Chapter Text
Jeong Hayeon was a lie.
She was a very loud, very convincing, very well-constructed lie. To the rest of the student body at Hanlim Arts High School, Hayeon was the definition of an extrovert. She was the atmosphere maker. She was the one who could walk into a silent room and have everyone laughing within thirty seconds. She was tactile, affectionate, and incapable of keeping her hands to herself.
"Lynn-unnie!"
HaYeon threw herself across the row of desks, draping her entire body weight over Kawakami Lynn. Lynn didn't even look up from her textbook. She just adjusted her shoulder slightly to support Hayeon’s weight, being the saint that she is, used to the intrusion.
"You're heavy," Lynn said, turning a page.
"I'm filled with love," Hayeon corrected, resting her chin on the top of Lynn’s head. She reached out and poked Joobin, who was sitting in the seat in front of them, scrolling through her phone. "Bin-ah, tell her I'm light as a feather."
Joobin turned around. Her expression was deadpan. She looked at Hayeon’s arms wrapped around Lynn’s neck, then at Hayeon’s face, which was currently squished against Lynn’s hair.
"You're a menace," Joobin said. "And you're wrinkling her blazer."
"You love me," Hayeon sang, releasing Lynn and hopping off the desk. She spun around, skirt swishing, and finger-gunned at a group of boys in the back who were staring. They blushed and looked away. Hayeon smiled.
It was easy. It was so incredibly easy to be this person. The "Kiss Monster." The energetic one. The girl who wasn't afraid of anything. It was a performance she had perfected since middle school. If you were loud enough, people didn't notice that you were actually terrified. If you hugged everyone, nobody noticed that you were actually desperately lonely.
Hayeon sat down in her own seat, the smile still plastered on her face like a sticker. She drummed her fingers on the wooden surface. Her heart was beating a little too fast, the way it always did after a burst of social energy. She needed to recharge.
She turned her head to the left.
And there, two rows over and one seat back, was the truth.
Kim Chaewon was asleep.
This wasn't exactly unusual. Chaewon could sleep anywhere. She was currently folded over her desk, her face buried in her arms, her long pink hair cascading down her back like a curtain. She looked like a pile of laundry. A very cute, very soft pile of laundry.
Hayeon felt the familiar itch in her fingers. It was a physical sensation, like static electricity building up under her skin. She wanted to walk over there. She wanted to poke Chaewon’s cheek until she woke up. She wanted to slide her hands into that curtain of hair and mess it up. She wanted to squeeze Chaewon until she made that funny, high-pitched squeak she only made when she was startled.
God, she was pathetic.
Hayeon forced herself to look away, opening her English notebook. She stared at the conjugation for ‘to deny’ without really seeing it.
The problem with Kim Chaewon was that she ruined Hayeon’s performance. With everyone else, Hayeon knew the script. Lynn tolerated her. Joobin stared at her like she was some sort of anomaly. The seniors thought she was cute. But Chaewon? Chaewon was just… slow.
Not stupid. Never stupid. Chaewon was actually quite sharp when she was awake. But her processing speed for social cues operated on a delay. It was as if she were an alien. If Hayeon teased her, Chaewon would just blink, process the sentence, and then look confused instead of offended. If Hayeon tried to be nice, Chaewon would look suspicious.
It made Hayeon panic. And when Hayeon panicked, the spikes came out.
"Okay, settle down," the homeroom teacher, Mr. Park, called out, clapping his hands. "Everyone in your seats. We have announcements before first period."
The classroom shuffled into order. Hayeon leaned back in her chair, twirling a pen. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Chaewon stir.
The alien woke up slowly. First, one hand emerged from the hair to rub at an eye. Then, Chaewon sat up, blinking blearily against the morning sunlight streaming through the window. There was a red mark on her cheek from the seam of her sweater sleeve.
Hayeon’s chest tightened. It was a painful, squeezing sensation. Cute. It was devastatingly cute.
Chaewon yawned, covering her mouth with the back of her hand. She looked around the room, disoriented, until her eyes landed on Hayeon.
For a second, they just looked at each other. Hayeon froze. This was the moment. This was the part where a normal person would smile. A normal friend, a "bestie" like they claimed to be would mouth ‘Good morning’ or make a funny face.
Chaewon smiled. It was small, sleepy, and soft. Her eyes crinkled at the corners.
Hayeon’s brain short-circuited. The affection was too much. It was a tidal wave, and she didn't have a surfboard. She was going to drown in the middle of homeroom. Her defense mechanisms kicked in automatically, bypassing her conscious thought.
Hayeon narrowed her eyes. She scrunched up her nose in an expression of exaggerated disgust. She mouthed a single word across the classroom gap:
Drool.
It was a lie. Chaewon wasn't drooling. But it worked.
Chaewon’s smile vanished. She immediately wiped at the corner of her mouth, looking panicked. She checked her hand, saw nothing, and then looked back at Hayeon with a furrowed brow. The softness was gone, replaced by self-consciousness. She pulled her hair forward to hide her face and turned toward the front of the room.
Hayeon let out a breath she didn't know she was holding. She slumped lower in her chair.
