Archive of Our Own ^beta

Minhee stands by the rail at the arrivals area, eyes scanning the stream of travelers coming from immigration and flowing through the sliding doors. According to the announcement board, Jisung’s plane had arrived early, so her childhood best friend should be showing up any minute soon.

The hum of chatter in her surroundings mixed with the occasional announcement over the PA system makes it hard for Minhee to focus. It’s been a while since she last saw Jisung—almost two years, which is when Minhee last visited their hometown—and even though Minhee doubts that her looks would have changed that much over that period, she feels strangely anxious anyway.

She checks her phone for messages—at least the 5th time over the last 20 minutes—and still nothing. As if she’s in a movie, though, when she looks up again, she immediately spots the person she’s waiting for: Han Jisung, in the flesh.

Her hair is longer than Minhee remembers, brushing past her shoulders in loose waves that frame her round face. It's darker in color as well, back to the dark brown Minhee remembers from their childhood as opposed to the honey blonde she was sporting the last time Minhee visited home. She’s wearing a cropped pastel cardigan layered over a gray fitted tank top, the hem of the cardigan hitting just above the waistband of her hip-hugging capri pants. On her feet is a pair of platform sneakers that add to her height—which makes Minhee laugh, because of course they do. She’s lugging a huge black suitcase behind her, while her familiar guitar bag is slung over her shoulder. Jisung is glancing around the terminal, scouring the crowd, her expression a mixture of tired and anxious.

“Jisung-ah!” Minhee calls; she isn’t usually very good at raising her voice, so she yells again, with more volume. “Han Jisung!”

Jisung turns to the direction where she hears her name coming from, and as soon as she spots Minhee, her entire face lights up, replacing the weariness she’d been sporting just seconds earlier.

Minhee waves her over and Jisung weaves through the airport crowd to amble towards her.

“Unnie!” she exclaims with palpable relief. She lets go of her suitcase and places the guitar bag on the ground as soon as she reaches Minhee, not hesitating at all before throwing herself at her.

The older woman huffs, caught in surprise yet happily catching her best friend with both arms. The way Jisung relaxes into her embrace isn't missed—if anything it has Minhee tightening her hold around the younger.

Jisung had called her two days ago, sounding quite distraught. “I need somewhere to go, unnie,” she’d said, and without asking for any explanation, Minhee responded simply,

“I have room. Book a flight and come on over.”

She lives in a tiny studio apartment, but she does have a queen-size bed. That's room enough.

“Hey, wait—” Minhee notices Jisung let out a shaky breath, and she realizes that Jisung is sniffling. She pulls away slightly so she can squint at the other girl. “Why are you crying?”

“I missed you,” Jisung mumbles, now furiously rubbing her eyes with the sleeve of her cardigan.

Minhee laughs. “I missed you too,” she returns.

She has a feeling there's more to Jisung’s tears, but she doesn't press; she never does. In their many years of friendship, this has always been how they operated. They open up on their own time and volition, and whenever one needs help, the other is there, no questions asked.

“Come on,” she says gently, taking Jisung’s hand into hers while reaching for the handle of her suitcase with her other one. “Let's get you out of here—I borrowed my friend’s car so I’m your chauffeur for today. You wanna go home directly, or do you want to get coffee?”

When Jisung lights up, Minhee immediately knows what her answer is. “Alright then,” she says, looping her arm through Jisung’s as she leads the way to the exit. “I know just where we can go.”

Minhee was seven, and Jisung, five, when they first met as children.

Minhee’s family had only recently moved to town, and her parents believed that attending church regularly would help them integrate more easily into the local Korean-American community. On Minhee’s first day at Sunday school, she’d been met with the sight of a little girl on the front steps of the building, quietly sobbing.

“Why are you crying?” she had asked.

The girl, whose eyes had been red and whose pigtails had been slightly askew, looked up in surprise, but it took her only a second to get over the intrusion—almost as if she’d been waiting for someone, anyone, to come up to her and ask what was wrong.

She held up her Bible which was decorated with colorful stickers. “Yeji was giving out Hello Kitty stickers, and Hyunjin took the last one!” Jisung sobbed. “She knows I love Hello Kitty! She doesn’t even like Hello Kitty…!” She started crying again, and Minhee, an only child who always got what she wanted, and who never experienced the act of comforting a younger child, had been at a complete loss.

“Oh.” Minhee could only sit next to the crying girl and pat her shoulder—she’s seen her mother do this to her father before when he had been upset. “Oh!” She recalled something else—her mother had gone shopping for her back-to-school supplies earlier that week. “I have stickers of dancing cats at home—they’re not Hello Kitty but you can have some if you want!”

Jisung’s sobbing quieted, and after a few beats, she looked up at Minhee with big, puffy eyes. “Can I, really?” she asked.

“They’re at home, though,” Minhee clarified. “Do you want to come over?”

“I’d have to ask my umma,” Jisung answered. “I’m not allowed to go with strangers.”

“Oh. I’m Lee Minhee,” she introduced herself, as if that was enough to solve the problem.

“I’m Han Jisung.”

And when Jisung’s parents arrived to pick her up later that day, Minhee and her mother were there with her, ready to introduce themselves and ask for permission. From that day forward, for the rest of their childhood—right up until Minhee left the suburbs for the big city—they were inseparable.

Despite being two years apart, they naturally gravitated toward each other, drawn together by interests they grew to share, as well as an unspoken understanding that they developed from spending so much time together. Minhee had a magnetic quality that pulled people in, making her popular at school and beyond, but Jisung remained her number one.

Jisung, younger and more sensitive, felt freer to be herself around Minhee and her excitement always brightened Minhee’s days. An only child, Minhee had grown used to loneliness—but the way Jisung clung to her and depended on her filled that empty space.

After a leisurely detour to Minhee’s favorite local café for coffee and lunch, she takes Jisung home to get her settled. Despite her bold offer of putting up Jisung, her apartment isn’t really that spacious—it’s barely enough room for one adult person, and she’s apologetic when she shows Jisung the small closet space she managed to clear for her.

“Forgot to consider how many clothes and shoes you have,” she retorts with a light chuckle. “Sorry.”

Jisung laughs and shakes her head. “I’m the one intruding, unnie. I don’t need closet space—I can just keep my things in my suitcase.”

“Hey.” Minhee gives her a pointed look. “No way I’m letting you do that. My space is always going to be your space.” She doesn’t say it out loud, but frankly, she would willingly throw out half of her wardrobe if it means making Jisung feel more at home. “We’ll figure it out, okay?”

Jisung nods, smiling gratefully. It doesn’t quite reach her eyes which tugs at Minhee’s heartstrings. There’s unspoken tension in the air because while they had spent time that day chatting, it had been mostly Minhee catching Jisung up on her life. Jisung, on the other hand, still hasn’t shared why she had needed to leave home so suddenly. Minhee refuses to push her, choosing to give Jisung the space she needs instead, but that doesn’t mean she isn’t wracked with worry and overcome with curiosity.

She does ask, however,

“What are your plans while you're in the city?”

Jisung grimaces and Minhee almost regrets it.

“Find a job, first thing,” Jisung answers eventually.

“Does that mean you’ll be here for a while?” She tries to sound all cool and calm about it, but Minhee can’t deny that she’s pretty happy about having Jisung around, whatever the reason for it may be.

“Don’t worry,” Jisung immediately gestures around. “I’m not going to be some kind of deadweight—that’s why I want to find a paying job as soon as possible.”

“Calm down, Jisung,” Minhee tells her gently. “You can’t ever be deadweight to me. I’m only asking because I can help get you a job.”

“Oh.” Jisung brightens up. “What kind?”

“The diner I used to work at has an opening for a waitress, and if I vouch for you, the job is pretty much as good as yours.”

“Oh,” Jisung repeats, expression hesitating.

Understandably, because Jisung has never really held a customer-facing service job before, and Minhee knows from experience how grueling waitressing can be—the constant movement, the long hours on her feet, the pressure of juggling multiple orders, and the emotional labor of staying polite even when customers are rude or demanding.

“You can always sign up for a temp agency, but the tips at Super Bowl are great,” Minhee pitches. “And the people there are nice—both the staff and all the regulars. If I ask, they’ll help you out and go easy on you,” she assures Jisung. “At least for a couple of weeks as you learn the ropes.”

Jisung nods, smiling. “If you think I can do it, unnie, I’ll try it out.”

Despite herself, and despite the trouble that is clearly plaguing her best friend, Minhee feels excitement kickstart inside her. Frankly, she’s been without her Jisung for too long.

It’s been four years since she left their shared suburban hometown to move to a bustling metropolitan city. It wasn’t even that she was hoping to make it big; Minhee simply wanted to experience more from life. Once there, she enrolled at community college to earn credits towards becoming a physical therapist assistant, finally getting her certification just several months ago. Now she works with elderly patients at a nursing home while still continuing her education, with plans to eventually become a licensed physical therapist.

Jisung, on the other hand, went to a small liberal arts college just a few hours away from home—the furthest she’s ever been from their childhood town. She’s still two or three semesters worth of credits away from graduating as far as Minhee knows, but that seems to be just another thing that Jisung has put on pause right now.

“Unnie, thank you,” Jisung tells Minhee after they finish emptying half of her suitcase into Minhee’s closet.

Minhee hums; from her perspective, Jisung doesn’t even really have to mention it. “Anything for you, Hannie,” she says, using an old nickname she’d bestowed on Jisung—Hannie, similar sounding to honey—because Jisung has always been the sweetness in her life.

Shampoo, Minhee’s cat, who had been silently watching from the windowsill, finally decides to make her presence known by hopping onto the bed and curling up on Jisung’s half-unpacked clothes.

Jisung laughs, reaching over to scratch the fluffy tabby behind the ears. “Guess I have Shampoo’s approval.”

“She’s selective,” Minhee jokes, though it’s not entirely untrue. “But yeah, seems you passed her muster.”

