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Yoona was joking.
Really.
When she told Jiwoo, “You should make her jealous,” she meant something normal. Like posting a thirst trap. Or pretending to be over her. Not—
“What are you doing?” Yoona asks, staring in mild horror at the lipstick Jiwoo just pulled out of her bag.
The two of them are sitting on Yoona’s bed, which is already a dangerous place to be when Jiwoo is freshly single and definitely not over her ex.
Jiwoo uncaps the lipstick, the deep red standing out against her pale fingers. “Aren’t you the one who suggested this?”
Yoona squints. “I don’t recall mentioning lipstick. Or—” she gestures vaguely at Jiwoo’s exposed collarbone, “—whatever this is.”
Jiwoo sighs, dramatic. “I’m miserable, and she’s already dating some guy, unnie. Don’t want her to think I’m still hung up on her.”
“But you are.”
“Yes, but she doesn’t need to know that.”
Yoona watches Jiwoo as she walks to her mirror, tilting her head to the side and brushing her fingers along her neck as if practicing the perfect angle to show off… whatever she wants to show off.
God, Yoona doesn’t know why this conversation is even happening right now. She could tell Jiwoo to drop it, and Jiwoo would listen. Jiwoo might be impulsive, but she’s not stubborn—well, not really, anyway. She’s more… enthusiastic. But idiot Seol Yoona, deep inside her bones, wants to see where this goes.
Part of her hates herself for thinking that. Another part of her, the one that’s been watching Jiwoo for way too long, likes it. Her mind is a swamp of confusion. She’s been stuck in it for a while now.
She watched when Jiwoo first got together with Haneul. Watched as Haneul ran her fingers through Jiwoo’s hair and laughed at all her jokes. Watched as Jiwoo softened for her, reserved her best smiles for her. Watched as Jiwoo fell, headfirst, heart first.
And then, Yoona watched when it all fell down.
The breakup was loud, messy, and impossible to ignore. Happened in the middle of a party. Jiwoo and Haneul screamed at each other over something Jiwoo wouldn't, or maybe couldn't, share. Yoona stood in the corner as she watched Haneul storm out, leaving Jiwoo crumpled in the center of the chaos, tears streaking down her face.
Yoona hated watching that. Not that it mattered now. Not that Jiwoo would ever notice how Yoona never quite looked away.
Jiwoo catches her eye through the mirror, grinning. Oh, of course she does.
Yoona can’t even look away, because it’s Jiwoo, and Jiwoo’s... Jiwoo.
“We could just hold hands,” Yoona tries, weakly.
Jiwoo scoffs. “Please, as if she’d believe that. She’d seen us hold hands before.” She leans in slightly to the mirror, voice low and teasing. “Why, unnie, you scared?”
Yes.
“No.”
Jiwoo grins, like she’s heard it before. And maybe she has. Yoona realizes that Jiwoo probably doesn’t know how often she does get under Yoona’s skin.
“Okay, then sit still,” Jiwoo says, plopping down beside her again, effortlessly slipping back into her personal space like she has every right to be there.
Yoona exhales through her nose, trying to ignore the way her heart keeps jumping around in her chest like an idiot. She can’t help it. It’s Jiwoo. And Jiwoo seems to know exactly what she’s doing.
Probably.
Quite possibly so.
“Wait, I’m wearing it?”
“Duh?” Jiwoo laughs. “I cannot exactly kiss my own neck, you know? And it won’t look as good if you just try to draw it.”
Yoona stares at her. “You say that like you’ve tried.”
Jiwoo hums innocently.
Yoona does not want to unpack that. Whatever that entailed.
Instead, she lets Jiwoo apply the lipstick on her, watching as the blonde swipes the color across her lips. Yoona isn’t sure if she’s imagining it, but Jiwoo takes a little too long fixing the shape, lips parted slightly in concentration.
Yoona does not bite her lip. But it’s a near thing.
She thinks she’s being subtle, but her heartbeat’s already giving her away, and it’s not like she can distract herself by staring at the wall. Not when Jiwoo’s right there, eyes so focused on the task at hand, looking like she’s more than just applying makeup. The way her eyes narrow slightly as she shapes the curve. The way her lashes flutter just a little.
Yoona grits her teeth and grips her skirt. She’s not doing this, no. She’s not.
Jiwoo thumbs at the excess, and Yoona feels her own pulse quicken. She’s pretty sure her skin is on fire now. This whole situation is a disaster waiting to happen, and Yoona’s just standing in the middle of it.
