If Yumi has ever focused on something so intensely, it has to be this.

Her eyebrows knit together in concentration as she drew with her pencil on the blank white wall. She had been at it for last hour, and hadn't even looked up for a break. Most of the wall, with the help of the other members of the art club, was already a vast black-and-white sea of drawings waiting to be painted over.

She couldn't wait to see what the final result looked like. In celebration of the school's anniversary, the art club had taken up the task of painting the mural that always went on one of the walls every year. It was something of an honor for them to do it, since the murals stayed up for the year, and it was usually done by hired professionals.

"Unnie, take a break already!" a first-year girl, one of the newest, most talented additions to the club, came up to her. "Your hand will go numb; how will you keep going then?"

"Just a minute!" Yumi called back. She was standing three feet or so off the ground on a ladder. It was dangerous, but two of the members were holding it steady down below. They were chatting away animatedly, just background noise to her when she was very focused. "Tell Jaemin that we need the other can by tomorrow morning if we want to get this over with as soon as possible."

"Okay," the girl said chirpily, darting off to find the said senior of hers. It was very, very obvious that the girl had a thing for Na Jaemin, the former president of the art club. It was a bit of a hopeless crush, though—besides the fact that he was a little over two and a half years older than her, Yumi knew for a fact that he had a crush on her, Han Yumi.

How did she know? Because the boy had asked her out multiple times—and he was absolutely relentless when it came to trying to get Han Yumi to date him. She had lost count of how many times they'd be working on some project together, and Jaemin, out of nowhere, would casually toss the question, "can I interest you in a date?" which ten out of ten times resulted in Yumi saying patiently, "no, sorry."

One had to wonder if Jaemin's ego was ever injured after multiple rejections from the girl he likes. She supposed it wasn't, if his multiple attempts were any indication. At any rate, he was still a good, reliable friend when he wasn't trying to get her to date him. It was he who had volunteered to buy the cans of paint they needed for the mural when it turned out that the club was low on funding.

One also had to wonder whether Yumi ever got tired of him constantly asking. Truthfully, she didn't. She half-hoped that Jaemin kept trying.

She had a good reason for it, though it sounded a little mean when you consider that he must really like her if he was so relentless. She resolved to do a little moral thinking at home, but she was still thinking about it as she climbed down, grabbed a can of paint, and carefully balanced it on the very top of the ladder.

She was the only one left, so she might as well as get a little more work done. Carefully, making sure not to upset the can, she clambered up two or three steps and stood there, the brush she'd grabbed off the folding table across the courtyard dipping in and out of the can as she started to paint the smaller, finer details.

"I've been standing here for the past five minutes, Yumi," a voice commented, making her realize just how long she'd been working, "and you didn't notice me?"

"Go away, Jaemin," she said, eyes narrowing in concentration as the brush glided across the wall, ignoring the little dance her heart did. "Unless you're here to help, that is."

"No one's going to help," Jaemin walked up to the ladder, standing a few feet behind her and peering up at her. She turned briefly to see that he wasn't smiling like he did when he was messing with her. "Seriously, you need to take a break. Sein told me you've been here since school let out. It's almost sunset, let's just go home."

Yumi looked down at him. He had that expression he always got when he was being deadly serious out of concern, and she had no willpower to go against him when he was giving her that look and crossing his arms. "Fine, fine," she sighed, beginning to climb down. "Let me just—"

In the next moment, she let out a scream as the ladder rocked under her weight, almost sending her plummeting to the ground. She somehow managed to throw all her weight against the wall, her hands splayed out on the surface.

In the act of trying to save herself, the ladder had rocked wildly, which sent the can of paint careening off the side of it—and in the process, had splashed almost half the lower section of the wall, before emptying out the rest onto the floor. Yumi stared at the mess she'd unintentionally made in horror.

"Are you okay?" Jaemin asked, taking her hand and making her step off the ladder. "It's okay, Yumi, it's not your fault. You didn't do it on purpose."

"This...all our hard work..." her head was spinning and she clutched Jaemin's hand a lot tighter, panic and terror filling her. "Oh, god, Jaemin, what have I done?"

She let go of his hand and kneeled by the wall, her hand brushing the surface. Her finger came away stained bright red, but there was no changing the fact that it was ruined.

She took deep breaths and closed her eyes, trying to calm herself. There had to be some way she could fix this horrible mess. But the only thing that spun around wildly in her was how disappointed and angry everyone would be with her. She imagined the shocked and horrified looks of her art club members, the disappointment and anger on the face of their supervisor, and felt like a failure of a president.

"Hey, hey," Jaemin knelt next to her, patting her shoulder. "Don't cry, this is fixable."

"How?" she demanded, wiping away the tears she didn't realize had fallen. "This entire bottom part—it's supposed to be green, Jaemin, not bright red."