“I’ll tell you what happened, okay?” Jisung whispers. “I just need time to sort it out in my head.”

“I know,” Minhee assures, patting her on the shoulder—in the exact same manner she once did when they were children; Jisung smiles at her gratefully, and Minhee is just glad that Jisung is here, and that distance and time away from each other have not deteriorated what they have always shared.

Two weeks into Jisung’s stay, she’s settled in well. Minhee cleared out more closet space, so Jisung no longer lives halfway out of her suitcase. The fridge is stocked with her favorite yogurt drinks alongside Minhee’s diet soda, and the toothbrush holder now holds two instead of one. They still share a bed, but at least it’s a queen—an upgrade from the cramped single they used to squeeze into for sleepovers as teens.

She also took the waitressing job Minhee recommended, and despite a few broken plates that are coming out of her paycheck, she’s handling it quite well.

The thing about Han Jisung is that people tend to underestimate her, to the point that even she second-guesses herself. But Minhee, who has been observing her since childhood, knows the truth: Jisung is adaptable. After just a week and a half at Super Bowl, she’s gotten the hang of it. Pretty good for someone who has never waitressed before.

Tonight, with Jisung having received her first paycheck, Minhee picked her up and took her to a newly opened KBBQ restaurant across the city. They had needed to deal with a bit of heavy traffic, but Minhee thinks a little celebration makes the dreadful trip worth it.

Minhee and Jisung sit next to each other in the restaurant like they always do, their table already filled with side dishes as the first cuts of meat sizzle on the grill. Minhee expertly tends to the meat while Jisung picks at it, sneaking pieces for herself as soon as they’re cooked through.

“This is nice,” Jisung comments, chewing while picking at the kimchi. “Reminds me of Aunty Hojung’s place.”

Minhee hums. Choi Hojung was someone who went to the same Sunday service as their families; she owned a KBBQ restaurant that they used to frequent when they were younger.

“I swear, half the congregation treated it like an extension of the church,” Jisung adds.

Minhee huffs a laugh, flipping a piece of pork belly. “Yeah, because it kind of was. Everyone knew everyone. You couldn’t eat a meal in peace—or worse, you can't do service without at least three aunties stopping by to ask about school.”

“There was a time when you always smelled like charcoal smoke and sesame oil because of that place,” Jisung comments with a giggle.

Minhee worked there part-time for a couple of years when they were teenagers, her first ever paying job. “Don’t laugh. It was so hard to get that smell out of my hair and clothes!”

“Those were good times, though. I miss your employee discount,” Jisung jests.

Minhee huffs, rolls her eyes, and proceeds to stuff Jisung’s mouth with a small wrap she just made. Jisung whines in response, but she does smile with her eyes as she carefully chews the food.

Despite the smile, however, Minhee is still able to detect the tinge of longing and nostalgia in her expression. Just like that, she’s reminded of the other reason she wanted to take Jisung out to dinner.

Jisung still hasn’t told her the full story of what happened back home. Minhee has been patient—she’s trying, anyway—but both worry and curiosity have started to gnaw at her.

Not to mention, the other day, Christopher Bang called.

They had all grown up together, as the Bangs attended the same Sunday service as the Lees and Hans. Chris was one of the popular kids: friendly, outgoing, a natural leader. It also factored in that his family was well-off, owning several local businesses.

When they were little girls, Jisung’s first crush had been Chris. He didn't really see her the same way, though—not until after high school, long after Minhee had already left town. One day, out of the blue, Jisung had called Minhee, breathless with excitement, and shared, “Chris-oppa asked me on a date.”

Now, years later, it’s Chris calling Minhee instead—because that date had blossomed into a long-term relationship, and now Chris is also Jisung’s ex-fiancé; the one she had left high and dry very recently. The one she abandoned in favor of jetting to the big city, leaving everything she knew in favor of taking up space in Minhee’s tiny studio apartment.

“Jisung is with you, right?” he had asked Minhee.

“I guess you already know the answer to that,” Minhee shot back. She knows Chris to be a good man, but she can’t help but wonder if he had anything to do with whatever secrets Jisung has been keeping to herself. Besides, anyone who knew Jisung would logically assume she’d gone to Minhee.

“Is she okay?” Chris asked.

“Do you want to tell me what happened?” Minhee countered.

“She hasn’t told you?”

Minhee fell silent. That was a fair assumption too. She and Jisung told each other everything—maybe not right away, but always when it mattered.

“I thought maybe she was protecting you,” Minhee mumbled; in return she heard Chris sigh over the line.

“Well, I’m glad she’s with you,” Chris said. “That means she’s safe.”

It was a sweet thing to say. Really, it was. But it still annoyed Minhee. There was something about his tone—just the slightest hint of condescension. Knowing Chris, he probably didn’t mean it that way, but it didn’t change the fact that Minhee still had no idea what had actually happened. What had made Jisung walk away from her family, her fiancé, her entire life?

She glances at Jisung now, sitting across from her, cheeks full as she happily chews on a bite of pork.

“Hannie,” Minhee begins gently, flipping over another strip of meat on the grill.

“Hmm?” Jisung looks up, cheeks adorably full. “What is it?” she asks after swallowing. “You were right, I'm glad you brought me here, unnie. Feels a bit like home.”

Minhee chuckles, momentarily distracted. “Well, we've got the Hallyu wave to thank for a place like this opening up here. God bless Winter Sonata.”

Jisung laughs, eyes twinkling with delight, “All hail Bae Yongjun.”

For a second, Jisung’s smile and relaxed countenance has Minhee considering letting things go. But as she chews on a piece of meat herself, she mulls it over and decides it's better for them both to be open. Keeping secrets for too long isn’t like them, and she doesn't want to set a precedent.

“Hannie,” Minhee attempts again.

“Yes, unnie?”

“What happened?”

Jisung visibly freezes, jaw tightening after she swallows the food in her mouth. She glances sideways at Minhee, looking like a deer caught in headlights.

“What do you mean?” Jisung asks, words stilted, obviously trying to deflect but failing terribly at it.

“Chris-oppa called,” Minhee reveals, and Jisung winces. “Did he do anything? Is that why you broke things off… you did break things off with him, right?” She realizes that Jisung has never actually confirmed this; Minhee has been simply operating on this assumption, in part because Jisung isn’t wearing her engagement ring—the one she had emailed Minhee a ton of pictures of, when Chris had proposed several months ago.

Jisung nods curtly. “Yes,” she confirms. “We broke up…” she sighs. “I broke up with him.”

Minhee frowns. “Do you want to tell me why?”

“Yes.” Jisung unnecessarily pushes around the meat on the grill with her metal chopsticks, clearly some kind of delaying tactic.

Minhee sighs, because Jisung is clearly still not ready to talk about whatever it is that happened. It hurts a little, because when did Jisung start being unable to confide in Minhee?

“Okay,” she says anyway, placing a piece of meat on Jisung’s plate. “Just eat.”

“Are you mad, unnie?”

Minhee presses her lips together and shakes her head. “I’m not. A little frustrated,” she admits, “but I’m not angry.” She flashes a smile. “Let’s just stuff ourselves. You can tell me when you decide to tell me.”

Jisung smiles, rueful and grateful at the same time. “Thank you.”

“You’re lucky I love you,” Minhee says in a very deadpan tone.

“I know,” Jisung agrees. “I love you too, unnie.”

Because it’s them, dinner didn't stay awkward for long. They settled into an easy rhythm—Jisung chatted about her day at the diner, complaining about a particularly demanding customer, while Minhee shared stories about the new patient she was working with at the nursing home. They laughed, poked fun at each other, and for a little while, things felt normal.

When they get home, Minhee leaves Jisung to herself and heads straight for the shower. Between work and the emotional weight of navigating the whole Jisung situation, the day has felt impossibly long. The hot water soothes her, washing away the tension clinging to her shoulders. By the time she steps out, fresh and rejuvenated, she almost feels ready to face whatever comes next.

She towels off her hair as she walks back into the room—and then stops.

Jisung is sitting cross-legged in the middle of the bed, cradling her guitar, absentmindedly strumming random chords. Shampoo is curled up beside her, tail flicking lazily with each soft vibration of the strings. Her brows are furrowed in concentration, her lips pressed into a thoughtful line.

Minhee leans against the doorframe, watching. “I almost forgot that you brought that with you.”

There was a time in their childhood when Jisung and her guitar were almost as inseparable as Minhee and Jisung themselves. She had been self taught, the instrument a hand-me-down from her older brother whose teenage rockstar aspirations lasted for barely a year before he gave up. Jisung consequently discovered her love and affinity for music, and in turn, Minhee discovered how much she liked to listen to Jisung play, to hear her sing. In the weeks since she’s been in the city, however, the guitar had only been gathering dust in a corner of Minhee’s apartment.

Jisung plucks a soft melody, something slow and familiar. A song that was popular during their childhood, back when things were simpler. “Just haven’t really had time to play,” she comments.

Minhee walks over and sits beside her on the bed, careful not to disturb Shampoo, who meows sleepily in protest. Jisung absentmindedly strokes the cat’s head, fingers stilling over the guitar strings. For a long moment, neither of them say anything. Then, in a voice barely above a whisper,

“I don’t know where to start,” Jisung murmurs.

“With the song?” Minhee feigns ignorance.

Jisung shakes her head. “How to tell you what happened,” she clarifies. “Because it’s all my fault.”

Minhee’s brow furrows with concern. “Hannie, you know you can tell me anything. Even if it’s your fault… I’ll still be on your side.” She pauses, nudging Jisung with a smile. “Remember when you were 8, and you broke your mother’s expensive Chinaware—and you tried to pin it on your brother, but you got caught? So you ‘ran away’.”