'You idiot', she thought viciously. You absolute coward.
Safe. She was safe again. Chaewon wasn't looking at her with those soft eyes anymore. Chaewon was annoyed. Annoyance was a safe distance. Annoyance meant Hayeon didn't have to deal with the terrifying reality that she wanted to walk over there and kiss the red mark on Chaewon’s cheek.
"Hayeon-unnie," Joobin whispered from behind her.
Hayeon jumped, dropping her pen. She scrambled to pick it up, grateful for the distraction. She turned around, flashing her brightest, fakest grin. "What's up, Bin-ah? Miss me already?"
Joobin wasn't smiling. She was looking at Hayeon with that scary, observant gaze she sometimes had. "Why are you like this?"
"Like what?" Hayeon asked, blinking innocently. "I'm delightful."
"You were staring at Chaewon-unnie like you wanted to eat her, and then you made a face like you smelled garbage," Joobin whispered. "It's weird. Stop it."
"I wasn't staring," Hayeon hissed, her voice dropping. "She had sleep crust in her eye. It was gross. I was helping her."
"You're a bad liar," Joobin said simply. She leaned back as Mr. Park started talking about the upcoming midterms. "Just admit you like her and get it over with."
"I don't like her," Hayeon shot back, turning around to face the front. Her cheeks felt hot. "She's just... squishy. And slow. It's annoying."
The morning classes dragged on. Hayeon spent most of Math trying to focus on quadratic equations, but her attention kept drifting. Every time Chaewon shifted in her seat, Hayeon noticed. Every time Chaewon tucked her hair behind her ear, Hayeon noticed.
At one point, Chaewon dropped her eraser. It rolled across the floor, stopping near the aisle. Chaewon stared at it for a long moment, as if calculating the energy required to retrieve it.
Hayeon was out of her seat before she realized what she was doing. She walked over, scooped up the eraser, and slammed it down on Chaewon’s desk.
The sound made Chaewon jump. She looked up, eyes wide and startled.
"You're so lazy," Hayeon said, her voice louder than she intended. The class was noisy with group work, but a few people glanced over. "It's literally two steps away. Are your legs broken?"
Chaewon stared at the eraser, then up at Hayeon. "Thanks, Hayeon."
She didn't sound sarcastic. She sounded sincere.
Hayeon felt the prickle of guilt again. Why couldn't Chaewon just be mean back? If Chaewon fought back, it would be a game. They could banter. It would be equal. But Chaewon just took it, absorbing Hayeon’s sharp edges with frustrating patience.
"Whatever," Hayeon muttered. "Next time get it yourself."
She marched back to her desk, feeling Joobin’s eyes boring into the back of her skull.
Hayeon sat down and gripped her pencil so hard her knuckles turned white. She hated this. She hated the way her heart did a traitorous little flip every time Chaewon spoke to her, even when she was being awful.
She remembered reading about the Hedgehog’s Dilemma in a philosophy book she’d picked up to look smart in a performative way. It was a metaphor about intimacy. Hedgehogs want to share heat in the winter, so they move close to each other. But if they get too close, they prick each other with their spines. So they move apart and get cold again. They spend their whole lives shuffling back and forth, trying to find the perfect distance where they are warm but not hurt.
Hayeon felt like she was stuck in the "apart" phase. She was freezing. But every time she tried to get close, she panicked and deployed her quills.
It’s for her own good, Hayeon rationalized. If I was nice, she’d realize I’m obsessed with her. That’s weird. That’s creepy. It’s better if she thinks I’m just a little bit of a jerk.
The bell for lunch rang, cutting through her thoughts. The classroom instantly dissolved into chaos as thirty teenagers simultaneously decided they were starving. Chairs scraped, bags zipped, and voices rose in a cacophony of relief.
"Lunch!" Lynn announced, appearing at Hayeon’s desk. "Let's go. They have pork cutlet today."
"Coming," Hayeon said, standing up. She automatically glanced toward Chaewon’s desk.
Chaewon was moving slowly, packing her books into her bag with methodical precision. She looked lonely. Hayeon felt the urge again. The magnetic pull to go over there, grab Chaewon’s arm, and drag her to the cafeteria.
Just ask her, a voice in her head whispered. Just say, 'Hey Chaewon, sit with us.'
Hayeon took a breath. She could do this. She practiced the sentence in her head. Chaewon-ah, let's go. Simple. Casual. Cool.
She took a step toward Chaewon’s desk.
Chaewon looked up. She saw Hayeon approaching and paused, holding a pink carton of strawberry milk she had just pulled from her bag.
"Hayeon?" ChaeWon asked.
HaYeon froze. The script in her head vanished. All she could see was the strawberry milk and Chaewon’s questioning gaze.
"What?" Hayeon snapped, the defensive tone slipping out before she could catch it. "Why are you looking at me like that?"
The moment hung in the air, fragile and sharp. Hayeon wanted to scream. She wanted to rewind time five seconds and try again. But the words were out, and the quills were up.
Chaewon blinked. The sudden aggression clearly caught her off guard. She didn't retreat immediately, though. That was the thing about Kim Chaewon. She was slow to anger, slow to judge, and confusingly persistent.
