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“If you keep staring at how the angle is supposed to go instead of steadying your hand, you’re never going to get the eyeliner straight,” Minju said, leaning against the doorframe.
Yunah jumped, nearly smudging the thin black line she’d been meticulously drawing for five minutes. She glared at the reflection of her friend in the glass, though a smirk softened the glare.
“I’m just fixing the wing that the makeup artist did on me! And my hand is not shaking,” Yunah replied, finally stepping back to admire her work. She looked effortless, which was the point. “Anyway, have you come to just admire me? I know I look good, but to pull you? Oh, my.”
Minju didn't answer immediately. She just watched Yunah with a quiet, unreadable expression, her head tilted slightly to the side.
It was a look Yunah wasn’t used to. Usually, people were either flustered by her or trying desperately to impress her. Minju, however, seemed to be solving a puzzle.
“I’m just wondering when you’re going to stop pretending you’re not nervous,” Minju said, her voice light but steady. She pushed off the doorframe and stepped into the room, closing the door, her movements fluid and unhurried. “What’s got you tense?”
Yunah turned around and paused, her hand still hovering near her cheek. She laughed, a practiced sound of amusement. “Nervous? Minju, look at me. I’m the one who does the making-nervous. You, on the other hand, have probably been hovering there for whoever knows how long.”
Minju didn’t take the bait.
Minju stopped walking just a few inches from Yunah, well within the invisible boundary of her personal space. She didn't touch her, but she leaned in, her eyes scanning Yunah’s face with a clinical sort of curiosity.
“You’re doing that thing again. The thing where you use a joke to redirect the conversation because you don’t know how to handle a direct question.” Minju said with a small smile.
“You’re being weirdly intense,” Yunah managed, attempting a small, dismissive laugh. “It’s almost creepy. Stop it.”
Minju didn’t recoil. “Creepy?” she let out a soft, humming sound of amusement and finally stepped back. “I’m just checking up on you, the girls are currently cham cham cham with each other to pass the time.”
Yunah exhaled a sharp breath and immediately began fussing with her makeup bag, pretending to search for a lipstick she knew was already in her pocket. Her heart was drumming a frantic rhythm against her ribs, a sensation she usually only felt during high-stakes performances.
“Are you feeling okay?” Yunah asked, her voice slightly higher than usual. “You’re usually doing your Pokémon impressions to get your nerves out.”
“My nerves are okay,” Minju replied. Her voice was a soft contrast to the sterile environment of the waiting room, but there was a newfound weight to it. “I’ve just been thinking.”
Yunah stopped in her tracks and smirked as if a light bulb had just been lit above her head. “Thinking about what?”
It was a classic tell.
Yunah’s always had this sense in telling that someone has a crush, especially if it’s obviously on her. There were pauses in their past conversations that lasted a second too long, and a tendency for Minju to look away quickly whenever Yunah caught her eye.
Normally, this was where Minju would stammer or suddenly find a great deal of interest in the pattern of the floor tiles. Right now, Minju locked eyes with her. She didn't blink. The sudden intensity of the gaze felt like a physical touch, sending an unexpected shiver down Yunah's spine.
Yunah had no idea Minju was about to play in her face.
“You’re asking like you already know the answer, Yunah,” Minju said. She let her gaze wander slowly over Yunah’s face, as if she were reading a book whose ending she already knew.
Yunah felt a flicker of hesitation.
She felt exposed.
She tried to pivot back to her usual playful cadence, shifting her weight to lean further into Minju’s space.
“Maybe I just want to hear it out loud,” Yunah countered, though her voice lacked its usual steadiness. “And right now, I want to know why you’re suddenly acting like you’ve got a secret.”
Minju didn’t recoil. In fact, she leaned in too, closing the gap until Yunah could smell the faint, clean scent of hair products and something like sugar. Minju’s eyes searched hers, not with the longing Yunah had expected, but with a curious, experimental intensity.
“A secret?” Minju whispered, the sound barely reaching Yunah’s ears but echoing loudly in the small space. “Maybe I’m just tired of playing the part you’ve written for me.”
Yunah blinked, her mind trying to categorize this shift. But as Minju remained within her personal bubble, refusing to retreat, Yunah realized Minju had closed the door and was suddenly feeling warm all over her body, with her thoughts racing as to why she was really here. She felt a sudden, frantic urge to lean back and away from Minju, yet her muscles seemed to have forgotten how to move.
“I don’t know what part you mean,” Yunah managed, though it sounded more like a question than a statement.
Minju’s gaze dropped to Yunah’s lips for a fraction of a second, a move so subtle it was almost invisible, yet it hit Yunah like a physical blow. “The shy one. The one who gets flustered when you tease her. It’s a useful mask, don't you think?”
The air in the waiting room suddenly felt too thick to breathe.
