“Do you believe in God?” Minjeong clasped the rosary tight in between her fingers, the beads etching marks around the gaps like holding it taut closer to her skin would somehow manifest an answer. It never did. However, it was still a question Minjeong liked to ask every now and then. See, it was no longer about the response, which never came, but the reaction it guaranteed; a gentle hum, a dismissive nod, the crinkle on the corn

“I—” Minjeong inhales, “I don’t have a girlfriend.” Minjeong looks at her expectantly, Jimin nods. Okay, she doesn’t have a girlfriend. MathGod™, soccer team’s captain, president of student council, everyone’s-ideal-type-and-first-love, kind, compassionate, Kim Minjeong — whom Jimin looks at yearningly and lovingly every Wednesday when they share chemistry together, the girl who she was willing to go to detention for after classes even when she did not even do anything wrong, and the

They are done. It was something they both had agreed on, sitting across from each other instead of sitting side by side, Jimin ordering coffee when she never liked the taste in a cafe they never got the chance to go to until that day — it was enough, she said, not quite believing the implications, and you're right, was Jimin's meek reply. Or, Jimin and Minjeong's post-break up introspection.

sometimes, she feels like jimin knows. knows how much of aeri's heart is in her hands. she's careful, though, and maybe that's what makes it worse. because she took aeri's heart, tucked it somewhere safe, and forgot that it's even there. 

And it was dark, and the stars were littered in the sky like freckles — or moles — and the imagery of it all was just… poetically beautiful. At seventeen, Nayeon realized that she's fallen too deep with the island life. She looked at where Mina stood, smiling at the sea. (And maybe, just maybe, everything that comes with it.)

It feels oddly domestic and perfect — this unconscious dynamic — even romantic in a sense; just two sleep-deprived students willingly screwing their lives for a chance at a profession that wouldn't even bat an eyelash if they dropped dead. Yeah, very romantic.

The thing knocks at the back of her head relentlessly. Nayeon thinks about it for a second before she opens the door, welcoming it with a side-eye and a groan, and finally allowing herself to melt in a long-overdue acknowledgement. I'm in love with Myoui Mina.

“I think that’s how love is supposed to be,” Jimin shrugs, “see, this is the problem. There’s a thin line between bravery and stupidity and you keep on mistaking one for the other.” Jimin tilts her head, pouts a little, and it does nothing good for Minjeong’s heart, “It’s not stupid. It’s brave actually. To know that there’s an endless possibility of you getting hurt multiple times, and still going for it regardless.” or, Minjeon

Jimin wants to cry, out of appreciation and love –  maybe some frustration too because Minjeong is so understanding and she sees Jimin in a way she can’t even do herself. So she did, she cried, with Minjeong holding her lithe frame in a hug and whispering sweet nothings into her ear, she poured her heart out, bled dry and open under the cold shower with strong arms locked on her torso, not letting go. or, Jimin is figuring her life out in the city and Minjeong is there to help her.

Minjeong fell in love twice. 

Ryujin thinks Lee Chaeryeong looks like a song. The one you listen to while driving after a long day of exhausting work, the one that feels warm and welcoming and simply beautiful, a combination of a poem and rhythm — lifting Ryujin up with gentleness only distinctive to her.

Jimin loves riding elevators.

Minjeong’s hands slip up and down behind her back, covering each space, leaving hot marks all over Jimin’s skin, making her shallow breaths even slower, more ragged. Each press of Minjeong’s thumb sends her spiraling into oblivion. Fingernails grazing ever so slightly it drove Jimin mad.   (or Minjeong gave Jimin a well deserved massage and fluffy crack ensues.)

Ningning bit the insides of her cheek, eyes grazing Giselle’s face with so much admiration. She has never felt like this before. Sure, she had fallen in love with strangers during her morning commutes here and there, and adored some members of their school choir, but none of them feels as extreme as this one.

Winter stayed put, watching Karina say her vows. And even then, her heart still flutters, taking it all.

Everyone dissolves into the background. Noises all static. The only sound clear enough to be heard was Wendy’s voice, smooth and rough around the edges. Sending Irene aloft, making her stomach lurch. There it is again. That dizzying feeling. No butterflies. Just pure sunshine.

Joy always looks... and it's always at her.

Joy broke Seulgi's camera and she now she has to pay, only not with the usual currency.