Minkyung awakens in her own bed.

She’s not under the sheets, and she’s still in her clothes from the night before, and there’s dry drool on her cheek—but she’s in her own bed.

There’s a knock at her door, and she notices the pounding headache coming at her from behind her eyeballs. 

“Come in.” Minkyung mumbles, slowly sitting up, resisting the urge for her eyes to flutter closed and guide her back to sleep.

“Hey dummy.” Kyungwon says, stepping over a pile of dirty clothes on the floor as she makes her way in. “I made you this.”
Her roommate hands her a glass—in it is a raw egg yolk, floating among some brownish liquid. 

“What the is this supposed to be?” Minkyung asks.

“Drink it.” Kyungwon plops down on the bed.

“No. This looks poisonous.”

“It’s a hangover cure. Raw egg and Worcester sauce. And black pepper.”

“You’re kidding.”

“It’s supposed to work. They call them prairie oysters.”

Minkyung sets the glass on her windowsill.

“Most days, Kyungwon, I appreciate your fun quirky attitude. Not today, not right now. I have a headache.” 

“That’s why I brought you some Advil, too.” Kyungwon unfurls her fist, two orange pills resting on the palm of her hand.

Minkyung grabs them with a groan. 

“Glad you still have some sense of reality in you.”

“You didn’t have any sense of reality in you last night.” Kyungwon giggles, kicking her legs in the air. 

Minkyung squints her eyes as she swallows the pills dry. She honestly can’t remember much from last night. Memories vaguely pass through her brain—Mingyu, watching a band, a pretty girl—but they all are vague, disconnected, and trying to remember what happened exactly is like digging into a crate full of old photos, trying to find one specific one.

“I don’t remember much of last night.” Minkyung finally says. 

“I kissed a girl, and I liked it...” Kyungwon sings mockingly, flipping onto her stomach and resting her head in her hands.

“What!?” Minkyung exclaims. 

“Oh, yes. You were making out like your life depended on it with the hot chick from Wonwoo’s band.” 

Minkyung thinks back to the pretty girl, who among all her alcohol-addled memories, still has a face that’s perfectly clear to her, and feels blush creeping up her neck.

“You’re kidding.” She says, putting her face in her hands. 

“I saw it with my own eyes.” Kyungwon reaches into the back pocket of her jeans to pull out her phone, tapping through to find something before turning to face the screen towards Minkyung. “There.” 

It’s a picture, poorly lit and shot in the dark, but it’s still clear enough to tell what’s going on. There’s Minkyung, straddling the lap of the pretty girl from the band. Yaebin. That was her name. The lap-straddling isn’t the most audacious part though—it’s the fact that the two of them seem to be in the midst of a passionate kiss. 

“You took a picture! ing ert!” Minkyung shouts, giving Kyungwon a light slap on the arm. 

Kyungwon just giggles.

“It was so funny. I was talking to Wonwoo, and he was like, mentioning that Mingyu was at the party, you know? So I was going to go find you, and do my best-friend-damage-control thing, and instead I find you making out with a girl!” 

Vague memories touch the back of Minkyung’s mind—the feeling of soft lips, of someones hand in her hair, and her face gets redder. 

“Delete that photo right now, .” She reaches her hand out for Kyungwon’s phone, who practically somersaults off the bed to keep it away from her.

Kyungwon uses one arm to hold the phone up in the air.

“I think it’s good you’re exploring your uality.”

“Don’t you have work to go to?” Minkyung furrows her brow, hand dancing in the air to try and grab Kyungwon’s phone. The other girl steps back through the bedroom door.

“Indeed, I do. I’m gonna let you stew in your emotions a bit. Mwah! Love you! Bye! Drink the prairie oyster!”

Minkyung flops back onto the bed, and reaches for the glass by the windowsill, giving it a little sniff. Gross.

She sets the glass aside and stares at the ceiling. 

