Chapter Text
-
The dorm door creaked open, its sound sharp in the otherwise quiet living room. The faint hum of the refrigerator filled the silence, along with the occasional car horn from the city outside. The dorm was dimly lit, the soft glow of a floor lamp casting long shadows across the furniture. Jimin sat on the couch, her phone forgotten in her lap as her eyes flicked toward the doorway.
Minjeong stepped in, her sneakers scuffing softly against the wooden floor as she kicked them off. She didn’t look toward Jimin, instead tossing her bag carelessly against the wall and heading straight to the kitchen. The tap of her footsteps echoed faintly, fading as she disappeared into the adjacent room.
Jimin clenched her jaw, the muscles in her neck tightening. Finally, she set her phone aside and stood, the couch creaking softly beneath her as she moved toward the kitchen.
“Long night?” Her voice broke through the quiet, sharp and deliberate.
Minjeong didn’t reply. The fridge door opened with a low suctioned pop . She pulled out a bottle of water, the cap clicking faintly as she twisted it off.
“I’m talking to you,” Jimin pressed, stopping at the edge of the counter.
Minjeong paused mid-sip, turning her head just enough to glance over her shoulder. Her expression was calm, her brow slightly raised as if to say, What now?
“And?”
“And maybe you could at least say something when you walk in,” Jimin shot back, her arms crossing tightly over her chest. “Instead of pretending I’m not here.”
Minjeong leaned back against the counter, tilting her head slightly. “Hello, Jimin. Happy?”
Jimin’s lips pressed into a thin line. “Do you even realize how you look right now? Coming home like this?”
Minjeong took another slow sip of water, setting the bottle down on the counter with a soft thud. “Care to elaborate?”
“You’re out all night, Minjeong,” Jimin said, her voice dropping. “Every night. What do you think people are going to say? You think they won’t find out eventually?”
Minjeong shrugged, her movements unhurried, almost lazy. “No one seemed to care until you brought it up.”
Jimin’s frustration boiled over. “You don’t think this affects us? We’re in the same group. People talk. If you keep showing up late or looking like you just rolled out of someone else’s bed—”
Minjeong’s smirk widened, subtle but cutting. “Ah. There it is.”
Jimin faltered for a split second, but Minjeong wasn’t finished.
“Go on,” Minjeong said, her voice calm but pointed. “Tell me what you’re really mad about. Is it the late nights? Or is it because you know exactly whose bed I rolled out of?”
Jimin’s breath caught, her lips parting as the accusation settled between them like a stormcloud. “You don’t know what you’re talking about.”
Minjeong pushed off the counter, her movements fluid, deliberate. She stepped closer, her gaze steady and unwavering. “Don’t I?”
“Minjeong,” Jimin said, her voice tight, almost warning.
“What, Jimin?” Minjeong tilted her head slightly, her tone sharp and soft all at once. “You want me to stop? Maybe I should just stay in, pray a little, and hope all my sins go away?”
Jimin’s face tightened, her composure cracking as the words landed with precision. “You think this is funny?”
“No,” Minjeong said simply, her smirk fading as she stepped past Jimin. Her shoulder brushed Jimin’s, light but deliberate. “I think you’re funny. Always so worked up about something that’s none of your business.”
Jimin turned to follow her, fists clenched at her sides. “It is my business when it starts to affect all of us.”
Minjeong paused in the doorway, her back to Jimin. She looked over her shoulder, her face unreadable. “You should relax, Jimin. All that stress can’t be good for you.”
And then she was gone, leaving Jimin standing in the kitchen, with her thoughts being a tangled mess.
-
The dorm was quiet the next morning.
The soft light seeped through the curtains in the shared living room. The faint smell of coffee lingered in the air, and Jimin was already awake, perched on the couch with a blanket loosely draped over her lap. She wasn’t scrolling her phone or watching TV; she was simply staring ahead, her mind stuck replaying the events of the night before.
Minjeong hadn’t spoken to her after the argument. No surprise there. She’d disappeared into her room, and when Jimin woke up, the door was slightly ajar, the room empty. As always, Minjeong was out somewhere, God only knew where.
The sound of a door creaking open pulled Jimin from her thoughts. Aeri stepped out of her room, her hair slightly mussed from sleep. She yawned, rubbing her eyes as she noticed Jimin sitting silently on the couch.
“Morning,” Aeri mumbled, padding over to the kitchen to make herself a cup of coffee.
Jimin hesitated, her fingers tightening around the blanket. She debated saying anything, but the words bubbled up before she could stop them. “Have you seen Minjeong?”