The reality of Jisung’s “running away” was that she had shown up at Lees’ front door one afternoon, her Rainbow Brite backpack stuffed with bottles of Yakult, goldfish crackers and her favorite stuffed rabbit. “I ran away,” was all she told Minhee, who opened the door for her. “To here?” a slightly older, more rational Minhee asked, but when Jisung nodded, that was all there had been to it. She let her friend inside, and her own parents played along. The two of them spent the afternoon watching cartoons, eating tangerines, and pretending that Jisung’s grand escape was something bigger than it was. She slept over, and by the next morning, Minhee’s mother had sent her back home where Jisung’s own mother was waiting, not angry—just exasperated, but ready to welcome her daughter with open arms.

In some ways, Minhee wonders if this is something similar to that—Jisung running away from silly but overwhelming problems.

Jisung gives a small, dry laugh, but there’s little humor in it. “Of course I do. And I know you always were on my side—always are. But I’m not sure if you should be.”

Minhee doesn’t hesitate. “Just tell me.”

Jisung exhales shakily, arms tightening around her guitar like it’s some kind of security measure. “I… I cheated.”

Minhee blinks; she certainly was not expecting that—maybe less silly, more overwhelming then. She swallows down her initial reaction, careful to keep her expression neutral. “Okay,” she says carefully. “Keep talking. Was it… anyone I know?”

Jisung hesitates, before dropping a second bombshell. “It was with a woman.”

Minhee’s stomach twists. “A woman?”

Jisung nods. “A friend. From university.”

Minhee stares at her. She had never once considered that Jisung might like women. Minhee herself had come out early—at thirteen, she had confidently admitted to Jisung that she was attracted to girls. Jisung had been nothing but understanding, but in the decade since then, she has never said anything about going through anything similar herself.

“So…” Minhee chooses her words carefully. “What does that mean?”

Jisung’s fingers fidget over the guitar strings. “I’ve… I’ve felt attraction towards girls before. But I never really thought much of it. I liked guys too, so I guess I just figured it wasn’t something I had to deal with.”

Minhee’s chest tightens. “Why didn’t you tell me?” So much for sharing everything with each other; apparently Jisung has had a secret as big as this for a while now, and Minhee can’t help that it stings a little.

Jisung hesitates. When she finally speaks, her voice is quiet. “When we were younger… I was afraid you’d think I was copying you.”

Minhee stares at her, incredulous and uncomprehending. “What?”

Jisung whines and covers her face with her hands with embarrassment. “When you first came out, I hadn't realized it yet. It wasn't until years later… when you were in high school, and I was still in middle school. You were making all sorts of new friends, and a part of me felt like I could get left behind if I did even one wrong thing. I didn’t want to be the annoying younger friend trailing after you. I was scared that if I told you I liked girls too, you’d think I was trying hard to be just like you and resent me for it.”

Minhee lets out a disbelieving chuckle. “That’s ridiculous. I would have never—”

“I know that now,” Jisung sighs. “But back then… I was young and stupid.”

Minhee reaches over and hooks her pinky with Jisung’s. “Very stupid,” she agrees with a snort.

Jisung huffs. “Anyway… after I got my first boyfriend, it felt like it didn’t matter so much anymore. And then I just kept on dating guys, you know? Right up until Chris-oppa.”

Minhee nods slowly. “So then what happened?”

Jisung lets out a bitter laugh. “Then Chris asked me to marry him. I said yes, because what reason did I have to say no? But in that moment, the world felt like it was closing in on me.” Her voice tightens. “I could see what my future looked like—everything set, everything rigid. Did you know he even started talking about how a job was waiting for me at his family’s department store?”

“Yeah?”

Jisung hums. “He said once I get my accounting degree, it would be a perfect fit.” She grimaces. “Meanwhile, I was thinking… I’ve never even kissed a girl.” She pauses. “Stupid, right? At first, it felt like such a random thought—but it wasn’t. I think it’s always been there, a constant thought that I refused to entertain until it felt like I couldn’t ignore it anymore.”

Minhee remains quiet, listening and trying to process everything Jisung is saying. She had essentially promised not to judge, but that’s really the easy part.

“I guess this is where Mari comes in,” Jisung continues softly. “Mariko—I think I told you about her?”

Minhee nods; the name is familiar. Jisung’s favorite study buddy, if she recalls correctly.

“We spent a lot of time together. Late nights studying. She’s really pretty. Like… super beautiful. I’m pretty sure there were pictures of us in the last batch I emailed you?”

Minhee feels something kind of funny stirring in her stomach, but she can’t identify it, so she ignores it and focuses on Jisung. “Long black hair? Japanese girl?”

“That’s her,” Jisung confirms. “I think I was attracted to her from the start, but I had Chris, so it didn’t matter.”

Minhee’s pulse quickens. “So… who made the first move?”

Jisung looks at her, shame flickering in her eyes. “I did.”

Minhee swallows, and the twisting in her stomach worsens. “And then what happened?"

Jisung winces. “At first, it was just one kiss, one time… but there became a next time, and a next, next time—things just escalated.”

Minhee shifts, an uneasy feeling settling over her. “So you and this Mariko…?”

Jisung doesn’t make her say it; she nods. “Yeah. We had sex.”

“Ah.”

Jisung groans and buries her face in her hands. Shampoo, who is nestled between the two of them, lazily stretches and presses a soft paw against Jisung’s arm, as if sensing her distress. “I’m sorry,” Jisung mutters.

Minhee frowns. “Why are you apologizing to me?”

Jisung lets out a shaky breath. “You must be disappointed in me.”

Minhee snorts. “You didn’t do this to me, Hannie.”

Jisung exhales. “I actually did apologize to Chris-oppa too.”

Minhee’s stomach clenches. “So he knows?”

Jisung averts her gaze. “Yeah. I came clean to him, and apologized.”

“What did he say? How did he react?”

“Of course he was really hurt.” Jisung winces, and Minhee can tell her eyes are glassy with threatening tears. “But you know him—he's always too kind. He barely even raised his voice at me. Was just very sad and disappointed and hurt. Honestly, it felt worse that way—but I deserve to feel awful anyway.”

Silence stretches between them. Minhee exhales, running a hand through her damp hair. Shampoo hops off the bed and saunters over to the windowsill, tail flicking, perhaps in disapproval at the tension hanging in the air. Minhee asks, “This Mariko person… do you—” she hesitates. “Are you in love with her?”

Jisung cringes. “No.” She shakes her head. “I liked her enough. I liked how she made me feel when she touched me, but… I don’t know.” She takes a deep breath. “I’ve been thinking a lot about why I did it, and I still don’t have the full answer, unnie. If anything, I think it means that I wasn’t ready. That Chris-oppa wasn’t the one I could see spending the rest of my life with.”

Minhee nods slowly, absorbing everything.

Jisung looks down, voice small. “I blew up my entire life for a woman I don’t even have strong feelings for.”

Minhee stays quiet for a moment before reaching over, squeezing her hand again.

“Maybe,” she says softly. “Or, like you said, maybe you just weren’t meant for that life in the first place.”

Jisung turns to face Minhee, a faint smile dancing on her lips. “And that’s why I’m here. To figure out what life it is that’s meant for me. I’ve always admired that about you—how you got out of our town and went to find an adventure for yourself.”

“I thought you hated me for leaving, honestly.”

Jisung laughs. “I do. Did. A little. But that’s just because I missed you every single day. But you’re always admirable to me, unnie. Aspirational, even.”

Shampoo jumps back onto the bed then, landing between them, meowing as if adding her own commentary. Minhee chuckles and scratches behind the cat’s ears.

“So now you’re actually copying me,” Minhee teases. “Dropping everything to move to the city.”

Jisung squeaks, and hits Minhee on the arm. “Don’t tease me.”

Minhee grins. “I’m happy you went to me, Hannie. You… we’ll figure it out, okay?”

“Earth to Minhee.”

Chaebin snaps her fingers in front of Minhee’s face, dragging her back to the present.

“Huh?” Minhee blinks. She isn’t sure she caught anything her friend and coworker had been saying.

“Are you even here?” Chaebin scoffs. “You’ve been distracted all day. Even Mrs. Green asked if you were okay.”

Mrs. Green is one of Minhee’s favorite residents at the nursing home—not that she’d ever admit it out loud. In her 70s, the woman is sharp as ever, even if her body is slowly betraying her. It’s not surprising that she, out of everyone, noticed something amiss with Minhee.

“I’m fine,” Minhee answers, a little too clipped.

She’s given a pointed look in response.

Seo Chaebin is a junior nutritionist at the nursing home where Minhee works. They’re close in age, and started their jobs around the same time. Somewhere between the endless staff meetings, chaotic meal schedules, and whispered vent sessions about their most difficult patients, they became friends.

Chaebin is the kind of friend who will push and prod at Minhee’s walls, and the main thing about her is how annoyingly perceptive she can be, even at the worst of times. She always makes Minhee feel like she’s being seen through, and for someone like Minhee, who prefers to keep her cards close, it’s more than a little irritating.

“If you say so,” Chaebin says, sounding entirely unconvinced.

Minhee sighs; ultimately she’s unable to keep it in. “Jisung told me something.”

“Jisung? Hannie Jisung? Childhood best friend extraordinaire?”

Minhee glares at her. “Do I have any other Jisung that I talk about?”

“Do you have any other person you talk about?” Chaebin retorts teasingly.

“You know what? Never mind. I’m not having this conversation with you.” Minhee picks up her chopsticks and takes a deliberate bite of her homemade kimbap.

Chaebin grins. “Oh, come on.” She throws an arm around Minhee’s shoulders. “I’m just kidding! Damn—why are you so testy today?”

Minhee ignores her and tries her best to counter the instinct she has to chew aggressively.

“So?” Chaebin nudges her. “What did she tell you?”

Minhee hesitates, her chewing slowing down. She glares at her friend, but once again, she caves in the end. In a low voice, she lays out Jisung’s revelations to her—the infidelity, the girl, the confession about liking women all this time.

Chaebin quietly listens, only nodding along to acknowledge what Minhee is saying. And then, finally, after Minhee is done talking, she tilts her head, “And?”

