Minjeong wasn't one to believe in fate. She did, however, believe in chances.

And bumping into this Jimin girl again was pure chance.

Yep. Pure chance.

"Hi," Jimin said.

"Hey," said Minjeong.

It was surprising for a rich kid to be at a library, much less a dingy bookstore on a weekend, and in her 'beret matching fur coat' rich kid attire nonetheless. Jimin continued to surpass Minjeong's expectations – for the worse or for the better, Minjeong wasn't quite sure, but she definitely wanted to find out.

Jimin looked angry, her face all scrunched up, but the pout appeared more cute than menacing and her fluffy cheeks puffed. It was a failed attempt that took every muscle within Minjeong to stop herself from laughing as that might entice her grumpiness further. It was a habit she couldn't help – laughing at inappropriate situations.

"Thanks to you, my whole book bag got wet and I had to redo all my classwork," the girl huffed with nostrils flared, her arms crossed haughtily.

"Ah." Minjeong scratched her head meekly as she reminisced about the rainy day. Truth be told, there wasn't a day that it left her mind. "Mine too, but it's okay because we made it out alive, right?" Minjeong chuckled nervously in hopes it would ease the tension, but it ceased when Jimin looked like she was going to snap back with something mean. Instead, she glanced at the things in Minjeong's hands.

"What's that?" she asked with a nudge of her chin, as if feigning disinterest even though she asked first. Still playing the pompous persona, it seemed. Minjeong was amused to say the least.

"I'm buying these." Minjeong showed off the items in each of her hands: a sleek, leather journal and a black and gold fountain pen.

"Oh. Why?"

"I like to write."

"Oh."

"Why are you here?"

Jimin's poised demeanor faltered a bit, like she wasn't sure of why she was here either. She glanced left and right briskly and made a grab for a random book on a shelf to her right.

"I read."

"Really?"

"Yes."

"You're into erotic novels?"

Jimin's confident face shifted to an aghast expression with one look at the lewd cover. She hastily shoved it back into the shelf, her face scarlet red. It was then that Minjeong couldn't hold her laugh in anymore, and threw her head back to let it tumble all out.

"I was browsing," Jimin deadpanned, eyes darting and hand rubbing the nape of her neck.

Minjeong wiped away some tears from the corners of her eyes. "I'll recommend you one. It's one of my favorites."

Minjeong gestured for Jimin to follow her down the aisle. She stopped, a little too abruptly, and Jimin crashed into her back. Of course, the girl played it off just as quick with a brisk clear of the throat.

"Here." Minjeong held out the book toward Jimin.

"The Price of Salt?"

"It's hard to get this book anywhere else. It's a bit mature, though." Minjeong rubbed her neck nervously when Jimin's eyes wandered the cover portraying exactly what she was nervous about: two women. Surprisingly, her expression contorted more curiosity than disgust, much to Minjeong's relief. "You can't really show that to your parents. You're mature enough, right? Like a freshman?"

Jimin gasped, her jaw dropped dramatically in offence. "I'm a sophomore, mind you," she scoffed.

Minjeong snorted, "You? Can't be. You're so... young."

"Well, I am." Jimin puffed her chest. It didn't, only succeeding in enticing another laugh from Minjeong.

"You have fun looking around," said Minjeong. "I'll be going."

It was at the front counter that Minjeong realized Jimin was still on her tail. When Minjeong peered over her shoulder, she caught Jimin's gaze before the latter swiveled her head to look around disinterestedly.

"You follow well," commented Minjeong.

"I'm not following you," Jimin defended. "I'm done here too."

Once the store clerk bagged Minjeong's purchase, she turned toward Jimin and patted her head, a pouted frown forming on her pretty face.

"It's okay to be clingy, Jiminie." Minjeong said in a feigned reassuring manner and a teasing smirk. "Maybe I'll call you that. Jiminie."

Minjeong sauntered out the store before Jimin could utter a retort. She hugged her bag against her palpitating chest with elation that wasn't only for her new journal anymore.

—

It's been a few days since the party, and no matter how hard Minjeong tried to push Jimin out of her mind, she crept right back in – her mind a moth to her flame. That being said, it burnt terribly – it burnt like hell, but she couldn't help it. It was easy to think about her.

Everything had a small touch of her, even her fountain pen and journal. She should've thrown them out a long time ago, but there were so many words – so many memories – etched in these pages that it was hard to part with them. Sometimes she would catch herself lingering on the first few pages that washed her with sweet bitterness. Although it was seven years old, there were plenty of pages left — she made sure of that — as they were preserved for special words and special thoughts.

