, Yunjin sat barefoot on a stool, strumming her guitar with the kind of ease that suggested she had done this a thousand times. Her eyes were closed, lost in the music. She looked like a fairy, effortless and serene.

Yunjin hummed along with the guitar, her voice blending smoothly with the melody. Chaewon hadn’t known she could sing so well. The sound was raw and gentle, like she was making up a lullaby on the spot.

Was she singing to the flowers? The thought brought a smile to Chaewon’s face.

Chaewon wished she could hold onto this moment, replay it whenever the day felt too heavy. She could record it…but that would be creepy, right?

Yeah, scratch that. Definitely creepy. Listening to someone’s voice that you recorded in secret…even if it was an amazing voice.

Chaewon blinked, feeling a bit silly. The sky was darkening, the music slowing. It was probably time to leave, before she gave in to her intrusive thoughts.

Reluctantly, she pulled herself away from the door. The sound of Yunjin’s guitar still echoed in her mind as she made her way back to her shop, the weight of the day lightening with each step.

Later that night, as Chaewon lay in bed, the image of Yunjin with her guitar lingered.

Yunjin’s voice reminded her of JenJen—the mysterious musician whose heartfelt songs had captured her heart. Gentle and intimate, making you feel like you were the only one who mattered in that moment.

Chaewon realized there was more to Yunjin than she’d assumed—the loud, cheerful girl contrasting with the quiet one strumming her guitar alone.

Which side of Yunjin was the real one?

Hopefully, it was both. And that Yunjin would let her figure it out.

Chapter Text

Chaewon stood frozen, staring at the red rose resting on her doorstep. She wasn’t a flower expert, but even she could recognize its significance. And Yunjin, of all people, knew that too.

There was no mistaking it. Chaewon had tattooed enough roses to be familiar with their symbolism. Romantic love. The kind of thing that only happened in fiction. In real life…well, how would she know?

Her gaze shifted to the note, hoping for an explanation, but it simply read: Roses are red…

“What is this supposed to mean?” she muttered, glaring at the note as if willing it to combust.

Of course, it didn’t. It was just paper, and sadly, she wasn’t blessed with laser vision.

Her attention returned to the flower, its petals fluttering in the wind, as if it were speaking to Chaewon.

She considered what it might mean. Yunjin’s quiet, thoughtful side—her music, her kind gestures—maybe this was the same. A flower, instead of a song, speaking for her.

Could it be the classic symbol of love…or just another one of her so-called jokes?

Ugh. Why am I even thinking about this? So annoying.

She clenched her fists. “You’re going to pay for making me think!” she growled, like an angry cheetah ready to pounce.

She decided to stop overthinking and do what she did best: act.

It was time to face the music…ian.

Chaewon was known for being spontaneous. In their friendship, Sakura was practically the living embodiment of the “Think Chaewon, Think” meme. But what was there to think about when the Han River was calling her name? She just wanted to enjoy some late-night snacks in the breeze. Sakura, on the other hand, was far too much of a homebody. Seriously, live a little.

Which, of course, brought Chaewon to her current predicament—standing outside Yunjin’s flower shop, unsure of what to do.

A flash of movement caught her eye through the display glass. Chaewon suddenly realized that flower shops were actual businesses with real customers. For some reason, she had assumed the place would be empty, waiting for her to stroll in and have a one-on-one conversation with Yunjin.

But there was someone with her.

Something prickled inside Chaewon as she watched Yunjin and the girl laugh together. It wasn’t just a polite chuckle, but full-blown laughter, the kind that could be heard clearly even through the closed door. The chemistry between them was undeniable.

Too comfortable. Too close.

She tried not to stare, cheeks heating despite the cool morning air. Ridiculous. Totally ridiculous. Standing on the sidewalk like some kind of stalker, staring at Yunjin and…whoever that was.

Chaewon’s gaze shifted to the girl. She was definitely younger than Yunjin. Something about her reminded Chaewon of a potato, for some reason. Her bright eyes were fixed on Yunjin, soaking up every word.

In her arms was a sandwich wrapped in the same wax paper Chaewon recognized all too well. The same sandwich Yunjin had given her on the first day she moved in.

Why does she have that? Chaewon blinked. Her chest tightened. Why does it bother me so much? It’s just a sandwich.

But then Yunjin leaned forward and kissed the girl on the cheek. The kiss was soft and intimate; it made Chaewon’s stomach twist.

Yunjin pulled back, her gaze impossibly tender, her eyes filled with affection as she looked at the girl.

It was not directed at Chaewon.

Her breath caught in her throat. She stared, unable to look away, wishing the scene before her was some kind of optical illusion. But no—the faint lipstick mark on the girl’s cheek remained, and the blush was unmistakable. She playfully smacked Yunjin on the shoulder, causing them to laugh out loud again. 

Her hands clenched into fists without her noticing. She wanted to storm inside and demand an explanation, but her body refused to obey.

