Chapter Text
Day 5, December 26th.
The last morning, the last day. It surprises Jimin just how heavy the heart that sits in her chest feels. This was meant to be a short trip, purposefully, with plans on either side of the journey home to soften the blow. Jimin hadn't expected that she wouldn't want to leave when December 26th rolled around.
She can't stay—she knows, a friendly dinner on the 27th, studying for the last few assignments on the 28th. She has to go home, the one she shares with Minjeong, but the desire to stay here, in her childhood home, tugs at her limbs, holds her to the bed.
Not that she at all minds lying here right now. She's got a girlfriend (Jimin still can't believe it, if she's honest) resting against her chest, an arm thrown across her waist, the scent of vanilla dragging deep into her lungs with every inhale. If Minjeong hadn't already taken her to heaven with her lips underneath the mistletoe last night, Jimin would assume she is there now.
"Do you think they know?" Jimin muses, idly combing through Minjeong's hair.
A giggle kisses the feverish skin of Jimin's throat. "We came back inside with very messy hair, and you were suddenly wearing my lip gloss," Minjeong teases, breathy and light in the early hours of the morning. "They definitely know. Does that bother you?"
Jimin tightens the arm wrapped around Minjeong's shoulder, keeping her close as the sun starts to rise. "It makes me a little embarrassed," Jimin confesses, cheeks reddening. "They thought we were dating before."
"Did they tease you?" Minjeong asks, following an entirely ungraceful snort that brings a smile to Jimin's face.
"Obviously."
"My parents also think we are dating, if that helps." Minjeong reshuffles to press more of herself against Jimin, seeking the warmth of her body even with all the blankets that cocoon them.
Jimin blinks. "For how long?" She's still not quite there with it—the idea of so brazenly being who you are, and letting people make up fables to pass along to others regardless. In Jimin's head, she's never really been anything, and she's not entirely sure if she's ready to be seen as something, true or not. A lesbian, dating Minjeong, a member of this family, a student about to graduate, someone with a future waiting with open arms.
Or, just someone.
It makes her feel exposed; cut open by a jagged knife that bears too much flesh and scar tissue.
"Ever since I first mentioned you, I think," Minjeong muses idly, more interested in the way her body fits against Jimin like a puzzle piece with only one place in the world.
Maybe it shouldn't shock Jimin, but it does. "And you never corrected them, why?" Jimin asks, dropping her chin to shoot an incredulous look at Minjeong.
A wide grin stretches across Minjeong's lips. "Because I knew we'd end up together, eventually."
It's too early in the morning for Minjeong to flirt with Jimin like this. "Ew," Jimin tries her best to deflect attention away from the fluttering of her pulse, the pounding of her heart that Minjeong can definitely feel against her own skin.
"What? I mean it!" Minjeong continues in between laughter, pinning Jimin to the bed so that she can't wriggle away. "It's not my fault you were obviously in love with me, too."
Jimin's internal temperature runs a fever. "Well, uh, I–"
She doesn't really have a comeback for that, if she's honest. It's so jarring for her, the concept of someone peeling back the iron walls she hadn't realised stood proud as if they were nothing more than skin on a banana. For someone to see what rippled beneath the surface, when Jimin didn't realise she was caught in a riptide.
Jimin sucks in a sharp breath. "Thank you."
Minjeong raises an eyebrow, still hovering above, resting on her palms, either side of Jimin's head. "What for?"
Jimin sees the way her lip twitches, a glint in her eye masked by concern. The desire to make a joke, to tease, to smooth over the palpable, anxiety-riddled cracks in Jimin's foundation. Yet, Minjeong leaves it as that–doesn't push, because she knows Jimin well enough to know that something's on her mind. Jimin couldn't be more grateful that the person to see her fully, every fading ember, each sharp edge, all the softness hidden underneath, is Minjeong.
"Everything, I guess. For moving in with me, for being such a good friend…" Jimin trails off, swallowing easily when Minjeong's lips curl into a small smile. "For knowing me inside out, even in the dark. For loving me through these years, for waiting for me to realise that I love you back."
Minjeong cups Jimin's cheek with one hand, an impressive balancing act, really. "None of those things are anything you would ever need to thank me for."
Jimin nods and then asks a question that's been lingering on her mind like salt in the air ever since last night. "How long would you have waited?"
"For you?" Jimin nods. "Forever," Minjeong answers in a heartbeat, the same one Jimin entrusted with keeping safe.
Jimin's not quite sure how she does it, but she offers a new piece of herself in each moment, knowing that Jimin will handle it with care. Jimin supposes yesterday was a good place to start. "Really?" Jimin replies, rolling slightly so they're both back on the bed, face to face, so Minjeong doesn't throw her back out in her early twenties.
"What, thought I gave my feelings for you an expiration date?" Minjeong jokes, nuzzling closer, as her voice slips into something softer, more sacred. "I couldn't imagine being with anyone else—there's nobody else for me to wait for."
Jimin's brain could barely keep up with the flirting this early in the morning, let alone a declaration like that, one that sears into her skin, rewrites her DNA. So, Jimin does the only thing that she thinks can aptly convey the love that now trickles through her veins instead of blood.
She kisses Minjeong. Slowly, gently, savouring every second that their lips meet, she kisses Minjeong. In her childhood home, tangled together in between the sheets of her childhood bed, and Minjeong dwarfed by one of her old shirts, she kisses Minjeong.
Again, and again.
⋆.˚
They meander downstairs sometime during the mid-morning. Only after Jimin's mom calls for them repeatedly and they realise they can't hide in the blankets and each other's body heat any longer. They're still in their pyjamas when they walk into the kitchen, remnants of sleep crusting the corners of their eyes, hands interlocked.