At least her acting skills had gotten better. Aeri had yet to sniff out something amiss with that keen nose of hers. As much as Minjeong appreciated the japanese girl's concern, some battles had to be dealt with alone, or so she thought.

Minjeong sat with one leg crossed over the other in her undesignated designated table in Aeri's café, stirring her coffee clockwise lazily and tapping the butt of her fountain pen on the same blank page. The warm hues of the afternoon sun basked the shop in a cozy glow.

She watched Aeri – a green apron over her white shirt and loose jeans, and hair tied up in a bun – serve some coffee and biscuits to an elderly couple seated near the door. They seemed to be complimenting her based on her bashful smile, rosy cheeks, and the flustered giggles and fretful waves of her hands. Once they were settled, Aeri came to sit across from Minjeong.

"Your customers love you," Minjeong commented.

Aeri choked and dismissed it with a wave of her hand. "They're just being nice. All they said was that I had a nice smile."

It was funny how Aeri hadn't realized how beautiful she was, despite the many instances that people complimented and expressed blatant attraction toward her. One time, a delivery boy had tried to make a move on her, but her obliviousness led her to think it was nothing but extreme kindness. Minjeong had a good laugh once she retold the story. She wasn't interested in that boy anyway, Minjeong learned.

The store bell jingled. Aeri peeked over Minjeong's shoulder, jaw dropped and pupils dilated. Wondering what could emit such a profound reaction, Minjeong craned her neck to see who had entered.

Poised at the doorway in all her supermodel energy was Ning Yizhuo; dressed in a white tucked t-shirt, black skinny jeans that excellently hugged her legs, heels, and a purse hung from the pit of her elbow. She lowered her sunglasses to the tip of her nose, wandering eyes finding Minjeong's.

"Minjeong!" Yizhuo exclaimed and strutted over to their booth. "So this is Gisellend Café?" She looked around and did a low whistle in an impressed manner.

Minjeong glanced over at Aeri whose eyes still bulged and lips gaped like a fish. She stiffened a giggle.

"This is the owner," Minjeong said, hand gestured toward the blonde.

Yizhuo's face brightened, her wide grin widening tenfold, and she cheerfully held her hand out. "Nice to meet you! I'm Ning Yizhuo."

Aeri took a moment to register that Yizhuo wanted to shake her hand before doing so, but with a bit too much force. The woman's poor arm wiggled like a noodle. "I'm sorry!" she rambled, her face red and hands fretfully waving around. "I'm Uchinaga Aeri. I'm the owner of Gisellend Café. I'm just shocked that someone as beautiful as you would come by."

Yizhuo raised her eyebrows at the girl's rambling, lips pursed as to stifle a burst of laughter in courtesy of her blatant embarrassment. She winked at the compliment. "You're too kind. Minjeong recommended me to this place for my next photoshoot." She twirled on her spot and placed her hands on her hips. "I'd say, this is a cute shop. Cute shop, cute owner."

The bell jingled again and a man stumbled inside with a duffel bag and tripod stuffed underneath his armpits. His black hair was swept to the side and he had yellow shades on that looked as expensive and chic as Yizhuo's.

"Over here, Jun," Yizhuo whistled over with a flagging hand.

He lugged the stuff over to their booth – almost knocking over a chair along the way – and set them down on the ground with a great huff.

"This is Jun," Yizhuo chirped, propping her hand on his heaving shoulder. "He's my manager and my photographer and my partner in crime."

Jun curtly bowed to them. From the way he dressed, Minjeong would've mistaken him for a model. The pair had good fashion sense.

"Jun, this is Minjeong and Aeri." She pointed respectively. "Minjeong is the writer that I was telling you about and Aeri is the owner of this beautiful café."

Aeri hung her head down bashfully. Minjeong held her hand out to Jun to shake.

Yizhuo turned to Aeri. "I was wondering if I can do a photoshoot here, if that's okay with you. It can also help with publicity," she added.

Aeri nodded eagerly – so eagerly she was practically a bobblehead. "Of course! Make yourself comfortable."

Yizhuo smiled in thanks and signaled Jun to follow her to a windowsill with hanging plant boxes. Minjeong locked eyes with Aeri, still very much bulged and twinkling. She looked like she was about to explode.

"You didn't tell me that the Ning Yizhuo was coming to my shop," Aeri squealed. "The top supermodel!"

