Archive of Our Own

PUPPY

By Kim Minjeong, Reporter for the University Horizon

---

I always knew college would be a challenge. What I didn't expect was that the biggest one would be 5'6", wear the number 7 basketball jersey, and make my life a personal hell with that corner smile that made half the campus swoon.

But I'm getting ahead of myself.

My name is Kim Minjeong. I'm a journalism student, editor-in-chief of the University Horizon, and up until three months ago, my life was perfectly organized. I woke up, went to classes, spent my afternoons in the newsroom, and went home. Rarely did anything throw my routine off track.

Then came the state college basketball championship finals.

And with it, Yu Jimin.

---

The newsroom was chaos that Thursday. National University had just won the state championship for the first time in seven years, and the paper needed a cover story. Yeji, our sports editor, had come down with food poisoning after eating at that sketchy restaurant near the library. Wonyoung was covering the science fair. Miyeon had three late assignments.

It fell to me.

— Minjeong, you're the best writer we have — Yizhuo said, with that innocent smile I knew all too well. — And Yu Jimin specifically asked for someone from the top brass.

— She doesn't even know who I am.

— Oh, she knows — Yizhuo sang. — Everyone knows who you are. "The blonde from the paper." "The Horizon princess." You're basically a celebrity here, sweetie.

I rolled my eyes, grabbing my notepad and recorder. — Sunoo, you coming for photos?

Sunoo lifted his camera with a grin. — Sure. I heard the captain is pretty photogenic.

— I just want to get this over with and go back to editing the piece about the curriculum reform.

Little did I know that interview would change everything.

---

The gym was still packed when we arrived. Colorful confetti scattered across the floor, the smell of sweat and victory hanging in the air, euphoric fans refusing to leave. National University had beaten State 78 to 65, and at the center of it all, laughing loudly while hugging her teammates, was her.

Yu Jimin.

It was impossible not to notice her. Not just because she was the captain and the game's top scorer with 31 points. Not just because she held the trophy as if it had always belonged to her. But because there was something about her energy that sucked all the attention out of the room. Dark hair pulled up in a high ponytail, a few loose strands stuck to her forehead from sweat, eyes shining with that mix of exhaustion and euphoria. She was... magnetic. That's the right word. Magnetic in an irritating way.

Sunoo nudged my arm. — She's coming.

— What?

But before I could prepare myself, there she was. Yu Jimin stopped right in front of me, and the first thing she did was look me up and down with a crooked smile I would learn to hate.

— So you're Kim Minjeong — she said, and her voice was deeper than I expected. — The famous one.

— Reporter for the University Horizon — I corrected, raising my recorder. — Can we start the interview? I have a deadline.

— Straight to the point. I like it.

She pulled up a chair, sitting backwards, arms resting on the backrest, completely relaxed. As if she owned the place. As if the world revolved around her and she knew it.

I turned on the recorder.

— First, congratulations on the win. How would you describe the team's performance today?

— It was incredible. The girls gave everything on the court. We trained so hard for this moment and...

She answered properly for about thirty seconds. And then her eyes dropped to my notepad, then to my hand holding the pen, then to my face.

— You have really pretty eyes, you know?

I blinked. — What?

— Your eyes — she repeated, tilting her head. — They're big. Expressive. They look like a little puppy's.

Sunoo choked on his own saliva behind me.

I completely ignored it. — Back to the game. In the second quarter, when State cut the lead to five points, what was the strategy you...

— Do you always wear that lipstick color or was it to match the blazer?

— Excuse me?

— The lipstick — she pointed at my lips with her chin. — It's pretty. It suits you.

I closed my notepad. — Are you taking this interview seriously?

She smiled. That corner smile, kind of crooked, as if she knew a joke that no one else was in on. — Totally. You're the one not enjoying it.

— I'm not here to enjoy it. I'm here to do my job.

— And I'm here to answer your questions. You're just asking the wrong questions.

I took a deep breath. Counted to five mentally. Reopened the notepad.

— About your leadership as captain. How do you motivate the team in high-pressure moments?

She rested her chin on her hand. — You know, usually I shout, encourage, pat backs. But if you want, I can show you personally how I motivate people.

Sunoo had to cough to hide his laugh.

I finished the interview in record time. The answers I got were enough for a decent article, and when I finally turned off the recorder, I felt like I had run a marathon.

— It was a pleasure, Minjeong — she said, standing up. — Or actually, I'm going to call you Puppy.

