“For the very last time I’m asking you this: are you sure you want to move out?”

Tiffany, sweaty but still unbelievably pretty, answers, eyes not smiling. Which means Taeyeon has driven her to the wall alright. “For the very, very last time I’ll answer you this: it’s OK, TaeTae.”

Taeyeon is not okay with the image of Tiffany carrying boxes to the flat a floor above their… what used to be theirs. Especially since it’s summer, and the sun is in full blast, and the heat presses heavily on their backs and it’s a struggle to stay sane through the broiling, humid air. With a shake of her head, she elicits another groan from the taller girl.

“Come on, Tae. You’ll thank me later.”

“And why so?”

Crouching to Tiffany’s eye level, she watches Tiffany packing the last of her clothes into her duffel bag. “Your wi—“

“Partner.”

Tiffany holds back a snicker. “Okay. Partner. Seriously, it’s for the better. Me, the one who’s moving out, I mean. So she’ll move in. And you don’t have to spend your remaining high school days in the hellhole that is her flat.”

“Fine. I trust you this much.”

“Friends for life?”

“Is her flat that bad?”

“Imagine a zoo. Now imagine a zoo, but with a bed in the middle of it.”

Fifteen minutes of gossiping and rounds of cursing at the school system later, they find themselves sitting on the floor, tugging the sweat-dampened tee in a vain attempt to survive Death By Heatstroke, and more ‘ my life’s a sailor could even manage in his lifetime.

“I guess this is a goodbye for our time well-spent, Comrade Taeyeon?”

“Yeah. T’was nice preparing breakfasts and lunches and dinners and late-night snacks for you.”

Tiffany nudges her in the elbow because Taeyeon pretty much nailed their one-year camaraderie in the most scarily accurate way possible. “You’ll miss me. So bad you’ll come up there with your prized banjo and, and you’ll serenade me home. And then I’ll play hard to get and you’ll back down and die lonely.”

Taeyeon successfully pries herself from the safe heaven that is the floor. “Want me to help you with all the boxes?”

“No need!” Tiffany adds a frantic hand movement. She, too, gets up to her full height. “I can manage. Just clean the place around since your wi—“

“Partner.”

“Partner will probably bust in any time soon.”

“Cool.”

Bag slung and a box in hand, Tiffany stops dead from her track to the door. “You sure you don’t know who you’re paired up with, TaeTae?”

“Nope. I was out cold in the infirmary when they announced the pairs and you guys won’t tell me who’s the lucky guy… or girl.” Taeyeon recalls the bitter memory of standing in the trajectory of Yoona’s valiant attempt at batting a home run, which netted her a broken nose, a concussion, and three-hours worth of educational life into oblivion.

After another round of cursing at the school system, Tiffany finally sashays out of their… used to be theirs flat, leaving Taeyeon slumping on the couch, waiting half-anxiously for the Mysterious Partner X.

In order to restore the concept of commitment and the importance of family to teenagers these days, Principal Lee Soo Man (who Taeyeon guesses, has too many free time on his hands and too many bucks to pocket) adds another onto his students’ suffering: a “freshly-crafted system” – the “School-Years Marriage” Program.

Things to note:

One, you will be paired up randomly to someone in your year and you will spend the rest of your school year(s) with your “partner” and you must act out a marriage life with your partner. That means sharing Seoul Academy’s school-issued flats with your partner and having to take care of each other in good and bad times even though you skipped the “I Do” part of the whole marriage fiasco.

Two, this will actually appear on your end-semester report cards, which means your college acceptance rate will be doomed if you decided to hone in only your study. Which makes the “School-Years Marriage” program mandatory even if you aren’t even interested in marriages. As soon as you rendezvous with your marriage partner, you will fill out the form and hand them into the box outside the faculty office. Fill in the details, especially your phone number, since you’ll be given missions from time to time to test your bond and the effort you have put to the system.

Three, things will be monitored as always, as there are surveillance cameras installed in every of the students’ shared apartments, which limits the chance of funny business or physical or even mental abuse to, hopefully, zero.

Four, now we pronounce you husband/wife and husband/wife.

Someone knocks on the door and Taeyeon quickly maximizes her effort in playing it cool by swiping her bangs behind and summoning out her coolest half-lidded oppa stare. Tiffany will be proud of her.

She opens the door, eyes sweeping the girl before her bottoms-up – okay legs, okay s, okay face, why is she glaring…

Apparently, she’s partnered up with one of second years’ iest nomination Jessica Jung. Complete with her not eco-friendly glare (or maybe that’s the default setting for her eyes), mean unnie arms-crossed pose, and an aura that makes Taeyeon question whether winter comes a little earlier. Blackening eyebags are visible. She’s also wearing those medic-esque masker that covers half of her face. Oddly enough, Taeyeon still recognizes her despite the two not being in the same class and her lack of social and environmental awareness.

