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Chaeyoung could tell Mina wasn’t asleep.
Her breathing was too shallow, too careful. Her body, long and warm in Chaeyoung’s arms, wasn’t doing that soft, unconscious melt it always did when she drifted off. It was late — past one — and the apartment had gone still hours ago.
Chaeyoung pressed her face a little closer between Mina’s shoulder blades. “You okay?” she murmured, voice fuzzy, half-asleep.
Mina didn’t answer at first. That wasn’t unusual. But Chaeyoung could feel the slight hitch in her chest, like she’d started to inhale to speak and hadn’t decided yet whether she’d follow through.
So Chaeyoung waited. She was good at waiting, with Mina.
She’d waited the whole summer after high school to see her again after they first met at the JYPU prospective student-athlete visit. She’d known the second she laid eyes on Mina (and confirmed it within seconds of speaking to her) that there would be no one else for her. That this girl was it. Maybe love at first sight had been a silly thing for a seventeen year old to believe in so staunchly. Or maybe, when you know, you know.
She’d waited until midway through their first semester for that first chance to play together, Coach Jessi finally pairing them up as defense partners. Their on-ice chemistry was a slow but sure build. Mina’s defensive positioning was as sound as her skating was elegant, and soon enough Chaeyoung learned exactly when to unleash her own offensive instincts to help the forwards up front, and when to rein those instincts in to fall back and support Mina on the defensive end. Playing with her was smooth and simple in a way that required less and less conscious thought as time went on. By now, in their third season, playing together came as naturally as breathing air.
She’d waited that whole first semester for Mina to navigate their off-ice chemistry at her own pace, never pushing, never asking, never even trying to move in a romantic direction in any explicit way. There wasn’t any need. Why push for a result when the result was inevitable? When Mina finally kissed her at the airport, just before they went home for winter break, Chaeyoung hadn’t been surprised. She’d been ready for forever since the day they met.
In the end, patience with Mina always bore fruit.
“I miss Jihyo,” Mina whispered.
It was so quiet Chaeyoung almost missed it — barely more than a breath, spoken into the hush of the room.
She should’ve known. It had been a few games now since Jihyo went down with that brutal knee injury — a cheap shot from Seulgi in overtime, right as the captain had been entering the offensive zone — and nothing had felt right since. The team hadn’t won a game. No one said it out loud, but the weight of it pressed down on everyone.
And Mina…well, Mina didn’t talk much to begin with. She’d always been close with Jihyo, in her quiet way, since they were paired together as road-trip roommates in freshman year. For Jihyo, Mina was probably a nice change of pace — quiet, calm, sweet — from Nayeon and Jeongyeon’s particular breed of chaos. For Mina, befriending someone so steady, so kind, who never forced her to talk more than she wanted to — it was instrumental in those early days for her to feel part of the team. They’d stayed close ever since.
Chaeyoung should’ve known Jihyo’s injury — and especially her absence from campus while she was at home recovering from surgery — was hitting Mina harder than she let on. Losing someone you were close to was hard no matter what. But when you only let a few people in? It left a bigger hole.
She slid her arm more securely around Mina’s waist and tucked her face into the warm curve of her neck. She breathed in slowly, nuzzling gently.
“You wanna talk about it?” she murmured.
For a few seconds, she didn’t think Mina would answer. Then she shifted in Chaeyoung’s arms, turning over so they were face to face. Her dark eyes blinked slowly, catching the faint glow of the streetlight through the curtains.
“Maybe,” she whispered.
Chaeyoung waited.
“It’s just lonelier,” Mina said after a moment. “Without Jihyo.”
She paused, lips pressing together before she added, “And the vibe around the d-core has been weird.”
Chaeyoung nodded. Yeah. That tracked.
Jeongyeon was trying her best as the leader of the defense, but she and Jihyo were tight — like live-together, finish-each-other’s-sentences tight. And with Jihyo gone, Nayeon had been spiraling. Jeongyeon was busy trying to hold her together too, and Chaeyoung could tell it was stretching her thin. The rookie defensemen looked totally lost half the time, floating without direction. Chaeryeong was starting to step up, giving feedback, calling things out in practice — but it wasn’t the same.
She and Mina…well. They were still doing their jobs. Still locking things down defensively when they were on the ice. But the team just kept losing. The locker room felt heavier with every game. It was getting hard to ignore.
Jihyo would’ve cut the tension with a joke, or would’ve pulled the group together with one of those inspiring speeches she always seemed to improvise with ease. Without her, everything just sat, thick and unsettled. Everyone missed her.
