"How was it?" Aeri asked from the kitchen table once Minjeong stepped into the apartment.

"Alright," Minjeong shrugged off her satchel and heaved it on the kitchen island, sauntering over to get a glass of water. "We got the basic information down. I think we need to move on to more stimulus –"

"No." Aeri gently placed her spectacles down. "How was it? "

Minjeong's finger paused over the water tap, the grip on her cup tightening and shoulders rigid. She couldn't see it, but she could feel Aeri's prodding eyes burning through the back of her skull.

"It was okay," Minjeong uttered and proceeded to fill her glass cup, her finger pressed on the tap firmly to stifle the shaking. "A bit awkward at first, but she knew how to keep things professional. That's what she grew up with, after all." Minjeong flashed a small smile over her shoulder. "What are you up to?"

Aeri's gaze was steady on Minjeong, aware of the attempt to change the subject and lips worried with another question at the tip of her tongue. Minjeong ambly leaned against the counter and sipped her cup, almost challenging if the latter would prod further.

"Bills," Aeri finally replied, her curious gaze returning to her usual soft expression. "You know, adult stuff. Adulting."

"You work too hard, Aeri. You should take a day off. You're your own boss, so you should be able to do that."

"I do! On Sundays when I go to church."

"Not like that." Minjeong rolled her eyes. "Go on a picnic. Meet a friend. Go on a date. You know, typical young adult things."

Aeri stiffened and a rosy pink dusted her cheeks. Minjeong frowned at the sudden change of demeanor.

"What?" Minjeong narrowed her eyes.

"Nothing!" Aeri hawed and started rifling through the papers and bills aimlessly. "It's just that –"

Minjeong cocked an eyebrow at her frantic movements that became more frantic as heavy seconds ticked by. Aeri glanced at Minjeong briefly, and upon seeing that Minjeong was still staring at her, the latter pursed her lips, squeezed her eyes shut, clenched her fists, and took a deep breath.

"Yizhuoaskedmetogotothemovieswithherthisweekend."

Minjeong choked on her water, astounded by both the Japanese girl's rapping skills and what she had just said.

"Yizhuo asked what?" she coughed and pounded her chest.

"Yizhuoaskedmetogotothemovies–"

"Yizhuo asked you to go to the movies?"

Aeri nodded meekly with a tomato red face, hands stiff on the table.

"What are you doing? Go!" Minjeong squealed, scrambling over to cup Aeri's cheeks, a tad too tightly from the way her lips puckered like a fish. "That's totally a date!"

"A date...?"

Minjeong faltered and nervously chuckled at Aeri's stitched eyebrows. It slipped her mind that Aeri was from a conserved family. Although she was unprejudiced – being that she was accepting of Minjeong's sexuality – the subject seemed to still be touchy. "I'm just kidding, but you know what I mean. It's a new friend!"

"A new friend?" Aeri palmed her inflamed cheeks. "Then why am I feeling this way...?"

"Huh?"

"Nothing!" Aeri uttered and bolted up from her seat. "I'm going to shower."

Minjeong chuckled and sipped her water as Aeri scurried past to her bedroom. Odd girl. She set her cup down, fished out her journal, and flipped through the pages with today's notes that were all about Jimin – all special thoughts and special words. Everything about her was special; every fact, every detail, every word spoke from her lips. Melancholic fingers stroked down the length of the parchment, the words incoherent by her muse.

This journal began with Jimin, and it will end with Jimin.

—

"You missed three points."

Jimin flinched when her father slammed her exam scores down on the table in his uproar – a scene that she'd seen frequently, but hadn't failed to frighten her. He pulled on his tie and huffed, pacing around with hands on his hips.

"How could you be successful if you slack off like this?" He pointed a crooked finger. "What's gotten into you these days? You lost to that Youngjae boy. You dropped to second place!"

Jimin hung her head down. "I'm sorry, father."

"I've been easy on you. You think I don't know you've been running away from Mr. Jo? Let this happen once more and I'll make sure you don't see daylight ever again."

With one final huff, he stormed out the living room. Her mother continued to sip her tea cup from the couch, not a single glance casted at the scene that unfolded beside her. That made Jimin grit her teeth.

She swiveled and trudged up the stairs to her room. Opening the door, she found Joohyun by her desk – a feather duster in one hand and a book in the other.

"Don't touch that!" Jimin yelled and swiped the book away. "Don't touch things that aren't yours!"

