Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Saebyeok sighs, her music barely muting the sound of Jiyeong’s Skype ”meeting” with her ”business partners”. It’s more like a fucking party with the way she’s laughing and cheering out loud with full volume on her laptop. At this point, she’s not getting any of her homework done so she sighs, pulls her vape from her nightstand and takes a long puff.

’Flavor of Happy Sunshine!’ it had said on the label. Liars. It tastes like fucking strawberries.

Another loud cheer from Jiyeong echoes through the dorm room, and Saebyeok is this close to just tell her to shut the fuck up, but she’s not that malicious, really... Though right now she’s just given up on her homework.

She tucks her hair behind her ears and can basically feel the grease coating her fingers. Jesus Christ, she needs a shower. This new assignment is taking a fucking toll on her, to say the least.

’'Self-Portrait: Vulnerability’'

”What I want from you, my lovely students, is for you to show me the real you, through art. You’re going to be sketching a self portrait of yourselves during your most vulnerable.” The overly positive professor, Ms. Park had said. She’s always on that sunshine and rainbows shit. Saebyeok doesn’t fucking know how she keeps it up like that because she’s seen Ms. Park crying while downing anti anxiety pills and a bottle of wine in her office once while she was sneaking around campus at night. Don’t blame her. She likes knowing things about people.

But anyways, how the fuck is she going to convey that shit onto paper? She doesn’t want to dig up her emotions right now. It’s too fucking confusing. She looks at the awful portrait of herself. The eyes are wrong, too fucking soft. Maybe… too honest? Fuck if she knows. She sighs desperately and puts the drawing pad aside and walks the fuck out of the annoying ass dorm room where Jiyeong is enjoying herself a little too much for Saebyeoks liking…

Okay, maybe she is a little malicious.

She fucking hates the dorm showers, the floor is always too disgusting. Hair and shit coating it. Gives her goosebumps just thinking about it, but it gets the job done. She’s clean. And her mind is maybe a little more clear now. Maybe now she can focus.

The door creaks open and to her surprise it’s quiet. No yelling. No video call. Just steam rising on the windowsill and Jiyeong sitting criss-cross fucking applesauce on her bed.

”Hey.” Jiyeong says, softly. Smiling up at her gently. ”Thought you might be hungry.” She says, motioning towards the cups.

Saebyeok blinks, this is unusual. ”Uh.. thanks.” She says, reaching for one of them. The cup is warm — almost too warm — and for some reason, it makes her throat feel tight. She sinks to the floor, the bed pressing into the back of her head as she chews tiredly. Chicken-flavored, supposedly. Tastes like warm salt.

”Looked like you were gonna punch someone earlier.” Jiyeong says out of the quiet after a little while. Saebyeok looks up at her and nods, doesn’t really say anything. She doesn’t feel like talking.

”Mine’s fucked too. Can’t even draw my own face.” Jiyeong continues, staring into her noodles before taking another bite.

Saebyeok nods again, swallowing. ”’S hard.” She mumbles.

”Mhm.” Jiyeong agrees. ”A week til’ due, right?”

”Yeah.”

”Yeah..” Jiyeong sighs as she hands Saebyeok a napkin.

A thing Saebyeok knows about Jiyeong is that she knows how to read people. She’s not socially awkward. She knows what to say in the right situations. Saebyeok always liked that part of her. She’s popular in their class. She’s got talent, there’s no denying that. But Saebyeok doesn’t like how Jiyeong always helps her with her assignments, even when she doesn’t want help at all. She’ll scowl at Jiyeong as she leans over Saebyeok to help her tweak some detail she missed or some shit. Annoying motherfucker.

But she likes Jiyeong’s nose piercing, and her haircut, and her highlights. She doesn’t know how to explain it. It just fits her.

They’ve known each other for about half a year — ever since they were moved into the same dorm. And Saebyeok hates that she’s getting used to Jiyeongs whack ass music taste. Every single word from the song ’Pink Pony club’ is basically engraved in her brain. Every. Single. Fucking. Word. She even catches herself singing it sometimes and has to physically stop what she’s doing to get the song out of her head. Chappell Roan has gotta be some sort of fucking sorceress.

Saebyeok hugs her pillow and sighs, listening to Jiyeong’s soft breaths is soothing her to sleep. She hates sleeping alone — but with Jiyeong there, it feels a little less lonely.

The next morning hits like a goddamn truck.

”Shit — sorry!” He yelps, but scrambles faster than Saebyeoks motivation to actually go to class fades. She looks down at her coffee-soaked shirt. What a fucking pissy way to start the day, huh? Students around her shoot sideways glances. She hates when people stare. She quickly gathers herself and runs to the bathroom to wash the shit out of her shirt before running to her class. The class is boring and she smells like coffee and her eyes hurt from staring at nothing. She sneaks a couple blows from her vape in her sleeve when nobody is watching. Can you blame her? It’s been a shitty fucking morning.

When the professor finally calls out those angelic words, ”Dismissed”, Saebyeok couldn’t be out of there any faster.

She doesn’t have many close friends at school. There’s Minsu — the poor fuck who always needs help when his computer crashes, but he's innocent and Saebyeok likes talking with him, he gives good advice and he's really nice. There's Junhee who's in this love triangle between her baby daddy and this lesbian, Semi. She usually comes to Saebyeok at lunch. Then there’s Thanos, this lame rapper she buys weed and cheap vapes from. He’s always got this guy with a fuckass bob haircut hanging from his arm who gets jealous easily — like, will outright threaten her if Thanos throws out a casual flirty comment her way. Thanos is like that all the time though, Saebyeok has noticed, so it must be hard for the bob dude to keep his guy in line.

The day swooshes by, and she’s thankful the Korean history and language lesson wasn’t as brutal as it usually is. They had fucking mercy on their students today. It’s finally 14:30, and she can return to her dorm, her safe space.

As soon as her hand touches the knob, she knows Jiyeong’s already inside. She can tell by the way Jiyeong always lines up her shoes just so, neat and precise. Sure enough, she opens the door and finds Jiyeong at her easel, posture straight, eyes focused, hand working the pencil. The afternoon light hits her from behind, setting her hair aglow like a halo. Saebyeok stares for a second too long. It's normal, alright? Totally fucking normal. Anyone would have.

She steps inside, drops her bag by the bed, and melts onto the floor. Jiyeong glances over, smirking just a little too knowingly. “You gonna shower or just marinate in that?”

Saebyeok scoffs. “Bold of you to assume I have the energy to move,” she mutters. Jiyeong laughs a little before continuing her artwork. She watches her for a moment, and then works up her courage enough to ask, “What’re you painting?”

Jiyeong glances at her, hesitating a little at first. “Um.. It’s this class I’m taking ‘Studies of the Human Body’. We were assigned to paint, y’know…” she trails off. Saebyeok thinks she knows what she means.

It’s sudden, what she asks next. “Can I see?”

Jiyeong glances at her, opens her mouth like she’s about to say something—then closes it again. Instead, she slowly turns her easel toward Saebyeok.

And—yeah. That’s… definitely not what Saebyeok was expecting.

“Oh,” she says, blinking at the canvas.

It’s Jiyeong. Fucking naked. Or at least from the waist up. Her breasts are small but perky, her posture relaxed but proud, and—fuck, she’s got a really nice pair of nipples.

Saebyeok stares for maybe a beat too fucking long. Like, long enough for the silence to become weird.

“Perv,” Jiyeong blurts, whipping the canvas back around—but she’s laughing, just a little. Her ears are flushed red.

Saebyeok snaps out of it like someone shot her. “Shit—sorry,” she mumbles, scratching the back of her neck. God, what the fuck. “It’s… good.”

”Thanks.”

There’s a moment of silence before Jiyeong scoffs — like, full-on scoffs. “Really analyzing those brushstrokes, huh?”

Saebyeok feels her cheeks heat up. No fucking way. “Huh? No, I—”

Jiyeong cuts her off with a laugh. “It’s okay. Don’t mind.” Oh. That’s… “My teacher’s gonna be looking at it too, so…”

Saebyeok hums, her fingers toying with the cap of the vape. She should probably be doing her own homework right now, but it’s Monday. The thing’s not due for a week. Fuck it. She sighs and takes a hit.

Jiyeong works in silence for a while, focused. After a few minutes, she tilts her head to the side, squinting at the canvas. Her brush taps out a few final strokes — small details — and then she leans back and exhales like she’s finally done.

”That’s it. If Ms. Park doesn’t like this I’m dropping out.” She sighs, dropping her pencil in a cup with water.

Saebyeok scoffs. ”And then what?”

That mischievous look flashes across Jiyeong’s face, finger tapping her chin like she’s really thinking. It’s cute. Then—

“Stripping.”

Saebyeok chokes on her vape. “The fuck?” She laughs.

A laugh bursts out of her, and it’s nice. Bright, teasing. The room settles into silence for a little while and you can hear the bass of a lame rap song blaring from the other room and some couple banging in the next clearer. Not so nice.

But Jiyeong breaks that silence, tucking her hair behind her ear. ”Nah, but it’s prolly the nearest bet.”

”Really?” Saebyeok never would’ve thought that. But that’s only because the girl is really fucking smart and annoyingly ambitious.

”I only came into college because this teacher I knew gave me a full scholarship. She always said she saw something in me.” Jiyeong chuckles, looking down at the carpeted floor of the dorm room. ”If it weren’t for her, I wouldn’t be here… so.”

Saebyeok is unsure of what to say. She’s not fucking good with words. Expression. Fucking expressing herself is something she’s not used to. She hasn’t really done all that since…

The days when everything happened. Her dad’s face. Her mom screaming and reaching for her and her brother as the soldiers carried her and her dead father’s body away. Away from her and Cheol.

Saebyeok shakes her head at the thought, waving it away. She can’t bring herself to think about it.

She hasn’t been to the orphanage where Cheol lives in a week. College’s been stressful and the orphanage is loud—fucking chaotic. Little fucking kids running around your feet. Can’t even walk without stepping on one, but she really wants to see her little brother now. She makes a plan to go there on Friday, when things calm down a little with school. She’ll draw and send a postcard to him with him and Spiderman together again, that’ll surely brighten his day, even if just a little, he fucking loves Spiderman. She knows he doesn’t have any friends in there, and that fact just about kills her.

”What’re you thinking about?” Jiyeong’s voice snaps her out of it. She looks to where Jiyeong was sitting by her easel but she’s now sitting in front of her, handing her some sort of green soda.

”Nothing, just…” She considers, before answering. ”Family shit.”

Jiyeong hums beside her. ”Tricky, huh?”

Saebyeok nods.

”Know how that is.”

Saebyeok considers Jiyeongs sentence, but then she can’t seem to get the weird fucking soda open.

”The hell is this?” She frowns.

”You’ve never had Ramune?” Jiyeong gasps dramatically, like Saebyeok just crawled out of a cave or some shit. Ridiculous, really.

Jiyeong must’ve caught the look on Saebyeok’s face, because suddenly she’s beside her, ripping open some plastic, fumbling with a weird little cap — and then a pop, a fizz, and a melon scent fills the room.

”Here. This is the best flavor.”

Their fingers brush against each other for a split second as Jiyeong hands it to her and the touch makes her jolt back a little, just out of instinct.

Saebyeok puts it to her lips, and shit.. That’s really good.

“Wow—”

“Told you,” Jiyeong cuts in, smug as hell.

Stupid.

...Cute.

Saebyeok scoffs, sipping the drink. “Where do you buy this?”

“Ogu Mart,” Jiyeong says.

Saebyeok sucks air through her teeth. That place is fucking expensive. She remembers one time—rushing to her old job at the theme park and grabbing a quick coffee there. That cup basically cost her a whole-ass paycheck.

“Fucking robbery,” she mutters.

Jiyeong laughs. “I know, right?”

Saebyeok finishes the soda, licking a drop off her thumb, and thinks she might actually survive this week.

By Friday, the sun is already setting when she steps off the bus in front of the orphanage. The week’s been normal, just a little more stressful thanks to that damn “self-portrait of vulnerability” bullshit. She’s at least sketched something, but it’s still missing… something.

Cheol is quiet, looking down at the ground. He’s got a new bruise on his knee because he got pushed down the stairs by this little fuck who’s been tormenting him for a while now. She swears to god if it was legal she’d teach the kid a lesson. Not even his favorite ice cream made him look her in the eye. Fuck. He’s just 6, he shouldn’t be feeling like this shit. Saebyeok runs a hand through her hair and shifts on the bed across from him. The other kids are tearing through the room, toy cars crashing, someone screaming — chaos.

"Did you like the postcard I sent you, Cheol?" she asks, trying to draw something out of him. Anything.

He glances at the windowsill, where he’s taped it up neatly, and nods. “…Yeah.”

”Good.” She smiles at him as he half-heartedly takes a bite of his ice cream. ”Have you made any new frien—”

”Why can’t I live with you?”

A fucking truck. It feels like a fucking truck hits her. She takes a deep, shaky breath. He's right, why the fuck can’t she just bring him with her? Why can’t he just live with her in her dorm? She really really fucking wants to, but fuck.. she just can’t. Not with all the stress of her school, responsibilities and shit. ”Because.. I live in college, Cheol. There’s no room for you.”

”You only visit once a week, nuna.” His eyes flicker with hurt.

And… it’s true. It’s not enough and she fucking knows that. That reality gnaws at her heart like a sword twisting inside of her, but how the hell do you explain that to a kid who just wants to be with someone who cares?

The air is thick and the kids are too loud. She stands up, then sits down beside Cheol, pulling him into a tight hug and pressing a firm kiss to his forehead. He sniffles and leans into it.

”I’m sorry, dongsaeng-a. I’ll come over tomorrow—and Sunday, too. How’s that?”

Cheol sniffles again and his nose is red, but finally nods. She smooths down his hair. The ice cream is starting to melt down his fingers.

”Come on, eat your ice cream quickly before the house mother sees.” She looks around the room, but no one is noticing anyways. She probably shouldn’t have given him ice cream right before he’s about to go to bed, but fuck it. He looks at least a little happier when he gets to the nougat chocolate part he likes so much.

The door creaks open, and the house mother’s voice cuts through the quiet chaos.
“Kang Saebyeok, time to start wrapping up. Bedtime’s in fifteen.”

Saebyeok sighs but doesn’t move right away. When Cheol had finished his ice cream and starts rubbing at his eyes, she stands up and smooths down her clothes.

”I’ll be back early tomorrow, and we’ll do something fun. Okay?”

”Okay.”

A quick peck to his forehead and a hug and she’s out of the orphanage.

It’s about 9pm when she gets back to her dorm and Jiyeong surprisingly isn’t inside. It’s only when she’s let the tiredness pull her eyelids close that she hears her, but her footsteps sound heavy—which is weird cause you never fucking hear her walking, she’s like a damn ghost or some shit. Saebyeok hears her sigh exaggeratedly as she fumbles with the key in the door, opening it a little more rough than usual. She tries to be silent, but is obviously failing. What the fuck’s got her so aggravated? She’s never like this.

Saebyeok almost turns over to ask what’s wrong—but decides against it. Too fucking tired.

She lets sleep drag her under when, barely there, she hears it:

"Saebyeok?"

Next morning, she’s dragged out of sleep by the feeling of something being placed on her chest. It smells good. Suspiciously good.

She cracks one eye open, and there’s a rice ball balanced on her hoodie. Tuna. Her fucking favorite.

Is this a dream? Did she die in her sleep and go to some weird version of heaven where your favorite food just appears on your chest?

Then she hears it—Jiyeong humming off-key from the other side of the room.

Ah. Not heaven. Just her dumbass roommate.

“…Did you just feed me in my sleep?” Saebyeok grumbles, voice rough with morning.

Jiyeong doesn’t even look up from her laptop. “You’re welcome.”

Saebyeok doesn’t complain though, it’s been a while since she had one of these. She unwraps it and takes a bite.

Okay, yeah. Heaven.

“Thanks, Ji.”

It slips out casually, mid-chew. She doesn’t even clock it until Jiyeong’s already smiling — soft, almost smug — before going back to her screen.

After a beat, Jiyeong asks, “What’re you doing today?” She looks up again, eyes curious, legs pulled up under her.

Saebyeok takes a second to mentally sort through her to-do list. First, pick up Cheol from the orphanage. Then spend literally all her savings making his day at the amusement park. Then go home and try not to crash out about her bank account. But at least it’s for a good cause.

“I’m spending the day with Cheol,” she says. “My little brother.”

The clicking of keyboard buttons stop for a moment, ”Oh, I didn’t know you had a brother. You never mentioned him.”

Saebyeok shrugs, chewing. ”Never came up, I guess.”

”Huh.”

The keyboard clicking ensues, and Saebyeok takes another bite, fucking savoring that shit. She’s not gonna have enough money to buy any of these after today. She watches a bit of seaweed stick to her thumb and wipes it off on her hoodie.

“What are you gonna do?” Jiyeong asks, voice lighter this time. She swivels a little in her desk chair to glance over. Her eyes are curious, not nosy.

Saebyeok exhales. “Taking him to the amusement park.”

Jiyeong blinks, and then her whole face softens. “That’s really sweet,” she says, and then after a beat, “But isn’t that… kinda expensive?”

”I’ve been saving.”

There’s a long pause this time, long enough that Saebyeok thinks the conversation’s over. She leans back into her pillow, ready to close her eyes again.

But then, ”Mind if I tag along?”

Saebyeok opens one eye. “...Why?”

Jiyeong shrugs, like it’s no big thing. But there’s a flicker in her face—thoughtful, careful. “I can help pay,” she says. “I know stuff like that adds up. Tickets, food, everything. I don’t mind.”

That makes Saebyeok pause. She glances over at Jiyeong, who’s now fussing with the zipper of her laptop case like she didn’t just casually offer to drop money on a kid she’s never met.

She wants to say no. Instinct says no. She doesn’t really let people into this part of her life—especially not the messy, personal, painfully real part. But then she thinks about Cheol. About how quiet he’s been lately. How his eyes barely lit up at the ice cream yesterday, even when he got to the nougat part. And how he’s been asking more and more why he can’t just live with her.

She imagines how his face might look if he got to ride those bumper cars. Or see the aquarium tunnel. Or win something dumb and colorful from a rigged claw machine.

It wouldn’t hurt to have a second person there. Someone who might make him laugh. Someone warm.

Still, she’s unsure. She doesn’t want Cheol to feel weird. Doesn’t want her to feel weird either.

“I don’t know if he’ll be happy,” she says finally, voice low. “He’s… not really used to people.”

Jiyeong quiets for a second. She doesn’t joke it off. Just sits there, picking at a loose thread on her sleeve. Then softly, “That’s okay. I’m not really used to people either.”

That makes Saebyeok glance at her. Jiyeong doesn’t say it like she’s being poetic. She says it like a fact. Like how some people are allergic to shrimp or hate waking up before ten.

“I won’t get in the way,” Jiyeong adds, eyes still down. “I just thought… I don’t know. I could help. Maybe take pictures of you two, or run ahead in line so he doesn’t have to wait forever. I won’t talk too much, I swear.” She finally looks up again, grinning—just barely. “And I’m really good at winning claw machines. I’ll get him something cool. Like, one of those dumb sharks with the little hats.”

Saebyeok rolls her eyes at that, but there’s no real bite behind it.

She wants to say no.

But Cheol would like a dumb shark with a little hat.

And maybe… maybe Jiyeong wouldn’t be the worst person to have around.

“...Fine,” she mutters, standing up and brushing rice crumbs off her hoodie. “If you get me another rice ball.”