Jimin's mom is fussing over the stove when she notices them, both clad in aprons. She takes one look at them before letting out an affectionate, yet still laced with exasperation, sigh. "Finally," she states, sliding past a flushed Jimin to open the fridge and yell over her shoulder. "I don't have time to congratulate you two. Minjeong, put on an apron, Jimin, make yourself useful by the cupboard!"
Minjeong immediately detaches to find her new uniform for the day, while Jimin stands like a complete fucking idiot in her own kitchen. Some things never change. "What are we doing?" Jimin asks with a raised eyebrow.
"What the hell do you think I'm doing? The whole family will be here in a few hours!"
Oh. Shit. Jimin completely forgot.
The entire family. Probable homophobic Grandma.
Minjeong. Joohyun's fiancé, who is a woman.
Together.
Fun.
While she's not entirely sure what her mom is cooking on the stove, Jimin thinks, no, knows, that this day is a recipe for disaster.
Jimin, even before she took a three-year sabbatical from the Yu's, was not close with her extended family, bar a cousin or two. She's not even sure how many cousins she has, in total, and definitely can't remember if her Grandpa is still alive. Jimin knows that everyone, ghost or not, will be in attendance very shortly. Everyone. Jimin doesn't know if she's even been at a gathering with every single one before today.
Panic starts to seep in the same way poisonous gas infiltrates the body through the lungs, each worry slipping further into her flesh with each inhale. She wasn't here for three Christmases in a row; how is she supposed to explain suddenly materialising for the fourth? Did her Mom send out a text to the family group chat, notifying them all that the black sheep has returned to its' flock, or, rather, had any of them even known she was gone?
She… doesn't know, she realises. The thought of today unfolding is akin to Jimin walking into a Saw trap, blindfolded and with her hands tied behind her back. Grandma will play the role of Jigsaw, of course.
Oh, God—What the fuck does she do about Minjeong? Does she rip the band-aid off early and announce that she's both a lesbian and dating the happy stranger in their living room? Could she pass Minjeong off as her roommate, or is Joohyun planning to do the same with Seulgi?
In Jimin's opinion, it would be entirely unconvincing for both her and her older sister to have their long-term gal pal roommates over for Christmas. Painfully so. Besides, her Grandma may be old, but she's not senile. One look at Minjeong's lovesick puppy eyes and the entire jig would be up.
The problem, Jimin realises, is that so many things could happen, and most of them are not very good. At all. Her breath comes out in strained pants as the scenarios run through her head at 100 miles an hour. The possibilities are endless.
What if…
None of her family members even recognises Jimin, and she has to spend the whole day reminding 30 people that she is a member of this family, and no, she didn't die a few years ago.
Or,
a nosy aunt immediately clocks that Minjeong is Jimin's girlfriend, and she has to spend the rest of her trip hiding in her room out of sheer fear.
Or,
Joohyun introduces Seulgi as her lover, and they all have a lovely debate about gay rights over some turkey.
Or—
It goes on and on like a rollercoaster Jimin is trapped on—her nervous system fighting for its life as she stands in her kitchen. Her knees buckle slightly, forcing her hunched as her shoulders drag her down, that pit in her stomach growing and growing and growing.
Back in reality, Jimin's mom hands her some flour, and she hangs onto it for dear life, mouth gaping like a fish out of water. Minjeong brushes past her with surprising efficiency for someone who was dragged out of bed no less than three minutes ago. "Keep up," Minjeong teases, bumping their shoulder's together with that goddamn grin that, as those podcasts say, could light up any room, before it twists into something more strained. "No, seriously. We need to lock in, Jimin. You can have a panic attack later." Minjeong finishes, eyeing Jimin's mom, squeezing Jimin's arm in a way that feels more like mutual worry than reassurance.
Jimin follows her gaze. The poor woman is back at the stove, staring at the contents of this pot with such thinly veiled aggression, Jimin wonders if she might throw it out the window. She's never seen her mom this stressed—ever. It washes over her in that moment just how at ease her mom had been during their stay, the opposite of the fraying fabric stretched taut before her. That her coming home had, maybe, had everything to do with that. How she's neglected being a daughter for maybe her entire life, how this is a chance to cross the bridge her mom had been building over the course of the trip.
She shares a look with Minjeong, and Minjeong offers her a shaky thumbs up.
Just like that, Jimin's back in the game. She's very paranoid right now, yes, but there's a part of her brain that kicks into gear and shoves that paranoia somewhere very deep. Jimin needs to focus; she needs to help her mom.
She rolls up her sleeves with trembling fingers as the flames of anxiety continue to flicker. "What do I do with this flour, Mom?"
⋆.˚
It is on this day, day 5 of their trip, December 26th, that Jimin learns that she could never be a professional chef. Or work anywhere in a professional kitchen. She starts as a porter, of sorts, fetching whatever ingredients her mom and Minjeong beg for, since Minjeong's been entrusted to prepare and bake six different desserts. With Minjeong based in their second kitchen, Jimin feels like she's running a relay that never ends as she moves between the pantry, the main kitchen and Minjeong. Still, the sweet kisses she gets from Minjeong as a reward after every successful delivery make it worth it.
Kind of.
This arrangement, however, creates a level of noise Jimin didn't think her childhood home had ever accomplished.
"Jimin! Where the hell did you put the flour?!" Her mother cries while Jimin tries to juggle four different jars of jam.
Three cracks of shells meeting tile echo from the other kitchen. "Babe, I need more eggs, now!"
"Give me a second!"