For years, Yunah had always been the one in control, always the one delivering the punchline or the flirtatious nudge. Now, looking into Minju’s steady, unblinking eyes, Yunah realized there were levels to her wanting more than just that, just 10 minutes before they faced a crowd.
"What?–" Yunah whispered, her voice betraying a tremor she couldn't suppress. "Since when do you talk like this?"
Minju didn't pull away. She tilted her head slightly, a small, almost predatory smile touching her lips. "Since I realized that you love it when I do. You love the chase, Yunah. But you've never actually been chased, have you?”
The observation hit home with a precision that left Yunah reeling.
It was true.
Yunah thrived on the power dynamic of being the pursuer, especially when giving her affection to her fans. But to be on the receiving end of this intensity. To be the one whose breath was hitched and whose skin was tingling: it was a foreign, terrifying, and exhilarating sensation.
Yunah tried to find a witty retort, a way to flip the script and reclaim her territory, but her brain was a chaotic blur of static.
Minju’s hand moved, not in a rush, but with a deliberate slowness that forced Yunah to track every millimeter of the movement. Her fingers brushed a stray lock of hair away from Yunah’s forehead. Yunah shivered, her back pressing harder into the edge of the table, suddenly aware of how small the room had become.
“You’re thinking,” Minju murmured, her voice dropping into a register that felt like a secret shared between them. “I can see the gears turning. You’re trying to figure out what to say to get me feeling shy or to back off.”
Yunah let out a shaky laugh, finally finding a sliver of her usual bravado. “You’re incredibly smug for someone who usually just nods and scoffs at my jokes.”
“I was being polite,” Minju replied, her eyes dancing with a mischief that Yunah had never seen before. “But politeness is boring. And you, Yunah, are never boring.”
Minju’s fingers trailed slowly down the side of Yunah’s face, a ghost of a touch that left the skin humming. Yunah felt her resolve crumbling, the carefully constructed walls of her confidence dissolving into a puddle of sheer, unadulterated nerves.
"Stop it," Yunah whispered, though there was no conviction in her voice. In fact, she sounded almost like she was pleading.
"Stop what?" Minju asked, her voice velvet with allure. She leaned in just an inch more, her breath warm against Yunah’s cheek. "The truth? Or the fact that you've completely forgotten what you were going to say to me?"
Yunah groaned, dropping her head to face away from her. "You're so– Where did this even come from? Who taught you how to do this? Why are you doing this to me now?"
Minju chuckled, a soft sound that vibrated in the small space between them. She mirrored Yunah’s posture, but leaning towards where she was facing.
“Observation,” Minju answered simply. “I’ve spent a lot of time watching you, Yunah. You’re very loud, very sure of yourself, and you love it when people react to you. But you’re surprisingly fragile when someone actually talks back.”
Yunah shifted, her heart still racing. She wanted to be annoyed, she should be annoyed, but the feeling of being truly seen was an intoxicating drug. She turned her head, finding Minju still staring at her with that newfound, playful intensity.
“You’re not allowed to be this smug,” Yunah muttered, though she didn't move away. “It doesn't suit you. You're supposed to be the quiet, reliable one.”
“The quiet, reliable one,” Minju repeated, her voice carrying a hint of amusement. She finally shifted, her body too close that even breathing too hard that they would touch. “See, that’s the problem. You’ve spent so long deciding who I am to you that you stopped paying attention to who I actually am.”
Yunah tried to regain her footing, attempting a scoff that came out sounding more like a soft gasp. “I pay attention. I know everything about you. You like your tea with too much honey, you always organize your bag the same way, and you’re a sucker for those tiny, overpriced Totoro accessories.”
“Oh, yeah?” Minju countered, her gaze dropping to Yunah’s lips and then snapping back up to her eyes with a precision that felt like a physical touch.
“You completely missed the fact that I’ve been waiting for you to stop talking long enough to actually kiss me.”
The silence that followed was deafening.
Yunah’s mouth opened, then closed.
The conversation had been flipped so violently that she felt dizzy.
In that moment, the screams of their audience had died down to the screaming that occurred in Yunah’s head. It was just the two of them in that empty room with clutters of clothes and makeup, the breathing of Minju near her and the beating of Yunah’s heart. Those 10 minutes felt like forever right there.
Yunah didn’t move.
She couldn't.
For a second, the "confident Yunah" persona tried to stage a comeback, prompting her to say something like Since when are you so bold? But the words died in her throat. The sheer audacity of Minju’s confession was more effective than any flirtation Yunah had ever deployed.
Minju didn't push for an immediate answer.
She leaned in just a fraction more, her expression shifting from playful to something profoundly sincere. The predatory edge had softened into a warmth that felt honest and terrifyingly intimate.
"You're staring," Minju whispered, a tiny, knowing smile playing on her lips.
