Work Text:
1
You have run over the scenarios far too many times in your head. In fact, considering you have little else to do but to play mind-numbing mobile games and browse the internet in the past ten days, your brain has conjured the most ideal but least likely scenario in terrifying detail.
You decide that Jaehee will be there to greet you at the door. She will be wearing something other than her standard business suit, but also professional and modest; you doubt she is the ball gown type. Warm, autumn tones. Brown and yellow and white. Maybe she will accessorize, something like a brooch or a statement necklace, amber to match her eyes.
You can’t decide if she will be wearing her glasses. She confided in you—in a phone call sometime in the sixth or seventh day, you lost track—that she doesn’t really need glasses and she’s only wearing them because Jumin wants her to. Something about his womanizing father. You remember you had to bite back a compliment on how she looks amazing despite Jumin’s efforts to make her less desirable, because that is way too creepy to say when you barely know each other.
You decide that she will have two, maybe three seconds of pause before she recognizes you without you having to introduce yourself first, then her face will bloom into a brilliant smile. She will go for a handshake, but you hug her first, and she hugs you back. You two will pull back a little, arms still around each other, then her eyes will flit from your eyes to your lips and back again, and that is permission enough for you to press a kiss to her lips.
But that is not what happens.
What happens is Yoosung greets you at the door, adorable and bubbly like he always is. Then Zen, dressed like he’s an aristocratic boyband vocalist. Then Jumin, somehow both pushy and polite, and you think that in another world where he isn’t a gigantic man-baby you might let him order you around with that voice of his, except he is a gigantic man-baby with absolutely no social skills, and please please please someone save you already—
“One—two—mic test.”
And just like that, you’re rescued. You look at your savior, standing on the stage with a smile more mischievous than you thought her to be capable of, and your mouth goes dry at how accurate your imagination was. Jaehee is dressed in a brown dress with a white collar, a softer brown cardigan layered on top. At her throat glints an arrangement of amber stones, twinkling under the ballroom’s lights. She forgoes her glasses and when you two are close enough to touch you don’t, opting to smile at each other instead, and you have a feeling you’re not the only one holding back.
But then again, that might be wishful thinking on your part.
2
Jaehee talks about how much she wanted to see you, how she was so excited. Your heart stutters to a halt when she says the word ‘love’, and a lump rises to your throat when she says ‘friendship’. You force out a chuckle when she mentions that she knows Jumin will try to recruit you.
Then she mentions the proposal. Not the Proposal, with capital P, because you just spent about five minutes listening to how precious your friendship is to her and also because what the hell, you only know each other for eleven days and this is the first time you meet face to face, but it is an important proposal nonetheless.
Jaehee takes your hand, turns it face up. There’s no shiver crawling up your spine, no goosebumps, and you’re surprised at how normal this feels. Like your hand has always belonged in hers, and it’s this thought that makes your chest ache.
She presses a key to the palm of your hand. The key is warm, like she has been holding to it for a while. She asks you to be her partner.
It’s not like you never saw it coming. Her actions in the past couple of days telegraphed her intentions loud and clear, and you played quite a big role in pushing her towards that direction. Sure, you’re taken aback by how she already has a key to the building that soon will be her café, but the fact of the matter is that this is part of one of the many scenarios you have run through in your mind, and you already know how to answer.
So it surprises the both of you when you take the key, put it in her hand, push her fingers closed around it, and say, “No.”
3
Jaehee Kang: I did it.
Jaehee Kang: It took around five hours and way too much aluminum foil.
Princess Unicorn: omg
Princess Unicorn: pics now
Jaehee Kang: Come tomorrow and you’ll see.
You stick out your tongue at your phone. Jaehee’s still pissed, obviously, because you canceled your promise to go with her last minute to take your suddenly ill cat to the vet. Two and a half years working under Jumin Han had repressed her mean streak, and ever since she broke free of his demonic claws you begin seeing it more frequently, though rarely directed at you. Except for now. Understandable, considering she hates cats and you ditched her for one.
You know she’s not really mad at you, though, because she still says come tomorrow.
In a last-ditch attempt, because you’re really curious, you video call her. She picks up the call with the camera turned off, and you throw her a rude hand gesture before hanging up.