It doesn't last very long, maybe a very nightmarish half an hour, because, apparently, four hands are not adequate to feed thirty, and, as a result, Jimin gets promoted, sort of. She's not sure if she should be happy about it, if she's honest. Running between the three rooms was stressful enough, but now, she's surrounded by more vegetables than she's eaten in all her years of living, with her Mom barking very unhelpful orders at her. The knife trembles between her fingers as she tries to move efficiently, and tries not to throw a bell pepper at someone's head.
"Jimin! That is not at all how you julienne vegetables!" Jimin's mom complains, sounding utterly appalled by her daughter's lack of formal training.
Minjeong shrieks from the other room. "I need eggs, again!"
Jimin's heart pounds in her chest; she just has one more strip of pepper to cut, then she can go and help—
"Wai—Fuck!"
Blood drips onto the cutting board, and the Spider-Man band-aids get brought out for the second time in two days. Thus, Jimin is demoted quickly to a potwash because they keep running out of dishes, and Minjeong strongly urges her to leave anything sharp alone.
It's all starting to feel something like Overcooked 3: The Family Gathering.
Jimin, fatally injured, water splashing all over her front as she frantically tries to clean the revolving door of dishes and utensils. Minjeong, crying as yet another mousse fails to set. Jimin's mom, stirring four different things at once, two other things in the oven, all while finding time to yell at Joohyun when she walks into the kitchen to announce that Seulgi is on her way from the airport.
By this point, egg on the floor, gochujang paste in someone's hair, blood on the counters…the wheels have well and truly, completely fallen off. And then the vehicle itself drove straight off a cliff.
Everyone is yelling at someone else, like Minjeong when she swats at Jimin's dad with a wooden spoon for trying to eat her finally successful batch of cookies. Everyone is yelling at something, like Jimin's mom as an oven begins to smoke.
Jimin needs a break. Like, now. She 'sneaks' into the secondary kitchen, smoothly sliding behind Minjeong as she loops her arms around her waist, nuzzling the side of her neck in greeting, before lowering her gaze to the counter. Jimin has no idea what she's looking at; it could be anything, really.
A flattened waffle. Penis-shaped dough. Anything. "What'd you make, baby?" Jimin tries, tapering off a little higher than she would like.
Minjeong sniffles. "Bungeoppang."
Jimin squints and tilts her head. "Oh," her lips part around the word breathlessly, because, in all honesty, she wouldn't have guessed that. She can kind of see it now, though. Kind of. What vaguely resembles testicles can be interpreted as a fish tail, under the right lighting. Maybe in the dark? "Good job, Minjeongie." Jimin tightens her grip around Minjeong's waist in hopes she won't turn around and see the laugh threatening to fall from her lips.
A pitiful, punched-out whine bubbles from Minjeong's throat. "It's ugly." Another sniffle, a fist weakly coming down in defeat on the counter. "You hate it, don't you?"
⋆.˚
They're banished from the kitchen shortly after; Jimin's mom citing the two of them as the main cause of her headache. Jimin won't complain about her firing; she's grateful. If anything, Minjeong takes it a little harder.
"Do you think your mom's mad that my bungeoppang is so ugly?"
Jimin slides her jeans over her hips, the good pair, so nobody over the age of forty comments on scissors attacking the fabric. "No, baby."
"Will your cousins make fun of it?" Minjeong bites her lip, smoothing the fabric of her skirt over her legs.
Yes, Jimin thinks. "No," Jimin says. If the cousins won't, Joohyun definitely will. "Since when did you care what anyone thinks of you and your baking skills?"
Minjeong turns to the bed to pick up her sweater, one half of the matching set. "They're your family," she says with a shrug.
Jimin doesn't move. "You didn't care when they were my family yesterday."
It's a little foreign for nervous energy to ripple across Minjeong's skin—trembling fingers, quivering lips—it makes Jimin want to bundle her into a blanket and hide them both in her room all day. They can't, she knows, but it doesn't take away from the want.
"It's different now that we are dating," Minjeong sighs, slipping the sweater over her head. "I want them to like m—isn't this sweater so cute?" Minjeong cuts herself off with the squealing question, doing a little spin in the mirror, eyes sparkling.
Jimin is getting a little tired of lying to her girlfriend. Historically and globally, there has never been a cute Christmas sweater, if you ask Jimin. This one is…alright, Jimin would reluctantly say. Her one is blue, a color she actually likes, and pretty soft, Jimin could admit as she stares at the offending article of clothing folded neatly on her bed.
"You look so cute." It's not a lie. She can get away with it.
Minjeong pouts in the mirror. "We'll both look cute," she tries, nudging her head towards Jimin, prompting her to put her own on.
Jimin avoids her eyes, so soft and round as they try to meet her own through the reflective glass, cheeks aflame. "Fine."
Minjeong beams. Minjeong always wins, apparently, but it's worth it if it means that a smile can be brought back to Minjeong's face. When they kiss, Minjeong's lips are a little sweeter when Jimin is the cause of that same smile.
⋆.˚
They're back in the kitchen when the doorbell rings, idly checking on baked goods and set creams in the fridge, offering words of support to Jimin's mom. It's shrill as it bounces around the house. It's like a siren, Jimin thinks, a warning one at that, for what? It could be anything. An armageddon of aunties asking her what she will do once she graduates. An apocalypse of small children underneath her feet. An annihilation standing behind the front door.
Jimin's mom stops stirring, wiping her hands on her apron steadily. "Show time."
At least she's faring better.
Jimin and Minjeong trail behind her somewhat awkwardly on their way to the front lines. On instinct, Minjeong reaches for Jimin's hand, searches for shelter in the storm, only for Jimin to brush her off. They both swallow the hurt; it's bitter on their tongues.
