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The living room was quiet, save for the aggressive clicking of controller buttons and the low hum of the television. Wonhee and Iroha had been sitting on the same floor cushion for the past three hours, a half-eaten bag of honey butter chips sitting precariously between them. They had been inseparable since they were toddlers, which usually meant their dynamic consisted of 90% insults and 10% genuine affection. They knew everything about each other, from Iroha’s embarrassing fear of earthworms to the exact face Wonhee made when she was trying to calculate a tip at a restaurant.
Because they were so close, personal space had never really existed between them. It was completely normal for Wonhee to use Iroha’s lap as a footrest, or for Iroha to casually rest her chin on Wonhee’s shoulder to see what she was scrolling through on her phone. But lately, something in the air had shifted, and Wonhee was currently running on a severe mental delay.
It all started when Iroha decided to shift her weight, casually draping her entire left leg over Wonhee’s thighs while throwing an arm over Wonhee’s shoulders. Wonhee didn’t blink; this was standard protocol. They were in the middle of a high-stakes co-op boss fight, and coordination was key.
“Move to the left, baby, you’re blocking my shot,” Iroha said casually, her eyes glued to the screen.
Wonhee’s thumb slipped entirely off the joystick. Her character immediately walked straight off a cliff and died a dramatic, pixelated death, the respawn timer ticking down mercilessly in the corner of the screen.
What the hell—? Did she just say what I think she said? Wonhee thought, her heart doing a sudden, violent flip-flop in her chest. Baby? Since when am I “baby”? I am literally a whole year older than her! I taught this girl how to ride a bicycle without training wheels! Heck, I saw her in her diapers!
“Hey, why did you stop moving? We’re going to lose the match!” Iroha asked, turning her head to tilt it curiously. She didn’t even move her arm from Wonhee’s shoulders; in fact, she pulled the older girl a little closer, their cheeks almost brushing.
“You... what did you just call me?” Wonhee exclaimed, her face warming up at an alarming rate. She stared blankly at the television screen, completely ignoring the fact that their team was being obliterated.
Iroha blinked, a slow, mischievous smirk spreading across her face. She loved when Wonhee got flustered, but this was a whole new level of reaction. She leaned in even closer, propping her chin directly on Wonhee’s shoulder, her breath tickling Wonhee’s neck. “What, baby? Is there a problem with the way I’m talking to you?”
Oh, she is doing this on purpose, Wonhee realized, her mind completely panicking. Why is my face hot? Why is my heart beating so fast? She’s a menace. I literally helped her bandage her knee when she fell out of a tree at age seven. She cannot do this to me. This should be illegal!
“Stop calling me that,” the older said, trying to sound stern but failing miserably as her voice cracked slightly at the end. She tried to shrug Iroha’s chin off her shoulder, but the younger girl just anchored herself tighter, wrapping both arms around Wonhee’s waist in a tight hug.
“Respect is earned, baby,” the younger teased, digging her face into the crook of Wonhee’s neck and laughing at the visible shudder that passed through the older girl. “Besides, you’re cute when you’re flustered. Look at you, you’re turning into a total tomato.”
“I am not a tomato!” Wonhee yelled, shoving a couch pillow directly into Iroha’s face to hide her own blush.
Iroha just laughed, muffled against the fabric, before wrestling the pillow away and tossing it across the room. “Admission of guilt! You’re totally freaked out! I didn’t know a simple little nickname could break your brain so easily.”
“My brain is perfectly fine,” Wonhee grumbled, though she didn’t look at Iroha. Instead, she picked up her controller with trembling hands, trying to focus on the game while her chest thudded like a bass speaker.
An hour after Iroha had gone home, Wonhee was still suffering the consequences. She was lying flat on her back in her bed, staring up at the ceiling fan as it spun around and around. Every time she closed her eyes, she heard Iroha’s voice echoing in her ears. Baby. It was ridiculous. It was a joke. Iroha was just trying to get under her skin because that was what Iroha did best.
Suddenly, her phone buzzed loudly against her nightstand, vibrating with a frantic energy that could only belong to one person. Wonhee snatched it up, seeing Iroha’s face pop up on the screen under the contact name ‘Roha’.
She swiped answer, pressing the phone to her ear. “What do you want? It’s almost midnight.”
“Can’t a girl call her favorite person?” Iroha’s infuriatingly cute voice drifted through the speaker, sounding entirely too bright and cheerful for the hour. Wonhee could hear the rustle of blankets on the other end. “I was doing the history reading for tomorrow, and honestly, my brain is leaking out of my ears. Help me.”
“I took that class last year, Roha-yah. I am not doing your homework for you,” the older said, rolling over onto her side and squeezing a stuffed animal to her chest.
