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Megan’s first hoodie arrived folded. That was how Yoonchae knew it was intentional.
Nothing the older girl owned had ever been folded. Keyword: ever. She lived one floor above her in a state of cheerful disorder—mugs forgotten on windowsills, mismatched socks, and a bunch of unfinished projects, which she started with much enthusiasm before abandoning them for something shinier.
And yet there it was.
A green hoodie—viridian, to be exact—lay neatly over the arm of her couch like an offering.
She stared at it for a long moment with her keys still in hand. Then she picked it up and went upstairs.
The door opened before she knocked twice.
“You came to see me!” Yoonchae was met with a blinding smile from Megan—who, bless her soul, acted as if she had no idea what brought the younger girl to her place.
Yoonchae held up the hoodie. “I came to return this. You left it in my room.”
The older girl glanced down at it, then back up. “Did I?”
“Yes.”
“It looked better in your room, so it’ll look better on you,” she said with a convincing nod.
“You haven’t seen me wear it.”
“Exactly why you should wear it and confirm that I’m right. I know things.”
“Damn right, princess. Now, take your hoodie.”
Megan’s smile widened immediately. Behind her, Lara in the kitchen choked on plain water.
“Oh,” the older girl said softly, her eyes turning mischievous. “Princess now?”
“It was insulting.”
“Really?” Megan’s smile was bordering on teasing at this point. “That didn’t feel insulting, babe.”
Yoonchae felt blood rush to her face, breath stuttering. “It should have.” She shoved the hoodie into her hands. The older girl took it for all of two seconds before casually draping it back over her forearm.
“Come in. Lara made that curry you were dying over.”
“I’m not staying.”
“You are, if you’re hungry. Besides, Manon is here too.”
“I’m not hungry.”
Her stomach betrayed her at once, and Megan’s smile turned smug instantly.
“Thought so.” She reached out to fix Yoonchae’s necklace gently before stepping aside. “Shoes off, sweetheart.”
Yoonchae hated that five minutes later, she was at the counter, eating her new favorite curry with rice while the hoodie hung over the chair beside her, as if it had won.
The second piece of clothing appeared two days later. Pants this time, left on the handle of her bedroom door.
The third was white, with cherries embroidered on the center of the top, folded carefully beside her gaming console.
The fourth was a hoodie again, cream-colored and incredibly soft. Yoonchae felt the fabric on her fingers and brought it up to her face—stopping right before she could bury her face in it completely.
Wait, this smells like Megan.
Her eyes widened in horror. “What the actual fuck am I doing?”
“You need to stop this,” Yoonchae said one evening, arms full of stolen fabric as she entered the older girl’s apartment without knocking.
Megan looked up from the couch. “You brought them back?”
“Yes.”
“How thoughtful.”
Megan watched Yoonchae set the pile down, then tugged at the sleeve of the sweatshirt she had been wearing. A maroon sweatshirt. Yoonchae’s maroon sweatshirt, the one she’d been looking for for days.
Nope. Absolutely not. This is a problem.
“What are you wearing?”
The older girl raised her eyebrows in mock surprise. “A sweatshirt?”
“That’s mine.”
“I borrowed it, asked Sophia before she went out with Dani, and she said it was okay since you wear mine too.”
“You broke into my apartment?”
“I have a key.”
“You are deeply unwell.”
The older girl beamed. “I think it’s called liking you.”
From the kitchen, someone slammed the door of the fridge, laughing. Yoonchae went hot immediately.
“Take it off.”
“No.”
“It’s mine.”
The older girl stood up, crossed the room, and stopped directly in front of her. Yoonchae could smell Megan’s favorite lotion, the comforting scent of lilac and something inherently Megan.
“It came back smelling like you every time,” she said lightly. “Thought I’d return the favor.”
She had no response prepared for that and lost her composure the moment she’d regained it. The older girl reached up to pat her cheek once.
“Sit down, baby. You look overwhelmed.”
“I am going to end you.”