“It’s okay to be upset, you know,” Chaeyoung murmured. Her thumb brushed softly over Mina’s side. “It’s okay to miss her.”
Mina didn’t say anything, but she didn’t look away either. Chaeyoung could feel the tension still coiled in her shoulders, still sitting under her skin.
“She’ll be back soon enough,” Chaeyoung said. “And Yeji’s been doing a great job with the captaincy. She’s figuring it out. We all are. It might just take some time.”
Mina gave her the tiniest nod, eyes heavy but still open, still listening.
Chaeyoung leaned in a little closer, her voice soft. “How can I improve your mood tonight, huh?” she whispered. “What can I do?”
Mina gave a noncommittal shrug, a corner of her mouth twitching like she didn’t know either.
Chaeyoung hummed thoughtfully. “Well, if you won’t tell me…”
She shifted, and then her fingers found the spot just under Mina’s ribs — a place she’d discovered by accident last semester. She poked it lightly.
“Does this help your mood?”
Mina squeaked — actually squeaked — and tried to twist away.
“Chaengie!” She laughed as she swatted at Chaeyoung’s hand. “We’ll wake up Dahyun and Tzuyu!”
“Is that a yes?” Chaeyoung grinned, already going in for another poke. “Are you cheered up yet? Huh? What about now?”
Mina giggled, eyes crinkling, arms flailing as she tried to escape the tickle assault. But it was the kind of laughing where her body relaxed all over, like something had finally let go inside her.
Eventually Chaeyoung let up and flopped beside her again, breath warm between them. They were face to face, noses almost brushing, Mina’s beautiful, dark hair falling in lazy arcs across the pillow.
Mina looked at her, eyes soft now — but there was something else there too. Something darker, heavier. A gleam that hadn’t been there a minute ago.
Chaeyoung caught it, felt it like a spark in her chest.
“Oh,” she said, voice low, a little breathless. “Is that what would help your mood?”
Mina didn’t answer. Just looked at her, steady and quiet, gaze burning in the dark.
“Okay,” Chaeyoung murmured.
She leaned in, slow and smiling, but Mina met her halfway — and then some. One graceful arm slid around her, snaking up beneath the hem of her shirt, fingers warm and soft as they skimmed along her back.
Chaeyoung gasped into the kiss, caught off guard for half a second. Even now, it still sometimes surprised her, the way Mina could shift gears like this. So quiet in the world, her little wallflower — but here, with her, so sure. So deliberate.
Mina kissed her again, slower this time, deeper, hand still moving in lazy, grounding strokes against her skin.
And just like that, all was forgotten. The losing streak, Jihyo’s injury, the sour air of the locker room. The world narrowed to the two of them, as it always did eventually.
They kissed like they had all the time in the world.
No urgency, no rush — just the warmth of being close, the comfort of lips meeting over and over again in slow, steady rhythm. Chaeyoung melted into it, letting Mina set the pace, more than happy to follow her lead. Her hand stayed under Chaeyoung’s shirt, tracing aimless lines across her back, pleasant and soft.
At some point, they paused for breath. Their foreheads rested together, eyes open now, sharing quiet looks in the dim light.
There was always something that felt so special about being perceived by Mina — that loving gaze, those dark eyes darkening further, always taking her time. Chaeyoung’s hand itched with the urge to grab her pencil and sketchbook off the nightstand. But she didn’t move; now wasn’t the time. She’d have to draw Mina in the morning, when the lighting was a bit better.
Mina’s free hand reached up, fingers carding through the strands of Chaeyoung’s hair.
“I really like your haircut,” she whispered.
Chaeyoung blinked, then huffed a soft laugh. “It’s been like this since August.”
Mina just shrugged, smiling in that small, private way of hers. “Still like it.”
It was the shortest Chaeyoung’s hair had ever gone: a cute little boyband middle part just before the school year started. Mina had liked it from the start, had said she looked so handsome. Chaeyoung knew Mina found her attractive — they’d been together for so long, after all — but it still made her preen to hear it all the same.
Those long fingers carded through Chaeyoung’s hair again, this time slower, and Chaeyoung leaned into the touch with a little hum of contentment. Then Mina kissed her again, unhurried and sure, and when their lips broke apart, she murmured it against Chaeyoung’s mouth:
“I love you.”
Chaeyoung smiled into the kiss. Her heart swelled.
“Love you too, Minari.”