Minjeong laughed, "It slipped my mind. I forgot I mentioned it to her during the party."

Aeri gasped, eyebrows shooting up as she jumped on her feet. "Do you think she wanted a coffee? Oh my–"

Minjeong chuckled as the girl bolted to the kitchen to prepare a coffee for the model who was posing for the camera that clicked away. Yizhuo's skills were quite impressive; she was doing two poses per second.

A vibration from her coat pocket snapped her out of her observance. She fished out her pager and read the message:

Come over as soon as possible! BIG JOB OFFER – SR

—

Minjeong preferred to work on her own accord. That was why she chose to be a freelance writer. However, it didn't hurt to have an unofficial manager to notify her about job offers, and Shin Ryujin was the perfect person.

They met in college, like how Minjeong met Aeri, but a whole lot weirder. Long story short, it involved strawberry jam, running late to morning classes, and a long flight of stairs. They clicked naturally; Ryujin wanted to be a publishing manager and Minjeong wanted to be a writer. One thing led to the next and they became partners.

( "I think we're fated to be together," Ryujin joked.

"Must be," Minjeong said. "Fate would be the only reason why I put up with your ass."

"I bet you like my ass."

"Shut up." )

Minjeong arrived at Ryujin's office – a building that resided on the busier streets of Gangnam. The elevator took her to the fifth floor and she knocked on the wooden door, the plaque beside it containing the name Shin Ryujin.

"Come in."

One step into the office and she was met by a ball of crumpled paper in the face. Sat on her neat desk directly aligned in front of the door was Ryujin with a playful smirk and feet propped up.

Minjeong huffed and bent down to pick up the paper and throw it in the bin. "How mature of you."

Ryujin clapped and heaved her feet off the desk to sit appropriately as Minjeong took the seat across from her. "I just missed you so much, Minjeong. That was my love thrown at your pretty face."

Minjeong laughed off Ryujin's charm and fluttering eyelashes. "So what's the big job?"

"Straight to business I see." Ryujin pulled out a folder from the drawer and slid it across the desk. "SM Times wants you to write a biography about Yu Jimin."

Minjeong's heart dropped. "Say again?"

"Hard of hearing now?" Ryujin chuckled, leaning in and cupping her mouth. "SM TIMES WANTS–"

"You don't have to yell!" Minjeong covered her ears and raised a fist to feign a punch. "Jeez."

Ryujin laughed and clasped her hands. "Yes. SM Times wants you to be the writer of Yu Jimin's biography. Any job offer from SM Times is huge, and for this job, they're exclusively adding bigger bucks than usual. Isn't that crazy?"

Minjeong looked down at her clammy hands, clasped together so tight they shook. The job was too surreal. She cleared her throat as she forced a shaky answer through her lips, "No."

"What?"

"Are you hard of hearing too?" Minjeong chuckled meekly. "I won't do it."

Ryujin froze for a moment as she processed Minjeong's answer, then relaxed back on her chair with a taut expression. "Why not?" she asked carefully.

"I just don't want to."

"Really? And you call me immature?" Ryujin scratched her head. "Look, Minjeong. Sometimes in life, there are things you don't want to do, but it doesn't mean you shouldn't do them. If you keep thinking like that, then you'd just be running away from every problem that comes your way. Then, nothing will change and you will be stuck in the same frame."

"Ryujin," Minjeong said in a low tone. "This is a job offer and I can refuse it. That's in my contract, no?"

"Well – yes." Ryujin furrowed her eyebrows and flattened her palms on the wood. "But I'm just saying."

"Have you been taking philosophy classes lately? That was too deep for you to say."

Ryujin palmed her chest and gasped dramatically. "You think I'm incapable of thinking such thoughts on my own? You have no faith in me."

Minjeong narrowed her eyes, the corner of her lips tugging. "You just want the money, huh?"

Ryujin's other hand shot up to her chest and she fell back as if she took a bullet. "Ouch, Minjeong. I'm not that shallow. I'm doing this for you."

Minjeong sighed and looked out the window behind Ryujin that displayed an identical office building across the street, the rays of the sun reflected on black tinted windows. She could almost see her reflection from here. "Isn't she a bit young to write a biography about? She's, like, twenty-four."

"That's what I thought, too. But according to the folder, their purpose is to clean her image and reputation for when she inherits the company – to appeal to other business peoples and stuff. It makes sense I guess – because they have all the money in the world to do anything – since she's a bit..."

"A bit...?"

"You know, stuck up? Like she has a trunk up her ass?"

