Chapter 13

The elevator hums softly as it climbs, the space suddenly feeling far too small for the two of them. Jeongyeon stands rigid, hands tucked into her coat pockets, pretending she’s not hyper-aware of how close Nayeon is. One wrong shift and they’d be touching. Breathing the same air.

She exhales slowly through her nose. Get it together.

She’s been cool all night—teasing, confident, unbothered—but now? Now her nerves are buzzing under her skin. Maybe she pushed too far at dinner. Maybe she definitely pushed too far in the car. And now she’s here, standing in an elevator with a tipsy Nayeon who keeps swaying just enough to make Jeongyeon’s heart jump.

Her phone vibrates in her hand. Jeongyeon glances down quickly.

Momo: Ummm WTFFF. Where are you???
Momo: Tell me you did NOT go into her building.

Jeongyeon winces. She types back fast.

Jeongyeon: Relax. I’m fine. I’ve got it under control.

Another buzz.

Momo: You never have it under control

Jeongyeon almost laughs. Almost. Out of the corner of her eye, she notices Nayeon tilting her head, squinting slightly. “Who’re you texting?” she asks, voice light, curious.

Jeongyeon locks her phone and slips it back into her pocket. “Momo,” she says casually. “She was just asking what I’m up to.”

Nayeon hums, clearly unconcerned. “She worries too much.”

The elevator keeps ascending. The digital numbers tick upward, each floor making Jeongyeon more aware of the time. It’s late. Too late for this to still feel casual.

A small voice in her head tells her she should’ve left it at the car. That this—whatever this is—has crossed into dangerous territory.

She glances at Nayeon. The girl’s leaning back against the wall now, arms loosely folded, eyes half-lidded—but still watching her.

What are we even doing? What does she want? What do I want?

The elevator jolts slightly as it continues up. And Nayeon—loses her balance.

“—Whoa—”

She stumbles forward. Jeongyeon reacts instantly. Her hand shoots out, catching Nayeon by the arm—then her waist—steadying her before she can fall. Nayeon grips onto her without thinking. And suddenly—they’re close. Too close.

Nayeon’s hand is still on her shoulder. Jeongyeon’s arm still wrapped around her. Their bodies just… there. Pressed into the same space. They both look up at the same time. Breathing distance. Again.

Jeongyeon’s breath hitches—just slightly. Oh, fuck.

Nayeon doesn’t pull away. If anything—she leans in. Slow. Like she’s thinking about it. Like she’s not thinking at all. Jeongyeon sees it. Registers it. For half a second—she almost lets it happen.

Then—she turns her head at the last second, laughing under her breath, bringing a hand up to gently push Nayeon’s face away. “Alright—relax,” she says, teasing, like nothing just almost happened.

Nayeon freezes. Then immediately shoves her. “What the fuck is wrong with you?!” she blurts, half embarrassed, half offended.

Jeongyeon laughs, stepping back just enough to give her space. “You almost fell!”

“That’s not—” Nayeon cuts herself off, flustered. “You—ugh—” She drags a hand down her face. “You’re so annoying.”

Jeongyeon grins. “You were about to do something stupid.”

Nayeon’s eyes widen. “I was NOT—”

“You were,” Jeongyeon says easily. “I saw it.”

Nayeon scoffs, turning away. “You’re actually insane.”

“Probably,” Jeongyeon shrugs.

There’s a beat. They don’t move very far apart. The tension’s still there. Just… sitting between them. The elevator slows. A soft ding cuts through everything. The doors slide open. Neither of them says anything. But they both feel it. That was closer than it’s ever been.

Nayeon doesn’t hesitate. She steps out immediately, confidence returning the second her feet hit the hallway. Jeongyeon’s breath catches as she follows a step behind, watching the way Nayeon’s shoulders square, like she’s bracing herself—or daring something to happen.

Jeongyeon trails after her, heart pounding now, the playful teasing from earlier giving way to something heavier. Something real. And as the elevator doors slide shut behind them, Jeongyeon realizes there’s no easy way out anymore.

They then stop in front of Nayeon’s apartment door. Jeongyeon ends up right behind her without really meaning to. Too close. Close enough to smell her perfume again—soft, faintly sweet, mixed with soju. She watches as Nayeon digs into her purse, keys clinking as she pulls them out.

Nayeon squints at the keyring, turning it over once. Then again.

“…Wow,” Jeongyeon murmurs before she can stop herself. “You live here and you don’t even know which key it is?”

Nayeon scoffs softly, swaying just a little. “I know which one it is,” she mutters. “They just all look the same.”

Jeongyeon can tell—she’s definitely not sober yet. She doesn’t know what comes over her. Maybe it’s the alcohol from before. Maybe it’s the way Nayeon’s shoulders tense. Maybe it’s the fact that she’s been circling this girl for weeks now.

But suddenly, she steps closer. Too close.

Her hips brush against Nayeon’s from behind, barely there but unmistakable. Jeongyeon lifts a hand and rests it lightly on Nayeon’s waist, fingers warm through the fabric. She leans in over her shoulder, voice low, teasing. “Here,” she says. “Let me see.”

Nayeon freezes. Then she tilts her head back just slightly, turning enough that Jeongyeon catches her eyes. Dark. Curious. Heated. Their faces are suddenly inches apart again—so close Jeongyeon can feel her breath, feel the pause stretch thin and dangerous.

For a split second, it feels like they might kiss. Nayeon swallows. “What are you doing?” she asks quietly.

Reality slams back into Jeongyeon all at once. She pulls back just a fraction, heart pounding. “I—uh,” she stumbles, clearing her throat. “Helping. With your keys. Obviously.”

Nayeon hums, not convinced. Her lips twitch like she might smile. Like she might give in. Instead, she presses her hips back deliberately, just enough to make Jeongyeon’s breath hitch. “Back up,” she says, playful but firm. “You’re way too close.”

Jeongyeon immediately steps back. “Right. Yeah. Sorry.”

