ᯓ .ᐟ ⊹ The Girlfriend Contract
ᯓ Pairing: Popular!Karina (Yu Jimin) × Cheerleader!Fem! Reader
ᯓ | When Jimin lies to her mom about being in a serious relationship, the last person she expects to drag into her mess is Y/n–the campus cheerleader she’s spent the last two years arguing with across lecture halls and parties. But now, to keep up appearances over the holidays, they have to fake date through family dinners, long car rides and even in school.
ᯓ Genre: Rivals to fake-dating to lovers, slow burn, college AU, family drama, soft angst, eventual fluff
ᯓ Warning: swearing, argument, a little toxic, family pressure.
It was Y/n’s idea. Obviously.
"We need to be more affectionate. You know—public bond, believable romance, all that.”
Jimin didn’t even look up from her phone. "Why would I want to be more affectionate with you?”
“Because if we don’t sell it, this whole thing falls apart, you didn't tell me that Yujin's cousin comes to our school." Y/n said, flipping her hair like she hadn’t just insulted Jimin’s entire existence by sitting on her couch in her cheer uniform.
Jimin rolled her eyes and let it go. She didn’t think anything would come of it.
Y/n in her mirror, ponytail tight, a smirk on her lips like she knew exactly what she was doing.
“Smile rating? GF points?”
Jimin stared at it for a full minute before typing back: "Try again. 6/10.”
She said it to be annoying, to remind her that they weren’t friends. And then—because apparently she was losing her mind—she stopped at the café before class and got Y/n’s stupid drink.
The next day? Another selfie. This one with a peace sign. The day after that, a sleepy one, pillow hair and all. And again the day after, a cute one with breakfast.
She kept sending them. And Jimin kept showing up with coffee.
Y/n just started saying “thanks, babe” in front of people, and Jimin would glare but not deny it.
She’d insult her taste in music in the car. Y/n would mock her driving. But every morning, there she was. Jimin didn’t know when it became routine. And she definitely didn’t know why it bothered her when Y/n forgot one morning and didn’t text.
When they got back to campus, nothing changed. On the surface.
Y/n still rolled her eyes every time Jimin made a snarky comment. She still called her “cheer vilain” under her breath and mimicked her perfect posture when she wasn’t looking. She was the same — effortlessly confident, occasionally unbearable, and totally unfazed by how tangled their fake relationship was getting.
The only difference was that Jimin was starting to notice… everything.
Like the way Y/n flipped her hair when she was annoyed. The way she chewed gum like she was trying to intimidate someone. The way she laughed when she didn’t mean to — not the cheerleader laugh, the real one, quick and unguarded.
And Jimin hated how easy it was for Y/n to slide into character. Holding her hand in front of their classmates like it was nothing. Wrapping their hands together when they passed by people from cheer. Whispering dumb things in her ear just to make her laugh — or to make it look like she did.
She was good at this. Too good.
And Jimin was starting to forget which parts were fake.
Which was why, when Heeseung asked how things were going, Jimin straight-up threw a pillow at his face.
“I’m just saying,” he grinned, holding up his hands, “you’ve been way less grumpy lately. Maybe dating your mortal enemy is actually healthy?”
“She’s not my—” Jimin stopped herself. “We’re faking it. I told you that.”
Heeseung shrugged. “Yeah, and I told you lying to your mom would spiral. Now look at you, making out in front of the cafeteria.”
“We didn’t make out. She kissed me on the cheek.”
“Ohhh, right. My mistake. Super platonic cheek kisses.”
Jimin groaned and buried her face in a cushion. “I hate you.”
“No, you hate her,” he said, casually scrolling his phone. “Except now you get her coffee every morning which you know how exactly she likes it and stare at your phone like a golden retriever waiting for a good morning text.”
He raised a brow as she shut up. The problem
was, Y/n didn’t know. About any of it. She thought they were still playing a game — still pretending. And maybe Jimin was too. She just didn’t know if she was pretending to be her girlfriend…
or pretending not to care.
Y/n was sprawled comfortably on Jimin’s couch, her feet tucked under her as she answered her phone with a cheery, “Oh! I’ll take that—Heeseung, stop hating on Meredith. She’s a complex character. And shut up.”
Y/n kicked her legs lightly as she leaned back against the couch, phone balanced on her shoulder, voice light.
“Oh my god, you didn’t! Wait, wait, Mrs. Yu—no, Jimin did not say that!"
She was talking about her bestfriend, like this was a normal catch-up with a longtime family friend, not her fake girlfriend’s mother.
From the kitchen counter, she gripped her mug a little tighter than necessary, pretending she was busy scrolling on her phone. But she wasn’t. Not really. She was listening to every word. Every laugh. Every “you’re so funny” and “I’d love to see pictures of baby Jimin.”
Heeseung leaned closer and muttered, “You good?”
Jimin shot him a glare, low and deadly. “Don’t start.”
But he just smirked, nudging her elbow. “Your mom likes her, a lot, more than me.”
Across the room, Y/n covered the speaker with her hand and turned toward them. “She wants to know if we’re coming to Busan again for the long weekend.”
We. Not you. Not Jimin. We.
Jimin blinked. “Why would we—?”
“I said maybe. Depending on practice and, you know, your schedule and stuff,” Y/n added, casually, like it was nothing. “Anyway, she’s sending me a kimchi recipe. Apparently yours is trash.”
Heeseung choked on a laugh.
Y/n tossed him a smug smile and went back to the call, the warmth never leaving her voice. “Yes, ma’am. I’ll text you the moment we’re on the road. Pinky promise.”
Jimin just stood there, watching her. Watching the way she tucked her chin into the pillow, her voice dropping to that soft, familiar tone that wasn’t meant for people like Jimin.
And it hit her again—Y/n was good at this. Too good.
Then Y/n hung up, set the phone aside, and stretched with a satisfied sigh. “Your mom says hi, by the way. And that I should stop letting you drink too much coffee. Apparently it makes you meaner.”
Jimin scoffed. “I’m not mean.”
“You’re literally scowling at me right now.”
“Okay, Wednesday Addams,” Y/n smirked, standing to grab her jacket. “You’re lucky I like your mom.”
She just stood there, heart pounding, arms crossed tight. Wondering how someone could get so close without even trying.
The car was silent except for the occasional hum of the engine, Jimin had pick up Y/n from cheer practice as she was sitting in the passenger seat, staring out the window, but her thoughts were racing.
Finally, she turned to Jimin, who had been unusually quiet since they left the gym. “It’s almost Valentine’s Day, you know.”
