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Their first year was characterized by hidden competitions, tender wounds and soft whispers in the night.
After all, in such an environment - all the girls sizing each other up, knowing that they were fighting for that limited spot - competition was rampant.
Jimin was so beautiful.
Minjeong could only stare at her - perfectly poised, height just right and eyes a determined obsidian. Her heart thumped, though at that time, young as she was, believed it to be envy and dread.
So they engaged in the one-upmanship of who could perform better - singing, dancing, modelling, speaking. Every little thing was a competition and Minjeong so desperately wanted to win.
Jimin was so beautiful.
And she asked this of her one day, “Hold my hand.” Or maybe it was a question but Minjeong had always thought Jimin a rival so everything that spilled out from her lips was perhaps, perceived in her mind’s eye, as aggression.
She held her hand, nevertheless, and she watched as girl after girl went up to the stage and performed their song, thought too (though reprimanding herself later) that she could be better. And thought that Jimin’s hand was so warm and so nice to hold on to - a comfort, if anything.
She pushed that particular thought down, and focused only on her own performance.
But she can now admit - she had also hoped that Jimin would astound their teachers, would stay, would be by her side.
Minjeong trained till she burnt out one day. It was late April - Spring had arrived.
She remembered vividly how exhausted and stressed out she was - what with the commuting, the training, the schoolwork.
And so she had a strange passing thought: maybe if I could sleep forever, everything would eventually turn to dust and I would be able to look from above and realize just how mundane everything was and I would then laugh to myself because I would know that nothing really hurts, that everything had just been plain ridiculous.
She had literally passed out in the studio.
And because it was late, and she, a fool who had wanted to be better, who had wanted (needed) to succeed, kept pushing on and on and on. And so, when she slipped and fell and then stayed on the ground till she thought of nothing at all, there was hardly anyone who could come to her aid.
It was really dark.
Until she felt warm fingertips combing her hair, tasted water on her lips and saw what she thought then to be an angel from the heavens. God, she was so tired; this was just the respite she needed.
It was golden.
“You’re okay.” Minjeong heard her voice first - Yoo Jimin. The prettiest, softest, smoothest voice. “Do you want some bread? Water? Rest?” She said it so slowly, asked so warmly and so lightly that Minjeong thought that Jimin had experienced it all.
She could only nod her head, feeling all at once safe and protected and free from chains.
Minjeong ate and drank and rested and by her side, Jimin stayed, eyes on her phone, eyes on her, eyes on the mirror. Her legs pressed against hers, was a contrast to the cold seeping from the ground to her skin. And she, a little out of it, moved to the warmth, to Jimin.
Jimin only smiled, held her close and they stayed like this. Friendship blossomed that spring.
It was a friendship borne out of convenience, Minjeong realized. Jimin hung out with the others, hardly ever talked to her and when she did, it all pertained to the damn company, their job. She wanted to scream, and she wanted to confront her because she was never very good at this whole game of subtlety.
But she didn’t. She looked from a distance, glaring sometimes, perhaps watching wistfully other times.
Minjeong who’s eyes seemed to have a mind of its own moved to Jimin’s figure - her moves were so clean and so fluid and so beautiful.
Then, she fell - a wound on her knees, her thin tights torn at the seams. No one stopped, they continued on as it was in fact a daily occurrence (and Minjeong would not have cared either, if it were anyone else) and she felt indignation rise from her chest.
She stopped and she moved to her fallen figure, her hands touching hers - a sign of help. Jimin smiled softly, muttered “thank you” and grabbed her hands, pulling herself up with grit and determination.
“Let me help you.” Minjeong said to her, though she had half a mind to leave her sitting by the side on her own - Minjeong was never very good at hiding her feelings and she was feeling especially distraught over Jimin’s lack of reaching out; she had thought they were friends.
”Thank you… I owe you.” Jimin held her hand, rubbed her thumb across her palm and lifted her gaze from her wound to Minjeong’s eyes. Her face was so close.
”It is nothing. You helped me before.” Sitting at a distance, she watched as Jimin’s lips turned up to a tentative smile.
“See you after vocal lessons?” She asked and then Minjeong’s heart did a strange du-dum du-dum. She could only nod her head.
Their second year was characterised by childish banter, accidental touches and longing gazes.
Minjeong was playful - she enjoyed pranks, and harmless teasing - when it came to her friends. With Jimin, it felt a little like flirting but Minjeong knew Jimin and she knew that Jimin was way worse than her in her enjoyment for the jokes and laughter - maybe she was also a charmer. Minjeong played along, laughing sometimes, feeling like she might need to take a step back sometimes (who could be accountable for what she did next?) and taking deep breaths other times.
Jimin was so beautiful.
"You're childish." Minjeong said, shifting her eyes to the mirror in the practice room, pretending that she was irritated by Jimin's teasing and touching and really endearing noises. She whined, laughing slightly when Minjeong's face scrunched up, "You're so whiny..." She said without much force at all.