Minjeong opened her mouth to retort and defend the heir, but she thought better of it. Ryujin didn't know about her relationship with Jimin, and she'd like to keep it that way. The less people who knew, the better.

"I don't know." Minjeong sucked in through her teeth and fingered the corner of the folder. The mere thought of Jimin made her stomach twist a hundred knots. Imagine if she had to be around her? Her chest contracted, the thought was suffocating. "I don't think I'm the right person for this. You can give it to Yeji or some –"

"They specifically asked you. The CEO of SM Times asked for you, Kim Minjeong."

Minjeong stayed silent. The latter clicked her tongue and ran her hand through her brown hair.

"It'll be a huge breakthrough for you." Ryujin flashed a small smile and patted the folder. "Think about it."

"I'll think about it."

"You better."

—

Minjeong did lots of thinking, and it led her to the front of the Yus' mansion.

And by thinking, it was Aeri giving her an earful.

( "Are you crazy?" Aeri cried, her voice raised several octaves. Minjeong bet she could hit high notes. If she wasn't a coffee shop owner, then a singing career would suit her. "Don't take it." )

Aeri was the only other person who knew about Minjeong and Jimin. With a mix of alcohol and Aeri's 'you can tell me anything' hugs, it didn't take much for Minjeong to spill her feelings and tears in their dormitory after a college party. But the girl was good at keeping secrets, and Minjeong appreciated that.

( "Ryujin said it would be a quote on quote 'breakthrough'." Minjeong air quoted.

"Do you really care about that? I thought you wrote just to write, not to boost your career and become famous. You don't really care about that kind of stuff."

Aeri knew Minjeong inside out – a blessing and a curse. "Well, it would help. I could get more jobs, too, and help pay rent and stuff. I feel like I'm living off of you."

Who was she kidding? Not Aeri at least.

"You want to see her."

The apartment got silent, so silent that they could hear a pin drop. Minjeong dropped her gaze from Aeri's furious one – partially in defeat, partially in fear. The girl didn't get mad a lot, but when she did, Minjeong would rather face the Devil itself.

"I know you're not over her," Aeri continued with a leveled voice, taut expression softened. "I know how dear that journal is to you. You carry it around like it's oxygen. I want the best for you, and I know seeing her will hurt you again."

"I saw her at that business party a few Saturdays back," Minjeong said quietly. "We bumped into each other."

Aeri faltered, betrayal flashed in her eyes. Minjeong's heart clawed with guilt for going behind her back. Her reaction was exactly why Minjeong didn't want to tell her.

"I'm sorry," added Minjeong.

Aeri stayed silent for a moment, lips pursed and fingers twiddling. Minjeong gulped, now unsure of the latter's emotions and thoughts. The gulp seemed to echo in the silent room, along with the ticking clock.

"And how did you feel?" she asked finally, her softened voice easing the tension built up from before. Minjeong exhaled through her mouth.

"Not good," admitted Minjeong. "It hurt, but it felt good, too. I don't really know how to explain it, but it hurts to see her and it hurts to not. But I think seeing her is the lesser of two evils, you know? Even from afar is enough for me." She bit her lip. "It's not her fault. It's just her duty as the heir to follow through with the arranged marriage. It was bound to happen."

Aeri's eyes were full of pity that Minjeong had grown accustomed to. Aeri was naturally a compassionate person, but it didn't ease Minjeong's guilt any less.

"Okay."

Okay? Did she hear that right?

"Okay," Aeri said again with a bit more conviction and a small sigh. "Take the job. But if it gets too much for you, drop it immediately. Promise?"

Minjeong gave her a small smile and squeezed her hand.

"Promise." )

One of their many servants greeted Minjeong at the door. Stepping in, she marveled at the interior that looked as extravagant as the outside: high ceiling, marble pillars, smooth tiles, grand staircase, and exquisite rug to just name a few details. Houses of the rich never failed to amaze her – it wasn't everyday she could step into a house like this. They tried taking her coat after much insistence – Minjeong won with her reluctance – offered her a pair of slippers, and led her to the living room where the owners of the house sat poised like carved marble statues.

Minjeong bowed to them. Yu Yunho and Im Jinah, Jimin's parents bowed their heads in return with engineered smiles.

"Kim Minjeong," Yunho greeted her as she took the cushion across from them. "It's a pleasure to meet with you. We're grateful you made the time out of your busy schedule to come."

Frankly, Minjeong wasn't that busy, but she smiled and nodded nonetheless. "It's no problem."