A surge of nausea hit. Her mind screamed at her to walk away, to stop being fixated at the scene. She pressed her hand against her mouth, trying to hold back the bile rising in her throat, but it was no use.

Chaewon was going to throw up.

Chaewon collapsed onto the lumpy couch in her studio, sinking into its familiar discomfort, face buried in the worn fabric. It was her safe place, where she crashed after the longest days, and right now, she needed it more than ever.

The biting scent of ink and alcohol filled her senses, embracing her like an old friend. Good. None of that flowery shit.

She didn’t want to think about Yunjin. Didn’t want to remember her voice, her laugh, or the stupid warmth in her eyes. She wanted to forget everything about Yunjin. Everything.

A shaky breath escaped her as she sank deeper into the couch, her chest still tight. At least she hadn’t thrown up. If she had, it would likely have meant facing Yunjin sooner than she was ready for. Her stomach clenched at the thought of seeing that concerned look on her face. 

Chaewon wasn’t the type to cry, especially not over spilled milk. This was on her. She should’ve known better than to read too much into someone being nice for once. She was a fucking idiot for letting herself believe something was there.

But part of her still wanted to blame Yunjin. Fuck her for being nice. Fuck her for sending mixed signals.

Fuck Chaewon for being an idiot.

A fucking red rose for Chaewon…and meanwhile, she was cozying up with some younger girl. Touching her. Kissing her. Acting like a certified creep.

“I ought to call the police on her…” The words came out sharp, but the humor didn’t. Just a hollow, bitter ache mixed with irritation.

Part of her hated that it hurt at all. Why did it hurt? Why did she care so much? No answers. Just questions.

Suddenly, her anger spiked, and she snapped upright from the couch. She snatched the rose from the counter, fingers tightening around it like she could crush the life out of it.

Of course, Yunjin had removed all the thorns. Sweet, thoughtful Yunjin, always making sure no one got hurt. Funny how that worked out—with her chest aching for reasons she didn’t fully understand.

The petals were bright, mocking her, almost too vivid to look at. She wanted to rip it to pieces. Crush it under her boots. Burn all remnants of it.

Stupid flower.

Stupid feelings.

Stupid Yunjin.

…But she couldn’t do it.

She growled, shoving the rose into the drawer. The deep crimson stared back at her, but with a final, sharp slam, she locked it away. Her fingers lingered on the handle a beat too long—and yanked her hand back like she had been burnt. 

“No more flowers,” she muttered to herself, voice low and hollow. “No more games…because I said so.”

Chapter Text

It was Wednesday, but Chaewon wasn’t ready to see Yunjin yet. Eventually, she knew she would have to, but not today. Not when a part of her still remembered that girl, laughing too easily with Yunjin, and it made her heart ache.

So she did what she did best: ran away, hid from the world, avoided the problem.

Just like how she was now, crouched beneath the counter, knees pulled close to her body, a sad frozen meal balanced on her lap. The only light in the shop came from the microwave’s faint glow, flickering like a lonely lighthouse in a vast, dark sea—except it offered no comfort.

She took a bite. It was awful. Rubbery, flavorless, almost offensive even for a three-dollar meal. 

Maybe it wasn’t the food at all. Maybe she couldn’t taste anything over the dull, heavy numbness in her chest. A part of her wanted to curse herself for the ache that wouldn’t go away.

The stupid flower. The stupid notes. How could she do all of that and expect me not to read into it?

And speak of the devil, the door handle rattled.

Of course it was Yunjin.

At least this time, Chaewon had remembered to flip the sign to “closed” and lock the door, warding off unwanted visitors.

Then came the knock, followed by Yunjin’s voice, muffled through the door. “Chaewon?” 

Chaewon clenched her jaw, holding her breath as if that could make her invisible. She bit her tongue to stop the word that almost slipped out. She hated how much she had missed that voice.

Seconds passed. With a sigh, the footsteps retreated, loud and ringing in her ears before fading completely.

The silence hung heavy, tasting like burned ash in her mouth.

Whatever. I don’t care about her…not that it matters.

Her words tasted bitter, worse than the frozen meal in her mouth.

Friday came, and Chaewon pressed herself against the window, pen idly tracing shapes on her tablet. She told herself she didn’t want to see Yunjin, but here she was, waiting for Yunjin to show up.

Her canvas should have been filled with tattoo designs, bold lines and intricate patterns. Instead, it was covered with sketches that almost resembled Yunjin’s face. She lingered over the details longer than necessary, imagining what it would be like to touch Yunjin.

Her chest fluttered, and she shoved the thought away, scolding herself for the ridiculous idea.

A sharp rap on the glass made her jump, though part of her had been expecting it.

Maybe it wasn’t Yunjin. Maybe it was Sakura, playing some dumb joke. 

“Chaewon!” Yunjin called, her voice bright and loud, filling the air like the sunshine she was.

Chaewon felt torn, elated and annoyed all at once. Why was Yunjin so loud? The sound scraped along her nerves, her pulse quickening, heartbeat pounding in her ears.