“Looks good,” Jiwoo says, pulling back. Then, she adjusts her collar, baring even more skin. “Go crazy.”
Yoona stares. Jiwoo stares back expectantly. This is fine.
Just a normal day. Nothing weird about this.
Two good friends. In a room. No feet apart because… they’re gay?
It’s just that her entire body feels on high alert. She’s barely able to keep her hands steady as her brain does laps around the idea that, oh god, this is now really happening. And just to make things worse, Jiwoo’s eyes are full of that mischievous, teasing glint that’s so used to getting exactly what it wants. It’s fine. She can do this. This is fine. But, wait, wasn’t this supposed to be casual? Just a little mark? No big deal? Why is her heart hammering in her chest now? Why are her palms so sweaty?
Why, oh why, is she suddenly so aware of every inch of Jiwoo’s skin?
Jiwoo’s gaze softens, and her lips curl. “Backing out?”
Yoona’s mind goes blank.
Her throat feels dry, but she’s not sure why. It’s not like she hasn’t been in awkward situations before. She’s been here before. Many, many times! Except not like this. And not with Jiwoo. No, not like this.
“No,” Yoona says, more to herself than Jiwoo, and leans in slowly, her lips brushing against Jiwoo’s collarbone.
“Oh, harder than that,” Jiwoo scolds. “Make it convincing.”
Yoona rolls her eyes as she presses her lips a little firmer. The red lipstick stains Jiwoo’s skin, leaving behind a dark smudge. She wonders if Jiwoo notices how calm she is. How collected she is. She wonders if Jiwoo will ever ask.
After leaving a few more marks, Jiwoo hums in thought. She stands up and walks back to the mirror, tilting her head this way and that before pouting.
“What?” Yoona asks, already dreading the answer.
“They look so fake.”
Yoona blinks. “They’re what you wanted.”
Jiwoo turns to her, lips twitching. Oh no.
“Unnie—”
“No.”
“Come on.”
“Jiwoo.”
“Yoona-unnie.”
“This is—”
“—for me.” Jiwoo interrupts with a grin, sitting back down. She rests her chin on her palm, batting her lashes. “You love me, don’t you?”
That’s the problem.
Yoona swallows, tilting her head as if that’ll dislodge the rapidly forming bad ideas in her brain. Her lips hover over Jiwoo’s pulse point, close enough that she can feel her warmth. A second passes. Then another. She exhales. Jiwoo is warm. Too warm. Her pulse thrums under Yoona’s lips, and Yoona suddenly remembers that she should not be noticing this.
Then, like clockwork, just to make things worse, Jiwoo gasps.
Yoona jerks back. “What?”
“Need to charge my phone first.”
And then she just… gets up. Yoona watches in disbelief as Jiwoo casually plugs in her phone across the room. This is a normal reaction, obviously. Totally understandable. It’s not like Yoona’s entire mental stability was hanging on by a thread or anything.
Jiwoo comes back. Three buttons of her shirt undone. Yoona does not scream into her hands. But she wants to.
She leans in again, her brain going places. Very wonderful places. Places it should not be going. Her eyes flit to Jiwoo’s very exposed cleavage.
“Oh my God,” Jiwoo laughs. “Did you just look at my tits?”
“I did not—”
Jiwoo smirks. Smirks. “You did. Oh my God. You pervert.”
“I’m not.”
“You so are.”
Yoona grits her teeth and, without thinking, bites Jiwoo’s skin and sucks.
Jiwoo freezes.
Yoona does not.
Jiwoo’s hands land on her shoulders, gripping tight, and Yoona can’t stop. Can’t stop the rush of heat flooding her chest, can’t stop the way her breath catches in her throat every time she presses just a little harder. And, of course, Jiwoo just has to gulp. That sound shouldn’t do anything to her, right? Of course not.
Yoona pulls away, blinking at the mark she’s left behind. It’s just a little smudged, a little red, a little too real. Her gaze lingers on it longer than necessary, because now it’s there. And wow, it looks so good on Jiwoo’s skin like that.
Jiwoo blinks at her. Neither of them speak. Yoona’s still catching her breath, heart racing.
FUCK.
Then Jiwoo clears her throat. “That, uh. That was good.”
Yoona doesn’t know why her stomach flips at the words. She ignores it.
Or at least, she tries to.
Yoona doesn’t know how Jiwoo ended up on her lap. But here she is, shirt now fully unbuttoned. And Yoona’s leaving more marks from her neck down to her chest. She should be asking more questions, probably. Like: How did we get here? When did my hands end up on her waist? Why am I okay with this?