She sends you that sticker of her smiling face surrounded by cartoon flowers on the messenger.
The next day, you turn up just after sunrise in front of the now-familiar double blue doors with a key in your hand. In fact, it’s the very same key you refused that night at the party, which Jaehee gifted you anyway.
“You’re always welcome there,” she said, with an earnest smile.
You unlock the doors and step in, turning on the lights. The wooden floor gleams, clearly just washed last night. Actually, every surface is spotless. Jaehee and her two baristas must have worked their ass off all night.
You start to climb up the stairs to the apartment on the second floor. Halfway up, you come face-to-face with Jaehee, who has to abruptly stop before she sends the both of you tumbling down the stairs.
“You’re early,” she says, cutting past you to go down to the café floor.
You sigh and follow her. “Thought I’d help you out on your grand opening day.”
“Really,” she says. “You didn’t seem to be too keen on doing that last year.”
You turn away—she might as well have slapped you—and miss the flicker of regret on her face. “Take a seat,” you tell her while moving behind the counter, “and shut up.” You stand in front of the complicated espresso machine, hesitant and quite frankly intimidated by its many buttons and levers, before you move to take the French press instead. You don’t know how to even get hot water from the machine, so you take a saucepan and boil some water. You measure four tablespoons of the special coffee you brought today as an apologetic-slash-congratulatory gift. As you work on brewing the coffee, you try to not let the silence hang so heavily, though you make no effort to say anything.
When it’s done, you go to the table by the window where Jaehee sits and you put a cup in front of her, cradling your own between your palms. She pushes her long hair away from her face and tucks it behind her ear, and you can’t help but stare. It becomes her, wavy and cascading down to the middle of her back, the color lighter than her natural dark brown but not so much that it looks jarring.
She takes a sip and her whole posture relaxes, the stiff edges of her shoulders melting away. “Thank you,” she says. “Sit with me?”
You comply, taking the seat across her. “Feel better now?”
“Yes. I’m sorry.”
You wave dismissively. “I’ve learned to ignore anything you say before your morning coffee.”
She chuckles. “It’s still not fair of me to say that. You have your reasons, and I respect that, and your friendship has been more than everything I could ask of you.”
You avoid meeting her eyes. When she said reasons, she meant your excuses about how you have your own job and that you have no business sense and whatever else you said back then. Of course, she doesn’t know that you’re just a coward. You shrug before reaching forward—your mind thinking, abort abort—and taking a tendril of her hair between your fingers. “This looks good on you,” you say.
This time, she’s the one who looks away, a blush forming on her cheeks. “Does it?”
“Yes. It suits you.”
“I nearly died of boredom when waiting for the color to set,” she says, still not pulling away.
You twirl the hair around your index finger. “Lies,” you drawl. “You were totally reading Jalapeno fanfictions the whole time.”
4
It’s opening night at Zen’s latest musical and the whole RFA crew is supposed to be there, except there’s only you and Jaehee. Jumin has to meet with his father and his father’s girlfriend of the week, Seven is still holed up in his house chasing the mystery hacker, Yoosung overslept because he spent thirty-six hours playing LOLOL, and no one has any idea where V even is. You’re not complaining. Without the boys around, you get to unleash your inner fangirl, though you have a difficulty focusing on Zen’s naked torso with Jaehee being positively adorable next to you. Does she have no idea what her gasps do to you?
After, you two meet him backstage with a bouquet, and as Jaehee gushes at how Zen’s acting was so very convincing especially when his character was contemplating suicide, you excuse yourself to go to the restroom. You're fixing your make-up when Jaehee slams the door open, grabs your hand, and drags you away.
“Jaehee,” you say, half-shouting over the noise of the backstage. “What’s wrong? Are you okay?”
She doesn’t turn around. Doesn’t stop walking. Doesn’t let go of your hand. She just shakes her head and you know she means not here.
She drags you to the parking area, only releasing you in front of the driver’s side door of your car before hurrying to get on from the passenger’s side. You get in, but you don’t strap on the seat belt or start the car. Neither does Jaehee, who is now intently fiddling with the hem of her coat sleeve. She looks distressed, but there’s something in her expression that you can’t quite pinpoint. You wait.