Joohyun's eyes widened, startled by the sudden scold. She bowed thrice with a quiet 'sorry' , but before she could leave, Jimin stopped her by the arm.

"Don't tell my parents," Jimin whispered.

Joohyun gave a small nod, a flash of what seemed like understanding in her eyes before she briskly left. Jimin looked down at the book and swiped the cover.

'Not everything is about school, Jiminie. Live a little outside of it,' said those heart shaped lips.

Jimin scoffed, opened the drawer, and shoved the book inside with a slam. She threw herself on her bed and sighed into the sheets.

Who was Minjeong to say that? That girl didn't even know half of it.

—

"Jimin, you need to stop. You're drinking too much."

Jaehyun was trying to unwrap Jimin's fingers around her wine glass – as carefully as he could without spilling it – but they were practically glued on the handle.

"Stop babying me," Jimin slurred and frowned. "I can drink as much as I want."

"You're making a scene."

Indeed, she was. Jimin glanced around at the party guests stealing glances at the couple in their own sly way.

"Let them look," Jimin giggled. "This is another party for us, right? Aren't we the main stars of this party?"

"I'll take you to your room," Jaehyun muttered once he finally seized the glass and set it down on the table. The combination of the wine's intoxication and the conviction of Jaehyun pulling on her arm left her no choice but to lean onto him as he led her up the stairs.

"Jaehyun..." Jimin mumbled once they stumbled into her bedroom door. She pressed her body against him and rested her palm on his chest. "Fuck me."

"What?"

"Did I stutter? Fuck me, Jaehyun."

He stepped away and grasped Jimin's wrists to pull them down. "No. You're clearly not in your right mind."

"I'm stressed," Jimin whined and stomped her foot, flailing her wrists around like a child. "I just need a reliever, what's the problem?"

"No," Jaehyun repeated sternly. He led her to her bed and sat her down at the foot. "You need to rest. I want to be a good husband–"

"Then help me," Jimin exasperated and threw her hands up. "Good husbands help their wives. You're so useless."

Jaehyun stared at her blankly. "I'm getting Joohyun."

Before he could exit the room, Jimin jumped up and ran to shut the door. She grasped the collar of his neat suit and pulled him down toward her face.

"You're making this so hard," she breathed. "You're making it so hard to hate you when you're so nice. Why are you like this? Why can't you just be shitty like everyone else at this damn party?"

With a taut expression, Jaehyun sharply tugged her wrists off his collar. "I'll get Joohyun." He left without another word.

Jimin lingered at the door for a moment, a little dazed by the rejection, before dragging herself to her bed. She crawled into the clean sheets, curled into a ball, and bunched the sheets under her nose, breathing in the fresh detergent smell.

—

"Are you sure this is okay?" Jimin whispered as Minjeong unlocked the front door. "What if we get caught?"

"It's fine." Minjeong took her hand – an instinctive gesture that naturally formed between them, their hands like magnets – and led her into the house. "My uncle is out so much that we barely bump into each other or talk. Sometimes he doesn't even know I'm home."

"And your parents?"

Minjeong paused and strained a small smile. "They kicked me out a few years ago, but enough of that. Let's not worry about parents."

That got her curious, but Jimin decided to hum along instead of prodding. Minjeong was right – the last thing Jimin wanted to think about was parents. Her household was getting too suffocating and Minjeong was kind enough to offer Jimin to spend the night at her house. Albeit the consequences Jimin had to deal with later, Minjeong's company helped clear her head of all troubles at the moment. That was the Minjeong effect.

Minjeong's house was starkly different from Jimin's: a low roof, small rooms, a kitchen connected to the living room, a worn couch situated in front of a small television, dim lights, no potted plants, a bare wooden floor, and aged wallpaper. There was no family portrait in sight, or any portraits for that matter. Although the house seemed to have the bare minimum, it was comforting – more than her own house anyway.

The younger girl led her up the stairs that creaked and groaned beneath Jimin's feet. The hallway was small, and Minjeong entered the room sharply to the right.

"Welcome to my room," Minjeong announced upon flicking a lamp on with wide arms.

To Jimin's surprise, Minjeong's room was a lot livelier than the rest of the house. Although small, it was well kempt: beige walls with a hung clock, simple white curtains over a small window, a clean wooden desk with neatly stacked books and a small radio, a shelf above that held small trinkets and a white puppy doll, a closet in the corner, a made twin bed with white sheets, and a nightstand with a small lamp beside it. It was cosy – and Minjeong's scent might and might not be the reason why.

