There is nothing that feels quite as debasing as waking up in Mingyu’s apartment. 

So when Minkyung wakes up there Monday morning, it takes two seconds for an absolute sense of anxiety to wash over her. 

It had taken a day for Mingyu to even reply to her text asking if he wanted to hang out, and so Minkyung had to go to his apartment on a Sunday of all things. Walking up the stairs, she had considered the implications of going to have with your ex boyfriend to feel better about yourself on God’s day—but after Mingyu offered her a gross beer from his fridge, she had forgotten the moral dilemma entirely. 

She wasn’t even sure why she kept doing this. 

She didn’t enjoy the , or even the kissing, or the foolish compliments Mingyu stumbled out while he tried to take her shirt off. 

It was like biting her nails, or picking at her skin, she supposes. A brief moment of an uncomfortable sensation that gave her a few seconds of relief from a creeping anxiety.

She was kissing a boy, like normal girls do. This is what girls did. They kissed boys, and they had , and it was a normal part of their lives. A routine. 

When lit by the darkness of a desperate evening decision, Mingyu’s apartment is passable. However, in the morning light, it makes Minkyung’s stomach crawl. It’s not necessarily that it’s the apartment of a gross boy in college. It’s that everything in it seems to remind Minkyung of her bad choices, of her bad relationships, her bad relapses into bad habits.  

Mingyu’s paintings are all over the place. It stinks a bit like spray paint and weed and she hates it. Is it even allowed to spray that inside? What does his landlord think? 

His skateboard leans against the leftmost wall, and Minkyung thinks about the countless hours she had to spend filming him for the tricks he would put on his Instagram. There was one nice time where he tried to teach her how to skate, but when she fell over, he laughed, and she had started to cry. 

Half the clothes in his closet aren’t even on the hangers. Is that her flannel? She looks back at one of his paintings, a whirling mess of gross green and brown sprayed on a piece of plywood. He says she’s the pretentious one. Maybe he should look at himself sometime. 

Her whole body aches, and she sits up a little. She’s been smashed against the wall in the process of sharing a bed with Mingyu. As Minkyung sits up to grab her shirt off the floor, the door to the room swings open, and in comes the man himself. 

“Oh hey, you’re up.” he says, and Minkyung self consciously covers her chest as if he hadn’t just seen it last night. He seems in a hurry, digging through pile on the floor until he finds a single sneaker underneath a sweatshirt. 

“Where are you going?” Minkyung asks. 

“To class.”

Minkyung blinks, and turns to look at the clock next to the bed. 

10:07 am.

She was supposed to have an 8am class.

Mingyu plops down on the ground and begins tying his shoes.

“Why didn’t you wake me up?” Minkyung demands, starting to wrangle her shirt over her head.

“You were sleeping.”

“I have an 8 am!”

“Sorry.” He reaches into the pockets of his jeans, pulling out a long black rectangle. The Juul. 

As he places it between his lips, Minkyung starts rubbing her temples.

“I slept through my most important class.”

Mingyu doesn’t say anything, and just blows a cloud of cucumber-scented nicotine fog into the air. 

“Are you seriously Juuling inside right now?” Minkyung says.

“What, is it against the law or something?”

Minkyung leans back, letting out an exasperated sigh.

“See, this is what I’m saying when I say you’re full of yourself.” says Mingyu. “You’re so judgmental.”

“I just wanted you to ing wake me up for class!” Minkyung snaps, trying to hold back tears. 

“How was I supposed to know when your classes are?”

“Because we dated for a year, ! And I keep ending up here, every weekend, somehow! You should know I always schedule my 8 am classes for Mondays.” Her voice wavers slightly, and the crack in it shatters her confidence even more, as she imagines Mingyu complaining to his friends about how shrill she is. He’s done it before, hasn’t he?

“Just skip the class.” Mingyu shrugs, and Minkyung wants to scream, because he’s being so nonchalant about it. “Also, you were the one who texted me first.” 

