Minjeong comes home to a quiet room. She huffs a cold breath, quietly unpeeling her outer article of clothes piece by piece and hooking them onto the stand near the door. What a cold day it has been, especially now that the peak of winter is near. Thankfully she wore the knitted scarf her mom made for her today, otherwise the skin of her neck would be having a field day.

She’s used to coming home to a rather quiet environment, the only thing audible is the sound of the fish tank filter next to the television. Not hers though, the tank (and the contents, two koi fishes named Jimmy and Gil) belong to Aeri. Though in this time of year, the sound of the heater running in the background could also be heard. Finally, she dusts her coat off of some snow, hanging it along with her scarf, earmuffs, and jacket by the door. She breathes a sigh, what a nice feeling to finally be at home.

Minjeong rather carelessly throws her backpack to the recliner closest to the door as she takes off her sneakers (you take off your shoes in an Asian household, facts are facts), not really minding how the angle her bag ended up in would probably cause it to fall and do some irreparable damage to her laptop inside–’cause she just could not care enough to buy another laptop case after breaking her old acrylic one also by throwing it over the goddamn recliner,–all she care about right now is a good seven-hour nap to end her 9-to-5 class kind of day.

Sleep, what a luxury that activity has been. Especially for fifth-semester International Business Management student Kim Minjeong in this climate. 

She sinks down on the gray loveseat, clutching at (not) her sweater for some warmth since the cold weather is now slowly seeping in the living room. She makes a mental note to max the heater later when she’s close to dying of hypothermia. 

But then she hears the sound of keys jingling, it sounded like somebody was spewing curses and cries, having a hard time trying to fit the keys into the keyhole of the front door. That has been a problem since forever, maybe she should get that fixed. 

As the door opens, there Yu Jimin is in all her might and glory, and covered in a little bit of snow. She pads the snow off her coat, still humming to something she’s listening to in her Airpods Max. From the melody, Minjeong guesses she’s jamming to Toto. Both of them have been into old school music lately. 

Jimin has yet to acknowledge the glaring presence smiling amusedly on her loveseat, focusing on decluttering the particles of snow off her ponytail, overcoat an