“I don’t need you to do it, I just need moral support. And maybe a summary of chapter four,” Iroha chuckled softly. There was a brief pause, the sound of a few pages turning, and then Iroha let out a soft sigh. “I’m tired, baby. Come over and read it to me.”
Wonhee froze. Her grip on her stuffed animal tightened so hard she thought the seams might burst. She choked on her own saliva, letting out a pathetic, muffled cough into her pillow.
“Are you dying over there?” Iroha asked, her tone dripping with mock innocence.
“I told you to stop calling me that!” Wonhee yelled into the receiver, her heart rate spiking all over again. Why does she keep doing it when I’m not even there to see her face? Is she trying to kill me via telecommunications?
“Calling you what, baby?” the younger asked, her voice dropping into a lower, softer register that made Wonhee’s stomach do a complete gymnastics routine.
“That! The ‘B’ word!” Wonhee exclaimed, throwing her legs over the side of her bed and pacing around her room in the dark. “It’s weird! We are friends! We have thrown mud at each other! I know what you look like when you have the flu!”
“And I know what you look like when you wake up with bedhead, but I still think you’re cute,” Iroha retorted easily. “Anyway, don’t forget we have to walk to school together tomorrow. Sleep well, baby. Don’t dream about me too much.”
Before Wonhee could even formulate a proper threat, the line went dead. She stared at her phone screen in disbelief. A moment—or a whole 30 minutes—later, she slid down the side of her wall, burying her face in her knees.
I am losing my mind, she thought, her face burning in the darkness of her bedroom. I am officially losing my mind.
The next morning, the sun was entirely too bright, and the school hallway was entirely too loud. Wonhee stood by her locker, trying to organize her textbooks for her morning classes. She hadn’t slept well, thanks to a certain someone, and she was currently trying to rely on a travel mug of coffee to keep her functional.
“Wonhee-yah!” Yunah, a fellow student council officer, called out. The other girl walking over to chat about an upcoming project for the school.
“Oh. Hello, unnie,” Wonhee greeted back, forcing a smile. “Yeah, I looked over the slides you sent last Friday, and I think we just need to finish the—”
Before she could finish her sentence, a pair of arms suddenly wrapped around her waist from behind. A heavy chin dropped squarely onto Wonhee’s right shoulder, and the distinct scent of musk and mild laundry detergent invaded her senses. Iroha had materialized out of nowhere, attaching herself to Wonhee’s back like a very needy koala—or a turtle in this case.
“Morning,” Iroha mumbled against Wonhee’s neck, her arms tightening around the older girl’s waist. She squeezed tightly, swaying them both from side to side right there in the middle of the crowded hallway.
Yunah blinked, looking amused. Wonhee, on the other hand, nearly dropped her biology textbook. “Iroha! What are you doing? Let go, I’m talking to someone.”
“But I missed you, baby,” Iroha said loudly, completely uncaring of the fact that three other students turned around to look at them. She shifted her head, planting her cheek against Wonhee’s shoulder, looking up at Yunah with a bright smile. “Don’t mind me, Yunah unnie, just recharging my batteries.”
Yunah chuckled, waving her hand. “Right, well, I’ll just text you about the project later, Wonhee-yah. Take care, you two!”
“Wait, no, don’t leave me!” Wonhee called out, but Yunah was already disappearing into the sea of students. Wonhee immediately turned her attention to the human backpack currently fused to her spine. “Get off me! People are looking!”
“Let them look,” the younger said, finally letting go of Wonhee’s waist only to immediately grab Wonhee’s right hand instead.
Before Wonhee could protest, Iroha threaded their fingers together, locking them in a firm, casual grip. It wasn’t just a quick hand-hold to lead her through the crowd; Iroha was genuinely holding her hand, palm to palm, swinging their arms slightly as they began walking down the hallway toward the cafeteria.
Her hand is so warm, Wonhee thought, her brain short-circuiting as she looked down at their joined fingers. Why is she doing this? She never holds my hand like this. Usually, she just grabs my wrist to drag me toward food. This is... this is different. This feels like...
“Your hand is shaking, baby. Are you cold?” Iroha asked, turning her head to give Wonhee a worried look, though the corner of her mouth was twitching upward.
“I am not cold, I am highly stressed by your lack of boundaries,” the older said, trying to pull her hand away.
Instead of letting go, Iroha gripped tighter, pulling Wonhee’s up and shoving both of their joined hands straight into the deep pocket of her oversized light gray hoodie. The sudden movement pulled Wonhee flush against Iroha’s side, their shoulders rubbing together as they walked.
“There. Now you won’t freeze,” The younger said decisively, flashing a triumphant grin.