"We'll come back tonight with the can of white paint I bought just in case," he told her confidently, as if he intended to help her with fixing it. "We'll paint it over and redraw it if there's enough time when it dries. If not, then tomorrow, when we all meet up."

"But that's so much work lost," she moaned, burying her face in her hands. "They'll be so angry with me. How can I explain what happened? A moment of clumsiness ruining it will be just the thing I need to get kicked off!"

"You're not going to get kicked out, you're our president," he insisted. "Listen to me, Yumi. We're going to my house and get the paint. We'll come right back and repaint it, no matter how bad it looks, and after it dries, if we have enough time, redraw it. Okay?"

She looked up with teary eyes. "Alright," she said in a small voice. She didn't know what else to do other than accept his help. She didn't think any of the others would be able to come up with such a simple and effective solution so quickly. "Let's go, then."

She stood up on shaky legs, crossing the courtyard to get her backpack. The wall was at the front of the school, just inside the gates. All the easier to see the mess she had made. Why, oh why, did she have to be so damn clumsy? At least Jaemin was helping her out of it. That was Na Jaemin—ready to help, always there, basically the dude you need in a pinch.

By this point, you've probably figured out that Han Yumi definitely had a bit of a crush on Na Jaemin, the boy who kept asking her out, and wondering why she kept turning him down if so.

The answer is simple: she couldn't say yes. Even though Jaemin was so kind and so nice and a bit annoying, even though he was very cute to not just her, and even though he had a special affection for her, she was simply too terrified of the consequences to say yes and finally let Jaemin see that she liked him, too.

Was that cowardly? Yes. Did she care? Yes. But could she do anything about it? No.

"Yumi?" Jaemin's voice drifted across the rapidly darkening courtyard. "Come on, we have to catch the bus to my place, it's too dark to walk there now."

"A minute!" Yumi called back, shoving her pencils and dried brushes into her backpack, hunting through it to find her hair tie. Once she found it, she slid it onto her wrist like a bracelet, meaning to use it later. Then she headed back to join Jaemin, who had his own backpack slung onto his shoulder.

They were just about to exit the gates together when a stern voice called, "what is this mess, both of you?"

She froze, terrified to even turn around. Jaemin gently took her by the upper arm and made her face the stern countenance of their supervisor. "Um, I..." she couldn't begin to form the correct words and looked to Jaemin for help. "I just..."

"What Yumi means is," Jaemin intervened, "that I accidentally dropped the can of paint in trying to pass it to her. See the painted bit up there? I was trying to pass it up to Yumi when she was trying to paint it while holding her ladder steady. A stupid idea, I know. She nearly lost her balance trying to accept it from me, and I dropped it in a panic."

Yumi forced herself not to look at Jaemin in wonderment. Did he really just lie as easily as breathing and make it sound so believable? Just to cover for her, knowing how much trouble she would be in? The supervisor's face softened as she studied the two of them.

"That was a very careless idea, Na Jaemin," she said sternly. "Do not repeat such a thing ever again. As for the mess, that's a lot of work gone."

"That's why we're going to get a fresh can of paint," Yumi piped up, surprised that her voice wasn't shaky. "To paint it over, maybe redraw it if it's not too late at night by the time it dries. We did it, so we're fixing it."

"It is a weekend..." the supervisor seemed to mull over this. "Alright. Just go straight home and come back, and when you're done, go right back to your homes. No detours at night, understood?"

"Yes, ma'am," Yumi said quickly, thinking that the supervisor sounded like her mother.

"Good," she nodded. "Be on your way, then."

Barely suppressing a sigh of relief, Yumi turned away and began to walk with Jaemin by her side. As soon as they were out of earshot, she exclaimed, "did you just cover for me and get yourself in trouble, too?"

"Well, the blame isn't entirely on me—"

"But some of it is on you now, nonetheless," she frowned at him. "You didn't have to do that, you know. It wasn't your fault; I was just careless and clumsy."

"Those are two different things," he observed.

"You get what I mean," she sighed. "That was a huge favor, Jaemin. If I'd gotten in any more trouble this week, I would have been grounded, or worse. Then I wouldn't be able to join you guys tomorrow and the day after to finish the mural."

"What do you mean, more trouble?" Jaemin looked at her curiously as they approached the bus stop. The sun was beginning to set, the golden rays flooding the streets, some warmth still lingering despite the chill in the air. "Han Yumi, model student, in trouble?"

"I meant with my parents," she amended. "Not like they approve of my art obsession to begin with, but even they understand that as dumb as it sounds to them, this mural is kind of a big deal. Besides that, me—" she stopped abruptly, not wanting to overshare and Jaemin didn't comment on it. "Anyway, point is, I'm grateful to you. Thank you. What can I do to repay you?"