She could only feel a light tug at the corners of her heart, at her lips, willing her to smile too. Perhaps it showed on her face - Jimin had splayed her hand on her middle, a slight rustle could be heard and then, quite suddenly, her chin was on her shoulder.
Reflected on the mirror, Minjeong looked at them, and she thought of how right this was.
Jimin, eyes closed, a hint of a smile on her lips, her hand - possessively - around her waist. Minjeong felt like she couldn't breathe. She imagined what her life would be like in the company halls without Jimin there by her side, always bright and reassuring and protective, and she felt her heart constrict.
Her chest filled with water, drowning her and so, unknowingly, she took a shuddering breath.
And continued to look.
Her movement had caused Jimin to stare too though not through the mirror.
She had turned her head, had perhaps a question on the tip of her tongue. But Jimin remained quiet. She remained looking at her while Minjeong looked through the mirror, looking at them.
Because they were sat on the floor, Jimin could easily moved closer, could then nuzzle her hair, mouth precariously close to her neck.
Hot breaths, honey and mint, soft fingertips.
"It's scary." Jimin mumbled against her neck a little later. And while she talked, Minjeong felt Jimin’s lips on her neck.
At that moment, she felt like this was going to be the day she told her how much she loved her.
She only breathed - that was all she could do.
"What is?" She asked a moment later, when she was sure her voice would be stable.
There was silence for a while. Minjeong could imagine her thoughts running like a bullet train in her mind; she could feel it.
There was something transparent about her, like her thoughts were tangible - white glows of film cuts - and she could grab it with her own two hands.
She waited.
The room was void of color - a stark white but now, blanketed in darkness. The cold air would have caused goosebumps to rise from her skin but Jimin was so warm.
"The uncertainty of this." Jimin once again muttered, her lips once again brushing against the crevice between her neck and shoulder.
Everything she said was so vague and Minjeong didn't want to assume so she remained quiet, until Jimin lifted her head, her piercing gaze on hers.
They were so close.
And it would be easy, to hold her face in her palms, to drag a fingertip along her jaw, to cup her nape while she pulled her close. It would be easy - after all, they were just actions.
But this was Jimin, eyes a little dazed now, hands gripping tighter now. This was Jimin who made her heart flutter irrationally, who made her smile brighter. Who made her want to say I love you.
If feelings were involved, nothing was easy.
"You can't leave, okay?" Jimin whispered. Her forehead was against hers now. Minjeong wanted to run, she wanted to be a cloud.
"I will try." For you, anything. She wanted to say.
That year, Minjeong held her hand, and Jimin kissed her cheek.
Everything was so, so dangerous.
Their third year was filled with arguments and misunderstandings. And, soft grins of togetherness.
It was plain to see - what Minjeong was to Jimin, what Jimin was to Minjeong. They were inseparable.
Everyone had their somebody in the company. But Minjeong was so tired because she loved her and wanted her and didn't wish to see her with anybody else.
She had thought that Jimin was happy with her - that was all. (and she was selfish and young and in love.)
"Who is that?" Minjeong pulled her to the side, placed her hands on her arm - a little too possessively, she now thinks.
"A friend from school."
Minjeong tried not to fathom Jimin having a life outside of being a trainee though she knew, of course, that Jimin was going to be around others too, was going to have friends too.
In her mind, she thought that if she hadn't had to see, she wouldn't have to believe.
"Okay." She said curtly, knowing that she was being entirely ridiculous. Jimin had only hugged her friend, had only smiled at her friend brightly, had only held her friend’s hand. That was all.
Jimin did all these to her too.
She moved away, tried not to let the irrational part of her brain take over her actions. But Jimin stopped her, grabbed her wrist and pulled her back, a frown on her face.
"What is it?"
"Nothing."
"You're being stubborn... again." Jimin sighed, then closed her eyes in annoyance, perhaps restraining herself too.
"I'm not."
"Yes you are. And then you'll ignore me again, probably stop talking to me for another week and then pretend that everything is fine after." Jimin never flared up in front of her before, never had her eyes fixed on hers with such burning intensity before, never had her words spit out from her lips with such vitriol before.
Minjeong stared wide-eyed at her flushed neck, at the anger just simmering underneath. "I won't." She replied softly, hesitantly.
"You will. You always do that."
Minjeong was angry now too.
"You don't get to just say that, you don't know me, you don't know anything." And then, she walked away, feeling like a chasm had been created and it would take something magical to close it.
It was, as predicted, the next week that Minjeong started talking to her again. Jimin was still angry, she realized.
"I'm sorry. I was just childish." Minjeong tried to say. But Jimin brushed her off, a shimmer in her eyes.
"Jimin, wait up. Hey." Minjeong stopped in front of her... and was surprised to see tears streaming down her beautiful face. To know that she was the cause of it was the worst.