“I am going to trip you in front of the principal,” Wonhee muttered under her breath, though she didn’t actually make any move to extract her hand from the warm pocket. In fact, she secretly squeezed Iroha’s fingers back, a tiny action that did not escape the younger girl’s notice, causing her grin to soften into something real and remarkably sweet.
By the weekend, Wonhee thought she had built up a temporary immunity to Iroha’s antics. She was wrong.
They had been tasked by Wonhee’s mother to run to the grocery store to grab ingredients for a family dinner. It was a mundane task; one they had done a hundred times before. Usually, it involved Iroha riding on the back of the shopping cart like a pirate while Wonhee pushed her down the aisles, narrowly avoiding displays of cereal boxes.
Today started out no different. Iroha was currently leaning over the handle of the cart, kicking her legs out behind her as Wonhee pushed.
“We need eggs, milk, peas, and a bag of potatoes,” Wonhee said, consulting the list on her phone. “Keep an eye out for the dairy aisle.”
“Aye, aye, captain,” Iroha said, before suddenly dropping off the cart and grabbing Wonhee’s arm. She didn’t just grab it; she wrapped both of her arms around her bicep, leaning her entire body weight against the older girl as they walked past the bakery section. “Ooh, look at that huge garlic bread. Can we get some, baby? Please?”
The word shot through Wonhee like a bolt of electricity. An elderly woman picking out a loaf of wheat bread nearby paused, turning to give the two girls a fond, knowing smile.
“Stop,” Wonhee whispered aggressively, her face turning a violent shade of pink. “Stop saying that out loud in public!”
“Saying what, baby?” Iroha asked, tilting her head back to look up at her with wide, innocent eyes. She squeezed Wonhee’s arm tighter against her side, her chest pressing against Wonhee’s elbow. “I’m just asking for a treat. You know I have a huge appetite.”
“You are a menace to society,” the older said, her voice a little choked. She tried to focus on the shopping cart, but having the younger girl attached to her arm like an affectionate vine was making it incredibly difficult to steer.
They made it to the freezer aisle, the cold air blasting them as they opened the glass doors to find a specific brand of frozen peas. Iroha, who was wearing a black short-sleeved shirt despite the air conditioning, immediately let out a dramatic shiver.
“Ugh, it’s freezing in here,” she complained.
Before Wonhee could even tell her that it was her own fault for not wearing a jacket, Iroha slid her hands right under the hem of her thick, oversized sweatshirt. Iroha’s cold palms pressed flat against the bare skin of Wonhee’s waist, seeking warmth.
Wonhee let out a high-pitched squeak, nearly jumping out of her sneakers. The shopping cart rolled forward a few inches on its own. “What are you doing?! Your hands are ice!”
“You’re like a portable heater, baby,” The other girl laughed, completely unfazed by her near-death experience. She didn’t remove her hands; instead, she stepped closer, pressing her forehead against Wonhee’s shoulder, her fingers curling slightly against her sides. “Just give me a second. You’re so warm.”
Internal system failure, Wonhee’s mind screamed. She stood absolutely frozen in the middle of the frozen food aisle, her hands gripping the handle of the shopping cart so hard her knuckles turned white. She could feel every single point of contact—the cool pressure of Iroha’s hands on her waist, the solid weight of Iroha’s body leaning into hers, the soft fabric of Iroha’s hair brushing against her neck. It didn’t feel like a joke anymore. It felt heavy. It felt like her chest was about to burst open.
“Roha-yah,” the older said softly, her voice losing its usual sharp, defensive edge. “Seriously, you’re going to give me a heart attack.”
Iroha paused. She slowly lifted her head from Wonhee’s shoulder, her eyes searching her face. For a brief second, the playful, teasing smirk vanished from the younger girl’s face, replaced by an expression that was intensely focused, her gaze dropping to Wonhee’s lips before darting back up to her eyes.
“Would that be so bad?” she murmured, her voice barely audible over the hum of the grocery store freezers.
Before Wonhee could even begin to process that question, Iroha pulled her hands out from under the sweatshirt, snatched a bag of frozen peas from the shelf, and tossed it into the cart with a bright, sudden laugh. “Come on, baby, we still need the potatoes!”
Wonhee stood there for a full five seconds, her hands resting on her waist where Iroha’s palms had just been. She is going to be the death of me, she thought, dragging her feet as she hurried to catch up with the chaotic girl who was already halfway down the next aisle.
That afternoon, the sky completely opened up, turning the day into a torrential downpour. Safe inside Iroha’s house, the two girls had retreated to the bedroom. A classic movie was playing on the television, but neither of them was really watching it. The sound of rain beating against the windowpane created a cozy, isolated world just for the two of them.