But Jiwoo sighs, tilting her head to give better access, as her fingers thread into Yoona’s hair, and suddenly, those questions seem very stupid. So Yoona, brilliant, level-headed Yoona, chooses to not think at all. Instead, she presses another kiss lower, feels Jiwoo tense, and hears her sharp inhale.
Then, Jiwoo laughs, breathless, and mutters, “Oh, she’s gonna lose it when she sees this.”
She lifts her phone, and takes a picture of the two of them. And just like that, Yoona is thinking again.
…Oh. Right. This was about Jiwoo’s ex.
Yoona sits back, trying, desperately, to pretend she isn't aware of the way Jiwoo’s legs are still draped over hers. Of the way Jiwoo's fingers are still lightly playing with the strands of hair near her neck.
This is fine. This is normal. This is—
“I think we need more,” Jiwoo muses, tilting her head as she inspects the marks on her skin using her phone camera. “Like, just a few more for effect.”
“Jiwoo.”
“Yoona-unnie.”
Yoona drags a hand down her face. This is... getting out of hand. But she can’t seem to stop it. Can’t seem to stop her mind from wandering every time Jiwoo does something so casually... intimate. Like this whole thing is just another fun game for her, and Yoona is too far gone to keep playing by the rules.
“You do realize she’s not actually going to study the marks on… on you, right?”
Jiwoo pouts. “I mean, she could. She’s dating a pre-med student.”
“That’s not how that works.”
But Jiwoo is already shifting on her lap again, getting comfortable in a way that is very, very unhelpful. Yoona barely manages to suppress a noise when Jiwoo’s hands rest against her shoulders again, her fingers drumming absently like this is just another Tuesday and not the actual unraveling of Yoona’s self-control.
“I think one on my thigh would really sell it,” Jiwoo says thoughtfully.
Yoona chokes.
Her pulse spikes, and she can’t tell if it’s from pure embarrassment or the sheer dangerousness of the thought. Her mouth goes dry, and she does her best to focus on anything else. Like the fact that she’s probably about to combust from sheer self-inflicted stress.
Jiwoo grins. “Oh? What’s this? Shy?”
Shy? Oh no. Yoona is not shy. Not right now, at least. She’s just… catastrophically aware of how her body is not behaving the way it should. She grips Jiwoo’s waist and moves her off, feeling her face burn in the process.
Okay, this is it. This is the point where I'll die.
“That’s enough,” she announces, standing up like she has to physically remove herself from the temptation of the entire situation. She gestures pointedly to Jiwoo’s very, very marked-up chest. “You have plenty of evidence. Exhibit A, B, C—probably the whole damn alphabet by now. If she doesn’t believe you, she has trust issues.”
Jiwoo, still sitting on Yoona’s bed, hums in amusement, running a finger over the deepest mark. “You’re good at this, unnie.”
Yoona does not let that get to her. She’s not going to let herself get caught in that trap.
She clears her throat and crosses her arms. “Yeah, well. Some of us had relationships that lasted, Jiwoo.”
That wipes the smirk off Jiwoo’s face real fast.
“Oh my God,” Jiwoo groans. “I will never live this down, will I?”
“Nope.” Yoona grins, feeling much better now. “Six whole months, and she dumped you for—what was it? A guy named Chanwoo?”
Jiwoo throws a pillow at her.
Yoona dodges easily, still grinning. “I mean, Jiwoo, come on. You lost to a Chanwoo. That’s a tough one.”
Jiwoo groans again, dragging her hands down her face. “He was a track star! He had a six-pack!”
“Yeah, well. I bet his GPA was lower than his resting heart rate.”
Jiwoo peeks through her fingers, lips twitching. “I hate that you’re probably right.”
“I’m definitely right.” Yoona sits back next to her. She nudges Jiwoo’s arm. “You posting those pics?”
“You know what?” Jiwoo sighs dramatically, tossing her phone and flopping back onto the bed. “It’s not worth it.”
“Why the sudden change of heart?”
“Hmm, don’t know.” Jiwoo looks over at her with a hint of sarcasm, lips curling. “Just don’t feel like it anymore.”
“I can't believe I snacked on your fucking neck for nothing.”
“It's not nothing.”
Yoona's heartbeat spikes, like her body’s just realized what she’s been trying to deny. She stares at Jiwoo, confused, hoping she can make sense of it.
Jiwoo's smile widens, that teasing edge in her voice. “Now I know you're really good with your mouth.”