Jimin glanced at her, her fingers tightening around the steering wheel. “Yeah, I know.”
Y/n took a deep breath, feeling a bit of hesitation in her voice. “We should do something for Valentine’s Day, don't you think?"
Jimin’s eyebrows furrowed, the confusion clear on her face. “Why?”
Y/n sighed, running a hand through her hair. “Well we're supposed to be—” Y/n paused, trying to find the right word, “—a couple, you know? Couples do Valentine's Day.”
Jimin’s expression hardened, clearly annoyed at the direction of the conversation. “I don’t get it. We’re just… pretending. None of this is real, it's unnecessary."
Y/n’s face tightened. “That's the thing we are pretending so we should do that sort of thing. What would your mom say when she will see we haven't post any pictures on Instagram, I don’t want her to get suspicious, Jimin.”
Jimin was silent for a moment, staring straight ahead as if trying to process everything Y/n had said. She didn’t want to admit it, but her mom had been obsessed with their couple.
But still, Jimin didn’t want to go along with this.
“Why do we have to force ourselves?” Jimin finally muttered, her voice low. “Why can’t we just let this… die down on its own? This whole fake relationship thing is already so messed up. Valentine's Day is way too intimate.”
Y/n rolled her eyes in frustration. “I'm not asking you to marry me because this isn’t about us or what we feel. It’s about keeping up appearances, keeping your family from questioning the whole thing.”
Jimin was quiet again, her fingers drumming on the steering wheel as she processed everything. She didn’t like it. Didn’t like how this was spiraling. But Y/n was right, and she knew it.
With a heavy sigh, Jimin finally muttered, “Fine. But just one day. One dinner. A couple of pictures. That’s it. After that, no more, okay?”
“Yeah, sure,” Y/n muttered, eyes fixed on the blurred city lights outside the car window. Her voice was low, tired. “Do you still hate me, Jimin?”
Jimin gripped the steering wheel a little tighter, jaw flexing. “Of course. What kind of question is that?”
“Just asking,” Y/n said, shoulders rising in a small shrug. The air between them grew thick with silence.
Jimin didn’t respond. The soft hum of the engine filled the car, headlights casting faint glows against passing cars.
Y/n spoke again. “Should I stop sending pictures every morning? You don’t even answer. Minjeong told me you might think it’s unnecessary.”
Jimin’s head turned slightly. “No—keep going. It’s only fair, I bring you coffee.”
Jimin scoffed under her breath. “What am I supposed to do? Call you pretty?”
Y/n finally turned to face her, expression unreadable. “I’m your girlfriend. Fake or not, you never reply to any of my texts, Jimin. How am I supposed to know you—pretend to know you—if I can’t even get a ‘yeah, I ate’ or ‘I’m not coming over after tutoring lessons'? I sit there, alone, like an idiot, thinking maybe you’ll show up."
Jimin looked away, eyes fixed on the streetlights ahead. Her voice dropped. “I just don’t want it to feel real.”
“It’s already real, Jimin,” Y/n said quietly, not angrily, just… resigned. “We’re posting pictures. I’m talking to your mom. I’m showing up with you everywhere.”
Silence again. Then Jimin muttered, “I don’t want you close.”
Y/n laughed once, sharp and humorless. “Okay. I get it."
The car finally stopped in front of Y/n's building.
“I still hate you too. Just so you know,” she added.
Jimin’s hand twitched on the steering wheel. Her voice barely above a whisper: “Yeah. I know.”
Y/n didn’t move. Her hand stayed on the door handle, but she didn’t pull it open. She just sat there, eyes down, fingers curling slightly against the cold metal.
Jimin risked a glance at her.
Outside, the rain tapped lightly against the windshield. The city was quiet for once, wrapped in that stillness that only really came late at night. Inside the car, everything felt loud. Their breathing. The unsaid things. The weight of what they were doing—and what it was starting to become.
“Look,” Jimin started, voice low, like she wasn’t sure she should even say it. “I’m trying, alright? This was never supposed to go past Christmas. You weren’t supposed to be so… good at this.”
Y/n gave her a look. “Good at pretending?”
Jimin swallowed. “Good at… being part of my life.”
Y/n let that sit for a second before replying, voice sharp again. “Yeah, well, maybe if you didn’t act like being near me is some kind of punishment, it wouldn’t feel like I’m doing this alone.”
That stung more than Jimin expected.
Y/n finally opened the door but paused halfway out, leaning back in just enough to add, without looking at her, “Don’t worry. I won’t make it real for you.”
Then she shut the door behind her and walked up the steps to Y/n's building without another word.
Jimin stayed behind in the car, eyes locked on the steering wheel, her fingers tight around it. The silence returned, heavier than before.
She didn’t know why it bothered her so much. But it did.
Jimin sat in her car for a long time after Y/n left. The empty passenger seat felt heavier than it should’ve, the air thick with things she didn’t want to name. She stared blankly through the windshield, her fingers clenched around the steering wheel like if she held on tight enough, maybe everything would make sense.
She hated this. Not Y/n—well, maybe a little—but mostly the way this fake thing was becoming something she had to think about.
She remembered the look on Y/n’s face when she said that. Not angry. Just tired.
Eventually, Jimin drove off. No direction. Just a need to get away. She ended up at a small convenience store, the kind that still had yellowed tiles and humming refrigerators. She grabbed sushi without thinking—her comfort food, even if it was sad and overpriced in Seoul.
She sat with it in the car. Opened the little soy sauce packets. Took a bite. And for some reason, all she could think about was how Y/n would’ve complained about the rice being soggy.
Which is exactly how, thirty minutes later, she ended up back outside her own apartment.
Y/n opened the door in pajama shorts and a messy bun, half-surprised and half-annoyed.
“You’re back,” she said, crossing her arms.
Jimin held up the bag of sushi. “Peace offering.”
“You literally drove away.”
“I panicked. Shut up,” she muttered. “Anyway, I thought about what you said. And you’re right. If we’re going to do this until May, we might as well not suck at it.”
Y/n raised an eyebrow. “So your grand plan was… sushi?”
“And bonding,” Jimin added, stepping inside without asking. “You like stupid little bonding moments, don’t you?”
Y/n snorted. “You’re unbearable.”
They sat on the floor, Jimin spreading napkins like it was some sort of picnic. She passed Y/n her favorite roll, somehow remembering from a time they were barely speaking.
“Alright,” Jimin said, chewing, “since we’re ‘getting to know each other’—favorite movie?”