She held the pink carton of strawberry milk out a little further, bridging the gap between their desks.
"I just wanted to give you this," Chaewon said. Her voice was quiet, barely audible over the scraping of chairs and the chatter of students rushing to the cafeteria. "It was buy-one-get-one-free at the convenience store this morning. I thought you might like it."
Hayeon stared at the carton. It was such a small, innocent object. A little cardboard box with a cheerful strawberry mascot on the front. Condensation beaded on the sides, promising cold, sweet relief.
Inside Hayeon’s chest, a war was raging.
Take it, the soft part of her brain pleaded. Take it and say thank you. Say, 'Wow, Chaewon, that's so nice of you.' Touch her hand when you grab it. Maybe your fingers will brush against hers. Maybe she'll smile again.
But the panic was louder. The panic screamed that this was a trap. If she took the milk, it meant admitting she liked something Chaewon gave her. It meant acknowledging that Chaewon had thought about her outside of school hours. It meant vulnerability.
And vulnerability was terrifying.
Hayeon’s lip curled. It was a reflex, a muscle memory she had honed to perfection.
"Strawberry milk?" Hayeon scoffed. She put a hand on her hip, leaning away as if the carton were radioactive. "Are you serious? That stuff is basically just sugar and red dye. It’s for elementary schoolers."
Chaewon’s hand faltered. The carton lowered an inch. "Oh. I didn't know you didn't like it."
"I don't like it," Hayeon lied. She loved strawberry milk. She drank it almost every day. In fact, she had a stash of empty cartons in her room because she was too lazy to recycle them. "It's gross. It makes your breath smell weird."
The insult landed. Hayeon saw it happen. Chaewon’s expression didn't crumble, but it dimmed. The light in her eyes went out, replaced by a dull, resigned acceptance. She pulled her hand back, tucking the rejected milk against her chest.
"Okay," Chaewon said softly. "Sorry. I'll just... drink it later then."
She turned away, grabbing her lunch bag and sliding out of her seat. She didn't look back at Hayeon. She just walked toward the door, her shoulders slightly hunched, disappearing into the hallway crowd.
Hayeon stood frozen by her desk. Her heart was pounding a frantic rhythm against her ribs.
Good job, she thought bitterly. You really showed her. You protected yourself from the terrifying threat of... a free beverage.
"Wow," a voice said from behind her. "You are actually the worst."
Hayeon spun around. Lynn was standing there, arms crossed over her chest, shaking her head. Jo Bin was right beside her, looking equally unimpressed.
"What?" Hayeon snapped, her voice cracking slightly. "I just don't want cavities."
"You literally ate a bag of gummies for breakfast," Lynn pointed out. "I watched you. You offered me the green ones because you said they taste like soap."
"That's different," Hayeon insisted, grabbing her own lunch bag with unnecessary force. "Gummies have texture. Milk is just... slop."
"You're lying," Joobin said calmly. She adjusted her glasses, peering at Hayeon with surgical precision. "You love strawberry milk. I saw you buying some yesterday at the vending machine near the gym."
Hayeon felt the heat rising in her neck. She was cornered. "Shut up. Let's just go eat. I'm starving."
She pushed past them, marching toward the door. She needed to escape. She needed noise and food and distractions. She needed to not think about the way Chaewon’s hand had lowered, the way her shoulders had slumped.
The cafeteria was a roar of sound. Trays clattering, students shouting, the smell of fried pork and kimchi filling the air. It was usually Hayeon’s favorite place. It was a stage where she could perform her "popular girl" role to perfection.
But today, the noise just felt like a headache.
They found a table near the windows. Hayeon sat down and aggressively stabbed her chopsticks into her rice. Lynn and Joobin sat opposite her, already deep in a conversation about the upcoming dance evaluation.
"I think we should do something contemporary," Lynn was saying. "Something with flow."
"Too boring," Joobin countered, opening her water bottle. "We need impact. Hip-hop or nothing."
Hayeon wasn't listening. Her eyes were scanning the room. It was automatic. A radar sweep.
Target located.
Chaewon was sitting three tables away. She was sitting with a couple of girls from the Applied Music department, but she wasn't really talking to them. She was eating slowly, her gaze fixed on her tray.
And there, sitting next to her plate, were two cartons of strawberry milk.
Hayeon watched, transfixed, as Chaewon picked up one of the cartons. She stabbed the little straw into the foil top with a satisfying pop. She took a sip, her cheeks puffing out slightly.
It was adorable. It was the cutest thing Hayeon had ever seen.
And that milk was supposed to be hers.
Jealousy, hot and irrational, flared in Hayeon’s stomach. It wasn't fair. She wanted to be the one drinking that milk. She wanted to be the reason Chaewon was smiling. But she was the one who had ruined it. She was nothing but the architect of her own misery.
"Hayeon," Lynn said, waving a hand in front of her face. "Earth to Hayeon."
Hayeon blinked, snapping her attention back to her friends. "What?"
"You're doing it again," Lynn said, sighing. "You're staring at Chaewon with that look on your face."
"What look?"