— You're not going to call me anything. Interview's over.

— Puppy suits you.

— It doesn't.

— It does. Those big eyes, that angry little face... just like a pissed-off Maltese.

I was already walking away when I heard her laugh behind me. A nice laugh, loose, echoing through the gym and staying in my head for hours afterward.

I didn't know it at the time, but that was the beginning of the siege.

---

One Week Later

My phone vibrated during Theory of Communication class.

Unknown number: Good morning, Puppy. Sleep well?

I stared at the screen with a frown. Ignored it.

It vibrated again.

Unknown number: Ignoring is rude. Especially when someone just wants to know if you had breakfast.

I typed quickly: Who is this?

Unknown number: The person thinking about you right now.

I blocked the number.

Less than twenty minutes later, another number.

Unknown number 2: You blocked me? That hurts, you know?

I turned to the side and saw Yizhuo typing on her phone with a guilty smile.

— Yizhuo.

— Hi, Minjeong! — She practically jumped in her seat. — How are you?

— You gave my number to Yu Jimin?

Her smile widened. — She asked. Said it was for an article.

— For an article.

— Yeah... about basketball?

— You know I don't cover sports.

Yizhuo shrugged, but her eyes sparkled with amusement. — She was very polite. And persistent. Very persistent. Did you know she sent a basket of strawberries to the newsroom?

— She bribed you with fruit?

— And a gift card to that stationery store Miyeon loves. And tickets to a concert Wonyoung wanted. And...

— Enough. I get it. You sold me out.

— We didn't sell you! We just... facilitated interdepartmental communication.

My phone vibrated once more.

Unknown number 2: Are you mad? I bet you're making that angry face right now. Cute.

— I'm going to kill you — I murmured to Yizhuo, who just laughed.

---

Two Weeks Later

The university cafeteria was my moment of peace. Or it used to be.

I was in line, tray in hand, thinking about the article I needed to finish by the end of the day, when I felt the tray being pulled from my fingers.

— What the-

— Relax, I'll carry it.

Yu Jimin was there. In basketball shorts and a team tank top, hair still damp from her post-practice shower. She took my tray as if it were the most natural thing in the world and started walking.

— Give it back.

— Why? You're small, you'll get tired carrying this.

— I'm not small. And I've been carrying my own tray since I was seven years old.

— Well, today I’ll carry it for you. Look, there's an empty table over there.

She walked to the table, set my tray down carefully, and then pulled out a chair for me. Like a gentleman would do. Or like an idiot would do. The line was thin.

I sat down, defeated. — Don't you have something to do?

— I do. But I'd rather do this.

— This what? Annoy me?

She smiled, sitting across from me. — See you. You get that little scrunched-up nose when you're annoyed. Look, you're doing it now.

I immediately relaxed my facial muscles.

— Too late, I already saw it.

— What do you want, Jimin?

— To have lunch with you.

— I didn't invite you.

— I invited myself. — She rested her chin on her intertwined hands. — Do you always eat lunch alone?

— Because I like silence.

— How boring. I prefer noise. Laughter. Conversation.

— Then go have lunch with your friends. — I pointed to the table where Ryujin, Aeri, Yujin, Minnie, and Minji were sitting, all looking at us with wide grins. Ryujin gave Jimin a thumbs up, which she discreetly returned.

— They're fine. I want to have lunch with you.

— Why?

— Because I like you.

The statement was so direct, so devoid of shame, that I almost dropped my fork.

— You don't even know me.

— I do. You're Kim Minjeong. Blonde, beautiful, smart, newspaper editor, journalism major, big eyes, rare smile, hates when people mess with your coffee, loves horror movies but won't admit it, and has a really nice laugh that I've only heard once and want to hear again.

I was silent for a moment too long. How did she know about the horror movies?

— Yizhuo — I answered my own mental question.

— Yizhuo — Jimin confirmed with a smile.

— I'm going to kill that girl.

— Don't kill her, she's my informant. — Jimin stole a french fry from my plate. I smacked her hand, and she laughed. — That's it, fight me. I love it when you fight me.

— You're insufferable.

— I am. But you'll end up liking me.

— I won't.

— You will. You know why?

— I'm afraid to ask.

— Because I don't give up. — She bit into the stolen fry. — And because deep down, way deep down, you think this is fun.

— I think this is a nightmare.

— Well, I think you're a dream, Puppy.