Y/n looked at her, skeptical. “Seriously?”
“Answer the question, cheerleader.”
Y/n sighed, but she played along. “Clueless.”
Jimin paused mid-bite. “…That tracks.”
The questions came easy after that. Favorite comfort food. Most hated teacher. First concert. They laughed when they realized they both snuck out to see BLACKPINK back in high school, probably standing in the same stadium at the same time.
Y/n leaned back on her hands. “Okay. Your turn. Deep question: if you weren’t scared of failing, what would you be doing right now?”
She opened her mouth, then closed it.
“…Probably something completely different,” she said eventually, softer. “But I don’t know what. Not pretending, though.”
Y/n didn’t push. She just nodded and looked down at the soy sauce packet beside her.
They weren’t friends. They weren’t lovers. They were still enemies. But for one night, with cold sushi and honesty between them, they were something else.
Maybe something that mattered.
The soy sauce packet slipped from Y/n’s hand and splashed onto her wrist.
“Shit,” she muttered, wiping it off with a napkin. “You’d think after years of sushi runs I’d have mastered opening one of these.”
Jimin snorted, mouth full of rice. “You act like you’re graceful but you’re literally chaos.”
“Thanks,” Y/n rolled her eyes. “Remind me to never compliment you again.”
They were sitting cross-legged on Y/n’s living room floor, boxes of sushi and drinks scattered between them, backs resting against the couch. It was quiet in a comfortable way — almost too comfortable for two girls who swore they hated each other.
Jimin reached for another salmon roll. “So… what other things do we have to practice for this fake dating thing?”
Y/n blinked. “You’re actually taking this seriously now?”
Jimin shrugged, chewing. “Better than letting everyone realize we’re lying.”
Y/n leaned back on her hands, eyes on the ceiling. “Well. If we’re being thorough… Ningning is planning this ridiculous Valentine’s Day couple challenge thing.”
Jimin groaned. “Why are cheerleaders like this?”
Y/n rolled her eyes. "I don’t know, but you’re dating one. So suck it up.”
“Fake dating,” Jimin corrected quickly.
Jimin side-eyed her. “What kind of things are in the challenge?”
Y/n hesitated. “Matching outfits. Answering question right. Sharing food. A cute morning selfie post. And, uh…”
Jimin raised an eyebrow. “And?”
Y/n kept her gaze on the sushi box. “There’s a kissing round.”
Jimin blinked. “And you’re suddenly shy? You literally kissed Jeno on the field once during a pep rally.”
Y/n’s face dropped. “No, I didn’t. That was rumour his friends started."
Jimin stared. “So what you have kissed him anyway." Y/n only look away from her. "You’ve never kissed him?”
Y/n picked at her chopsticks. “No. It just… never happened. Not with Jeno, not anyone. And now it’s supposed to happen with you in a couple challenge that Ningning’s probably livestreaming.”
Jimin blinked again. “Oh.”
More silence. The rustling of chopsticks. The fizz of soda opening.
“I mean—” Jimin started, licking soy sauce from her lip, “—we can practice. If you want.”
Y/n turned to her slowly. “Practice?”
“You’re the one panicking about messing up a kiss in public,” Jimin shrugged, trying to sound casual but clearly a little thrown. “It’s not that deep. We’re pretending to be dating. It’s method acting.”
Y/n laughed nervously. “Do you… kiss all your enemies as practice?”
“No,” Jimin said, leveling her gaze. “Just the annoying cheerleader ones who send me selfies every morning and steal the last spicy tuna.”
Y/n’s heart beat a little faster, but she disguised it with a scoff. “Right. Strictly business.”
Jimin nodded. “Strictly.”
But neither of them moved to turn the TV back on. And neither of them reached for more sushi.
Just quiet tension, and a shared thought they both refused to say out loud yet.
“I mean, we don’t have to,” Y/n said quickly finally breaking the silence unsure why she even brought it up. “It’s not like they’re gonna kick us out of the couple challenge if the kiss is awkward.”
Jimin tilted her head. “You’re the one who brought it up.”
Y/n bit her lip, avoiding eye contact. “Because I didn’t think you’d actually say yes.”
A. beat passed. The dim light in Jimin’s living room made everything feel a little softer, a little quieter.
“I’m not gonna make fun of you,” Jimin said after a moment. “This is… weirdly serious for you.”
“It’s my first kiss,” Y/n admitted again, barely a whisper.
Jimin sat up straighter. “Okay.” She breathed in slowly. “We’ll go slow.”
Y/n blinked. “Right now?”
Jimin gave her a look. “You want to wait until Valentine’s Day with a hundred eyes watching you?”
Jimin leaned in just a little, like testing the water. “You okay?”
“Yeah,” Y/n nodded, heart racing. “Are you okay?”
“I’m not the one sweating,” Jimin teased softly.
Y/n shoved her shoulder. “Shut up.”
But then Jimin was looking at her again. Not in that way she usually did — the one with the sarcastic edge or exasperated sigh. This one was different. Patient. Curious.
“Okay, I’m gonna go,” Jimin said quietly.
And she did. Soft, careful, barely there — just a brush of lips. It lasted maybe two seconds. Then another one, a little more sure.
Y/n froze at first, but then she leaned in. Let it happen. The kind of kiss that wasn’t electric, or life-shattering — just warm and safe and real.
When they pulled apart, Jimin looked away first.
“That was…” Y/n said, voice stuck somewhere between a breath and a laugh.
“Not bad,” Jimin offered, standing up too quickly, pretending to stretch. “You’ll survive.”
Y/n just nodded. “Cool. Um… thanks. For helping.”
“No big deal,” Jimin muttered, already pretending to scroll on her phone. “Let’s forget it happened.”
Jimin walked in with Y/n by her side, their hands casually brushing, like it had become a habit.
Ningning’s place was decked out in the most excessive (and slightly chaotic) Valentine’s aesthetic imaginable. Pink streamers clung to every wall, heart-shaped confetti was already sticking to everyone’s socks, and a faint scent of chocolate and artificial strawberries lingered in the air.
Ningning’s living room had been transformed into a pastel heart-filled wonderland — balloons in every shade of pink and red, chocolate fountains on the kitchen counter, and a handmade photobooth Ningning had forced every couple into.
Y/n had already taken three photos with Jimin — one holding fake roses, one with a candy heart filter, and one where she leaned against Jimin’s shoulder. The first two, Jimin had scowled. The last… Jimin didn’t even realize she was smiling.