Jimin's mom sucks in a deep breath before fixing a polite smile on her face as she slides the deadbolt. Something inside Jimin twists in the agonising seconds it takes for the door to open–maybe her stomach tying itself in another knot, maybe flesh trying to unfix itself from bone. She doesn't have time to figure it out, because the door swings open and reveals–
Jimin has no idea who this is. It's a woman, a few years older than her, she thinks, who sort of resembles a teddy bear. Apparently, no one knows who this is, as the three of them stare at the woman before them. Minjeong gets a pass; she's not expected to know.
"Uh, hello," the woman before them says quietly, shifting her weight between her feet. "Is this the Yu household?" Palpable anxiety radiates from her because, clearly, there wasn't enough of that to go around.
"Yeah, that's us," Jimin finds herself saying.
Relief washes over the woman before them, eyes shifting into crescents that would be positively adorable if she were not a stranger standing at their front door. Just like that, just like Minjeong, the woman lights up like a Christmas tree. "Oh, great! I was so worried I read the address wrong, your house is, like, really difficult to find, and the Uber driver got a bit lost, and—"
Jimin's mom blinks rapidly. "I'm sorry, dear, but who are you?"
The woman doesn't get a chance to answer for herself, because Joohyun comes barrelling down the stairs and straight out the front door at the speed of sound. Within the blink of a very confused eye, she throws herself at the woman, almost sending them both to the ground. "You made it!"
It registers in Jimin's mind then, evidently, her mom's too.
Seulgi. Another gay woman. Not probable homophobe Grandma. Christmas isn't ruined yet.
⋆.˚
Jimin has to excuse herself to the bathroom within twenty minutes of Seulgi's arrival. It's not Seulgi's fault, far from it. She had offered Jimin a warm hug with an even warmer body and said she was happy to finally meet the youngest sister she'd heard so much about. It was sweet, a short olive branch that Jimin reached out and took, so they don't have to feel awkward skirting around each other all day. Seulgi made no comment about Jimin's obvious lesbian lover trailing them both like an excited little puppy, but she did automatically guess that she was Minjeong with a knowing smile.
Jimin isn't sure if she should feel good about that or not. On the one hand, she doesn't have to try to explain who Minjeong is to her; on the other hand, this suggests that Seulgi already knew. What exactly had Joohyun said about them? Did she call her this morning, exasperated, explaining that her stupid little sister finally realised she was a lesbian and started dating her best friend?
Regardless, it's their parents who are making it uncomfortable, not just for Joohyun and Seulgi, but for everyone. The previous twenty minutes have been painful. Excessively so. So much so that Jimin is unbelievably grateful that Minjeong was introduced to her parents as a friend first.
"So, how did you two actually meet? Was it love at first sight?" A little invasive, Jimin had thought, but at least their answers of 'on a dating app' sound less stupid than Jimin and Minjeong's painful tale of yearning.
"And what do you do for work? You do work, right?" Classy.
"Why haven't you proposed yet? Gay marriage is legal, you know." About as subtle as a hand grenade.
A knock startles Jimin. "Occupied."
"Jimin," Minjeong whines, pounding against the door with more vigour now. "You can't just leave me out here to watch this car crash!" Jimin can practically hear the pout on her lips. "Even I can't fix this! Stop hiding!"
She unlocks the door swiftly, grabbing Minjeong by the sleeve of her sweater. "I have a better idea," Jimin says, dragging Minjeong into the bathroom and locking the door behind her with a slick grin. "Let's just hide together."
⋆.˚
They have to peel themselves off each other when another knock comes a few minutes later, only for it to be Joohyun asking to hide with them. Jimin almost can't believe she left Seulgi out to dry, but, then again, she just did the same to Minjeong, so she lets her in. Joohyun makes a comment about shared lip gloss, and Jimin threatens to throw her back to the wolves. They hide in silence after that.
⋆.˚
Five minutes later, the Yu siblings are dragged back into the living room by their ears courtesy of their mom, while Minjeong trails sheepishly behind them.
⋆.˚
An hour or so later, Jimin feels sufficiently awkward. She's been avoiding everyone, naturally, and so has Seulgi. By default, they've snuck into the second kitchen where Minjeong's desserts set and cool.
"Does she bake often?" Seulgi asks, making conversation as she takes a sip of her eggnog.
Jimin's not drinking because she gets to spend the evening driving for 5 hours. Because this day actually could get worse, apparently. It'll be even worse if Minjeong keeps on drinking, she realises. She is not having her girlfriend vomit in her car. She won't stand for it.
"Not this much," Jimin tries to joke, and it comes out a little tight, like she's being strangled. She's never been much of a talker, but never this bad. How desperately she wants a glass of something to hide behind. Why has she genuinely forgotten how to speak to people?
Seulgi seems to notice, chuckling lightly. "I don't bite, Jimin."
Jimin bristles. "I'm just not good with new people," Jimin explains, looking to the door as laughter filters through the crack. "Or family I haven't seen for so long that they feel like new people."
Seulgi nods, shuffling a little closer, comfort if Jimin wants to reach out and take it. "I get it, I feel the same right now," Seulgi says with a small sigh. "I am a stranger to everyone in this house."
"I feel like one," Jimin mumbles, crossing her arms over her chest.
A part of her longs to go out there, to join in the fun. She can almost picture what's happening behind the closed door. Minjeong entertaining the masses with a story she probably shouldn't be sharing with future in-laws, her dad, half asleep on the couch, already trying to entertain his brothers, and her mom shooing every small child away from the kitchen with a weapon of her choosing. Possibly a broom.
"You've had an overwhelming few days," Seulgi observes, taking another sip, and now Jimin's wondering if all that time Joohyun spent texting was to provide Seulgi with a running commentary.
Jimin thinks she should stiffen, should brush off the woman who seemingly knows too much, but there's something in the way she says it, so understanding, that reminds Jimin of Minjeong. Something that reminds her, it would be good to do the opposite. "I really have."