“Um. W-welcome to Sergeant Kim’s Lonely Hearts Club.” Taeyeon opens the door wider for her and motions a welcoming gesture, complete with the stretched hand and 45 degrees angle hunching back. Jessica nods and steps in without uttering a single word.

Taeyeon feels like an utter tool.

Jessica sets down her bag on the coffee table in front of the couch, eyeing her new flat with keener eyes. Taeyeon follows her gaze, out of politeness more than anything, but it gets uncomfortable really fast. “So uh, are you physically incapable of speaking or?”

Jessica stares at her like she’s just blended her hamsters along the strawberries for a glass of smoothies.

“Okaaay, this is awkward.” Taeyeon scratches the back of her neck out of reflex. “Have a seat. I’ll get us something to drink while we talk about our… future plans.”

She skips to the kitchen a little too willingly, wanting a Jessica Jung-less air as soon as possible. It was… suffocating. Jessica, on the other hand, has seated herself comfortably enough on the couch, fiddling with her phone. With two glasses of barley tea in hand, Taeyeon drags herself to the living room and sits on the other end of the couch.

“So… hello, wife?”

Jessica nods. “You look stoned.”

“And that’s the first thing you uttered to your spouse.” Taeyeon heaves a sigh. “It’s the heat.”

Jessica lets out something that sounds like a giggle, rings like wedding bells, and resonates like angel choruses. And… and that monster of a giggle is supposed have its groundbreaking potential held back by that flimsy one-use masker. “We’re married and the only thing I knew about you is your name. And the fact that you’re that kid from the neighboring class with yellow highlight on her hair. And that you’re surgically attached to your guitar.”

Taeyeon flinches. “Okay. I guess a formal introduction is on the way?”

“Sure.”

Taeyeon stretches out a hand (palm sweaty and sorta disgusting but Taeyeon is sort of on auto-pilot and she promptly forgets to wipe her palm beforehand) for the purpose of a handshake, which Jessica accepts. Rigidly. Because, ew, sweaty palm. And they shake their hands. Rigidly. While staring into each other’s eyes, giving silent affirmation while psycho-analyzing one another and thinking up a plan to dispose one another without filing a divorce paper on the first day of their “marriage”.

When they let go, Taeyeon officially filed the experience as her most awkward handshake to date.

“Hold on a sec,” quickly, she gets up and makes her way to the bedroom, grabbing a pen and a paper.

“What are those for?”

Taeyeon sets herself on the floor, setting the paper on the table and clicking on the pen. “Our future plans.”

“You’re not going to divorce me on the second day?”

“Nah?”

Jessica follows suit, sitting down on the floor an arm length from Taeyeon. “We need to set our roles apart first.”

“Husband and wife?”

Jessica nods, looking on her lap like it’s the most fascinating out of the things in the room. “I’m the wife.”

“Wh – no!”

Before Taeyeon could protest more, Jessica is already glaring at her. She swallows back a train of arguments. “I am the wife. The wife of Kim Taeyeon.”

Sighing, Taeyeon scribbles their roles on the very top of the paper. Wife: Jessica Jung. Unhappy Husband: Kim Taeyeon. “Hello there, Jessica Kim.” Jessica’s brows crinkle in disgust and Taeyeon knows where to stop. “So I guess since I’m the ‘husband’, I’m the breadwinner?"

“Yeah. According to the guidelines the husband is the one in charge of making sure we’re financially secure. Take up part-time jobs or something.”

“Ewww, traditional gender roles.”

“I know right.”

That’s the first time they actually agreed on something and Taeyeon celebrates the occasion by taking a sip of her barley tea. “Make me a sammich.”

“Huh,”

“You’re the wife, goddamnit!”

“I’m so calling the Social Justice Cops on you.”

Taeyeon laughs at that. Jessica sounds more …internet than she actually looks. She jots down, rules: 1. the husband will be out and about applying for Burger King while the wife will be home, making a sandwich and enjoying afternoon reality TV shows.

“Sounds okay.” Jessica voices out her approval.

“Hmmm.” Taeyeon hums back begrudgingly. “Can you cook?”

“I can’t.”

“Like, instant noodles…?”

“Oh, that. I can.” Jessica replies back in a heartbeat. The last part trailing off suspiciously.

Taeyeon bangs her head on the table. “We’re doomed.”

Jessica takes the pen out of Taeyeon’s loosening grip, pulls the paper to her side, and writes down something. Which Taeyeon quickly disapproves of when she finally reads the “rule” Jessica has carved onto the paper. 2. The husband must unconditionally listen to the wife, simply because it is against the law of universe for a girl to be wrong anyway.