Jiyeong’s face breaks into that ridiculous toothy grin. “You’re bankrupting me,” she says, mock offended.

Saebyeok tries to hold back a smile, but it sneaks out anyway. Shit.
“Alright, get ready. We’re leaving at ten.”

Jiyeong looks at the clock, and suddenly her face drops. Fuck.

Saebyeok follows her gaze — nine thirty.

“No way,” Jiyeong mutters, starting to scramble through her wardrobe. Saebyeok should brush the tuna breath off her teeth first.

It takes them about ten minutes each to get ready. Jiyeong slaps on some light eye makeup, and Saebyeok scrubs at that damn tuna breath until it’s almost gone. The ride to the orphanage is like fifteen minutes, so thank fucking god they actually make it there on time.

The house mother’s waiting for them with a warm smile outside of the gate, “Morning, Saebyeok. Cheol just ate breakfast and he’s hanging out in the hall with his bag.”

“Thanks,” Saebyeok says, nodding.

Jiyeong chimes in with a chirpy, “Thank you!”

They head inside, Jiyeong trailing just behind her, practically bouncing. Saebyeok doesn’t get it—how the hell is she so cheerful right now? If the roles were reversed, she’d be sweating through her clothes at the idea of meeting her roommate’s sibling. But Jiyeong looks like she’s on her way to a damn picnic.

They round the corner into the hall, and there’s Cheol—sitting on a bench, legs swinging, staring down at his shoes.

Saebyeok’s heart does this dumb little jump the second she sees him.

“Cheol,” she calls, gentle.

His head snaps up. A second later, he hops down and runs straight into her arms. It's the kind of hug that settles something in her—familiar, warm, like muscle memory. She smiles and dips her nose into his hair. He smells like Cheol. Warm and cinnamony. Like home, in a way.

She almost forgets there's a third person standing behind her until—

“Hi! I’m Jiyeong,” the voice chimes in, cheerful. She steps forward with a small wave. “I’m Saebyeok’s friend. I’ll be tagging along to the fair.”

Cheol hesitates. She sees it instantly—the way his cheeks turn rosy, how his fingers curl into the fabric of her jacket as he hides behind her.

“Nuna…” he mumbles.

“It’s okay, Cheol,” she says, gently. “She’s nice. She’ll buy you anything you want at the amusement park.” She tosses a smirk over her shoulder at Jiyeong—light, teasing.

Jiyeong snorts. “Wow. Reduced to a walking wallet.”

Cheol’s grip loosens. He looks at Jiyeong again — longer, this time — and then back up at Saebyeok.

“Really?” he asks, voice still small. “I can get the caramel popcorn?”

“You can get three,” Jiyeong replies.

That does it. His eyes brighten, just a little. He still clings to Saebyeok’s arm, but his body relaxes.

”Okay okay, but we’ll eat first. There’s a sandwich shop nearby.” Saebyeok orders, and they go.

They make their way out of the shop slowly, unwrapping their sandwiches as they walk. Jiyeong’s in the middle of some ridiculous story about a pigeon stealing her dumplings once, and Cheol is actually kind of smiling.

Saebyeok holds his hand, chewing her sandwich in silence, just watching them. It’s salty and has tuna and tomato on it—Jyeong’s present—as she says it. Jiyeong is busy throwing all her energy into making Cheol laugh, and somehow, Saebyeok really likes that.

It’s nice, having someone else make him feel like a kid. Not a charity case. Not a burden. Just… a kid, who gets dumb jokes and extra pickles on his sandwich and maybe, just maybe, a memory good enough to outshine the shitty ones.

She lets herself breathe a little easier.

It’s his day. And Jiyeong seems to get that.

Thank fuck.

It’s a twenty–minute bus ride to the fair. Cheol sits quietly beside Saebyeok, his small hand wrapped tight around hers.

“So, what do you want to ride first?” she asks.

His eyes light up instantly. “Teacups! Can we go together?”

Saebyeok nods along at that, trying to be cheerful. But the thing is—she’s got horrible fucking vertigo. Spinning rides are her kryptonite. Three turns in and her stomach stages a coup, she’s out. So no, she actually doesn’t want to go on the teacups. But her little brother does.

Goddamn. Goodbye breakfast and lunch.

Across from them, Jiyeong leans forward, elbows on her knees like she’s been dying to jump in. “Do you like rollercoasters, Cheol?”

Cheol nods. “Me and Nuna went on one last year. The one that spins in the air. But she puked after.”

Saebyeok is a little surprised on the answer, not only because Cheol literally just called her out for being a rollercoaster pussy chicken whatever, but also that that sentence was longer than she’s heard from him in months.

Jiyeong shoots her a look—teasing, but silent—and tucks a strand of hair behind her ear before launching into a whole conversation with Cheol about the best rides. Saebyeok’s chest warms.

He’s opening up. Finally.

They’re now at the fair and the morning air is fresh and the sun is shining bright for fall. It smells like cotton candy and pretzels and popcorn, which Cheol already has ran to get his hands on, Jiyeong and Saebyeok tagging close behind him. Jiyeong humbly pays for the big portion Cheol gets for himself and Saebyeok throws her multiple thankful glances, because fuck, she’s really paying for this shit.

Spending money on Cheol.

For her.

Saebyeok feels her cheeks heat up a little at that idea, but brushes it off when Cheol runs up to the teacups, holding Saebyeok’s hand. Suddenly that warm flush is fucking nausea.

”Saebyeok, can we go on the teacups now?” Cheol asks. Saebyeok’s stomach does a not—so—funny twist. She starts breathing a little heavier.

Jiyeong notices, always notices when something is off. She’s so sweet like that. She knows. “Cheol, I don’t think Saebyeok’s feeling her best,” Jiyeong says gently. “How about I go with you instead?”

Cheol looks at her. “Nuna, you don’t want to go?”

“Not the spinny things, dongsaeng-a. Remember last time?” She drops onto a bench. “You two go. Have fun.”

Cheol hesitates, then glances at Jiyeong, who is pulling the most 'Come on, let’s do this' face Saebyeok’s ever seen. It’s almost cartoonish. Cheol finally takes her outstretched hand—small, trusting—and lets himself be led to the ride.

When they come out, Saebyeok has snapped several photos of them, Cheol’s toothy grin showing bright on his face in every photo. It’s been a long fucking time since she last saw that. And now she got to see it again, frozen forever on her phone. Because of Jiyeong.

Jiyeong, Jiyeong.

The name sits warm in her head, too warm, like she should be embarrassed just for thinking it.

They walk out together, hair messy from the wind, eyes still a little wild from the spinning. They’d definitely been the fastest ones out there—Jiyeong’s cheeks were flushed and her chest rose with leftover laughter. Jiyeong catches her smiling and sends one right back, a little tilted, like she’s wondering why Saebyeok’s looking at her like that.

She looks away before her face gives her away.

“Oh! The log ride!” Cheol squeals.

This one she can handle. No spinning, no nausea—just a splash and it’s over. Cheol hops into the front of the log, she sits in the middle, and Jiyeong slides into the back. When they’re higher up than Saebyeok is comfortable with, her breath quickens, and of course, Jiyeong notices.

And that’s when Jiyeong does it. Just fucking does it.

Arms wrap around Saebyeok’s waist like it’s the most natural thing in the world. She freezes. Her eyes drop to Jiyeong’s chipped black nails, their fingers casually intertwined, like she’s planning on holding on forever.

“Hold on to me if you’re scared,” Jiyeong murmurs, voice low and way, way too close to her ear.

Her heart trips over itself. She’s not even sure it’s from the drop anymore. Right before the plunge, she grabs one of Jiyeong’s hands, holding it tight, knuckles brushing against hers.

The splash comes, cold and loud.

Jiyeong’s laugh is louder. “Holy shit, Saebyeok!” she shouts, pointing at the ride photo at the counter. “I have to get this.”

Saebyeok doesn’t want to see it, but her eyes betray her. One glance, and her dignity is gone. Cheol’s in the front, grinning like he just won the lottery. Behind him—there she is. Rigid, red as a damn tomato, eyes huge like she’s seen a ghost. And Jiyeong… Jiyeong is just stupidly cute, arms still around her waist, mouth open in a scream that somehow looks like a smile. It’s kind of funny how Jiyeong keeps giggling at the keychain photo she just bought. She hooks it to her dorm keys, sneaking another peek before slipping it into her bag.

The day drifts on. The sky shifts from bright blue to a soft, light purple—then deepens to orange as the sun sinks lower. The air’s getting cooler. Cheol and Jiyeong have gone on every roller coaster except the ferris wheel because Cheol calls it boring.

As they stroll past the gift shop, Cheol suddenly stops and points. “Look! That’s Minji!” he says, tugging Saebyeok’s sleeve. Saebyeok squints and recognizes the girl playing nearby—someone Cheol sometimes plays with in the orphanage.

A cheerful voice calls out. “Kang Saebyeok! What a surprise!” Mila—Minji’s big sister—is standing there with a bright red lipstick smile, her hair messily tied up. She’s always been one of the kindest people from the orphanage, no matter what.

Saebyeok waves back, a small smile pulling at her lips. “Hey, Mila. This is Jiyeong.”

Cheol’s already treading towards Minji, shyly giving her a wave before they take off running into the arcade like it’s the most natural fucking thing. Saebyeok doesn’t know how kids do it.

Mila watches them for a moment, then turns back to Saebyeok. “Been here long?”

“Since around noon,” Saebyeok says, trying to sound casual but knowing it sounds tired.

Mila glances at the watch on her wrist. “Wow, you guys must be wiped.”

Saebyeok looks back at the kids, their laughter drifting over the hum of the arcade games. “Yeah, but someone’s gotta keep an eye on him.”

There’s something in Mila’s eyes—a kind of quiet understanding—as she says, “I can watch them for a bit if you want. You should take a breather. Go somewhere quieter for a minute.”

Saebyeok hesitates, the thought of leaving Cheol even for a moment twisting her gut. Then Jiyeong’s voice cuts in, soft but sure, “That might be nice, Saebyeok. Maybe we can go on the ferris wheel and see the city?”

Saebyeok meets her eyes, sees something gentle there. Maybe it’s trust. Maybe it’s relief. Maybe it’s just what she needs to hear.

She kneels down beside Cheol, who’s busy trying to swat a toy away with a grin. “Jiyeong and I are gonna ride the ferris wheel. You’re not coming with us, right?”

“No way!” Cheol laughs, swatting back at the toy.

She ruffles his hair. “Okay, be good.”

The cart wiggles as they get settled and Saebyeok’s heart jumps a little, unsure, maybe a little scared. Okay, fuck, she’s scared. It’s small and cramped, if you were sitting across from each other your knees would squish together. Jiyeong sits opposite her, eyes steady, calm. Then, without warning, Jiyeong’s hand slides over and grabs hers.

”It’s okay. We’re fine here.” Jiyeong says softly and smiles, Saebyeoks heart races at the touch. ”It’ll be beautiful up there.”

Saebyeok swallows hard, eyes dropping to their hands tangled together.

Why the hell does this feel like it’s ripping her apart from the inside?

This isn’t just nerves. It’s something else.

Something that’s been sneaking up on her for a while now.

Goddamn it, what is this?

The cart jerks, and without even meaning to, Saebyeok grabs Jiyeong’s hand. It’s warm and steady. Feels good. Feels... safe. Weird, because she’s not used to feeling safe like this. They’re climbing up slowly now, and the city lights are all blurry dots below them. Pretty.

“Thank you... for today,” Saebyeok says quietly, looking down at their hands.

Jiyeong squeezes. “Don’t mention it. It was fun.”

The girls sink into silence for a while, fucking holding hands while watching the view like they’re.. something.

After a moment, Jiyeong breaks the silence. ”Cheol is really something, huh?”

Saebyeok smiles at that. ”Yeah.. I think you really made his day.” She pauses, swallowing the lump in her throat. ”It’s hard, being the one to take care of him, but he’s my little brother…

Sometimes I feel like he’s the only family I have. I’m always worried about him.”

Jiyeong listens wihtout interrupting, her eyes gentle.

Saebyeok looks down at their hands, they’re starting to get clammy, but she doesn’t want to let go. ”I escaped from North Korea with my family. My dad got shot and my Mom didn’t make it past the exit, she got caught.” She feels tears pool. Fuck. ”If I only had… done something—”

”Saebyeok.” Jiyeong suddenly says. She meets her gaze, soft. Her eyes are now sharp, ”You did not do anything wrong. Okay? You need to understand that.” Silence stretches in the cart yet again. Jiyeong bites her bottom lip, looking down at the ground. ”I… really loved today. Hanging out with you and Cheol. I.. really like you.”

Saebyeok looks into her eyes, trusting, warm.

The air in the cart feels soft and safe.

Without thinking, Saebyeok shifts closer, her heart fucking racing fast, fast, faster. ”Me too.”

Now the air is thicker, safer and so, so, so soft and Jiyeong looks so so so pretty and she’s beautiful like an angel from heaven and Saebyeok wants to hold back and she wants to kiss her and she wants to hold her.

But just as she’s about to give in and let her mind melt like butter, Jiyeong does it for her.

Their breaths mingle, their noses brush, their lips brush. And as they almost kiss, Saebyeok’s feels like she could die at any moment. Her arms are jello, her legs are shaking and she’s fucking heating up. Anticipation. But just as it’s about to happen, the cart jerks violently and they’re down again.

”Time to get out ladies!” The conductor smiles at them, waving. Saebyeok jerks back like she’s been shocked, what the fuck just happened? Did they almost…?

She clears her throat, heart hammering. Jiyeong looks at her, confused, but then laughs a little.

They step out of the cart, and fuck, the air between them is thick with awkwardness. Saebyeok can’t help but almost laugh, along with Jiyeong. The conductor watches with a knowing smile, guiding them toward the exit like he’s seen this all before. How many girls have almost kissed in this ferris wheel?

Telling Cheol it’s time to go home is like telling a kid his puppy just died, or worse, like he just watched all his friends fall from the N Seoul fucking Tower. He kicks at the pavement, mumbling something about wanting one more ride—

Until Jiyeong appears with a candy necklace in one hand and a cloud of pink and blue cotton candy in the other. Instantly, he lights up like it’s Christmas morning. On the bus, he crashes hard, head in Saebyeok’s lap, sugar crusted on his fingers, his mouth sticky with candy slobber. She brushes a bit of cotton candy off his cheek.

When they get off, Saebyeok crouches so she can shift him onto her back. His little arms loop around her neck, heavy with sleep. The walk to the orphanage is quiet.

"Guess sugar doesn’t really keep someone awake for long, huh?" Jiyeong says, nodding at the dead weight on Saebyeok’s back. And, yeah, it’s true—Cheol’s out cold, head lolling against her shoulder like he’s been sedated.

Saebyeok smirks. "Yeah. Guess not."

Inside, they manage to peel him off her and put him into bed. He doesn’t even stir—just curls up and sighs. The house mother thanks them, but it’s late and Saebyeok’s too tired to be polite for long. They’re back out on the street within minutes, heading to the bus stop. This time, she pays for both of them. Feels right. Jiyeong’s been throwing money around all day on Cheol — snacks, games, stupid little souvenirs — like it’s nothing. Least Saebyeok can do is cover a bus fare.

They ride in that quiet that isn’t awkward, just… easy. Jiyeong picks at a loose thread on her sleeve, eyes on nothing, and then — without warning — sets her hand on Saebyeok’s.

It’s warm. Too warm. Saebyeok’s pulse kicks up and then she flips her palm up, open, letting Jiyeong’s fingers slip in. An invitation.

Jiyeong’s smile is soft. Gentle. Like she’s not just smiling at her, but into her.

Saebyeok can’t help it — she smiles back.

Chapter Text

“What the—” Saebyeok mutters, swiping at her eyes. “That’s not even a good ending.”

Jiyeong’s still staring at the end credits like her soul just left her body. “You’re fucking right. They didn’t even get to be happy for, like, five minutes.”

Saebyeok groans, leaning back against the headboard. “What was the point of all that shit then?”

Jiyeong yanks the blanket over her head. “I swear, if they remake this in Korea, they better give them a puppy and a beach house or something.”

Saebyeok snorts, though her chest still feels tight. “Yeah. Sure. Brokeback Busan. Very original.” Her heart feels like a kicked puppy. They should’ve never watched that goddamn movie.

Jiyeong sighs under the blanket and leans into her. It’s nice. Warm. Soft. After the amusement park, they’ve been… easier. Closer.

It’s Tuesday, the day after she turned in her Portrait of Vulnerability — except it wasn’t her. It was that photo from the fair: Jiyeong and Cheol riding the teacups. She doesn’t know why, but it just… fit. Ms. Park loved it. Whatever. It better be an A after all that.

They don’t have any real plans except Thanos is hosting a party on Friday at his place, and he basically made them go, came to beg in their dorm with the bob dude and even offered money, drugs, vapes and smokes. Their reason was they needed more ’pretty girls’ there. Bastard.

But maybe it’ll be fun anyways, it’s been a while since she got shitfaced.

And Jiyeong will be there.

Maybe they can get shitfaced together.

The two days ever since that… almost kiss… have been weird. She’s noticed something about Jiyeong — she’s been more touchy. Touchy before, sure, but now… not in a friend way.

It’s… something else.

Like Jiyeong wrapping her arms around Saebyeok’s back and nuzzling into her. Or playing with her hair when they’re watching a movie. Or occasionally holding her hand and stroking her thumb over Saebyeok’s knuckles.

It’s unusual. Something she’s never been exposed to like this.

School is hard. Feelings are harder. Fuck.

Life, man.

”Kang Saebyeok.”

”Huh?” She snaps out of it.

She’s at the lunch table with Semi and Minsu, tiredly chewing rice, staring down at her plate like a madman. They’ve got an assignment to finish together about the Korean Language class or whatever..

Minsu eyes her, concerned. “What’s on your mind?”

She shrugs. “Tired.” A lie, but simple enough.

“Is it Jiyeong?” Semi smirks, and just like that, she’s exposed. Fuck.

“What—”

“Oh, come on, everyone knows.”

“Knows what?” Saebyeok asks, cheeks heating.

Semi leans back a little, smug. ”We’ve seen how close you’ve been lately.”

”That’s nothing…”

Minsu shakes his head, ”It’s kinda obvious, Saebyeok. You like her.”

Saebyeok chokes on her fucking spit. Like? Like… Like like?? Fucking love?!

She shakes her head. ”I do not—”

“Uh-huh,” Semi interrupts, smirking, “sure, keep telling yourself that.”

She shoots a glance at Semi, wondering if she should call her out on the fight she and Junhee had the other day, just to piss her off a little enough to stop talking about this shit, but she doesn’t. It looked too painful for Semi. Junhee apparently went back to that asshole Myunggi.

She groans, pushing her hair out of her face. “Can we just—focus on the assignment?”

Minsu laughs quietly. “Yeah, focus. But… maybe don’t lie to us. It’s okay, Saebyeok.”

Her chest tightens, and she feels heat creeping up her neck. Damn it.

Saebyeok tosses her empty lunch tray onto the stack and heads out into the hallway when they’re done studying, still feeling that annoying warmth in her neck. Great. Now Semi and Minsu know about this shit.

She’s halfway to class when she hears, “Saebyeok-ah!” Jiyeong jogs up beside her, hair loose, scarf half on. She grins, way too cheerful for whatever time of day this is. “Why’s your face all red?”

“It’s not,” Saebyeok mutters. She adjusts her bag strap, pretending to focus on walking.

Jiyeong tilts her head, eyeing her. “It’s totally red. You thinking ’bout someone?”