She doesn’t reply, too busy focusing on keeping back the sting of tears that threaten to crash into her like a wave. 

“…Sorry.” Mingyu says, barely looking in her direction. “I, uh, gotta go.” He stands up, and exits out the door, leaving Minkyung alone in his room.

 

•••

 

“Bad day?” Seungkwan asks.

Minkyung is currently sitting on the shop’s counter, taking plastic taste test spoons and snapping them in half, creating a small little pile of broken fluorescent shards next to her. She looks up at her coworker, who is still adjusting his uniform after just arriving. 

“Yes, kinda. ed up and missed class the other day.”

“I have a feeling it’s more than that.” Seungkwan says. “Is it the boy?” 

“Ugh, how do you know.” Minkyung hops down from the counter, scooping broken plastic into the palm of her hand and dropping it in the trash can.

“I have my ways.” 

“I don’t know why I keep doing this to myself.” Minkyung says, leaning on the counter. “I just keep making myself suffer.”

“Because you’re lonely.” Seungkwan remarks sagely.

“I am not!” She breaks eye contact with him, looking out the front window of the store, watching for someone she knows won’t be there.

“What about that girl from the other day?” 

“Seungkwan, you know I’m not interested in girls that way.”

“Hm.” He doesn’t say anything directly, but something about the strange smirk on his face seems to say that he knows something that Minkyung doesn’t. “Well… You’re not just lonely romantically. You need friends.”

“I have friends!” Minkyung insists. “I’ve got Kyungwon, and you, and…” She trails off, looking down at her feet.

Seungkwan just raises an eyebrow at her. 

“Well, anyways, it’s not like she’s texting me back.” she murmurs, and as if on cue, the phone in her back pocket buzzes. 

It’s a text from an unknown number.

 

sup this is yaebin the girl that cried in your baskin robbins 

sorry

that’s a bad way to introduce myself

do you want to hang out?

maybe tomorrow

at 2?? at my place ?? ill send my address hold on

 

Minkyung doesn’t know why, but reading the messages, her stomach starts to tumble with excitement. She types back a nervous “yes!” with a thousand exclamation points attached. 

“Who’s that?” Seungkwan tries to lean over her shoulder, but she pulls the phone away from him.

“None of your business!”

“It is so my business. I’m appointing myself as your official emotional support system, therefore I have rights to see who you’re texting.”
“It’s the girl, whose name is Yaebin, by the way. We’re going to hang out.”  Minkyung says, putting away the phone in the pocket of her jeans. “See, I don’t need your help. Everything works out on its own.” She narrows her eyes at him. 

Seungkwan gives her a haughty smirk.

“Sure.”

 

•••

 

Yaebin taps the end of her cigarette, letting the ashes fall solemnly to the wet pavement, before dropping the whole thing on the ground, crushing it under the heel of her boot. She tucks her phone back into her jacket pocket, breathing in the damp fall air. She’s nervous. Will Minkyung actually be cool with hanging out with her? How will she be able to just be friends when she’s staring at Minkyung’s pretty face? She shakes her head, pushing open the door to the store to get back to her shift.

“You doing ok?” Vernon asks, positioning a copy of Tyler the Creator’s “Flower Boy” under the “Now Playing” sign.

“Yeah.” Yaebin’s eyebrows crease. “Why do you ask? 

“You’re smoking, and you only ever smoke when you’re stressed out.” Vernon says observantly. He pulls the record out of its sleeve, softly blowing away any dust as he places it on the record player. He turns to Yaebin and shrugs. “Just saying.”

“Okay, you got me.” She drags the wet soles of her boots across the store’s doormat and walks behind the counter. “Listen… I’ve got a question.”

“Shoot.” Vernon replies, dropping the needle onto the record.

“Have you ever liked a girl that didn’t like you back? But then she still wanted to be friends?”

“Something like that.”

“How do you get over that?”
“It just sort of happens, I guess. Eventually feelings pass. What? Do you have a crush?” He smirks. “Is it that girl you were making out with at the show?”