"The 'I want to bite her' look," Joobin supplied helpfully. "It's disturbing."
"I do not want to bite her," Hayeon protested, though she absolutely did. "I was just looking at... the window behind her. The sky is very blue today."
"It's overcast," Jo Bin said, gesturing to the grey clouds outside.
Hayeon groaned, dropping her forehead onto the table. "I hate you guys. Why are you my friends?"
"Because we find your suffering entertaining," Lynn said cheerfully, stealing a piece of pork from Hayeon’s tray. "And because without us, you'd probably be in prison for harassment."
Hayeon lifted her head, resting her chin on her hands. She looked back at Chaewon. The girl was laughing now, listening to something one of the vocal students said. It was a polite laugh, not her real one. Her real laugh was a little louder, a little messier. Hayeon knew the difference. She collected data on Chaewon’s laughs like rare trading cards.
"She offered me milk," Hayeon confessed quietly.
"We know," Joobin said. "We were there. You told her it was for toddlers."
"I panicked!" Hayeon whispered furiously. "She looked so nice. And her hand was so close. And I just... I couldn't deal with it. If I took it, I would have blushed. And if I blushed, she would know. And if she knows, it's game over."
"Why is it game over?" Lynn asked, genuinely confused. "Hayeon, look at you. You're pretty. You're talented. You're funny when you're not being a psycho. If you just told her you liked her, she'd probably say yes."
"She wouldn't," Hayeon said miserably. "She thinks I hate her. I've spent the last six months convincing her that I find her existence annoying. You can't just pivot from 'I hate you' to 'be my girlfriend.' That's emotional whiplash."
"So stop being mean," Joobin suggested. "Start small. Just... don't insult her for one day. See what happens."
"I can't," Hayeon said. "It's a reflex. It's the Hedgehog's Dilemma. I have spikes."
"You're not a hedgehog," Lynn rolled her eyes. "You're a chicken."
Hayeon glared at her, but she couldn't argue. She was a chicken. A chicken covered in spikes. A spiked chicken.
That was a terrifying image.
She looked back at Chaewon. The vocal girls were leaving. Chaewon was packing up her tray. She stood up, holding the second carton of strawberry milk. The one she had bought for Hayeon.
Hayeon watched as Chaewon walked toward the trash cans. She hovered there for a second, looking at the unopened carton. Then, with a small shrug, she tossed it into the recycling bin.
Hayeon felt a physical pang in her chest. It was a waste. A waste of milk, a waste of money, and a waste of a moment.
"I'm going to the bathroom," Hayeon announced abruptly, standing up.
"You haven't finished your rice," Lynn called after her.
"Lost my appetite," Hayeon muttered.
She didn't go to the bathroom. She walked out of the cafeteria and down the hallway, heading toward the vending machines near the gym, the ones Joobin had mentioned.
The hallway was empty. Everyone was still eating. Hayeon reached the machine and stared at the glowing selection. There it was. Row C, number 4. Strawberry milk.
She fumbled for her student ID card, tapped it against the sensor, and punched in the code. The machine whirred. The coil turned. The pink carton fell with a heavy thud.
Hayeon retrieved it. It was cold in her hand.
She leaned against the wall, sliding down until she was crouching on the floor. She poked the straw in and took a sip. It was sweet. Cloyingly sweet. Artificial strawberry flavor that coated her tongue.
"It is for kids," she whispered to the empty hallway.
But she drank the whole thing anyway, squeezing the carton until it was empty, trying to taste the ghost of the kindness she had thrown away.
The bell rang, signaling the end of lunch. Hayeon stood up, smoothed down her skirt, and tossed the empty carton into the bin. She took a deep breath, composing her face back into the mask of the confident, chaotic Jeong Hayeon.
She had afternoon classes with Chaewon. They had the group project meeting. She would have to face her again.
Don't be mean, she told herself firmly. Just be normal. Neutral. Boring. You can do boring.
She started walking back toward the classroom. As she turned the corner, she nearly collided with someone coming the other way.
It was Chaewon.
"Oh," Chaewon said, stepping back. She looked surprised to see Hayeon there. Her eyes darted to the vending machine behind Hayeon, then back to Hayeon’s face.
Hayeon froze. She could smell the faint scent of strawberry sweetness on her own breath. She realized, with horror, that a tiny drop of pink milk might be on her lip.
Chaewon stared at her. Her gaze dropped to Hayeon’s mouth, then back up to her eyes. A flicker of confusion crossed her face.
"Did you..." Chaewon started, then stopped. She shook her head. "Never mind."
"What?" Hayeon demanded, defensive immediately. "Get out of the way, you're blocking the hall."
Chaewon didn't move. She stepped closer, invading Hayeon’s personal space. She leaned in, sniffing the air delicately.
Hayeon stopped breathing. Chaewon was close. Too close. She could see the individual lashes on her eyes. She could see a tiny mole on her neck.
"You smell like strawberries," Chaewon said quietly.
Hayeon’s brain flatlined.
"I do not," Hayeon denied, her voice an octave higher than usual. "It's... my perfume. It's new. It's very expensive."
Chaewon tilted her head. "You said you hated strawberry milk."