Aeri raised an eyebrow, leaning against the counter as she took a sip of her coffee. “Not since last night. Why?”
Jimin exhaled sharply, her jaw clenching. “Because she’s always gone. She has responsibilities like the rest of us and It’s like she doesn’t care.”
Aeri sighed, setting her glass down. “You’re still stuck on that? Jimin, this isn’t new. She’s been like this since we debuted.”
“Exactly,” Jimin snapped, standing and tossing the blanket aside. “We’ve been dealing with this for years, and it’s been getting worse since the last 7 months. She comes and goes at all hours, and if people start noticing—”
“People have already noticed,” Aeri interrupted, her tone even but firm. “The rumors have been around for a while now, but Minjeong knows how to handle herself and she still makes it on time to practice or events.”
Jimin scoffed, pacing the small space. “Does she Aeri? Now what happens when someone gets a picture of her sneaking out of another female idol’s dorm? Or worse, when people figure out the rumors are true? That doesn’t just ruin her—it ruins all of us.”
Aeri’s expression softened slightly, but there was still a flicker of impatience in her eyes. “She’s not stupid, Jimin. Minjeong knows the line. She’s been walking it since day one.”
“And that’s the problem,” Jimin shot back, her voice rising slightly. “She doesn’t care. She’s always so… detached. I thought she changed, like a year ago she was working hard and present and then it’s like none of this matters to her anymore.”
The sound of another door opening cut their conversation short. Yizhuo shuffled out of her room, her oversized hoodie swallowing her small frame as she blinked sleepily at the two of them.
“Why are you two arguing so early?” she mumbled, rubbing her eyes.
“We’re not arguing,” Aeri replied quickly, shooting Jimin a look. “Just talking.”
Yizhuo didn’t look convinced. She plopped onto the couch, pulling a throw pillow into her lap as she watched them both. “Is this about Minjeong again?”
Jimin sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose. “It’s not just about her. It’s about us. About how we’re supposed to function as a group when one of us doesn’t even care.”
“Minjeong cares,” Yizhuo said softly, surprising both of them. “She just… doesn’t show it the way you want her to.”
Jimin shook her head, frustration bubbling over. “You’re defending her?”
“No,” Yizhuo said quickly, her tone light but serious. “I’m saying you’re wasting your energy trying to fix her. Minjeong’s been like this forever. She’s not going to change just because you want her to.”
“And you’re okay with that?” Jimin asked, her voice sharp.
Yizhuo shrugged. “I didn’t say I was okay with it. I just learned to live with it. Maybe you should too.”
“I can’t just live with it when the way she’s been acting toward me and her responsibilities as an idol, shifted so drastically in a day. She was so caring and hard working-“ Jimin uttered, deep in her thoughts.
“Maybe to you, she’s been like this towards Aeri and I since pre-debut.” Yizhuo responded.
Jimin opened her mouth to counter, but the sound of the front door opening froze her in place. All three of them turned toward the doorway as Minjeong stepped in, her hair slightly messy, her face blank. She didn’t acknowledge them, didn’t say a word. She kicked off her sneakers and walked past them, heading straight for her room without so much as a glance.
The silence in the living room was deafening.
Jimin’s hands curled into fists at her sides. She wanted to say something, wanted to demand an explanation, but she knew it would lead nowhere. Minjeong would brush her off, like always. She’d smirk, make some cutting comment, and leave Jimin feeling more frustrated than before.
Aeri placed a hand on Jimin’s arm, her voice low. “Let it go.”
But Jimin couldn’t let it go. Not this time. The weight of the past years—the shifting in behavior—the arguments, the tension, the rumors—it was all pressing down on her. And Minjeong, with her detached smirk and indifferent attitude, was at the center of it all.
Yizhuo’s voice broke the silence. “We have practice in an hour. You should cool off before then.”
Jimin didn’t respond. She simply stared at Minjeong’s closed door, her chest tight with a mix of anger and something she refused to name.
-
The thump of bass echoed through the practice room, reverberating off the mirrored walls. The girls stood in formation, waiting for the cue to begin. Jimin’s hands rested on her hips, her gaze fixed on her reflection, though her thoughts were anywhere but present. She felt the weight of the morning still hanging heavy in her chest.
“Alright, let’s take it from the top!” their choreographer, Sunmi, called out, clapping her hands sharply.
The music started, and their bodies moved instinctively, each step and arm movement hitting the beat perfectly—except for Jimin. She stumbled slightly, just a fraction of a second off, but enough for the sharp-eyed Sunmi to notice.
