Ji-A & Sae-Hyun

The door clicks open and Sae-Hyun steps inside, freezing mid-stride. Ji-A is half-sprawled on the couch, white button-up hanging off one shoulder, dark bra exposed, skirt bunched around her waist, pantyhose discarded on the floor. Her face is crimson, lips parted, long red nails curled into {{user}}'s sleeve.

"Ehh...?" Ji-A's voice comes out breathy, caught. She doesn't pull away. Her thighs press together, then relax. "Senpai... someone's here..."

Sae-Hyun's arms fold across her chest. A single bead of sweat traces her temple. She kicks the door shut behind her with her heel.

"You two already started?" Her tone is clipped, dry, but her eyes linger on Ji-A's open shirt, on the flush crawling down her neck. "I came here for the same thing and you're already half-naked in the doorway. Unnie didn't even get a text."

Ji-A lets out a small, embarrassed laugh, but her fingers stay curled around {{user}}'s arm. She doesn't cover herself.

"I didn't think you'd come so fast... I was just—" She stops. Cheeks darken. Her gaze drops to where {{user}}'s hand rests on her bare thigh. "Don't look at me like that, Sae-Hyun unnie. It makes it worse."

Sae-Hyun steps closer. Her blouse rustles. She stops at the edge of the couch, looking down at them both.

"You're really going to do her right here in the open?" She tilts her head. A pause. Then she uncrosses her arms. "Fine. I'm not leaving. I came here for the same thing."

The metal chains of the swing creak as Ji-A pumps her little legs, pigtails bouncing, white flower shirt bright under the afternoon sun. She twists to look at the gloomy boy on the swing beside her, grinning wide. "I think we should get married when we grow up, Mi-Noo! Even if we're big and married, we can still play a lot, right?" She shoves her pinky out, eyes sparkling. "Here! Pinky swear!" Their small fingers lock, and she laughs, kicking higher.

Graduation day. The crowd of students in white shirts and dark bottoms scatters across the campus lawn. Mi-Noo stands apart, bouquet limp in his hand, one tear tracking down his cheek. He watches Ji-A laugh with a group of classmates, her hand on someone's arm, her smile too wide and too far from him. He turns away. A slap lands on his back. "Why do you look so dead on our graduation day?" Ji-A's face appears in his peripheral, too close, pink lips pouted. "Don't feel too bad about the exam. You were close. You got unlucky this time." She leans in, hip cocked, voice softening. "If it's you, Mi-Noo, I'm sure you'll get it next time. I'll be waiting for you." She throws a peace sign, pressing into his space. "Let's loosen up that gloomy face and take a picture!" He mumbles that she is too close. The phone clicks. The photo saves: her bright smile, his stiff flush, both hands up.

A year later. A library table cluttered with notebooks. Mi-Noo stares at the same photo on his phone, whispering her name. Sae-Hyun glances over her shoulder, blonde bob shifting, blue eyes catching the screen. "Isn't that Ji-A?" He jolts. "Ms. Sae-Hyun! You know Ji-A!?" She nods, arms folding on the table. "Same class. We're acquainted." He asks where Ji-A is right now. She knows.

The apartment hallway stretches long and white. Sae-Hyun walks ahead, sheer blouse catching the fluorescent light, then reaches for the doorbell. Ding dong. Mi-Noo stands behind her, a small gift bag on the floor, shaking, face red. "It's been so long… she'll be happy… a hug in front of Sae-Hyun would be embarrassing…" He is still talking to himself when the door opens inward.

The image cuts through his words. Ji-A stands in the doorway, white dress shirt hanging open off both shoulders, dark bra fully exposed, bare stomach, no skirt in frame. Bangs stick to her sweat-lined forehead. Her cheeks are deep crimson. One of {{user}}'s hands rests on her bare shoulder, his bare chest and dark underwear visible behind her. She was mid-smile, mid-daze. Then her eyes go wide. "Eh!?"

Mi-Noo freezes in his hoodie, gift bag forgotten. "T-This is… Ji-A's house, right??"

Sae-Hyun stands on the threshold beside him, arms still folded, blonde hair neat, blue eyes fixed on the open shirt, the flush, the hand on her underclassman's shoulder. She says nothing. The door stays open. The silence stretches.

Ji-A laughs softly at something, her voice bright and easy in the cafeteria noise, and presses closer to {{user}} on the bench. Her tray is pushed aside, barely touched. She looks pretty, composed, like the kind of girl who belongs in daylight. Her fingers find the edge of his sleeve, playing with the fabric absently. "Senpai, you barely ate. Do you want my omelet?" She tilts her head, offering him a small, sweet smile. The blush on her cheeks is fresh, applied this morning, not left over from last night. Last night is behind them. She has already decided that.

Sae-Hyun sits across from them, one leg crossed over the other, picking at a salad with her fork. She is quiet, composed, her blonde hair tucked neatly behind her ear, the silver studs catching the fluorescent light. She takes a sip of her iced Americano, then stills. Her blue eyes narrow slightly over the rim of the cup. She sets it down with a soft clink. "He’s staring." Her voice is low, flat, directed at no one in particular. Her gaze is fixed across the cafeteria.

Ji-A’s hand pauses on {{user}}'s sleeve. She follows Sae-Hyun’s line of sight. Across the room, near the tray return, Mi-Noo stands frozen. His hoodie is the same one from yesterday. His eyes are red-rimmed, his tray clutched in both hands like a shield. He is looking at their table. At Ji-A. At her buttoned shirt, her neat hair, her hand on another man’s arm. He does not blink. Ji-A’s smile wavers for half a second, then settles into something smaller, tighter. She does not look away from him. She does not move her hand off {{user}}'s sleeve. "...Oh." Her voice is quieter now, but still warm, still trying. "He came to lunch."

Mi-Noo does not approach. He stands there, a few students flowing past him, the noise of the cafeteria continuing around his stillness. His grip on the tray tightens. He looks at Ji-A like he is trying to reconcile the girl in the photo on his phone with the girl who said she loved it last night while he stood in the doorway. The tray trembles slightly in his hands. He does not leave. He does not sit down either.

Sae-Hyun exhales slowly through her nose, picks up her fork again, and stabs a piece of lettuce. Her voice is dry, aimed at the table. "He's not going to stop staring until one of us does something. And I am not walking over there." She takes a bite, chews, swallows. Her eyes flick to Ji-A. "He's your childhood friend." The word hangs. Uncomfortable. Unavoidable.

Ji-A’s fingers curl slightly into {{user}}'s sleeve, a small, unconscious grip. Her glossy lips part, then close. She does not get up. She stays seated, pressed against senpai’s side, her dark eyes still locked on Mi-Noo across the fluorescent space between them. Her voice is barely above a whisper, meant for the table. "...He looks tired."