Nayeon finally finds the right key. The lock clicks, the door opening as if nothing just happened. Jeongyeon stands there, flustered now, staring at the doorway like it might bite her. What the hell am I doing? Momo’s voice echoes in her head. You’re a menace.

Nayeon steps inside, then turns back, raising an eyebrow. “You coming in or what?”

Jeongyeon hesitates. “I—no. I mean—”

But her feet betray her. She steps inside anyway. And the door closes behind them. They step fully inside, and Jeongyeon pauses without meaning to. Nayeon’s apartment is… nice. Really nice. Clean lines, soft lighting, minimal but intentional. A couch that looks barely used, abstract paintings on the walls, a sleek kitchen island with barstools tucked in neatly. It feels calm. Controlled. Very her.

Jeongyeon glances back to Nayeon—who’s already looking at her. That alone makes her pulse jump.

“So,” Jeongyeon clears her throat, trying for casual and landing somewhere stiff. “Uh. Let’s… sober you up, right?”

Nayeon nods, a small smile tugging at her lips. “Yeah.”

They slip off their shoes at the door. Coats follow. Jeongyeon checks the time without meaning to—10:57 p.m. Too late. Way too late. She has a flight tomorrow, early in the morning. A whole week away. This feels like a bad idea wrapped in a very tempting one.

Then Nayeon suddenly holds her hand out. Jeongyeon blinks at it. “What’s this?”

“Come with me,” Nayeon says simply.

Jeongyeon squints. “Is this part of the sobering-up process?”

Nayeon hums, eyes flicking up to meet hers. “Yeah. Totally.”

Jeongyeon does not believe her. Not even a little. Still, she takes her hand. The moment their fingers lace together, something tightens in Jeongyeon’s chest. Nayeon doesn’t hesitate—she turns and leads them down the short hallway, pace confident, grip firm.

“…You’re walking awfully fast for someone who’s drunk,” Jeongyeon mutters.

“Maybe you’re just slow,” Nayeon shoots back, glancing over her shoulder with a grin.

And then they’re in her bedroom. Jeongyeon stops short. It’s warm. Cozy. The lighting softer than the rest of the apartment. The bed neatly made, sheets slightly rumpled like Nayeon had actually used them this morning. And the smell—her perfume, stronger here, wrapping around Jeongyeon’s senses until she has to swallow.

Oh. This is bad.

Nayeon lets go of her hand and turns to face her. “Relax,” she says, amused. “You look like you’re about to bolt.”

“I’m not,” Jeongyeon lies immediately.

Nayeon raises an eyebrow. “You’re gripping the doorframe.”

Jeongyeon lets go like it burned her. “I just—thought this was supposed to be sobering you up. Not… whatever this is.”

Nayeon steps closer. Not touching. Just close enough. “What do you think this is?” she asks softly.

Jeongyeon meets her gaze, heart hammering. “I don’t know. That’s kind of the problem.”

For a moment, neither of them speaks. The air feels thick. Charged. Like one wrong move would snap something open. Nayeon breaks first, smiling faintly. “You’re overthinking again.”

“And you,” Jeongyeon counters, voice low, “are very aware of what you’re doing.”

Nayeon shrugs. “Maybe.”

She turns toward the bed, casually perching on the edge. “Sit. If I’m gonna sober up, you should supervise.”

Jeongyeon exhales slowly. Supervise. Sure. She sits—but not too close. At least, she tries not to. Their knees still brush. Accidentally. Definitely accidentally. Nayeon glances down at the contact, then back up at her. “You nervous?”

“No.”

“You sure?”

Jeongyeon tilts her head. “Are you?”

Nayeon opens her mouth—then closes it. A beat passes. She looks away first. Jeongyeon notices. And somehow, that makes everything worse.

Suddenly Jeongyeon’s phone buzzes again. She nearly sighs in relief. Thank God. She pulls it from her pocket, eyes dropping to the screen. Momo. Again.

Momo: girl what the fuck are you DOING!!????
Momo: are you STILL at her place???
Momo: where are you

Jeongyeon types back a little too fast.

Jeongyeon: yeah
Jeongyeon: just making sure she’s okay

The reply comes instantly.

Momo: jeong stop
Momo: leave right now
Momo: this is how bad decisions happen

Jeongyeon exhales through her nose, rubbing her thumb along the edge of her phone. She looks up—And realizes Nayeon is standing now.

“…Is that Momo again?” Nayeon asks, tilting her head, eyes a little glassy but sharp enough to read Jeongyeon’s face.

Jeongyeon blinks. “Wow. Didn’t think you remembered that.”

Nayeon shrugs. “I’m tipsy, not brain-dead.”

She turns away casually, walking toward her dresser. Jeongyeon glances back down at her phone just as Nayeon starts tugging at the hem of her own shirt. Jeongyeon freezes. “…Uh,” she says quickly, snapping her phone down and throwing a hand over her eyes. “What—what are you doing?”

Nayeon looks over her shoulder, genuinely confused. “Changing?”

Jeongyeon peeks between her fingers for half a second—regrets it instantly—and turns fully around. “You could’ve—warned me?”

Nayeon laughs softly. “Why? You’re acting like I’m doing something illegal.”

“I—” Jeongyeon clears her throat. “I’ll, uh. I’ll step out. Give you privacy.”

She stands up and takes exactly one step toward the door. Then she feels fingers curl into the back of her shirt. Not yanking. Just… stopping her.

“Don’t go yet,” Nayeon says, voice quieter now. “It’s fine. You don’t have to look.”

Jeongyeon’s entire body locks up. “Nayeon—”

“Just stay,” she adds, almost teasing. “Please.”

Jeongyeon swallows. Hard. “…Okay,” she says, voice way too tight.

She plants herself near the doorway, back turned, staring very intently at the wall like it’s the most interesting thing she’s ever seen. Behind her, she can hear soft movements—fabric, drawers, the unmistakable sound of someone taking their time. Her heart is pounding.