Saebyeok shoots her a glare. “No. I was just—” She stops herself before saying 'thinking about you, actually'. “—talking to Semi and Minsu.”

Jiyeong hums. “And?”

“And nothing,” Saebyeok says, a little sharper than she means to.

Jiyeong just smirks like she knows something. “You’re a bad liar, Kang Saebyeok.”

They walk in silence for a beat before Jiyeong bumps her shoulder against Saebyeok’s.

“Party Friday,” Jiyeong says, sing-song. “We’re gonna have fun.”

Saebyeok huffs. “You mean you’re gonna have fun.”

Jiyeong grins wider. “Only if you’re there.”

Damn it.

Saebyeok smiles.

The rest of the day drags, and Saebyeok can’t fucking wait to get back to her dorm. Two measly lessons and it’s already 4 p.m., but her eyelids feel like they’ve been lifting weights all day. She trudges down the hall, half-dead—

Until she sees the shoes lined up outside the door.

Her energy perks up, just a little.

Because she knows Jiyeong’s in there. Sure enough, Jiyeong’s at her desk, chatting away on Skype. When Saebyeok steps inside, she hears a quick goodbye, and the spinny chair swivels around to face her. Two steaming paper cups of ramyeon are sitting next to her, waiting.

Jiyeong smiles, gestures.

“Why do you always cook for us?” Saebyeok asks, half-smiling as she drops her bag by the bed.

“Cook?” Jiyeong snorts. “I bought these at Ogu Mart and microwaved them in the lounge.”

Saebyeok sits beside her, grabbing the chopsticks. “Still.”

“I do it because you always skip lunch.”

“…Huh?” Saebyeok glances over.

Jiyeong gives her a look—half stern, half soft—then swats her shoulder. “Don’t play dumb. That’s not good for you. You gotta eat if you wanna survive the day.”

Saebyeok stares down into her paper cup. “Sorry.”

“Yeah, you should be, dummy,” Jiyeong says around a mouthful of noodles.

Chappell Roan is playing in the background—of course. It’s a new one, she doesn't understand shit about what she's singing about but it's something about a subway and a girl who “got away”, as Jiyeong had explained. Saebyeok hates that she actually listened to it after Jiyeong told her to.

The paper cups are empty, a faint scent of the food still lingering. The room is dark except for the fairy lights Jiyeong strung up along the wall, and somehow, some way, Saebyeok finds herself laying beside Jiyeong on her bed, soft, breathing, natural.

”If you look at the city sky at night, you can’t really see the stars.” Jiyeong says suddenly, looking up at the ceiling.

Saebyeok turns to look at her. God, she’s beautiful. ”Why?”

”Air pollution.” She sighs, ”But in the countryside there’s just a thousand of them.” She turns her head towards Saebyeok. ”Whole galaxies.”

”Wow..” Saebyeok smiles faintly. “You’ve been?”

“Mm. Once. My grandma’s place. You don’t even need a flashlight, it’s that bright.”

The fairy lights buzz softly. Saebyeok shifts, propping her head on her hand so she can watch Jiyeong’s profile. “Sounds nice.”

“It is.” Jiyeong’s lips curve just a little. “I’ll take you there sometime.”

She just watches Jiyeong for a minute—her pretty face, her smile, her voice. And then it just slips out, quiet, like a whisper. ”You really are beautiful.”

Jiyeong glances at her, eyes wide for a second.

Oh, shit. But then she smiles—soft, warm, inviting.

So inviting that maybe… Saebyeok can’t help herself. She shifts closer and wraps her arms around Jiyeong’s waist, feeling her close, needing her warmth. And when she half-expects Jiyeong to pull away, she doesn’t.

Instead, Jiyeong leans in, wrapping her arms around Saebyeok’s neck. It’s soft, pliable, like pudding, and Saebyeok’s jello arms give way without thinking. Jiyeong rests her head on Saebyeok’s shoulder, and their legs tangle together almost by accident.

Sabyeok exhales, tries to steady herself, but she’s shaking.

Then Jiyeong looks up, and their faces are so, so, so close. ”What’s going on?” she whispers.

Saebyeok’s eyes sting. She can’t hold it in. ”I—fuck, I don’t know…” Her voice cracks, and the words fall apart into a shuddering sob.

”Hey, hey, it’s okay. I’m here.” Jiyeong leans in, pressing herself gently against Saebyeok, wrapping her arms tighter around her neck, brushing her back, steadying her. Her hands are warm. Saebyeok doesn’t understand why the tears are coming or why she doesn’t fight them. They just spill.

”I miss… I miss mom. I miss dad.” Her voice is muffled, buried in Jiyeong’s shoulder. ”My little brother is getting bullied and I can’t do anything… My life’s so f—fucked. ”

Jiyeong doesn’t say anything else, doesn’t try to fix it. She just holds her, rocks her slightly, brushing fingers through Saebyeok’s hair, kissing the top of her head, humming softly. The fairy lights cast a warm light in the room, the scent from the paper cups of ramyeon lingering faintly, and for the first time all day—or maybe all week—Saebyeok feels like she’s allowed to fall apart.

It’s messy, it’s too raw, it’s horrible, but Jiyeong is there. Every shuddering breath, every silent, trembling sob, Jiyeong lets it happen, lets her lean into her completely. ”It’s okay, babe. Let it out. I’m here for you.”

And somewhere between the quiet hum of the song in the background and the soft touch of Jiyeong’s lips against her hair, Saebyeok begins to feel something else—a warmth she’s been starving for, a sense that maybe she’s just not alone in this fucked up shit.

”It’s okay.” Jiyeong whispers into her hair.

Her fingers clutch at Jiyeong’s shirt, tangling in the fabric, holding on like it’s a lifeline. Jiyeong’s arms tighten around her, and Saebyeok closes her eyes, letting herself dissolve like a tablet in water, just letting the tears fall because Jiyeong is there for her and it’s okay.

Time blurs. There’s no Tuesday, no homework, no missed lunches.

After crying for what feels like forever, Saebyeok finally slows down, her face still pressed into Jiyeong’s shoulder. Jiyeong leans her cheek against Saebyeok’s forehead, keeps her hand tangled in Saebyeok’s hair.

The next morning, Saebyeok wakes up with a crick in her neck, her arm pinned under Jiyeong. She squints at the ceiling.

“…What the hell,” she mutters.

Jiyeong stirs, groaning, “Mmm… I’m comfy. Don’t move.”

Saebyeok sighs, giving up on the struggle. Her mind drifts back to the night before. Fuck. Well, that’s embarrassing. Why did she have to cry?

She searches for a reason and finds… nothing concrete. Just… everything.

Well, maybe that is a reason.

It’s 9 a.m. on a Wednesday, and somehow life feels just a little bit easier today.
Her elective on basic photography goes smoothly, and she’s done by 11. Why not? she thinks, and hops on a bus out to see Cheol, killing the rest of the day with him.

It’s like that with Thursday too. Nice. Easy. No real problems getting in the way. She’s… content. Homework’s done, she’s back in the dorm, lying on her bed and staring at the ceiling, music playing low. Stress tries to creep in anyway, but she blows it away with the vape.

It’s a new one Thanos sold her for cheap. And damn, it’s good. Smooth but heavy at the same time. She exhales slow, sending smoke rings up into the glow of the ceiling light. That’s when the door clicks open. Jiyeong slips in, but not her usual bright self. No cheeky grin, no half-sung greeting. She just sighs, drops her bag on the bed, and collapses face-first into it.

“Jiyeong?” Saebyeok says.

There’s a noise from the bed—somewhere between a hum and a groan.

“You dead or what?”

“God, I wish,” Jiyeong mumbles into the blanket.

Saebyeok snorts and sits beside her. “That bad?”

Jiyeong flips one hand in the air without looking at her. “Just… fuck everything. Burn the day. Toss it out.”

“Mm. Yeah. Thursdays, right?” She jokes.

“Exactly.”

Saebyeok takes a drag from her vape, blows a ring at the ceiling. Jiyeong glances up just long enough to grab it from her hand.

“Hey—”

Too late. She’s already fucking inhaling.

“You vape?” Saebyeok asks, a little flabbergasted. She had no idea Jiyeong did this shit.

Jiyeong exhales slow, eyes half-closed. “Not until right now. Guess I relapsed.” She flops down onto her bed again on her back, ”Wow, that’s some good nic.”

Jiyeong stretches out on her bed, eyes half-lidded, and Saebyeok watches her, noticing the small rise and fall of her chest.

“You’re ridiculous,” Saebyeok mutters, sitting on the edge of the bed, but she doesn’t move away.

“Am I?” Jiyeong smirks, taking another lazy puff before tossing the vape onto the desk. That jester-ass look is back in her eyes—ah, there she is.

Saebyeok narrows her eyes. “Don’t start.”

“What? I’m just sitting here.” Jiyeong grins, sitting up beside her.

“You’re about to be annoying.”

“Nah, relax.” Jiyeong says, glancing off to the side like she’s lost interest—then lunges, tackling Saebyeok onto the bed and going straight for her sides.

“Ah—oh my god, stop!” Saebyeok squeals, twisting and laughing as Jiyeong digs in, finding every weak spot she has. Fingers at her waist, then creeping up toward her ribs—she’s doomed.

“Where you running, huh?” Jiyeong grins, relentless.

Saebyeok tries to shove her off, but it’s useless, and—if she’s being honest—she’s not exactly giving it her all. Then Jiyeong goes for the nuclear fucking option: a quick squeeze just above the knees. Saebyeok practically yelps, gasping through laughter.

“Oh, that’s it—” She lunges back, grabbing Jiyeong’s wrists and flipping them over. The bed creaks under them as they wrestle, both laughing, both out of breath, until—somehow—Saebyeok ends up pinning her to the mattress, her legs around Saebyeok’s waist.

Everything stills for a second.

They’re both flushed, hair messy, smiling through their panting. Saebyeok can feel the heat of Jiyeong’s body under her, the way her hands are still lightly gripping her hips. The laughter fades, but neither of them moves. The mood shifts—Saebyeok feels it in her chest first, then everywhere.
It’s hot. Too hot. Her face is warm, her ears are warm, and Jiyeong’s stupid beautiful eyes are locked on hers like she’s the only person in the world. God, she’s so, so, so pretty. Jiyeong’s hand comes up, slow but sure, sliding to the back of Saebyeok’s neck. Her palm is warm. Saebyeok swears her knees almost give out even though she’s literally on the bed.

“Saebyeok…” Jiyeong whispers, and it’s soft and sweet. ”Just kiss me.”

Saebyeok can hear her heartbeat in her ears—loud, fast, uneven—and she’s so, so ready for it, even if she feels like she might pass out. It’s like they’re back at the ferris wheel all again, but now, fuck.. now there’s no hesitation.

And then—

It happens.

Finally. Finally it’s about to fucking happen.

Their breaths mingle, noses brushing, lips—

”Chica!”

The door swings open. Saebyeok freezes. That nickname. That voice. The unholy combination.

Thanos. T to the h to the fucking asshole Thanos.

Perfect timing. Their lips part just in time.

He doesn’t even knock. Doesn’t even blink. Just sits on Saebyeok’s bed, arms crossed, that stupidly focused look like he’s watching a nature documentary on mating habits.

”Fucking idiot!” Saebyeok snaps, scrambling off Jiyeong and yanking Thanos by the shirt. ”Out!”

Thanos throws up his hands, smirking. ”Hey, hey! Don’t mind me, chicas. I’m just… observational.”

Saebyeok groans and drops to the floor, face buried in her hands. Why the fuck now? Everything was finally… building.

”Seriously, Subong, leave,” Jiyeong says through gritted teeth.

”Relax,” Thanos says, leaning back like he’s in a lounge. ”I just came to check if you chicas are still up for the party tomorrow. But wow… bonus content!” He waggles his eyebrows, completely oblivious. ”This is like… an exclusive preview. Who needs Netflix?” Saebyeok peeks through her fingers. Jiyeong is glaring daggers into Thanos. ”Hmm… maybe I should write a review. Five stars for enthusiasm. Minus two for secrecy.”

“Get. The fuck. Out,” Jiyeong snaps, jabbing a finger at the door. Clear.

Thanos throws his hands up. “Alright, alright—no need to get violent.” He takes a step back, pauses in the doorway, and leans on the frame like he owns the place. “But before I go… There’s something I need.”

Saebyeok groans. “What.”

“My lighter. You took it last week.”

“I did not—”

“She did,” Jiyeong mutters, deadpan.

Saebyeok whirls on her. “Seriously?”

“Just give him the damn lighter.”

Saebyeok digs into her desk drawer, snatches it out, and throws it at his chest.
“There. Go annoy someone else.”

Thanos catches it with a grin, points at them both, and says, “Don’t let me interrupt the tension, chicas.”

The door clicks shut.

Silence.

Saebyeok stays standing, arms crossed, still hearing her own pulse pounding from… whatever the hell that almost was. Jiyeong’s lying back on her bed, staring at the ceiling like she’s refusing to acknowledge what just happened.

“You didn’t have to side with him,” Saebyeok mutters.

Jiyeong’s head rolls toward her, eyebrows drawn. “What? Over a lighter?”

“It’s not about the lighter.”

“Then what is it about?” Jiyeong pushes herself up onto her elbows.

Saebyeok exhales through her nose, sharp. “Forget it.”

“No—say it.”

“You really wanna do this now? Right after—” She cuts herself off, jaw tight.

Jiyeong shrugs, the corner of her mouth twitching in that infuriating way that makes Saebyeok want to throw something. “Guess not.”

The air between them feels heavier, hotter, but not in the good way anymore.

Saebyeok grabs her towel from the end of her bed. “I’m taking a shower.” She’s out the door before Jiyeong can say anything back.

The water’s cold, but Saebyeok is still burning up. Just when she thought the day might be easy, nope—another problem. Jesus Christ, she needs to figure out what the actual fuck is going on with her and Jiyeong, because this back-and-forth is driving her insane. And the worst part is that Jiyeong acts like it’s fucking nothing, like it’s just another Tuesday or some shit. Is this… normal?

She lets out a frustrated groan, letting the water pound down her back, trying to wash off the anger, the frustration, the heat coiling in her fucking chest.

Yeah, maybe she’s angrier than she should be, she shouldn’t really have raised her voice at Jiyeong—but she’s on her period and goddamn it, she’s allowed to be pissed. And now Thanos’ infuriating smirk is stuck in her head, the memory of him teasing them, and the memory of nearly kissing Jiyeong again—the girl she actually likes—is playing on loop in her brain.

Maybe she’s kinda looking forward to tomorrow—getting shitfaced, forgetting everything for a little while. Yeah. Definitely.

“So, how about this top?” Junhee spins in front of the mirror, tugging at the hem. “It kinda goes well with the bump, right?”

Semi hums, running a hand over her waist before pulling her closer. “Yeah, babe. Looks good.”

They smile, they kiss. Back together. Just like that. Apparently all is forgiven about Junhee crawling out of Myunggi’s room, what, four days ago?

Saebyeok tips her head forward and groans. Why the fuck does it take this long to get ready for a party? A tacky-ass Thanos party, no less.

All the girls are crammed into Junhee and Mina’s dorm which is very… girly. Almost too girly.

Mina’s perched on the floor cross-legged, carefully applying lip gloss, looking like she’s about to war. She used to date Thanos, but then Namgyu came in the picture, so tonight she’s going tonight to get her revenge. Saebyeok can’t wait to see whatever chaos she’s planning. It’s funny, her and Thanos were such a ridiculous couple. Both are dumb as rocks they didn’t really balance each other out, they fought over the most stupid shit and they would constantly cheat on each other. The final straw was though, that night Mina came home to see Thanos absolutely railing Namgyu on the couch. Not cuddling, not flirting—full-blown ass-out cardio. And that’s when she decided it was enough, and broke up with him.

She dumped him on the spot and told literally everyone the next morning. Now the whole school knows, and honestly? Thank God for Mina. Girl did public service. That shit was funny as hell. The guys didn’t exactly come out of it looking good, but honestly? Namgyu deserves it for being a smug prick to literally everyone. And Thanos… well, he’s Thanos. Enough said.

Mina dabs highlighter across Jiyeong’s cheekbone and squeals, ”Ji-tokki~ look at this face! Straight-up art.”

Jiyeong snorts, rolling her eyes but smiling anyway. “Girl, have you seen you?”

Saebyeok watches from the side, biting back a laugh. Mina’s ridiculous nicknames always get her — the girl has one for everyone and everything. Last week she called her a ”little rock” just because Saebyeok was sitting too still.

Saebyeok smiles and takes a hit of her vape.

”Oh! Almost forgot.” Mina pipes up, grinning. ”Anyone wanna pregame?” She winks and pulls out a small baggie of white powder. Saebyeok blinks. Coke? Really?

Semi stiffens, arms crossed. ”Not me. Junhee can’t have anything, so I won’t either.”

Mina just laughs. “Relax. I’m only sharing if you wanna play too.” She opens the baggie, divides it into four small lines, rolls up a dollar bill, and sniffs, groaning. ”Ooooh, Thanos is really in for it tonight! Who’s next?”

Jiyeong, who had been leaning against the bed, suddenly leans in, doing a line herself, before groaning out loud, sniffing. ”Wow!”

…What the fuck?

Why?

”Jiyeong!” Saebyeok yelps a little, ”Why’d you do that?”

Jiyeong smiles, her ears red, ”Oh come on! It’s just a little pick-me-up for the party! No worries.”

Saebyeok’s shoulders relax a little, her head kinda stops spinning for a moment, maybe she’s right…

Yeah..

No worries.

Without thinking, Saebyeok leans in, does a line herself.

Shit. It’s been a long time.

The familiar burn hits her head and spreads through her body, buzzing, buzzing, waking every nerve. She tilts her head back, and suddenly the LED lights on the ceiling are stars, spinning and pulsing. She’s grinning, dizzy, and then Jiyeong’s hand is there, pulling her to her feet. They dance to Mina’s music playing in the background — some wild, rave-y shit that doesn’t make sense but somehow fits.

The world pauses.

And then — snap — she’s not in the dorm anymore. She’s had a few shots, she’s in makeup, jewelry clinking. Mina on one side, Jiyeong on the other. All three of them coked up, giggling too loud, stumbling down the street toward Thanos’s apartment like it’s the fucking Oscars while Junhee and Semi trail behind, laughing at the spectacle.

At some point, Mina and Jiyeong clearly attacked her face because Saebyeok’s got eyeliner sharp enough to stab a man and silver earrings that definitely aren’t hers.

“Over there’s the party, guys!” Mina shrieks, pointing dramatically like a drunk pirate, before taking off at full sprint. “I’m gonna fuck him up!”

Saebyeok and Jiyeong double over laughing, nearly tripping as they stumble through the apartment door. Heat, bass, weed smoke, stale beer. The holy trinity of college party stink. Seconds later, crash. The music cuts. And then—blasting through the speakers—is a song so fucking bad it could legally be classified as psychological warfare.

“Oh my god,” Saebyeok mutters.

In the living room, Mina’s got the aux. Her phone is plugged in, and she’s wheezing so hard she might choke. “Everyone!” she shouts, waving her arms at everyone. “This is a song Thanos wrote for meee!”

The room erupts. Because yeah, it’s bad. Horrible. Thanos’s voice—deep, sultry, trying way too hard—oozes through the speakers.

“Girl, your love is my destinyyyy,
Come sit on my galaxyyy…”

“Oh my fucking god,” Saebyeok groans, holding Jiyeong up so she doesn’t fall from how much she’s laughing.