Seulgi puts her drink down on the counter, bumping Jimin's shoulder. "Coming out to yourself, let alone other people, can be a really big deal. It certainly was for me."
Jimin thinks she should enquire about that, desires to understand someone else's experience and compare it to her own. It'll make her feel less alone, she thinks, but maybe now, hiding in the kitchen at a family gathering, is not exactly the right time. "I feel much better now, though," Jimin says, even as she shifts her weight on her feet.
It's not a lie, but it's not the full truth either. She does feel better—each step a little lighter, each breath a little easier, but—
"Doesn't mean that it's not a big deal, and it hasn't taken a lot from you."
Seulgi hits the nail on the head and tucks it neatly into a coffin. Jimin has no answer to that, so she pivots a little. "I just don't think I'm ready to jump the last hurdle."
"Maybe it's only a hurdle in your head," Seulgi replies, a wry smile crossing her mouth. "Maybe this could be the best day of your life, if you let it."
Jimin narrows her eyes. "What was your job, again? Are you a therapist, or something?"
"A therapist? God, no! Perhaps in another life…" Seulgi trails off, a grin flickering across her face now. "Why? Do you think I'm good at this?"
Jimin has no answer for that either, flushing a little under the question.
Seulgi continues the conversation, anyway. "Seriously, did any of this trip sound fun before you came? I assume not, but Joohyun's told me all about having you back. It seems like it's been a pretty good time."
Jimin, finally, feels the ghost of a smile. "I mean, yeah." The smile shifts into a frown. "Still, none of the trip has been easy, and I don't think walking back in there will be, either."
"Nothing worthwhile ever is." Seulgi taps her fingers against the counter, looking at Jimin fondly. "Did it feel ready or easy to magically realise you were a lesbian in love with your best friend?"
It's meant to be a bit of a tease, and it hits the mark, even as Jimin's cheeks flush a brighter crimson. The five gay quizzes' results echo in her brain like a taunt. Really, she should've just stopped after the first one. "Well, no."
"If you think about it," Seulgi begins to muse, picking up her drink to down the last of it. Jimin's never known eggnog to make anyone philosophical or really good at communicating, but this trip has been filled with so many firsts that she's no longer surprised. "If we all waited until we felt ready to do something, nothing would be done."
Jimin knows that to be entirely true, and the truth rings in her head like a bell. She wouldn't have gone to university, she wouldn't have moved in with a stranger, and then let another stranger take her place some time later. She wouldn't have let Minjeong into her life. She wouldn't have let Minjeong into her heart. She wouldn't have come home.
"I see what Joohyun loves about you," Jimin says kindly, bumping Seulgi's shoulder, and she means it entirely. So patient, calm, guiding, even a little dorky in places—the perfect match, or maybe that's just how Seulgi is with her. Perhaps she's already taking on the role of another big sister for Jimin. Jimin won't complain; she thinks her heart has room for one more.
"I see what Minjeong loves about you."
Jimin giggles, all girly and high-pitched. Minjeong loves her—how wonderful. Seulgi takes that as a sign to direct the conversation back to its original plot. "Neither of us have to feel like strangers today." A patient smiles crosses Seulgi's lips, another coax.
"Did Joohyun tell you to chaperone me?" Jimin accuses, eyes narrowed and cheeks flushed. "She briefed you, didn't she? That I might spend all day hiding."
Seulgi chuckles again, which gives her away completely. "Maybe."
Jimin doesn't know how to feel about that. Her sister cares so much that she made sure she was looked after today. She's so transparent that a sister she's barely close to can see right through her, as if she were made of glass.
"Come on, I'm sure the rest of your family would love to see you."
Jimin doesn't think so; she thinks homophobic Grandma may be lurking within the sea of bodies. "I'm okay here." She makes no effort to move, feet firmly planted on the tile floor.
"Come on, Jimin." Seulgi tries again, still smiling, still patient. "What's the worst that could happen?"
Jimin already went through that in her head earlier.
Seulgi tries again. "If it goes really badly, I can propose to Joohyun in the living room, even if that would make me really anxious, if you need a distraction that badly."
That settles it, then.
⋆.˚
Jimin sees her dad first, mimicking what she thinks is a golf swing with his brothers. Jimin didn't know that anyone in her family played golf. She doesn't know why anyone would play golf. Next, she spots Joohyun across the room, necking a glass of wine while nodding along half–heartedly to what their aunt is currently saying. Probably trying to convince her to join her company, Jimin imagines, a recurring theme since both she and Joohyun were old enough to understand what a job was. No takers for something Jimin is convinced is a pyramid scheme, unsurprisingly.
She looks further and sees people everywhere: on the staircase, by the fire, lingering by the french doors, some even outside in the surprisingly warm December weather. The snow didn't stick last night, clearly only for show during her first kiss with Minjeong. Jimin will reluctantly admit that yes, the snow did make it all the more romantic.
She doesn't know why she is at all surprised to see Minjeong in the centre of the room, surrounded by almost everyone. Jimin and Seulgi cling to the edge for now, Seulgi offering polite smiles to every cousin that looks at her like she's an axe murderer, and Jimin taking in the scene.
It should reignite the fire of anxiety that flickers in her chest, a huge number of people crowding her main shelter in the storm. It doesn't, not really, maybe a few stray sparks. More than anything, she's proud, fond as she looks at Minjeong.
She's shining.
In the centre of it all, throwing her head back in laughter, bright eyes glimmering underneath the soft lighting, entirely adorable in that damn sweater, in Jimin's childhood home.