“Oh god.” Yaebin puts her face in her hands. “Why do even you know about that?”

“I went to your show, and then I went to say hi, and you were... you know.”

“.” Yaebin mutters. “Yeah, it is her.”

“But you were kissing her? And she doesn’t like you?” 

“It’s complicated.”

“Sounds like it.” 

“She asked for a kiss, but she’s just lonely. And straight. She doesn’t like me sober.”

“I don’t know man.” Vernon says. “If she’s the one that wanted to kiss you, that sounds pretty not-straight to me.”

“Girls are weird.”

“If you really think she doesn’t like you, then you’ll just have to adjust if you want to stay friends. It just kind of has to be that way. But eventually, you’re just friends, and it’s ok.”

Yaebin sighs.

“I guess so.” 

The music playing from the record player swelled, filling up the empty store. Yaebin closes her eyes, breathing deep to chase the nerves away.

 

•••

 

Using the address Yaebin had gave her, Minkyung found herself in a calm residential neighborhood. She was a little jealous. Her and Kyungwon lived in one of the scarier parts of the city. Her walks to her apartment usually entailed mystery men yelling at her and the smell of cigarette smoke staining her clothes. Yaebin’s neighborhood was like where Minkyung grew up—tenderly cared for front yards, little bushes dotted with roses, big tall trees shading the sidewalk. It was quiet, the occasional car whirring by, but it was like a pleasant little haven hidden just off some of the main city streets. 

The house she currently was standing in front of was small, with a tended-to garden. A bike leans on the front porch, one Minkyung recognizes from the coffee shop encounter a couple days earlier. Carefully, she walks up the gravel pathway to the door, feet crunching on the ground. She stuffs her hands in her pockets, not sure what to do with herself, really. Making new friends isn’t really something Minkyung does. She has her people, and she’s fine with that. Yet—she’s the one reaching out to this girl, this random girl she met at a party. It’s so very odd. 

She raps her fist against the door. 

It takes a few seconds, but it swings open, and she’s faced with someone she never thought she’d see.

“Jeon Wonwoo?” she sputters out, trying to stay cool.

A small voice at the back of her head reminds her of Kyungwon’s comment about “the girl from Wonwoo’s band.” . That’s Yaebin’s roommate?

Minkyung and Wonwoo are on fine terms. They barely know each other, really. He’s sort of faint acquaintances with Mingyu, in that they sometimes go skate together. He’s an okay photographer. They have some classes together. She always has an itching feeling he doesn’t like her very much. She’s getting that same feeling as he stares at her from the other side of the doorway.

“Uh, hi.” he says. “Yaebin!” he calls back into the house. “Your friend is here!”

“How… are you?” Minkyung asks, listening to the sound of footsteps approaching behind Wonwoo.

“I’m good. You?”

“Good.” 

“Minkyung!” a feminine voice says, and Wonwoo backs up, letting Yaebin’s head poke through the door. “You came!”

Minkyung chuckles. “Well, of course I did.” 

“Come on in.” Yaebin is dressed down, in a flannel over a t-shirt, with some sweatpants, hair in a messy braid. She gives a big, eager smile so infectious that it even makes Wonwoo smirk a little. 

Minkyung has to admit, she’s a little jealous of Yaebin’s house. There’s a lot more space than her tiny apartment, where her and Kyungwon constantly argue over tiny fractions of space to work on various projects. She could imagine herself painting on Yaebin’s floor, able to spread everything out and focus on some new masterpiece. 

Yaebin twirls around as they stand in her living room. 

“Welcome to my humble abode.” 

There’s a definite cozy feeling—house plants everywhere (some which look like they haven’t been watered in a while), a television set that looks like it might’ve been stolen from the dump, a record player accompanied by speakers and a huge shelf full of records, some mildewy and some still in their plastic shrink wrap. 

Wonwoo ducks out of sight without saying anything, heading into another room and closing the door. 

Minkyung nervously shuffles over to the couch, starting to remove her laced-up Doc Martens. 

“Did you get here okay? I can, um, take your coat.” Yaebin says. 