Now, as the party settled into casual chaos — soft music playing, people snuggled in corners, eating or playing card games — Jimin found herself standing by the drink table alone, watching Y/n laugh with Yizhuo and Liz like she’d always been part of this world.
“You okay?” Minjeong’s voice broke through her thoughts.
Jimin turned. “Oh. Yeah. Just tired.”
Minjeong handed her a chocolate-covered strawberry. “You guys are kinda perfect together. I didn’t think I’d ever say that.”
Minjeong smiled, eyes soft and sincere. “I’ve known her since we were kids. And I don’t think I’ve ever seen her this happy — this light. It’s like she doesn’t have to try with you. Like she can just be.”
Jimin didn’t say anything. She couldn’t. Her mind ran over every moment from the past few weeks — the morning selfies, the coffee runs, the sushi night, that stupid kiss practice that had her staring at the wall all night after.
Minjeong leaned closer, voice lowering like it was a secret. “She’s falling for you deeply, Jimin. I think you are too. Well if it didn't happen yet." She giggled.
Jimin’s heart clenched, not because Minjeong was right — but because she didn’t know how wrong she was.
This wasn’t real. Except, it didn’t feel fake anymore.
And that’s what terrified her the most.
“Okay! Everyone shut up — it’s game time!” Ningning called out, standing on her coffee table with a pink heart-shaped megaphone.
Y/n, curled up next to Jimin on the love seat, groaned quietly. “She’s been waiting all week to do this.”
Jimin leaned in, murmuring back. “Why do I feel like this is where we get exposed?”
“Because it is,” Y/n whispered, her voice dry.
Ningning cleared her throat dramatically. “Alright! Time for the Couples Challenge — Valentine’s Edition. You’ll be tested on how in sync you really are. And yes, there’s a prize, and yes, it’s stupidly cute.”
Minjeong, sitting below her girlfriend with an amused smile, added, “She made it. It’s a DIY ‘Most Adorable Couple’ plaque.”
“Oh my god,” Jimin muttered under her breath.
Ningning continued, clapping her hands. “Final round is a kiss. Not just any kiss — the longest kiss wins bonus points.”
Y/n turned to Jimin. “We’re not doing that.”
Jimin blinked, face already flushed. “Obviously.”
“But if we don’t, we lose.”
“But your mom follows my Instagram.”
“What’s your partner’s favorite midnight snack?”
Jimin blinked at Y/n’s paper. “You wrote… string cheese?”
Y/n nodded. “With honey mustard.”
“Disturbing.” Jimin held up “banana milk.”
Y/n was blindfolded as she touched Jimin’s face — the curve of her jaw — she paused.
Jimin looked at her strangely. “…Jaw.”
They didn’t hold eye contact after that.
ROUND 3: Most likely to...
Question: Who’s most likely to start a fight over nothing?
Y/n confidently writes Jimin. Jimin writes Y/n.
“I’m not the one who slammed my locker because I couldn’t find my lip balm.”
“That was one time and it was lip gloss, Jimin!”
They get a point for “sync in chaos.”
Ningning reads the question:
“What’s the most romantic thing you’ve done for each other?”
Y/n panics. “We're not— I mean—”
Jimin shrugs, cool. “She sends me a photo every morning so I don’t forget her face.”
Then Jimin turns to her and whispers, “Your turn.”
Y/n frowns. “She brings me coffee every morning… but she never says hi.”
Everyone went "awww" once again.
FINAL ROUND: The Kiss Round
The air in Ningning’s living room was warm with laughter and music, fairy lights glowing soft above their heads. Pillows were scattered, people were lounging with drinks in hand, and couples were tangled together like puzzle pieces that somehow fit.
Jimin sat upright on the floor, stiff, her hand clenching her soda can a little too tight. She wasn’t built for games like this — not ones that tugged at things she wasn’t ready to name.
“Alright,” Ningning announced with a clap, “Final round! The couples kiss. Audience votes. Ten seconds minimum. No cheating. And we want passion you have to kiss your partner like it’s the last time you’ll ever see them. Most convincing wins.”
Someone whistled. Jimin’s stomach sank.
She turned slightly, catching the glow of Y/n’s face beside her. Smaller, still out of breath from laughing too hard during the last round. Her hair was slightly tousled, her cheeks flushed. Y/n met her eyes and smirked just a little. “Should we lose on purpose?”
Jimin opened her mouth to say yes — please, let’s just bow out — but her mother’s voice rang faint in her ears: “You’re doing so well, sweetie. Y/n really grounds you.”
She couldn’t afford suspicion. Not now.
“No,” she muttered. “We’ll win.”
Y/n’s brows rose, surprised. “You sure?”
Before Jimin could answer, the spotlight — or Ningning’s dramatic pointing — landed on them.
“Y/n and Jimin. You’re up.”
Jimin turned to face Y/n, already feeling the warmth crawl up her neck. Everyone was watching.
It wasn’t like they hadn’t kissed. That practice kiss still lingered somewhere in the back of her mind. But that was private, awkward — tentative. This? This was a performance. And maybe something more.
The whole room faded to the background.
“We said we should act like it’s real,” Jimin whispered softly for only the cheerleader to hear, almost like a warning. Then, lower, “So let’s make it real.”
And before Y/n could answer, Jimin leaned in and kissed her.
It wasn’t hesitant. It wasn’t delicate.
It was full-bodied, anchored. Jimin kissed her like she meant it — like the room had disappeared, like Y/n wasn’t the girl she hated for years, but someone she knew. One hand still firm on Y/n’s jaw, the other moved to her waist, pulling her closer like she couldn’t stand the space between them.
Y/n’s breath caught. Her hands found Jimin’s hoodie, gripping it weakly, the edges of her world spinning. She didn’t know where to put the flood of feeling rushing through her — wasn’t sure if it was the kiss, or the fact that Jimin was really kissing her.
When Jimin finally pulled back, there was a beat of silence — heavy and stunned.
Then the room exploded. Laughter, clapping, cheering.
“Okayyy!” Ningning screamed. “I think we have a winner!”
The knock on the door came just as Y/n was flicking through the most depressing fridge she’d ever seen. Empty shelves. One sad can of soda. Half a lemon.
She opened the door and blinked when she saw Jimin standing there, holding a bag of takeout and looking way too casual in sweatpants and a hoodie.
“You looked hungry through text,” Jimin said, walking in without waiting.
“I didn’t send a selfie this morning.”
Y/n’s brows rose, but she didn’t say anything as Jimin unloaded the food on her small kitchen table — tteokbokki, kimbap, and fried chicken. All her favorites. Y/n couldn’t help but grin a little.