— Don't call me that.

— Puppy.

— Jimin.

— Pup-py.

I stood up, grabbing my tray. — I lost my appetite.

— No, you didn't, you haven't even touched your food. — But she didn't stop me from leaving. She just stayed there, smiling, as I marched out of the cafeteria hearing her friends' laughter in the background.

My face was hot. From anger, probably.

Just anger.

---

Three Weeks Later

She showed up at the newspaper office.

I was reviewing the layout for the next edition, surrounded by papers, cold coffee cups, and the constant hum of computers. Wonyoung was helping me with the design, Yeji was proofreading the sports articles (finally recovered), Miyeon was handling the culture section, and Yizhuo... well, Yizhuo was about to die.

Because when the door opened and Yu Jimin walked into the newsroom in her practice uniform and crooked smile, Yizhuo was the first to wave.

— Jimin! What a surprise!

— Surprise my ass — I murmured. — You told her I was here.

— I did — Yizhuo admitted shamelessly. — She asked.

— You're a traitor.

— I'm a friend who wants to see you happy.

— I am happy. Was happy. Before her.

Jimin completely ignored the fact that she wasn't welcome. She circled the newsroom as if it were the most natural thing in the world, greeting everyone by name, asking how they were, complimenting the new photo Miyeon had put up on the wall. She knew everyone. Of course she did. She was Yu Jimin. The star of the basketball team. The captain who led the university to victory. The girl everyone wanted to be friends with.

Or more than friends.

— Hey, Puppy.

I sighed, not looking up from the layout. — What do you want, Jimin?

— Nothing. Just stopped by to see you.

— I'm busy.

— I know. You look beautiful.

Wonyoung let out a giggle. I shot her a death glare.

— You don't have to stop what you're doing — Jimin continued, pulling up a chair and sitting next to me. — I'll just stay here real quiet.

— You don't know how to be quiet.

— I do. Watch.

She was silent.

For about ten seconds.

— You know what I noticed? — she said.

— That you can't stay quiet?

— That you chew on your pen cap when you're concentrating. It's really cute.

I immediately took the pen out of my mouth. — I don't chew.

— You were just doing it. The cap all chewed up.

— It's not chewed.

— You want me to prove it? Give me the pen.

— No.

She smiled, somehow victorious. — You're so easy to tease.

— And you're so annoying.

— Thanks. I try hard.

I went back to the layout, trying to ignore her presence. But it was impossible. She exuded an energy that filled the room, and no matter how hard I tried to focus on the texts and images, my eyes kept drifting to her. To the way she played with a paper clip, to the small tattoo on her wrist I'd never noticed before, to the way she bit her lower lip while observing the newsroom.

— Do you really like this? — she asked after a while.

— Like what?

— This. Journalism. Writing.

The question caught me off guard. Not because of the content, but because of the tone. It was a genuine tone. No teasing.

— I do — I answered, for some reason being honest. — I like telling stories. Giving voice to things that need to be said.

She nodded slowly. — That's cool. You're good at it.

— How do you know? Have you read anything of mine?

— I have.

I blinked. — You have?

— Of course. I read the article you did about the science fair. And the one about the curriculum reform. And the interview with the dean. You write well. You make the reader feel like they're there.

I didn't know what to say. None of my mental shields were prepared for a sincere compliment from her.

— Thanks — I murmured.

She smiled, but not her usual crooked smile. It was a smaller smile. Softer.

— I'm not just here to mess with you, you know?

— Really? Because you've been doing a great job at that.

She laughed. — That too. But I really like you, Minjeong. For real.

There was something in the way she said it. Something that made my stomach do a knot I couldn't identify.

— You don't even know me properly.

— Then let me get to know you.

— I don't...

— One coffee. Just that. Half an hour. If you don't like it, I'll stop.

— You'll stop what?

— Everything. Texting you. Showing up at the newsroom. Calling you Puppy.

— You're never going to stop calling me Puppy.

— Never — she admitted. — But I'll stop the rest.

I was silent, evaluating. She seemed sincere. Which was rare for someone like Yu Jimin, who lived in a constant state of performance.

— One coffee — I repeated.

— One coffee.

— And you stop carrying my tray.

— ...two coffees.

— Jimin.

— Fine, fine. I'll stop carrying your tray. Just one coffee.

I took a deep breath. — Saturday. 3 PM. The café near the library. If you're late, I'm leaving.

