The library was quiet, the quietest you could get in a school. The thickly padded carpet muffled the noisy footsteps that usually accompanied the loud students in the hallways. It was a place of silence and peace, and in one of the quiet corners of the library, a short blonde girl occupied the table and chair provided. A black blazer was draped across her chair; it bore a small name tag titled “Kim Taeyeon”.

She had her eyes closed and would have looked like she was deeply asleep if it weren’t for her fingertips slowly rubbing her weary temples. A little frown was apparent on her face, for her eyebrows headed downwards and creased her smooth, pale skin in between. On the cold wooden table there was a small laptop, or a netbook, rather, with a Word document open, only it was blank. Next to it laid a sheet of lined paper with a pencil placed on top of it. Contrary to the white nothingness of the Word document, the paper was marked and filled with many words; however, harsh lines drew themselves across the neat little characters, as though the author was unhappy about the ideas which she had taken the time to write.

“How hard is it to come up with a freakin’ story?” she grumbled to herself as her fingers continued to slowly massage her pained temples. She could only sit there, wondering why it was so difficult to produce an original, breath-taking, reader-reeling story, while at the same time, inwardly cursing all those who had already taken all of the good-sounding storylines.

“Argh! I can’t!” she raged. “My readers are gonna have to wait a while before I can come up with something good. Aigoo…”

She slammed the lid of the small netbook down, though quietly, and put it to sleep mode before she saw movement out of her peripherals. She looked up to see a beautiful, gorgeous, red-haired girl pulling out the opposite chair before the new arrival plopped down on the soft cushiony seat.

“Hey Taengoo~” she greeted happily as she flashed “Taengoo” a heart-stopping eye smile.

“Hey Fany-ah,” Taeyeon answered her half-heartedly. The girl was Tiffany Hwang, her best friend.

“Hey, what’s wrong? Why so down TaeTae?”

Taeyeon chuckled; the girl had so many nicknames for her.

“It’s nothing important, Fany-ah, don’t worry about it,” Taeyeon replied with a dismissive flick of the wrist.

“Come on, tell me!” Tiffany demanded as she laid a hand on Taeyeon’s wrist.

“Mmm… okay,” Taeyeon decided as she saw the determined expression on Tiffany’s angelic face. “I’m having trouble… writing.”

“Oh, our assignment?”

“No, not that. Story writing. Like, stories for other people to read,” Taeyeon said, minutely searching Tiffany’s beautiful features for a change in expression.

“Oh you mean like fanfiction?” Tiffany asked curiously. Taeyeon was a little taken aback; she hadn’t expected Tiffany to understand.

“Yeah… I didn’t know you were into that stuff,” Taeyeon said, relieved.

“Sometimes I read for fun,” the other girl smiled. “So this means you write, right? Can I read your stories?”

“No!” Taeyeon quickly burst out; she covered apologetically. “I’m sorry about that, but I’d be embarrassed if you read my things, Fany-ah.”

“Aw, please, TaeTae?” Tiffany pouted, showing Taeyeon her puppy eyes and sad, trembling lips. Taeyeon sighed.

“I can’t, Fany-ah, sorry.”

“Well, that’s okay,” Tiffany said. “What kind of stories do you write?”

“Well… romance…” Taeyeon blushed.

“Oooh really? Have you ever been in a relationship?”

“Well, no I haven’t,” Taeyeon admitted, “but I can imagine it, I guess.”

The pair sat there in silence, with Taeyeon staring at the younger girl while Tiffany seemed to be mulling things over in her head.

“You know, I think it’s much easier to write when you have your own experiences to base your stories on,” Tiffany said. “It’s harder to imagine something that never happened than to recall something in your memory, isn’t it?”

Taeyeon chuckled. “When did you become so wise, Ms. Hwang? That’s all well and good, but I haven’t been in any relationships, nor have I experienced any sort of romantic feelings for someone.”

“Then it might be a good idea if you tried it, no?”

Taeyeon stared at Tiffany strangely when she heard the girl speak. “What kind of suggestion is that? You want me to go and date someone just so I can get out of this writer’s block thing? And then what, break up with them after?”

Tiffany gave Taeyeon an equally judging stare. “But if you had romantic feelings for them, would you break up with them?”

“… I can’t really answer that because I don’t know what it feels like. But I suppose my answer would be no, I wouldn’t.”

“Then my idea is perfectly great, isn’t it? It’s a good time for you to start dating, and you also get the benefits of knowing what and how to write.”

Taeyeon snorted. “Fine, let’s just say I’ll start dating someone now. I have no idea how to hook up with someone, and I don’t think I particularly like anyone now.”

“Not even me, TaeTae?” Tiffany pouted, her eyes wide with dramatic sadness.

“I guess I like you, just a tiny bit, Miyoung-ah,” Taeyeon snickered, and she felt the pain as Tiffany slapped her arm.

“Anyway, I know someone I could suggest to you as a date,” Tiffany continued as though her Korean name had never been mentioned.

“Oh really? And who is this lucky person that gets to have the honour of me as a potential date?” Taeyeon grinned as she wiggled her eyebrows. Tiffany rolled her eyes at Taeyeon’s obvious conceitedness before she continued on.

“Me.”

“Great! Where are we going?”

“…Huh?” Tiffany was dumbfounded. She didn’t expect such a nonchalant response.

“You just asked me out, right? So what’s happening?” Taeyeon asked casually, smiling as though she understood an unknown joke.

“You do know I was being serious, right? I’m really asking you out, Taeyeon-ah.”

A heavy pause lay in the air. Tiffany sighed; she knew things might’ve gotten awkward between them. She hadn’t exactly planned on confessing like this either, but the moment had presented itself and she had taken it. Now all she had to do was find out if her risk paid off.

“…Wow,” Taeyeon uttered, and Tiffany observed her carefully for any sign of disgust or contempt, but saw none. Instead, she saw something resembling wonder. “You weren’t kidding? You actually like me?”

Tiffany nodded slowly, afraid to suddenly see judgement arise on Taeyeon’s features. “Are you… are you disgusted?”

“No, no, not at all. Should I be?”

“I don’t know either. I mean, I’m a girl, and you’re a girl, and I’ve just… well, pretty much confessed to you…”

“I didn’t know how I would feel, but I suppose I don’t really care about the whole gender thing, y’know? And besides, even I know you’re one of the prettiest people in this school, Fany. And you should stop looking at me like I’m going to hit you or something, because I’m not going to and it’s a little scary.”

Tiffany immediately looked away in embarrassment. “Sorry! I just didn’t think you were going to take it so well, that’s all.”

She felt a pair of warm hands cover her own and she looked up to see Taeyeon gazing at her cutely. “Come on, don’t be afraid of me. I thought I was supposed to be the inexperienced one, Miyoung-ah? Now, let me pack up my stuff and we can go do something. Maybe go on that date, just so I can have some writing material.”

“You know, this whole confessing thing has just given me an idea for a oneshot,” Taeyeon remarked. “Maybe my readers would enjoy it. Thank you, Fany-ah.”

She grinned slowly as Taeyeon’s words began to sink in. She watched the shorter girl carefully packing her things into her bag. Sure, Taeyeon hadn’t explicitly said that she liked Tiffany, but at this moment, it was more than enough to know that the other girl accepted her for who she was and who she liked, and she earned herself a reproving glare from the librarian as she practically skipped out of the library, unable to contain herself.

The best part about it was that she was able to call the cute girl next to her “mine”, and as if Taeyeon could read the other’s mind, she quietly slipped her hand into Tiffany’s and squeezed it gently as they walked out of the school to start a fresh new relationship.