"Just don't." She mumbled, voice tremulous. But Minjeong had to make things clear, had to make things right.
In the back alley, everything was dark and cold and empty.
Jimin was so beautiful.
"Walk with me?" Minjeong dared to ask. "Just like before? Please. I won't say anything if you don't want me to. But let's walk together. It's dark out."
Jimin merely nodded her head, closing in on herself as they walked the concrete pavement, as the lamps shone on their hunched figures.
"Do I not know you?" Jimin asked a little later, as soft as the wind her voice was. Minjeong only heard her because she was deliberately paying attention, because she was absolutely attuned to any movement of hers.
Otherwise, Minjeong would have been deaf to her question.
"You know me the most." She said, heart burning.
Then snowflakes fell, making her coat wet. It was magical.
Her heart cooled. She had only a strange feeling of perhaps, maybes and ifs.
"Not everything?" Her eyes bored into hers, a questioning look, a pained look.
"No." Minjeong said simply.
"What is it that I don't know?"
Minjeong paused. Jimin followed, stopping too. Under the fir tree, she felt snowflakes on her skin, saw Jimin’s face illuminating due to the soft, orange glow of the lamps. She could only smile sadly.
"Perhaps it is better not to know."
A knowing look, an understanding look.
Minjeong froze, certain that her answer was clear enough. Jimin was smart, Jimin knew her.
"Okay. But tell me soon... I..." Then she paused, never continuing.
But everything seemed lighter now and they were once again close, and smiling.
Jimin held her gloved hand, swinging them up and down, up and down, up and down.
Always a constant, always warm, always her love.
The following month, everything was golden.
Minjeong had her first kiss with Jimin on a pavement they walked a thousand times. Her lips, once frozen, thawed under her equally cold lips.
Hot breaths, honey and mint.
Orange light, warm fingers. And soft whispers.
Their fourth year was pure, unbridled, happiness.
They loved, and loved and felt so much passion. It was like a wildfire, like the constant moon - their love.
Minjeong felt like she was going to pass out from all the joy, and the pleasure and the... It was innumerable, what emotions Jimin managed to wrest out of her.
"I love you so much. I don't think you'd understand." Jimin said one day. Their heads were close together in that practice room. Jimin was drawing strange circles and writing words with her fingertips. On her thighs, on her arms, on any bare skin.
All the other girls were huddled together too. So they - Jimin and Minjeong - weren't a strange sight but she felt like someone was going to find out soon. It was such a thrill.
Jimin was so beautiful.
Minjeong could never figure out just how much more Jimin could make her feel. Jimin was always in the middle of her mind.
With her, she could dance better now, could sing better now. She was more confident now. There was only strength when they were together.
For a brief moment, because of how happy she felt, Minjeong wondered what would happen if Jimin ever stopped loving her - and once again, it was an irrational thought to have - but she imagined. And she knew, all at once, that if Jimin ever stopped, just like that, Minjeong would crumble to dust, and it would take a lifetime for her to be truly reconstructed whole.
It was so dangerous, for someone, a mere human, to have her heart entire. But Minjeong had surrendered her heart to Yoo Jimin the very first time she whispered in that voice, when she had shown her care when she was at her lowest.
Oh, she was just like an angel from the heavens, who had gifted her with water and food and respite.
Jimin must know just how immensely grateful she was.
She was such a phenomenon force - Jimin made her want to be happy, to strive in earnest, for herself when all along, whatever she did was filled with fear for failure.
And Jimin made her realize that if she failed, it would have been fine. Because now, the company was not an arena filled with fighters and rivals.
Jimin was here and Jimin was always by her side, who made her feel that if she ever fell, she was not alone. Not anymore.
"You are the best." Minjeong rasped out.
Then Jimin grinned, tangling their fingers together. It was a union that made Minjeong want to scream, that made her wish for nothing more. Only for her to stay.
Jimin was always enough.
"I love you." Jimin said again, patting her head, then her shoulders, then brought them close. But never close enough - not in a crowded room.
Just a kiss on her cheek.
It was an action so innocent but her cheeks reddened, and she had only the urge to place their lips close.
"I love you." Minjeong replied, her voice soft, for she needed them to remain close like this. Needed there to be no disruption - only the both of them hidden in their own enclosure.
When their fight was over, when they were announced to the world, when the cameras flashed and Minjeong still had her hands on hers, she was happy.
And when time passed, when she remembered their youth - tentative and brave all at once - she could only smile.
Her thoughts of their past together were just like the flowers - blooming, wilting, and always beautiful no matter.
It was ethereal.
And Jimin, who stayed by her side - oh, she that was all Minjeong ever wanted.
"What are you thinking about?" Jimin asked, voice soft and cool, her hand holding her cheek so tenderly just like the first time they kissed.
"Our past. Our youth. I think I have always loved you. Even when we were competing."
Then Jimin laughed, kissed her lips, pulled back, and smiled.
"You're so beautiful."