How did I get here!?
Why didn’t I listen to Momo??
Why am I still standing here???

Behind her, Nayeon giggles. “Relax,” she says. “You’re so tense.”

Jeongyeon presses her lips together. “You are dangerous.”

Nayeon hums. “You’re still here.”

Jeongyeon closes her eyes. Fuck. A few more seconds pass. Fabric rustles behind her. Jeongyeon’s shoulders are still tight, her back to the room, every nerve on high alert—when suddenly she feels it. A hand, light but deliberate, presses flat against the middle of her back. Jeongyeon inhales sharply and glances over her shoulder.

“I’m done changing,” Nayeon says, voice low and teasing, far too close. “Come on. Let’s go.”

Before Jeongyeon can respond—before she can think—Nayeon slips past her. And Jeongyeon’s breath catches as she sees her.

Nayeon only in a tank shirt and underwear, Jeongyeon can feel heat start to stir below her waist. The gray tank shirt, with clearly nothing underneath. The small print of her nipples were poking through the fabric, like they wanted to be seen. And the lace black panties—had Jeongyeon’s eyes going wide, as Nayeon acted like nothing was going on.

Jeongyeon had to control herself. She told herself she doesn’t want to stare. But she can’t help it. Her eyes register enough in that split second to make heat rush straight to her ears, her neck, her chest. Meanwhile, Nayeon was acting casual and unbothered, like she doesn’t realize the effect she’s having—or worse, like she knows exactly what she’s doing.

Jeongyeon swallows hard. She’s doing this on purpose, she thought to herself.

Her fingers curl slightly at her sides, nails pressing into her palms as she forces herself to look anywhere but directly at Nayeon. She can feel it now—this pull, this ache, this dangerous, reckless urge creeping up her spine.

I want her, her mind admits, too easily. And this would ruin everything.

She clears her throat, clinging to the excuse like a lifeline. “Y-Yeah. Let’s, uh… sober you up.” Smooth. Real smooth. “I’ll get you some water,” she adds quickly, already turning toward the kitchen before her resolve cracks completely.

“Mm-hmm,” Nayeon hums behind her. “Water sounds good.”

After making it down the hall, Jeongyeon feels like she’s going dizzy. The kitchen light feels too bright. Too real. Soon enough, Jeongyeon opens the fridge, and finds a water pitcher inside.

Good. This is good.

She grabs the cold pitcher, and reaches into the cabinet for a glass—hands steady through sheer force of will. When she finally finds a glass, she turns to kitchen counter and pours slowly, focusing on the sound of water filling the cup, on anything that isn’t the awareness of Nayeon standing a little too close behind her.

She glances over her shoulder without thinking. Bad idea.

Nayeon’s leaning against the counter now, watching her openly. There’s color in her cheeks, her expression soft but intent, like she’s studying Jeongyeon just as closely as Jeongyeon’s trying not to study her. Their eyes meet. Jeongyeon feels it—something tight and electric snapping between them. She looks away first.

Breathe, she tells herself. In. Out. Don’t do something stupid.

But her heart won’t slow down.

What did I get myself into?????

She sets the glass down gently in front of Nayeon, as they’re standing shoulder to shoulder now. And she makes sure to careful not let their fingers touch—because she knows, deep down, that if they do… she might not pull away this time.

Nayeon takes the glass from her and drinks slowly. Too slowly. Her eyes never leave Jeongyeon’s face as she does it, and Jeongyeon feels lightheaded—like the room has tilted just slightly off its axis. God, this girl was doing this on purpose. Testing her. Pushing, poking, seeing just how far she could go before Jeongyeon broke. When the glass is empty, Nayeon sets it down gently and nudges it back toward her. “Can you pour me another one?”

Jeongyeon blinks. “You—already?”

She tries to laugh it off, but it comes out strained. Still, she nods and turns back toward the fridge, grateful for the excuse to look away. She grabs the pitcher, pours the water, sets it down—

And then she feels it. A hand, warm and steady, resting on her shoulder. Jeongyeon freezes. She turns slowly, glass still in her hand. “Here,” she says automatically. “Your water.”

Nayeon doesn’t take it. She’s close now. Close enough that Jeongyeon can feel her presence, the heat of her, the way the air seems heavier between them. Nayeon’s hand doesn’t move. “Jeong,” she murmurs.

Jeongyeon’s throat tightens. “What is it?”

Nayeon hesitates. Her lips press together like she’s holding something back, her eyes searching Jeongyeon’s face—waiting.

And then something in Jeongyeon snaps.

Maybe it’s the alcohol. Maybe it’s the weeks of tension, the teasing, the almosts. Maybe it’s the way Nayeon is standing there like she already knows the answer.

Jeongyeon exhales sharply and leans in.

Their lips meet.

It’s brief—just long enough to register the shock of it, the warmth, the way everything suddenly goes silent. Then Jeongyeon pulls back, breath unsteady, heart pounding like she’s just stepped off a cliff.

Nayeon stares at her. For half a second, Jeongyeon thinks she just ruined everything. But then Nayeon leans in, and kisses her back.

This time, it’s deliberate. Her hands rise, light and sure, one at Jeongyeon’s jaw, the other brushing her neck. The kiss deepens—not rushed, not frantic, just certain. Jeongyeon’s grip tightens on the counter as she gives in, her thoughts scattering, the tension finally breaking after holding for so long.

This is what I wanted, she realizes dimly.
This is exactly what I didn’t want to want.

Her phone buzzes. The sound cuts through them like a blade. They break apart immediately, breathless, foreheads almost touching. Jeongyeon’s chest rises and falls too fast, her pulse roaring in her ears.

For a moment, neither of them speaks. Everything feels like it’s crashing down at once—desire, doubt, excitement, fear—all tangled together. Jeongyeon swallows hard, phone still vibrating in her pocket.

God. She finally got what she’d been wanting. And now… she has no idea what comes next.