“After dinner.”
And somehow, against her better judgment, she sat down.
After that, the clothing war became mutual. Yoonchae was still very much against it. Trust.
Megan would leave one behind on purpose, all innocent, and by the evening, something of hers would vanish.
Daniela spoke up from where she was curled up against Sophia on the couch. “You’re wearing Megan’s shirt again.”
Yoonchae fumbled with her—Megan’s—sleeves. “She keeps taking my clothes and leaving hers.”
“You do know that you can just tell her, like for real, and she will stop, right?”
Yoonchae mumbled something unintelligible. Sophia urged her to repeat herself and was met with a small voice: “I can’t just say that to her, it makes her happy… and she looks good in my clothes.”
“…”
“…”
“Oh, Yoonchip.”
Yoonchae found Megan in the practice room, scrolling through her phone on the couch, wearing her pullover. Her throat went dry when she realized that it was the blue pullover she had been wearing hours ago.
“I wore that one in the morning.”
“Now it’s on my body, so it’s mine.”
“You’re so annoying.”
“It’s warm,” the older girl said, burrowing deeper into the fabric. “And you wore this earlier today, so it smells more like you.”
Three people in the room screamed into cushions.
She crossed her arms. “Give it back.”
“No.”
“It’s stretched now.”
“Then I’ll keep it.”
“That was not the point.”
Megan peeked over the collar, eyes gleaming. “Come and take it off for me, baby.”
She turned around and walked straight back out.
While Megan made it her mission to call Yoonchae with every single endearment out there, Yoonchae stuck to her sarcastic responses that came with ‘Princess’.
“Princess, could you hurry up, please?”
“Princess, your plant is dying.”
“Move, princess.”
Megan responded to every single one like she’d been handed flowers.
One afternoon, in front of nearly everyone, the older girl leaned over the back of her chair.
“You’re too serious.”
“I’m trying to learn this choreo.”
“You’ve been frowning at the same part for two minutes.”
“Maybe because you’re talking.”
The older girl bent lower, chin nearly on her shoulder.
“You’re hot when serious.”
Yoonchae bit her inner cheeks. “Princess, let me focus.”
She pretended not to have heard the gasps around the room for her own sake. The older girl only sighed dreamily. “Again.”
“You are insufferable.”
“And adored.”
Yoonchae elbowed her hard enough to make her yelp.
Peaceful Saturdays were never peaceful; they always found something to stir up. And this particular Saturday, Megan was standing on a chair trying to reach a box at the back of the topmost cabinet despite clear safety concerns.
“Meg, careful,” Manon said.
“I am being careful.”
“You’re wobbling.”
“Wobbling is gnarly.”
Yoonchae, who was chilling with Lara at their place, looked up from the couch.
The chair tilted dangerously. Without thinking, she stood up, moved halfway, and snapped. “Babe, get down before you break your neck.”
Silence.
Complete, devastating silence.
The older girl froze. One hand on the handle of the cabinet, the other clutching a plastic package. Everyone in the room slowly turned. Yoonchae realized what she’d said exactly one second too late, which was one second too many.
Megan got down carefully. Very carefully. Then, she turned to face her. Her face was blank, as if her brain had briefly left her body. Then came the change: slow, bright, absolutely unbearable, shit-eating grin.
“Well,” she said softly. “That was interesting.”
The younger girl grimaced. “Slip of the tongue.”
“Mhm.”
“Say one thing, and I’ll strangle you.”
The grin widened shamelessly. Megan crossed the room in easy steps and stopped right in front of her. She did not tease or crowd her. Instead, she simply reached down, took the sleeve of the hoodie Yoonchae was wearing, and tugged it gently.
“Thanks for worrying about me, babe.”
The room erupted. She sat back down immediately, covering her face with both hands.
“I hate everyone here.”
“I know,” Megan said, delighted. Then quieter, only for her: “Keep saying it.”
If Megan looked weirdly pleased for the rest of the week, nobody questioned it.