So loud.

“Where were you on Wednesday? I was worried!”

Chaewon kept her back turned, fingers tightening around her pen, willing herself to ignore the impossibly loud presence outside.

She hunched over, trying to make herself smaller, hoping she could just disappear.

A beat passed, and everything stopped. No more Yunjin. Only the faint music from her turntable filled the space, the grooves spinning toward silence.

Finally, some peace.

Assuming she had left, Chaewon slowly turned—only to find Yunjin there, eyes fixed on her, concern etched across her face.

“Are you alright?” Yunjin’s voice was lower now, like she was speaking to a scared child.

Chaewon’s jaw tightened. Not a child. She was not someone to be coddled. The measured concern in Yunjin’s tone only made a fire flare inside her, hot and humiliating.

She glared, saying nothing, her silence sharp and deliberate.

Without a word, she shoved her chair back. The legs scratched against the floor, a screech deafening in the quiet room.

She gave a quick glance over her shoulder. Yunjin’s eyes widened slightly, a flash of hurt crossing her face before Chaewon turned fully away. Each step echoed across the studio, louder than she expected.

How dare she feel hurt…after everything she did to me? Her jaw tightened.

Well…now she has to leave, right? She knows I don’t care. She has to.

That stupid soft voice, that pretty, pretty voice—ugh, whatever. She couldn’t let her see. Couldn’t let her know she’d actually thought there was…something. 

Stupid, stupid, stupid.

Chaewon let out a shuddering breath, her pulse slowed. She’ll leave. She doesn’t like me.

And I’ll show her. I don’t care. Not a single bit.

Yunjin was truly relentless, Chaewon had learned. Another flower waited on her doorstep that Monday.

She didn’t want it. No more. And yet, the petals…fine, they were beautiful. A soft baby blue, resting against the dull gray of the pavement, forcing her to look, even when she didn’t want to.

I’m blue, the note read. 

If this was supposed to make her feel guilty…if Yunjin thought a stupid flower and a couple of words could make her care—well, she had another thing coming.

Chaewon’s fingers closed around the stem, slowly strangling it. The petals gave way under her grip.

She saw herself in the flower. Fragile and twisted, drowning in the flurry of emotions Yunjin had stirred in her.

She had to get it out of her sight, or she would lose herself.

Like tossing out trash, she dropped it into Yunjin’s mailbox, slamming the lid shut with an explosive thud, as if burying the memory along with it.

Perhaps Chaewon hadn’t been clear enough last time. She should’ve torn the note apart and left no room for question.

Because on Wednesday, Yunjin came again, like she didn’t know when to stop, like she could just show up and pretend nothing had happened.

Chaewon stayed where she was, behind the counter, as if it were a fortress holding her together.

Yunjin stood by the doorway, holding a paper bag like a peace offering. She looked uncertain, shoulders drawn in. Chaewon couldn’t remember the last time she’d seen her like that.

“Hi,” Yunjin said quietly, giving an awkward wave.

It bothered her that it almost sounded sincere. Almost. But not for Chaewon. She knew better. This was just another game.

Chaewon didn’t respond. She just stared back with a blank expression, unmoving. 

“I…I brought lunch,” Yunjin tried again, her voice barely above a murmur. 

This wasn’t the Yunjin she knew. The real Yunjin was bright and bold, always laughing too loud. This one, careful and unsure, had to be an act. Another one of her tricks.

“I’m not hungry.”

Her words were curt, final, unyielding. 

Yunjin’s lips parted slightly, as if she might say something else, but nothing came. Her gaze dropped to the floor.

“I see.”

Chaewon watched her turn and leave. The door closed softly behind her, the bell’s chime lingering far too long.

She exhaled, only then realizing she’d been holding her breath. The shop felt colder.

Finally, some peace and quiet. This was what she wanted.

Yet it didn’t feel good at all. None of the satisfaction she had expected, only a hollow ache spreading through her. She was hurting, and she knew she had hurt Yunjin too.

Part of her wanted to call out, to say she was sorry, to fix it somehow. But another part, louder and sharper, told her no. She couldn’t let Yunjin see that she cared, that she still did.

She pressed her fingers into her palms, digging in almost to the point of breaking skin. The words she couldn’t say caught in her throat, but she swallowed them, letting them rot in silence.

If someone said Chaewon was blunt, direct, and often cruel, she could point to Yunjin to easily prove them wrong.

Chaewon saw her coming and planted herself by the window, knuckles white on the sill, bracing for the inevitable.

If Yunjin was subdued last time, now she was small and sad, shoulders heavy as she lifted a hand to knock.

The sight made Chaewon’s chest tighten, a spark of fury igniting—how dare she look hurt now, after everything?

Chaewon had reached her limit. She yanked the window open.

“Chaewon—”

“You just don’t know when to quit it.”

She slammed her hands against the frame of the window. The glass rattled under the impact, and Yunjin flinched.