The smile she broke into could have lit up the whole gym. — Got it, Puppy. I won't be late.

— And don't call me Puppy.

— On Saturday. During the coffee. I won't call you Puppy. Afterward, I'll go back to calling you that.

— You're impossible.

— I am. — She stood up, and before I could react, she planted a quick kiss on the top of my head. — See you Saturday, Minjeong.

And she left the newsroom before I could throw something at her.

Wonyoung, Yeji, Miyeon, and Yizhuo were all staring at me with huge smiles.

— Not a word — I warned.

— But Minjeong... — Yizhuo started.

— Not. A. Word.

They exchanged meaningful glances with each other, but stayed silent.

My heart, however, was making enough noise for all of us.

---

Saturday, 2:55 PM

I arrived five minutes early. Because I always arrived early. It was a principle.

The café near the library was a cozy place, with exposed brick walls and a permanent smell of roasted beans. Perfect for studying, for reading, for having quiet conversations. It wasn't exactly the kind of place I imagined Yu Jimin frequenting. She seemed more like the type of person who drank energy drinks straight from the can while doing push-ups or something.

At exactly 3 PM, the door opened.

And there she was.

Not in her basketball uniform. Not in practice shorts and a tank top. But in jeans, a simple black t-shirt, and a leather jacket. Her hair was down, falling in waves over her shoulders. She was... different. Calmer. Still magnetic, but in a less overwhelming way.

— I'm here — she announced, sitting across from me. — And it's exactly 3 PM. See? I can be punctual.

— I'm surprised.

— Me too. I'm usually late for everything. But I didn't want to risk you leaving.

The waiter approached, and she ordered a cappuccino with cinnamon. I ordered an iced tea.

— Tea? — she found it strange. — I thought you were a coffee addict.

— Who told you that?

— Yizhuo.

— Of course. — I rolled my eyes. — I need to get new friends.

— Don't. They like you. And they like me too, which helps.

— Helps with what?

— Helps with everything. — She rested her elbows on the table. — So. Coffee. We're here. I promised I wouldn't call you Puppy, and I won't. For now.

— How noble.

— I am noble. I'm like a medieval knight. Except I play basketball.

— Female medieval knights didn't exist.

— They did. You just didn't study hard enough.

— I studied history for three semesters.

— Then you should have studied more.

Her smile was contagious, and I found myself fighting my own.

— Why do you like me? — I asked suddenly.

The question seemed to catch her off guard. She leaned back in her chair, her cappuccino arriving and being ignored for a moment.

— Do you want the honest answer or the rehearsed answer?

— Honest.

— Because you're different.

— Different how?

— Different from everyone I know. — She stirred her coffee, eyes fixed on the brown liquid. — People look at me and see the basketball player. The captain. The popular girl. They already come with a ready-made idea of who I am. You don't. You looked at me and saw an annoyance.

— Because you are an annoyance.

— But that's it. — She pointed at me with her spoon. — You're honest. You don't try to please me. You don't pretend to like me. You're you, all the time, and that's... refreshing.

— So you like me because I don't like you?

— You like me.

— I don't.

— You like me a little bit. — She tilted her head, eyes shining. — If you didn't, you wouldn't be here. You don't do anything you don't want to do, Minjeong. I've noticed that. So if you came, it's because some part of you is curious.

I hate when she's right.

— You're so conceited — I murmured.

— I am. But you already knew that.

The waiter brought my iced tea, and I took a sip, grateful for the pause in the conversation. But Jimin didn't take her eyes off me. It was an intense gaze, but not uncomfortable. It was like she was really seeing me, paying attention to every detail.

— You're different from what I expected — I admitted.

— Really?

— I thought you were just... a conceited athlete who likes attention.

— Oh, I'm that too — she laughed. — But I'm other things.

— Like what?

— Like someone who likes to draw. Who's afraid of heights. Who cries at dog movies. Who wanted to be a veterinarian as a kid before discovering basketball.

— A veterinarian?

— I like animals. — She smiled. — Especially puppies.

— Jimin.

— I didn't call you Puppy! I was talking about animals in general. You're the one feeling targeted.

— I'm not feeling targeted.

— You are. Your ear turned red.

My hand automatically went to my ear. She laughed, a loud laugh that made other people in the café look over.

— You're so easy, Minjeong. So, so easy.

— Stop it.

— I won't. It's too fun.