Minhee frowns. “What do you mean and?”

“I mean—does any of it matter? Does it… change anything?”

“She cheated, Chaebin.”

“Is that what really bothers you?”

“No—I don't know.” Minhee winces. “I guess not really. I think… that scares me a little, honestly.”

“Scares you? Why?”

“Because I think I understand?” Minhee grimaces. “Because I’m fine with it, and I never thought I’d be the kind of person that condones cheating.”

“I see.” Chaebin nods with understanding. “Is that all?”

Minhee exhales sharply as she sets her chopsticks down. “I… don't know,” she repeats helplessly.

“I think you're biased. We all are, when it comes to people who are important to us.” Chaebin shrugs. “We work harder on understanding them better.”

“I suppose.” Minhee frowns, nibbling on her bottom lip as she grapples with the other things running through her mind. “The other thing is, Jisung has always been… forbidden.” She's unsure if that's the right word she's looking for, but she doesn't know how else to explain it. “There was a line between us that I never even let myself approach, let alone cross because I had decided that it wasn't allowed. She's my best friend. I never wanted her to be… I guess—uncomfortable? With my sexuality? So I never even allowed myself to think about her that way.”

Chaebin lets out an exasperated sigh. “And now?”

“And now she's right here,” Minhee hisses. “But—is she really? Isn't it wrong to suddenly allow myself past that line just because I found out that she's open to women? Isn't that kind of predatory?” Minhee shudders. “I refuse to be a fucking predator.”

Chaebin blinks at her before bursting into laughter; Minhee glares at her in response.

“Why are you being so dramatic?” Chaebin snorts. “You don't sound like yourself. Is this really you? Did aliens come and abduct you in the middle of the night—?” Minhee scowls, and Chaebin laughs before continuing, “Or is this just how you are when it comes to this Jisung? You should really let me meet her.”

“No,” Minhee huffs.

Chaebin laughs even more. “Listen to yourself, unnie. Predator,” she mocks. “Why are you acting like you've become some creepy old professor leering at his young, impressionable student?”

“Gross.” Minhee makes a face.

“Exactly. That's not you!”

Minhee sighs. “I just don't want it to be… to seem like…”

“What? Convenient? Or?” Chaebin rolls her eyes. “God forbid you allow yourself to want something—someone!”

Minhee crosses her arms, jaw tightening. “It's just… yes! I don't want to suddenly like her because it's convenient! Why should I? Besides, just because two women like women in general, it doesn't mean they should automatically be together—look at us.”

Chaebin snorts. “Sure, but I’m not someone you've ever referred to as your soulmate.”

“Jisung calls us that,” Minhee clarifies. “Not me.”

“Exactly!” Chaebin laughs. “Do you even hear yourself?

“I hate you.”

“Nah,” Chaebin shakes her head. “You love me, you're just in a very rare crisis mode. Consider me entertained.”

“Fuck,” Minhee groans. “My best friend cheated on her fiancé, and here I am wondering what it could mean for us? I’m fucked in the head.”

“Yes,” Chaebin readily agrees. “Love you anyway, unnie!”

“Minhee-unnie,” Jisung whispers.

It's late, almost midnight, days past their last heart to heart. The apartment is mostly quiet, the only sounds coming from outside—the constant, 24 hour buzzing of a busy metropolitan city.

Shampoo is curled up at the foot of the bed, silent in her sleep, and the faint glow of a street lamp outside, filtering through the curtains, is the only illumination the room sees.

Minhee herself is on the verge of sleep, tired from a long day of work, when Jisung’s voice pulls her back to wakefulness.

“I’ve been thinking,” Jisung continues softly.

“And that's news?” Minhee retorts, teasing, despite the clear drowsiness in her tone.

Jisung huffs and lightly elbows her side. “Unnie,” she whines, and even though Minhee isn't looking at her, she can practically hear her pouting.

Minhee sighs and turns on her side to face Jisung. “What is it?”

“I really did resent you for a while.”

Minhee blinks, now completely awake; a slight frown curves down her lips. “What?” Her voice clears. “What did I do?”

Jisung chuckles softly, albeit there's little actual humor in it. “I’m talking about when you left.”

Minhee stills, naturally wondering why Jisung is bringing this up again, now, especially, in the middle of the night.

“I told you I admired you for it—and that's true,” Jisung relays. “You said you thought I hated you for it…. and, well, that's true, too. Maybe even truer, back then.”

“You've admitted to this already.”

“Yeah.”

“And,” Minhee bites down her lip, “I kind of knew anyway. Your emails were pretty sparse for a while, especially at the beginning.”

Jisung grimaces. “That was me trying to prove something. That I could—would be just fine without you.”

“And how’d that work out for you?”

Jisung groans. “Didn't I end up calling you long distance in the middle of the night some months later?”

“When you lost your virginity, yes,” Minhee deadpans.

Next to her, Jisung whines and kicks her feet in embarrassment. “Looking back, I wonder if I finally had sex just to have an excuse to call you.”

Minhee laughs. “You did not!”

Jisung shrugs. “I always need to tell you the important milestones, unnie. All of the big events in my life, always.”

Minhee chuckles. “I hope you always do,” she whispers.

Jisung hums “And I'm here now, aren't I?”

“I suppose.”

“Came running to you like I always do,” Jisung expresses with a sigh. “And I’m bringing it up because I've been thinking about it and… I want to apologise—and to explain myself, I guess?”

“Why?”

Jisung shrugs. “At work today, Daisy and I were talking. You were mentioned.”

“Oh?”

Daisy, the head waitress at Super Bowl, had been around when Minhee worked there—juggling multiple jobs while getting her certification as a physical therapist assistant. She’d been the one to show Minhee the ropes when she was new, and she had also been the person Minhee had spoken to when she asked to get Jisung the job.

“What did she say about me?”

“Only good things, don’t worry.”

Minhee hums. “Well, that’s a relief.”

Jisung huffs a small laugh but then exhales. “She told me about how hard you worked. How you’d come in exhausted some days, trying to balance everything at once—trying to work shifts around the classes you were taking.”

Minhee doesn’t respond right away.

“And I never really thought about that before,” Jisung admits. “How it wasn’t easy for you. How you probably had your lonely moments too. All I knew was that my best friend didn’t just choose to leave home—you chose to move thousands of miles away. It felt like you were running away from me.”

Minhee closes her eyes briefly. “I’m sorry,” she murmurs. “It was something that I needed to do.”

It wasn’t that Minhee had a bad childhood, or a family that didn’t understand her. If anything, she grew up happy, surrounded by loving and supportive family and friends. But that was also why she felt the need to leave—everything in their small town felt predetermined, with expectations pressing in from all sides. She needed more—more than the same faces, the same routines, the quiet resignation that settled into people who never left.

Jisung exhales, softer this time. “I understand that now, unnie.” She pauses, takes a beat, “You didn’t need to spiral like I did—didn’t need to throw away everything completely—to realize the truth—that Haven, despite its name, isn't really much of a haven. It's too small a town to really live life.

Minhee swallows. “I never wanted you to feel left behind, Hannie.” Her voice is quiet, raw. “You were always going to be my anchor to that small town. I was always going to come back to you whenever you needed me to.”

Jisung smiles faintly, barely visible in the dim light. Under the covers, she slides her hand into Minhee’s, fingers curling around hers.

Minhee lets the warmth of Jisung’s hand settle against her skin, grounding her. Then, she exhales.

“Since we're being honest, can it be my turn?”

Jisung squeezes her hand. “Why do you even have to ask?”

Minhee hesitates, feeling her heart climb into her throat. Why does she have to ask? Why does she feel so nervous?

She takes a breath, then, before she can overthink it,

“Was I never an option?” she whispers in the dark.

Jisung stills beside her.

“Huh?”

Minhee winces, hesitating, wondering what the point of asking this is? “Never mind,” she mutters.

Jisung shifts beside her, and Minhee feels the air shifting with her; the tension settling in the space between them.

“Unnie.”

Minhee swallows.

“What’s on your mind?” Jisung asks, her voice softer, yet also more prodding.

“When you thought to yourself that you’d never kissed a girl… did you never think of asking me?”

Jisung doesn’t answer right away. The silence stretches, thick and heavy, filled with something neither of them can name. Minhee can hear the faint rustling of sheets, the quiet way Jisung inhales sharply.

Finally, after what feels like an eternity, Jisung exhales.

“Of course I thought about it,” she admits. “But you’re you, unnie.”

Minhee furrows her brows. “What do you mean I’m me?”

“I—I don’t know.” Jisung sounds uncertain, like she’s struggling to find the right words. “You… you feel untouchable, somehow. When it comes to you, there’s a constant feeling that I’m always just trying to catch up to you, you know? You’ve always felt like you're barely out of my reach—so I guess no, you weren’t an option, not because I didn’t want you to be, but because it felt precarious to even consider you an option.”

Minhee blinks, heart stuttering. She doesn’t know what to say because she understands perfectly.

The silence between them stretches, heavy and electric. In the dim light, Minhee can barely make out the outline of Jisung’s face—her dark eyes, the way they flicker between uncertainty and something else. Something Minhee can’t accurately name.

Minhee’s pulse thrums in her ears. The room feels different now. Smaller. Warmer.

Jisung’s fingers shift slightly against Minhee’s palm, a small movement, but it feels monumental. The air is charged, thick with words neither of them are brave enough to say.

As if sensing this unease in the air, Shampoo stirs at their feet, tail flicking as she stretches lazily. She gives Minhee and Jisung a brief, imperious glance before suddenly leaping off the bed with a soft thud.

Minhee lets out a breathy laughter just as a nervous giggle escapes Jisung. For a moment, it almost feels as if the tension has broken, but then they turn and look at each other, eyes meeting, and the electricity in the atmosphere is immediately back.

There’s something raw in Jisung’s expression—something hesitant but full of longing. She licks her lips, fingers tightening just slightly around Minhee’s. And then, in a voice barely louder than a whisper—

“Can I kiss you now, then?”