Why did she kiss a girl? She was expecting her big drunk -up to be another wild tryst with Mingyu, or maybe breaking a vase, or getting in another yelling match with Kyungwon. 

Not kissing a girl.

Why was that so weird? She laces her fingers together and rests her hands on her stomach. 

It wasn’t that girls kissing girls was a bad thing. She wasn’t homophobic or anything. Her best friend was biual. Everyone at school was gay.

But her? Kissing a girl? It shouldn’t be right. Was that a bad thing to think? 

Was it just drunk desperation that made her do it? She tries to fish for memories, some sort of explanation, but she can’t think of anything. All that seems to come up is the taste of coconut chapstick and a poignant weed smell. 

Whatever. It was just one crazy night. It shouldn’t mean anything. 

She sits up in bed, gazing out the window over the downtown landscape, watching the small people below hurry down the street. Grabbing the glass, Minkyung takes a quick gulp of the disgusting concoction Kyungwon had made her, and observes a flight of birds pass its way by, the taste of egg in . 

 

•••

 

Saturday mornings are the best. They’re when Wonwoo wakes up early and makes the rest of the house breakfast. It’s a kind of present for the band, to celebrate the show the night before, and usually a hangover cure, as everyone else is usually too ed over from the previous night to do anything (Wonwoo doesn’t drink. He went straight-edge a year ago, after seeing some of his friends do it). Even if Yaebin wakes up with a pounding headache, she knows that Wonwoo is in the kitchen, making waffles. 

When she wakes up that Saturday morning, she realizes her other two roommates are already up as well. Nayoung is sitting on the floor, typing a paper for school on her laptop, and Eunwoo is playing games on her Switch, taking up the whole couch. Yaebin wonders how they can manage to be staring at screens so early in the day, but she supposes they just probably didn’t have that much to drink the night before. There’s a bit of a headache eating away at Yebin’s brain herself, but it’s not as bad as it’s been some nights. 

Nayoung looks up from her computer. 

“Good morning, Yaebin.”

“Good morning!” Eunwoo practically yells. “I heard you got some last night.”

“Ew. Don’t put it like that. I kissed a girl, that’s all.” Yaebin crosses her arms and leans against the doorway to the living room. 

“Waffles are ready!” Wonwoo shouts from the kitchen.

“ yeah!” Eunwoo throws her Switch down onto the couch and bolts out of her seat, shoving Yaebin out of the way and taking a dramatic leap over Nayoung’s laptop.

People constantly ask Yaebin if it’s hard or strange living with her bandmates. But to her, her three roommates aren’t just bandmates. They’ve all known each other since middle school. The band was just an excuse to hang out together when Nayoung was forced to go to private school by her parents, and they couldn’t see her at school anymore. Eunwoo was already drumming, ordered to take lessons by her therapist, who thought it’d be a good way to take out some of her bottled up anger. Wonwoo decided to play bass, because at 15 he just thought it was the coolest instrument, arguing that bass players were usually the coolest members of the band. Yaebin already liked writing stories and poetry in her free time, and figured the jump to songwriting couldn’t be too hard (She was wrong, but with some practice, she learned). Nayoung picked up rhythm guitar, mostly to fill a needed hole in the band—and she was never opposed to learning something new. 

When the time for moving onto college came, and Wonwoo wanted to take his passion for photography to art school, they all accommodated. Yaebin, Eunwoo, and Nayoung all went to the university downtown, to study creative writing, theater, and computer science respectively, and Wonwoo took his studies to the nearby Pledis College of the Arts, to major in photography.  The house together was the obvious step from there—and the band only progressed. The punk thing was mostly Yaebin and Wonwoo—Wonwoo took an interest in the punk scene from his art school friends, and Yaebin honestly just needed a new way to get anger out, creatively. Nayoung and Eunwoo were mostly just along for the ride. 