"Your bed is so small." Jimin eyed the bed as Minjeong unloaded her backpack at her desk. "How will we fit?"

"By cuddling, duh." Minjeong puckered her lips.

"C–cuddling?"

"That's the only way." Minjeong sauntered to the other side of her bed and sat down. "Or I'll sleep on the couch downstairs–"

"No!" Jimin uttered. "I'll sleep on the couch –"

Jimin faltered when Minjeong grabbed her hand. "I'm kidding. C'mere," she breathed with faint conviction of their entwined fingers.

Jimin timidly complied as Minjeong pulled and smoothened the sheets to make room for her to crawl on. Minjeong laid down and Jimin followed suit. Upon facing each other, Jimin couldn't help but edge closer until their knees and elbows bumped. Minjeong gingerly aided in the cumbersome space, tucking her arm under her head and draping the other on Jimin's waist to bring her in closer by the dimples of her back. The gap between them mingled with the smell of Minjeong's vanilla and the sheets' fresh detergent.

"Hey," Minjeong said.

"Hi," said Jimin.

"Are you okay?"

Jimin gulped. The sincerity in Minjeong's eyes were so genuine that it scared her, the way they almost collapsed Jimin's walls. The latter meant well, but Jimin couldn't bear bearing her burdens on her – it would be too much and it wasn't even her problem. 'I'm so tired, Minjeong.' Jimin wanted to say. 'Let's just stay like this forever. Just you and I.'

"Yeah," Jimin strained a small smile. "It's just the usual parents from hell."

Minjeong's warm palm traced along her petite figure from her waist to her cheek, thumb tenderly caressing along the bone. It swiped under her eyes and Jimin felt it smear the wetness of a silent tear.

Her eyes asked again, 'Are you okay?'

Jimin pursed her lips. The lump in her throat made it hard to speak and Minjeong acknowledged that. Her palm left Jimin's cheek, leaving it cold. She already missed it, her defeated spirit the only thing stopping her from reaching for Minjeong's palm and planting it back on her cheek.

"Let's play a little game," Minjeong said. "How about that?"

As Jimin sat up, Minjeong took the small lamp on her nightstand and placed it between them. Then, she pulled the sheets over their heads, so that it was just the lit lamp and them insulated from the world.

"This game is called uh–" Minjeong pondered with a scratch of her chin. "Shadows. You make things with your hands against the light. Look."

Minjeong demonstrated with a dog. Jimin giggled softly as Minjeong mimed the dog's voice.

"Don't cry, Jiminie," Minjeong's dog said in a muffled, goofy tone. "Everything will be okay. Keep your chin up."

"I don't know how to make anything with my hands," admitted Jimin.

"I'll show you." Minjeong took her hands and held them against the lamp. "You can make a bird like this," she explained as she laced her slender fingers behind Jimin's hands to guide them to create the corresponding shape.

Jimin laughed as Minjeong mimed caws and flapped the 'wings'. Minjeong smiled and Jimin found herself smiling right back – her smile was simply infectious. Jimin didn't want to interrupt the show, but an impulse prompted her to turn her palms to cup Minjeong's hands, breaking the shadow of the bird. Minjeong's smile faltered and her head tilted in wonder as Jimin brought the back of her hands to her cheeks and nuzzled against them, that familiar ember warming her cheeks once more.

Jimin was so tired – so, so tired – but Minjeong kept her going. Against a storm, Minjeong held her steady. Against the world, Minjeong was by her side. Against everything, Minjeong was again and again and again.

—

"Miss Jimin?"

The sunlight streaming through the curtains irritated her eyes, along with her pounding temple and dry throat. Jimin groaned and flung the sheets over her head in an attempt to nullify the brightness of morning. She could sense Joohyun at her bedside, patient as she always was.

"Miss Jimin, you need to wake up."

"I don't want to. I feel like shit."

"Miss Kim is here to continue on your biography."

Jimin's eyes shot open and she pulled down the sheets to meet Joohyun's blank face hovering over her.

"Minjeong?"

"Yes."

"Why didn't you say so? I'll get ready. Just leave."

Joohyun bowed and left. Jimin sighed and ran her fingers through her disheveled hair as her groggy eyes focused on her surroundings. There was a water cup and some pills on her nightstand. She gulped both down and rushed to her bathroom.