Minhee barely has time to process it before Jisung is reaching out—hesitant, searching. Her fingertips graze against Minhee’s cheek and the touch ignites a slow-burning heat that spreads through Minhee’s body. Jisung’s palm lingers, just barely there, as if waiting for Minhee to pull away.

She doesn’t.

Instead, Minhee turns into the touch, her own hand coming up to cover Jisung’s, whose breath shudders. Their noses brush; their lips are so close, just a hair’s breadth away.

Finally, like the inevitable pull of gravity, Minhee closes the distance.

The kiss starts tentative, almost like they’re testing the weight of it. Minhee feels the warmth of Jisung’s breath, the slow press of her lips, and something inside her unravels. Jisung shifts closer, fingers sliding up Minhee’s arm, hesitating at her shoulder before threading into her hair, pulling her deeper into the kiss.

There’s no urgency to it; it’s just careful and slow, the kind of kiss that lingers, like neither of them wants to risk breaking the moment. When they pull apart, it’s only enough to breathe, to let their foreheads press together. Jisung’s fingers stay tangled in Minhee’s hair, her thumb absently brushing over her cheek.

“I’m right here,” Minhee whispers. “You should have asked.”

“I just did,” Jisung points out, breathlessly giggling.

Their eyes meet again, and Minhee notes something unreadable in Jisung’s gaze. Then, without another word, she leans in again.

It’s different this time, not hesitant—only hungry and determined. Minhee feels the contrast immediately, especially in the way that Jisung moves, pressing her down onto the mattress, fingers slipping beneath the hem of her shirt with new urgency, palms deftly smoothing over her bare stomach.

A soft gasp escapes her as Jisung’s touch slides higher, fingertips grazing over her ribs before brushing against the soft swell of her breast.

She isn’t complaining but she also can’t help but wonder how they got to this point when just a week ago, Minhee wouldn’t even let herself think of Jisung like this. She had spent so long keeping these kinds of notions at bay, shoving them down beneath layers of friendship and boundaries she was always sure she would never cross. Yet here they are—Jisung above her, touching her, wanting her, just as Minhee wants her too.

Jisung is deliberate, confident in a way that leaves Minhee dizzy. Her touch seems certain, but the roll of her hips feel instinctive, and Minhee finds herself struggling to reconcile the Jisung she’s always known—clumsy, loud, constantly teasing but always following Minhee’s lead—with the Jisung above her now, moving with such intent that it steals her breath.

Jisung is watching her closely, dark eyes flickering with something heated as she cups Minhee underneath fabric, thumb circling lightly over the peak. Minhee exhales a shuddering breath, her body reacting faster than her mind can process. She grips at Jisung’s back, hands pressing down on warm skin, and Jisung groans softly when they slip lower, gripping at her hips and tugging her closer.

The space between them disappears, replaced with just warmth and friction, augmented by quiet, needy sounds that escape as their bodies press and shift against each other. Clothes disappear between desperate, feverish touches, and Minhee drinks in the sight of Jisung above her, in awe of the way the city lights filter through the window and casting soft shadows over Jisung’s bare skin. Her best friend has always been cute—pretty; but like this, Minhee finds that she’s beautiful: flushed, breathless, eyes dark with something Minhee has never seen from Jisung before.

Sure, confident hands trace down Minhee’s stomach, along the curve of her hip before dipping lower. The first brush of Jisung’s fingers against Minhee’s most sensitive spot sends a sharp jolt of pleasure through Minhee, her breath catching as she instinctively parts her thighs further.

Jisung seems to know exactly what she's doing, and it feels good, yet—there's a fleeting thought that intrudes on Minhee, a name flickers at the edge of her mind—Mariko. Heat flashes up her spine, but not necessarily because of what Jisung is doing to her. It’s the memory of what Jisung told her before, of the girl who had been her first. Someone who had already been here with her—someone who isn’t Minhee.

Minhee swallows hard and tells herself that it doesn’t matter. Not now, not when Jisung is here, with her, choosing her.

The traitorous thought naturally slips away from her consciousness as Jisung moves, mouth pressing kisses along Minhee’s skin, Minhee’s collarbone, drawing helpless sounds from Minhee's lips. She grips at Jisung’s shoulders, fingers digging into warm skin, her body strung tight as Jisung’s touch grows more deliberate, as she builds something unbearable between them.

Jisung watches her, eyes locked onto Minhee’s face as if trying to memorize every reaction. It’s almost unfair, Minhee thinks, that she looks like this—focused, intent, like she’s determined to unravel her completely. Amazing how she’s still learning new things about someone who has been her best friend for close to two decades; she thinks she still wants to learn more.

Minhee shudders as she nears the edge, her breaths coming in soft, broken gasps. When Jisung leans down, capturing her mouth in another kiss just as she falls apart, Minhee sees stars.

As her body relaxes, she barely has time to process Jisung shifting once again, pressing soft kisses along her collarbone. There’s something reverent about the way she lingers there, how she smooths a hand over Minhee’s stomach as if to calm the aftershocks.

Minhee whines, catching Jisung’s wrist, holding her as she squirms and moves around, rolling them over until Jisung is the one under her.

“Let me,” Minhee murmurs, a little unsteady, a little out of breath still.

Jisung’s breath hitches, lips parting slightly as Minhee’s hand mirrors the map Jisung had earlier navigated, down her ribs, her stomach, her hip—Jisung shivers under her touch, her body wordlessly giving in to Minhee's offer.

Minhee learns her like Jisung had just learned Minhee—through the way her body reacts, the soft, breathless sounds that spill from her lips, the way she trembles when Minhee’s fingers tease lower, deliberate but unhurried.

Jisung’s hold on Minhee’s hair tightens as she gasps, and Minhee keeps going; her back arches as if her body naturally wants to be closer to Minhee and Minhee soaks in her every reaction—from each shaky breath to each whispered plea. Eventually Jisung breaks just as she had earlier, and the noise she makes is soft and helpless. Her body tenses before she melts, sinking into the mattress with a shuddering sigh.

For a stretched out moment, neither of them move. Minhee collapses on top of Jisung, cheek resting in the pillowy swell of her breasts. She listens as Jisung's breathing steadies, as her heartbeat slowly calms down.

The weight of what just happened settles slowly, seeping into her bones, and she wonders if the same things are running through both their minds.

“Unnie,” Jisung calls to her, voice soft and hoarse.

Minhee shifts a little, glancing up. There's something unfettered in Jisung’s expression; something akin to hesitation and nervousness like she's unsure what's supposed to happen now.

Minhee swallows, reaching up to brush a thumb over Jisung’s cheek.

“You said I always felt just out of your reach,” she murmurs, voice quiet in the stillness.

Jisung blinks, clearly processing the words, still rendered speechless.

Minhee chuckles softly. “You’re holding me now, aren’t you?”

Jisung’s eyes flicker, giddy understanding taking over her features as she breaks into a shy smile. She wraps her arms around Minhee's head, tight like she doesn’t want to let go.

Minhee settles and simply lets her.

The morning after, Minhee wakes up to the weight of Jisung's arm draped across her waist, warm breath damp against her shoulder. It's familiar in some ways, reminiscent of so many childhood sleepovers they shared when they were younger; yet it feels new as well, in the way fresh beginnings linger in the air.

Jisung stirs when Minhee shifts, blinking up at her with a lethargic expression. There is no awkwardness, surprisingly; no marked line between what they were and what they are now. Maybe it isn't really that surprising; it's Minhee and Jisung, and things have always fallen naturally into place with the two of them.

But Minhee remembers a time when she had been too careful.

Like when they were younger, and Jisung would fall asleep on her shoulder, Minhee barely dared to move, always scared that shifting even an inch would feel a little too much. And when Jisung would loop their fingers together absentmindedly when watching a movie, Minhee would feel her own heartbeat in her throat, afraid that lingering too long would mean admitting something she wasn’t ready to.

Now, though—Jisung hums drowsily, tightens her hold on Minhee, and buries her face in the crook of her neck, even pressing a lazy kiss on the curve of her shoulder. It’s in that moment, Minhee confirms that the line she had spent years upholding, working so hard not to cross—it's really not there anymore.

Instead, something new has begun to take root—soft, unspoken, yet undeniably real. And as days slip into weeks, this something that’s between what they were and what they could be makes itself known in the smallest of moments.

It’s in the way Jisung insists on doing the dishes but ends up making a mess, flicking soapy water at Minhee when she complains that Jisung is terrible at it. She would snatch the sponge from Jisung’s hands only for the latter to wrap her arms around Minhee’s waist from behind, chin resting on her shoulder—giggling directly into her ear because she knows Minhee loves her anyway no matter how much she feigns annoyance.

Minhee is reminded of making kimchi with Jisung’s family every winter when they were younger—the kitchen crowded, the air thick with garlic and spice. Jisung had been quite a disaster in the kitchen, knocking over bowls, smearing chili paste on her cheeks, and Minhee would always chastise her for it; tease her about how she should rub the seasoning into the vegetables and not wear them. Jisung would always just laugh, like she didn’t really care because she knew Minhee wasn’t really scolding her. Jisung had looked at her then, just like she looks at her now—like she was something worth making a mess for.

It’s in the way Jisung waits for Minhee to get home, no matter how early or late. Sometimes, she’s curled up on the couch with Shampoo draped over her stomach, blinking sleepily as Minhee walks through the door. Other nights, she’s sitting cross-legged on the floor with leftover food from Super Bowl, and she’ll tell Minhee to eat while complaining about her day over dinner.

People had always assumed that Minhee, as the older between the two of them, had taken Jisung under her wing to look after her. This image was further driven by the fact that Minhee was the more stoic and nonchalant between the two of them, while Jisung was perceived as someone who wore her emotions on her sleeve. But their dynamic has never been simple, and certainly has never been one-sided. Jisung had always taken care of her in small, unnoticed ways. Like in high school, when Minhee had forgotten to bring an umbrella, and Jisung had waited for her outside her last class and lightly scolded her about being more careful lest she catch a cold. Minhee had sighed, exasperated, but also grateful and unsurprised, because that was simply how Jisung always was with her.