“Stop! Stop already!” Chaewon’s voice cut sharp, like a papercut. “I don’t want anything from you. Leave me alone!”

Yunjin froze. Her mouth parted, eyes glistening, lips pressed together as if holding back words—and tears she didn’t want Chaewon to see.

Her throat bobbed as she swallowed hard, then bolted, stumbling away to put distance between them.

Chaewon didn’t move, didn’t look away, though her chest burned with a mix of triumph and dread.

Yunjin’s footsteps faded, and the studio felt impossibly empty, the silence pressing against her like a physical weight. The last rays of the setting sun slipped away, leaving the room dim and cold.

Heat pooled behind her eyes. Her palms pressed against her face, trying to hold back the flood she knew was coming, but it surged anyway.

Tears streaked down her cheeks, sobs shaking her chest, releasing all the fear, anger, and heartbreak she’d held inside. She sank against the counter, trembling, letting herself fall apart in the quiet studio as darkness crept in, chilling her to the bone.

Monday. Empty doorstep.

Well, this was it. Yunjin had finally given up on her. She should be relieved that her wishes had been granted, but she wasn’t. 

Chaewon stocked up on crappy frozen meals and takeout menus on Tuesday, just in case. She moved mechanically, the routine grounding her.

Wednesday passed with no Yunjin to bring her lunch. No carefully packed boxes, no small gestures of thoughtfulness. She wondered, not for the first time, how much care Yunjin had poured into those meals.

Sunlight entered through the window on Thursday, catching the flowers left behind days ago. They were wilting, colors fading, petals curling inward. Chaewon watched them with a grimace, the weight of finality settling over her.

Friday came, and only silence remained. No knocks on the window. No silly doodles. 

Chaewon sank onto the edge of her counter, staring at the ceiling. The studio was quiet, emptier than ever. She could feel Yunjin’s absence pressing against her chest.

She let her mind drift over the past few weeks. The way she had snapped at Yunjin, refused every attempt, shoved away every kind gesture—all in an effort to keep her heart safe.

Now, she had no choice but to admit the truth.

It hadn’t been the flowers, the lunches, or the doodles. All of it had been Yunjin. She, a warm sun, had left a mark, shining through Chaewon’s shadowed walls. She liked her. She had always liked her.

But it didn’t matter. Yunjin wasn’t coming back.

No more flowers. No more Yunjin. Chaewon had severed the ties. Her world, once bright, had turned gray, curling inward like the wilted petals.

And yet…some small, stubborn part of her still hoped.

Pathetic.

Chapter Text

Chaewon was slouched in her chair behind the counter, legs stretched out, tablet balanced on her stomach. She hadn’t bothered to brush her hair, letting it fall freely, the hood of her sweatshirt drawn just enough to hide most of her face.

When the door creaked open, Chaewon barely looked up, until she realized who it was.

Yunjin stood in the doorway, keeping her distance. She tried to steady herself, but the tension in her posture betrayed her.

To Chaewon, she looked smaller somehow, the brightness that usually followed her dimmed to a quiet, nervous glow.

“...Yunjin?” Chaewon said, careful not to startle her.

Yunjin’s head snapped up, as if Chaewon’s voice had reminded her where she was. She blinked, taking in the studio, her expression unreadable.

“...Hi, Chaewon.” Her voice was small, almost drowned out by the quiet hum of the turntable, its platter spinning empty after the record ended. She swallowed, then added, “I…um…I need to tell you something.”

Chaewon set her tablet down on the counter, eyes fixed on Yunjin. Whatever this was, it mattered enough for her to stand here, despite everything.

On a Tuesday, no less. Yunjin never came over on Tuesdays.

Yunjin faltered, scratching the back of her neck. Her voice was shaky when she finally spoke.

“I was thinking about what you said last time.”

Their eyes met for a brief moment. Chaewon saw the hurt she had caused reflected in Yunjin’s gaze, before Yunjin looked down.

“I’d thought…maybe there was something between us…that you liked me too,” she admitted, with a short, humorless laugh. “But…I guess I was wrong. I probably misunderstood everything.”

Wait. What?

Chaewon’s mind spun. Over the past week, she’d convinced herself Yunjin didn’t feel the same. That she’d ruined whatever connection they had.

And yet here she was, standing in front of Chaewon, saying…that. None of it made sense. Yunjin wasn’t supposed to like her.

With a deep exhale, Yunjin’s hand slipped into her apron pocket and took out a small yellow flower.

Chaewon’s eyes lingered on it, remembering the first sunflower Yunjin had given her; loud, radiant, impossible to ignore. This one, soft and pale, felt like a whisper.

Yunjin placed it gently on the counter, the gesture carrying a finality.

“So, yeah,” Yunjin said, voice trembling slightly, “I…promise I’ll stop. And I’m sorry for bothering you.”

Chaewon’s throat tightened. 

No.

She wanted to speak. She wanted to tell Yunjin everything. 

I like you too. Please stay. Please don’t leave.