“Yaebin, how many waffles do you want?”
She blinks, and realizes Wonwoo is talking to her, standing in the doorway between the kitchen and the living room. He’s got the stupid gimmick apron Eunwoo got him for Christmas on (the one with the little cat face on it), but he still somehow looks cool. 

“Oh, um, yeah. Sorry, I spaced out. Two is good.”

“Still recovering from last night?”
“A little bit.” Yaebin presses the palm of her hand to her temple as she walks into the kitchen.

Eunwoo is already scarfing down her plateful, sitting across from Nayoung, who’s neatly cutting hers into little pieces. Wonwoo hands Yaebin a plate, and she scoots into an empty chair at their tiny table situated in a corner of the kitchen. 

“Yaebin got laid last night.” Eunwoo says, accentuating the ‘laid” part, mouth still full of waffle.

“Really?” Wonwoo sits down at the last open chair, raising one eyebrow.

“Do I have to say it again? Not laid. I just kissed a drunk girl is all.”
“But it was like… hot. Very steamy. There was tongue involved.” Eunwoo waves her fork around. “You never kissed me like that.”

“Eunwoo.” Nayoung says firmly. “Remember the rule. We don’t bring up Code YE in here.”

“Sorry.” Eunwoo replies, tone laden with sarcasm. 

Yaebin sighs. 

Code YE is a sensitive spot in the household—the cursed period from their senior year of high school where Yaebin and Eunwoo dated. It drove Nayoung and Wonwoo crazy, and the constant fighting between the couple themselves seemed to make the relationship between all four of them worse. But that was a part of the past, and they had moved on, for the most part. Just sometimes, certain talking points would hit a sore spot. 

“Well.” Nayoung stands up from her seat, collecting her plate. “I’m going to go study at the cafe.”

Eunwoo swallows her last obscenely large piece of waffle. Yaebin sometimes worries that she might choke, because of her refusal to cut things into smaller pieces, but its one of her friends strange habits that fills her with an odd warmth. Scooping up her plate, Eunwoo waves to Wonwoo and Yaebin. 

“I’m going to rehearsal.”

Both her and Nayoung dump their dishes in the sink, clearly eager to get out of the house, and both exit the kitchen, off to their respective daily activities. 

Yaebin stares at her plate of waffles, still feeling like the sleep-fog of just waking up is washing over her.
“You want some coffee?” Wonwoo asks.

“Yeah, that’d be great.” 

She thinks about the night before as she listens to Wonwoo fiddle around with the French press (he still drinks coffee, he’s not that hardcore of a straight edge), and she especially thinks about that girl. That drunk girl that gave her the compliments that made her heart drop into her stomach, that girl with the sparkling eyes and the foxlike face.

“Wonwoo… Do you know a girl named Minkyung?”

Wonwoo turns around with surprise. 

“Um, yeah. She goes to my school.” He hands her a cup of coffee, sitting back across from her. “Why do you ask?”

“She’s the one I… you know.”

“Kissed?”

Yaebin’s face feels hot.

“Yeah. Uh.... what’s she like?”

“I mean, I don’t know her that well. She’s in my color theory class. She makes like, paintings and stuff.” 

Paintings. Yaebin pictures Minkyung, her delicate hands handling a paintbrush, perhaps tucking her hair behind her ear and biting her lip as she studies her subject, and almost swoons.

“I mean she’s kind of weird.” Wonwoo continues. “Her ex-boyfriend started kind of going hard on her during critique the other day, calling her pretentious and stuff.”

“What’s ‘critique’ again? I don’t speak Art School.”

“Where you put your art up and the other students and the teacher comment on it.”

“Oh, ok.” She thinks about Minkyung’s tears, her asking Yaebin if she was ‘pretentious’, and wonders if that’s why. “That’s pretty rough. She seemed really upset.”

“It was bad. Hard to watch. Mingyu’s a bit of an sometimes.”

“If she has an ex-boyfriend, is she... you know?”

“Straight?”

Yaebin takes a sip from her coffee, a bit flustered.