“Okay. I’ll allow you to invade my apartment if you keep doing this.”
“You love me,” Jimin smirked, almost out of habit.
“You wish,” Y/n muttered around a bite, lips stained with red sauce.
They sat together on the floor, legs stretched under the table, food between them. The TV played in the background, but neither was paying attention. They laughed more than they had in days — mostly at Jimin’s terrible impersonation of Heeseung trying to flirt.
But she didn’t realize just how happy until Y/n, lying back on the floor with her stomach full, casually said:
Jimin licked some sauce off her thumb, catching Y/n staring. “What?”
“Nothing.” Y/n grinned. “You’re just—so serious when you eat.”
Jimin rolled her eyes but her lips tugged up. She hadn’t realized how easy it had become to laugh with her.
Y/n nudged her shoulder. “You’re fun when you’re not hating me.”
“I still hate you,” Jimin replied, but it came out too soft to sound convincing.
“Sure.” Y/n smiled, stretching out. “Hey, Jack’s throwing a party tonight. Wanna come?”
Jimin raised an eyebrow. “Jack? As in frat-boy Jack?”
Y/n laughed. “Yeah, but it’s not that deep. Minjeong’s going. Everyone will be there.”
“I didn’t think you’d wanna show up with me.”
“Why wouldn’t I?” Y/n looked up, genuine curiosity in her voice. “We’re dating, remember?"
Jimin blinked. “Right. Dating.”
Y/n didn’t press. She just stood, brushing off her sweats. “We can go for like an hour. If you want.”
And for some reason, Jimin found herself nodding.
The house was already packed when they arrived — music thumping, voices rising above the bass, neon lights flickering against the walls like a heartbeat. Jimin followed Y/n through the crowd, her hand barely brushing the back of the cheerleader’s head. She could smell her shampoo in the air between them. Peach and vanilla.
The moment they stepped into the living room, a chorus of cheers erupted.
“Y/n!” Ningning squealed from across the room, a red plastic cup in one hand and her girlfriend, Minjeong, barely managing to hold her back with the other.
Y/n laughed. “I told you they’d be loud.”
Jimin offered a faint smile, nodding to Minjeong — the only one here who seemed to feel the same way as her about the party — before being swept into a crowd of unfamiliar faces.
At first, it was fine. Y/n stayed close. She introduced Jimin as her girlfriend with casual charm that made it almost believable. They clinked drinks, smiled for a few pictures, even laughed with Liz and Beomgyu about how badly they’d bomb a couples trivia round.
Y/n got pulled into Ningning’s circle — all glossed lips, glittery eyeshadow, and voices sharpened with popularity. She blended in too well. Her laughter grew louder. She tossed her hair over her shoulder like she knew every eye was on her — because they were.
And Jimin? Jimin stood at the edge of it all, invisible.
She hated how familiar it felt. Watching Y/n shine while she sank into the background. She tried not to let it bother her. Tried to remind herself that it wasn’t real. None of this was.
Jimin’s stomach twisted the second she saw him, drink in hand, grin stretched lazy across his face as he moved through the crowd like he owned it. He spotted Y/n almost immediately and slid up beside her, leaning in to speak close — too close — lips nearly brushing her ear.
Her cup was empty. She didn’t even remember drinking it. She turned to leave, needing air or silence or literally anything but this — but then it hit her.
The reason Y/n agreed to this in the first place.
She wasn’t trying to help Jimin.
She was trying to make him jealous.
Jimin froze at the doorway, eyes still on Y/n and Jeno, the way he placed his hand on her waist like it belonged there.
Because the way Y/n looked tonight wasn’t just pretty. She was breathtaking. Real and here and laughing at a joke that Jimin would never get to hear.
She suddenly didn’t want to be here anymore.
She wanted to disappear — or worse — pull Y/n away and ask who she thought she was trying to hurt, because it sure as hell wasn’t Jeno anymore.
Jimin hadn’t said a word in ten minutes.
She stood in the middle of the crowded party, surrounded by people she barely knew and music that was starting to feel like static.
It made Jimin’s chest tighten.
“You look like you’re about to punch someone,” a familiar voice teased behind her.
She didn’t need to turn around to know it was Minjeong.
“Just tired,” Jimin muttered, arms crossed as she forced her gaze away.
Minjeong moved beside her, sipping from a red cup. “Tired and jealous look eerily similar on you.”
Jimin didn’t respond, jaw tightening slightly.
Minjeong smiled knowingly. “You know… I didn’t think Y/n was the relationship type. But you really changed something in her.”
That made Jimin turn, brows pulling together. “What?”
Minjeong tilted her head, sincere now. “She used to get bored of people so easily. Even with Jeno, it never looked like this. But with you? She glows. She’s actually letting someone see her — and I’ve known her long enough to know how rare that is.”
Jimin blinked. Her heart stuttered.
She wasn’t sure what hurt more — the fact that Minjeong believed it, or the fact that she didn’t know if it was still fake.
“I…” Jimin started, voice dry but no words came out.
Jimin stared blankly at the floor. Minjeong gave her a pat on the arm and disappeared into the crowd, leaving her alone with her thoughts and the dull pulse of music in the background.
Her name cut through the bass-heavy music, and Jimin glanced up just in time to see Y/n weaving through the crowd toward her. Her cheeks were flushed from the heat, maybe from the drinks, and she had that wide, excited grin she always wore when she was riding a high of attention.
“There you are,” Y/n said, catching her breath. “Come play beer pong with me.”
“C’mon,” Y/n tugged her hand without waiting, “I need a partner. Ningning already took Minjeong, and I am not playing with Beomgyu again, he does the absolute most.”
Jimin didn’t want to. She wanted to leave, actually. But Y/n’s hand was warm, and the way she was smiling made it hard to say no.
The basement was louder, smell of beer and too much perfume mingling in the air. Jimin could barely hear herself think, but before she could protest, someone handed her a red solo cup and Y/n was lining up the ping pong ball.
“I’ll start,” Y/n said confidently, and Jimin just raised a brow.
They were winning — mostly because Y/n was competitive and charismatic, and people liked watching her. But every time someone made a comment like “Damn, power couple!” or “You two are too hot, this is unfair,” Jimin took a longer sip of her drink.
She wasn’t counting how many she’d had. She just knew she was warm, her cheeks tingled, and she felt a little too exposed every time Y/n leaned into her personal space to laugh, or high-five, or whisper something in her ear to throw off the other team.