Minkyung shuffles out of her coat and makes eye contact as she hands it off. Yaebin is smiling, but she looks nervous too. 

“Uh, yeah, it was fine. This is a really nice neighborhood.” 

“Do you want something to drink?”

“Water?”

Yaebin nods, moving to the kitchen, leaving Minkyung to sit and stare at all the other details of the living room—a guitar leaning against the couch arm, a cold half-full cup of coffee on the table, the stacks of textbooks by the window. How many people even live here? She can hear Yaebin humming from the kitchen, barely masked by the sound of running water. 

Yaebin comes back in, handing her the glass with a little grin. 

“Let me put some music on.” Yaebin kneels next to the shelf of records, tugging at some colorful covers, brows furrowed as she tries to figure out what to play. “Anything you want?”

“Ah, no.” Minkyung smiles a little bit. “You pick. I really don’t have an interesting music taste. I bet you could pick far better.” 

“You don’t even know me.” Yaebin replies, kind of sheepish as she pulls a record out of its sleeve, lifting the plastic cover over the record player and placing it down. Minkyung watches her pinch the needle between two fingers, tongue flitting between her lips as she focuses on lining it up just right before she drops it. She’s kind of adorable, all focused like that. She breathes out a sigh of relief as a gentle guitar strum breaks from the speakers, and smiles proudly. Minkyung doesn’t know Yaebin at all, but for some reason, she can just sense that she’s someone who cares, who really tries to put tenderness and effort into things. She admires that. 

“Do you study music?” she asks, partially from a need to get a conversation going, partially from genuine curiosity. 

Yaebin plops down on the couch.
“I’m a creative writing major.”

“Oh! Really? What do you write?”

“Stupid poetry, mostly. And some stories, and stuff, sometimes. What do you study?”
“Painting.”

Yaebin gasps.
“Can I see? Your work, I mean.”

“Oh, sure.” Minkyung digs her phone from her pants pocket, and Yaebin eagerly scoots over. “It’s like portrait work and stuff, and some abstract things too. I’m trying to experiment right now.” She finds the only piece she’s been proud of lately, a self portrait in muted ceruleans and azures. 

“I see you’re in your blue period right now.” Yaebin chuckles. She pauses, and reaches over, using her fingers to tap on Minkyung’s screen to zoom in. “You’re really good! The detail on this is amazing!”

“Thanks!” Minkyung says, as normally as she can muster. Yaebin’s really close, and their arms are brushing together. It should be fine, but for some reason, it makes Minkyung’s heart get all twisty. “What about your poetry?” she asks. 

Yaebin leans back, breaking eye contact. 

“Ah, it’s nothing. It’s sort of stupid. I don’t really… show it to everyone.”

“It’s ok, I get it. When you’re comfortable, I’d love to read some.” Minkyung gives Yaebin a hopeful smile. “I’d really like to get to know more of you.” she adds. Are her palms sweating? Her palms might be sweating. 

“Noted.” Yaebin replies, giving that big smile again. Then—it falters. “Sorry if I’m acting weird.” she stutters out.

“No, you’re not.” Minkyung hastily replies. “I’m sorry if I am, I’m just not used to making new friends. And you’re really cool. I’m just awkward.” She gives Yaebin her best smile. “I mean…” she pauses. “We’ve already been, um, pretty intimate, huh? So, like, we’re already past that point.” She laughs, and finds the back of her neck heating up in embarrassment.

Yaebin looks flustered. 

“Yeah, actually, you’re right. I guess we did… you know.”

“Kiss?” Minkyung says, a weird sense of confidence rising in her stomach. There’s something in her that enjoys seeing Yaebin flustered. A little smirk spreads across her cheek, and Yaebin laughs. “Are you playing another show anytime soon?” Minkyung asks, the music in the room swelling with some female singer’s melodic voice.  

“This Friday. Tomorrow, I mean. We play at house shows almost every Friday.”

“Wow. Cool. What’s your name?”