She kept laughing, and despite everything, despite all the defenses I had built, I felt my lips curve. Just a little. Just enough for her to notice.

— HEY! — She pointed at me, triumphant. — You smiled!

— I didn't smile.

— You did! I saw it! It was small, but it was a smile!

— It was a muscle spasm.

— It was a smile. The second one I've seen. And it was beautiful.

— You're making a scene.

— Because it's historic! Kim Minjeong smiled at me! I have to tell the girls. Ryujin is going to be shocked. She bet you'd never smile.

— You guys made bets?

— Of course. Aeri bet you'd punch me by the end of the semester. Yujin bet you'd throw coffee at me. Minnie was the only one who bet you'd give in.

— Give in to what?

— To going out with me. On a real date.

The air seemed to get thicker. I took another sip of tea.

— Is this a date?

— Do you want it to be?

— I asked first.

— I asked last.

— That doesn't make sense.

— It makes sense to me. — She leaned forward. — Do you want this to be a date, Kim Minjeong?

Her eyes were so close now. So dark. So intense.

— I... don't know — I answered, hating how my voice came out weaker.

She smiled, but it was a different smile. Softer. More patient.

— That's okay. I know. I'll keep trying until you do.

And, strangely, that didn't feel like a threat.

---

Four Weeks Later

Things changed after the coffee.

Not drastically. Not like in the movies, where everything transforms overnight. But small changes. Subtle. Like the fact that I no longer blocked the numbers she used to text me. Or how I didn't immediately roll my eyes when she showed up at the newsroom. Or how sometimes, just sometimes, I saved a piece of cake for her when I knew she'd come by after practice.

Not that I'd admit it.

— You're different — Yizhuo commented one afternoon, as we organized the files for the special edition.

— I'm not.

— You are. You were humming earlier.

— I wasn't humming.

— You were. You hummed "Can't Help Falling in Love." Three times.

I felt my face heat up. — It was playing on the radio.

— The radio that's turned off?

I hate Yizhuo.

But the fact was that something was changing. And maybe the biggest evidence of that was what happened that Thursday.

I was leaving the library, carrying a stack of books for my thesis research, when a guy from the business administration program stopped me. Kim Junseo. He was... okay. Good-looking, polite, had a friendly smile. We'd done some group projects together during the core curriculum.

— Minjeong! — He seemed surprised to see me. — Long time no see. How are you?

— Good. Busy, but good.

— Yeah, me too. I heard you're the newspaper editor now. Congratulations.

— Thanks.

There was a pause. He seemed to hesitate, and I knew what was coming before he even opened his mouth.

— So... I was thinking. I know you're busy, but I was wondering if... you'd like to grab coffee sometime? With me?

I opened my mouth to answer. I didn't know what I would say. Probably a polite rejection. But before any sound came out, an arm wrapped around my shoulders and I was pulled against a warm body.

— Hi, babe. Done with your research?

Yu Jimin.

She was there, appeared out of nowhere, her arm firmly around me. She looked at Junseo with a smile that was polite only on the surface.

— Who's your friend, Puppy?

— Jimin, what are you...

— Sorry — she addressed Junseo, without removing her arm from me. — Didn't mean to interrupt. It's just that she's already taken.

Junseo blinked, confused. — Taken?

— Yeah. She already has someone. Namely, me. We're... how do you say... a couple?

— WE ARE NOT A COUPLE — I exploded, slapping her arm. — Let go of me!

— Ow, ow, okay. — She let me go, but kept smiling. — But the part about her having someone is true. She just doesn't know it yet.

Junseo looked completely lost. He looked at me, then at Jimin, then back at me.

— I... I'm gonna go — he murmured, backing away. — See you around, Minjeong.

And he left almost running.

As soon as he disappeared, I turned to Jimin, furious.

— What was that?!

— Jealousy — she answered, simply.

— You have no right to be jealous! We're not dating!

— Not yet.

— Jimin!

— What? — She raised her hands in surrender. — The guy was hitting on you. I saw it. You were going to say no, I just sped up the process.

— And what if I wanted to say yes?

The question made her smile falter for a fraction of a second.

— Did you want to?

— That's not the point! The point is you can't just show up and pull me as if I were your property!

— You're not my property. — Her tone got serious. — You're not anyone's property. I just... I don't like seeing other people trying. That's all.

— "That's all"? You just scared off a guy who was just being polite!

— He wasn't "just being polite." He was asking you out. That's different.