By the fourth round, Jimin’s aim was off.
Y/n turned to her, chuckling. “You good?”
“Fine,” Jimin mumbled, but she was squinting at the cups like they were multiplying.
“I’m not—” Jimin paused, swayed slightly. “Okay maybe a little.”
Y/n smiled, stepping closer, her hand grazing Jimin’s lower back. “You’re a lightweight.”
Jimin stared at her. “You’re enjoying this, aren’t you?”
Y/n just grinned wider, dimples showing. “A little.”
And then someone cheered — they had won again — and Y/n turned to give Jimin a hug, arms wrapping around her shoulder as if it were the most natural thing in the world.
Not because she didn’t like it — but because she did.
“Hey, there you are,” Jeno's voice appeared behind her, slipping next to her like nothing. “Thought I lost you earlier. I wanted to finish what we were talking about.”
"I thought we had finished talking." Y/n smirked.
“Come on,” he laughed, leaning in slightly. “You don’t have to keep pretending now. We both know this whole ‘girlfriend’ thing is because you wanna get back at me."
Before Y/n could answer, Jimin stepped into the conversation.
Jimin’s voice wasn’t as sharp as usual — it had that drunk haze to it, slurred just at the edges. But her eyes were burning. There was no mistaking the fire behind them.
Jeno raised an eyebrow, amused. “Relax, it’s a joke. Just saying it’s cute, the way she’s dragging this whole thing out. Didn’t expect you to fall for it.”
Jimin stepped forward, a little unsteady on her feet, but not stopping. “Dragging what out?” she asked, low.
Jeno chuckled, sipping his drink like he hadn’t just poured gasoline on something dangerous. “You really think this is real? Come on, you don’t even look like her type. Thought I had her figured out, but guess not.”
“You don’t know anything about her,” Jimin snapped, pointing a lazy finger at him. “She’s not yours to talk about.”
“Oh, so she’s yours now?”
The words hit her like a slap — and not in the way he expected. She stood a little straighter, less wobbly. Drunk or not, Jimin’s voice sharpened.
Jeno blinked, his smug expression faltering.
“I know what you’re doing,” Jimin continued, a little louder now. “You wanna feel important again, so you bring her up like you still have something on her. You don’t.”
People were starting to watch now, the party quieting around the scene.
Jeno looked to Y/n, like she might save him. “You’re just gonna let her talk like that for you?”
Y/n took a breath, but before she could speak, Jimin cut in again.
“She doesn’t need to say anything,” she snapped. “But I’m not letting you throw some fake ego tantrum at her like she owes you anything. You lost her, Jeno. That’s on you.”
There was a thick silence.
Then Jeno’s voice dropped lower. “You don’t know what she’s like when she gets bored.”
That was when Jimin laughed — bitter and breathy as she shove him.
“You really think she’s pretending?” Her words slurred again, but they hit harder than ever. “You think she’d waste her time playing around with someone like me just to get back at you?”
Jeno stared. Didn’t answer.
Jimin smiled, sharp and crooked. “You don’t know her at all.”
He muttered a curse, stepping back. “Whatever. You two are a f*cking mess.”
Jimin stood there, swaying slightly, the adrenaline mixing with alcohol. Her chest was heaving.
Y/n stepped in, gently wrapping a hand around Jimin’s arm. “Okay. That’s enough. You need water.”
“I’m fine,” Jimin muttered, but her voice broke a little.
“You’re not,” Y/n whispered. “But thank you.”
Jimin didn’t say anything — just let herself be led away, Y/n’s arm steady around her.
And even drunk, even overwhelmed, she knew:
She wasn’t pretending anymore. Not even a little.
The second the apartment door closed behind them, Jimin stumbled out of her shoes, nearly tripping on the rug. Y/n caught her by the arm.
“Okay—whoa, slow down, champ,” she said, trying not to laugh. “You’re wasted.”
“I’m not,” Jimin slurred, squinting at her. “I’m just… dizzy. From the rage. And… beer pong.”
Y/n guided her to the couch, where Jimin dramatically collapsed, draping herself across the cushions like a fallen hero.
“I could’ve taken him,” Jimin muttered, staring at the ceiling. “I should’ve punched him harder. Right in the stupid, smug face. Who names their kid Jeno, anyway?”
Y/n grabbed her a glass of water and sat next to her. “You didn’t punch him at all.”
“I wanted to!” Jimin sat up, unsteady. “He doesn’t deserve to look at you like that. Like you’re his. Like he owned some part of you. You’re not—” she paused, eyes heavy. “You’re not his anymore.”
Y/n blinked, her breath catching. “You’re really mad.”
“I am,” Jimin nodded seriously, and then her face crumpled. “I think I’m gonna cry. Wait, no—no, I’m good.”
Y/n stared at her, her expression unreadable in the low glow of the streetlights. Then she said, almost shyly, “You’re really bad at hating me, you know that?”
Jimin snorted. “No. I’m excellent at it. I’ve just got layers.”
“Like… I can hate you and still think you deserve better.”
Y/n held the water to her lips, and Jimin drank obediently, blinking slowly as she leaned back. There was a pause, quiet, soft.
“You know…” Jimin mumbled after a beat. “I forgot why I hated you in the first place.”
Y/n turned to her, surprised. “Seriously?”
Jimin nodded again, looking up at her with a haze in her eyes. “I think you’re really pretty. Even when you’re annoying.”
“I mean,” Jimin added, “you’re still you, but… when you smiled earlier—like, when you were talking to Ningning? You looked happy. And I liked that.”
Y/n was quiet, processing her words.
“Jimin…” she whispered, voice lower now.
“Maybe you should sleep.”
Jimin closed her eyes slowly. “Only if you stay.”
Y/n hesitated, then reached for the blanket on the back of the couch and pulled it over both of them. Jimin curled into her like it was the most natural thing in the world.
And as the room fell into a sleepy silence, Y/n sat there, heart pounding, wondering when all of this—this pretend—had started to feel like something she couldn’t untangle herself from.
The sky outside was still dipped in early morning grey, barely tinged with pink. It bled softly through the curtains, scattering gentle light across the small living room. Jimin blinked slowly, her eyes adjusting as a dull throb pulsed behind them. Her mouth felt dry, her skin warm, and she could feel the weight of something—someone—pressed beside her.
At first, she thought she was still dreaming. Her head felt too light, her limbs too heavy. But as she turned her head slightly and was met with the very real sight of Y/n tucked against her side, reality settled in fast.