“Jimin, focus!” Sunmi barked. “You’re late on the second eight-count.”
“Sorry,” Jimin muttered, her cheeks flushing as she reset herself. But her eyes flicked to Minjeong in the mirror, and she felt her frustration spike again.
Minjeong, was flawless. Her movements were precise but fluid, her gaze focused, her face calm and serene. She didn’t look like she was trying—she made the choreography seem effortless.
Jimin clenched her jaw, willing herself to stop looking.
“Let’s go again,” Sunmi said, restarting the music.
The group launched into the choreography once more. Jimin forced herself to concentrate, but her timing still lagged. She felt like she was moving underwater.
By the time they finished the run-through, sweat clung to their foreheads, and their breathing came in short bursts. Minjeong wiped her face with a towel, her expression relaxed as if she hadn’t just spent an hour perfecting intense choreography.
“You okay, unnie?” Aeri asked, handing Jimin a water bottle.
“Yeah,” Jimin said quickly, unscrewing the cap and taking a long sip. Her eyes flicked to Minjeong, who was leaning against the wall, scrolling through her phone. Calm. Unbothered. Jimin hated it.
-
The girls arrived at the interview studio an hour later, their makeup fresh and their outfits coordinated. As they waited in the green room, tension simmered just beneath the surface.
“Don’t mess this up,” Jimin muttered under her breath as Minjeong passed her, her tone sharp.
Minjeong stopped, her head tilting slightly as she glanced at Jimin. “Mess what up?”
“The interview. You know, the part where we pretend everything’s fine.”
Minjeong smirked faintly, her voice low. “Don’t worry Unnie, I’m good at pretending I like you.” She winked.
Jimin opened her mouth to snap back, but Aeri stepped between them, holding up her hands. “Alright, stop. Can we just get through this without tearing each other apart? Please?”
Yizhuo groaned, rubbing her temples. “Yeah, seriously. It’s like babysitting at this point.”
Minjeong shrugged, turning away without another word. Jimin clenched her fists, willing herself to stay calm as they were ushered onto the set.
The lights were bright and warm, the set designed to feel cozy yet professional. The girls sat in a row on a sleek white couch, their manager seated just off-camera. The interviewer greeted them with a wide smile, her energy bubbly as she introduced the segment.
“So, aespa is here with us today! Thank you so much for coming.”
“Thank you for having us!” the girls chorused, their voices perfectly in sync.
The questions started light—about their comeback, their favorite moments from their recent tour, and what fans could look forward to. Minjeong answered sparingly, her words measured and thoughtful, while Yizhuo and Aeri filled most of the airtime with their natural chatter. Jimin chimed in where necessary, her smile practiced but strained.
Then came the inevitable question.
“You’ve been a group for years now,” the interviewer began, her tone warm and curious. “What’s it like working so closely together? I imagine you must feel like a family by now.”
Aeri smiled brightly, leaning forward slightly. “Absolutely. We’ve been through so much together, and it’s only made us stronger. We’re like sisters, honestly.“
Jimin nodded, her smile tight as she fought to keep her emotions in check. “We all bring something unique to the group, and I think that’s what makes us work so well together.”
Minjeong, ever the enigma, nodded along with a small smile. “It’s true. We’re lucky to have each other.”
The words were perfectly delivered, and the interviewer beamed. “That’s so lovely to hear. Your bond really shines through on stage.”
When the interview wrapped, and the cameras stopped rolling, the girls filed back into the green room. Aeri and Yizhuo immediately started chatting with the staff, their laughter filling the space. Jimin stayed near the door, her arms crossed as she watched Minjeong grab her bag.
“That was cute,” Jimin said, her tone laced with sarcasm. “You almost sounded sincere.”
Minjeong’s gaze flicked to her, cold and unwavering. “I wasn’t talking about you.”
Jimin stiffened. “Right. Just the others, huh?”
“Exactly.” Minjeong’s lips curled faintly as she stepped past her. “At least they don’t annoy me.”
Jimin opened her mouth to retort, but Minjeong was already walking away, leaving her standing there, the sting of her words cutting deeper than she wanted to admit.
-
The dorm was shrouded in an uneasy stillness, the kind that pressed against Jimin’s temples as she shuffled into the kitchen. Her head throbbed, the remnants of sleep still clinging to her, and she reached for the cabinet with heavy hands. A glass of water, a couple of pills—that was all she needed.