"I do!" Hayeon practically shouted. "I hate it! I despise it! I would rather drink... puddle water!"
Chaewon stared at her for a long, agonizing second. Then, the corner of her mouth twitched. Just a little.
"Okay," Chaewon said. "If you say so."
She stepped around Hayeon and continued down the hall, her pink hair swaying behind her.
Hayeon stood there, staring at the empty corridor. Her face was burning. She touched her lips.
She was doomed. She was absolutely, completely doomed.
.
.
.
The afternoon performance block was the only time Hayeon felt like she could breathe properly.
The Performance Hall was a massive, airy space with floor-to-ceiling mirrors on one wall and polished wood floors that squeaked under sneakers. It smelled like sweat, floor wax, and teenage ambition. This was where the "performance" of Jeong Hayeon actually matched the reality. When she danced, she didn't have to lie. She could just move.
"Five minutes to warm up!" the instructor, Ms. Lee, barked from the front of the room. She was a terrifying woman with perfect posture who could spot a lazy foot from across the campus.
Hayeon dropped into a split, pressing her chest to the floor. The stretch pulled at her hamstrings in a good way. It grounded her.
"You're tense," Lynn observed, sitting next to her in a butterfly stretch.
"I'm not tense," Hayeon grunted into the floor. "I'm focused."
"You're vibrating," Joobin added, leaning against the mirror. "Did the strawberry milk caffeine hit you?"
Hayeon shot up, glaring at Joobin. "Lower your voice. I told you, that was... a moment of weakness. It didn't happen."
"You smelled like a fruit basket," Joobin noted, checking her nails. "And Chaewon noticed."
"She didn't notice anything," Hayeon insisted, though the memory of Chaewon leaning in, sniffing her... made her ears burn again. "She's oblivious. She probably thought I was wearing strawberry lip balm or something."
"Do you wear strawberry lip balm?" Lynn asked.
"No. I wear cherry."
"Close enough," Joobin shrugged.
Across the room, Chaewon was stretching alone. She was wearing an oversized grey t-shirt tucked into black sweatpants. She looked small in the vast space. She was doing a simple hamstring stretch, her face serene, eyes closed.
Hayeon watched her in the mirror. She hated how peaceful Chaewon looked. How could she be so calm when Hayeon was over here fighting a one-woman war against her own hormones?
"Alright, listen up!" Ms. Lee clapped her hands, the sound echoing like a gunshot. "Gather round."
The class scrambled to their feet and formed a semi-circle. Hayeon made sure to stand between Lynn and Joobin, using them as human shields. Chaewon stood at the far end of the line, looking sleepy again.
"Tests are coming up," Ms. Lee announced, pacing the line. "And this semester, we are focusing on chemistry."
Hayeon felt a cold shiver go down her spine. She didn't like that word.
"Technique is important," Ms. Lee continued. "But if you cannot connect with your partner, you are just a robot moving to a beat. You need tension. You need narrative. You need to make the audience believe you care about the person next to you."
"Partner?" someone whispered.
"Yes. Partner," Ms. Lee confirmed. She held up a clipboard. "I have already assigned your pairs. Do not ask to switch. I chose these pairings to challenge you."
Hayeon held her breath. Please be Lynn. Please be Joobin. Please be literally anyone else.
"Kim Chaeyeon and Kotone," Ms. Lee read. "Solid technique, different styles. Make it work."
"Park Shion and Joo Bin."
Joobin pumped a fist silently. Shion was good. They would crush it.
"Kawakami Lynn and..." Ms. Lee paused, squinting at the list. "Kwak Yeonji."
Hayeon felt her shield disintegrate. Lynn gave her a sympathetic pat on the shoulder before moving to find Yeonji. Hayeon stood alone, exposed.
The list went on. Names were called. People moved. The group dwindled.
Hayeon did the math. There were only a few people left. She looked down the line.
There was a boy from the hip-hop track. There was a girl who specialized in traditional dance.
And there was Chaewon.
No, Hayeon thought. The universe isn't that cruel. The universe has a sense of humor, but it's not sadistic.
"And finally," Ms. Lee said, looking up from the clipboard. Her eyes landed on Hayeon. Then they slid over to Chaewon. A small, unreadable smile touched the teacher's lips.
"Jeong Hayeon and Kim Chaewon."
The silence in Hayeon’s head was deafening.
"The rest of you, find a space," Ms. Lee dismissed them. "Start brainstorming. I want a song choice by the end of the period."
Hayeon didn't move. She couldn't feel her legs. It was the Hedgehog’s Dilemma on steroids. She was being forced into a cage with the very thing she was trying to avoid pricking.
"Hayeon?"
She snapped out of her trance. Chaewon was standing in front of her. She held a notebook against her chest. She looked... hesitant.
"We're partners," Chaewon said. It wasn't a question.
Hayeon’s defense mechanisms rebooted instantly. She crossed her arms, tilting her chin up. "I heard. Just my luck."
Chaewon blinked. "Is that bad?"