Exactly where she is meant to be, Jimin thinks. There's no doubt about it, none at all, as her bubbling laughter bounces around and hits Jimin in the chest. It's so warm as it sinks into her heart, so infectious, that Jimin can't help but let out a small laugh from just watching Minjeong entirely in her element.
It shouldn't surprise her, either, that Minjeong eventually finds her. She always seems to, no matter where they are. In their apartment when Jimin's had a long day and hides from the world in her bedroom, across the courtyard on campus even as a million bodies bustle past them both. Anywhere, really, Minjeong will always find her, Jimin is sure.
With patient brown eyes that dive deep into a pooling love and a softer smile tugging at the corners of her mouth, Minjeong beckons Jimin to join her with a single crooked finger. Suddenly, the temperature in the room drops a few hundred degrees, a quiet lulls, because most of the eyes in the room land on Jimin.
Including probable homophobe Grandma, who, for whatever reason, is one of the many planets orbiting Minjeong's sun.
It's like a heart attack when it hits Jimin. That squeezing pressure in her chest, radiating to every nerve ending, the cold sweat dusting her skin until she feels faint. Or, her body bracing for impact, tensing entirely before the inevitable crash. Regardless of how it feels each time, Jimin knows the feeling well. Panic; she's panicking, and Minjeong knows, Minjeong always knows.
Minjeong's gaze doesn't waver; it doesn't give up or run away. It stays stuck onto her like glue, coaxing and guiding—Jimin doesn't realise she's moving until a few steps later when Seulgi's hand is no longer pressed to her shoulder in reassurance.
A few family members stand between Jimin and Minjeong, and yeah, if Jimin's honest, she wants to bypass them completely and run straight into Minjeong's arms. Seulgi and Minjeong's voices flicker in Jimin's mind.
"I think they're lovely."
"Neither of us have to be strangers today."
Images play like a movie.
Minjeong hugging her parents.
The entire Christmas tree debacle.
Jimin thinks she should start giving people a chance.
⋆.˚
It takes Jimin approximately 20 minutes to reach Minjeong because, apparently, when someone disappears from a family for 3 years, the family has many questions. Who could've guessed?
"You've been at university this whole time?" Sure, yes, let's go with that.
"You've grown so tall!" She has no recollection of ever meeting this man.
"You're thinking about internships after university? We'd love to have you at my compa–" Can her aunt ever take a hint?
Finally, she slides next to Minjeong in the centre of the room, offering polite smiles all around. Her Grandma received a particularly strained one.
"Hey," Minjeong greets softly. "We were just talking about you."
Arguably, one of the worst things to hear at any given time, let alone at a family gathering. An uncle chuckles, lightly hitting Jimin's back. A cousin grins before taking a sip of her wine. Probable homophobe Grandma doesn't move.
"What were you guys talking about?" Jimin asks as she forces her eye not to twitch.
This could be anything. The Uber vomit incident. The singular attempt at recreational drugs that ended in a panic attack and a trip to the ER. The concept of it taking: one ex-boyfriend, one lesbian situationship, one crush on her best friend, and five gay quizzes to realise she's a lesbian.
"How much you hate that sweater," Minjeong teases, and the tension in Jimin's shoulders deflates instantly, a small smile coating her lips like gloss.
"I think it's cute," her cousin, God, Jimin can't remember this girl's name, says.
Jimin's cheeks flush a little. "I mean, this one is nice, I'm just not really a sweater person, you know? Like, I'd rather wear a hoodie, or—"
Amidst Jimin's slightly panicked rambling, Grandma says her piece. "I think you two make a very cute pair."
Somebody gasps; it might've been Minjeong. Jimin's heart seizes in her chest, stomach six feet under, her soul about to join it. She thinks she may have misheard. "A pair of best friends…?" Jimin asks, voice barely above a whisper and tapering off at the end with genuine fear.
Is the jig up? Is her Grandma secretly a bloodhound for gay women? Has she sussed out Joohyun and Seulgi, too?
Her Grandma looks at Jimin like she's grown a second head. "A cute couple," she corrects herself, in the same monotone statement as the first. The thing about Jimin's Grandma is that she doesn't speak much, but when she does, it's usually mean. This is… absurd.
Nobody else seems to care—her cousin is nodding enthusiastically, her uncle smiles fondly before walking toward his own wife. Parallel universe theory is once again back on the table. "A couple of frie—"
Jimin doesn't get to finish the sentence.
"You silly child," Grandma says with a roll of her eyes, the most expression Jimin has seen on this woman's face in a decade. "Cute girlfriends, is that better? You weren't this stupid the last time I saw you."
Jimin lets the insult and the fact that she was just called a child roll off her skin like rainwater.
"Oh, that's so sweet!" Minjeong says, wrapping an arm around Jimin's shoulder, offering a firm squeeze as Jimin's mouth continues to gape. "That's really sweet, isn't it, Jimin?"
Jimin can barely get the words out of her own mouth. "You don't care, I mean, like, you're? Fine with me? Us? Huh?"
"Why would I care about that, silly child?" Jimin once again resists the urge to correct her Grandma, while the look on the older woman's face turns slightly pensive, almost wistful. "You know, back when I went to university, I did a little experimenting myself."
Nobody makes a single sound once that bomb is dropped, until an army of seven-year-olds barrage past the couch and straight into Minjeong, screaming all the way. Jimin has never been so happy not to hear the end of a story.
⋆.˚
She plays with them all for a while before her back begins to hurt. Then, she's back to the edges like before, but not on edge herself. It's an affectionate observation, primarily focused on Minjeong. How she so naturally complies with these children's requests, picking them up and spinning them around as she chats with whoever passes her on the way, how easily she gives Jimin the strength to stay in the room, how undeniably right it is for Minjeong to be here in this moment.