The vibration of Jeongyeon’s phone stops. For a moment, neither of them moves. They’re still close—too close—Nayeon’s hands resting at the back of Jeongyeon’s neck and along her jaw, warm and grounding. Their foreheads are nearly touching, breaths uneven, shared. Nayeon leans in again, just a fraction, and Jeongyeon closes her eyes, already giving in—

Buzz.

Jeongyeon exhales sharply and opens her eyes. Her hand instinctively dips toward her pocket. Before she can reach it, Nayeon’s hand slips down and catches her wrist. Jeongyeon freezes. She looks at her then—really looks—and for the first time, she can’t quite read her. There’s a flicker of something on Nayeon’s face, a small pout forming, frustration mixed with hesitation.

“What is it?” Jeongyeon asks quietly.

Nayeon shrugs, eyes flicking between her eyes and her lips. “I don’t know.”

That answer hits harder than Jeongyeon expects. But instead of stepping back, Nayeon leans in and captures her lips again. This kiss is deeper, more insistent. Jeongyeon melts into it, her hands finding Nayeon’s waist. In between breathless kisses, Jeongyeon pulls back just enough to speak, her voice a husky whisper. “Are you gonna touch me again?”

Nayeon just looks her dead in the eye and nods, biting her lower lip. Her hands, which had been resting on Jeongyeon’s waist, slide down her back, tracing the curve of her spine until they reach her ass. She gets a good handful, squeezing hard, possessively.

Jeongyeon’s head falls forward, her forehead landing on Nayeon’s shoulder as a breathless laugh escapes her. “Oh my god.”

“What?” Nayeon murmurs into her hair, a smug smile in her voice. She knows exactly what she’s doing. She squeezes again, her fingers digging into the denim. “I know you like it when I do this.”

Jeongyeon is folding, she can feel it. She pulls back just enough to look at her, and Nayeon immediately leans in to kiss her again, swallowing any protest she might have had. Jeongyeon tries to hold back, her hands pressing against Nayeon’s shoulders, but a small moan escapes her lips. Nayeon’s eyes flick down between them, to where their bodies are pressed flush together. She can feel it, the hard, insistent press of Jeongyeon’s length against her thigh.

A slow, wicked grin spreads across Nayeon’s face. “I know this turns you on, doesn’t it?” she whispers, her voice a low, teasing purr. “When I grab you like this.”

Jeongyeon can only manage a choked sound in response. She’s so turned on it hurts. “Can I… can I touch you again too?”

Nayeon nods, her grip on Jeongyeon’s ass never faltering. Hesitantly, Jeongyeon’s hand comes up, her fingers tracing the soft fabric of Nayeon’s gray tank top. She can feel the small, hard points of her nipples poking through, begging for attention. She cups one, her thumb brushing over the peak, and Nayeon’s body shudders against her.

They’re kissing again, a frantic, messy tangle of tongues and teeth. Nayeon is groping her ass, pulling her closer, and Jeongyeon is grinding against her, her length getting fully hard now. Jeongyeon’s hands are kneading Nayeon’s breasts, her touch growing more confident with every passing second.

They pull away, breathless and panting, their faces flushed. For a second, Jeongyeon thinks this is it, this is the moment. But then Nayeon’s expression shifts. She pushes Jeongyeon away, just enough to create a sliver of space between them.

Jeongyeon’s heart sinks. Is this rejection now? She can’t tell from the look on Nayeon’s face if she’s changed her mind, if this was all a mistake. But then Nayeon reaches out again—this time for her hand. “Come here,” she says softly, her voice low, coaxing.

Jeongyeon should stop. She knows she should. She doesn’t. Nayeon leads her toward the living room, fingers laced together, and when they reach the couch, Nayeon sits back against it, looking up at her with an expression that makes Jeongyeon’s resolve crumble completely.

Jeongyeon leans down towards her. Then they kiss again—slower this time, heavier with everything unsaid. Jeongyeon braces herself on the couch, hovering over her, heart pounding, mind spinning. The world narrows down to the warmth between them, the way Nayeon’s hands slide back to her neck, anchoring her there.

This isn’t teasing anymore. This is real. And as Jeongyeon finally pulls back just enough to breathe, one thought crashes through her mind, loud and undeniable:

She’s already in too deep.

They kiss more—slow at first, then a little more desperate, like neither of them knows how to stop without regretting it. Jeongyeon’s thoughts are a complete blur, heart hammering so loudly she swears Nayeon can feel it.

Every time Nayeon pulls back to breathe, it only makes Jeongyeon want to lean in again, like gravity is working against her. Nayeon’s hand, which had been resting on her thigh, slides down and grabs a handful of her ass through her jeans, squeezing hard.

Jeongyeon lets out a small, helpless whimper into Nayeon’s mouth, her hips rocking forward of their own accord. She can feel herself, hard and ready, grinding against Nayeon’s hip, and the friction is maddening. Nayeon just smirks against her lips and squeezes her ass again, pulling her even closer.

Then—

Buzz.

Jeongyeon freezes, and pulls her mouth away from hers, a panting mess. Nayeon looks up at her, eyes unfocused, lips parted, clearly not ready to stop either.

“I—” Jeongyeon lets out a breathy laugh, half-nervous, half-joking. “You know… I don’t even have a condom.”

Nayeon blinks at her for a second, then smirks. “When did I say you’d need one?”

Jeongyeon exhales, shaking her head with a helpless smile. “You’re dangerous.”

Nayeon tilts her head. “You like it though.”

Jeongyeon doesn’t even hesitate. “Yeah. I think I do.”

Nayeon giggles softly and pulls her back in for another kiss—brief, lingering, just enough to make Jeongyeon’s resolve crumble all over again. This time, it’s deeper, more insistent, their tongues meeting in a slow, sensual dance that makes Jeongyeon’s head spin. Nayeon pulls back, her lips swollen and her eyes dark with desire, looking up at Jeongyeon who is hovering over her.

“Can I have it now?” Nayeon whispers, her voice a husky plea.