"It means I have to carry the performance," Hayeon scoffed. It was a lie. Chaewon was a good dancer. She had a clean, fluid style that Hayeon secretly admired. But admitting that would be fatal. "I hope you can keep up. I don't want to fail because you're too busy sleeping standing up."
"I'm awake," Chaewon said mildly. "What song should we do?"
"Nothing cute," Hayeon shot back immediately.
"Why not?"
"Because," Hayeon stepped closer, trying to intimidate her. "I have a reputation. I don't do 'cute.' I don't do 'bubbly.' If you want to wave your hands around and smile, do it on your own time."
"Okay," Chaewon said. She didn't look intimidated. She just looked thoughtful. "So... hip-hop?"
"Something powerful," Hayeon decided. She needed a concept that required aggression. Aggression was safe. If they were dancing angrily, she didn't have to look at Chaewon with soft eyes. She could glare. Glaring was easy.
"How about 'Rising'?" Chaewon suggested. "The chorus is fast. It has footwork."
Hayeon paused. 'Rising' was good. It was cool. It was energetic.
"Fine," Hayeon agreed. "But we're changing the formation. I'm taking center for the bridge."
"Okay."
"And I'm doing the cool parts."
"Okay."
"And don't look at me during the ending pose."
Chaewon frowned. "Why?"
"Because you'll mess me up," Hayeon snapped. "Just... look at the audience. Or the floor."
They found a corner of the studio. The mirrors reflected them back: Hayeon, tense and wired, bouncing on the balls of her feet. Chaewon, still and calm, watching Hayeon with that maddeningly patient expression.
"Let's mark it," Hayeon ordered. "Five, six, seven, eight."
They started moving.
It was annoying how well they fit together. Their heights were compatible. Their energy levels were different, in that Hayeon was explosive, Chaewon was smooth, but they balanced each other out. It was the kind of chemistry Ms. Lee was talking about.
But it was torture for Hayeon.
Every time they crossed paths in the formation, she could smell Chaewon’s shampoo. Every time they had to synchronize a turn, she was hyper-aware of Chaewon’s breathing.
"Stop!" Hayeon yelled, cutting the music on her phone.
Chaewon stopped mid-spin, looking confused. "What? Did I mess up?"
"You're doing it wrong," Hayeon lied. "Your arm angle is lazy. It needs to be sharper. Like this."
She marched over to Chaewon. She reached out to correct Chaewon’s arm.
Her fingers wrapped around Chaewon’s wrist.
The contact was electric. Chaewon’s skin was warm. Her pulse was beating steadily under Hayeon’s thumb.
Hayeon froze. She should let go. She had corrected the angle. There was no reason to keep holding on.
Chaewon looked down at Hayeon’s hand, then up at her face. "Is this right?"
"Yeah," Hayeon croaked. She cleared her throat, trying to sound authoritative. "Yeah. Just... hold it there. Don't be floppy."
She snatched her hand back as if she’d been burned. She shoved her hands into her pockets to stop them from shaking.
"Again," Hayeon barked. "From the top."
They practiced for another hour. By the end, they were both sweating. Hayeon’s hair was sticking to her forehead. Chaewon’s face was flushed pink.
"Good work," Joobin said, wandering over with a bottle of water. "You guys actually looked... competent."
"We were okay," Hayeon said dismissively, wiping her face with a towel. "Chaewon needs to work on her stamina though."
Chaewon was sitting on the floor, leaning back on her hands, catching her breath. She looked up at Hayeon. She didn't look offended. She looked... amused?
"You're a harsh teacher," Chaewon said.
"I'm a perfectionist," Hayeon corrected. "There's a difference."
"Hayeon," Chaewon said.
"What?"
"Your shoe is untied."
Hayeon looked down. Her left sneaker lace was indeed dragging on the floor.
"Oh."
Before Hayeon could bend down, Chaewon moved. She leaned forward from her sitting position. She reached out and grabbed Hayeon’s shoelace.
"What are you doing?" Hayeon demanded, jumping back a step.
"Tying it," Chaewon said simply. "You'll trip."
"I can do it myself!"
"I'm already down here," Chaewon pointed out. She tugged the lace gently. "Come here. Stop moving."
Hayeon stopped moving. She stood there, rigid as a statue, while Kim Chaewon, the girl she had spent the last six months aggressively pushing away... tied a perfect bow on her sneaker.
Chaewon’s fingers brushed against Hayeon’s ankle. It was a fleeting touch, barely there, but it sent a shockwave all the way up to Hayeon’s heart.
Chaewon finished and patted Hayeon’s foot. "Done."
She looked up. From this angle, looking down at Chaewon, Hayeon felt dizzy. Chaewon’s eyes were big and dark and devastatingly pretty.
"Thanks," Hayeon whispered. The snark failed to materialize. The quills were stuck.
"You're welcome," Chaewon smiled.
"Okay!" Hayeon shouted, clapping her hands so loudly that Joobin jumped. "Practice over! I'm leaving! Bye!"
She grabbed her bag and sprinted for the door. She didn't look back. If she looked back, she would crumble. She would turn into a puddle of mush right there on the dance floor.
She burst out into the hallway, gasping for air.