Goddamn this prank is good.

Phones are out. People are recording. Mina is cackling like a witch. It’s fucking beautiful. And then—of course—Thanos comes bursting in, face red, veins popping.

He storms across the room, shoving through people, and rips the aux cord out. The room goes dead silent except for Mina’s hysterical laughter along with some other people. Thanos facepalms, dragging his hand down his already crimson face. “Minaaaaaa!” His voice cracks. “You fucking bitch!”

Mina doubles over, clutching her stomach, wheezing. “Ohhh, don’t be mad, baby! It’s your magnum opus!”

Someone in the back yells, “Play it again!” The crowd laughs again. Phones are everywhere now, flashes going off like paparazzi.

Thanos looks two seconds away from combusting. “Delete it. Delete it right now.”

Mina just grins, slow and evil. “Sweetheart… it’s already on my Insta story.”
She dangles her phone in front of his face like bait, then whips it out of reach the second he lunges. Too quick. She’s slippery, slipping back into the crowd like a pro.

“Namgyu saw it already too!” she shouts over her shoulder, just to twist the knife.

Thanos whirls, searching—sure enough, Namgyu is across the room, doubled over laughing, phone in hand. He points right at Thanos and practically wheezes, “Hyung, that’s your voice!?”

”Get outta my house Mina I didn’t even invite you!” He yells after her. Thanos freezes, chest heaving, his ears practically purple. “What are you all looking at, huh!?” he explodes, glaring at everyone like it’s their fault his mixtape of love-cringe is public property now. He yanks the aux back in, blasting whatever lame playlist was on before Mina ruined his night.

Saebyeok smirks, watching Thanos storm off, and when she glances back, Jiyeong’s already skipping toward the kitchen like it’s her personal playground.
Of course she is. Saebyeok trails after, slipping an arm around her waist to keep Jiyeong steady—though honestly, she’s not exactly steady herself. Coke buzzing in her head, blood fizzing in her veins. There’s gotta be something magic about this shit. She feels… alive. Too alive.

The kitchen’s chaos—red cups everywhere, sticky counters, someone chanting for shots. Jiyeong’s grinning like an idiot, tugging bottles off the table, and soon they’re both clinking cups, tossing liquor back like water. One, two, three—it all blurs.

They drink, drink, drink the night away. The living room is a sweaty mess of bodies, people jumping and shouting to some overplayed pop hit, voices cracking, laughter echoing. Lights flash, bass rattles the floor.

The lights flicker red, and suddenly she’s in a corner with Jiyeong pinned against the wall. Her head’s spinning, the room’s tilting. Her lips drag along Jiyeong’s jawline, grazing soft skin. Jiyeong gasps, sharp and shaky, and it’s so hot—too hot—Saebyeok feels the heat knotting low in her stomach, curling tight, and she knows she wants Jiyeong. She wants her so bad.

The lights flicker yellow, and now she’s in the bathroom, slumped against the sink. Her body’s heavy, stomach rolling, throat burning. She’s this close to puking. The shower’s running, and some guy’s half-sprawled in it, water pouring over his clothes, his hair plastered to his face. He’s gone, out cold. Saebyeok laughs at the fucking sight. Ridiculous.

The lights flicker green, and she’s back in the kitchen. Alone. Jiyeong’s gone. Where the fuck did she go? Saebyeok grabs a cup, splashes vodka with soda, Jiyeong’s favorite, and stumbles off to find her.

Then the lights flicker blue.

Saebyeok freezes in the hallway.

Jiyeong.

Standing there at the far end, pressed close to some guy. Hugging. Smiling.

And then—slow, too slow, like the universe is dragging it the fuck out—Jiyeong leans in. Jiyeong and the guy’s lips meet. Soft, deliberate. A kiss. Then another. Then deeper, their mouths slotting together like they’ve fucking done it before.

Saebyeok’s cup slips from her hand and the vodka splashes across the floor, soaking her shoes.

The world turns, the air goes stale. Her stomach flips. Rises. Threatens to spill everything she’s ever eaten.

She’s going to fucking throw up.

When the lights flicker purple, she’s outside. Bent over the curb, puking her fucking guts out. What. The. Actual. Fuck.

Her stomach clenches, heaves until there’s nothing left. Her throat burns, her eyes sting, tears streaming hot down her face. She wipes her mouth with the back of her hand, but it doesn’t help—she feels filthy, inside and out.

A concerned voice cuts through her spinning world. “Saebyeok? What the hell are you doing out here?”

She blinks up and sees Semi and Junhee hovering, faces tight with worry.

“Are you… crying?” Junhee asks, frowning.

She shakes her head violently, but the tears keep coming. “I… I just… I can’t—” Her words choke off. She needs to get the fuck out of there.

Before she even knows it, her feet are carrying her away. Away from the party, away from the music and the lights and Jiyeong and that fucking kiss. Back toward the dorm, wobbling, wiping at her face, gasping for air.

Fuck. She can’t do this shit. Not tonight. Not ever, maybe.

Why the fuck did Jiyeong kiss that guy?

And worse—why did it look like they were in-fucking-love? Like they had been before?

She wipes her face with the back of her hand, vision blurry, chest tight. Just gotta get to the dorm. Just gotta get to bed. Safe. Alone.

Her legs drag like cement, every step heavier than the last. She fumbles down the hall, the door’s right there—almost there—

And then it all goes black.

She’s gone before she ever makes it to her bed.

Chapter Text

Head pounding, Saebyeok cracks her eyes open and knows she’s fucked. She’s on her stomach, drooling into a pillow. The second she tries to push herself up, the world tilts, her stomach lurches, and she barely makes it to the trashcan before throwing up.

Fucking awesome…

Her stomach hates her. Her head hates her. Everything hates her. She wishes someone would just finish her off now and get it over with.

When the blur finally fades from her vision, it hits her—this isn’t her dorm. Not even close. Her panic spikes, and then the door creaks open. She’s slumped on the floor, eyeliner smeared down her cheek, hair a complete disaster.

“Saebyeok,” a voice says. Calm. Familiar.

Minsu. Standing there quiet like a ghost.

“You’re awake.”

Saebyeok drags a hand through her knotted hair. ”How did I end up here?” She slurs.

Minsu cracks a small smile. ”You just opened my door and crashed in my bed.”

Saebyeok sighs. Shit, what was in that coke?

“What happened last night?” Minsu asks. His voice is careful. He sets a cold water bottle beside her and lowers himself onto the floor across from her. “You look…” He trails off.

She shuts her eyes, tries to rewind the tape in her head. It’s all smudged—lines of coke, shots, music pounding through her bones, then—

“Jiyeong.” The name slips out before she can stop it, more to herself than to him.

Minsu frowns. “Did… something happen with her?”

And then it’s there again, full-color in her mind—Jiyeong pressed against some guy, their mouths locked. Saebyeok’s stomach twists. Her chest caves in. Her limbs go numb.

Fuck. It’s all coming back.

Jiyeong is in love with someone else. With a dude.

But she wont say that to Minsu. Can’t. Her eyes dart around the room like there might be an excuse written on the walls. “Nah, it’s okay. Just got too shitfaced.”

Minsu nods, slow. He knows. She knows he knows she’s lying.

She grabs the water bottle and chugs it, fucking life support. When it’s empty, she tosses it into the trashcan already full of her stomach acid. Cute..

“Sorry ’bout that. I’ll throw it out.”

“It’s okay.”

Saebyeok sighs, leaning back, pressing her knuckles into her temples trying to rub the pounding out of her skull. Then her phone buzzes.

A text. From her boss.

Come in for a shift today?

Apparently the fast food joint has some new limited-edition burger for halloween or whatever, and they’re short-staffed. Perfect. She’ll take anything if it means making some cash. And getting yesterday the fuck out of her head.

“Thanks for letting me crash, Minsu,” she rasps, voice shredded. She doesn’t have the energy to be louder.

”It’s no problem, friend.” He smiles. ”Oh, it’s 8.30 by the way, if you’re gonna be late to your job or whatever.”

”Thanks.”

She wraps the trash up in a knot and wobbly walks out of the dorm. How the hell did she end up here instead of her own damn dorm?

She throws the trash, takes a shower, and forces herself to get ready to change clothes. What if Jiyeong’s in there? What the fuck does she say? Does Jiyeong know Saebyeok saw her yesterday with that guy?

But the shoes aren’t aligned outside. She’s not in the dorm.

Fuck… what if she’s with him? Saebyeok’s chest tightens, but she grits her teeth, shoves the thought aside, and pulls out her work clothes from the back of the closet. Headphones in. Playlist blasting. Hard rock. Metal. What she needs right now.

The bus ride costs 2,000 won. She’s got about 50,000 in her pocket. If she’s careful — no vapes, no stupid extras — she’ll be okay. A shift nets 120,000. Survival.

She almost misses her stop. The bus is packed, and she jumps out, shoving through the crowd. The shop is chaos incarnate. Holy shit. This is going to be a nightmare.


Kang Saebyeok is a decent human being. She keeps to herself, cleans her messes, is moderately nice to people.

But.

Todays work is a fucking exception. As soon as she steps behind the counter, every type of nightmare customer hits her at once. The middle-aged guy ordering pickles on literally everything. The teen insisting it’s their birthday, waving a crumpled ID like it’s a magic fucking wand hoping for a discount. The angry mom who’s been standing in line since forever, practically breathing fire. And the guy—the guy who thinks throwing disgustingly flirty lines to her on the counter is the same as charm.

Her mask slips.

Her hand hurts from punching him square in his ugly face, and she’s slumped in the backroom, forehead against the cold wall. The hum of the freezers, the faint smell of burnt fries, the ticking clock… all of it messes with her head. All her poor life decisions flash through her brain at once, each one more goddamn ridiculous than the last.

She got pulled in by her manager when the guy started screaming and bleeding from his nose. Well, shit. There goes this job.

She didn’t mean to hit him that hard, but the anger had just… taken over. Her veins felt like molten lava, every heartbeat a hammer. She tries to calm herself, to breathe, but the heat in her chest doesn’t fade.

“Kang Saebyeok,” her manager’s voice snaps her out of the spiral. She turns, eyes still hot. He looks angry—she deserves it. “If you’re wondering, you’re not fired. You’re behind the stove for the rest of the day. Pull your goddamn shit together and get out here now.”

She swallows hard, letting the last bit of lava settle as she drags herself toward the kitchen. Fryers hiss, spatulas clang, and the smell of grease fills her nose. She grits her teeth. Okay. Work. Focus. Survive.

By the time she’s done, sweat is dripping from her forehead and her hands still smell like fryer oil. She’s pretty sure her coworkers are scared shitless of her. She lets out a slow breath, trying to calm the leftover storm in her chest. God, work is exhausting—but at least it distracted her enough not to think too much about shit. Saebyeok feels like she’s been run over by an actual bus. She grabs her bag, slinging it over her shoulder, and steps outside into the night. The air is cool, smells like rain and exhaust, and for a second, she just… breathes. She slumps onto a nearby bench, tapping her foot against the pavement, headphones blasting metal, whatever keeps her from thinking too much.

Her phone buzzes. Once. Twice. She ignores it. Turns the volume up on the music.

But shit, curiosity killed the cat. She picks it up and opens the two new messages.

And yeah, it’s who she expected.

Jiyeong 22:12

Saebyeok where u at?
Haven’t seen u all day lol

She stares at the screen a little too long, her thumb hovering above the keyboard. The words ’I saw you’ almost make it out, almost get sent — but no. She locks the phone, shoves it deep in her jacket pocket. Her heart is hammering way too fast for someone who just finished a shift.

She sighs, runs a cold hand through her hair. The fuck is this? Why is she acting like this? Like shit’s fine?

She must know she did something wrong, right?

Right…?

Leaves stick to her shoes as she walks, wet and muddy. The air is cold and cruel against her nose and ears, and the street is dark and gray. Everything feels heavy and damp as she makes her way home.

Sometime later, she’s outside the dorm, staring at the perfectly aligned shoes in the hall. Her pulse is hammering in her throat.

Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck.

On the last fuck, she twists the handle.

And of course — it’s exactly how she expected. Jiyeong is in her chair, spinning lazily, two burgers balanced on the desk.

“Where’ve you been all day?” Jiyeong asks, turning toward her, one leg crossed over the other like nothing’s wrong. “You didn’t answer my texts or calls.”

Saebyeok exhales, drops onto the bed. She doesn’t have the energy to fight. “Work.”

That single word is a quiet and clear indication that she’s got no energy for more conversation. Jiyeong must notice, because she goes quiet too. For a moment, the room is just the hum of the mini-fridge and Saebyeok’s ragged breathing. Then Jiyeong speaks again.

“Y’know, Junhee told me she and Semi saw you crying at the party.”

Saebyeok’s stomach twists. Images flood back — bile, tears, her face burning. Jiyeong’s lips on him.

She keeps her eyes down, staring at the floorboards. Defeated.

“No,” she mutters, forcing her voice flat. “I just got too shitfaced and passed out.”

She forces a fake smile and stares Jiyeong dead in the eye, even though it almost fucking hurts her soul.

Jiyeong nods slowly. “Alright… Did you eat today?”

“Yeah.” She hadn’t. Just shoved some fries in her mouth during her shift when no one was looking. Thinking about food now makes her stomach churn. A warning.

She sighs and sinks into her pillow.

“Guess I’ll eat these two burgers by myself, then,” Jiyeong says, sing-song, like she’s in a joking mood. Saebyeok doesn’t have the energy to even fake a laugh. Her brain’s basically on strike.

She slumps under the blankets, earbuds in, volume cranked. Hard rock. Anything loud enough to drown out her own thoughts. But it doesn’t work. It never works.

Lips. Lips. Lips. Fucking everywhere. Pressed together. Tongues. The hallway. Dim lights. That guy. Jiyeong oblivious. Passionate. Smiling at a guy who isn’t her. Her stomach twists into a knot so tight it feels like someone’s using her intestines as jump ropes. Her legs go numb, then tingly, then basically useless. She wants to curl up and disappear into the floor, but her body doesn’t even obey.

The room spins. She’s pretty sure the ceiling’s laughing at her.

Then… nothing.

She wakes up soaked in cold sweat. Heart hammering like it’s trying to escape her ribcage. Darkness. Silence. Even the mini-fridge hum feels like a mocking chant: loser, loser, loser.

05:21.

Shit. Of course it’s fucking 5:21. She’s officially awake for the next three hours. Might as well stare at the ceiling and count the damn dust specks.

But she doesn’t. She puts on her clothes and steps outside in the fresh, cold morning air of a Sunday in fall.

Jiyeong loved her mom. Loved her like the sun loves the morning. She was the center of everything, the light that made the world feel okay. Single child, cozy house, parents who loved her. Simple life. Normal life.

But thinking back it hits her like a fist to the gut. Dancing in the living room to some cheesy pop song, flipping pancakes together, even the little scoldings when she got mischievous and shit. All of it—gone. Never again.

She exhales, glances at Saebyeok’s empty bed. Seven in the morning and she’s out. Kang Saebyeok. What a fucking girl.

Her dad was a devoted man. Jiyeong was a believer too. Until that night.

She still smells it. Her mom’s blood. Still sees it. Dad standing over her, knife in hand, muttering prayers to some god like it would fix everything.

That was the moment she stopped believing.

Rage and red and anguish had bubbled up in her chest. She could have grabbed a knife, plunged it straight into his heart. But she didn’t. She called the cops. Let them take him away.

She hasn’t seen the man who raised her since that day in court. Just him, praying. Said he did it because her mother was “filled with sin” and he needed to… cleanse her.

The jury bought his insanity act.

Twenty years. With the chance of parole.

What a fucking joke.

Piece of shit doesn’t deserve a day out. Should’ve rotted behind bars his whole life.

Her phone buzzes. She picks it up and sees his name and immediately wants to throw it across the room.

Daeho 07:12

So, you wanna talk about what happened?

Shitface. Fuck this. They’d been on and off forever since college started, and the last time they broke up, it was supposed to be done, over, finished. But of course he had to contact her last week when things were great with Saebyeok. Of course she had to be such a fucking mess that she ended up doing the one thing she swore she wouldn’t—hooking up with him when she was drunk.

She runs a hand down her face and presses her forehead against the cool wall, trying to erase the night from her skull. She doesn’t know if she should tell Saebyeok. She wants to, part of her does, but another part knows it would hurt her, hurt her in a way that no apology could fix. Right now, she’s just… grateful. Saebyeok doesn’t know. Not yet. And maybe, for this one small moment, that’s enough.

The door creaks, quiet as a mouse as Saebyeok trails in.

Jiyeong’s chest tightens. She smiles, sits up a little straighter on the bed. The smell hits her first—her natural scent, that nice deodorant she always uses, that faint tang of whatever energy drink she probably chugged recently and cigarette smoke. Jeez. It’s… intoxicating, Jiyeong has to fight the urge to just lean into it.

Expecting a “good morning,” or something. Something normal. Something not… whatever this is.

But Saebyeok doesn’t even look at her. Just slides onto the chair at the desk, boots scraping lightly against the floor, and flips open the school computer.

Jiyeong’s smile dies. Slowly, painfully. “Checking our schedule?” she asks, her voice a little too casual. A little too hopeful.

Saebyeok hums.

That’s it. Just a hum. Nothing else. No acknowledgment. No warmth. Just hum.

Jiyeong wants to crawl under the bed, slam it shut, throw her pillow across the room, or maybe just cry quietly into her hands. Instead, she just exhales, long and shaky, and lets herself fall back onto the mattress. Maybe sleep will take her. Maybe it won’t. Doesn’t matter.

The rest of the day drags. Quiet. Slow. Empty and it gnaws at her ADHD ass. Saebyeok is gone for most of it—off to visit Cheol, apparently.
Jiyeong had asked if she could come along, maybe tag along for the walk at least. But Saebyeok shot her down so fast, no explanation, just a sharp no that had stung more than Jiyeong wanted to admit.

Damn. That honestly hurt.

She kind of misses Cheol, too.

She just fucking does not get Saebyeok right now. Something’s off. Like, seriously off.

Something must’ve gone down at the party… something Jiyeong missed.

She chews at the edge of her nail, ruining the polish she just put on last night. Great. Another thing she fucked up. What if… what if Saebyeok actually saw her with Daeho? What if she’s pretending it didn’t happen, just playing it cool?

No. That’s dumb. Saebyeok’s always been distant, cagey, hard to read. That’s her whole deal.

Still… it’s weird. Jiyeong swears they were getting closer. Not just in her head—for real. She remembers the night Saebyeok cried into her chest, voice breaking as she finally let the walls down and spilled some of the family shit she carried like chains. Actual tears. Actual vulnerability. Jiyeong had held onto that moment like it was sacred, proof that maybe she mattered, proof that Saebyeok trusted her.

Now it feels like she imagined the whole thing.

It’s late. Jiyeong’s buried in her English essay, the pen scratches like a desperate heartbeat against the paper. The sentences blur after a while, words running together, but she keeps going. Saebyeok is in her bed, legs crossed, sketching on the nature project they have due til tomorrow, headphones in. Calm, impossible calm.

A knock at the door.

Jiyeong freezes. Heart spikes like a cheap horror movie jump cut. She swears she can hear the blood rushing in her ears.

Probably Mina, right? She said she wanted to come over to test lashes yesterday.

But the pause stretches. The knock comes again, louder this time. Like it’s… not Mina.

“Saebyeok, can you get the door?” Jiyeong blurts, trying to keep her voice casual, but the words are sticky, weird.