"I'm processing," Yunah managed to breathe out, though it sounded more like a gasp. "Processing the fact that you're probably just playing me."
"Not playing you," Minju corrected softly. "Just waiting for you to catch up."
Yunah felt the sudden, frantic urge to laugh, to break the tension with a joke and slide back into the safety of their established roles, but under the gaze of Minju’s intense gaze: it felt like she was being cast under a spell.
“Catch up to what?” Yunah asked, her voice barely a thread. “The part where you decided to stop being the quiet one and suddenly dismantle my entire personality in ten minutes before getting on stage?”
Minju’s gaze didn't waver. “You didn't actually think I’d be that predictable with my calm face, Yunah? Predictability is boring. I thought you’d appreciate the surprise.”
The honesty of it was the final blow to Yunah’s defenses. She didn't have a witty comeback. She was just a girl staring at a friend who had suddenly become a stranger and someone far more interesting than the version she had invented.
Yunah let out a breath she hadn’t realized she was holding.
The silence of the dressing room, which usually felt stagnant and dull, now felt like a vacuum, pulling her closer to Minju with an irresistible force. She looked at Minju and saw the flicker of nervousness behind that newfound confidence.
Minju was bluffing, or at least, she was leaning into the bluff with everything she had.
It was a gamble, and the realization that Minju was actually terrified of the outcome made Yunah’s heart swell in a way that had nothing to do with nerves and everything to do with affection.
“You’re an idiot,” Yunah whispered, but this time, she was the one leaning in. She stopped just an inch away, mirroring the tension Minju had spent the last ten minutes cultivating. “A very… pretty idiot.”
Minju’s composure cracked. Her eyes widened slightly, and she let out a small, shaky exhale. The predatory smile vanished, replaced by a look of genuine, wide-eyed vulnerability. “Does that mean it worked?”
“What worked?” Yunah paused.
“The experiment,” Minju whispered, her voice regaining a trace of its earlier steadiness, though her breath was still hitching. “The ten minutes before going on stage. I wanted to calm my nerves, and what better way to do that than to mess with you?”
Yunah let out a soft, incredulous laugh, the tension finally breaking into something warmer. “Minju! You were playing with me! You sat there with a stopwatch in your head while I was having a full-blown existential crisis?!”
“Not a stopwatch,” Minju admitted, a genuine, shy smile returning to her face. “Just the wall clock. And maybe a little bit of prayer that I wouldn't trip over my own feet.” She sat down on a nearby couch, the tension in her body relaxed.
"So what happens now?" Yunah raised an eyebrow as she followed suit and sat next to her. "Do we go back to being the quiet one and the loud one? Or did you permanently break my brain?"
Minju reached out and lightly tapped Yunah’s forehead with her index finger, a playful gesture. “Let’s just say I now know how to get back at you when you’re not teasing me in front of the group.”
Yunah didn't let her off easily, she caught Minju’s wrist, anchoring her in place.
"Oh, shut up," Yunah laughed, though she didn't let go. "You’ve had a very successful ten minutes of making me lose my mind. Don't let it go to your head!”
Minju’s eyes sparked. The shy version of her was still there, but with a newfound confidence that felt like a challenge. She didn’t pull her wrist away and leaned back into the sofa, crossing her legs and looking at Yunah with a gaze that was far too knowing.
“Why would it go to my head?” Minju asked softly, using Yunah’s hand to pose with a finger at her cheek. “It’s simply a fact, Yunah. I know exactly which buttons to press to make you forget how to speak.”
Yunah felt that familiar heat rising in her cheeks again. She hated it, and she loved it. She tightened her grip on Minju’s wrist for a second before letting go, her fingers lingering against the skin.
“No one’s going to know about this!” Yunah tilted her head in a cocky manner. “What else are you trying to prove?”
Minju paused with a look in her eyes that was warm and something almost tender that made Yunah’s stomach do a slow, dizzying flip. “Maybe I just wanted to see if you really are as confident as you pretend to be.”
For a full minute, Yunah simply stared at Minju, visualizing her own face with a sense of betrayal that the blush on her cheeks had spread, painting her face a vivid, undeniable pink.
“And for the record, the blushing is a very good look on you,” Minju added with a chuckle.
The distance between them finally vanished.
As Yunah leaned in, the world around them faded away, shrinking down to the small, warm space that existed solely between their two bodies. Time seemed to stretch, and for a heartbeat that felt like an eternity, neither of them breathed, caught in the weight of the moment. Minju didn’t recoil. She instinctively tilted her head to meet Yunah halfway.
When their lips finally met, it was a soft, tentative connection, the kind that felt electric and tender all at once. The faint hint of mint tea lingered on Minju's lips, reminding Yunah of the comforting warmth that had shared in the ease of their tension. The taste was refreshing, an invitation that stirred something deep within her.