How undeniably right it is for Minjeong to be hers.
The same cousin from earlier slides, next to her, Yeri, or Yuna, Jimin can't really remember. She hopes it's Yeri, because Yu Yuna is a bit of a mouthful. "I'm so glad you came this year, Jimin." Yeri or Yuna says, body sagging into the wall. "No offence to the little ones or Joohyun, but you're the only one who's the same age as me."
It clicks in Jimin's head who the other girl is now. Yena. Close enough with the name, and a flood of memories reaches Jimin rather fondly. They've only been in the same room a handful of times; two of them were at funerals, if she remembers correctly, and given her track record with the poor girl's name, it was more likely three. Still, Jimin can remember.
Playing hide and seek in the church during at least one of those funerals, because, really, at 4 years old, neither of them understood death or really knew the twice-removed aunt who died. Sneaking extra dessert at that one birthday celebration, possibly gay Grandma had, stuffing their pockets full of brownies.
"I'm really glad I came this year, too," Jimin says, a grin finding its way to her lips. "Remember when your mom caught us trying to set fire to that bit of paper?"
They were eleven, very bored, and it seemed like a good idea at the time.
Yena turns as white as the previously mentioned paper. "Stop! It's taken me almost a decade to get my mom to forget about that!"
Jimin goes to tease her further, but a child's cry cracks across the room like a whip. It's one of those moments where everyone freezes, waiting for someone to do something. It's Minjeong who does, scooping the child into her arms with soft coos, hugging him close to her chest.
"She's pretty great, you know," Yena says, biting her lip to stifle a laugh at how genuinely lovestruck Jimin looks in this moment.
"Yeah," Jimin breathes out, lips parting in awe. "She really is."
Yena suddenly groans. "She's nothing like my boyfriend, seriously. He's such a loser; you're so lucky to be dating a girl. I'd date a girl, if I were, you know, a lesbian—"
Jimin tunes out the rest like static on a radio, and lunch couldn't be served any quicker.
⋆.˚
After collecting portions large enough to feed everyone at the gathering, Jimin guides Minjeong toward the patio outside. There's a biting breeze floating through the trees bordering their expansive backyard, but the sun still shines through, making it bearable to be outside.
"It was getting really humid inside," Minjeong notes as she sits at the outdoor seating area, sinking into the cushions. "Thank you for saving me."
Jimin nods like she agrees, and not at all like her reasoning was that she just wanted to spend some time alone with Minjeong. "And loud."
Minjeong giggles before stabbing at some salad. "Very loud, but it's been a really fun day, don't you think?"
The day replays in Jimin's head. She's not really sure fun is the right word for it. "I'm glad we came on this trip," Jimin says instead, much more of a truth for her than Minjeong's previous statement. "I'm really glad you came with me."
Minjeong grins, hard—so hard that Jimin can see some lettuce stuck between her teeth, and Jimin's never found Minjeong so beautiful in the two years they've spent together. "I'm really glad you let me," Minjeong says.
Jimin reaches for her hand across the table, fingers interlocked, and they stay connected for the remainder of lunch.
⋆.˚
The sky has darkened almost inexplicably so by the time they re-enter the house with empty plates and very full stomachs. Daylight savings and the winter solstice happen every single year, and, somehow, it never fails to shock every single person on earth.
"Goodness, it's dark outside," Jimin's mom calls over her shoulder as they come into the kitchen.
Minjeong pouts. "It makes me sad."
Of course it does, Jimin thinks, as she silently takes Minjeong's plant from her hands and adds it to the ever-growing stack on the island. "You should've used paper plates," Jimin jokes, before sliding back up to Minjeong, a hand around her waist.
Minjeong leans into it, dropping her head on Jimin's shoulder. "I would hate to deal with this." Not at all a subtle hint that she would rather die than partake in the activity.
Jimin's mom snorts, a grin stretching across her lips. "Don't worry—your dad is cleaning them tomorrow."
Easy laughter flows between all three of them. This makes sense, Jimin thinks; the three of them standing here, talking, entirely comfortable in a house that has now become a home. Jimin goes to say something when a sound shatters the blanket of affectionate energy that had enveloped the kitchen.
It's her phone, the jarring, blaring sound of an alarm going off, and Jimin's stomach sinks with it.
It's 3:45 pm on day 5 of their trip, December 26th.
It's almost time to leave.
Minjeong releases a heavy sigh. Jimin silences the alarm with trembling fingers. Her mom's easy smile is replaced with a frown.
"Do you two need to start packing?" Jimin's mom asks, turning to face the pair fully.
Minjeong nods mutely, lacking any of her comforting brightness, because, really, she doesn't want to go, either.
"Yeah," Jimin says, or tries to, because her voice cracks on the last syllable, eyes already beginning to well.
Her mom crosses the threshold in record time; mother's instinct providing almost superspeed when one of her children cries. Her arms are around Jimin in an instant, pulling her youngest close to her chest and holding her there.
The waterworks begin before her mom can get a word in.
As the sky falls from her eyes, salty and warm as it blooms like flowers across her cheeks, Jimin reciprocates the hug. Fiercely, in all honesty, a far cry from the first hug they shared on Jimin's first day back—she crushes her mom, the woman who may not have done her best to raise her, but is doing the best to be there for her now.
"Don't cry, darling." A soft coo flows effortlessly, like there hasn't been two decades of distance between them.
"I'm not trying to!" Comes the snot-filled whine.
They stand there for what feels like hours, and maybe that's what happens when something you've wanted for lifetimes is finally yours. It's comforting in its absoluteness; her mom's love that radiates so kindly when she cups Jimin's cheek, still refusing to let go, rubbing soothing circles wherever she can.