I look like absolute shit, Jimin groaned in the mirror. A brush through her hair confirmed many knots and upon closer examination, her eyes were swollen. Did she cry last night?

Let's calm down, Jimin. She exhaled slowly. Minjeong can wait. Take your time.

A sniff of her hair told her the first thing she had to do: take a shower.

—

By the entrance, Minjeong was rocking on the balls of her feet. There was a maid beside her that she stole a few glances at. The way the maid stood unsettlingly stoically – almost like a statue – sent shivers up her spine. Minjeong's head perked up upon spotting Joohyun walking down the stairs.

"Miss Jimin will come shortly," Joohyun said.

"Thanks." Minjeong smiled. Joohyun bowed and left, so tersely it left Minjeong a tad awkward.

Minjeong fished out her notepad from her coat pocket, a list of questions and locations scribbled on the front. Since they completed the basic questions from their first meeting, Minjeong planned to stimulate Jimin's mind by going outside for a small change of scenery from this bleak household.

Or perhaps it was an excuse to go out with her? Minjeong slapped herself. Of course not. This is a job. Keep it professional, Minjeong.

"Why are you hitting yourself?"

Startled, Minjeong flicked from her notepad up to Jimin right in front of her; arms crossed, dressed in a beige jacket over a white turtleneck, tan pants, black shades, and high tops. She didn't even notice the latter walk down the stairs.

"Uh – mosquito," Minjeong uttered.

Minjeong couldn't identify Jimin's expression well due to the shades, but she bet it was unimpressed. If only she took them off.

"Where are we going?" Jimin glanced at the notepad.

"Around the city." Minjeong pocketed the notepad and squared her shoulders. "Taking a walk helps clear and jog your mind. I think we can get a lot more work done outside than in here."

"A walk?"

"Yeah." Minjeong hesitated, sensing displeasure in Jimin's tone. "But if you want, we can take a taxi–"

"No." Jimin held her palm up and Minjeong's words faltered. "I'm fine with walking."

Minjeong was left speechless as Jimin sauntered past her through the doors. She smiled to herself – Jimin hadn't changed one bit.

"Don't just stand there, Minjeong," Jimin called from behind her. "We have work to do."

Minjeong heaved a deep breath before swiveling around to catch up to Jimin at the bottom of the stairs.

"Say Jimin, have you eaten yet?"

—

"You just wanted to eat tteokbokki, huh?" Jimin scoffed.

Minjeong looked up with big doe eyes, a rice cake halfway in her mouth. Jimin was glad she wore sunglasses today. It concealed her face efficiently to mask that she had been staring at Minjeong the entire time since they'd sat down.

The journalist gobbled up the rice cake and patted her mouth with a napkin. "Of course not." Her voice was muffled by the food in her mouth. " You're just not eating."

Don't talk while chewing, Jimin wanted to scold. Instead, she grabbed the untouched chopsticks on her plate, plucked a rice cake from the dish between them, and popped it in her mouth.

"Happy?" Jimin quipped with a cocked eyebrow.

The corner of Minjeong's lips tugged for a split second before she reached into her satchel to pull out her journal and pen. Jimin glanced at the journal, then wandered around the restaurant. It was small – a small business on the quieter streets of Gangnam – and Minjeong's favorite from high school. Still her favorite, it seems. 

"Let's start with some simple questions and we'll ease into bigger ones." Minjeong cleared her throat and poised the tip of the pen over the paper. "What do you do in your leisure time?"

"Photography."

Minjeong's writing faltered and she chuckled softly. "I see. That's a very good hobby. Very good, very good..."

From the corner of Jimin's eye as she faced the window that displayed a cloudy day, Minjeong was tapping the butt of her pen on the page in deep thought. For some reason, Jimin couldn't take her eyes off Minjeong, be it watching out the window or looking around the restaurant. They'd find their way back to the latter as if she'd disappear any second.

"What do you like about photography?"

Jimin hummed and tapped her foot. "There's something fascinating about pictures, I suppose. Something about how light captures something so simple as paper and when you snap it –" Jimin mimed clicking a camera. "– it gives so much more depth than a naked human eye would perceive. It helps me escape the world for a little while, even if it's just a polaroid. It's good to escape from reality sometimes. It keeps you sane."

But you already know this, Minjeong. Jimin watched as Minjeong scribbled everything down. Stop talking to me like a stranger.