Y/n was curled up, almost instinctively, against her chest, her body pressed close like it belonged there. Her hand rested against Jimin’s waist, fingers slightly curled into the fabric of her shirt. Her face was buried just beneath Jimin’s collarbone, the rise and fall of her breaths steady, calm, unaware.
Jimin swallowed, her heart thudding against her ribs.
The last thing she remembered was the party. The noise. The crowd. The heat.
The thought of him made Jimin’s stomach twist. His voice, that smug tone, the way he looked at Y/n like she still belonged to him, like Jimin had stolen something. Like she didn’t matter. And maybe the drinking hadn’t helped, maybe she had been reckless—but God, the way her blood boiled when he touched Y/n’s arm, the way he had spoken down to her, dismissed her like she was disposable—
And then it was a blur. Arguing. Yelling. The shoving. Hands almost flying. And then someone pulling her away—maybe Y/n—and the next thing she remembered was being wrapped in a blanket, in the dark, Y/n’s voice soft beside her.
“Just sleep it off, dumbass,” Y/n had muttered, but there was a gentleness in her voice. Not anger. Not annoyance.
Wrapped up in each other like they hadn’t spent the last few months pretending. Like they weren’t faking everything for the sake of their reputations and a lie they told their families. Like this wasn’t supposed to be temporary.
So quiet it made Jimin’s chest ache.
She looked down again. Y/n’s hair was a little messy, her lips slightly parted. She looked peaceful—nothing like the girl who usually rolled her eyes at Jimin during practice or called her names under her breath when she thought she couldn’t hear.
And Jimin realized, with a sharp pang in her chest, that something had shifted.
Not just last night, not just in the heat of that party—but somewhere along the way. Somewhere between the morning coffees and the pillow forts, the fake confessions and the forced laughs. Somewhere between the effort to make this look real and the moments where it felt real, she had stopped noticing the difference.
She let her head fall back onto the pillow and closed her eyes.
“This is fake,” she whispered to herself, as if saying it out loud would ground her again. “This is fake.”
But even in the stillness of the morning, even with Y/n breathing against her neck, Jimin felt like she was lying to herself.
The problem was—it didn’t feel fake anymore.
And Jimin didn’t know what scared her more:
The fact that Y/n might feel it too.
Or the fact that she absolutely didn’t.
As the cheer competition approached, Jimin found herself spiraling. She wasn’t sure if it was the looming pressure of the event, her parents’ constant reminders about her summer plans with Y/n, or the fact that the end of their fake relationship felt closer than ever. Maybe it was all of it — the excitement, the anxiety, the weight of it all pressing against her chest like an invisible hand.
Her mind was clouded. For weeks, she’d buried herself in the act — the fake dates, the fake affection, the fake moments that somehow felt a little too real. But now, with the final competition in sight, Jimin couldn’t shake the feeling that the bubble they’d been living in was about to burst.
Every time she saw Y/n, it felt like the end was inevitable, like the ticking clock of their arrangement was growing louder. The summer was coming, and Y/n’s family was already making plans for them — plans that Jimin couldn’t shake. It wasn’t that she didn’t want to be part of Y/n’s life, but that terrified her even more. What would happen when the competition was over? Would they just go back to being nothing? Would everything they’d shared disappear?
Y/n didn’t seem affected by any of it. She didn’t talk about the end of the arrangement or what would come after. It was like nothing was changing for her. It only made Jimin’s heart ache more. She felt like she was standing at the edge of a cliff, staring down at the abyss.
But every time she looked at Y/n, she couldn’t help but feel drawn to her. How could something so real feel so fake?
The day of the competition arrived, and Jimin found herself driving Y/n to the bus. Y/n’s cheer squad was heading to the finals, and Jimin’s heart was heavy with more than just the usual nerves.
“Good luck, okay?” Jimin said quietly as she parked in front of the bus. She glanced at Y/n, her heart skipping a beat when their eyes met.
Y/n smiled, but it didn’t reach her eyes. She kissed her fingertips and pressed them against Jimin’s cheek, a casual gesture, but Jimin felt the heat of it all the same. It didn’t matter that it was part of the act. It felt too real.
Y/n’s smile softened. “I’ll text you after,” she said, stepping out of the car, giving Jimin a final wave.
Jimin didn’t watch her walk away. Instead, she drove off, her heart aching as she tried to keep her emotions in check. What if it was really over this time? What if she drove away and never saw Y/n again?
She couldn’t shake the feeling. The whole thing was too much.
That’s when Heeseung texted her.
“Why don’t you come see Y/n at the finals? I’m sure she’d love to have you there.”
Jimin felt a knot tighten in her stomach. Heeseung was right — Y/n would probably want her there. But would she want to see Jimin after everything? After the doubts? After the way things were spiraling?
But Jimin couldn’t let herself back out now. If she didn’t go, if she didn’t show up, it might be the last chance she had to truly connect with Y/n before it was too late. She couldn’t let the fear hold her back.
Jimin stepped into the competition arena, still slightly nervous about being here, even though it was Heeseung who had convinced her to come. She had avoided Y/n’s texts, unsure of what to say — unsure if she was even ready for this. She had told herself she was here to support Y/n, but she wasn’t entirely sure how to act around her now, given the mess of emotions tangled up in her chest.
As Jimin and Heeseung walked into the venue, her eyes immediately scanned the crowd, trying to find Y/n. There was no way she’d be able to concentrate on anything else when she was in this space with all the tension swirling in her head. And then she saw her — Y/n was standing backstage, adjusting her uniform, laughing with a teammate. Jimin’s heart thudded in her chest, a strange flutter filling her stomach.
She had been hearing about Y/n’s cheer competition for weeks now, but seeing her in action was an entirely different thing. There was something about the way she stood there — confident, poised, yet radiating warmth and energy.
But Jimin couldn’t focus on that for long. A voice cut through her thoughts.
“Jimin, Heeseung, hey! You made it!” Minjeong waved her over.
Jimin turned and saw Minjeong standing with Y/n’s brother, Yeonjun, and her father, Chanwoo. Jimin felt her nerves kick into overdrive, unsure of how this would go.
“Hey,” Jimin said, giving a hesitant wave as she walked over. She wasn’t sure what to expect, but she had to admit, it was a bit overwhelming meeting Y/n’s family after everything that had been happening between them. She hadn’t been prepared to be this nervous.
“Oh, you’re Jimin, right?” Chanseo asked with a friendly smile as he extended his hand. He seemed relaxed and welcoming. “I’ve heard so much about you. Y/n’s always talking about you.”