“Yeah.”

“I mean, most girls like that are, but if she kissed you... who knows?”

“So I might have a chance?”

“You’re seriously chasing after the drunk girl from the party? Really?”

“Like I have a chance with any other girls. No one likes me. This girl... I don’t know. She...” Yaebin pauses, idly playing with some locks in her hair. “She made me feel special. Wanted, ya know?”

“Your taste in women never ceases to astound me.”

“I know that’s an insult, but I’m taking it as a compliment. Listen... do you have her number?”

“Minkyung? No.”

“What about her Instagram?”

“No.”

“Facebook?”

“No.”

“Do you know anything about her? At all. Anything at all.”

“Well... one thing.” Wonwoo says. “She works at a Baskin Robbins.”

 

•••

 

Minkyung has begun to truly regret accepting Kyungwon’s invitation to go out the previous night. 

As she stands behind the counter, eyes practically glazing over as the stares at the tubs of candy-colored ice cream, her head seems to be screaming. She just wants to sleep, chase away this asive headache (and at this point she’s not even sure whether its a hangover headache or a stress migraine), and maybe yell into her pillow a little. 

“You good?” her coworker Seungkwan asks.

Minkyung bends one of the plastic tasting spoons between her fingers.

“Honestly, not really.” 

“Hungover?”

“Yup.”

“Did you make some regretful drunk decisions last night?”

Minkyung narrows her eyes at Seungkwan, and the spoon in her hand snaps in half.

“How do you know that?”

“You called me. It was mostly nonsense, but you said something about how you kissed a girl, and that you were lonely, and that you were going to take up Juuling to get, and I quote, ‘a really badass nicotine addiction.’ Then, I think I heard the noise of you throwing up.”

“Oh god.” Minkyung leans forward, hitting her head against the top of the glass ice cream case—her Baskin-Robbins-issued uniform visor popping off her head and falling to the floor. “Did I really do that?”

“It was a voicemail. I can play it for you.”

“I think I’m good. Oh my god, I am so sorry.”

Seungkwan gives her a cheeky grin. 

“I thought it was funny. But I am definitely keeping that , for blackmail purposes.”

Minkyung lifts her head up, and gives Seungkwan a playful punch in the arm.

“Ugh, you’re the worst.”

“You love me.”

The bell on the door to the shop rings, and the pair behind the counter look up in surprise. Barely anyone has come in today—cold fall afternoons aren’t really the best time for ice cream. 

A girl stumbles in, breathing heavily like she just ran a long distance. She places her hands on her knees to catch her breath.

“Um… Welcome to Baskin Robbins? How can I help you?” Minkyung says, shuffling to the register.

The girl holds a finger in the air, face still obscured by her hair. 

“One second, let me catch my breath. I just biked here really fast.” 

She looks up, and her eyes meet Minkyung’s, and they both gasp. 

She recognizes the face immediately. It’s the face that even underneath all the alcohol-addled memory fog, still stands out clearly. 

Yaebin. 

“…Yaebin?” she says, finding her heart beat oddly fast.

The other girl suddenly looks flustered (not in the ran-out-of-energy way, but in the just-saw-my-crush way), and she stands up straight, putting her hands in the pockets of her denim jacket, like she doesn’t know what to do with them. 

“Uh, hey, Minkyung.”

‘Is this the girl?’ Seungkwan mouths at her, looking both shocked and enthralled. Minkyung makes a shooing hand motion behind the counter where Yebin can’t see, and he stands up straight and gives a knowing nod.
“Going to go take my ten minute break now, just like I was planning on doing, exactly at this moment!” he proclaims loudly, running into the back of the store, hurriedly untying his apron.

Yaebin is still breathing heavily as she approaches the counter. 