Iroha had dragged a massive, fluffy comforter off her bed and dumped it onto the floor, insisting they make a makeshift nest. Currently, Iroha was sitting between Wonhee’s legs, her back pressed firmly against her chest. Wonhee had her arms wrapped loosely around her waist to hold the blanket up around them, a position that Iroha had insisted was “logistically necessary for maximum warmth.”
Wonhee was trying to breathe normally, but it was an uphill battle. Every time Iroha shifted, the scent of her hair wafted up into her face.
“Hey,” Iroha said suddenly, tilting her head back so she could look up at her. From this angle, their faces were only inches apart. “You’ve been really quiet today, baby.”
That was it. That was the final straw. The casual drop of the nickname combined with the overwhelming physical closeness broke whatever restraint Wonhee had left.
“Okay, that’s it,” the older said, her voice tight. She didn’t let go of Iroha’s waist, but she tightened her grip slightly, preventing the younger girl from turning away. “We need to talk. Are you broken? Did you hit your head? Why do you keep calling me that?”
Iroha didn’t look panicked. In fact, she looked entirely pleased with herself. She twisted around in the blanket nest so she was facing Wonhee completely, crossing her legs and leaning forward, her knees brushing against Wonhee’s thighs.
“Calling you what, baby?” Iroha teased, her eyes sparkling with mischief.
“That! You know exactly what!” Wonhee exclaimed, throwing her hands up in frustration before dropping them back onto the blanket. “You’ve been doing this all week! You call me ‘baby’ at my house, you call me ‘baby’ on the phone, you say it in front of people at school, you say it at the grocery store! And you keep... you keep touching me! Like, more than usual! Holding my hand in the hallway? Putting your cold hands under my shirt? What is your game here?”
The younger girl watched her, her expression softening as Wonhee ran out of breath. The older girl’s face was flushed, her chest heaving slightly, her eyes wide with a mixture of confusion, frustration, and something deeper—something vulnerable that she had been trying to hide behind her anger.
“Do you really think it’s a game?” Iroha asked softly. The teasing tone was completely gone now, replaced by a quiet sincerity that made Wonhee’s heart stop entirely.
“I... I don’t know,” Wonhee stammered, her voice dropping into a quiet whisper. “You’re always teasing me. You love making me look stupid.”
“I love making you look flustered,” Iroha corrected gently. She reached out, her hand moving slowly, giving Wonhee plenty of time to pull away if she wanted to. When she stayed still, Iroha placed her hand flat against Wonhee’s cheek, her thumb wiping softly across her cheekbone. The touch was incredibly tender, a massive contrast to their usual chaotic shoving matches. “But I don’t think you’re stupid. Never.”
Wonhee swallowed hard, her eyes locked onto Iroha’s. Oh, she thought, the realization finally breaking through the panic. She isn’t trying to annoy me. She’s trying to tell me something.
“Then why?” she asked, her voice trembling slightly. “Why the nickname? I’m older than you, remember? It doesn’t even make sense.”
Iroha let out a soft, breathless laugh, her thumb tracing the line of Wonhee’s jaw. “Because ‘friend’ started feeling too small. And because every time I say it—every time I call you 'baby', your heart beats so loud I can hear it from across the room. Like right now. Do you realize now, baby?”
To prove her point, Iroha slid her hand down from Wonhee’s cheek, letting her palm rest flat against the center of her chest. Beneath the fabric of her shirt, Wonhee’s heart was beating fast, possibly the fastest she's ever felt since the moment she was born.
“See?” Iroha murmured, leaning in a little closer. “It makes you feel things. And honestly, baby... it makes me feel things too.”
Wonhee’s brain completely cleared of all the chaotic, panicked thoughts that had been plaguing her all week. In their place, a sudden, beautiful clarity washed over her. She looked at Iroha—her childhood friend, the girl who knew all her secrets, the girl who had been invading her personal space for years—and realized that she didn’t want Iroha to move away. She wanted her closer.
“You are so annoying,” the older said, a small, genuine smile finally breaking through her blush.
“I know,” Iroha whispered, her eyes dropping to Wonhee’s lips again, but this time she didn’t look away. “Are you going to throw me out the window now?”
“No,” Wonhee said, her own hand rising to cover Iroha’s hand where it rested against her heart. She squeezed Iroha’s fingers, leaning forward until their foreheads touched. “I think I’m going to let you keep the nickname. But only if you buy me some garlic bread next time.”
Iroha let out a joyful, triumphant laugh, her arms wrapping around Wonhee’s neck to pull her into a tight, fierce hug. “Deal, baby. Total deal.”
Wonhee buried her face in Iroha’s shoulder, her arms locking around the younger girl’s waist. The internal panic was completely gone, replaced by a warm, bubbling happiness that felt exactly like coming home.
Friends to lovers huh? I really didn’t see that coming.