Saebyeok doesn’t even glance up from her sketchbook. She sets it down with this slow, deliberate precision, stands, heavy steps, like she’s moving through water. Jiyeong watches her go, every heartbeat hammering, stomach twisting.

The door swings open.

“Hello,” a voice says.

It’s Daeho. Of course it’s Daeho. Fucking fantastic.

Jiyeong’s chest tightens. She can feel her entire body tense—legs, arms, even the tips of her fingers. She swallows, tries to act like she’s not about to disappear into the floor. Saebyeok stands rigid beside her, arms crossed, expression unreadable.

Daeho’s smirk hits the room first. That smug, too-sure-of-himself smirk. He doesn’t even notice the tension clearly radiating off Saebyeok. Jiyeong wants to die. Wants to grab a pillow and hide under the bed. Maybe fling a lamp across the room while she’s fucking at it.

“Hey,” he says again, casual, like he hasn’t just waltzed into a goddamn battlefield.

Saebyeok blinks once, then looks him up and down. Her lips twitch, like she’s holding back a laugh. Not a friendly laugh. A 'you’re pathetic, and I know it' laugh.

“You know,” she says slowly, voice sharp, measured, “you’ve got pretty terrible taste.”

Jiyeong wants to laugh, to cry, scream, to sink into the floor. Saebyeok knows.

Saebyeok doesn’t move an inch. Arms crossed, gaze unwavering, like she’s daring him to say something back. Jiyeong’s brain goes into overdrive: if he says something stupid, she’ll laugh. If he tries to charm, Saebyeok will destroy him. If… oh god, just make it stop.

Her throat is bone dry. Dirt dry.

”Can I talk to Jiyeong—”

A fist smashes into his cheekbone. Hard.

He staggers back, lips trembling.

”I saw you! Every damn second! You two-faced fucking—!” Saebyeok screams into the air. She hears other students coming out to see what all the commotion is about. Saebyeok doesn’t even look at Daeho anymore because he's gone. The fucking coward. Her eyes are burning into Jiyeong.

Jiyeong freezes. Heart in her throat.

”Saebyeok, it’s not like that—”

”Don’t you dare lie to me!” Saebyeok cuts her off, spinning, shaking, pointing a finger like it’s a weapon. ”I opened up! I let you meet my brother! I trusted you! I—fuck! I—” Her voice cracks. Tears form in the corners of her beautiful, violent eyes.

Jiyeong takes a small step, hand trembling as it reaches out. It’s slapped away violently.

”And now? You’re just acting like nothing happened? Like I don’t matter? You’re a fucking fraud, Jiyeong! A fucking fraud! I’m done.” She yanks her jacket on, grabs her bag. ”Done with you.” She points a trembling finger at Jiyeong. ”Done!” Her chest heaves. Every word is a punch.

Jiyeong can’t breathe. Her eyes sting. She tries to speak, to say something, anything, but her throat has turned to sandpaper.

And then—slam. The door. Shuts.

The room is suddenly quiet. Too quiet.

Jiyeong collapses onto the floor. Legs crumpled, arms wrapped around herself. The tears come anyway, violent and uncontrolled, soaking her palms, running down her arms. She doesn’t try to stop them. She can’t…

Pathetic.

The quiet hum of her desk lamp, the faint tick of the clock—it all presses against her chest. And she thinks that maybe this is all she deserves.

Chapter Text

A fraud.

Fraud.

A fucking fraud.

That’s what she is. What Saebyeok called her. What she is.

Saebyeok had opened up, let her in, trusted her—and Jiyeong went and fucked it all up.

Daeho.

Drunk.

Stupid.

Lips she shouldn’t have kissed.

Hands she shouldn’t have let linger.

Fucking genius, Jiyeong. Absolute genius.

While it hurt like knives when Saebyeok was screaming at her, it’s worse now. The silence.

She’s still on the floor. Tears drying sticky on her cheeks, nose clogged, chest burning. All she can hear is the echo of that door slamming shut, over and over, like it hasn’t stopped.

Why the fuck did she do it? Why couldn’t she just keep her shit together for once?

She can still see Daeho’s face in her mind on that night, cheeky and inviting. Intriguing and familiar. She shouldn’t have kissed him, shouldn’t have slept with him.

But she did it anyway.

And now shit is fucked up.

She stares at Saebyeok’s empty bed and the shit she’d left behind on her nightstand. A half-empty water bottle. Her sketchbook. The pencil she always chewed the ends of. All of it sitting there just empty. Proof that Jiyeong had fucked up the one thing that mattered.

Her chest tightens. She wants to text her. Wants to run after her. Wants to say anything that might make it right. But what’s the point? What can she even say—sorry I used your trust as a punching bag? sorry I thought some loser’s lips mattered more than you?

Her phone buzzes again.

Of course it does.

Daeho.

She doesn’t even open it. Just flips the phone face down on the mattress and lets out a laugh so bitter it burns her throat.

The rest of the night she tosses and turns, hugging her pillow for some sort of comfort, hating, hating, hating herself for what she’d done so carelessly.

By the time exhaustion finally drags her under, the sun is already bleeding through the blinds.

To say Monday mornings are a nightmare would be a damn understatement.

They’re hell.

Jiyeong drags herself out of the dorm room to her math lesson, dark circles under her eyes and a sour taste in her mouth from not brushing her teeth last night. Every step feels like she’s walking through cement.

She keeps her head down on the walk across campus. Coffee cups, groups of students laughing too loud, the morning air way too crisp for the way her body feels. Every pair of eyes feels like they know. Like they can see the word fraud written across her forehead in neon fucking paint.

When she finally slides into a seat at the back of the lecture hall, her eyelids are heavy, but her mind won’t shut up long enough to actually sleep.

Jiyeong was always a loud kid. Teachers used to send letters home complaining she was disrupting lessons in third grade. Didn’t help that her father was Hwan Kim—the devoted pastor who spent his whole life physically and emotionally abusing her and her mother… until he snapped and murdered his wife.

She can still remember the sting of a rough hand colliding with her cheek whenever something happened, like accidentally dropping a glass or getting below a B on a test. Or the bruises she’d get when her father would push her down the stairs of their house. And she can still see the creepy painting of Jesus Christ staring her down menacingly when she was on the toilet, like he was observing her wherever. Whenever.

Her mother would sometimes stand up for her, but Jiyeong would see how scared her mother was of her husband.

She would hear screams from her late at night, or see her bleeding on the floor the morning before Hwan had left for church.

Fucking ironic, right?

Jiyeong had always watched other kids with their dads, laughing, being hugged, being told they were loved. And she’d always wondered—why the fuck wasn’t her dad like that? Why wasn’t he soft? Caring? Why wasn’t he human at all?

After her mom died and her dad went to prison, she was too old to live with any relatives, so they put her in a group home for young adults.

Loud, chaotic, fucked-up delinquents and junkies everywhere, screaming, banging, living like animals. She learned quick: survive or get crushed. Her bunk was tiny, squeezed in the middle of a cold room with people snoring all around her.

That was when she’d met Daeho.

He felt safe, controlled.

So they dated.

But after a while, things fell apart, they fell apart. Jiyeong had been ecstatic when she got into college, scored a dorm. Finally, something good, new.

But now…

Things aren’t all that great.

She sighs deeply into the sleeve of her hoodie when someone taps gently on her shoulder. She lifts her head and sees Junhee smiling down at her.

”You seem really tired today, unnie,” Junhee says, her smile soft, concerned.

Jiyeong exhales, glancing back at the professor droning on about equations, then back at Junhee. ”I am.”

Junhee nods, turning back to her notes. Pens scratch, keys clack, the projector hums at the front of the hall like a swarm of bees in Jiyeong’s skull. She can’t focus.

“I heard about what happened with Saebyeok,” Junhee says suddenly, quiet but sharp enough to slice right through the noise.

Jiyeong’s stomach drops. Her heart flips upside down and rattles against her ribs.

Her hands won’t stop shaking.

”Look…” She starts, gathering her breath, ”You don’t know what happened.”

“I don’t have to,” Junhee says, her voice softer now. “You think I don’t know what it’s like to screw everything up with someone who means the world to you? I used to go back to my ex even when I swore to Semi I was done with him. Over and over again. It’s like some part of you wants to hurt yourself.”

Jiyeong blinks at her. Junhee’s just doodling absently on the edge of her paper now, casual, like she didn’t just open a door Jiyeong’s been too afraid to touch.

“And Semi still forgave you?” Jiyeong asks before she can stop herself.

Junhee lets out a little laugh, quiet and tired. “Yeah. Eventually. But I had to forgive myself first, you know?”

Jiyeong considers the words.

“Jiyeong-ah.” Junhee’s voice is so soft it almost gets swallowed by the sound of the projector, but Jiyeong hears it. Feels it.

When she looks up, Junhee’s eyes are wide open, sharp but warm, like she’s looking straight through all the bullshit and right into Jiyeong’s chest.

“You’ve gotta love yourself before you can love anyone else.”

Jiyeong just stares at nothing. Stares until her throat burns and her chest feels too tight. The heavy words sit in her throat like a rock she can’t quite swallow.

She finally looks at Junhee, whose eyes are now warm, inviting.

And the rock is coming up. And it’s up.

Her breath jerks. Tears start forming at the corners of her eyes.

She quickly wipes at them, trying to stop them from coming, but her head feels hot and her nose starts running a little.

Junhee rubs at her back, soothing.

“Sorry— I don’t know why I’m…” Jiyeong starts.

“It’s okay.” Junhee says softly, continuing to rub her back. “When is it not normal to see a girl crying after a breakup?” She jokes, chuckling a little.

Something in Jiyeong loosens at that. She sniffles, but manages a small smile.

The rest of the lesson goes pretty slow, if she’ll say so herself. She’s gotten past without too many people staring or asking why she was crying.

By the time the bell rings, her chest feels a little lighter — sore, but lighter.

I was following the,
I was following the,
I was following the,
I was following the pack, all swallowed in their coats
With scarves of red tied ’round their throats

The music is soft, floating through her headphones as she leans back in her chair.

’You’ve gotta love yourself before you can love anyone else.’

The words, the words, the words — they loop in her mind, as constant as her own breathing. She can’t get them out.

But how do you love yourself when you basically have no knowledge of ever being loved? Her mother was lovely, and she taught her how to be a good person, but her father kind of stripped her of any good she had in her at that age. Taught her that she was a worthless piece of sin and she needed to be ’’cleansed’’.

And then she got hit.

That was it.

Nothing else. No fatherly love, no safety. Just a little girl who was too scared to even walk in her own house, where’s she’s supposed to feel safe and loved and warm.

So now she wonders if she’ll ever be able to love someone enough to not let them down. Like she did with Saebyeok — wonderful, talented, pretty, cool, kind, and loving Saebyeok
Jiyeong dozes off and dreams of her. Saebyeok’s warm, dry hand in her own in the ferris wheel and her red flushed cheeks as they leaned in to kiss. Her expression when Jiyeong had gathered the courage to just say the words — ’kiss me’. The late nights they stayed up joking, laughing.

Her heart aches as she thinks of the her.

The week goes by too slow, and Jiyeong hasn’t seen Saebyeok. Either something happened, or she’s just really good at avoiding her.

Jiyeong buries her face in her hands and groans.

”Cheer up, Ji-tokki.” Mina says, handing her the boba drink she bought earlier. Spending the day and going on a shopping spree with Mina didn’t really cheer her up as much as she thought it would.

She sips it, chews on the pearls.

The mall light is too bright.

”Still thinking of her?” Mina asks. When Jiyeong doesn’t answer, Mina shrugs. ”Girl, forget her. Plenty of fish in the sea.”

The fountain splashes loudly behind them.

Mina nudges her. ”See that girl over there? Been eyeballing you.”

Jiyeong rolls her eyes, shoving Mina’s hand away. ”Stop, alright? It’s not funny.”

Mina sighs. ”I just don’t get why you’re still so hung up on that. Just forget it.”

There’s a pause. Jiyeong’s jaw tightens, eyes fixed on the fountain until they blur.

”I’m going to make it better,” she says finally. It’s not a plea, not a hope—just a fact. ”Okay? I will.”

”Alright.” Mina says in a sing-song voice, like she doesn’t quite buy it.

Jiyeong just scoffs and keeps chewing her pearls.

They spend the rest of the day drifting through the mall — eating, laughing halfheartedly, buying stupid little things just to fill the bags. In a beauty store, Jiyeong’s steps slow. Her eyes catch on a box of hair dye, the model on the front smiling with a perfect, shiny new life.

She stares too long.

Damn. That’s… tempting.

Mina comes up behind her, quiet, almost like she’s read her mind. ”I’ll help you.”

Jiyeong takes the box delicately, like it might shatter.

Hell yeah.

”Your hair is so beautiful, Jiyeong.” Her mom’s soft voice is right in her ear as she runs the brush through her hair, careful and slow.

Jiyeong swings her feet back and forth in the air — they don’t reach the floor yet. She’s still small, but she’s getting there. Almost seven. Tomorrow she’s starting first grade, and she feels so proud just thinking about it. All her pens are lined neatly on her desk, her pink backpack is sitting beside her bed with all her notebooks and sketchbooks, and her mom is brushing her hair into two perfect little braids at her sides, so it will curl while she sleeps.

The sound of the bristles is quiet, rhythmic. Her mom hums under her breath, some soft tune Jiyeong knows but can’t name.

She’s warm, and safe, and she feels loved.

”My little girl,” her mom says, smiling at her through the mirror before leaning down to kiss her cheek.

Jiyeong breathes in her smell — warm and faintly floral, like a rose just starting to bloom, like a poppy right as it bursts out of its shell.

She blinks slowly, drowsily, as her mom tucks her into bed. The blanket feels heavy and safe.

”You deserve the world, Jiyeong,” her mom says, lingering for a moment at her bedside, her voice soft, almost wistful. ”You’re growing into a big girl. I’ll always love you.”

She kisses Jiyeong’s cheek, her forehead, her nose — and Jiyeong giggles a little, just barely. Her mom smiles, turns off the light, leaves the nightlight glowing softly, and shuts the door.

Jiyeong notices her cheeks are warm as she lies there.

And then —

”Ji-tokki, are you crying?” Mina asks.

The memory dissolves, and Jiyeong blinks hard, realizing she’s back in the chair, Mina standing over her, combing out her freshly dried hair.

Bright blue. Puffy.

New.

It feels like hers.

”What’s the matter?” Mina asks worryingly.

Jiyeong wipes at her eyes and looks in her reflection, ”It’s just… I love it.”

”Blue.” Daeho’s voice is surprised, curious. ”Cool.”

He grins like it’s the most interesting thing in the world, like he has any right to comment.

Jiyeong picks at her nails under the table, and the chipped polish is suddenly very fascinating. She can’t look him in the eye. Not yet.

”So… what did you wanna meet up for?” he asks, leaning in slightly, his beer still half full.

Jiyeong swallows, stomach twisting. The text she sent half an hour ago flashes in her brain.

’Meet up? Need 2 talk.’

He probably thought this was going to go differently.

He probably thought she’d show up giggling, ready to bang and forget everything like nothing happened.

And maybe that’s what she would’ve done a few months ago.

But not now.

She takes a deep breath and blurts it out before she can lose her nerve.

”Daeho, I can’t talk to you anymore.”

He freezes mid-sip, puts his glass down carefully. ”What do you mean?”

”I mean…” she licks her lips, forces herself to meet his eyes, ”I’m done. Done with you, done with whatever this was, done with pretending like it doesn’t make me hate myself every time we talk. I don’t want to see you anymore.”

For a second, he doesn’t react. Then his face twists. ”Jiyeong, c’mon. Please don’t do this—”

”Stop.” Her voice is sharp enough to cut through the noise of the bar. She’s not yelling, but it feels like everyone can hear her.

”Is this about that crazy chick that punched me?” he scoffs, sitting back in his chair. ”What, are you two fucking or some sh—”

The sound of the slap echoes louder than it should. Her hand stings. His cheek is already turning red.

”Don’t you ever talk about her that way.” Jiyeong’s voice is steady now, scarily calm, like a match just struck. ”Ever.”

People are looking now, but she doesn’t care.

She grabs her bag, stands up, and looks him dead in the eye.

”Don’t come near me. Don’t come near my dorm. Don’t text me. If you do, I swear to God, I will file a restraining order against you.”

For a second, it looks like he’s going to argue.

But Jiyeong doesn’t wait to find out. She turns on her heel and walks out of the bar, heart hammering.

The night air is cold against her burning face.

It’s over.

She celebrates by getting drunk with Mina.

Shots, cocktails, whatever they can get their hands on — they laugh until their stomachs hurt and Mina ends up throwing up in the bathroom stall of the club.

They dance.

The room spins.

The bass is thudding through her ribs, her skin is sticky with sweat and spilled soju, and Jiyeong feels alive for the first time in weeks.

And she’s ready.

Even though her head hurts, even though tomorrow’s hangover is threatening to rip through her skull, she’s ready.

She needs to find Kang Saebyeok.

Chapter Text

“I see you!” Saebyeok cheers, peeking out from behind her palms and grinning down at her tiny little brother. Cheol babbles and kicks his arms and legs, squealing with delight. She giggles at the way his little face lights up and repeats it, again and again, until the baby’s laughter turns into a bubbling mess of noises, drool trickling from the corner of his mouth.

“Saebyeok, it’s time to go,” Mom’s voice calls from the hallway. Her parents are waiting, coats on, ready to leave.

It’s around five in the evening, and they’re heading to their grandparents’ house to finally introduce the newest member of the family. Two months have passed since Mom gave birth, and their grandparents haven’t had the chance to see him yet. Now they can.

“I’m coming!” Saebyeok calls back. She catches her reflection in the mirror and her skin is breaking out in various spots on her face—perks of being a 16 year old, right?

She lifts Cheol from his bassinet and carefully places him in his stroller, pushing it toward the hallway. She remembers the first time she saw him, so tiny, so fragile. She had always wished for a younger sibling, and now, here he is.

When they arrive at their grandparents’ house, Granny and Grandpa are all smiles, tickling Cheol and doting on him. They plant kisses on Saebyeok’s cheek before diving straight into the evening meal.

Two hours later, halfway through dinner, Cheol begins to fuss. Mom rises from her chair, but Saebyeok is already on her feet.

“I’ll do it,” she says quickly, almost proud of how fast she reacted.

“Such a modest young woman she is,” Granny murmurs with a fond chuckle as Saebyeok heads toward the stroller. The words make her chest warm.

Cheol is already fed and changed. He must just be bored.

She lifts him carefully, carrying him over to the couch and laying him down. His fussing softens into little coos as she starts playing with him, wiggling his tiny feet and arms.

She puts her hands over her face, then pulls them apart—

“I see you!” she says brightly. Cheol’s laugh rings out, tiny arms flailing.

Again.

Again.

By the fourth time—

Someone yanks a bag off her head.

Her first breath is ragged, burning. Her head feels like it’s splitting open, pain throbbing behind one eye so badly she can barely keep it open.

The memory of Cheol fades like smoke.

Jesus, what the fuck is going on?

She tries to move—and freezes.

Her arms don’t budge.

Her legs don’t move.

She looks down. She’s in a chair. And she’s tied down.

Tight.

Panic starts to rise up in her chest. The last thing she remembers is walking down the street, sniffing her sleeve to see if it still reeked of smoke. It had. Then—nothing. Just the roar of a car behind her—

—and black.

Her whole body trembles. It’s freezing in here.