The quiet wasn’t unusual, but it felt fragile tonight. Too fragile. Her thoughts slowed as she heard it: a soft laugh drifting from down the hall.
Jimin paused, lowering the glass. The voice was unmistakable—Minjeong’s—but she wasn’t alone. Another voice followed, teasing and low.
With a frown, Jimin stepped lightly down the hall, the pill bottle still in her hand. She stopped just shy of Minjeong’s door, her pulse quickening. The door was cracked open just enough to let their words slip through.
“You really like playing with people, huh?” Ryujin’s voice was playful, tinged with challenge. “Is this a regular thing for you?”
“Only with the ones who don’t mind,” Minjeong replied smoothly, her tone lazy, like this was all a game to her.
Ryujin snorted. “Oh, so I’m supposed to feel special now?”
Minjeong let out a soft laugh, a sound that felt more like a scoff. “Special? I wouldn’t go that far.”
Jimin’s fingers tightened around the pill bottle. She wasn’t sure what she was more bothered by—the fact that Minjeong had brought Ryujin into their dorm without a second thought, or the way she spoke so carelessly.
Inside, Ryujin’s voice softened, curiosity replacing the teasing edge. “Then what am I, exactly?”
There was a pause, just long enough for the tension to grow thick in the air. Jimin could almost see Minjeong’s smirk.
“You’re a distraction,” Minjeong said finally, her tone light and detached. “A good one, sure. But that’s all.”
Ryujin didn’t respond immediately, and Jimin thought for a moment that she might leave. Instead, Ryujin laughed, low and sharp. “You’re blunt, I’ll give you that.”
“You’d prefer I lie to you?” Minjeong asked, her voice dipping into something colder. “Make you feel like this is more than what it is?”
Jimin’s breath hitched, her chest tightening. She knew she shouldn’t be listening, but the words rooted her in place.
Ryujin hummed thoughtfully. “Alright, then. If I’m just a distraction, who is it you’d rather be with right now?”
Minjeong’s answer came quicker than Jimin expected. “Someone I shouldn’t want.”
Ryujin let out a low whistle. “That bad, huh?”
Minjeong’s voice softened, almost teasing. “Not bad. Just impossible.”
The weight of those words hung in the air, settling heavily in Jimin’s chest. She didn’t understand it. All she could focus on was the flippant way Minjeong spoke, as if none of this mattered.
Ryujin’s tone turned wry. “Well, I hope they’re worth all this longing you’ve got going on. In the meantime…”
“In the meantime, you’ll do,” Minjeong cut in, a faint edge creeping into her voice. “If you’re still up for it.”
Ryujin’s laugh was softer this time, her footsteps moving closer. “You’re unbelievable.”
“So I’ve been told,” Minjeong replied, her words accompanied by the sound of the bed creaking slightly.
That was enough. Jimin stepped back, the pill bottle still clutched tightly in her hand. She forced herself to retreat to her room, every step heavy with a mix of discomfort and frustration.
How could Minjeong treat people like that? How could she be so careless, so cold? And how could she bring this into their dorm without a single thought for anyone else?
Jimin shut her door quietly behind her, leaning against it as her mind raced. She didn’t want to think about Minjeong any more than she already had to.
-
The MAMA Awards ceremony was in full swing, but inside the concert hall, the atmosphere felt tense. The members of aespa sat in their row—Giselle and Yizhuo chatting quietly on one side while Jimin and Minjeong sat next to each other. Despite the festive setting, Jimin couldn’t help but feel a knot form in her stomach as Minjeong casually glanced over her shoulder at the girl sitting behind them.
Minjeong smiled at the girl, her body turning just slightly to make the conversation more noticeable. The girl’s response was immediate—giggling and leaning in closer.
Jimin’s eyes flickered toward them, her brows furrowing as the seconds ticked by. Her fingers tightened around the edge of her seat, a hint of irritation crawling up her spine.
She leaned over and whispered sharply, “Focus.”
Minjeong didn’t even flinch. “I am very focused.” she said, while her gaze didn’t leave the girl sitting behind them.
“God, don’t make it so obvious,” Jimin added, her voice low but firm.
Minjeong looked at Jimin for a second and smile remained, unfazed. “I’m just being friendly.”
Jimin exhaled slowly, trying to keep her cool. “Not here. Not now.”
Aeri glanced over, rolling her eyes. “Here we go again…”
Jimin muttered. “I just don’t get why she’s acting like that right now.”
Yizhuo shook her head, her tone trying to ease the tension. “Jimin, there’s no point in making a scene right now.”