— So what? Even if he was! You're not my girlfriend, Jimin! You can't do that!

She fell silent. A heavy silence, charged with something I couldn't identify.

— You're right — she said finally. — I can't. It was wrong. I'm sorry.

I blinked, surprised. It was the first time I'd seen her apologize for real.

— I'm really sorry — she repeated. — I got carried away.

— You got carried away?

— Yeah. I... — She ran her hand through her hair, a nervous gesture I'd never seen. — I like you a lot, Minjeong. A lot. And sometimes I act before I think. But that's not an excuse.

Something in my anger diminished. Just a little.

— Fine — I murmured. — Just... don't do it again.

— I won't. Unless you ask me to.

— I'll never ask.

— Never say never. — The smile returned, but it was smaller now. — Can I take you home? To make up for it?

— I take the bus.

— I know. Can I take you?

Sigh.

— Fine.

Her smile widened. — Really?

— Just the ride. Nothing else.

— Just the ride. I promise.

She kept her promise. She took me home, made small talk, didn't try anything beyond opening the car door for me.

But when I got home and looked at myself in the mirror, I realized I was smiling.

Alone.

In my room.

Like an idiot.

---

Six Weeks Later

The harassment continued. But "harassment" no longer seemed like the right word.

Jimin still carried my tray in the cafeteria (coffee promises aside). Still showed up at the newsroom. Still sent texts at random hours. Still called me Puppy.

But now I answered the texts. Now I saved a spot for her at the lunch table. Now, when she came to the newsroom, I didn't pretend she wasn't there.

People noticed.

— You two are weird — Ryujin commented one day, as we waited for a friendly match to start. Jimin had dragged me to watch, saying she needed "luck in the stands."

— We're not — I replied.

— You are. She's less... electric.

— Electric?

— Yeah. Before she was always running on high voltage. Now she's calmer. We even found it strange.

— She's still insufferable.

— But you don't find her as insufferable anymore, do you?

I didn't answer. Ryujin smiled as if something had been confirmed.

The game started, and I watched Jimin on the court. She was fascinating. The way she moved, how she anticipated plays, how she led the team with precise gestures and shouts of encouragement. Sweat running down her forehead, ponytail swinging, leg muscles tensing with every jump.

She made a three-point shot and, instead of celebrating with the team, looked straight at the stands. At me.

And winked.

I felt my ears burn.

— Did you see that? — Yeji, who was next to me, nudged Yizhuo. — She winked at Minjeong.

— Of course she did. She always does that.

— Always?! — I exclaimed. — She's done it other times?

— Every game since the championship — Yizhuo said as if it were obvious. — You never noticed?

No. I'd never noticed. Because I'd never been to a game before. This was the first one.

And suddenly, I realized I wanted to go to more.

---

Eight Weeks Later

It was on a rainy Friday that everything changed.

I was at the newsroom late, finishing the week's edition. Rain pounded against the windows, and the campus was practically empty. Yeji had gone home early. Yizhuo was sick. Wonyoung and Miyeon had exams to study for. Sunoo, my faithful cameraman, had a family commitment.

I was alone.

Or I was, until the door opened and Yu Jimin walked in, soaked from head to toe.

— Jimin! What are you doing here?

— I saw the light on — she explained, taking off her wet jacket. — Thought it might be you. And it was raining. I had an umbrella, but I gave it to a freshman who didn't have one.

— You swam here?

— Basically. — She laughed, shaking her wet hair like a dog. — Can I stay until the rain stops?

— You're drenched. You're going to catch a cold.

— Worth it.

— It's not. Sit down.

I pulled a chair near the heater and made her sit. Then I grabbed my spare shirt from my backpack — I always had one, for emergencies — and handed it to her.

— Put this on. It's cold.

— You're giving me your shirt? — She seemed genuinely surprised. — This is a big step in our relationship, Puppy.

— It's not a relationship. It's hypothermia prevention.

— It's a relationship.

But she put on the shirt. My shirt. On her, it was a little tight in the shoulders, but it fit. And something about seeing her wearing my clothes made my stomach do that knot again.

— What are you doing here so late? — she asked.

— Closing the edition. You?

— Extra practice. I want to improve my long-distance shot.

— Your shot is already good.

— You think so? — She seemed surprised. — You paid attention?

— It's hard not to. You make three-pointers like it's easy.

— You went to other games?

Silence.

— Minjeong... did you go to other games?