The next kiss came deeper, slower. More certain. And Chaeyoung felt it — the shift. The air around them tightening, heating. Mina’s hand slid from her back to the front of her shirt, fingers splayed as they climbed upward in a steady, unhurried path across bare skin.
Then, without a word, Mina rolled them over.
Chaeyoung went willingly, breath catching as the mattress gave beneath her and Mina settled above — soft, graceful, steady. They had always danced in the bedroom like they danced on the ice: Mina leading with a quiet sureness, and Chaeyoung moving in accordance with the precedent she set.
Mina’s weight pressed her gently into the bed, and Chaeyoung let her hands fall to the girl’s hips, grounding herself. One of Mina’s legs slipped between hers, and a hand slid low, curling around the outside of Chaeyoung’s thigh, just under the hem of her sleep shorts — a bold, claiming touch.
Chaeyoung’s breath hitched.
She looked up at Mina, wide-eyed and wanting, and Mina just looked back — calm, focused, a flush blooming across her cheekbones. That quiet confidence radiated off her in waves.
Chaeyoung loved Mina always, but this was one of the ways she loved her most: sure, deliberate, and very much in control.
A small sigh slipped from her lips as Mina’s hand finished its ascent up to her chest and played upon the mountain peak. She kissed Chaeyoung, carefully but firmly, and hummed against her lips before leaving them to mark a trail up and down her neck. It was a satisfied little sound that left Chaeyoung half wishing the girl would move at a faster pace and take, half wishing she would spend the rest of eternity disassembling her atom by atom and then piecing her back together.
Once again, patience with Mina always bore fruit.
She wove her way down Chaeyoung’s body like ivy over a long abandoned building, and when those delicate fingers found her budding desire, spring, at last, was sprung. Chaeyoung was in full bloom, hands in the hair of her gardener, mouth on her elegant neck. She couldn’t help but bite down in prayer, in thanks, in something, when Mina’s gentle touch found its way through her petals to the heat of her core.
And then, quickly, her touch became less gentle, less breezy, less sunshine and morning drizzle. Mina was a thunderstorm after a long drought, water pounding the ground with such a strong, steady force that it was hard to track the difference between earth and rain in those muddied waters.
Maybe this was the earth’s true state, Chaeyoung thought idly as Mina’s teeth found her neck. It was meant to be muddy. To say that the earth was dry was merely to say that it was waiting, waiting, waiting for the storm. Apart from the rain, the earth was simply patience in the face of the inevitable.
It wasn’t long before Chaeyoung reached her peak, patience rewarded. It rarely took long with Mina, in her experience. Quiet as she was, Chaeyoung knew there was a certain pride the girl took in that fact. Even now she wore that familiar smirk, the smile no one else got to see.
Chaeyoung grinned. “You’re always sexy when you smile like that.” She hadn’t meant to say it quite so breathily, but she was still recovering. In any case, it had the intended effect.
Mina’s ears twitched as the blush spread across her face. It was hard to see that delicate pink in the dim light, but Chaeyoung could feel the skin of her cheek heating up as she stroked it idly with her thumb. She half expected Mina to bury her face in her neck — her favorite hiding place — but was just as happy to see the girl stand her ground, smirk widening.
She pouted when Mina grabbed the hand on her cheek and moved it away, then raised an eyebrow when she placed it gently, but firmly, on the mattress above Chaeyoung’s head. Mina dropped her gaze, dragging her eyes across Chaeyoung’s body, sleep shirt disheveled and half riding up, exposing the skin of her stomach.
“Mine.”
A hushed whisper, but Chaeyoung felt it shoot through her like a bolt of lightning. It wasn’t a secret between them, at this point, that Mina was at times a bit possessive (at least in private). It was even less of a secret that Chaeyoung liked it — liked the way Mina would look through her, eyes dark and intense, liked the way her hands would grip hard no matter what part of her she was touching, liked the way her quiet girl became a little less quiet, whispering the filthiest words she had at her disposal right into Chaeyoung’s ear.
But even like this, she knew Mina would move slowly. Carefully. Methodically.
In some ways it was a shame. How good would it feel to have Mina’s hands on her again already? How good would it feel to have her mouth on her skin? Those long fingers right back where Chaeyoung needed her most?
But she would wait. Now, and again, and again and again. Patience with Mina always bore fruit, perfectly ripe, sweet and serene. Tonight was no different.
“Chaengie?”
Oh, of course. Mina was always patient too.
“Yours, Minari. Always.”