Although Jimin used to ramble on and on about photography in their youth, there wasn't a single instant that Minjeong wasn't submerged in her fervor. More so, she always encouraged Jimin to talk about her passions, even if it went on for hours. That was something she loved about Minjeong – the girl was always patient with her through and through.

Minjeong thumbed through the edge of the pages as she tapped her pen. The snapping of the corners was sharp, almost like a ticking clock, the way she flicked her finger in a metronomic rhythm that matched the taps.

"And why would you want to escape reality?"

"All you have to do is say nice words. This is the least you can do, Jimin," her mother's words echoed. Jimin chuckled to herself, the thought that a few words could ruin her family's reputation was amusing.

"The same reason why people take vacations." Jimin shrugged. "Sometimes life gets stressful."

Minjeong's gaze lingered on Jimin's – so piercing she swore the latter could see through her shades – before casting down to scribble her words down.

"You know," Minjeong picked up her chopsticks and popped another rice cake in her mouth, "this biography will be a lot more interesting if you expressed all your honest thoughts. I know you have a lot of interesting stuff to say – you're a smart girl – so let's help each other out–"

"You already know."

Minjeong paused her chewing. Jimin pursed her lips. She didn't mean to blurt it out, but frankly, it was getting frustrating, this game they were playing around.

"You know the answers to all these questions," Jimin continued. "So stop it."

Minjeong froze for a moment before proceeding to chew at a slower pace. "The point of a biography is to write the words of the person whom the biography is based on. Even if I might know some initial information, this is the process of the job."

Job? Jimin wanted to laugh. Minjeong, you confuse me. Jimin's throat constricted. I made sure to push you far away, to hurt you, but you come right back, and for what? A pang crept up into her chest. How could you sit here with a smile on your face, like everything is fine? Scream at me, slap me, hit me. Stop pretending.

"Oh right. This is your job." Jimin strained a chuckle and laid back on her chair, arms folded. "I apologize for overstepping the professional line, Miss Kim."

"Why are you so formal now?" Minjeong flashed a wry smile with her voice light. "Keep it casual. We're basically the same age, and it's easier for answers to flow with a comfortable conversation – a heartfelt face to face conversation. Don't you think so, Jimin?"

They stared at each other for a moment – the air between them thick and heavy with unspoken tension. Minjeong's eyes seemed to be searching her face. Take off your sunglasses and let me see your face. They seemed to plead. It was funny, how Jimin could still read her eyes like a book after so many years. Then again, Minjeong was a naturally transparent person.

"Done yet, Minjeong?" A small woman in an apron and a black ponytail walked over to their booth. "It usually doesn't take you this long to finish a small dish of tteokbokki."

Minjeong flashed a kind smile that made Jimin's heart twist, her eyes crescents. "Just a few more minutes, unnie. I'm taking longer than usual because I've invited my client here."

The woman named Taeyeon hummed and nodded at Jimin who kept her face stoic. "I see. I'm very glad you've brought someone else to this place instead of crying all the time –"

"Unnie!" Minjeong shouted with wide eyes and mouth opened in distress. She shot up from her seat and packed the journal and pen into her bag. "We're actually done here, as a matter of fact. Let's go, Jimin."

"We are?" Jimin glanced between Minjeong – red in the face – and Taeyeon – mouth agape with a hand slapped over. "But there's a few more scallions–"

"Yes, we are," Minjeong said curtly. She pulled a few bills out of her coat pocket and shoved them in Taeyeon's hand. "Keep the change. We have many places to be and it's already midday. Thank you. unnie."

Minjeong shouldered her satchel and made haste out the door. As Jimin pushed her chair in to follow suit, Taeyeon muttered something that made her pause.

"So you're the girl."

Jimin spared Taeyeon a glance before the older woman left back toward the kitchen. She worried her lip as she flicked from the unfinished dish to out the window where Minjeong stood, chest and shoulders rising as she did breathing exercises. Albeit the dim day, Minjeong managed to shine against the bleak hues. Her eyes were closed, her eyelashes long, and from this angle, her side profile was beautiful. Minjeong was beautiful, so beautiful, and Jimin blemished her.

How much have you suffered because of me, Minjeong?

—

"What's up with that frown?" Minjeong asked. "Did something happen at school?"