— Maybe — I admitted. — A few.

The smile she broke into was different. Less teasing. More genuine.

— You went to watch me play.

— I went to watch the team play.

— You went to watch me. — She leaned forward. — Admit it. Admit that you don't find me so annoying anymore.

— You're annoying. Very annoying.

— But?

— But what?

— There's always a "but."

The rain continued outside. The heater hummed softly. The newsroom light created gentle shadows on her face.

— But... — I started, and stopped. Because the words were stuck in my throat. Because admitting anything was opening a door I'd spent weeks keeping closed.

She waited. Patient. For the first time, completely patient.

— But you're less annoying than you were before — I concluded, weakly.

— I'll take it — she said. — For now.

We were silent for a while. A comfortable silence, something I never imagined could exist between us.

— You know what I like most about you? — she asked suddenly.

— What?

— That you're honest. Even when you're lying to yourself, you're honest.

— That doesn't make sense.

— It does to me. — She turned her face to look at me. — You're lying to yourself about not liking me. But you're so bad at it that it's obvious.

— I'm not lying.

— You are. — She stood up, getting closer. — But that's okay. I've lied to myself about a lot of things too.

— Like what?

— Like not caring what others think. Like not being afraid to fail. Like not feeling lonely sometimes, even surrounded by people.

The vulnerability in the confession hit me like a punch.

— Jimin...

— I'm good at seeming confident — she continued. — At being the star of the team, the captain, the girl everyone knows. But sometimes it's exhausting. Sometimes I just want to be the Yu Jimin who likes to draw and cries at dog movies.

— And who's afraid of heights — I completed.

— And who's afraid of heights. — She smiled. — You remembered.

— Of course I remembered.

— Why?

Another direct question. She was a specialist at those.

— Because... — I swallowed hard. — Because I pay attention. To you.

Her eyes lit up. — You pay attention to me?

— Sometimes.

— How often?

— Jimin...

— Every hour? Every day? Every time I show up?

— You're impossible.

— And you didn't answer.

The rain seemed to have let up outside, but I barely noticed. All my attention was on her. On her dark eyes. On her contained smile. On her presence filling the entire newsroom.

— Every day — I admitted, finally. — I pay attention to you every day.

Her smile opened up. But it wasn't the usual crooked smile. It was a full, radiant smile that made her look younger and more vulnerable.

— Does that mean you like me?

— It means I don't hate you anymore.

— Which is already progress. — She took one more step closer. — Can I ask you something?

— It depends on the thing.

— Can I kiss you?

The air vanished from my lungs.

— Jimin...

— Just a kiss. — Her voice was lower now, huskier. — If you don't like it, I'll stop. I promise. For real this time.

— You promised you'd stop if I didn't like the coffee.

— I lied.

— I know you lied.

— But now it's true. — She was so close I could feel the heat from her body. — One kiss. Just one. And if you tell me to stop, I'll stop. Forever.

My heart was beating so hard I was sure she could hear it.

— You're... — I started.

— Annoying? Conceited? Stuck up?

— All of that. And more.

— But?

There she was again. The "but."

— But... — My voice was almost a whisper. — ...maybe I want the kiss.

Her eyes widened for a fraction of a second. As if she hadn't really expected me to say that.

— Really?

— Don't make me repeat it.

She laughed softly. Raised her hand, touched my face with surprisingly gentle fingers. I could smell the rain on her, mixed with something I'd learned to associate exclusively with Yu Jimin.

— Can I really? — she asked again, as if she needed confirmation.

Instead of answering, I leaned forward.

The kiss was soft. Initially. Her lips meeting mine with a gentleness I didn't know she possessed. Her fingers tangled in my hair, and she pulled me a little closer. I felt her smile against my lips, and then the kiss deepened, becoming something more intense, more urgent. Her hands slid down to my waist, and I found myself gripping her shirt (my shirt, actually) as if I needed support to keep from falling.

When we pulled apart, we were breathless.

— That... — she started, her eyes still closed.

— Was a kiss — I completed.

— Was the best kiss of my life.

— You're exaggerating.

— I'm not. — She opened her eyes, and there was something vulnerable in them. — Want another?

— You promised "just one."

— I also promised to stop carrying your tray. And your phone number. And...

— You're terrible.

— I am. — She smiled. — But you like me.

— ...I do.

The word hung in the air between us. Simple. Definitive. True.

— You do? — she repeated, as if testing the sound.