Sometime later, she looks up and towards you. She clears her throat. “Zen asked me out.” It is then that you realize what it was you did not recognize in her expression. Jaehee isn’t distressed. She’s flustered, and you’re willing to bet that if you flick the light on you’d see color high on her cheeks.
You shuffle through an array of possible responses before giving in and asking her what you desperately want to know. “What did you say?”
“I asked him why.”
“And?”
“He told me he’s had a crush on me ever since I stayed at his place to take care of him when he broke his leg. But he’s never had the courage to ask me out until recently.”
“Recently?” You feel like your brain has short-circuited, only capable of spitting out one-word responses.
“Yes. He said you told him I wasn’t seeing anyone, and—did you know he was going to ask me out?”
You try to remember when exactly you said that to Zen, until you recall the conversation you had with him when he dropped off the ticket to his musical.
“How are you? How’s Jaehee?”
“I’m good. Jaehee’s married to her job, as usual.”
It was in no way a declaration that Jaehee is single and ready to mingle, but apparently Zen took it as such and the damage is done. “I didn’t.”
Jaehee nods, believing you as she always does. “I think he sensed that I was panicking, because he told me to think about it, thanks for the flowers, and that he had to go change and debrief.”
And here you are now.
You don’t know what to say, so you put on your seat belt. Jaehee follows suit, and when she’s done you start the car and drive back towards her place.
“Are you angry?” Jaehee asks.
“What? No.” Yes.
She believes you, again. “What should I do?”
You are, in fact, very angry. Not at her or Zen, but at yourself, because as Jaehee’s best friend you know exactly what to do. You don’t like it, but what you like and what will make Jaehee happy are sometimes very different things. “Why are you panicking? We established a long time ago that Zen is everything you could ever want from a guy.”
“I know we did, but it was hypothetical.”
“Hypothetically, and I know I’m biased what with being your best friend, you’re everything someone could ever want in a woman.” You grip the steering wheel tight, your eyes set on the road. You hope she can’t tell that this time you’re the one who’s blushing.
“I—but—I mean—you’re completely biased.”
“Totally,” you agree. “What I mean is,” and here you pause, hating every inch of yourself, “you two are good for each other.”
And you mean it. They are. It’s not like you don’t notice how Jaehee becomes more animated when she talks about Zen, or how her eyes practically undress him whenever he walks into the room, or how her breath hitches indecently when he really is undressed, which happens more often than you like.
Meanwhile, Zen is a loyal friend who is kind and thoughtful. He’s a bit narcissistic sometimes, but you suspect that’s because he’s secretly insecure. He cares about Jaehee; when she was still working for Jumin, Zen was your ally in supporting her. Is still your ally, in fact. When you can’t make time to check up on her and make sure she eats and sleeps, he would volunteer.
You drop Jaehee off at her place, and when you get home you see a new message on your phone.
We’re going to Lotte World this Sunday. Help me pick what to wear?
You reply with an affirmative, then you spend all night slaying monsters on LOLOL.
5
You spend Saturday night at Jaehee’s place, an all-out girly sleepover. You two watch a rom-com—not Zen’s DVD, because that would be too weird—as you help her pick an outfit for her date and paint her nails matte burgundy with gold accents.
Jaehee huffs in annoyance. “This film is dumb.” You stay quiet because you’re too busy free-handing gold swirls on her ring finger, so she continues. “He’s totally in love with her, and she’s in love with him, and yet he’s encouraging her to date that other guy? Honestly, they’re both dumb.”
It’s lucky that you have very steady hands, otherwise you would ruin her ring finger right then and there. You set aside the brush. “Well, you can only say that because they’re the ones on the DVD cover.”
She rolls her eyes.
“If you’re so good at this, how come you never knew that Zen had feelings for you?”
“That’s not the same thing.”
You bite your lip before saying, cautiously, “Let’s say, hypothetically, Zen never asks you out. Instead, I ask Zen out and he asks for your advice. What would you do?”
Jaehee narrows her eyes suspiciously and says, “That is a trick question and I refuse to answer that. Now finish my pinky so I can do your nails.”