"Would you like a drink?"

"I'm fine. Thank you."

This was the second time Minjeong met Jimin's parents, both times for professional reasons, of course. From the stories Jimin had told Minjeong — dubbing them 'parents from hell' — it was strange to see them act so kind. That was how rich folk play the game, all kind smiles and flattering words.

"We really admire your work," Yunho said. Jinah nodded along. "You're our favorite writer, so that's why we wanted you to write a biography for our daughter, like how you wrote Ning Yizhuo's."

Minjeong strained a smile. "I'm honored."

"It's a little tough to get her out of her shell, but she'll cooperate. This is for her future, after all."

"Of course."

"She must be in her room. Joohyun will show you to it."

Minjeong's heart spiked and her palms began to sweat as the young maid led her up the stairs. A huge portrait, probably the size of her, of the Yu family was displayed at the top of the staircase that split in two directions. All had serious faces, not a single drop of love in their poses and facials. Minjeong lingered on Jimin. She was smaller in the portrait, wearing a white dress, but the eyes and small round face stayed true. Her arm was draped on a younger boy's shoulder, stiff and cold.

"Over here, Miss Kim," Joohyun coaxed from the top of the left stairway.

"Coming," Minjeong said. She glanced at Jimin once more before following Joohyun up the stairs. I'm about to see her anyway.

The hallway had an intricately designed rug draped all the way down, a few mahogany stands with potted plants on top, lanterns hooked on the wall, and expensive paintings hung. Albeit all the fancy decoration, it felt empty. The whole house felt empty, and the decoration was a poor sham to cover such a feeling. Simply put, it didn't feel like a home.

"This is Miss Jimin's room," Joohyun said once they stopped at a door. She knocked on the door twice. "Miss Jimin, Miss Kim is here for your biography." She turned back to Jisoo. "Call me if you need anything." With that, Joohyun bowed and took her leave.

The door was white wood and the knob was golden brass. Minjeong's palm hovered over the knob, an ache in her chest seizing hesitation.

I've seen her once. I can see her again.

Does she want to see her?

It's not too late to back out, Minjeong. Run while you can. You don't have to do this to yourself.

Her hand was about to retract, but Ryujin's words echoed in her head.

"If you keep thinking like that, then you'd just be running away from every problem that comes your way. Then, nothing will change and you will be stuck in the same frame."

Minjeong cursed Ryujin under her breath. That woman, no matter how cheeky, was right. Sometimes.

Albeit her doubting thoughts, her body and senses said otherwise. Her heart pounded, her stomach flipped and knotted, her legs shook, and a gravitational pull made her hand latch onto the knob. It clicked with a twist.

Minjeong wanted to see Jimin.

She pushed the door open.

—

Jimin was in disbelief when her father spoke to her about a biography.

( "A biography? Father, I'm twenty-four. I have nothing interesting about me," scoffed Jimin.

"This is for your sake," he said sternly. "If you never had an attitude to begin with, then we wouldn't have to go to this extent to clean your image."

Jimin was unimpressed.

"All you have to do is say nice words. This is the least you can do, Jimin," her mother added.

Nothing Jimin had said ever went through her parents' ears. This was no exception, so she surrendered with a sigh.

"Make sure to cooperate," her father said. "This is for your future." )

Her future? Jimin had to laugh. When were her parents ever considerate about her future, what she wanted? The thought got her so riled up that she stormed to her room without asking who the writer was.

"Miss Jimin, Miss Kim is here for your biography." Jimin heard Joohyun announce outside her door.

Miss Kim? Jimin said nothing in response. It was a mutual communication established between her and Joohyun. She continued organizing the polaroids she took this morning in the garden in her scrapbook.

She heard the door open, but kept her back turned. The person seemed to be lingering at the door, as there were no signs of further footsteps or the door closing. Jimin waited for them to say something first. To her, speaking first was a nuisance.

A moment passed, and they had yet to say anything. not even a 'hello'. They're asking to get on my nerves. Jimin tapped her foot impatiently and almost swiveled around, but the voice that called out to her iced her veins, freezing her hand that held the last polaroid over the final spot on the page.

"Jimin."

It was stupidly dramatic – 'teenager in love' type of dramatic – the way Jimin slowly turned around with her breath unsteady. Her eyes casted on the house slippers, then inched up slacks and cream trench coat, to finally settle on the most ethereal face she had ever known. Minjeong was an angel from the heavens, her white beret a halo and coat wings.

But Minjeong was her writer.

Shit.