Jimin’s stomach flipped. She hadn’t expected to be recognized so easily, but then again, Y/n’s dad was clearly up to date on her Instagram posts and everything.
“Yeah,” Jimin said awkwardly as she shook his hand, “I’m Jimin. Nice to meet you.”
Chanseo smiled knowingly. “Y/n talks about you a lot, you know. I see your posts — she’s always tagging you, saying how much you help her. You seem to be a good influence on her.”
Jimin froze, unsure how to respond. She couldn’t help but glance at Yeonjun, who was watching her closely, a teasing grin on his face.
“Don’t worry,” Yeonjun added, “Dad’s been on Instagram again. He keeps tabs on everything Y/n does.”
Jimin nodded, trying to mask the awkwardness that was creeping up on her. She didn’t know what Y/n had told them about her, or if they even knew about the whole “fake dating” thing. But before she could say anything else, Chanseo was already looking over at the stage.
“Looks like it’s almost time,” Chanseo said, nodding toward the main stage as the announcers began the countdown for the final teams.
Jimin followed his gaze, her heart racing. She wasn’t sure what to expect from this whole competition, but now that she was here, she felt like the stakes were higher than ever.
When the final whistle blew and Y/n’s squad was announced as the winners, the gym erupted into chaos—cheers, confetti, teammates screaming and tackling her into a group hug. The win felt unreal. Her heart was pounding, her throat dry from shouting, but all she could do was laugh, overwhelmed with joy.
She hadn’t even thought to look for Jimin. Honestly, she hadn’t expected her to show up. The fake dating thing had become so tangled, so confusing lately—half teasing, half arguments, and a small, quiet part of her that had started hoping it wasn’t fake at all.
Jimin, standing by the bleachers in her black hoodie and that unreadable expression, hands tucked into her pockets like she hadn’t just stood there watching the whole routine. Watching her.
Y/n froze, blinking like she wasn’t sure if she was imagining it.
Her dad was there. And her brother, clapping wildly in the stands, waving like maniacs.
But standing quietly to the side, like she didn’t want to be noticed—was Jimin.
Y/n hadn’t known Jimin was coming.
She hadn’t let herself hope Jimin would come.
But she was here. And suddenly, the noise, the confetti, even the gold medal around her neck faded into the background.
Not toward Minjeong. Not her dad. Not Yeonjun.
No hesitation. No teasing quip or smug grin. Just full speed, eyes wide and shining with something raw and real.
Jimin barely had time to react before Y/n threw her arms around her, burying her face into her chest, the energy of the win still radiating off her.
“You came,” Y/n breathed, her voice muffled, almost like she was afraid to believe it.
Jimin held her tightly, like she didn’t want to let go. “Of course I did.”
Y/n pulled back just enough to look up at her, face flushed, eyes shining. “I thought you didn’t care about this stuff.”
Jimin gave a soft smile, brushing a strand of hair from Y/n’s face. “I didn’t,” she said quietly. “Until it was you out there.”
And just like that, the fake label hanging over them didn’t matter anymore.
Her dad reached them first, eyes still glassy from pride. “There’s my champion,” he said, pulling her into a hug, then giving Jimin a warm, knowing smile. “What a lovely couple! Y/n, you shouldn't have hide her from us!”
Her brother, older and nosier by nature, raised an eyebrow. “You didn’t tell us she was gonna be here.”
Y/n shrugged quickly, trying to keep her voice steady. “She surprised me.”
The confetti had settled. The cheers had died down. The crowd was dispersing. Y/n and Jimin stood just outside, the noise now replaced by the steady hum of late afternoon footsteps and distant chatter.
“This is it, right?” Jimin asked quietly, voice tight but steady.
Y/n’s heart skipped. She swallowed, forcing herself to meet Jimin’s eyes. “Yeah. After today… we’re done.”
No one had said it out loud before. Not really. But now it hung heavy between them, as real as the gold medal still shining around Y/n’s neck.
Jimin exhaled, the tension in her shoulders easing for a moment. “I thought… maybe it wouldn’t feel like this at the end.”
Y/n’s fingers tightened around the medal ribbon. “Me too.”
They looked at each other, a thousand unspoken words swirling in the space between them. The fake smiles, the sarcastic teasing, the constant battles — all of it had been a mask for something else. Something neither of them had dared to name.
“Do you regret it?” Jimin asked, her voice barely above a whisper.
Y/n blinked, then shook her head. “No. Not even for a second.”
Jimin stepped closer, her hands hesitating at Y/n’s hand. “So why does it feel like I’m losing you already?”
Y/n swallowed hard, the sudden vulnerability catching her off guard. “Because maybe we’re not as fake as we thought.”
Jimin’s gaze softened. “What if we don’t have to break up? What if this—us—doesn’t have to end?”
Y/n’s breath hitched. The medal felt heavy, but this moment felt even heavier — full of possibility and fear all at once.
“I don’t know,” Y/n whispered. “But we can’t pretend forever, we have plans on our own. We can’t hold back each other from finding love—”
Jimin cut her off, voice steady but raw. “I don’t want to find someone else. Not anymore.”
Y/n’s breath caught as she looked up, surprised by the sudden confession.
Jimin took a small step closer, searching her eyes. “This fake relationship… it was supposed to be just a game. But it stopped being fake a long time ago. I don’t want to pretend anymore. I want us to be real.”
The words hung between them, heavy and full of hope.
Y/n’s heart raced, the medal around her neck suddenly feeling lighter. She reached out, brushing a loose strand of hair from Jimin’s face.
“Then let’s stop pretending,” she whispered back. “Let’s be real. Together.”
And just like that, the walls they’d built around their hearts began to crumble, leaving only the possibility of something real — something worth fighting for.
Jimin’s gaze softened, her breath catching just slightly. Slowly, she closed the distance between them, her hand reaching up to gently cup Y/n’s cheek.
Y/n’s heart hammered in her chest as their eyes locked, the world around them fading until there was nothing but the two of them.
Then, with a quiet, almost hesitant tenderness, Jimin leaned in.
Their lips met — soft at first, a question in the gentle press, then growing bolder as the hesitation melted away.
Y/n melted into the kiss, her arms slipping around Jimin’s shoulder, pulling her closer.
It was everything they hadn’t said, everything they’d both been holding back — raw and real and trembling with possibility.
When they finally pulled apart, their foreheads rested together, breaths mingling.
Jimin whispered, “Real, then?”
Y/n smiled, heart full. “Real.”