Sunday night, Jaehee calls you.
“I’m back home,” she says, and you can hear the lethargy seeping into her voice.
It’s pure masochism and morbid curiosity that makes you ask her, “How was it?”
There’s a long pause, like she’s trying to decide what to say. Meanwhile, you’re still trying to decide if you want the date to be good or bad. “It was good,” Jaehee says eventually.
Which doesn’t mean that it’s great, and there’s something else. “Go on,” you say.
“He’s a bit of an adrenaline junkie—”
“Totally did not see that coming,” you mutter under your breath, but Jaehee hears it anyway and laughs.
“Yes, I should have known better. But he’s very considerate and he even took me on the Ferris wheel.” She pauses. “Where he kissed me.”
“A bit fast,” you say, which is the understatement of the century, “but okay. Was it good?”
Quickly, Jaehee says, “It was just a peck. Very proper and chaste.”
“That’s it?”
“That’s it.”
“You didn’t kiss him back?”
Jaehee hums. “That didn’t occur to me. Did I have to?”
You can’t help but let out a bark of laugh. “Of course not. You gotta make him earn it.”
+1
You’re just starting to clean up after putting the brownies in the oven when you hear your front door opening and closing. There’s only one person other than you who has a key to your apartment, so you call out, “Happy birthday!”
“Thanks!” you hear Jaehee answer. “Is that chocolate I smell?” she asks from the kitchen doorway.
“Brownies,” you gesture to the oven without turning around, hands busy scrubbing the mixing bowl. “You’re here early. Didn’t you say you have a date with Zen until later this afternoon?”
“We broke up.”
You set down the mixing bowl, wipe your foamy hand on your pants, and turn around to face her. “I’m so sorry to hear that.”
Jaehee shrugs. She is oddly calm and tearless for someone who just broke up. “Don’t be. We agreed it was for the best. He made some really good points.”
“Like what?”
Jaehee has her jaw set and eyes blazing as she takes one step towards you. “Like for example, I text and call and meet you more often than him.”
Another step.
“Every time I get home from a date with him I would text him thank you and good night, then have a two-hour phone call with you.”
Step.
“Today, on my birthday, he as the boyfriend got the lunch date and you got the dinner and sleepover.”
Step.
“We haven’t even slept in the same bed, much less have sex.”
She’s now crowding your space, and she says softly, with a furious blush, “He’s not bad at kissing, but it was obligatory at best and a chore at worst.”
“Really?” you ask, feeling like your heart could leap out of your throat anytime now. Your mouth feels very, very dry and you lick your lips nervously.
Jaehee doesn’t answer. Her eyes flit to your lips, entranced. Then she snaps out of it, jerking her line of sight back up to your eyes, her face becoming even redder than before.
That is permission enough for you to press a kiss to her lips.
It’s far from the best kiss ever, but as far as first kisses go, it’s not bad either. Her lips are dry, courtesy to the winter air outside, but you soon forget about the dryness and practically everything else because she catches your lower lip between her own lips and sucks gently. A gasp escapes your mouth and you can feel her smile, and that is so unfair so you put one hand on the small of her back and slide the one on her cheek to the back of her neck, tugging lightly at her locks. This time, it’s her who moans a little and you try your hardest to keep it tender and relatively chaste, though already in your mind you think of letting your hands roam freely and your tongue slip into her mouth.
You correct yourself in your mind. This kiss is slowly inching towards the top of your list.
You only part when you hear the oven timer go off. You take out the brownies and place them on the counter.
“You know,” you say, grinning so wide it hurts your cheeks, “we have to wait for it to chill on the counter before we can eat it.”
Jaehee smiles and places her arms around your waist. “Is that so?”
“Yes, and I was thinking maybe we could make out to pass the time.”
She tilts her head, considering. “My best friend told me once that you have to make them earn it.”
“Have I earned it, then?”
And you see it again, that mischievous smile that you first saw when she unleashed a horde of gold-diggers on Jumin during last year’s RFA party. “I don’t have sufficient data to conclude yet. Maybe another demonstration could help me make up my mind.”
“Gladly.”