“Hello, I am a girl too, woman. I do possess a functioning set of .”

Jessica sets the pen down and crosses her arms in front of her rather -ular chest. (Credits to Kim Taeyeon’s lightning-speed observational skill.) “Whatchu say, husband?” The not-so-subtle emphasis on the husband part doesn’t go unnoticed.

“Anything else you want to add, wifey?”

“Not yet.”

“Okay.” Taeyeon sighs for the umpteenth time. She has probably aged a couple years since Jessica set her foot in. “Okay. Okay.” Finalizing their set of guideline, she gets up to pin the paper on their fridge using one of many souvenir magnets Tiffany has gotten from people.

3. No falling in love and for real, aight.

Due to the many, many questions send to the inbox of faculty office pertaining the “School-Years Marriage” system, we have compiled the most essential and frequently asked questions for reference.

FAQ (FREQUENTLY ASKED QUESTIONS):

Ok Taecyeon, class 2-1: What will happen if we skip out on the mission?
Answer: The mission will be given alongside a time limit. Bypassing the time limit will result in detention, and will affect your score on your report.

Wu Yi Fan, class 1-3: Can you divorce your partner on the first day?
Answer: Unfortunately, no. You’re allowed to divorce three days after the marriage, unless the situation calls for it. Consult to a teacher if the situation calls for an emergency.

Kim Hyoyeon, class 2-2: Can you marry yourself?
Answer: Unfortunately, that is not allowed.

Kim Taehyung, class 2-1: Can you marry a fictional character?
Answer: Don’t even get me started on this one.

When Jessica’s busy with unpacking and adjusting to the room Tiffany has left behind, Taeyeon goes to prepare their dinner. A husband in frilly pink apron (Tiffany’s choice). Jessica’s room has been oddly quiet and… not unpacking-like. There was a whole lot of thumps just ten minutes ago.

Being the good husband she is, Taeyeon calls her out. “Honey, hurry if you’re done. Dinner is ready.”

“Give me a… no, two… actually ten seconds, .”

Taeyeon doesn’t mind the pet name. Love takes time, after all. At least they will have to stick to each other until three days later, where they could legally divorce one another if things don’t work out. Footsteps are heard, getting nearer and Taeyeon readies herself, standing behind the table with her hands outstretched for dramatic effect. She mumbles a ten-count countdown to herself. Jessica pops out when she’s at three.

“Wha… dinner?”

Taeyeon answers with a nod and a million-watt grin. “Husband style.”

Jessica pulls her infamous eye roll. “Tell me you’re joking and you’ll actually take me to somewhere decent and this is just some kind of semi-dinner.”

 Taeyeon stalks to the edge of the room, eyes on Jessica as she blindly grasps for the light switch. The room dims out, illuminated only by whatever light source exist outside the boundary of their four-windowed apartment. Slightly skipping on her steps, she fishes out a lighter from the pocket of her eye-catching apron, producing a flickering light for the candles perched on the center of the table. Sitting prettily on the table are a cup of warm tea (Jessica’s), a can of 7UP (Taeyeon’s) and two cups of steaming instant noodles, lids halfway open and curled in the way they’re in TV ads.

Still abnormally giddy, Taeyeon pulls a chair for Jessica. The latter stares incredulously at the former. “Candlelight dinner, hun.”

“I’ll give you E for Effort.”

After Jessica is seated, Taeyeon hops onto her chair across Jessica, undoing her straight-out-of-Barbie-world apron and throwing it blindly to somewhere. “We’re one bouquet of roses away from a proper candlelight romance.”  Jessica doesn’t reply, but Taeyeon swears on the grave of Yuri’s granny’s granny that she heard a muffled chuckle coming from the masker-clad girl, who has her chopsticks in hand now. “Are you going to eat with that thing on?”

“Are you seriously asking me that.” Jessica pulls her masker down for the first time in forever. Her voice sounds a hundred times better.

“I wasn’t talking about the masker.”

“Wha…”

“Your face.” Taeyeon rudely points with her chopstick, face scrunching up into her imitation of the infamous -killing glare.

Jessica returns the honor of Taeyeon’s imitation with the original one. “Wow, that’s new. Like, ten years too late, new.”

“Yeah. You’ve probably scared enough kids to win you first place on Halloween with your resting face.” Or her default face. Whichever one is chillier.

There was a snort, but when Taeyeon glances away from her noodle to Jessica, the latter is already onto her cup, savoring the cup noodle, boiled to perfection after years of training and consuming the same brand. Now that Jessica’s face is in clear view (as clear as candle-lit can be), Taeyeon inspects it while munching on her noodles.

Jessica Jung is, like, really pretty. The masker really hid the wonders.