She finally takes in her surroundings: a dim, cramped storage room. The shelves are stacked with boxes and bags of frozen food, labels she can’t quite make out. The air smells like dust, grease, and something sour.

“Anyone?!” she croaks, but her voice is barely there, raw and dry. Mucus clogs her throat, and she hacks, spitting onto the floor before trying again.

“Help! Somebody, help me—”

“Shut the fuck up, will ya’?”

The voice is right next to her.

Saebyeok jerks so hard the chair almost tips. She whips her head to the side.

A man is sitting there.

A gnarly-looking guy with sunken eyes, tattoos crawling up his neck, and a cigarette lazily dangling from his fingers. How the hell hadn’t she noticed him before?

“Who—who are you?” she stammers, her voice breaking. “Let me go!”

The man grunts, takes a slow drag from his cigarette, and exhales smoke right in her face. The smell burns her throat. Without a word, he pushes himself to his feet, boots scuffing against the concrete floor, and walks out of the room.

The door slams.

Silence.

She screams until her voice breaks, until every cry for help scrapes raw against her throat. Her nose is running, her lip quivering from the cold, from fear.

Her heart slams against her ribs.

And that’s when the knob turns again.

She knows tricks like this. She’s seen this kind of game before—make you wait, make you panic, make you hurt yourself with your own thoughts.

But it can’t be.

It can’t.

The door creaks open.

And yeah. It’s who she thought it was.

But how the hell?

Deoksu was declared dead three years ago. She remembers the news report, the relief in her chest when she heard it.

He steps into the room like a shadow, the snake tattoo curling up his neck is a threat. His signature. His warning.

When you see that snake, you know you’re done.

“Kang Saebyeok…”

He drags her name out slow, like tasting it, pulling a chair from the corner and dragging it across the floor before sitting down directly in front of her. He doesn’t say anything at first, just stares directly at her before he opens his mouth.

”I don’t have any money..” She says, low, scared.

Deoksu laughs, before his face falls again into a menacing fucking grimace.

“Do you know how much shit I ate because of you, Kang Saebyeok?” He leans closer, his voice almost a growl. “Three years. Three fucking years rotting while everyone thought I was dead. Cops sniffing around, my crew scattered, my whole business burned to the ground — because of you.”

He grins, and it’s the most terrifying thing she’s ever seen.

“So, no. This isn’t about money. This is about payback.”

Saebyeok doesn’t say anything.

She can’t. Her tongue feels like lead in her mouth, and her throat burns like she swallowed glass.

Deoksu suddenly stands up, the legs of the stool screeching against the concrete before he grabs it and hurls it against the shelf. Glass shatters. Jars clank and roll across the floor, one spinning in a lazy circle before crashing to a stop.

Saebyeok flinches so hard the rope bites into her arms.

“You just haaaad to bail on me when I needed you the most?!” Deoksu is screaming now, angry, furious. “Everything we built—everything I gave you when you had nothing—just pissed away because you couldn’t keep your fucking head down!”

He kicks the stool so hard it splinters, and the sound rings in her ears.

Her heart is pounding so fast it feels like it’s going to split her chest open. She wants to say something, anything, but nothing comes out.

“I– I never needed you. I was desperate.” Her voice is barely there, low and shaky, like she’s speaking through a mouthful of sand.

Deoksu freezes. Then he laughs. Low at first, then louder, like he can’t believe what he just heard.

“Ohhh, that’s cute. I thought I just heard you talking back to me.” He crouches down in front of her, so close she can smell the cigarette smoke clinging to his jacket. His grin is all teeth, sharp and cruel. “Little slippery bitch,” he sneers. “Going to college now, huh? You having fun in your shiny new life?”

Her heart drops so fast it feels like it’s falling through the floor.

How the fuck does he know that?

”You see, Saebyeok,” Deoksu says, voice suddenly smooth — too smooth — as he gestures lazily at the ceiling. “I’ve got myself a new business these days. You hear that?”

At first, she hears nothing but the whirring of the industrial fan above. Then, faintly, the thud of bass. Low. Dirty. Like a heartbeat.

”W-what?” Her throat is raw, the words barely come out. “Music?”

Deoksu grins, baring his teeth like a wolf. “That’s right. Music.”

He stands, slow and deliberate, boots scraping against the concrete. He starts toward the door, then stops halfway and spins back around, his shadow cutting across her.

”I own a strip club now,” he says casually, like he’s telling her the weather. “Women, alcohol, drugs — whatever people will pay for. And you…” He takes two steps closer. “…you are going to work for me.”

It takes her brain a second to catch up. Work for him? As..

“As a— as a stripper?!” she blurts out.

Deoksu laughs. Loud. Ugly. “Oh no, sweetheart.” He crouches down so their faces are level. His grin is sharp and humorless now. “You’re gonna be selling. Pills. Weed. Coke. H. Whatever I tell you. You’re good at that, right? Sweet little Saebyeok who knows how to survive?”

Her mouth goes dry. “No,” she whispers, but it’s weak.

“No?” His smile drops. He leans closer until she can feel his breath. “Then I guess I’ll just have to pay little Cheol a visit.”

Her blood runs cold.

“You wouldn’t want that, would you?” His voice is soft now, “Or that pretty little girlfriend of yours? Jiyeong, right? Cute name. She’d look good up on a podium.”

Saebyeok’s whole body goes rigid. Her whole mind is screaming no no no no no—

“Good,” he says, standing and brushing his hands off like the deal’s already sealed. “Then you’ll comply. First shift’s tomorrow night.”

The door shuts.

”How old are you, honey?” a woman who’s been grinding on her all night asks seductively in her ear.

”22,” Saebyeok mutters, forcing a smile. Customers aren’t hard to catch, but doing this for five days straight is starting to take its toll.

Luckily, she knows something these junkies don’t. She doesn’t know who warned her, but she’ll do anything to avoid getting caught by the police—she can’t afford that.

Her eyes flick to the clock on her phone: 22:59. Any moment now.

”I like ’em younger,” the woman murmurs in her ear, warm breath sending shivers down Saebyeok’s spine. She forces herself to smile, keep it natural, then glances at the clock again. Just as she’s about to make her move, the doors burst open. Armed officers storm in, shouting for everyone to freeze. Overhead lights snap on. Music screeches to a halt.

Saebyeok doesn’t panic. She knows exactly where to go. Sliding through the panicked crowd, ducking behind people, and heads straight for the bathroom window.

Two days earlier

Jiyeong is sitting with her head in her hands, crouched forward on her bed.

How is she just.. Gone like this? She can’t just be gone, something must’ve happened.

She’s tried everything, talked to Minsu, everyone she knows Saebyeok talks to, but nothing, nobody’s seen her, not even Thanos or Namgyu. No teachers, no students have seen her in school or the dorms.

She’s starting to get really fucking worried.

She pulls out an energy drink from her mini fridge and starts searching up ’Kang Saebyeok’ on google, maybe something will pop up? Just something? Please just something.

Nothing.

Her breath comes faster. She chugs the drink, sticky droplets running down her chin, into her shirt…

And then it hits her.

A solution.

Why hadn’t she thought of this before?

It’s still early on Wednesday. She can go without disrupting him too much—maybe she’ll miss a class or two, but this is more fucking important. She grabs her jacket and practically tumbles out the door, phone in one hand and bus ticket in the other.

The bus ride is excruciatingly long. It’s only twenty minutes with traffic, but she fidgets like a kid in math class.

”Cheol!” she calls, smiling wide.

The little boy looks up, surprised. He's sitting alone on the bench, sketching. ”Jiyeong-nuna…?”

Jiyeong takes off her beanie and sits beside him carefully. ”What are you drawing?”

”A… a dinosaur,” he says hesitantly.

”Wow, cool!” she leans closer, pointing at the green T-Rex with its sharp teeth. ”I like it.”

”Thank you…” he murmurs politely.

They sit in silence for a moment, Cheol absorbed in his sketching. Jiyeong isn’t sure how to start, but then Cheol speaks.

”Nuna is in trouble again, right? That’s why you’re here alone.”

Her heart skips a beat. In trouble? What does that mean? ”She’s… just been gone for a couple days.”

Cheol looks up at her, his little eyes full of worry. ”Is… is she with the snake man again?”

Jiyeong’s eyes widen. ”Snake man?”

”The bad man,” Cheol says, voice trembling slightly. ”He forces her to do bad stuff for him… otherwise he’ll hurt me.”

The words don’t sound right coming out of a six-year-old’s mouth. Kids are supposed to be worried about toys breaking, or who gets the last popsicle.

Not… this.

”Do… you know where he is?” Jiyeong asks, careful not to sound panicked.

Cheol shakes his head slowly. ”No…”

She chews on her lip, staring down at the cracks in the pavement. ”Is he… like, a leader? Of something?”

”Yes,” Cheol whispers, barely looking up. ”He has many people who work for him. Unnie told me.”

Jiyeong leans back against the bench, exhaling through her nose.

Okay.

Okay.

So there’s a guy with goons, a guy who’s scary enough to make Saebyeok hide and keep her little brother on alert.

And now she’s just… gone.

Her stomach feels heavy, like a stone dropped straight through her gut.

What the hell is she supposed to do with this?
She’s not a cop. She’s not a fighter. She’s just a standard college girl who barely passed her last math exam.

If she digs into this, she could get caught up in something bad — something she can’t climb out of. She can picture it too clearly: guys in dark cars, watching her dorm, following her to class. She doesn’t want that.

But the alternative? Just sitting around, waiting for Saebyeok to magically show up, pretending she’s fine?

No.

Not after everything.

She stares down at Cheol’s little green dinosaur, sharp teeth and all, and something twists in her chest.

She has to do something.

Even if it’s reckless.

Even if it’s dangerous.

Even if it’s stupid.

When she gets back to the dorm that night, she doesn’t even bother turning on the main light.
She drops her bag by the door, kicks off her shoes, and practically collapses into her chair, laptop open before she’s even sat down properly.

Search bar.

’Snake man gangster’
Nothing useful.

’Korean gangster snake’
Weird forum posts and some tattoo Pinterest boards.

’Top Korean gang leaders 2025’
Page after page of articles about busts, arrests, mugshots, and scandals.

She scrolls. And scrolls. And scrolls, eyes burning from the blue light, fingers clicking until they hurt.

And then—

There it is.

A grainy still from a news report dated back to 2022. A headline about the police declaring a gang leader dead after a warehouse fire.

And the picture.

He’s staring straight into the camera, brows drawn tight, hair slick and greasy.
The snake curling up his neck is impossible to miss.

The snake man.

Her blood runs cold.

Deoksu.

She leans back, suddenly very aware of how quiet her dorm room is, the only sound the faint hum of her laptop fan.

He’s supposed to be dead.

So why the hell is Saebyeok missing?

She glances at the clock.
21:43.

“Shit.” She mutters under her breath. She should probably be getting ready for bed, getting some sleep before class tomorrow, but she can’t drop this. Not now.

Who could tell her more about this?

Her brain runs through names like a Rolodex until—flash of purple.

Of course.

He’d know.

She’s already halfway out the door before she’s really thought it through, sneakers barely tied, hoodie zipped half the way up. A quick, hurried walk to Thanos’s rundown apartment, and she’s frantically knocking at the door.

No answer.

But then… a noise.

A loud, unmistakable slap-slap-slap, followed by a rhythm of heavy breathing. Her eyebrows shoot up.

Fucking hell—

She knocks again, louder. Rings the doorbell once, twice, three times.

Nothing.

“Thanos! Open up!” she yells, banging on the door.

The rhythm falters, then stops. Footsteps shuffle. The door swings open. Thanos stands there, flushed, sweat glistening on his chest, hair sticking to his forehead. Shirtless, sweatpants clinging to him.

“Jesus Christ, Chica. What?” His voice is annoyed, breathless.

She peeks past him. Namgyu is on the couch, flushed red, half-hidden under a blanket, hands tangled in his hair. No explanation needed here.

”I need some help.” She says, inviting herself inside.

“Nah, nah, not right now, girl,” he says, stepping in front of her and gently shoving her back toward the door. “We were…” He leans closer, voice low, “…having a moment… or some shit.”

Jiyeong glances at him, then at Namgyu, who’s now out cold on the couch.
“Hah. Yeah, I can see that,” she mutters, unimpressed.

“Please. Just… get out,” Thanos adds, rubbing the back of his neck.

Jiyeong scowls. “You know what? No!” she snaps, stepping forward again. “When you did this exact same shit to me and Saebyeok, you didn’t leave so easily either. And now I actually need help, so could you—just once—be a decent human and listen?”

Thanos exhales, shaking his head, half amused, half exasperated. “…Fine.”

He motions for her to sit at the kitchen island and slides her a glass of vodka soda. “We’ve got no water in store,” he says. Real hospitality. She’ll take it anyway—might as well loosen up a little.
Thanos yanks on a bright yellow t-shirt that’s practically assaulting her eyes. Butt-fugly.

“So… what’s going on between you and Namgyu?” Jiyeong asks casually, sipping her drink, glancing at Namgyu still sprawled on the couch. Namgyu looks wrecked. Luckily his crotch is covered by the blanket. She's not tryna to see the douchebags junk.

Thanos chuckles, takes a swig of his own drink. “Y’know.”

“Paradise?” she teases.

“Kinda…” He pauses, then leans in slightly, eyes sharp. “So… what did you need help with?”

Jiyeong bites her lip, hesitating, trying to find the right words.

But then Namgyu stirs, sits up, and Jiyeong loses her words. He doesn’t notice her—or so she thinks. She’s tucked in a corner where the light barely reaches. He lights the bong, it bubbles, and he inhales the smoke, exhales slowly.

”Thanoss,” he slurs in a sing-song voice, leaning back on the couch, ”Finish meee!”

Jiyeong nearly chokes on her vodka soda.

Jeez.

”Namgyu, we’ve got guests.” Thanos chuckles, crouching down and handing him some boxers. Jiyeong looks away, feeling like she’s really invading their privacy. Well, she put herself in this situation, so she can’t be too annoyed.

He helps Namgyu to his feet and guides him toward a room—presumably the bedroom—muttering something to him as Namgyu sways like a drunken pirate. Thanos lays him down on the bed, straightens the sheets around him, and closes the door behind him before returning to the kitchen.

”Sorry ’bout him,” Thanos says with a half-smile, plopping into the chair next to Jiyeong and clinking his glass against the counter before taking another sip. ”You were saying?”

Jiyeong shakes her head to try and focus. Her limbs feel heavy and her head is warm. A nice buzz is spreading through her veins. She feels like she can talk.

”Saebyeok.” She starts, without much context.

”Your girlfriend, yeah.” Thanos answers, also without much context.

Jiyeong leans back in her chair. ”As I said theother day: we fought, she disappeared. But today I visited her brother. He said something about a snake man, I—uh—I searched it up on Google,” she rambles, slurring slightly. Jesus, can she have one goddamn sober moment in Thanos’s apartment? ”I found someone.”

Thanos stays quiet through the entire chaotic sentence, his eyes sharp.

”Deoksu,” she says firmly, watching his reaction. He takes a deep breath, glances down at his glass.

”Yeah?” he says quietly, his voice tight.

”I need to know more about him.”

”You don’t know who you’re getting involved with,” he warns, serious now. Jiyeong has never heard him this serious before. This has got to be a real fucking deal.

She leans forward, trying to meet his gaze. ”Please, Subong,” she pleads, ”I need answers. You know about shit like this, right? So… please.”

Thanos sighs, takes a long pull from his glass, then finally meets her eyes with a sort of melancholy weight. ”I was involved with Deoksu a long time ago… way back, when I was fifteen,” he says. ”He… introduced me to the underground, to things I really shouldn’t have known. But I was fifteen. I messed up. He’d beat me regularly. Threaten to kill my mom. Force me to do shit for him.”

Jiyeong nods, letting the words sink in.

”He’s a fucking dangerous man, Jiyeong,” Thanos continues, his voice is low but still heavy.

”I know…” she says, her eyes fixed on him. ”That’s why I can’t leave Saebyeok with him.”

Thanos exhales slowly. ”Look… all I know for sure right now is he owns a strip club in the underground. Rattle Girls.”

”Rattle Girls,” she repeats.

”But Jiyeong,” he warns, leaning closer, ”you can’t just walk in there. If he doesn’t recognize you from the underground, you’ll be in serious danger. Kidnapped, tied up—he doesn’t allow unknown people there. They could be undercover cops, y’know?”

Jiyeong exhales, running a hand through her hair. ”Couldn’t I just call the cops on the place?”

Thanos shakes his head. ”No. If Saebyeok’s working for him, she’d get caught immediately.”

Jiyeong sighs, clunks her glass on the counter. Doesn’t taste anything like soda—just pure, sharp alcohol. She stares at it, thinking fast. How do you get to someone trapped in that mess without getting yourself killed? ”But… maybe if I… warn her somehow?”

”You’re gonna warn her?”

Jiyeong shrugs.

”How?”

”I’ll…” she hesitates, ”I’ll do it from outside. Discreetly. Let her know something’s coming, y’know?”

Thanos stands, quiet for a moment, scratching his back, pacing slowly. He’s thinking—every single brain cell firing.

”I’m coming with you,” he finally says.

”What?”

”Look, I’m not letting you do this alone, chica.” He rests his palms on the kitchen counter. ”I know someone. A cop. Hwang Junho. He’ll help us.”

Jiyeong’s eyebrows shoot up. ”You know a cop?”

”Well… he’s a little different from the others. Kinda underground himself.”

Jiyeong nods slowly. ”…Sure.”

Thanos slaps his hands lightly on the counter. ”Okay, here’s the plan: We meet Junho tomorrow morning, report the club, get info on when and how they’re raiding the place, and then we warn Saebyeok.”

Wow. Thanos is actually… helpful. Really helpful. Rare.

”That’s… a solid plan, Subong,” she says, nodding.

”Type shit,” he grins.

They sit, chat, and drink a little longer until Namgyu stumbles out of the bedroom in his boxers, you can practically see the headache he’s suffering. ”The hell’s she doing here?”

Thanos wraps an arm around his boy’s waist. ”Wanted some relationship advice,” he teases, planting a kiss on Namgyu’s cheek.

For such an uptight prick who’s a bitch to everything, Namgyu practically melts under Thanos’s touch. Jiyeong can see it. When Thanos whispers something in his ear, Namgyu’s face turns a bright, furious red.

Jiyeong realizes her cue to leave. As she gathers herself to open the door, Thanos walks up. ”Remember, tomorrow morning. Meetup.”

Jiyeong nods. ”Got it.”

It doesn’t take long after she steps out the door before the noises start again. The men cannot fucking keep their hands off each other. So gay. Jiyeong snorts, shakes her head, and hurries home.

Chapter Text

The trees have started turning that burnt-orange color they always do this time of year. It’s not Jiyeong’s fault she’s sipping a pumpkin spice latte, okay? It’s for the vibe.

…And the hangover.

“He’ll be here any second,” Thanos mutters, scanning the street. He’s in one of his weird-ass hoodies today, one with little stickmen in neon colors. So many colors. Jiyeong squints at it like it’s trying to blind her.

She ashes her cigarette in the tray, drags long and slow. First nicotine in a long time. Probably not the brightest idea, but it keeps her sharp. She passes it over when Thanos pinches his fingers for it, then leans back, watching leaves flutter down from the trees.

“Oh! There he is!” Thanos grins, smoke spilling out his nose as he flicks the cig to the ground. He hops up and gives the guy one of those awkward dude half-hug-half-handshake things.

The guy doesn’t look like a cop. More like the type of dude who crashes on your couch and forgets to Venmo you back for the pizza. Plain jacket, messy hair, casual as fuck.