“I, well… I went to every Baskin Robbins in town to try and find you.” She pauses, seeing the confusion on Minkyung’s face. “I mean, uh… well, my roommate, he said you worked at Baskin Robbins—because he knows you, like you go to school together, but he didn’t have your number, so then I biked all over town because I don’t know how to drive, and I asked them if you worked there, and if you did if I could have your schedule, but they all said no, and oh God, this is creepy isn’t it. I’m a creep. I’m so sorry. I should leave.” 

There’s an awkward silence for a few seconds, and Yaebin looks so ashamed of herself. 

Suddenly, Minkyung starts laughing. 

It’s the pure ridiculousness of the situation. Her life feels so incredibly down in the dumps currently, just a ball of garbage slowly rolling down a hill, gathering more garbage as it goes, and the only person that even cares about her is a stranger from a stupid party she shouldn’t have even gone to.

Yaebin looks at her, face flushed red.
“I’m sorry, I’m sorry. I knew you would think this is stupid, I’m sorry, I’m embarassing, forget it.” She starts to back up and out of the store, and Minkyung hiccups away the last of her laughter, and notices that Yaebin is crying. . 

“Wait, ! Yaebin! Come back. I’m sorry, I’m sorry for laughing. I’m just having a weird day, I’m sorry. I don’t think you’re creepy or stupid, I… I think you’re actually really sweet.” Yaebin sniffles, walking a little closer to the counter again. Did Minkyung hit a tender spot by laughing? Goddammit, she always does this. “It’s really nice of you to um, go out of your way to find me again. You make me feel very special, and no one else really does, and everything is ridiculous right now, that’s why I laughed. Do you want uh… free ice cream or something?”

Yaebin gives a small hiccupy giggle.

“I felt so bad when I went into the other ice cream shops that I was bothering them, so I kept buying ice cream and eating it, and I actually feel a little sick right now. But thank you, really.” She grabs a napkin from a napkin dispenser on a nearby table, and blows her nose. “You really don’t think I’m creepy?” 

“Nah. I’ve done worse. But why? Why would you put in all the effort?”

“Because… you’re really pretty, and nice, and I like you a lot… and you make me feel special too, and um….  I wanted to give you my number. I wanted to ask you on a…” Yaebin’s voice suddenly gets very small and nervous. “On a date, I guess. So we could have a proper introduction.” 

Minkyung feels a pit drop in her stomach. She isn’t fully sure why, but she wants to say yes. She wants to say yes to going on a date with this goofy girl so badly. But it isn’t her, she says to herself. It can’t be—she’s straight. She likes boys, not girls. No matter how cute this one girl is, no matter how much she wants to hold this one girls hand or kiss her again, it can’t happen. Her brain feels like it keeps autocorrecting itself, when she wants it to say something else, and it makes her guts twist into knots. 

“Ah, Yaebin…” she says, nervously, fishing in her back pocket for a crumpled receipt, “I… don’t like girls like that. I mean, us kissing, I’m just—like I said, everything’s really hard for me right now. And I’m lonely. What happened, it was a mistake. I didn’t mean to lead you on. That was wrong of me.”

Yaebin looks crushed.

“W-wait.” Minkyung continues, and she starts scribbling a number on the crumbled receipt. “I want to give you my number. I think you’re really cool. We could hang out, as friends? If you wanted. I want to spend more time with you.” She slides the receipt across the counter, and her hands are shaking, like she’s the one asking Yaebin out. 

Yaebin smiles, but it’s a weakened one, one of someone who’s lived through something like this many times. 

“Yeah, I can do friends.” she says. She bends down to the ground, picking up the visor off the ground. “Is this yours?” She leans across the counter, placing it on Minkyung’s head. Minkyung’s heart skips a beat for a split second at the display of domestic affection. “I should go home. Let’s hang out… soon.” 

Later in the evening, Minkyung rides the bus home wracked with a strange feeling of guilt and confusion. That night, she texts Mingyu. 

 

 

a/n: "straight edge" is a subculture of hardcore punk. those that are straight edge dont drink or do any drugs