“I’m not making a scene,” Jimin retorted, her jaw tightening as she faced forward again.
The next few moments felt like an eternity as Minjeong continued her banter, barely paying attention to the ceremony unfolding in front of them. Jimin’s irritation simmered. When their category was announced, she glanced over at Minjeong again, seeing the way she was still fully engaged in her silent conversation behind them, not even acknowledging the recognition.
Jimin’s eyes narrowed. “You’re not even listening,” she muttered under her breath.
Minjeong turned her head slightly, catching Jimin’s gaze with a knowing, unbothered smile. “You’re acting like you care.”
Jimin was taken aback for a second, but she quickly composed herself. “I do care. This is important.”
Minjeong didn’t respond, her attention back on the girl behind them.
Once the event wrapped up and the crowd filed out of the hall, Jimin felt a strange tension building in her chest. She watched Minjeong slip away from the group, headed straight for the girl from earlier.
She was hardly surprised when she saw the exchange. Minjeong leaned in, her usual easy smile in place as she took the girl’s phone and entered her number. Jimin’s stomach turned slightly as she watched.
Yizhuo, walking up behind her, noticed Jimin’s tight expression. “Just let her, Jimin.” she murmured, her voice unbothered.
“She does this all the time,” Jimin replied, her voice controlled but sharp.
Yizhuo raised an eyebrow but didn’t push further, allowing Jimin to watch as Minjeong finished the exchange and slid her phone back into her pocket.
Minjeong didn’t spare Jimin a glance as she rejoined the group, a calm expression on her face. But Jimin couldn’t shake the feeling that something had shifted. Minjeong’s nonchalance only added fuel to her growing frustration.
Jimin glanced at Yizhuo, who simply shrugged as if to say, What can you do?
The tension was evident, but no one said anything as they walked together. Jimin trailed behind the other three girls, her mind clearly elsewhere, keeping a distance as she remained lost in her thoughts.”
-
The dorm had fallen into an uneasy rhythm over the past few weeks. It wasn’t just Ryujin. Every other night, it seemed, Minjeong was sneaking multiple different girls into the dorm. Sometimes Jimin only realized in the morning when she passed yet another stranger in the hall, exchanging awkward nods as the girl slipped out the door. Other times, like tonight, she heard it all. The low hum of voices, the teasing laughter, and Minjeong’s unrelenting bluntness.
Jimin sat in the living room that night, her Bible open on her lap. She couldn’t focus on reading, though. Her focus was pulled to the soft murmur of voices from down the hall. She could hear Minjeong’s distinct tone—smooth, almost taunting—and another voice she couldn’t place.
Her chest tightened as she strained to listen.
“Does this happen a lot?” the other voice asked, amusement evident in her tone.
“More than you’d expect,” Minjeong replied easily. “Let’s just say I don’t like to sit with my thoughts for too long.”
The other girl laughed softly. “That’s one way to deal with it. But you really don’t care about people talking?”
Minjeong’s voice dropped, quieter now, but no less cutting. “Why should I? It’s not like this means anything. Not to me.”
The words landed hard on Jimin, even though they weren’t meant for her. Her jaw clenched as she tried to shake off the creeping unease.
“What do you mean, ‘doesn’t mean anything’?” the other voice asked after a beat.
There was a pause before Minjeong answered, her voice colder this time. “Exactly what it sounds like. You’re here, we have fun, you leave. That’s it.”
The girl’s laughter turned hollow. “Wow. Brutal, aren’t you?”
“I’m just honest,” Minjeong said matter-of-factly. “If you’re looking for something else, you’re in the wrong place.”
-
The next morning, Jimin was up early, her routine steady and deliberate. She was at the kitchen table when Minjeong strolled in, her hair slightly tousled and an empty mug in her hand. She didn’t say a word as she reached for the coffee pot.
Jimin let the silence linger for a moment before speaking, her tone sharper than she intended. “You know, this isn’t some hotel where you can just bring people in and out whenever you feel like it.”
Minjeong froze for a beat before turning, her expression unreadable. “Good morning to you, too, Jimin.”
“I’m serious, Minjeong,” Jimin pressed, standing. “You think this is normal? Bringing strangers into our dorm? It’s disrespectful.”
Minjeong raised an eyebrow, leaning back against the counter. “Disrespectful to who? You? I didn’t realize I needed your approval.”
Jimin felt her composure slipping. “You don’t even care how this looks, do you? Do you know what would happen if the media finds out about all the girls you bring here every other night to hook up with? What if one of the girls start talking? Do you realize how bad this would be for us? For aespa?”