It’s in the sleepy mornings, when Jisung groans dramatically as Minhee tries to get out of bed, always latching onto Minhee like a koala—or a leech, which Minhee always makes sure to complain about even though she usually gives in anyway, often letting herself be held a little longer as the sun peeks through the blinds. It reminds her of old sleepovers, of Jisung falling asleep against her shoulder, of sleepy conversations about their future—never once imagining they’d end up here, tangled together in the same bed, fitting like they were always meant to.

It’s in how Jisung learns and relearns Minhee’s little habits—how she takes her morning coffee black but adds creamer in the afternoon, how she frowns when she’s focused, how she gets grumpy when she’s hungry but won’t admit it. And Minhee learns Jisung, too—how she bites her lip when holding back a laugh, how she kicks her feet when excited, how her eyes soften when she looks at Minhee like she’s something worth holding onto.

It’s in late night confessions, whispered in the dark, when the air between them hums with something tender and unspoken. Like,

“You’re the best part of my day,” Jisung murmurs one night, tracing slow circles on Minhee’s wrist with her thumb.

Minhee swallows, heart stuttering in her chest. She doesn’t say her, too—but really, she doesn’t have to. She’s pretty sure that Jisung already knows.

It's in the kisses they share—ones that range from soft and chaste, to desperate and hungry, because, right, they do that now, and it never feels out of place in their dynamic that's now evolving.

Time passes and Minhee watches as Jisung settles into her new life—not by expanding her world, but by shaping it into something steady. She’s working, finding a routine, slipping into familiar rhythms between home, work, and time spent with Minhee. Jisung is adapting in her own way, seemingly finding comfort in small things—like a thrift store she discovers a few blocks away from the apartment, or a shortcut through the park she insists is better than the route Minhee takes.

She does notice that Jisung doesn’t really go out much or make many friends, but Jisung doesn’t seem to mind; doesn’t complain about it, so Minhee doesn't bring it up. Jisung seems to be adapting well, leaving her mark wherever she goes, and Minhee finds comfort in knowing that she is, and will always be, there to help if needed— and that much Jisung at least knows.

One evening, Minhee comes home to silence.

She pauses at the doorway and frowns at the stillness. Most days, Jisung is usually doing something when she gets home—like playing with Shampoo while the stereo plays some new CD that she bought. Today, there’s nothing; not even the television is turned on.

Then she sees Jisung, sitting on the floor at the foot of their shared bed, knees pulled up to her chest as she stares blankly in front of her. Shampoo is curled up beside her, tucked against her thigh, but she doesn’t seem to notice when she stretches, rubbing her head against Jisung's knee.

Minhee sets down her bag, the sound of her keys jangling against the counter unusually loud in the quiet. “Hannie?”

It takes a second before she blinks, like she’s only now registering Minhee’s presence. “Unnie, hey.” Her voice is quiet, distant.

Minhee hesitates, but ultimately she lowers herself down on the floor to sit next to Jisung. “Is everything good?”

Jisung blinks, as if just now realizing Minhee is there. She exhales, rubs a hand over her face. “My appa called.”

Minhee stills. “Your Dad? Not your Mom?”

It’s different from if it had been her mother; she was the one who raised Jisung and her older brother, the one who made day-to-day decisions, who got involved in their lives directly. She was the one who nagged about grades, about eating enough, about coming home before dark. But their father—he never meddled. He stayed out of things until it was time to make a final decision, until something needed to be put in place.

So for him to call now, to ask questions—Minhee understands the emotional weight of it on Jisung.

“He asked me what my plans are—what I’m doing with my life.” Jisung winces. “And I just… I didn’t know what to tell him.” She shakes her head, gaze distant. “He told me that Chris has been by the house a few times—why would he even do that?” She lets out a quiet, humorless laugh. “I couldn’t even tell him about…” she glances at Minhee, guilt in her eyes as she trails off. “I don’t know what I’m doing, unnie.”

There’s something brittle in the way she says it, something tired. Minhee reaches out, touching her elbow, careful as if Jisung might break if she isn’t gentle enough with her touch.

“Can I be honest about something?” Jisung asks, voice quiet. “Sometimes I find myself missing home a lot. I knew what I was working towards there. I had a plan, goals. And it’s stupid because that’s exactly what I ran away from.”

Minhee stares at her, thrown. Because all this time, she thought Jisung was doing well. She had a job, she had Minhee, she had little quirks and routines that seemed to make her happy. Minhee thought—assumed—that Jisung was settling in. Thriving, even. But now it turns out that she was just making do.

Minhee feels a sting in her heart.

“Do you ever regret it?” Jisung suddenly asks.

“Regret what?” Minhee’s stomach twists.

“Letting me come here.”

Minhee’s brows knit together. “Why would I?”

Jisung exhales sharply, a breath that’s almost a laugh, but not quite. She doesn’t answer, just keeps twisting the hem of her sweater between her fingers.

Minhee watches her, uneasy. “Are you asking because you regret it? Coming here?”

Jisung is quiet for a moment. Then, instead of answering the question posed to her, she says, “I love you, unnie.”

Minhee feels something in her chest tighten. This isn’t the first time she's heard them from Jisung, but the meaning behind the words feel a bit more uncertain now, all things considered. Something about the way she says it—soft and worn, like she’s been carrying the words for too long—makes Minhee’s throat go dry.

She’s unable to say the words back, so she just moves to take Jisung’s hand in her own, fingers tangling together. The conversation seemingly ends there, settling into the silence between them like something unfinished.

Jisung doesn’t qualify her regrets, and Minhee doesn’t push her to.

In her mind, a thought lingers, quiet and heavy—what if Jisung leaves her behind, the way Minhee once left her? Or—what if she decides she prefers the comfort of something stable, something she understands? What if she decides that going back to what she knows is better?

Jisung has already proven that she’s capable of blowing things up when she feels trapped. She had done it to Chris, hadn’t she? And Minhee wonders, uneasily, if all of this—this city, this life, this thing between them—is just another mistake Jisung will come to find isn’t really something she sees for her future.

Minhee knows she hurt Jisung when she left years ago. They’ve picked apart the past, acknowledged the wounds they gave each other. But knowing doesn’t make it any easier to shake the feeling now—that this might be some kind of delayed consequence, that Jisung leaving could be the inevitable echo of Minhee doing it first.

Maybe that’s why she doesn’t ask for reassurances now. Because some part of her wonders if she even has the right to.

One day, Minhee is walking through the reception of the nursing home during her lunch break when she notices Chaebin posting a flyer on the bulletin board. It’s colorful and eye-catching, and when she approaches she sees that it’s advertising an open mic night at a nearby coffee shop.

“You looking for talent among senior citizens?" she jests lightheartedly.

Chaebin chuckles, and turns to her. “It’s not necessarily for the seniors, but hey, if a 70-year-old like Mr. Lee wants to get up on stage and do some spoken word, we can arrange that." She shrugs, grinning, before clarifying, “I’m putting it up for Seungmin—she’s organizing it as some type marketing ploy for the café she’s working at, trying to drum up some business.”

Chaebin and Minhee had gone to the café in question on its opening day, which is where Chaebin met Seungmin, who works there as an assistant manager. The two of them have been dating for roughly a month now.

As Minhee studies the flyer, her thoughts drift to Jisung. Music has always been a big thing for Jisung, and performing has always been something that brought out confidence and passion in her. It makes her wonder if something like this—a chance to get up on a small stage—can be something that helps anchor Jisung to the city; something that could perhaps help her build a life here outside of Minhee.

It feels far-fetched, but the thought lingers and turns over in her mind like a quiet possibility.

Minhee asks Chaebin for a copy of the flyer before she leaves, and Chaebin hands it to her with a grateful smile. Jisung is still out, working a double shift, when Minhee gets home later that evening so she sticks the flyer onto their fridge for the moment.

The next morning, as Minhee pours coffee into her mug, Jisung shuffles into the kitchen area to stand behind her. Her voice is still thick with sleep when she asks, “What’s this about an open mic night?”

She’s looking at the flyer, squinting slightly as though trying to make sense of it.

“Chaebin was putting up flyers at work,” Minhee explains, handing the mug of coffee she’s holding to Jisung before pouring another one for herself. “It’s at that café where her girlfriend works at.”

“Huh.” Jisung pulls the flyer off the fridge and stares at it. “Interesting.”

Minhee leans against the counter and watches Jisung closely. “It could be something fun?” she suggests casually. “You used to enjoy performing a lot, didn't you?”

Jisung is still looking down at the flyer, her expression distant. “Yeah, it’s been a while—but it’s not like I really performed outside of school or church gatherings.”

“Maybe this is your chance,” Minhee suggests. “I always thought you could’ve made a living out of it. You were always so good.”

Jisung laughs. “Unnie, you’re biased.”

Minhee’s heart gives a quiet twist. She thinks back to the old days—Jisung up on a makeshift stage for the school’s talent show. It wasn’t a major production, but the image of her, eyes closed in concentration and her voice full of emotion as she performed a song she wrote herself while playing the guitar, was something that Minhee had loved to watch. Then again, Jisung isn’t entirely wrong about her being biased.

“Still. Don’t you miss it?”

Jisung shifts her weight, not meeting Minhee’s gaze. “I don’t know. Maybe. It sort of just feels like something that’s behind me now?”

Minhee hums, feeling a strange mix of frustration and sadness. She wants to push, to encourage Jisung to take a chance, but she knows it’s not her place to decide that for her.

The silence stretches, and Jisung takes a sip of her coffee, breaking the tension. “I guess I’ll think about it,” she says quietly, though the words don’t feel final.