But her voice wouldn’t come. Her mind was spinning too fast, emotions colliding—shock, guilt, longing—leaving her paralyzed. 

Yunjin lingered for a beat, offering a fragile, sad smile, as if reading the unspoken understanding in Chaewon’s silence. Then, quietly, she turned and walked away.

The studio fell silent, empty now without her warmth.

Chaewon barely registered the silence, frozen in place, when the sudden screech from the turntable made her jump.

She blinked, heart racing. Was that a dream? Did that really just happen? 

She turned to the counter. The flower was still there.

Yunjin actually came, and said…that.

She likes me. 

“Oh my God.”

Chaewon felt like the world’s biggest fool.

“You fucking idiot. What the fuck.”

Fuck. Fuck! FUCK!

“I have to fix this. I can’t let her go.”

She bolted out the door, tripping over her own feet and nearly faceplanting in the process.

Chaewon yanked the door open with all the force she could muster, nearly ripping it from its hinges. Her eyes darted across the shop, then stopped.

Yunjin crouched by a half-potted plant, hands in the soil, a smudge of dirt on her cheek. The slam made her snap her head up, startled.

Chaewon’s eyes narrowed on her. “You.”

Yunjin scrambled back, hitting the counter, trapped. “Please don’t hurt me,” she stammered. “Or…just not my face?”

Chaewon’s mouth twitched, not in amusement but disbelief. “Serious? Who do you think I am?” she muttered, shaking her head before striding forward, boots crunching over scattered soil.

She stopped right in front of Yunjin, right in her face.

“You idiot.” Her voice cracked, tight and low. “You pour your heart out, give me a damn flower…and just leave?”

Yunjin flinched, fingers twisting together. “I didn’t want to make you uncomfortable,” she murmured.

“Who told you I was uncomfortable?”

“...No one,” Yunjin whispered, shrinking under Chaewon’s gaze.

“Exactly. No one.” Chaewon’s tone steadied, though her pulse still raced. “You didn’t even wait for me to say anything. You just walked out like that was the end of it.”

Yunjin blinked, brows furrowing. “Well…I counted ten Mississippis. I thought that was enough.”

Chaewon groaned, pressing a hand to her forehead. “You are such a nerd.” She drew in a shaky breath, tension in her body refusing to ease. “Fine. Then listen. Really listen this time.”

Yunjin’s shoulders hunched, like a child in trouble, lower lip trembling. Her gaze dropped to the floor, as if she wished she could disappear.

Chaewon sighed softly, the tension in her face loosening enough for tenderness to slip through. She reached out and tilted Yunjin’s chin up with two fingers until their eyes met.

“I like you, you idiot.”

Yunjin’s eyes widened. She opened her mouth, but Chaewon shot her a look that shut her right up.

“You drive me insane. You talk too much, you’re loud, you make me laugh with your bad jokes. You’re so goddamn pretty it’s distracting, and I hate that I notice every single time.

“And you make me feel when I don’t want to. Those stupid little flowers, the notes, doodles that looked nothing like me—I kept them all, okay?”

Her voice caught. She hadn’t meant for it to sound so raw. Her hands were clenched at her sides.

The silence that followed stretched, thick and fragile, filled only by Chaewon’s uneven breathing.

She swallowed hard. “So next time…don’t just leave. Stay. Let me say something back. Wait for eleven Mississippis, at least.”

Chaewon waited for a laugh, a snort, or something. Instead, Yunjin’s eyes shimmered, and a tear slid down her cheek before she could stop it.

“Hey, hey.” Chaewon panicked. “Why are you crying?”

Yunjin wiped at her face with the back of her hand, smearing the dirt further across her cheek. “I—I didn’t think you’d feel the same,” she hiccuped. “I thought I was just…being stupid.”

Chaewon’s expression melted. She cupped Yunjin’s face, thumb brushing away the tears. “You are stupid,” she said, somewhere between fondness and frustration. “But I still like you, you crybaby.”

Yunjin let out a wet laugh, then sniffled and buried her face in the crook of Chaewon’s neck.

Chaewon wrapped her arms around Yunjin without hesitation, the scent of flowers and damp soil filling her senses.

They stayed like that for a long while, breathing the same air, hearts settling into the same rhythm.

The moment felt like it could stretch forever—until Yunjin poked Chaewon’s side, breaking the silence with a timid question.

“Um, so...what do we do now?”

Chaewon huffed out a quiet, disbelieving laugh, fingers threading through Yunjin’s tangled hair. “Now,” she said, “I’m gonna kiss you, because you’re too much of an idiot to do it yourself.”

Yunjin didn’t move. Didn’t even blink. She just nodded.

Chaewon leaned in and closed the distance.

The kiss was messy and clumsy, but real. She pressed closer, letting Yunjin’s warmth anchor her. Relief settled in, quiet and steady. Warmth bloomed in her chest, because Yunjin was here, right here, with her.

When Chaewon finally pulled away, she was panting, forehead still resting against Yunjin’s. She bit Yunjin’s bottom lip gently, whispering, “Idiot.”