When she should be focusing on the steaming broth, her eyes keep finding themselves onto Jessica’s hair, eyes, nose, lips – those lips. She could trace a thin layer of lip balm. She could almost imagine the softness. God crafted Jessica’s lips a little too kissable. Too inviting. 

If she knew she would be married to such a hottie, she would have... actually put on more effort. 

But of course, it’s about time Jessica noticed the staring. She squirms in her seat. “Which part of stop staring else I’ll be dialing the cops flew above your head?”

“Don’t wear the masker ever again.”

“I’m feeling under the weather today.” She replies nonchalantly, taking a light gulp of factory-made broth.  A smirk is present on her face, “Liking what you see that much?”

The smirk – the candle-lit smirk will be forever ingrained in her mind. Taeyeon gulps and chokes on her saliva.

Jessica hurriedly springs up from her seat to the counter, pulling a couple sheet of tissues for Taeyeon and sets it on the wheezing girl’s side. Taeyeon flashes her a thankful look and a thumbs up. “, you’re hot. Why are we married again?”

Jessica smiles, little too honey-ed this time. “That’s new. Like, twenty years too late, new.”

When Taeyeon resumes on her noodle, she couldn’t fathom how her previously curry-flavored broth tastes too sweet for a curry-flavored broth now. A bit too honey, half too sugary. Jessica Jung is the one to blame.

Taeyeon wakes up to the feel of her phone buzzing against her cheek. She probably falls asleep halfway through an e-book and the phone falls flat on her face. Probably why the muscles in her cheek cramp like hell, too.

Groaning at the incessant buzzing, she’s greeted with ten LINE messages. Eight of them Kangin’s.

scandalous asshat: hey
scandalous asshat: ta
scandalous asshat: taenf
scandalous asshat: *taeng
scandalous asshat: how’d th e nught w/ jeccica h
scandalous asshat: uh
scandalous asshat: oops *hows *night *jesica
scandalous asshat: taenf

Taeyeon decides not to reply and plow onto the other two messages. Yuri’s.

black kid: i think i saved a country from famine and STDs in my past life
black kid: photo

While the photo is loading, Taeyeon gets up from her bed, a hand trying to smooth her raging bed hair as she makes her way to the living room. Nearly dropping her phone when the hazy low-res pixels turn into an HD shot of Tiffany’s profile from the back, in what looks like a kitchen, hunching as she’s probably preparing breakfast or stuff.

Kim Taeyeon: what the hell

Her phone buzzes before she could throw it down onto the floor, cursing on whichever God has plagued two-years long curse on Tiffany. Revealing four new messages from two different people.

black kid: HAHA
black kid: fany asked me to relay this message as shes busy doing wifey stuff: dont even try to wake jessi up she’ll kickbox you to submission
black kid: btw hows sica

Kim Taeyeon: she’s legit hot. whats not to love

black kid: they say love is blind
black kid: o baby u so blind
black kid: kimmy T isnt fine
black kid: she too got her blue balls stuck in the Jung vine
black kid: consider me a Shakespeare

Kim Taeyeon: are you high

Ignoring Tiffany’s warning, Taeyeon sets her feet for Jessica’s room while she opens the messages sent by problematic fave Im Yoona.

deer hoe: photo

Turning the door handle to Jessica’s room, Taeyeon quirks a disbelieving eyebrow at the snapshot of Yoona’s bookshelf, filled with doorstopping books and tons of useful-useless encyclopedias. It used to only hold volumes of Death Note.

deer hoe: unnie help

Kim Taeyeon: you dont read book youre practically illiterate to things that arent comic books

deer hoe: Did I Marry Seo Joohyun Or A Bookstore I Do Not Know

Kim Taeyeon: oh my god

Yoona is a lost cause. If she and Seo Joohyun – first year’s valedictorian – were to divorce, though, Seo will probably the one who initiates it.

Jessica is asleep, peaceful, and still effortlessly beautiful. Cover kicked down. Maybe she’s into kickboxing for real… with those legs that go on for miles. Minutes trailed by fast, and Taeyeon is still there, shoulders leaning back to the closed door and hand imaginary hair on chin. Contemplating. Mulling. Observing.

Taeyeon wipes an escaping drool with the back of her hand.

Inching closer to Jung’s Lair, she calms down her breath. Or whatever left, since Jung has taken her breath away. Cue synthesized chipmunk bubblegum pop love song. Time to wake Jessica up; there’s still so many things to do. They have yet to fill the form, the fridge is in need of a tour to the supermarket, and maybe they should take pics too… and brag to Kangin. The memory of Jessica’s rare-but-friggen-gold smile comes to mind.

Anyway, it’s not like Jessica Jung can kickbox for real. Right?

Notes: Tell me your thoughts! Upvote & comments are greatly appreciated :DDD