"She tied my shoe," Hayeon whispered to the empty locker bank. "She tied my shoe."
It was a disaster. It was a catastrophe.
She was so in love it was going to kill her.
.
.
.
The bus stop outside Hanlim Arts High School was a bleak place in February. The wind cut through the streets of Songpa-gu with personal vendetta, whipping hair into faces and turning noses a bright, Rudolph red.
Hayeon stood huddled inside her long white padding coat, looking like a grumpy marshmallow. She had her earphones in, blasting thrash metal to drown out the sound of her own racing heart.
She tied my shoe.
The thought looped in her brain like a broken chorus. It wasn't just the act. It was the way Chaewon had done it. Without asking. Without hesitation. Kneeling on the dirty studio floor just because she didn't want Hayeon to trip.
"Stupid," Hayeon muttered, kicking a pebble into the street. "She's so stupid. Who does that?"
She turned the volume up. The thrashing guitars usually calmed her down. They made her feel tough. They made her feel like a jagged rock that nothing could hurt. But today, even James Hetfield couldn't drown out the memory of Chaewon’s warm fingers brushing her ankle.
A shadow fell over her.
Hayeon stiffened. She knew that silhouette. She knew the slope of those shoulders and the way the backpack hung slightly lower on the left side.
She refused to look. She stared steadfastly at the bus schedule, pretending to be deeply interested in the arrival time of the 3012.
"Hayeon," a voice said.
Hayeon didn't move. She pointed to her earphones, signaling ‘I can't hear you, go away.’
A hand reached out and gently pulled one earbud out.
"Hayeon," Chaewon repeated. She wasn't shouting. She was just standing there, wrapped in a black coat that looked two sizes too big, a grey scarf wound tightly around her neck.
Hayeon snatched the earbud back. "What? Can't you see I'm listening to something educational?"
"You're listening to metal," Chaewon noted. "I can hear the screaming from here."
"It's... music theory," Hayeon lied. "Complex time signatures. You wouldn't get it."
Chaewon didn't argue. She just stepped into the line next to Hayeon. Not too close. Just close enough that her sleeve brushed against Hayeon’s padding with a soft swish.
"You forgot this," Chaewon said.
She held out a water bottle. It was Hayeon’s. The purple one with the stickers all over it.
Hayeon stared at it. She had left it in the practice room during her dramatic exit.
"I didn't forget it," Hayeon said, crossing her arms. "I left it there on purpose. It was... heavy. I was lightening my load."
"It's empty," Chaewon pointed out. "It weighs like, ten grams."
"Every gram counts when you're an athlete," Hayeon shot back.
Chaewon sighed. It was a small, white puff of air in the cold. She didn't withdraw her hand. She just stood there, holding the bottle out, waiting. Her fingers were pink from the cold.
Hayeon felt the familiar prick of guilt. It was sharp and annoying.
Just take the stupid bottle.
Hayeon snatched it. "Fine. Whatever. Give me that."
"You're welcome," Chaewon said.
"I didn't say thank you," Hayeon muttered, stuffing the bottle into her bag. "You should have just thrown it away. Or kept it. I don't care."
"Why would I throw it away?" Chaewon asked genuinely. "It's yours."
Hayeon didn't have an answer for that. She didn't have an answer for why Chaewon was so relentlessly decent. It was exhausting. It was like trying to fight a cloud. You swung your fist and just went right through, looking like an idiot.
The bus rolled up, groaning and squeaking. It was packed. Rush hour traffic meant the aisles were full of students and tired salarymen.
Hayeon pushed her way on, scanning for seats. There were none. They would have to stand.
She grabbed a handle near the back door. Chaewon followed, squeezing in beside her as the doors hissed shut. The bus lurched forward with a violent jerk.
Chaewon stumbled. She fell right into Hayeon.
Hayeon caught her. It was instinct. Her arm shot out, wrapping around Chaewon’s waist to steady her. For a second, they were pressed together, chest to chest, padding to padding.
Chaewon looked up. Her eyes were wide. "Sorry. The driver is aggressive."
Hayeon felt like her skin was on fire. She shoved Chaewon back to a vertical position, perhaps a little harder than necessary.
"Stand properly," Hayeon hissed. "Do you have zero core strength? We just practiced for two hours."
"I lost my balance," Chaewon defended, grabbing the strap above her head.
"Excuses," Hayeon grumbled. She turned her body slightly, creating a wall between them. "Just... don't fall on me again. You're heavy."
"You called me light earlier," Chaewon said.
Hayeon froze. "What?"
"In homeroom," Chaewon said. "When you were hugging Lynn. You told Joobin to tell her you were light as a feather. So I can't be heavy."
Hayeon’s brain stalled. Chaewon had heard that? Chaewon had been awake?
"I was joking," Hayeon said quickly. "I'm extremely dense. Muscle mass. You wouldn't understand."
The bus turned a corner, swaying dangerously. The crowd shifted. A man with a briefcase stumbled back, pushing Chaewon.
Chaewon was forced against Hayeon again. This time, there was nowhere to go. They were wedged together by the crush of bodies. Chaewon’s back was pressed against Hayeon’s chest. Hayeon could smell the shampoo again. It was floral. Maybe jasmine? Or cherry blossom?