“This is Jiyeong, the one I told you about,” Thanos says.

Junho slides into the chair across from her, gives her a polite handshake. “I’m Junho. Nice to meet you.”

Jiyeong takes his hand, then yanks hers back quick to gulp at her latte. The caffeine-burn hits her throat. Perfect. She plants her elbows on the table, leans forward, and says, crisp and clear, like someone just offered to pay for her McDonalds order:

“Rattle Girls. Deoksu. We need a raid.”

Both men blink at her, then glance around like she’d yelled across a courtroom.

“Don’t be so loud,” Thanos whispers.

Jiyeong looks at him. “There’s nobody sitting outside when it’s this cold, smartass.”

Thanos scoffs. “You never know. Somebody could be spying on your conversation.”

Junho cuts in, leans forward, voice low. “Okay, so—” he pauses, eyes on Jiyeong, “—you want me to call a police raid on the place?”

Jiyeong nods.

“…Even though you have no clear evidence it’s illegal?” Junho’s question lands like a slap.

Her stomach drops. Fuck. Why hadn’t she thought of evidence?

“I mean, strip clubs are technically illegal in korea, but do you have proof of prostitution or drug activity?” Junho presses.

Jiyeong leans back. She has nothing. No proof. No smoking gun.

Thanos exhales, a short, deliberate sound. “I do.”

Junho raises an eyebrow. “You do?”

Jiyeong isn’t surprised.

Thanos nods, face softening. “Yeah. I know people — from the underground. A year ago I was… at the club for my birthday. My friend took pictures. Clear ones.” He fishes his phone out, thumbs through his photos until he stops. He flips the screen toward them: grainy but damning images — a girl in next-to-nothing grinding on a customer, dancers snorting lines off a table, and in one shot a shadowy man with a snake tattoo coiled up his neck, arms folded, watching.

“But if you show the police this,” Thanos says, voice going flat, “they’ll see me. They’ll see where I was. I can’t go back to jail.” He lets his chin drop into his knuckle and stares at the table.

”So it is true,” Junho says, eyes flicking over the photos. ”He’s alive.”

Both of them nod slowly.

”Can’t believe he managed to stay under the radar this long,” Junho mutters. He studies the pictures a little longer, then exhales. “Look — this is solid. I can take some of these photos, the ones where you’re not in the frame. I’ll use them as part of a file to justify a raid.”

Jiyeong’s mouth goes dry. “Where are you gonna say you got these photos from?”

Junho taps his pen on the table, thinking fast. “Anonymous tip. Someone dropped them in a mailbox downtown, slipped it in an envelope. No names. No digital trail. Or we can say they came from a concerned citizen who wanted to stay anonymous.” He meets Thanos’ eyes. “Either way, we sanitize them — crop, timestamp, whatever — so there’s no trace back to you.”

Thanos rubs his jaw. “Can you really use that? Make it look clean?”

Junho nods, hard. “I can make it look clean enough to present to the brass. But timing matters — I’ll need a warrant-ready window. I can get the squad ready, but I don’t want a half-assed sweep. We need evidence, and then we move quick.”

Jiyeong leans forward, pulse kicking. “So — if we give you the photos, you’ll set it up? And I… warn Saebyeok before you go in?”

“Exactly,” Junho says. “You warn her discreetly. I’ll take the photos, push the paperwork, and when we have probable cause, we hit Rattle Girls. No heroics, no Tony Stark bullshit. We plan it and we execute.”

Thanos and Jiyeong nod, fast. This is fucking solid. They’re doing this.

They are doing this.

Next step of the day: warn Saebyeok. Naturally, that means going undercover. Which, of course, means they’re back at Thanos’s place while he’s getting way too into “dressing for the occasion.”

”So,” he rattles off, tugging on his hoodie, ”we pretend we’re a drunk couple, we find an open hatch, casually bump into Saebyeok, slip her the envelope. Boom. Done.”

Jiyeong squints at him. ”Why do we need to pretend to be a couple?”

”People know me there. If someone asks who you are, I’ll just say you’re my new girl.” He says it like it’s the most natural thing in the world.

…Okay. Sure. Fine.

Which is how Jiyeong ends up in a tight black dress with fishnets, smudged eyeliner, and heels too high for her goddamn sanity. She doesn’t even want to know why Thanos and Namgyu just had this shit lying around, but whatever. Point is: she looks slutty. Like a junkie-slutty. Which is exactly the vibe.

Thanos, meanwhile, looks like Thanos: baggy hoodie, nothing new. Except now he’s wearing a tiny silver cross necklace around his neck.

”Oh, you turned Christian all of a sudden?” Jiyeong scrutinizes, eyeing the cross.

Thanos just winks, smirks, and flips the tiny pendant open. Inside: not Jesus. A stash of neatly packed pills.

…Oh.

Jiyeong blinks at him. ”Classy.”

”Holy spirit, baby,” Thanos says with a grin, snapping it shut again.

They hop into Thanos’s beat-up car. The plate in the front scrapes the concrete with every bump. Jiyeong bites her lip, feeling her stomach twist. She runs the lines in her head.

“Okay,” Thanos says, glancing at her, “drunk, casual, flirty. Smile at the right times, laugh at my jokes.”

Jiyeong nods, muttering, “Drunk, casual… flirty…”

“Yes. Easy, natural.”

She groans, tugging at her fishnet-clad thighs. “Natural? I look like a junkie.”

“Exactly,” he says with a smirk. “Fake it till you make it.”

They drive for about thirty minutes, park around a sketchy corner, and hop out. Across the street after a little walk, the line of people waiting to get in snakes around the entrance. Okay. Now or never.

Jiyeong ’’accidentally’’ stumbles, grabbing for Thanos. “Oppa,” she groans, teeth clenched. Is she selling it? Maybe.

Thanos chuckles, fully in character, his hands sliding around her waist, it’s a little repulsive but they’ve got to keep the act up so she lets him. He leans in, whispering in her ear, “Good. Keep that up.”

She forces a smile, hoping it looks natural, and they stride toward the club.

The guard’s eyes flick to them. “Thanos,” he nods, smirking. “Got a pretty little thing with ya'.”

Her stomach twists.

“Yup,” Thanos says smoothly, smirking back. “My new girl.”

Jiyeong nearly chokes on her own adrenaline but keeps smiling. The guard opens the door—VIP, huh? Likely.

The bass thuds in her chest, bouncing through her ears. Thanos keeps a hand tight on her waist, guiding her through the writhing crowd. Bodies grinding, lights flashing, cash flying onto the stage. Lines glint on tables. Everything smells like sweat, perfume, and alcohol.

She tries not to look like she’s panicking. Just a fake smile, keep it casual. Pretend this is normal.

Thanos orders them two shots of tequila while Jiyeong scans the room, hunting for any sign of Saebyeok.

But… Nothing.

How would she be dressed? How would she look? Where the hell is she?

Thanos leans in. ”Don’t worry, we’ll find her in time.”

Thirty minutes pass. Fake laughter at Thanos’s dumb jokes, dodging unwanted attention when he greets people he apparently knows, more shots. Jiyeong’s nerves spike. Then—she hears it. Her voice. Louder than usual, unmistakable. She freezes, scanning.

Arms crossed, hair tied down in a loose ponytail, leather jacket. She’s dealing with someone. She can see the woman she’s dealing with lean a little closer, slip an arm around her shoulder. And Saebyeok.. smiles?!

Jiyeong’s heart thuds and her blood runs hot. Fuck.

No. No.

Jiyeong taps Thanos’s shoulder. He leans in, she whispers in his ear, ”She’s there. To our right, by the wall.”

He spots her, smirks, and nods. ”Okay. Follow my lead.”

Thanos turns to his buddies, ”Gonna go somewhere private, y’know.” He nods at Jiyeong. The buddies raise eyebrows; she gives a tiny fake smirk. She knows what he means. Hand in hand, he guides her toward Saebyeok. Oh shit. They’re just going for it. Her stomach twists. She thought she was ready—she’s not fucking ready.

Okay… Just breathe, follow his lead.

Jiyeong watches as Thanos bumps Saebyeok’s shoulder enough to make her stumble a little, sliding the envelope into her pocket so fucking smooth you wouldn’t even notice if you hadn’t been looking as close as Jiyeong was.

”Watch yourself,” Saebyeok warns, her tone sharp, that familiar warning voice. Jiyeong feels heat rush straight to her face. God. God, how she’s missed that voice. Missed her as a whole.

”My bad,” Thanos mutters quickly, ducking his head as he shoves them forward, dragging Jiyeong along through the crowd.

When they push out the doors, the pounding bass fades into the background noise of the city. They slip right back into character for the shady bystanders, arms slung around each other, staggering just enough to look sloppy. Pretending drunk is easier now, because Jiyeong actually is drunk — three shots of tequila burning in her stomach, blood buzzing. That shit’s not for the weak or lightweight. Her heart is pounding so hard it feels like it might crack her ribs. The air outside hits her skin sharp and cold, but it doesn’t calm her.

”Hey!” A voice cuts through the night behind them.

The word slams into Jiyeong’s spine like a bullet. She freezes for half a second, the warmth draining out of her chest. A guard steps forward from the doorway, broad frame blocking out the neon light behind him. His eyes sweep over them, suspicious.

Thanos turns, grin lazy and lopsided, still holding Jiyeong’s waist. ”Yo! My bad, bro. Too many shots. Had to get my girl some fresh air, y’know how it is.”

The guard’s gaze flicks to Jiyeong. She forces a giggle, sways against Thanos like she can barely hold herself upright. Her heart is screaming don’t fuck this up, don’t fuck this up.

The guard narrows his eyes. ”Haven’t seen her before.”

Jiyeong’s stomach knots.

Shit.

She leans into Thanos harder, lets her head loll against his chest, like she’s too drunk to even comprehend what’s being said. Her lips part, and a sloppy little laugh slips out.

Thanos squeezes her waist, smooth as ever. ”New girl,” he says, simple, like that’s all the explanation needed for this shit. His grin doesn’t falter. ”You know me, man. I wouldn’t bring trouble.”

The guard stares a beat too long. Jiyeong can feel the sweat forming on the back of her neck. Any second now, he’s gonna call their bluff—

A voice cuts through from inside the club. ”Yo, you coming back in or what?” Another worker leans out, waving the guard impatiently.

The guard clicks his tongue, gives Thanos one last slow look, then waves them off. ”Keep her in line. Don’t make me see her causing shit.”

”Always, bro,” Thanos says easily, already turning Jiyeong away, steering her down the street before the guy can think twice.

They don’t speak until they’re around the corner, out of sight. Jiyeong lets out a sharp breath, realizes she’d been holding it the entire time. Her limbs feel like fucking noodles that had been boiled for too long.

”Holy shit,” she whispers, clutching at her chest. ”I thought he was onto us.”

Thanos laughs, breathing heavily, ”You just gotta look like you own the place.”

Of course. Classic Thanos.

But there’s too much adrenaline coursing through her veins to come up with something to say to that. She presses her palms into her eyes, trying to calm down.

”Let’s call Junho, update him on the letter.” Jiyeong decides.

They did it. Saebyeok has the envelope.

Now they just have to pray she reads it.

Saebyeok stares down at the letter. Scribbled messy, like whoever wrote it had been in a rush, the red marker bleeding slightly into the paper.

“At 23:00 tonight there’s a raid. Get out through the bathroom window before the cops show, but don’t make it suspicious. If you think you know me, come by my apartment after.”

Her pulse hammers in her throat. Who the fuck…? Who could’ve warned her?

The bass thrums so hard through the bathroom walls it rattles in her chest. Her jaw clenches; her skin feels too tight. She’s buzzing on coke—forced on her by a couple dancers who thought it’d be “fun.” She’d had no choice but to play along.

She glances at the phone in her hand.

21:00.

Two hours.

Bang, bang, bang.

Three sharp knocks slam into the stall door. Her whole body seizes. She scrambles, flushes the letter down the toilet, watches the red smear swirl away. The metallic latch feels slick under her fingers as she unlocks it.

Deoksu.

He towers in the doorway, the snake on his neck coiling with every flex of his jaw. His fucking glare could split her in half.

”Get back to sellin’, bitch,” he growls, ”Ain’t no fuckin’ time for pee breaks.”

Saebyeok nods quickly, eyes down, slipping past him into the crowd. The bass rattles her chest, the heat and sweat of everyone around pressing in. She wants to breathe, wants to escape, but every step is heavy with fear.

Her relief when she reaches the bathroom window is brief, the chaos from outside the bathrooms is brutal, people yelling and shouting and swearing as they get trampled. She peeks out the narrow window, the alley is empty. Thank God. She's finally-

But when she’s managed to squeeze half of her body through, she feels a hand grab her ankle.

Her stomach lurches.

No.

Not now.

She looks down. It’s him. Deoksu. His expression is pure fury. His eyes are fire.

”Why the fuck are the feds raiding this place? You knew about this?!” he screams and pulls her through the window with all his might, just by her foot. Her head hits the edge and she feels a sharp, fiery pain go up her back into her head. He shoves her to the floor, and he locks the door.

Pain erupts across her face before she even has time to react—Deoksu is sitting on her chest, suffocating, punch after punch, hard, unrelenting. Her nose bleeds. Her lip splits. Her cheeks sting. She tastes iron, sweat, and alcohol and can smell his disgusting breath as he yells in her face.

”I knew I should’ve killed you when I saw you! You called the raid!”

She starts to see black dots.

And then his hands clamp around her neck. Pressure, hot and suffocating. She struggles, kicking, clawing at him, but he’s too strong.

She gasps for air, fighting with every might left in her body. Her heart is pounding like it’s gonna explode.

This is how she goes.

And yet—through the pain and fear, one thought flashes through everything: Jiyeong. She wishes desperately that she could see her one last time, even if it’s just a fleeting glance. Even that seems impossible.

She is small. She is frightened. And she is trapped.

Then—thud. Hard. Against the back of Deoksu’s head. His body goes limp, collapsing onto her chest. For a second, she just freezes, heart hammering so hard it feels like it might burst.

Then she gasps for air.

What the fuck just happened?

She scrambles beneath him, hands slippery with sweat, knees shaking, trying to push his weight off her. Each movement feels heavy, slow, like moving through molasses. Her head spins, her vision blurs, and a sharp pain blooms across her cheek where he’d hit her over and over again.

She notices a shadow at the bathroom doorway. Shit, a cop. Standing there, tense, alert with a baton in his hand.

”Go. Before the others come,” he says, his voice calm, urgent.

She swallows hard, barely believing it. He’s not here to arrest her?

Shit, she’s gotta go.

Fast.

Her hands tremble as she clambers toward the cracked window, wincing as her bruised body groans against every movement. The cold night air finally hits her skin—harsh, sharp. Her lungs burn and she’s bleeding and breathing. She gasps, tasting the metallic sting of blood in her mouth, but she’s moving, running.

She doesn’t know where, but she’s gotta get somewhere safe.

She thinks back to that writing on the letter. Messy. Shaky. Rushed.

If you think you know me, come by my apartment

Of course.

Chapter Text

Fuck.

By now, all the nail polish is chewed off. Every last bit.

She’s fine. Okay?

She’s fucking fine. She’s Kang Saebyeok. She has to be fine. That’s her whole goddamn motto: endure, survive.

But Jiyeong’s heart is pounding like a drum, her head is still spinning from all the shots they threw back, and cold sweat is sticking to her skin. Stress and alcohol don’t mix. Not one bit. Her ankles ache from those stupid heels. Her makeup’s smeared, her hair’s a tangled mess, and she feels like she’s been dragged through hell backwards.

Does Saebyeok even know to come here? Did she understand the message? Did she get out in time?

Please. For the love of God.

Jiyeong never prays. Never. But right now she feels like she’s two seconds away from falling to her knees and begging whatever’s up there to just—please—let Saebyeok walk through that door.

Hope.

”Chica!”

She hears Thanos call from the living room.

She takes one last second in the mirror—splashes cold water on her face, smooths down her messy blue hair, tugs her shirt straight. Then she forces herself out of the bathroom.

”It’s on the fuckin’ news! Look!”

Jiyeong drops down on the couch beside him, legs bouncing, gnawing at what’s left of her nails. On the TV, the chaos is playing out in flashing cuts—helicopter shots of panicked crowds, police swarming the streets, reporters speaking fast into cameras.

A mugshot.

And when she sees it, maybe about half of her anxiety pipes down.

Deoksu. Bloody. Bruised. Snarling into the lens like an teased tiger locked in a cage. Jiyeong sucks in a breath. Good. The anchor talks on and on about charges, criminal history, ties to the underground—words she barely registers.

Because yeah, Deoksu’s behind bars. But that doesn’t mean Saebyeok is safe.

Thanos sticks a blunt between his lips and sparks it. The room fills with that sharp, skunky smell. Jiyeong stares at him, incredulous. Why the fuck does he want to be blitzed right now?

She exhales, rubs her face.

There’s two light pats on her shoulder. ”Don’t worry. Saebyeok’s a smart girl—”

”You don’t get it!” Jiyeong snaps, the words ripping out of her before she can stop them. She shoots to her feet, throat burning. That lump she’s been swallowing for days is exploding, right in Thanos face.

”I fuckin’—” Her voice cracks. ”She opened up to me, and I fucked it up. This is all my fault! I’m the whole reason she’s in this situation right now. I—” She swallows, hard. ”I hooked up with my ex, for Christ’s sake, and she walked out, and I couldn’t even talk to her, and now she’s—”

Her eyes sting, vision blurring.

“She—”

Knock, knock, knock, knock.

Four quick raps at the door.

The sound freezes them both.

”Was that… a knock?” Thanos asks, eyes narrowing.

Jiyeong doesn’t answer right away. She’s staring at the door, chest heaving.

”I—I don’t know.”

The apartment is dead quiet now. Even the TV seems muffled, distant, like it knows to shut up.

Jiyeong’s pulse is pounding in her ears.

”Don’t just stand there,” she hisses at Thanos, her voice trembling. ”Go check.”

Thanos stares at her but he sets the blunt in the ashtray, pushes himself up, and pads toward the door. Each step feels loud. Too loud. Jiyeong’s hands are shaking. She wipes at her face quickly, if she can just erase the tears fast enough, it won’t count.

Thanos presses his eye to the peephole.

He stiffens.

”...Holy shit,” he mutters.

Jiyeong takes a step forward, heart in her throat. ”What? Who is it?”

He turns his head slowly toward her, eyes wide, unreadable.

”It’s her.”

Jiyeong’s heart stutters. She can’t believe it—she can’t believe her ears.

”Outta the way!” she blurts, shoving past Thanos and yanking the door open.

And there she is. Saebyeok.

For half a second Jiyeong just stares, but before she can even speak, Saebyeok’s body buckles. She crumples forward, straight into Jiyeong’s arms. It nearly knocks her over.

”Fuck!” Jiyeong gasps, trying to hold her steady, but the weight is too much—until Thanos dives in and catches them both. Jiyeong finally sees her face up close—bruised, swollen, smeared with blood. Her chest twists violently.

”Shit, she’s really fucked up,” Thanos mutters, already helping her stumble to the couch, ”We’ve gotta get her to the couch, now.”

They guide her to the couch, and her body drops heavy onto the cushions, limp, like all the fight’s been drained out of her. The couch groans beneath her weight, the springs let out a sharp creak. She bounces once and then lies there all defeated. Done.