“My name?” Yaebin stares at her, confusion all across her face. “Yaebin? I guess.”

“No, silly.” Minkyung laughs, placing a hand on Yaebin’s thigh (and pretends she doesn’t feel Yaebin slightly jump at the touch). “Your band name.” 

“Oh! White Rabbit.”

“White Rabbit. That feels fitting. You’re sort of rabbit-like yourself.” Minkyung says, looking at Yaebin’s little nose. 

“Eunwoo always says that.” Yaebin huffs, crossing her arms, but she’s grinning. 

 

••• 

 

Yaebin doesn’t really know why they decided to smoke, but it happened. It was partially because of the story she had told Minkyung about Eunwoo trying to make a bong in their ceramics class, one that had Minkyung doubling over with laughter (and God, she had the best laugh), and now they were here. Sitting on Yaebin’s front porch, passing a joint back and forth, swinging on the porch swing while a record plays muffled from inside the house. 

Yaebin is having kind of a hard time. She’s having so much fun, it’s not like she’s miserable or anything, but she just keeps feeling things for Minkyung. She tries to chase that all away, think about non-romantic things like the burp Eunwoo let out a few nights ago during dinner or the terrible SoundCloud rap her cousin had sent her a month ago. Yet Minkyung keeps being so pretty, so sweet, so flirty—and it just makes Yaebin feel gross inside, like she’s creeping on some nice girl who just wants to be friends. When Minkyung’s hand brushes her knee or she stares at her intently to show that she’s listening, it’s not flirtation, she reminds herself.  It’s just friendship, and it’s honestly idiotic to assume two girls can’t just be friends. What is she, a straight guy?
“Do you smoke often?” Minkyung asks. 

Yaebin snaps back to reality, back to the girl right next to her. 

“Um, only when I’m stressed. I used to, a lot.” The fall sunset is lighting Minkyung’s face so beautifully. She looks even prettier than ever, but that’s probably just the weed talking. “Do you?”

“When I’m stressed… But I’m always stressed these days.” Minkyung slumps a bit in the swing, kicking her feet against the porch. “It makes me more, like, loose, you know?” She wiggles her arms around and Yaebin laughs. 

“It seems you’re pretty susceptible to the charms of . It takes way more hits for me.” 

Minkyung smirks. 

“Kyungwon says I’ll be a heroin addict one day.” 

“That would be a sight to see.” 

Minkyung passes the joint back to Yaebin. 

“What’s the dumbest thing you did high?” 

“Ordered like a hundred plastic crawdads online. They showed up a week later, and I was so confused. I don’t even know why I did it.” 

Minkyung bursts into another fit of laughter. 

“Oh my god, what did you even do with them?”

“Eunwoo and I started hiding them around school. We called ourselves the Crawdad Bandits. What’s yours?”

“For me? Good question. A couple months ago, Kyungwon and I snuck into school and spray-painted a on my ex-boyfriend’s painting. He had critique in the gallery the next day. It was horrible, he still doesn’t even know it was me.” 

Yaebin gapes, having no idea Minkyung could be so mischievous. 

“What!” 

“Yeah.” Minkyung covers with her hand. “It’s so terrible of me.”

“No, I bet he deserved it.”

Minkyung looks at her—is it lovingly, or are her pupils just big from the weed—and bites her lip. 

“He did.” she says, and she chuckles softly, looking past Yaebin’s head and out into the empty yard.

“So your biggest high mistake wasn’t kissing me then?’ Yaebin says, it spilling out before she can stop herself, immediate regret bringing hot shame to her whole body. “—I mean—I shouldn’t say that.” 

Minkyung’s mouth opens a little in surprise, then snaps shut. She hands the joint back to Yaebin. 

“It wasn’t a mistake.” she firmly says, looking right into Yaebin, like she can see past the irises and into the most intimate of Yaebin’s thoughts. “I’d do it again.” Then she leans in close, and Yaebin notices how heavily she’s breathing. She places a hand on Yaebin’s shoulder. “Right now, even.”