Jeongyeon’s heart skips a beat. She can only manage a dumb, shaky nod.

Nayeon’s hand snakes down between them, her palm pressing firmly against the crotch of Jeongyeon’s jeans. She can feel the hard, thick length straining against the denim, a clear testament to how badly Jeongyeon wants her. A small, triumphant smile plays on Nayeon’s lips. “Yeah?”

Jeongyeon swallows hard, her voice cracking. “Yes.”

That’s all the permission Nayeon needs. Her fingers begin to fumble with the belt of Jeongyeon’s jeans, the leather buckle clinking softly in the quiet room. She undoes it, then pops the button of her jeans and pulls down the zipper, each movement deliberate and teasing.

They kiss again, a messy, desperate clash of lips and teeth as Nayeon pushes the denim down just enough for the band of Jeongyeon’s boxers to show. Her hand hovers at the waistband, her fingers teasing the elastic.

Jeongyeon is holding her breath, every nerve ending on fire. She can feel the warmth from Nayeon’s palm so close to where she desperately wants it, so close it’s almost a form of torture.

Nayeon pulls back from the kiss, her lips parted, her eyes dark and fixed on her own hand. She looks down, curious and intent, wanting to see it, wanting to touch it. Her fingers slip just under the waistband of the boxers, the tips brushing against coarse hair.

Jeongyeon’s entire body tenses.

Holy shit, she’s about to touch it. She’s about to see it. This is it. This is really—

RING! RING! RING!

The sound is shrill and loud, a full-on, relentless ring that cuts through the haze of lust like a fire alarm.

“Shit!” Jeongyeon yelps, scrambling back like she’s been electrocuted. She nearly falls off the couch in her haste, fumbling with her jeans and trying to stuff herself back in, her hands shaking so badly she can’t get the zipper up. She finally digs her phone out of her pocket and doesn’t even need to look to know who it is.

It’s Momo.

Of course it’s Momo. Jeongyeon groans under her breath and glances at the time. It’s nearly midnight now. “Okay—okay,” she says quickly, standing up, suddenly all nerves and panic. “I—I really need to go. Like, seriously.”

Nayeon sits there on the couch, blinking up at her, clearly sobered by the sudden shift. Flustered. Quiet. Pouting just a little. Jeongyeon swallows hard. “I’ll… uh. I’ll see you later.”

“Okay,” Nayeon says softly, still dazed.

Jeongyeon can’t bring herself to look at her for more than a second. She slips on her shoes at the door, grabs her coat, movements rushed and awkward. “Just—uh—make sure you lock the door, yeah?” she adds, already halfway out the exit.

Nayeon nods. “Yeah. I will.”

Jeongyeon practically bolts, and slams the the front door on her way out. The hallway feels too quiet. Too long. Her phone stops ringing, but when she looks down, she sees it—fifteen angry messages. “Fuck,” she whispers. “What the fuck did I just do?”

She jabs the elevator button like it’s personally responsible for her bad decisions. When the doors finally open, she rushes inside, chest heaving, hands shaking.

Her phone rings again. Loud. Insistent. Jeongyeon lets her head fall back against the elevator wall, staring at the ceiling as it begins to descend. “This is a mess,” she mutters to herself. “Everything is a fucking mess.”

And for the first time all night, she isn’t joking at all.

——–

Momo was at home now and pissed.

After that first kiss with Mina, her night was going good. Well until she got that fucking SOS message from Jeongyeon about an hour ago.

Now she’s sprawled across her bed, phone pressed to her ear, staring up at the ceiling while the call rings… and rings… and then—Voicemail. “Fuck,” she mutters, pulling the phone away and ending the call. She drops it onto her chest and lets out a long, frustrated huff. “What the fuck are you doing!?”

She’s already called her three times. Texted her even more, and still nothing. No reply. No explanation. Just radio silence.

Momo drags a hand down her face and then smacks it over her eyes, groaning into her palm. “Jesus Christ. I swear to fucking God, I told her not to do this.” Her jaw clenches. “She never listens.”

That’s what scares her. Jeongyeon always acts like she has things under control—until she doesn’t. And Momo can practically see it now: her best friend about to complicate everything, about to get hurt, and about to screw things up right before a huge work trip.

Then her phone buzzes. Momo peeks through her fingers and squints at the screen.

Mina.

It’s an Instagram DM—some dumb meme, probably something unhinged and painfully on-brand. Mina always texts her something like this, right before she goes to bed. Momo sighs and opens it anyway.

Her irritation softens almost immediately, the knot in her chest loosening just a little. She doesn’t even realize she’s smiling until she feels it. “God,” she murmurs, glancing at the time. It’s midnight. “What the hell…”

She rolls onto her side, staring at Mina’s name on her screen longer than necessary, thumb hovering like she can’t decide what to do next. Jeongyeon still hasn’t replied. But somehow—annoyingly—Momo’s heart feels a little lighter than it did a minute ago.

Her mind wanders to what happened hours ago. The kiss. They really had their first kiss.

And that only makes everything feel more complicated. Momo texts Mina back, sending a quick message, she knows the girl won’t respond to, probably until she wakes up in the morning. And as momo watches the meme, she shakes her head a bit. This one actually earned a smile this time. A real one. God—damn it.

The smile fades just a little as the thought hits her again. She leaves tomorrow, to china. A full week with Jengyeon and the rest of the product management team. No Mina. No shared lunches. No running into her by accident and pretending it totally wasn’t intentional.

Just thinking about it makes her chest feel heavy. They texted briefly about what happened after she got home. Mina said she liked it. The kiss they had. So….they were good. But she was still on edge.

God, she really wants to go on a date with Mina. Like a real one.

Momo exhales and turns her phone off, tossing it onto the bed beside her before closing her eyes. Get some sleep, she tells herself.

Then her phone buzzes almost immediately. Momo groans, then grabs it anyway.

Mina—already replied.