"You are welcome here whenever, Jimin, okay? Do you know that?"
She does know it; she believes it, too. Jimin can almost hear the sound of her mom's heart breaking open in her chest. She nods feverishly, burying her head deeper in her mom's chest. "I really don't want to go," she whispers, almost lost to the tear-soaked fabric.
"You have to, honey, and that's okay, because you can always come back—both of you," her mom replies, and it's only then that Jimin realises Minjeong is still in the room. She lifts her head to find her, always will, and is not at all surprised to see Minjeong standing a few feet away. There are stains across her cheeks, too, but there's a soft smile that eclipses them all.
Minjeong, who had told her her parents were lovely. Minjeong, who made sure that Jimin would have the best Christmas of her life. Minjeong, who had just stood like a total idiot, crying in her girlfriend's kitchen, just so she could have that moment with her mom.
Jimin waves her over, and Minjeong practically bounds towards them, tackling both Jimin and her mom so hard they all wobble.
There's a soft knock on the kitchen door, and there Jimin's dad stands, two suitcases surrounding him like a really poor entourage. "I think I got everything," he says.
That's all it takes for Jimin to start sobbing again.
⋆.˚
By the time they're descending the driveway, it is exactly 45 minutes after Jimin would've liked to have left. She's not all that upset by it, truthfully, and really, she wishes they had more time. It had taken so long because, following swiftly behind their father, Joohyun had come into the kitchen with Seulgi trailing, and then it became an extended family affair.
Apparently, everyone had missed Jimin.
45 minutes of crying, hugging, and wiping snot on her new sweater, Jimin finally has her car keys in hand, the wind biting as she walks. There's a moment as she walks when she looks back, because she knows she'll regret it if she doesn't, sending her parents one last smile and wave.
They're watching her go, most likely trying to hold in their own tears until after she's left. Jimin caught her dad blinking away 'dust'—she's not that stupid. The car door handle is cold to the touch, and the blood that runs through Jimin feels even colder.
She really, really doesn't want to go as she slides into the seat.
The click of her seatbelt is the clock striking twelve—time is well and truly up. "Do you think my dad missed anything?" Jimin asks Minjeong. Her voice is hoarse and broken, as if a forgotten sweater can grant the extra few minutes she so desperately craves.
Minjeong's expression, previously smiling and laughing, directed toward the family, softens, reaching to clasp Jimin's hand, which lay dormant over the console. "No, I checked." A squeeze to that same hand. "But, if we did, we can come get it in a few months at Easter, right?"
Easter-it's not that far away, and they can spend more than just five meagre days here. It placates Jimin's quivering lips for now, just as the hand encasing her own does. "Yeah," Jimin nods, biting back a sob. "We can."
Minjeong nods. "I already talked to your mom, it's gonna be really fun, I was thinking of travelling just before your birthday so you get to spend it here, and—"
She can't finish her sentence, eyes widening, because Jimin is crying, again.
⋆.˚
The key is finally placed in the ignition; it only took an extra ten minutes of mopping up tears and kissing the droplets off Jimin's skin.
"Wait!" Minjeong shrieks just as Jimin sets the car into reverse. "I need to plug in my phone! We need music, Jimin!"
Jimin sighs and waits, hand lingering on the gear stick. "You couldn't have done that any sooner?"
Minjeong doesn't reply, fiddling with her phone to try and open the Spotify app, eyes frantically searching for something. It doesn't matter, though, because as soon as Jimin's old, shitty car registers that something is connected to the aux cord, the last song they were listening to blares out of the busted stereo at full volume.
It's Christmas music, of course. Jimin doesn't even recognise it, but those stupid bells are unmistakable. "No Christmas songs! Please!" Jimin begs, her hands flying upwards to cover her ears.
Minjeong, naturally, screams too. "I'm trying! It won't play the song I selected!"
⋆.˚
Finally, they set off. Jimin's hands are more relaxed as they rest on the steering wheel, drumming along to the rhythm that fills the car along with Minjeong's melodic hums.
Her knuckles aren't white, and her veins aren't popping out as if she's ready to faint at any moment. Jimin's heart clenches in her chest as they pull out of the driveway, away from her family, but both they and Minjeong had offered her comfort she hadn't expected she would need.
She'll come back, both with Minjeong and maybe without if she's busy. She'll see them all soon. She'll be a part of the family again, or maybe, for the first time, in this new family, one that feels much more like it.
"I told you it would be fine, didn't I?" Minjeong says, over the music, with a wry smile on her face that Jimin can see her out of the corner of her eye.
Jimin rolls her eyes as best as she can while actively driving. "Yeah, you were right."
Minjeong makes a pleased sound while Jimin looks a little closer at the familiar streets as she drives by them. It's the same, but with marked differences: it's cold outside, but warm inside, with something deeper than heat. One of her neighbours seems to have planted a few new trees in their front yard, and they've already taken root. Light filters through the windows of all the houses that don't have their curtains drawn, and Jimin can spot the people inside briefly.
Smiling. Laughing. Happy.
"Maybe that guy in Love, Actually had a point," Jimin mumbles, and Minjeong catches it, perking up in delight.
A gasp slips past her lips. "Do you think we can watch it when we get back tonight?!"
Jimin is tired, overwhelmed, and entirely done with Christmas. She looks at Minjeong, her best friend in the entire world and now her girlfriend, the woman who's probably, in all seriousness, just turned her world upside down for the better. Minjeong's puppy eyes meet her own, full of pleading she's itching to voice, pretty pink lips drawn into that same pout she's seen many times before.
It works, it always works. "Yeah," Jimin says, a smile blooming on her face. "We can."
She's already watched it a million times, and she'd do it a million more for Minjeong.
Again, and again.
⋆.˚