"Minjeong," Jimin said through a quaver, her hand gripped on the back of her chair in an attempt to steady its shaking. "You're my writer?"

"It seems so," Minjeong quipped. She shuffled into the room and shut the door behind her. Her eyes wandered around. "Nice room."

Minjeong probably said that out of courtesy. There wasn't much to Jimin's room; it was kept and designed to the bare minimum for the sole purpose of less attachment. The house was barely a home, and so was her bedroom. A bed, a desk, some fake plants, some lamps, and a rug. That was all she needed – nothing more, nothing less.

"Thanks," Jimin said curtly.

Minjeong rocked back and forth on the balls of her feet, her demeanor just as awkward as the air between them. Jimin closed her scrapbook and tucked it away in the drawer. She'll finish it later.

"You can take a seat on my bed," said Jimin.

Minjeong pondered the offer for a moment as she eyed the clean sheets, before settling on the foot of the bed. She primly crossed one leg over the other and reached into her satchel. "Let's get started, shall we?"

Why on earth are you here? Jimin wanted to ask as Minjeong fished out a journal and a pen. Why did you accept the job?

But Jimin recognized that journal – leather bound and eight thousand won – and that pen – sleek and five thousand won. Her questions lost their way to her lips, only replaced with the warm rays of the afternoon sun through the library window.

—

"You're terrible at drawing," Jimin snorted.

It was after school hours and they were in the local library 'studying'. In actuality, Jimin was the one studying and Minjeong was doodling all over her brand new journal. She looked very happy with it, always carrying it around with her fountain pen like a two in one shampoo.

"You mean I'm terrific." Minjeong stuck her tongue out that enticed another snort from Jimin.

"I can't even tell what you drew." Jimin squinted and angled her head at the page. She made out a vertical rectangle with some mushrooms on the top. "What's that supposed to be?"

"A giraffe!" Minjeong exasperated, horrified by Jimin's lack of understanding. "Look, this is the neck, and these are the ears."

"I thought those were mushrooms."

Minjeong pouted and stared intently at her unique giraffe.

"Be an artist later." Jimin patted her shoulder. "Study first. We have midterms coming soon."

"I don't care about grades like you do," Minjeong whined. "I'm so bored of studying."

"You only studied for half an hour."

Minjeong scratched her chin thoughtfully before picking up her pen again.

"I'll write. How about that?"

"I hope for something productive. Like your journalism club."

"Not everything is about school, Jiminie. Live a little outside of it."

Jimin frowned. Her parents had enforced the importance of school ever since she enrolled in preschool. For Minjeong to say such a thing, it was strange to say the least. But Minjeong was Minjeong – always nonchalant and carefree. Jimin envied her for that.

"Check it out." Minjeong inched the journal toward Jimin with a proud smirk.

It was embarrassing that the first thought that crossed Jimin's mind was that Minjeong's handwriting was attractive. Then, she read the writing, and her embarrassment increased tenfold:

Jimin loves Minjeong because she's so cool. Minjeong guesses Jimin is cool, too. They marry each other and run away to a cottage in the woods. They lived happily ever after. The end <3

"What are you saying?" Jimin baffled, shoving the journal away and slapping Minjeong's arm. "Don't write buffoonery."

Minjeong threw her head back and laughed – the type of laugh that never failed to flutter Jimin's heart. It cut through the silence of the library like butter, which prompted the librarian to shush them. They quickly bowed their heads apologetically.

"You don't love me?" Minjeong whispered, dipping her chin to stay quiet. 

Minjeong had this charm to her. Perhaps it was the brown eyes speckled with gold that Jimin could stare into forever, or the soft cheeks that she wanted to cup and run her thumbs over, or the rosy lips that looked enticing to feel and that were little too close to hers.

"You're my friend." Jimin's ears burned and she backed away to turn to her opened textbook. "I have to like you one way or another, or else I wouldn't be spending my day with you."

Minjeong pulled away and gave an impressed nod. "Fair enough."

The words of the textbook were incoherent, her focus bothered by the heat of her cheeks and pounding chest. She glanced over at Minjeong who continued to doodle in her journal, her small tongue stuck out in concentration.

Minjeong was ridiculous. Amazingly ridiculous.

—

"You still have that?" Jimin croaked.

Minjeong paused midway through uncapping her pen. She looked down at the journal on her lap and crooked a sad smile.

After all these years.

"First question," Minjeong said, pen poised on the page that looked three quarters into the journal. "When and where were you born?"

____

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