It was torture.
Hayeon stood there, gripping the handle so hard her knuckles turned white. She tried not to breathe. She tried to make herself as small as possible, which was hard in a puffer coat.
Chaewon seemed unbothered. She was looking out the window, watching the grey city blur by. But then, Hayeon felt it.
Chaewon shivered.
It was subtle. Just a tremor running through her frame. Then another one.
Hayeon looked down. Chaewon’s coat was open. She wasn't wearing a scarf. The school blazer was thin.
She's cold.
The Hedgehog’s Dilemma presented itself again.
Option A: Ignore it. Stay safe. Let Chaewon freeze.
Option B: Do something about it. Get close. Risk everything.
Hayeon gritted her teeth. She hated Option A. Option A made her feel like a villain.
"You're shaking," Hayeon accused, speaking directly into the back of Chaewon’s head.
Chaewon turned slightly. "It's a little cold in here."
"It's freezing," Hayeon corrected. "Why is your coat open? Are you trying to get pneumonia? Do you want to miss the project so I have to do all the work?"
"The zipper is stuck," Chaewon said. "It got caught on the lining this morning."
Hayeon stared at her. "And you just... left it?"
"I was running late."
"You are unbelievable."
Hayeon let go of the handle. The bus swayed, but she planted her feet.
"Turn around," Hayeon ordered.
"What?"
"Turn. Around."
Chaewon shuffled around to face her. The space was tight. Their noses were inches apart.
Hayeon grabbed the lapels of Chaewon’s coat. She found the zipper. It was indeed jammed, a piece of fabric chewed up in the teeth.
"You're helpless," Hayeon muttered. "If I wasn't here, you'd probably freeze to death and haunt me."
"Probably," Chaewon agreed softly. She was watching Hayeon’s face. Her gaze was steady, calm, and terrifyingly perceptive.
Hayeon focused entirely on the zipper. She tugged it down, worked the fabric loose with her fingernails, and then zipped it back up. She pulled it all the way to the top, right under Chaewon’s chin.
"There," Hayeon said, smoothing the front of the coat with a little slap. "Now you look like a sausage."
Chaewon looked down at the zipper, then back up at Hayeon. A smile tugged at her lips. A real one this time. Not the polite one.
"Thanks, Hayeon."
"Don't thank me," Hayeon snapped, grabbing the handle again and turning away. "I just don't want you getting sick and coughing on me. It's hygiene."
"Right. Hygiene."
They stood in silence for the rest of the ride. But the silence felt different now. It wasn't icy. It was... charged.
When the bus reached Chaewon’s stop, she pushed the button.
"See you tomorrow," Chaewon said.
"Unfortunately," Hayeon replied, looking at the ceiling.
Chaewon stepped off the bus. As the doors closed, Hayeon watched her through the window. Chaewon stood on the sidewalk, wrapped in her coat, looking small and soft against the winter grey.
She waved.
Hayeon didn't wave back. She waited until the bus pulled away, putting safe distance between them. Then, and only then, did she let her forehead drop against the cold glass of the window.
She groaned. A long, pathetic sound of despair.
"I'm in so much trouble," she whispered.
She pulled her phone out. The group chat ‘tom & jerry + st. kawakami’ was active.
Hayeon: I need to transfer schools.
Lynn: What did you do now?
Joobin: Did you bite her?
Hayeon: She tied my shoe. And then I zipped up her coat. And she smiled at me.
Lynn: Oh my god.
Joobin: Disgusting.
Lynn: So when is the wedding?
Hayeon: SHUT UP. I was just preventing hypothermia! It was a medical intervention!
Joobin: Sure. You're a regular doctor. Dr. Love.
Hayeon locked her phone and shoved it into her pocket. She hated them. She hated winter. She hated zippers.
She got off at her stop and walked the rest of the way home. Her house was warm, smelling of dinner. She kicked off her shoes in the entryway.
She looked down at her left sneaker.
The bow Chaewon had tied was still there. It was perfectly symmetrical. Tighter than Hayeon usually tied them.
Hayeon reached down to untie it so she could take the shoe off. Her fingers hovered over the loops.
She hesitated.
"It's just a knot," she told herself. "It's just string."
But she couldn't do it.
With a frustrated sigh, she jammed the toe of her other foot against the heel and pried the sneaker off without untying it, leaving the bow intact. She set the shoes neatly by the door.
"You're a hedgehog," she whispered to the empty hallway, quoting the stupid book she hated. "You're a spiky, defensive, cowardly hedgehog."
But as she walked into the kitchen, she touched her own lips, remembering the phantom taste of strawberry milk and the smell of jasmine shampoo.
The dilemma was real. The closer she got, the more terrified she was of the prick. But for the first time, standing there in her socks, Hayeon wondered if maybe, just maybe, the warmth might be worth the blood.
She went to the fridge. She opened it.
There, on the middle shelf, sat a row of strawberry milk cartons.
Hayeon grabbed one. She pierced it with the straw and took a long, aggressive sip.
"Gross," she said to no one.
She finished it in three seconds.