— I do. Don't make me say it again.

— I'll make you say it every day. — She pressed her forehead against mine. — Puppy.

— I hate that nickname.

— You hate it?

— ...I hate it a little less now.

She laughed, and the sound reverberated through the empty newsroom, mixing with the distant noise of the rain.

— Does that mean you'll go out with me for real? — she asked.

— It means we can talk about it tomorrow.

— Tomorrow?

— You're soaked. You need a hot shower. And food.

— You're worried about me?

— Don't get used to it.

— Too late. I already have. — She gave me a quick peck. — Tomorrow, then. Coffee. 3 PM. Same place.

— You're not going to ask me? You're just going to tell me?

— Would you prefer that I ask?

— I would.

She pulled back a little, made an exaggerated bow, and said, with all the solemnity in the world:

— Kim Minjeong, editor-in-chief of the University Horizon, owner of the prettiest eyes on campus and the most tested patience in history, will you accept having coffee with me tomorrow at 3 PM at the café near the library?

— I accept — I replied, and the smile that escaped me was impossible to contain. — But only if you don't call me Puppy.

— What can I call you?

— You can call me Minjeong.

— And if I want to call you girlfriend?

— Then you're moving too fast.

— Too fast? I've been chasing you for months. That's not fast. That's persistence.

I shook my head, but couldn't hide the laugh. — You're impossible, Yu Jimin.

— I am. But you like me.

— Unfortunately.

— Fortunately — she corrected. — Very fortunately.

The rain had completely stopped now. The night's silence enveloped the campus, and in the University Horizon newsroom, two girls looked at each other as if the world had just begun.

— Tomorrow — Jimin repeated.

— Tomorrow — I confirmed.

She grabbed her still-damp jacket and headed for the door, but stopped before leaving.

— Hey, Minjeong?

— What?

— Thank you.

— For what?

— For giving me a chance. — Her smile was small, but genuine. — I know I was persistent. And annoying. And I probably did things that drove you crazy. But thank you for not blocking me completely.

— I blocked your numbers.

— And I got new ones.

— I know. — I smiled. — But you would've gotten new ones anyway.

— I would. — She laughed. — I really would.

And then, before I could say anything else, she left. But her perfume stayed. And her warmth. And the feeling of the kiss still pulsing on my lips.

I grabbed my phone and sent a message to Yizhuo:

"You told her about the horror movies?"

The answer came in seconds:

"I did. And about the coffee. And about the pen. And about your thing for conceited athletes (just kidding, she figured that one out on her own)."

"I'm going to kill you tomorrow."

"You love me. And you love her too. You just won't admit it. 😘"

"..."

"Are you going to admit it?"

"I'm going to sleep. Good night."

"GOOD NIGHT FUTURE GIRLFRIEND OF THE BASKETBALL TEAM CAPTAIN 🏀❤️"

I turned off my phone with a sigh.

But I was smiling.

And, for the first time in months, the smile wasn't from irritation.

It was from anticipation.

---

Epilogue - One Month Later

Profile of the National University Basketball Team
By Kim Minjeong, University Horizon

Captain Yu Jimin, 21, made history once again by leading the National University team to victory in the Intercollegiate Tournament. With 28 points scored in the final, she demonstrated not only technical skill, but a leadership that inspires her teammates on and off the court.

"She's intense," comments shooting guard Shin Ryujin. "On the court, she's pure fire. Off the court... well, off the court she's also intense, just in a different way. Especially when it comes to a certain blonde reporter."

When asked about the comment, Jimin just smiles with that characteristic corner smile of hers.

"She knows what she's talking about," says the captain. "But some things we keep for our personal life, isn't that right, Puppy?"

No, it's not.

And yes, I still hate that nickname.

But maybe, just maybe, I hate it a little less now.

---

THE END

---

Author's note: the above article was never published. Minjeong deleted it immediately after Jimin read it over her shoulder and laughed so hard she almost fell out of her chair. In its place, a perfectly professional piece about the tournament ran, with no mentions of nicknames or annoying smiles.

But the original version stayed saved on Minjeong's computer. In a folder called "Things that make me happy."

Alongside photos from games, notes that Jimin still insists on leaving on her desk, and a screenshot of the first text message she answered voluntarily.

"Good morning. Yes, I had breakfast. No, you don't need to know what I ate."

Jimin replied with seventeen heart emojis.

Minjeong never admitted it, but she smiled.