Jisung starts pulling her guitar out more often, much to Minhee’s quiet relief. She catches her practicing a few times—although, mostly it’s just Jisung strumming some of her old favorites from their childhood with Shampoo as her only captive audience. Minhee doesn’t comment right away, just revels in the small moments, just letting herself get lost in the familiar sound of Jisung’s voice.

One evening, as Jisung tunes her guitar at the kitchen table, Minhee leans against the counter and asks casually, “Do you ever think about playing your own songs?”

Jisung’s fingers still for half a second before she shrugs. “Covers are probably better for a new audience.”

Minhee catches the hesitation in her voice, but she also takes note of something else—something that makes her eyes light up. “Wait. A new audience?” She grins. “Does this mean you’re going to be doing open mic night?”

Jisung gives a noncommittal hum, focused on adjusting her capo, but Minhee knows her well enough to hear the yes in it.

“You should, you know,” Minhee tells her, quieter now. “You still sound really good—and I’ve missed hearing you sing.”

Jisung looks up then, something warm flickering in her expression before she offers Minhee a small, knowing smile. “Even if I never perform for a public crowd again, I’ll always sing for you.” A soft laugh escapes her. “All you have to do is ask, unnie.”

For the first time in a while, the tension between them feels lighter. The weight of unspoken things is still there, lingering in the quiet spaces between them, but at least for now, it’s not pressing quite as hard.

At least until, seemingly out of nowhere, Jisung says, “Mari emailed me.”

Minhee winces, caught completely off-guard. “Mari…ko?” she echoes.

Jisung hums, nodding. “Yeah. We share an advisor at university—Professor Brown. Supposedly, he’s been asking about me.”

“What about?”

Jisung exhales, plucking idly at the strings. “Apparently he's wondering what my plans are. If I’m planning on finishing my degree. If I’m coming back.”

“What did Mariko tell him?”

Jisung shrugs. “That she'll ask me.”

“And what did you tell Mariko?”

Jisung takes a deep breath, clearly hesitating as she runs her fingers along the curve of her guitar. “I told her that I don’t know yet.”

“Oh.” Minhee nods slowly, letting that settle. It’s not exactly a surprise—Jisung has been drifting in uncertainty ever since the phone call from her father, Minhee just hasn’t been able to figure out how to talk it out with her—and hearing it out loud makes something twist inside her anyway. “How’s Mariko?” she finds herself asking instead.

Jisung glances up at her, and Minhee realizes too late that her tone must have given her away—too tight, too careful. Jisung’s gaze lingers, searching, before she lets out a quiet chuckle, shaking her head.

“Unnie, there’s nothing between me and Mari,” she says simply, even though that’s technically not the answer to the question asked.

Minhee huffs. “That’s not what—”

“You didn’t have to,” Jisung interrupts, lips twitching at the corners, fondness and amusement seeping through her tone. “She’s just a friend, unnie. Barely, considering I haven’t really talked to her in months before that email.”

Minhee nods in acknowledgment, looking away from embarrassment. She wonders if she even has a right to the jealousy twisting in her chest—it’s not as if she and Jisung have put a name to whatever it is that’s brewing between them.

Come open mic night, the coffee shop is more crowded than Minhee expected. The low hum of conversation fills the space, blending with the clatter of mugs against saucers and the occasional burst of laughter. Not everyone is paying close attention to the performances—some are focused on their friends, others on their phones—but the stage remains a focal point, warmly lit and tucked into the corner by the windows, where a microphone and stool wait for the next performer.

At their table, Minhee wraps her hands around a steaming mug of coffee, letting the heat seep into her fingers. Chaebin, beside her, is sipping on a glass of cold iced tea as she glances at the stage. Between them sits a half-eaten slice of strawberry shortcake, two forks resting on the plate.

“Not bad for a first event," Minhee muses.

Chaebin nods. “Seungmin was worried no one would show up, but I told her—free entertainment, decent coffee, and a chance to show off? Musicians eat that up. I think her boss is pretty happy with her because of the turnout."

On stage, Seungmin stands with a clipboard in hand, flashing a bright smile as the current performer wraps up. She thanks them before glancing down at the list. “Up next, we have Jisung Han," she announces.

Minhee’s heart stutters, and she turns her head just in time to see Jisung start to walk up the stage, adjusting the guitar strap over her shoulder. Her steps are steady, but Minhee catches the way her fingers twitch slightly against the neck of her guitar.

Jisung lifts her gaze—and the moment her eyes find Minhee, some of that tension eases.

She reaches the stool, adjusting the mic stand before offering a small, hesitant smile. “Hey, everyone," she says, voice clear but measured. “Uh, it’s been a while since I did something like this, so… yeah. Please take pity on me."

Minhee grins, clapping her hands hard; she even elbows Chaebin so that her friend would cheer as well. Jisung doesn’t look her way again though; she ducks her head, strums a few test chords, and then starts her first song.

She opens with her acoustic version of Crazy for You by Madonna. Jisung’s voice is careful at first, delicate and almost shaky, but as she moves through the first voice, she easily finds her rhythm. The song is slow, dreamy—while it doesn’t exactly hush the room, Minhee certainly notices a few people humming along, paying more attention to the performance than they had earlier.

Jisung is beaming by the time she finishes and she starts her follow up. Lovefool is more playful and upbeat; a song that earns recognition from the crowd. Jisung’s voice takes on a new tone—lighter, almost teasing as she sings “Love me, love me, say that you love me.” Minhee watches, pride stirring within her, because this is Jisung in her element, even if she’s only just finding her footing again.

The song earns Jisung cheers, and from the back of the café, there’s a faint yell, “That was great!” It makes Jisung laugh as she tucks her hair behind her ear, shy but proud.

She shifts her grip on her guitar. It's her final song, but she doesn’t announce what she’s about to play like she had the earlier songs. She starts plucking and strumming, fingers settling into a chord progression that makes Minhee momentarily freeze.

She’s heard this melody before—soft and unassuming, filling their apartment during quiet afternoons when Jisung thought no one was really listening.

Even in a noisy city,
Do whatever you want,
Sit in the sunshine and close your eyes,
Look at me for a second…

Jisung begins sounding hesitant, more nervous than she had been during the start of the entire performance. Her voice is almost too soft, like she’s unsure about the song. But with every line, every verse, her voice gains strength. The nerves melt away, replaced by something more certain. She closes her eyes for a moment, clearly letting herself settle into the music, into the familiarity of her own lyrics. By the time she reaches the second chorus, it’s no longer just singing—it’s Jisung stepping fully into herself.

Minhee can’t look away.

She has never really heard this song in full before, never more than short snippets within the walls of their apartment together. She certainly had not expected Jisung to sing it tonight, of all nights. Yet here she is, offering it to a room full of strangers, but as Minhee really hears the lyrics, she realises that it’s a song about hope; about light and the comfort sunshine provides even amidst a busy city.

Jisung is truly so good at this, she thinks.

The song ends too soon. The crowd cheers enthusiastically, but Jisung readily meets Minhee’s gaze again, flashing a bright grin. For a moment, it feels like they’re teenagers again, back when Jisung was still learning how to play and she would perform for Minhee in her bedroom, when Minhee was the only audience that mattered.

“You’re grinning like an idiot.”

Minhee startles at Chaebin’s words, but she can only huff in response. Her ears feel warm, and she doesn’t trust herself to say anything about the smirk decorating Chaebin’s features.

“No, I’m not,” she mutters as she tries to school her expression.

“Oh, sure. You always look like that when someone’s singing, right? Eyes all wide, staring like you’re seconds away from swooning—”

Minhee nudges her under the table. “Shut up.”

Chaebin snorts, not even attempting to reign in the laughter that follows. “God, you’re so obvious.”

Minhee doesn’t respond, though, because Jisung is stepping down from the stage, and in that moment, nothing else really matters.

They stay for the rest of the program, enjoying the performances that range from heartfelt to outright comedic. Seungmin joins them at their table during her break, and by the time her shift ends, it’s late enough that Minhee and Jisung gladly take up Chaebin’s offer for a ride home. The drive is filled with easy conversation, Jisung fitting in effortlessly with both Chaebin and Seungmin in a way that warms Minhee's heart.

By the time they get home, Jisung looks tired but content. She's even humming a song under her breath, which has Minhee smiling. She's recently learned that she should stop assuming Jisung’s thoughts and feelings, though.

“How are you feeling?” Minhee asks, setting down her bag as Jisung removes her shoes by the foyer.

“I feel great, actually,” she answers, smiling. “Thanks for suggesting I perform, unnie. It’s been so long that I almost forgot how good it feels—how much it makes me feel like I’m doing something right, you know? I have definitely been in need of that feeling.”

Minhee sits down on the couch, legs stretched as she leans back comfortably. “I’m glad you decided to do it. You really were great up there.”

Jisung turns pink—which Minhee finds adorable, even though she doesn’t say anything about it for now. Jisung approaches, poking Minhee’s socked feet with her own before plopping down to sit next to her. Shampoo comes crawling out of whatever corner of the apartment she’d been hiding in, and jumps up to claim Jisung’s lap as her throne.

“Seungmin mentioned they’re going to keep doing open mic nights,” Jisung says as she pets Shampoo’s fur. “Also that her boss is thinking about signing on some regular performers? She said if I’m interested, she’ll put in a good word for me.” She hesitates. “It wouldn’t pay much—or maybe at all beyond unlimited coffee and a creative outlet, but it could be good for me.”

“Sounds worth it for the unlimited coffee.” Minhee teases.

Jisung laughs. “I know, right?” She exhales softly. “Maybe it could become something bigger.”

“Do you want it to?”

Jisung shrugs. “Feels like wishful thinking, but if it happens, then it happens, right? I think it’s just something that I stopped letting myself dream about years ago.”

Her smile falters for a moment, her gaze turning distant. Minhee wonders if it’s the weight of her family’s expectations—the constant pull of what they wanted for her. They had always expected her to finish her degree and start a stable career. Jisung briefly had musical aspirations when they were teens and it was still free to dream, but soon enough music had devolved into something to do on the side, just a casual hobby.