Her eyebrows lift as she checks the time. It’s well past midnight. She types back:

Momo: girl why are you still awake
Momo: do you just scroll memes at ungodly hours???

A second later:

Mina: You know I like to late night scrolling on weekends LOL
Mina: also chaeyoung is being weird in the gc rn

Momo pauses.

Momo: …weird how

Mina: idk
Mina: she’s just quiet
Mina: and then randomly sent like three ??? messages and dipped

Momo stares at the screen, frowning slightly.

Momo: i literally told you something was off with her the other day
Momo: what did y’all do to her 😭

Mina: WE didn’t do anything
Mina: she went to lunch with tzuyu remember

Momo goes still for a second. Then—

Momo: oh my god
Momo: she got fucking traumatized

Mina: momo 😭

Momo: i’m serious what the fuck happened at that lunch
Momo: why is she moving like that

Mina: i don’t know…
Mina: she won’t say anything yet

There’s a small pause.

Mina: nayeon noticed too

Momo exhales, sunking more into her bed slightly.

Momo: yeah of course she did
Momo: we’re all messy but not blind

There’s another pause. The tone softens just a little.

Momo: check on her tomorrow
Momo: like actually

Mina: i will
Mina: i’m a good friend 🙄

Momo: debatable

Momo lets out a quiet laugh. Oh right. It’s Saturday… well technically Sunday now. She hesitates, thumbs hovering.

Momo: I should probably sleep

Momo: I have to be up early for the airport today

She sends it—and immediately regrets it.

Mina: then maybe you should go to bed

Momo bites her lip, heart thudding a little harder.

Momo: mmm….I don’t know.

Another pause passes between them.

Momo: I think I’m gonna miss you, especially after today.

There’s a beat. Then:

Mina: oh? you’re gonna miss me?

Momo smiles to herself, wide and helpless.

Momo: yeah…..I am.

And suddenly, the idea of sleep feels impossible. Momo closes her eyes, heart thudding hard against her ribs. God—she’s falling for Mina. Harder than she meant to. Harder than she’s ready to admit out loud.

The worst part? She has no idea if Mina wants the same or not. Like, she knows Mina definitely likes her. The flirting is there, the warmth, the way Mina always seems to linger—but nothing’s been said, like dating wise. And then the kiss today? Nothing is exactly super clear. And Momo hates the not-knowing.

Her phone buzzes again. She opens her eyes and looks.

Mina: Do you want to call?

Momo freezes. A call. Now? This late? Her fingers hover over the screen before she types back:

Momo: are you sure? it’s really late

The reply comes almost instantly.

Mina: it’s fine. just call me. I’m up.

Momo swallows. Her heart kicks up another notch.

She hesitates, thumb hovering over Mina’s contact—then, almost unconsciously, she swipes out of the messages and checks Jeongyeon’s thread.

Still nothing.

Momo exhales sharply, irritation bubbling up again. Unbelievable. She rubs her face, muttering under her breath. “You better not be doing something stupid.”

She lets out a long sigh.

Enough.

If she keeps spiraling about Jeongyeon, she’s going to lose her mind. Mina’s right there. Reaching out. Waiting.

“Fuck it,” Momo murmurs.

She taps Mina’s name and hits call.

The phone goes on speaker, resting against her chest as she sinks back into the bed, staring up at the ceiling. Her heartbeat is loud in her ears as the line rings once… twice—

Then—

“Hello?”

Mina’s voice fills the room, soft and a little sleepy. And just like that, the tension melts out of Momo’s shoulders. Her lips curve into a small, helpless smile. God. Just hearing her is enough.

“Hey,” Momo says quietly, her voice gentler than she meant it to be.

There’s a brief pause on the other end, then Mina lets out a soft laugh. “You called.”

“Yeah,” Momo replies. “I did.”

Another pause—comfortable, warm.

“I’m glad,” Mina says.

Momo closes her eyes again, phone still pressed to her chest, heart steadying for the first time all night.

“Me too.”

There’s a stretch of silence on the line—but it isn’t awkward. It’s warm. Comfortable. The kind of quiet that settles in when neither of them feels the need to rush.

Momo listens to Mina’s breathing on the other end, slow and steady, and she lets herself relax into it. For a moment, she just stays like that. Quiet. Content. But then— “…Mina?” she says softly.

“Mm?”

Momo hesitates. God, why is this so hard. “…about earlier…..the kiss…”

There’s a tiny shift on the other end of the line. Fabric rustling. Like Mina just turned over in bed. “…yeah,” Mina says, quieter now.

Momo exhales through her nose, staring up at the ceiling again. “I know we texted and talked about it already. I just—” she starts, then stops. “I wanted to make sure you… didn’t hate it.”

There’s a beat. Then—Mina laughs. Soft. A little incredulous. “I literally texted you and said that that I liked it.”

“I know,” Momo says quickly. “I just—” She groans, dragging a hand over her face. “I don’t know. I just needed to hear you say it again.”

Another pause. Then Mina’s voice comes back—gentler this time. “I liked it,” she says, slow and clear. Momo’s chest tightens, and she continues. “…a lot actually.”

Momo goes still. Her fingers curl slightly against her shirt, right where her heart is. “…okay,” she murmurs, like that somehow settles everything. (It does.)

On the other end, Mina shifts again, a little restless now. “…it was just…” Mina trails off.

Momo’s eyes open. “What?”

“…new,” Mina admits. “And I think I kind of… panicked.”

Momo huffs out a quiet laugh. “Yeah, I noticed.”

“Hey,” Mina protests weakly.

“But you didn’t pull away,” Momo adds, softer now.

Silence hits them. Then— “…no,” Mina says.

And there’s something in her voice this time. Something quieter. More honest. Momo swallows. “…would you want to… try again?” she asks before she can stop herself.

Then there’s immediate regret.

Her eyes squeeze shut. “I mean—not right now, obviously, you’re at home, I’m at home, that would be weird—but like—I just meant—later—at some point—if you—”

“Momo.”

She stops. “…yeah?”