”Must’ve got caught up in some shit back at the club,” Thanos swears under his breath as he grabs the blunt from the tray.
Jiyeong doesn’t answer right away. Her hands hover over Saebyeok’s hair, afraid to touch, afraid not to. Finally, she brushes a stray strand from her face with trembling fingers. ”Yeah…” she whispers, voice cracking. ”Where’s your medicine cabinet?”

Thanos jerks his thumb toward the bathroom. ”Over the sink.”

”I’m grabbing some stuff,” she says, already moving.

”Just don’t touch my morphine!”

Jiyeong freezes for half a second as she looks inside. Honestly, she’s not surprised.

She rifles through the cabinet until she finds disinfectant, fucking Hello Kitty patches and a clean rag, then hurries back. The apartment is quiet now, the only sound Saebyeok’s uneven breaths and the TV that’s on minimum volume. Jiyeong sits down beside her, dampens the cloth, and starts dabbing gently at the blood and dirt on her face.

Saebyeok groans, low and pained.

Jiyeong exhales, almost breaking. Good. Any sign of consciousness is good.

After twenty minutes of tending, tending, tending—fresh cloths, dabs of disinfectant, shifting pillows to keep her comfortable—the lock on the front door rattles.

”Thanossuuu!” Namgyu’s voice hollers from the hallway. ”Can we order chicken or something? I’m hungry as sh—”

He steps into the living room, sees Saebyeok limp on the couch, Jiyeong bent over her, and freezes. ”What the fuck, dude?”

Thanos gets up from the armchair fast, walks over, lowers his voice, already trying to calm Namgyu down. Their murmurs fade toward the bedroom. Jiyeong barely registers. Her whole world is narrowed to Saebyeok’s face. She dabs carefully at the deepest cut on her cheek—the one she knows will scar no matter how gentle she is. Still, she places a patch over it, one by one covering each wound until she’s done everything she can.

”Gonna go to bed. You should too, Jiyeong,” Thanos calls quietly from the hall. ”Stay by her side tonight, alright?”

”Already on it,” she murmurs, eyes never leaving Saebyeok.

She pulls her knees up to her chest, rests her chin there, and with one hand brushes flakes of dried blood from the torn fabric of Saebyeok’s shirt. It feels almost like she’s brushing dust off something precious. Something she’s afraid might break if she holds it too tightly.

God. Saebyeok really is so beautiful it hurts her chest. Even beat up, bruised, and bloody—she looks angelic. Almost unreal.

Jiyeong just sits there, chin pressed to her knees, staring at her like she’s something sacred she doesn’t deserve to touch. Saebyeok exhales softly. A sigh. Her body relaxes, her breathing finally slowing into something steady, safe. And Jiyeong lets herself breathe with her. She grabs Saebyeok’s hand, resting her head lightly on the edge of the sofa, letting her eyes fall shut.

She hears it again, somewhere behind her closed eyelids—footsteps, quick and uncertain, the sound of a door snapping open.

And there she is. Frozen in the doorway.

Jiyeong remembers walking right up with a little bounce in her step, eager, smiling. ”Hey, I’m Jiyeong, your roommate.” She’d stuck her hand out.

Saebyeok had only nodded, awkward, her shake a little too gentle. ”Saebyeok.”

Just a moment. Just that first time.

Twelve hours later—twelve fucking hours—she stirs.

Her body aches. Her upper half sprawled across the cold hardwood, the lower half sinking into the coarse, dirty rug. She groans softly, blinking against the harsh light creeping through the blinds. She takes a quick glance at the clock.

12:43.

Shit—she slept too long. Her head throbs as she rubs her temples, then she glances at the couch where Saebyeok—

Isn’t sleeping.

Her heart spikes. She shoots up, looking around frantically.

“Jiyeong-ah.”

The voice—raspy but clear, rough but somehow gentle—cuts through her panicked mind. For a second it feels like she’s still dreaming.

Her eyes dart to the kitchen counter, where the living room opens up. And there she is. Saebyeok. Sitting with a coffee mug cradled in her lap, looking at her softly.

“S-Saebyeok?” Jiyeong stammers.

Saebyeok sighs, sets the mug aside, and rises from the bar stool. “Fuck.” The word comes out like a fucking relief, as if she’s been holding it in for days. She walks over—closer, closer—and then just… wraps her arms around Jiyeong.

And Jiyeong is gone. She smells her—sweat, smoke, blood, that warm scent she knows like home. She smells alive.

Shit. Jiyeong’s gonna cry.

She buries her face into Saebyeok’s shoulder, arms trembling as they wrap tight around her. A quiet sniffle escapes her throat.

“Heh… don’t cry,” Saebyeok murmurs.

“I’m… I’m so sorry, Saebyeok.” Jiyeong’s voice cracks, muffled against her shoulder. “I’m such a fucking idiot. I fell for you—I fell for you—and then I went and ruined it with that stupid guy, like it didn’t mean anything, like you didn’t mean anything. And it’s not true, it’s never been true.”

She pulls back, just far enough to see her face, her own tears blurring the sight. “I don’t care if I sound pathetic right now. I’m sorry. I’m so, so, so sorry. I’d do anything to take it back.” Her chest heaves. “I love you, Saebyeok. I fucking love you more than anything else in the entire world. You’re it for me. You’ve always been it.”

Saebyeok’s eyes stay soft, listening in that quiet way of hers. And then—finally—her mouth tilts into a small, shaky smile. She glances down at the floor, her arms still firm around Jiyeong’s waist, holding her like she isn’t going anywhere.

“My little stupid girl…” Saebyeok finally breathes out, the words shaky but sure, and she pulls Jiyeong in tighter. “It’s okay. I’ve always… I’ve always felt the same for you too, Jiyeong. You fuckin’ saved me. You saved my life. Someone who was only in it for a fling wouldn’t—wouldn’t stick around like that. Wouldn’t fight for me the way you did.” She exhales, and Jiyeong feels the warmth of her breath through the fabric of her shirt. “So don’t you dare think I don’t know what I mean to you.”

And now Jiyeong smiles — a real one, not the practiced fake one — and she cries and she cries, and she’s so fucking happy she could die. She could die right here and not regret a single thing, because in the end, after everything, she’s in Saebyeok’s arms.

”When did you dye your hair?” Saebyeok pulls back, threading her fingers through her hair.

Jiyeong pulls back just enough to see her face. For a second, they just stare, breath mingling, eyes saying everything they can’t voice.

”Y’know…” she mutters. They’re closing in.

”Looks good on you.”

Then it’s the most natural thing in the world. Their lips graze each other and then slot together like two pieces of a jigsaw puzzle finally falling into place. They kiss, slow at first. Jiyeong holds the back of Saebyeok’s head, Saebyeok grabs Jiyeong’s waist. Then they kiss deeper — hungry, needing. The time doesn’t matter. The world outside doesn’t matter. It’s just them, the sound of their lips smacking against each other and the shitty fridge humming in the background.

Until Jiyeong tastes blood.

“Ow,” Saebyeok mutters, pulling back just a little, her fingers brushing her lip. It’s bleeding again.

For a split second, Jiyeong panics, but then Saebyeok smiles at her. Actually just smiles. And Jiyeong can’t help it, a shaky laugh breaks out of her.

They kissed that hard her lip busted open.

“Fuck yeah, dudes! They kissed!” Thanos explodes out of the bedroom, grinning ear to ear like he just won free weed or some shit. How does one have the energy this time of day? Right behind him, Namgyu shuffles in with a blanket cocooned around his shoulders, glaring like a pissed-off cat dragged out of bed.

Jiyeong jumps so hard her heart nearly cracks through her ribs. “Jesus Christ, can you not?!”

Saebyeok groans, pressing a hand over her bleeding lip as she slumps back onto the couch. “Always interrupting us,” she mutters, half annoyed, half embarrassed.

Thanos and Namgyu shuffle off to the kitchen, already starting their breakfast of energy drinks and cigarettes. Jiyeong grabs the disinfectant from the coffee table, cluttered with empty beer cans and an overflowing ashtray, and dabs it onto a paper towel.
”Stay still,” she says, settling beside Saebyeok. ”It’s gonna sting. A lot.”

Saebyeok flinches but closes her eyes. Oof. That’s gotta hurt like hell.

Jiyeong cleans the dried blood and then smirks, sticking a Hello Kitty patch over it, because why the hell shouldn’t she put a Hello Kitty patch on a battered badass?

”There,” she pats Saebyeok’s cheek gently. ”All good.”

”Don’t y’all got school today?” Namgyu calls from the kitchen, puffing on a cigarette, ”Getting pretty crowded here…”

Jiyeong blinks at him, deadpan. Seriously? “Oh yeah, Namgyu, because surviving a gang raid and getting your ass saved by cops totally fits into the 8:30 math class schedule.” She glares at him, because how is he even thinking about kicking them out right now?
She glances at Saebyeok, who’s cautiously eyeing the patch on her busted lip, and almost laughs. Even bruised and bloody, Saebyeok’s patience is somehow still better than Namgyu’s.

She leans in, kisses her so gently that it’s almost a ghost of a kiss since she doesn’t wanna hurt her. Saebyeok still blushes, smiles, looks down at her hands clasped together.

”I need a shower,” Saebyeok says, chuckling a little.

Yeah. She does. Jiyeong doubts there were any fucking showers at that strip club. Probably just cheap perfume, bad lighting and smoke that clung to your clothes.

”You know where the toilet is,” Thanos says, nodding towards the hall. Saebyeok starts to stand, still wincing slightly when she moves.

”Don’t waste the fucking hot water,” Namgyu mutters from the kitchen, cigarette between his lips and that eternal look of mild disgust plastered on his face as he watches her walk into the bathroom.

”Groggy ass, c’mere,” Thanos says.

Jiyeong glances away for two seconds and—oh, for fuck’s sake. She doesn’t even wanna turn around, but she does, and yeah, they’re already making out.

”Please!” she yells, covering her eyes. “Can you guys not start right now? Jesus.”

Namgyu grumbles something that sounds like, “This is why I wanted them gone, Thanos,” voice muffled against skin.

”I can hear you,” Jiyeong snaps, glaring. Rude-ass motherfucker.

One more night. Thank god.

They spend it on Thanos’s shitty sofa, half-asleep under some cigarette-stinking blanket, covering their ears with the pillows because Thanos and Namgyu are not quiet people when they’re fucking. There’s banging, moaning, laughter, and something that sounds like a table breaking.

Jiyeong stares up at the ceiling, eyes wide open. “Jesus Christ,” she whispers.

Saebyeok snorts next to her, “They’ve been at it for like, an hour.”

“More like three,” Jiyeong mutters. “I counted.”

Saebyeok hums.

The couch smells like beer and sweat and faint weed. Jiyeong can feel every spring digging into her back. Saebyeok’s arm is draped lazily over her waist, warm and heavy, and Jiyeong doesn’t dare move—partly because it’s comfortable, mostly because she just doesn’t want to lose that warmth.

By the time the sun starts bleeding through the blinds, the apartment’s dead quiet. Jiyeong gets up carefully, brushing crumbs off her shirt, and Saebyeok follows, eyes still half-closed. They pack their stuff—her jacket from under a pile of Thanos’s shirts, Saebyeok’s bag from the floor—and step around empty beer cans like a damn minefield.

In the hallway, Jiyeong takes one last look back into the bedroom.
Thanos and Namgyu are passed out on top of each other, blanket half-off, ashtray on the floor. Real picture of romance. She'll text Thanos later. Maybe.
If she can stand thinking about what she heard last night without wanting to bleach her brain.

So much for hospitality.

They step outside. It’s cold. The kind of cold that wakes you up and stings your face, but in a way that feels clean. Like breathing again after a storm. Jiyeong glances at Saebyeok, who’s squinting at the sunlight. She looks alive again. Tired, bruised, but alive. They don’t say much walking back to their place.
They don’t have to.

It smells of wet concrete and leaves and fall and Jiyeong can’t stop looking at Saebyeok.

When they reach the dorm door, Jiyeong exhales for what feels like the first real time in weeks. The place smells like them—faint perfume, laundry detergent, something warm under the dust—but it’s cold, untouched.

She leans her head against the door for a second and hums out a quiet, “Fuck…”

Then she feels Saebyeok’s hands. Starting at her waist. Sliding up, slow, deliberate, until her arms loop around Jiyeong’s middle and her chin rests on Jiyeong’s shoulder.

Jiyeong lets out a small laugh, soft and disbelieving, tracing her fingers through Saebyeok’s hair. The air feels thick. Still.

”You wanna uh…” Saebyeok whispers. Barely audible.

Jiyeong freezes, breath caught somewhere in her chest. Wanna what?

”Y’know,” Saebyeok starts, low, makes Jiyeongs chest flutter. Warm. She slides her arms around Jiyeongs waist again, and Jiyeongs around her shoulders, and they just look at each other for a little while. ”Nobody’s ever made me feel like this.”

Jiyeong shudders, leaning closer. Closer. Their lips brush. The air feels electric—too much and not enough all at once. She leans in, can feel Saebyeok’s breath tremble against her own.

”You just.. God, you make me feel so—” Saebyeok interrupts herself by locking their lips together.

The kiss is nothing like the first. It’s deeper, hungry, desperate in a way that feels like release, like they’ve both been holding their breath for too long. Jiyeong lets out a tiny sound against her lips — half gasp, half whimper — before she even realizes it’s hers. She freezes, eyes wide, face hot as hell.

Saebyeok pulls back just enough to smirk. “That a good sign?”

“Shut up,” Jiyeong mutters, but she’s smiling, and when Saebyeok laughs against her mouth, it’s impossible not to kiss her again.

Saebyeok takes over — just like that. One push, and Jiyeong’s back hits the mattress. It’s not soft or slow; it’s desperate. Their mouths find each other again, hot and fast, like they’ve been starving for weeks. She’s grinding her thigh against Jiyeongs crotch in a way that would make her 15 year old self orgasm in less than a minute. But she’s older now, wiser or some shit. She’ll hold back.

For now.

“Want to see you, Jiyeong,” Saebyeok murmurs, voice rough, forehead pressed to her shoulder.

Jiyeong breathes hard, skin slick with sweat. She can barely think, but somehow she still grins. “Yeah?” She breathes heavily. She’s warm and sticky with sweat. Couldn’t be fucking happier to follow through on Saebyeok’s wish.

She sits up enough so that she can pull off her t-shirt which she tosses to the side. She makes a bit of a show for Saebyeok as she unhooks her bra, bites her lip, looks into Saebyeok’s watchful eyes. It goes about half a minute of Saebyeok just looking at her with this hot gaze in her eyes before Jiyeong says anything.

“So? Like the painting?”

Saebyeok huffs a soft laugh, shakes her head, and leans in until their noses almost touch. “Better,” she whispers, peeling off her own shirt and bra slowly. Unsure.

Fuck, she’s beautiful. Her shoulders and chest are flushed red and the peaks of her nipples are hard. Jiyeong looks at her bare chest, traces an old scar that runs down under her right breast before she squeezes her breast gently, traces the nipple, makes Saebyeok sway into the touch and groan softly. Her body is lean and she's got a faint six pack on her stomach. Must’ve been working out for a while. It makes Jiyeong want to scream and to kiss and lick every inch of her body.

Saebyeok leans down, starts attacking Jiyeongs mouth with her own, and Jiyeong is in fucking gay heaven or some shit when she feels their breasts touch. Nipple to nipple. Who knew only boobs could feel this good?

God, it’s ethereal.

Saebyeok’s cold fingers reach down and start playing with Jiyeongs nipples, tweaks them, makes her squirm for a while. She moans softly as Saebeyok tongues around them, bites them gently.

”Saeby—ah..” She cuts herself off with a moan. She’s fucking gone by now. She can’t hold back much longer. She wraps her thighs tighter around Saebyeok’s waist, grinds up against her. The ball of heat in her abdomen is warming up, it’s cracking. It’s wet and fire and raw need.

”Yeah..?” An answer. Quiet.

”Please…”

Saebyeok looks up at her, confirming. Yes, yes she wants this. She wants it so bad. Kisses trail down her chest to her belly, squirming, down to her pelvis where Saebyeok starts tugging her pants off and sets her head between her thighs.

Shit, maybe she should’ve shaved. The past few weeks had eaten up all her time, and self-care had gone straight out the window. But fuck it—Saebyeok’s staring at her, hot, wet, desperate, and clearly not giving a damn about anything else.

”You’re so hot, babe..” She says lowly, as she breathes around her, mouthing around her sensitive clit before she just goes in. Jiyeong throws her head back and moans, loud and messy. Holy fuck, she’s never been this damn turned on in her entire life. Not with anyone. Jiyeong looks down at her, fingers threading through Saebyeok’s black, messy hair, and watches her eat her out like it’s a damn five-star Michelin restaurant. Dessert time.

Eventually, two of Saebyeok’s fingers slide in, easy, slick, pressing and curling just right against that spot inside her while her tongue keeps up that brutal, relentless pace on her clit. Jiyeong can’t fucking take it anymore. Her thighs quake, spreading impossibly further from each other, body trembling and taut, every nerve screaming, and she’s so, so, so close.

She desperately cards through Saebyeok’s hair, gasping, ”I’m gonna… fuck, Saebyeok, I’m—”

And then—boom. Heat explodes through her. It’s messy, chaotic, like fireworks shooting off in every direction. One second she’s flat on the bed with Saebyeok eating her out like her life depends on it, the next she’s floating in a non gravity capsule with Saebyeok held so impossibly close she could die.

She must be dead. She’s gotta be.

When the orgasm finally fades, she slumps onto the mattress, sticky, sweaty, gasping, hair plastered to her forehead. Her limbs flop over the side like a ragdoll, one leg tangled with Saebyeok’s arms, the other hanging off the bed.

Saebyeok climbs up, grinning like a smug little imp, wiping her mouth and glistening chin, and Jiyeong can’t help but let out a shaky laugh between breaths.

”Fuckkkk,” she groans, nuzzling into Saebyeok’s shoulder. ”That was… holy shit, that was insane.”

Saebyeok smirks, brushing a sticky strand of hair off Jiyeong’s face. ”You look ridiculous right now.” She teases. ”You’re like a puddle.”

Jiyeong laughs again, muffled against Saebyeok’s neck, heat still pulsing through her veins. ”Want me to… uh, finish you off?” she asks, a little too eager, but fuck it. Can you blame her?

Saebyeok chuckles, looking down. ”I kinda already came.”

Jiyeong’s eyebrows raise in surprise. ”Huh? Wait… how?”

Saebyeok shrugs casually, leaning closer. ”One finger down there while I was eating you out… and yeah. Done.”

She smiles into the kiss — soft, warm, her, home.

Jiyeong’s grin stretches stupidly wide — God, she loves this girl. She presses a kiss to Saebyeok’s lips, her breath still shaky. “That easy, huh?”

“What can I say? You’re a lot,” she chuckles, lazy and low.

Jiyeong laughs quietly and pulls her closer, arms tight around her waist. They stay like that — hot, sticky, naked — for what feels like forever. Just breathing. Just holding. Colliding together until their bodies melt and there’s nothing else in this damn universe but just them.

That is, at least until the heat becomes too much and they have to pull apart, fumbling for their t-shirts and tugging them on over their heads. Jiyeong reaches for her panties, but they’re a damn slip ’n slide, so she just tosses them straight into the laundry basket instead. Saebyeok grins like an idiot.

It’s early Saturday morning. Jiyeong doesn’t even know what time it is, but she can hear the faint smatter of rain against the window.

God, she loves the rain.

She loves Saebyeok. Who just fucking performed perfect cunnilingus on her, by the way.

Could this day get any better?