“I think it’s alright if you want to be practical, but you also don’t have to give it up completely,” Minhee tells her. “So I think this opportunity is perfect.”

Jisung hums. “You’re right. Like always.” She turns to face Minhee, smiling, yet something more somber is now reflected in her eyes. “Unnie, I know you’ve been worried.”

Minhee blinks; opens her mouth to answer, but closes them again because she doesn’t know how to respond yet.

“About me,” Jisung clarifies, “and also about us. I know things have been tense and complicated recently, and that’s largely because I’ve been distant and confused—and as usual, you’ve been nothing but patient. I’m sorry.”

“It’s alright,” Minhee murmurs, but she doesn’t correct what Jisung is saying because it’s all true.

“Well, thank you,” Jisung says. “And honestly, I still have no idea what I’m doing with my life, but—I just want you to know that I’m not going anywhere. I’m here to stay. With you.”

Minhee’s heart settles at those words, but she still feels that lingering unease. “What about school?” she asks carefully. “If you want to go back and finish your degree, you should.” She inhales sharply. “I’ll still be here after.”

Jisung chuckles softly. “Honestly, I don’t know. It’s not like I’m particularly keen on getting an accounting degree—” she huffs, “but also, I’ve wasted three years of my life on it, so—I really don’t know.”

“You don't have to decide immediately,” Minhee tells her. “I know better than anyone how sometimes you need a breather, need to experience more in life before you figure out what you want your future to look like.”

She herself had taken a year off after high school, picking up odd jobs here and there in their hometown. She had been volunteering at an elderly home when she decided that she wanted to go into physical therapy.

Jisung rubs her palms on her face. “Yeah, I definitely need some time to figure it out—and I want to spend the next year doing that, without the pressure. And when I figure it out, I’ll make a plan. But I want you to know, unnie, that whatever I decide, you’re going to be part of that plan.”

“Okay,” Minhee answers. She feels relieved, sated by Jisung’s assurance but at the same time, there’s lingering insecurity. “But can you promise me something?”

“Hm?”

“I just want you to tell me if you ever feel like you want more than what I can provide or offer,” Minhee says softly. “Don’t… you know.”

Jisung’s face falls, immediately understanding what Minhee is referencing. “I think I’ll always have to carry the weight of what I did to Chris-oppa,” she admits. “And I understand you feeling a type of way about it, especially now that we’re… us. But I’d like to think that I’ve learned a lot from everything I did wrong. I don't want to make empty promises—not to you. I can't say I’ll be perfect or I’ll never hurt you, but I want to do my best—to communicate better what I want, or need—to tell you even when I’m just feeling uneasy.” She chuckles, almost breathless. “Sometimes I need to take my time to wade through my thoughts, but when I’m with you, things usually come with clarity. So I think—I hope, anyway, that I’ll be able to be more self aware so I can do at least that much.”

Minhee feels a weight lift, even if there’s still much to work through. “Okay,” she repeats quietly, reminding herself that they need to always keep talking whenever things feel unclear. “I’ll do the same thing—if I feel like there's tension, then I’ll just ask you.”

Jisung’s smile softens as she takes Minhee’s hand in hers, squeezing it. “You know… I’ve been thinking. Whenever something didn’t feel right, or when things got hard, my instinct has always been to run—to leave problems behind, even though that always just meant they’d pile on. But…” She pauses, the weight of her own words settling in, “thing is, more often than not, I run to you. And that’s why we’ll be good, unnie. Because you’re my person. And I’m choosing to stay with my person—at least if my person will have me.”

Minhee feels a surge of warmth flood her chest. It's clear that Jisung is still unsure about a lot of things, still unsure of the path ahead, but she's also taking a stand; making an active choice to be with Minhee.

With a soft sigh, her hand reaches out, pinky finger wrapping around Jisung's own and tugging, pulling her closer just like that, years of distance and uncertainty still present but no longer looming so heavily. It's a quiet promise. They don’t have all the answers yet, but they’ll figure it out together—because of course Minhee is choosing Jisung, too.

Their lips brush against each other’s, soft and lingering, and once again, everything feels steady.

When they pull apart, Minhee gazes at Jisung, heart so full it's almost bursting at the seams.

“I’m glad you’re here.”

Jisung smiles, wonderful and beautiful. “Me too, unnie. Me too.” And then, quiet but unwavering, she adds, “I love you.”

Minhee freezes for a moment, the sentence hanging in the air between them. The words have been said between them countless times before, always carrying with them a range of emotions. This time, however, the weight of it feels different, new.

Minhee swallows the lump in her throat, her chest tight with emotion. She smiles softly, feeling the warmth of Jisung’s words settle into her heart. “I love you too,” she whispers back, knowing in that moment that the distance between them has never felt smaller.

───── ⋆⋅ one year later ⋅⋆ ─────

Minhee sinks down to the floor, sighing as she stretches her legs out. The apartment—which still smells like fresh paint and cardboard—is a mess of half-unpacked boxes and haphazardly arranged furniture, yet Shampoo, predictably, has made herself at home, already comfortably curled up in a patch of sunlight near the window.

Jisung walks into the living room from the kitchen, carrying a can of soda. She snaps it open, takes a long sip, then lowers herself onto the floor, sitting cross-legged beside Minhee. Wordlessly, she offers the can. Minhee takes it, their fingers brushing briefly as she drinks.

“This is nice, isn’t it?” Jisung muses, glancing around at their new place. “Like, we've basically been living together for a while, but now we actually have space.”

Minhee chortles as she follows her girlfriend’s gaze, taking in the bigger living room, the separate bedroom, the way their things are scattered around like proof that they belong here. Truthfully, the apartment isn’t that big, but it’s a far cry from Minhee’s old cramped studio where they first settled into a shared life. There’s room to breathe here; room to grow.

“Yeah,” Minhee says, a soft smile tugging at her lips.

“No more bumping into each other every time we move,” Jisung comments.

Minhee grins, nudging Jisung’s knee with her own. “Speak for yourself. I like bumping into you.”

Jisung snorts and shakes her head, before leaning against Minhee’s shoulder. Shampoo stirs, stretches, and glances at them. She pads over to them and hops onto Jisung’s lap as if she rightfully belongs there. Jisung barely reacts, absentmindedly scratching behind her ears.

“Did I tell you my mom called earlier?” she asks.

Minhee stills. “Yeah?”

“Mhm. She asked if I was really moving in with you. I think she was hoping I’d say I changed my mind.” Jisung lets out a breathy laugh. “But I told her, ‘Mom, I’ve been living with Minhee. But my name is going to be on the lease now and I’m officially signing cat adoption papers. My life is set.’”

Minhee snorts. “You didn’t actually say that.”

“Okay, no, I didn't, but I thought it.” Jisung grins; then she sobers slightly. “She’s still holding out hope that I’ll go back to school. I told her it’s not completely off the table, just… not now. Not yet.”

Minhee nods, understanding. Jisung had spent the past year figuring herself out—playing regular gigs at the café, working part-time jobs, writing music that she’s starting to feel proud of. She has talked to Minhee about how school will maybe be part of the plan one day, but right now, she’s building something else. Something that actually feels hers.

She had also sort of come out to her parents—not in any big, dramatic way, just in the simple truth of telling them she was with Minhee. They hadn’t reacted much, hadn’t said anything negative, but they also hadn’t really acknowledged it. It was as if, in their minds, nothing had changed between the two of them, as if Minhee was still just the childhood friend who had always been by Jisung’s side. And maybe, in their own way, that was easier for them to accept.

Jisung was frustrated at first, unsure whether to push or just let it be. In the end, she chose not to let it weigh on her too much. Minhee was still here. They had a home; a life that they were building together, and for now, that was enough.

“She also told me she saw Chris at the supermarket,” Jisung adds, which has Minhee lifting an eyebrow. “Apparently he was holding hands with Stacey Grohl.”

“Like head cheerleader Stacey Grohl?”

Jisung laughs, nodding. “Didn’t you have a massive crush on her back in high school?”

Minhee huffs. “Massive is an overstatement.”

“Well, don’t worry. Ultimately, you got the real prize right here.” Jisung winks at her, and Minhee groans, pretending to be exasperated—even though she absolutely agrees.

Jisung and Chris had their closure several months ago, when Jisung and Minhee had gone home for the holidays. They had their talk, and afterwards Jisung confided to Minhee that she thought things were always going to be weird between them—which was completely on her. But Chris was a gentleman who didn’t hold a grudge, and he’d told Jisung that he was glad that she seemed to be doing okay.

Minhee watches Jisung for a beat, thinking about how far they’ve come—from running, from uncertainty, from trying to define something that was always just them.

“But I guess I’ll take you anyway,” Minhee retorts, teasing and nudging Jisung’s foot with her own.

Jisung grins, eyes crinkling as she tilts her chin up expectantly.

Minhee rolls her eyes but leans in anyway, pressing a slow, lingering kiss to Jisung’s lips. Shampoo meows in protest, but neither of them pay her any mind.

Through the years, Minhee and Jisung have always found their way to each other. From childhood sleepovers to hesitant touches and quiet understanding, and even through hundreds of miles away from each other, they've always been a constant. They’ve stumbled, crashed, and fallen more times than they can count—and every time, without fail, they’ve found a way to break each other’s fall.

And now, here they are—surrounded by half-unpacked boxes that contain proof of the life they’ve been sharing. “We still have so much to do,” Minhee comments.

“Let’s take another five,” Jisung says, reaching for her hand. “We deserve it.”

Minhee laughs. They’ve been on two consecutive five minute breaks already, but she doesn’t protest. She smiles and simply leans back against the couch they had just wrestled through the door, inching closer to Jisung so that their arms are pressed together.

Here, in this space they chose together, it feels like something settling into place—not something new, but something that was always meant to be.