Chapter Text

Three weeks had passed since their heart-to-heart. The air between them had changed. No longer heavy, no longer uncertain.

Just easy. 

They had settled into a quiet routine—funny, given how loud Yunjin could be.

Chaewon had started being…well, nicer to her, less explosive than before. She was no longer in denial of her feelings and finally knew what she wanted.

Yunjin still brought flowers, but not on a strict Monday schedule anymore. She gave them whenever one caught her eye, or when she wanted to see Chaewon.

In return, Chaewon began leaving little doodles in random spots for Yunjin to discover.

The flower shop was already open when Chaewon arrived. The bell over the door chimed, and the faint scent of flowers drifted over her as she stepped inside.

Yunjin was behind the counter, hair loosely tied back, bent over a book. She didn’t look up or notice Chaewon.

Chaewon set down a piece of paper near the register, a lazy sketch of a cheetah holding a sunflower in its mouth. She slipped it under a stack of invoices, leaving only the corner visible.

Through it all, Yunjin remained absorbed in her book, brow furrowed in concentration as she turned the page.

Chaewon scrunched her nose. Cute.

She stepped back, the bell jingling again as she opened the door.

That was when Yunjin finally looked up, eyes blinking as if waking from a dream. Her gaze drifted to the counter, landing on the folded paper.

Chaewon lingered just outside, far enough not to be seen but close enough to catch the moment Yunjin’s lips curved into a smile.

Everything was good.

Later in the day, Chaewon returned to the flower shop and found Yunjin in the same spot, hunched over a book, her shoulders trembling with quiet laughter.

“Laughing alone? That’s concerning,” Chaewon drawled, stepping closer, a smirk on her lips.

Yunjin jumped, shoving the book under the counter. “Chaewon!”

“I can’t believe you’ve been holed up here all morning. What is it this time? Some cheesy romcom?”

Yunjin grimaced but held the book out under Chaewon’s scrutinizing gaze.

Puns N Roses: 101 Flower Puns That Won’t Leaf You Bored.

Chaewon shook her head. “A pun book about flowers? You’re such a nerd.”

Yunjin’s shoulders slumped slightly, her head lowered as she hugged the book close. “Sorry.”

Chaewon reached out, brushing a stray strand of hair behind Yunjin’s ear. “You know it’s okay to be a nerd, right? I still like you the same.”

Yunjin froze, a small breath hitching in her chest. She opened her mouth to respond, but a loud, unmistakable growl from her stomach cut her off.

“Looks like puns alone won’t keep you alive,” Chaewon said. “My treat today—and I promise, not gas station coffee this time.”

“Hey! The coffee wasn’t that bad,” Yunjin quipped. “And it was the first thing you ever gave me.”

Chaewon raised an eyebrow, her tone serious. “I hope that’s the only reason you liked it, or I’m genuinely worried for your taste buds.”

Yunjin paused, pretending to think deeply. “Well…I guess my taste buds just can’t espresso how much they liked that coffee.”

Chaewon groaned, rubbing her forehead. “Come on. Let’s go before you think of another pun.” She offered her hand to Yunjin.

Yunjin laughed and slipped her fingers into Chaewon’s, eager and uncertain, like a puppy waiting for approval. The warmth sent a flutter through Chaewon.

“Good girl,” Chaewon murmured, her voice low and affectionate, giving Yunjin’s hand a gentle squeeze.

Yunjin’s cheeks reddened, and she returned the touch, quiet and shy.

Chaewon led Yunjin into Sakura’s restaurant—a small, cozy spot Sakura had opened after her obsession with kimchi stew got a little…out of hand. The spicy aroma and sizzling sounds from the grill filled the air, giving the space a warm, lively energy.

“Hey, Chae,” Sakura greeted, slouching against the counter with one elbow propped up. Her eyes barely lifted at first, but when they landed on Yunjin, they went wide. She tilted her head, studying her. “And you are…?”

Yunjin blinked, cheeks warming, and glanced at Chaewon as if seeking guidance. “Um…”

Chaewon smirked. Without missing a beat, she linked their arms together. “She’s my girlfriend,” she announced, voice low but proud.

A shy smile tugged at Yunjin’s lips. “Nice to meet you,” she murmured, waving awkwardly at Sakura.

Sakura froze mid-motion, then dramatically dropped the tray she’d been holding—empty, thankfully—and declared, “I’m taking my break now. Do not interrupt unless someone is dying.”

Chaewon rolled her eyes. “We’re here for lunch, not an interrogation.”

Sakura huffed, arms crossed, eyes narrowing. “Fine. But next time...”

She guided them to a booth just within her line of sight, leaning slightly to mouth at Chaewon as they sat down: I’m watching you.

Yunjin sat down, and Chaewon slid in beside her, nudging her to scoot inside. Yunjin was now tucked safely out of view, much to Sakura’s annoyance.

While waiting for their food, Chaewon asked casually, “Why were you embarrassed to call me your girlfriend earlier?”