They were under a large oak tree at a park that they agreed to meet at after school, as it was a midpoint between their schools. Jimin tried to maintain her sad act, but it was proven difficult when the corners of her lips threatened to curl. Her excitement was too much to push down.

"Was it a boy?" Minjeong pressed, eyebrows stitched and head tilted. "I'll beat them up." She cracked her knuckles and neck and rolled up her sleeves. "Just show me where they are–"

"No," Jimin quickly said, hands clutching the boxy item behind her back tighter to suppress the giddiness. "It's not that."

"What is it then?"

Jimin felt her lips twitch. She couldn't hold it in any longer, and broke into a wide grin. Her hands shot to the front to show off the item.

"Oh wow!" Minjeong's jaw dropped. "A camera?"

Jimin nodded and sprung with excitement. "A polaroid camera!"

"How'd you get it?" Minjeong awed as she turned the camera to examine it like an artifact.

"I saved up my allowance," Jimin beamed with a puffed chest.

"Wow! You're incredible, Jiminie." Minjeong mirrored the smile that swelled Jimin's chest with pride.

Jimin took the camera back. "Can you..." Shyness suddenly overcame her as she swayed her shoulders. "Will you be my first photo?"

Minjeong blinked, then beamed. "Of course. Should I pose like this, or like this?"

Jimin laughed as Minjeong did obnoxious poses against the tree. Minjeong laughed as well, and that was when Jimin snapped her first picture.

"Hey!" Minjeong yelped. "I wasn't ready!"

The machine whirred as the photo developed and printed out the slot. "Oops!" Jimin said. "My finger slipped."

"Ah, it's alright," Minjeong chuckled. "Take another one. I'll be serious this time, and make sure to get my good angles."

Jimin tittered, pocketed the initial polaroid, and leveled the camera to her eye as Minjeong posed. A strange sensation seized her finger frozen as it hovered over the button, unable to press down. Jimin had always looked at Minjeong, but through a camera lens, there was something different about her – the way the light accentuated her features, the way the breeze picked up her tresses, the way the frame captured her and only her in the moment. The rest of the world was gone, blended into the background, and Minjeong stood in the middle of the universe.

"Have you taken it yet?" Minjeong called out. "I get paid by the hour, you know."

Jimin shook her head to snap herself out her trance and refocused through the lens. "One, two, three!"

Click!

"Finally." Minjeong quipped and waltzed over. "How did I look?"

Beautiful.

"Ugly."

Minjeong gasped dramatically and slapped Jimin's arm. Jimin yelped and rubbed the assaulted spot, a sting left in the slap's wake. "Liar." The younger girl flipped her hair over her shoulder and batted her eyelashes. "I know I'm pretty."

Heat crept up Jimin's cheeks. "You're so full of yourself."

"I know you like it."

Jimin dipped her chin to watch the polaroid print, the heat in her face so overwhelming it must be noticeable to the naked eye. She hoped Minjeong wouldn't notice.

"Can I have a picture of you?" Minjeong asked as Jimin pocketed the second polaroid.

Jimin choked. "Me? Why?"

"Well–" Minjeong rubbed the back of her neck. "You have one of me – actually two – so wouldn't it be fair if I can have one of you?"

Jimin bit her lip as Minjeong looked at her with puppy eyes. She never really took pictures of herself, so what if she turned out ugly for Minjeong's picture? The only picture she had taken was her family portrait, and she didn't even attempt to smile in it.

"Pwetty please?" Minjeong pouted and tugged her sleeve.

"Fine," Jimin said curtly, looking away from Minjeong's cutesy act that made her heart flutter. "Just one. I get paid by the hour too."

Minjeong grinned and took the camera with a bounce. "Yay! Now go over there," she instructed with the wave of her hand.

Jimin looked around with uncertainty and settled by the oak tree as well. Her arms were awkwardly by her sides and she strained a smile. Minjeong wasn't too pleased, the girl lowering the camera with furrowed eyebrows.

"Why are you so awkward?" Minjeong jested. "Loosen up a little."

Jimin shuffled her feet. "How?"

Minjeong scratched her chin in thought. Her eyebrows shot up in an epiphany and she grabbed Jimin's hand and led her to a stone retaining wall beside the tree.

"Sit here," Minjeong said as Jimin plopped on the surface. "Then put your hands here." She guided Jimin's hands a little behind her. "Lean." She stepped back, squinted her eyes, and tilted her head. "Perfect."