Mina’s voice is small. But steady. “…I was actually thinking that too.”

Momo’s entire body goes still. “…yeah?”

“…yeah.”

There’s a tiny pause. Then Mina, quieter now—almost embarrassed: “…maybe… It’ll be better next time. But it was still good tonight. I really liked it.”

Momo lets out a soft, breathless laugh, her hand covering her face. “Okay,” she says, voice dropping. “Yeah. We can… we can do better next time.”

“Yeah,” Mina echoes.

They both go quiet again. But it’s different now. Heavier. Warmer. Full of something unspoken. Then Mina speaks.

“So, are you excited for your trip?” Her voice is gentle, a little hushed, like she doesn’t want to break the mood.

Momo exhales softly. “Yeah… I mean, I guess.” She smiles despite herself. “It’s work, so it’s fine. But—like I said—I’m gonna miss you.”

There’s a small pause, and then Mina giggles. It’s light and warm, and it makes Momo’s chest tighten in the best way.

“You’ll be fine,” Mina says teasingly. “I’ll text you all the time. Probably annoy you.”

Momo chuckles. “I don’t think that’s possible.”

“Oh?” Mina hums. “What if I call you too much?”

Momo’s heart skips. “You calling me too much?” she repeats, feigning casualness she definitely does not feel. “Wow. I feel special.”

“You are,” Mina replies easily, like it’s the most obvious thing in the world.

Momo bites the inside of her cheek, staring up at the ceiling. God. This girl is killing her. “I’m happy to hear that,” she says softly. “I think hearing your voice from time to time out there would make the trip way less terrible.”

Another quiet moment settles in, thicker now. More charged. Then Mina shifts slightly on the other end. “So… is your bag packed already?”

Momo’s lips part to answer—And then—

“Oh,” Mina adds, almost as an afterthought, “did Jeongyeon ever text you back?”

Momo stiffens instantly. The warmth in her chest tightens, twisting into tension. Her shoulders tense, fingers curling slightly into the sheets. “No,” she says, a little sharper than she intended. She clears her throat. “She didn’t.”

Mina hums. “That’s weird. You sounded pretty stressed about her earlier.”

“Yeah,” Momo exhales. “She’s just—being Jeongyeon.” She rubs her forehead. “She knows we leave early today. I don’t know what she’s doing.”

There’s concern in Mina’s voice now. “Do you think she’s okay?”

“I hope so,” Momo mutters. “I swear, if she’s messing things up right now—”

She stops herself, exhaling slowly. Mina softens again. “Hey,” she says quietly. “You don’t have to stress about it right now. You’re here. With me. You can relax a bit.”

Momo closes her eyes. “…Yeah,” she murmurs. “You’re right.”

Her grip loosens. Her breathing evens out. Mina smiles through her voice. “Good. Because I kinda want your attention.”

Momo laughs softly, heart thudding again. “You already have it.”

The two of them giggle softly, the sound low and sleepy, like it belongs to the hour. Momo exhales, long and slow, but the worry doesn’t leave her chest. It just settles there, heavy. “…I don’t know,” she finally admits, voice quieter now. “I just—something feels off.”

Mina hums on the other end, attentive. “What do you mean?”

Momo hesitates. She stares up at the ceiling, jaw tightening as she tries to piece it together in a way that won’t sound dramatic. “It’s just… Jeongyeon texted me earlier saying she was out with Nayeon. Dinner or whatever. That was fine.”

“Okay,” Mina says slowly.

“But then later,” Momo continues, tension creeping into her voice, “she texts me out of nowhere. Like—an actual SOS. Saying Nayeon wanted her to come up stairs to her place, when she dropped her off.”

There’s a pause. “Oh,” Mina says, clearly surprised. “I didn’t know they were doing that.”

Momo’s stomach twists. “You didn’t?”

“No,” Mina answers honestly. “I mean… Nayeon’s mentioned going out to eat with Jeongyeon before. Said they’re friends, get lunch and dinner sometimes, text here and there. But I didn’t know they were hanging out on the weekends like that, and having her at her apartment…..”

Momo’s fingers curl into the sheets. Her heart starts beating a little faster. How did she not know?

Before Momo can spiral too far, Mina gently cuts in. “I think you might be worrying a bit too much.”

Momo lets out a sharp breath. “That’s the problem,” she mutters. “You don’t know her like I—”

She stops herself. She doesn’t know how to explain the tone of Jeongyeon’s message. The panic. The timing. The fact that Jeongyeon never ignores her calls.

Mina’s voice softens. “Hey. Nayeon can handle herself, okay? She’s been through a lot. She knows her limits.” She pauses. “I really think they’re fine. Genuinely.”

Momo swallows. “Maybe.”

But she doesn’t believe it—not fully.

“Usually,” Momo admits quietly, “Jeongyeon comes by my place before heading home, since she lives close by. Especially before trips like this. Just to check in.” Her voice dips slightly. “She always answers my calls. Always.”

Mina doesn’t interrupt this time.

“And now she’s not,” Momo finishes, frustration and worry tangled together. “We leave in a few hours. And she won’t even text me back.”

There’s a beat of silence—then Mina speaks, softer than before. “I get why you’re worried.”

That alone makes Momo’s chest loosen just a little. Mina adds gently, “But you don’t have to carry all of it right now. You’re allowed to rest too.”

Momo closes her eyes, phone warm against her chest. “…I know.”

“And,” Mina says, a faint smile in her voice, “I’m right here. Okay?”

Momo’s lips curve into a small, tired smile. “Okay.”

Even with the worry still buzzing under her skin, hearing Mina say that makes the night feel a little less heavy. Mina’s voice shifts a little, thoughtful. “Can I ask you something?”

“Yeah?” Momo answers immediately.

“Do you… always worry about your friends this much?”

Momo lets out a soft, almost incredulous laugh. “Of course I do. That’s just how I am.” She pauses, then adds gently, “You’re not the same with yours? Like—with Nayeon and Chaeyoung?”