Yunjin’s fingers twisted at the hem of her shirt, a faint laugh escaping her lips. “Um, I wasn’t sure. I mean…we haven’t exactly talked about this.”

Chaewon gently took her hand, stilling her fidgeting, her fingers naturally intertwining with Yunjin’s. “Well, now you know.”

Yunjin’s smile softened, her gaze lingering on their joined hands.

For dinner, they had spaghetti at Chaewon’s place.

It was still early, so Chaewon settled at her desk to work on some designs. Yunjin curled up on the couch with another book—thankfully, not about puns—and lost herself in the pages.

From the corner of her eye, Chaewon noticed Yunjin’s gaze drifting toward her again and again.

“What?” Chaewon asked, glancing up from her work.

“Nothing,” Yunjin murmured, cheeks warming as she quickly averted her eyes.

This repeated a few more times, and each time Chaewon caught it, she resisted the urge to comment. Chaewon was captivating, so it wasn’t surprising Yunjin wanted to steal glances.

Gradually, Chaewon grew more worried. There was something unspoken in Yunjin’s eyes she couldn’t ignore.

On the third glance, Chaewon set down her tablet and leaned back. “Yunjin…are you alright?”

Instead of answering, Yunjin’s composure crumbled, her eyes filling with tears.

Chaewon’s heart jumped. She dropped her work and moved to sit beside her, taking Yunjin’s trembling hand in hers. Her thumb traced small, gentle circles over it, grounding them both.

“Hey, hey. What’s wrong?” Her voice steady despite the sudden panic.

Yunjin hiccupped, tears spilling down her cheeks, her voice barely audible. “You…you used to be so mean. I’m not used to you being...like this.”

Chaewon frowned in confusion. “Like…what?” 

“You…being nice.”

“Wait, you’re crying because I’m being nice to you?”

“It’s weird, okay!” Yunjin shot back, pouting.

A small smirk tugged at Chaewon’s lips. “Didn’t know you were into mean girls. I can be mean again if you want.”

“No. I like you this way,” Yunjin admitted, her voice barely above a whisper.

Chaewon exhaled, settling close to wrap an arm around Yunjin. She didn’t rush; she simply let her presence be a quiet anchor in the moment.

Eventually, Yunjin’s body loosened, her shoulders relaxing against Chaewon. She let out a shaky sigh, gathering her courage to speak again.

“Sometimes it just feels…unreal. Like I’ll wake up tomorrow and you won’t be here. That you…you don’t actually want me like this.”

Chaewon pressed a light kiss to Yunjin’s temple, grounding her in the moment. “I’m right here.”

Yunjin’s lips trembled, more tears sliding down her cheeks as her emotions welled up once more.

Chaewon chuckled softly, brushing a hand through her hair. “Crybaby.”

Yunjin laughed too, leaning more against Chaewon’s shoulder, her damp cheek resting against her neck. Within minutes, her breath had settled completely, her chest rising and falling in a steady, peaceful rhythm.

Chaewon watched her, brushing a stray strand of hair away.

I’m not going anywhere. Not ever.

Chapter Text

The bell above the door jingled, dragging Chaewon out of her lazy afternoon slump.

A girl had walked in.

And immediately, Chaewon froze.

It was her. The girl she’d seen with Yunjin. The one who had sent spikes of jealousy shooting straight into her chest. And yes, she could admit it now: she was jealous. Very, very jealous. Thank you for asking.

“Hey there!” the girl chirped, practically radiating sunshine.

Chaewon narrowed her eyes. She wanted to dislike her. Wanted to glare. Maybe even growl.

But…okay. Fine. She was cute. Slightly annoying, but undeniably cute with her chubby cheeks.

“How can I help you?” Chaewon asked, voice clipped but professional.

The girl bounced on the balls of her feet. “I was wondering if I could get a tattoo of a potato?”

A potato.

A. Fucking. Potato.

Chaewon blinked. “A…potato?”

“Yup!”

She wanted to roll her eyes, wanted to snark, but she also wanted to see what ridiculous thing she could put on this girl. 

“No problem. Let me sketch something while you fill out these forms.”

“Awesome! Oh, my name’s Ruby, by the way,” the girl said, handing over her ID.

“Chaewon,” she replied flatly, already sketching a glorious potato smiley. She gave the ID a quick glance—just enough to make sure Ruby wasn’t underage.

The design didn’t take long. Soon, Chaewon set the tablet down with a little flourish. “Alright. Here it is.”

Ruby leaned in, eyes wide. “Whoa! That’s perfect—you mashed it!”

Chaewon pinched the bridge of her nose. “Congratulations. You just ruined my day.”

Ruby only grinned and took her seat, buzzing with impatient energy.

During the session, she launched into nonstop chatter—favorite foods, the weirdest tattoos she’d seen online, and questions about Chaewon herself.