Minjeong shrugged nonchalantly, her tone steady but dismissive. “These girls are idols too. If they start talking, they’ll not only destroy our careers, but their own as well. No one’s going to say a word.”
“That’s not the only point!” Jimin snapped.
“You’re also treating them like they’re disposable. It’s—it’s gross.”
Minjeong’s expression darkened, a flicker of something sharp in her eyes. “You don’t know anything about it.”
“Then explain it to me,” Jimin shot back, her voice rising. “Why do you keep doing this? Is it some kind of game to you?”
Minjeong stared at her for a moment, the tension between them crackling like static electricity. Then, she smirked—cold, detached, and completely unbothered. “You wouldn’t understand.”
“Then explain it to me,” Jimin said, her voice quieter now but no less intense.
Minjeong leaned in slightly, her tone dropping. “It’s simple, Jimin. I don’t like feeling anything. And people like Ryujin? They’re perfect for that. No strings, no mess. Just…distraction.”
Jimin’s stomach twisted at the casual cruelty of the words. “That’s not healthy, Minjeong. You can’t just use people like that.”
Minjeong’s gaze didn’t waver. “Maybe not. But it works for me.”
Jimin wanted to say more, but the weight of Minjeong’s indifference left her speechless. She watched as Minjeong grabbed her coffee and left the kitchen without another word, her presence lingering like a stormcloud
-
Jimin hesitated in the hallway, her hand gripping the edge of the wall as she heard voices coming from Yizhuo’s room that same afternoon. She had meant to head to the kitchen for water, but the familiar tone of Minjeong’s voice stopped her in her tracks.
“I don’t get why you care so much,” Minjeong muttered, her voice muffled but sharp.
“Because you’re being stupid, that’s why,” Yizhuo snapped back.
Jimin froze, leaning closer without thinking.
“Look, if you’re going to start lecturing me, save it,” Minjeong said, her tone colder now.
“I wouldn’t have to lecture you if you’d stop acting like a complete idiot,” Yizhuo shot back, unrelenting. “You’re pushing her away for no reason, and you know it.”
“I’m not—” Minjeong began, but Yizhuo cut her off.
“Don’t even try to deny it,” she said, her voice dropping slightly. “You’ve been acting like this ever since you realized you liked her. What, half a year ago now? Maybe more?”
Minjeong scoffed, but there was no real bite to it. “It’s not like it matters.”
“Of course it matters,” Yizhuo snapped. “It matters to her.”
Jimin’s heart thudded painfully in her chest.
“She’s fine,” Minjeong said quickly, but there was an edge to her voice. “She doesn’t even like me. And she never will, if she—” She hesitated, then exhaled shakily. “You know what she’d think if she found out. She’d hate me.”
“She wouldn’t hate you,” Yizhuo said firmly.
“She would,” Minjeong insisted. “You know how she is. She’s—she’s religious, Yizhuo. Catholic. Whatever. You think she’d be okay with this?”
“That’s not your call to make,” Yizhuo said flatly. “But instead of finding out, you’re making her hate you for something else entirely.”
Minjeong’s laugh was bitter, almost self-loathing. “At least this way I get to control it.”
Yizhuo groaned, clearly frustrated. “Do you even hear yourself right now? You’ve spent months being cold, mean, distant—and for what? To protect yourself? Newsflash, Minjeong: It’s eating her up. She doesn’t understand why you’re treating her like this.”
Minjeong’s jaw tightened. “I’m not treating her any kind of way.”
“You used to be close,” Yizhuo pressed, her voice softer now but no less pointed. “I mean, close-close. Remember? Always together, always holding hands, always laughing. She probably thought you were her best friend.”
Minjeong’s hands balled into fists. “Don’t.”
“And then, suddenly, you stopped. You iced her out without any explanation, and now you treat her like she doesn’t exist half the time—or like you can’t stand her the other half. You really think she’s not hurting over it?”
Minjeong didn’t respond.
“Fine,” Yizhuo continued. “Keep pretending. Keep hooking up with random girls and telling yourself it doesn’t matter. But don’t act surprised when you’re the one left miserable at the end of it.”
Minjeong’s voice cracked as she replied, “I don’t know what else to do.”
“Stop running,” Yizhuo said simply.
Minjeong sat in silence, her head bowed, while Jimin backed away from the door, her heart pounding with the weight of what she had just heard.
-
-—
to be continued…
(jk I already uploaded the second chapter as well)