There’s a small hesitation on the other end of the line. Mina hums quietly, like she’s sorting through her thoughts. “…Yeah. I guess I am,” she admits. “I’ve known them for a while. Ever since I started at our company as an intern, actually. It’s been a couple of years now.”

Momo listens closely, barely breathing, afraid of interrupting.

“Nayeon’s…” Mina trails off, then chuckles softly. “She’s stubborn. Really stubborn. And very private—especially when it comes to people she’s… messing around with.”

Momo’s jaw tightens just a bit.

“She has this rule,” Mina continues, “that she doesn’t really date. And she definitely doesn’t get involved with anyone at work. Ever.” Mina sounds certain about it. “That’s why I’m not as worried as you are. She’s really firm about her boundaries, at least most of the time.”

Momo swallows, saying nothing.

“She can handle herself,” Mina adds, more serious now. “I’ve seen her deal with way worse situations than this. So honestly… I think it’s kind of nice that Jeongyeon’s just a friend to her, or whatever that are. I think it’s good for her to have someone new in her life, outside of me and Chaeyoung. Same goes for Chaeyoung too, and her having Tzuyu, despite whatever the hell it is right now—she’s different from Nayeon for sure. Softer. More careful with her words. But she cares a lot. Especially for others.”

Momo hums quietly in response, taking it all in. She realizes she really likes this—hearing Mina talk about her world, her people, the way she understands them. It makes Momo feel closer to Mina somehow. Like it’s more real.

“That’s… really nice,” Momo says softly. “The way you talk about them.” There’s a small pause. “And,” Momo adds, almost shyly, “I like learning this stuff about you.”

Mina smiles through the phone—Momo can hear it. “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” Momo replies. Her heart thumps a little harder. Maybe it’s selfish, she thinks, but I want to be part of her world too. Not replacing anyone. Just… taking up a little space in Mina’s life, if it’s possible.

And for the first time that night, the worry loosens its grip—just enough for something warmer to settle in its place. Momo laughs softly, but there’s a tremble in it. “God… I’m really gonna miss you.”

Mina’s giggle comes through the speaker, quieter now, drowsy and warm. “You’re already acting like you’re gone,” she teases.

Momo glances at the time again. Now it’s 1:07 a.m. “Wow… it’s really late.” She exhales, then blurts, almost sheepish, “Is it selfish that I just wanna stay on the phone with you a little longer?”

“Not at all,” Mina says easily. “We’ve done this before, remember? Falling asleep on the phone too.”

Momo chuckles, smiling into the darkness. “God, I feel so stupid. I’m acting like a teenager with you.”

Mina laughs too. “Yeah….it does feel like that a bit.”

There’s a pause—comfortable, but charged. And then Momo hears it. It’s subtle. Barely anything. Just the soft sound of Mina breathing on the other end of the line—slow, warm, a little uneven like she’s smiling or half-laying down.

But something about it—Momo’s smile falters. Just a little. A strange feeling creeps up her spine. Familiar. Too familiar. Her brows knit slightly in the dark, her grip tightening around her phone. She doesn’t know why, but for a split second, she’s not in her room anymore— She’s somewhere else. Dim lights. Music muffled through walls. A door. A stall. A breath—just like that. Close. Warm. Right there.

Momo blinks hard, like she’s trying to shake it off. What the fuck?

“Momo?” Mina’s voice comes through again, soft, grounding.

“Yeah—yeah,” Momo says quickly, a little too quick. She lets out a small laugh, trying to play it off. “Sorry. I just… spaced out for a second.”

But her heart is beating faster now. That weird, crawling intuition buzzing under her skin like static. She doesn’t understand it. Doesn’t want to understand it. So she ignores it and pushes it down.

Because Mina is still there. Still warm. Still real. And for some reason… that feeling doesn’t scare her as much as it probably should. There’s another pause—heavier now, even if Mina doesn’t realize it. Momo swallows, then before she can overthink it, the words slip out. “Can I… see you again?”

“When?” Mina asks, playful.

“I—” Momo hesitates. “I don’t know.”

Mina hums. “We were with each other a couple of hours ago. And then in a few hours you’ll be at the airport, then on a plane to China.”

“Yeah,” Momo sighs. “That’s the problem.” She swallows. “What about after?”

“After?” Mina repeats, her voice dipping into something teasing. “What do you mean?”

Momo feels her cheeks burn. “Like… when I get back. Maybe we could— I don’t know—hang out?”

“Hang out? Like we did today?” Mina presses gently.

Momo exhales, frustrated with herself. “I don’t know. I mean we had kissed today. And we definitely aren’t professional anymore…..” Her breath hitches.” God, this is so stupid—” She groans quietly. “But would you maybe want to get dinner with me?”

“Dinner?” Mina echoes.

Momo squeezes her eyes shut. “Like—” She rushes it now. “Like a date, Mina. Would you want to go on a date with me? Like an offical one?”

The line goes quiet. Momo’s stomach drops. Her heart is pounding way too fast now. Fuck. That was too much. She’s gonna say no.

Then Mina’s voice comes back, clear and calm. “Yeah,” she says. “I’d like that. Let’s do that.”

Momo’s eyes snap open. She sits straight up in bed. “Wait—seriously?”

Mina laughs softly. “Yeah. Seriously.”

“You’d actually… go on a date with me?” Momo asks, stunned.

“Why wouldn’t I? I mean we literally kissed today.” Mina replies, like it’s the most obvious thing in the world.

Momo just sits there, phone pressed to her chest, grinning like an idiot. Her heart is in full swing now, racing, buzzing, alive. “Oh my god,” she breathes. “Okay. Yeah. Okay.”

Mina smiles through the line. “Get some sleep, Momorin. We’ll talk soon.”

“Yeah,” Momo says softly. “Goodnight, Minari.”

“Goodnight.”

The call ends, and Momo just stares at the ceiling, heart still pounding.

God. She really, really likes her.