Chaewon tried to stay annoyed, but the girl’s mischievous, cat-like energy kept creeping in. It was different from Yunjin’s bright, eager, puppy-ish charm, yet similar. Cute, infuriating, and impossible to ignore.

Nearly two hours later, the potato was finished. Chaewon gave the usual lecture on aftercare, which Ruby mostly ignored, nodding enthusiastically anyway.

“Thanks, Chaewon! See you later!” Ruby chirped, practically skipping out of the studio.

Chaewon waved, mumbling under her breath, “See you later? What the hell does that mean?”

She shook her head and trudged over to Yunjin’s shop, curiosity gnawing at her.

When she arrived…Ruby was there again.

Yunjin was crouched slightly, rolling up Ruby’s shirt to admire the fresh ink. Their proximity made Chaewon’s chest tighten—jealousy spiking before she even had time to think.

“What are you doing?” Chaewon hissed.

“Chaewon! Look at this tattoo! Isn’t it amazing?” Yunjin said, eyes sparkling.

“Yeah, well…that’s my work,” Chaewon grumbled, arms crossed.

Yunjin continued, “I was so worried when Eunchae said she wanted a tattoo—I mean, she’s just a baby!”

Wait. What? Chaewon blinked. Eunchae? Ruby is Eunchae?

“Oh shit,” Chaewon muttered to herself. “I’m a fucking idiot.”

“What was that?” Yunjin asked, finally pausing mid-rant about how babies shouldn’t get tattoos.

“Nothing,” Chaewon murmured, trying to hide her flustered blush.

Yunjin smoothed the hem of Eunchae’s shirt back down. “Honestly, I don’t know why I was worried. The tattoo is perfect.”

“Yeah, I’m so jealous of your talent, Chaewon,” Eunchae said, voice dripping with faux innocence.

Fuck. She knows. She knows I’m a jealous idiot.

Their eyes met. Eunchae’s glimmered with mischief, a slow, impish grin spreading across her face.

Chapter Text

Chaewon was lounging in her studio, scrolling through her phone, when Yunjin stepped inside.

She glanced up just enough to notice Yunjin looking nervous—cheeks faintly pink, hands tucked behind her as if hiding something.

“Hey,” Chaewon said softly, tilting her head. “What’s up?”

Yunjin shuffled from foot to foot. “Um…I have something to show you.”

Chaewon nodded, waiting. She watched Yunjin’s gaze dart to the floor and back, the subtle stiffening of her stance, clearly trying to gather courage.

“I…do some music on the side,” Yunjin admitted, voice unsteady. “And I’ve been working on a new one…inspired by you.”

She nudged something forward—an album, bright and colorful, into Chaewon’s line of sight.

Chaewon froze. She’d never seen the album before, but the colors and design screamed JenJen—the artist she’d adored for years.

Her heartbeat spiked. Yunjin is JenJen.

Yunjin shifted, cheeks warming further, misreading Chaewon’s stunned silence. “Is this…weird? I’m sorry—”

Before Yunjin could finish, Chaewon shot upright; the chair behind her clattered to the floor.

She grabbed Yunjin’s wrist, pulling her close. Yunjin’s mouth opened, another apology forming, but Chaewon silenced her with a deep, confident kiss.

Yunjin melted against her. Chaewon deepened it further, letting their breaths mingle, letting the world shrink to this impossibly perfect moment.

When Chaewon finally pulled back, Yunjin was dazed, chest rising and falling quickly.

“W-Why did you do that?” Yunjin asked, voice breathless.

Chaewon brushed a loose strand of hair from Yunjin’s face, grinning, breath slightly ragged. “Because you’re amazing. And I love you.”

Yunjin furrowed her brow in confusion. “Um…OK! I’ll play it for you now.”

She hurried to insert the CD into the player, then settled beside Chaewon on the couch.

Meanwhile, Chaewon was drooling. JenJen…my JenJen…

The first note rang out, light and perfect. Chaewon’s excitement went nuclear. Warm blood spurted from her nose, dizziness hitting hard. Her body went slack, nearly collapsing forward.

“Chaewon!” Yunjin caught Chaewon under the shoulders, her eyes flitted around in panic, unsure what to do.

At that exact moment, Sakura stepped into the studio, taking in the chaos with wide eyes.

“Chae—whoa. What’s going on?”

Yunjin tightened her grip on Chaewon, eyes flicking to Sakura, desperate for help. “I was just playing her some music!”

Sakura picked up the album and snorted, trying—and failing—to suppress a laugh.

“Sakura! This is not funny!” Yunjin exclaimed, holding Chaewon steady against her, voice trembling. “What if she’s sick?”

“Right, sorry.” Sakura pulled up Chaewon’s Spotify Wrapped from last year and held the screen up for Yunjin.

JenJen. Top 0.001% of listeners.

Yunjin blinked, her panic freezing as realization dawned, the pieces finally clicking into place.

“Oh.”

Chaewon, still weak in Yunjin’s arms, mumbled incoherently, a dreamy smile on her face. “I love you…my JenJen…”