Jimin laughed nervously as Minjeong angled the camera again. "Am I doing it right?"

"Yes, but..." Minjeong pondered. "There's something missing."

"What?"

"Your smile."

"Like this?"

"No." Minjeong shook her head. "Your smile smile. You had it before when you showed me the camera."

"Oh. I wasn't even trying to smile, though, so I don't know how to do it."

Minjeong hummed and sat beside Jimin. Her feet swayed side to side as she observed the park before them. It was barren, save for an elderly man walking a dog across the field. The park was a small one – hidden within a neighborhood – so it wasn't surprising to see it so empty. Jimin liked it. It gave her a sense of serene privacy, like they're hiding from the world.

"Maybe I should try to make you laugh," Minjeong said. "Why did the chicken cross the road?"

Jimin threw a deadpan look. "Seriously? You couldn't think of anything better?"

Minjeong pouted and furrowed her eyebrows in thought. Frankly, Minjeong was effortlessly humorous. She didn't need to recite corny jokes to make Jimin laugh. She was about to say so, but a chaste peck on her cheek caught her by surprise.

"Minjeongie–" Jimin stuttered, the latter looking at her with innocent eyes.

"Minjeongie?" Minjeong smirked. "That's new. I like it."

Jimin was frozen. The spot that her lips touched was intensely warm, or maybe that was her hot cheeks that enticed from the gesture. Her body was overwhelmingly hot, her heart a pounding engine that was overheating everything and nulled all senses. Minjeong's lips were still a lopsided smirk as she observed Jimin's reaction.

"Why are you looking at me like that?" Minjeong waved her hand in front of Jimin's eyes. "Earth to Jimin."

Jimin blinked a few times before she was able to get a grip of her senses. She shot up from her seat, so abrupt that it startled Minjeong. "Why'd you do that?"

"Your cheeks were so fluffy, they reminded me of dumpling. I'm a bit hungry, so – agh!"

Jimin's swipe for the camera was barely dodged as Minjeong broke into a sprint. "Get back here, Kim Minjeong!" Jimin shouted, hot on her tail.

"I liked Minjeongie better!" Minjeong yelled from over her shoulder as they ran into the open field.

Jimin wasn't too aware of where they were running, the only thing on her mind being Minjeong's flowing tresses in front of her and catching the girl. But what would she do once she caught her? Scold her? But the confrontation of the kiss was too flustering. Suddenly, Minjeong swiveled around and aimed the camera at Jimin – a click emitting from the machine – before Jimin crashed into her and sent them both tumbling onto the grass, Jimin landing on top of Minjeong.

"My camera!" Jimin yelped, pushing herself off the younger girl. She frantically brushed her disheveled hair away, her baratte missing from the crash. Minjeong was beneath her with the camera protectively wrapped around her arms, and it was then that Jimin realized she had Minjeong straddled.

"Ouch, Jiminie," Minjeong chuckled. "You didn't even ask if I was okay."

Jimin scrambled off Minjeong and huffed as the latter sat up. "It was your fault." She crossed her arms and frowned, hoping it would take away from the flusterness of her demeanor.

"But I got it."

"Got what?"

"The perfect photo." Minjeong smiled as the polaroid printed out the camera. She turned to Jimin, upturned eyes swimming with fascination and pure happiness.

"Your smile."

—

Jimin trudged to her room, the energy from the day long spent and burnt out. Joohyun bowed as she passed her, but Jimin didn't spare her a glance.

Her room was dark, faint moonlight streaming through the closed curtains. She navigated toward her desk, plopped on the chair, and opened the drawer to pull her scrapbook out.

The scrapbook was worn, age evident on the creases of the binder. She caressed the leather cover before opening it to the first page that displayed two polaroids – one a candid photo of Minjeong laughing – although blurry, Jimin could still make out all of her face, or perhaps that's because she had it memorized – and the other Minjeong smiling – a special vivacity in the frame that sparked it alive – which could be because Jimin remembered the moment all too clearly, the frame a comfort movie on replay.

Her fingers caressed the pictures, particularly Minjeong's face as if it was a ghost substitute. She rested her cheek beside them and breathed in the musky smell of the parchment.

Just like Minjeong's journal, Jimin couldn't let her scrapbook go. The memories in it were too much, too precious. They were alike in that aspect – running away, but not far enough to forget. Somehow, they found each other again along their crossed paths.

I wish things didn't have to turn out this way, Minjeong.

____

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