As Yunah felt a shiver race down her spine, she became aware of the frantic rhythm of her heart, pounding with a mixture of excitement and nervousness. She felt Minju's hand, surprisingly firm yet gentle, as it glided from the cushion of the sofa to the nape of Yunah’s neck. The touch sent a rush of warmth through her, pulling her just a little closer.
When they finally pulled apart, neither of them spoke for a long beat. Yunah felt like she had been disassembled and put back together incorrectly as her brain was a mess of static and warmth.
Yunah looked at Minju, expecting to see the smug victor of the "ten-minute experiment," but instead, she found Minju blinking rapidly, her cheeks flushed a deep, vivid crimson.
“Oh,” Minju murmured, her voice sounding small again. “Oh, wow.”
The silence that followed was far more comfortable than the tension that had preceded it. Yunah, recovering her senses, felt a surge of genuine laughter bubble up in her chest. She looked at Minju and saw that she was now the one trembling.
“What happened, Minju?” Yunah teased, her voice returning to its playful lilt, though it was now anchored by a newfound tenderness. “Did you lose your words this time?”
Minju let out a soft, defeated groan and buried her face in her hands, though she didn't pull away from the couch. “That wasn’t supposed to happen,” she muffled through her palms. “I didn't think it would actually... I didn’t think you’d actually kiss me.”
Yunah beamed, leaning back into the sofa and stretching her arms out with a triumphant sigh. She reached over and gently tugged at Minju’s wrist, coaxing her to look up.
“Admit it,” Yunah whispered, her eyes dancing with a mixture of mischief and genuine warmth. “You were playing me but didn’t actually have a plan for that following through.”
Minju peeked through her fingers, her expression a comical blend of pride and utter disorientation. “The goal was to make you nervous, not the other way around.”
Before Yunah could say anything else, the sound of loud voices and footsteps echoed from the hallway. The bubble burst instantly.
Yunah jumped back to her side of the sofa, her movements sudden and jerky, while Minju smoothed her hair with a frantic, reflexive precision.
Moka and some staff members spilled into the room, talking loudly about places they were nearing to go up. Moka stopped mid-sentence, her eyes darting from Yunah’s flushed face to Minju’s suspiciously bright expression. She narrowed her eyes, her gaze lingering on the small gap of sofa between them that felt like a mile of scorched earth.
“Where are they–” Moka asked, her voice trailing off as she scanned the room. She looked at Yunah, who was suddenly very interested in the invisible lint on her skirt, and then at Minju, who was wearing a look of calm, almost spiritual enlightenment. “...What’s going on here?”
“Conversing!” Yunah exclaimed, her voice leaping an octave higher than usual. “Exactly. We were just… chatting. Right, Minju? Songs. Outfits. Snacks. The whole gist.”
Minju didn’t even blink. She leaned back into the sofa, the picture of composure, though the slight tremor in her fingertips betrayed her. “Yes,” Minju said softly, a small, secret smile tugging at the corner of her mouth. “I was simply demonstrating an idea to Yunah about getting snacks after this show.”
Moka frowned, stepping further into the room. “That’s… not what this looks like. Yunah, your face is the color of a strawberry. Are you coming down with a fever?”
“A fever? Me? Please,” Yunah scoffed, finally managing to look up, though her eyes betrayed a frantic sort of energy. She stood up abruptly, nearly tripping over her own feet in the process. “I’m just… energized. For the show! It’s an exciting comeback show.”
Moka didn't look convinced. She shifted her gaze to Minju, who was still sitting with an air of quiet victory. “And you? Why are you smiling like you just won the lottery? You usually look like you’re daydreaming about a nap before and after these things.”
Minju let out a soft, melodic laugh. “I’ve just had a very productive ten minutes, Moka. That’s all.”
Moka's expression was a mix of skepticism and indifference, her brows slightly furrowed as she dismissed the obvious answers. “Uh… Okay, well, we need to head out in two minutes, so I suggest we make a break for it,” she said with a casual shrug, before sprinting away.
Minju responded with a quick nod, rising gracefully from the couch. She smoothed down her outfit, the glittery ensemble that glinted in the dim light, and then snatched her microphone from the side table.
Meanwhile, Yunah preoccupied herself with adjusting her clothes, her fingers deftly tugging at the fabric while she stole glances at herself in the mirror. As she applied the final touches to her makeup, her gaze wandered past her reflection to Minju, who stood poised behind her, a playful glint in her eyes.
With a flirtatious wink, Minju raised her microphone to her lips, her voice dropping to a sultry whisper that seemed to resonate deep within Yunah.
"Careful," Minju teased, her tone a low hum that sent a shiver down Yunah's spine, "If you keep this confident act, you might just find yourself kissing me on the big screen."
Yunah froze.
But with an idea in place now.
“I’ll see you on the stage, Honey!” Minju said, eagerly running off.