Jaemin reddened a bit. "Nothing! I don't expect nor want anything from you."

Yumi noted that he didn't bring up the subject of his romantic interest in her for once. She wasn't sure how that made her feel. "Well, I know that, but I still want to do a little favor back."

The bus appeared down the street, rolling steadily towards them. Jaemin pursed his lips and watched it approach, apparently thinking. Yumi hoped he wasn't thinking of a nice way to let her know that she was being too kind or something.

"Do this quiz with me," he said. "Thirty-six questions, so I'm asking for thirty-six minutes. It's supposed to make people fall in love. I want to try this with you."

Ah. There it is, she thought, but she blinked. "Say what, now? A quiz to fall in love?"

"Yep," he looked at her, his gaze full of a stubborn determination. "Thirty-six minutes. That's all I'm asking for. Let's see if I can make you fall in love with me, Han Yumi."

***

"Let me get this straight," Yumi looked Jaemin in the eye. "You're telling me that you found an article on the Internet about a bunch of questions that made people fall for each other and even get married? And you want to try it on me?"

Her tone was disbelieving, and her expression plainly said, I am not sure about this at all.

"I even have them here!" Jaemin sounded like he was trying to defend himself. He dug through his backpack and handed her a brand-new notebook. Yumi flipped it open to read what these questions were supposed to be, finding them written on the first few pages. "They're not completely ridiculous?"

"So the whole idea is to get to know your partner as a person, which allows you to fall in love or whatever, as far as I can tell," she looked up and handed it back to him. "You think these questions will make me want to date you?"

"Maybe," he shrugged. "Maybe not. Can't know until we tried. I told you, Yumi. I'm not going to give up trying to win your heart until you tell me, in clear words, that you want me to stop asking. I'll back off then."

She didn't reply to that, turning her head to look at the buildings roll past the window. The rocking movement of the bus didn't bother her, but the cold and the closeness to Jaemin did. How would she tell him that he had long since won her heart? She wanted more than anything to tell him, but she was scared of what her parents would do. It was ridiculous and she knew it—she was almost eighteen and she shouldn't be so restrained by her parents. But that was the way it was.

And yet, she wanted to rebel and go with what her heart was saying for once in her life. Jaemin clearly liked her a lot. He wasn't exactly obsessed with her, but he wasn't dating anyone else for the fact that his heart was taken by her. And with a boy like that—well, she didn't see any other reasons to not just accept him.

To hell with the consequences, she thought. If this works, it works. I'll deal with what comes my way when it's here.

"Thirty-six minutes to fall in love with you?" she said, turning to look at him. "Okay, then. Na Jaemin, try your best. We'll see if this quiz is enough incentive to finally give in and date you."

"Really?" Jaemin's face lit up. "You mean that?"

"Well, why not?" she shrugged. "Might as well as have something to talk about while we get that painting job done."

"Thank you!" he cheered. "Han Yumi, I'm going to win you by the end of this, just you wait!"

"Oh, we'll see," she pretended to be skeptical about it, but fact was that he was correct. By the end of the quiz, he would know that he had long since won her over. Her parents would have to deal with it if they found out (she hoped it didn't come to that).

***

The bus stopped just a few feet away from her house, and she mentioned this to Jaemin, who said that his house was just a walk of five minutes away, which meant they had the same bus stop and got off at it.

"Wait out here, I'll just go put my stuff in my room and change into something more sensible," she said, indicating her uniform. "Would that take too long?"

"No," he shook his head. "Go on."

Yumi smiled at him and quickly sprinted towards her house. It was silent save for the sound of her parents watching TV in the living room when she entered. She didn't want to face them yet, but they saw her walking past the doorway and called out to her.

"You're home late," her mother remarked. "Is it the art club again?"

"We're doing the mural," Yumi reminded her. "I'm going back to the school, there's a few things we need to do before we start the painting job tomorrow."

"Don't be out too late, then," her father said. She nodded and headed upstairs without another word, relieved that they hadn't argued with her about it. If they had, then poor Jaemin would have had to wait out there for ages.

She put her backpack down on her desk and quickly grabbed a pair of comfortable jeans and a short-sleeved shirt, thinking that it was best if she kept paint off her clothes as much as she could—and it was a near guarantee that wearing longer sleeves meant she would probably get some paint on it.

She wondered why she was so clumsy, even with art, the one thing she was great at.

As soon as she had that on, she checked to make sure she still had her hair tie, meaning to tie her hair later, grabbed her phone, a few large paintbrushes, and headed back downstairs. This time, neither her mother nor her father stopped her, much to her relief. Jaemin was still waiting right where she left him, eyes cast skyward.

"What're you looking at?" she asked him.

"The stars," he replied. "I wish we could see them. My grandmother loved telling me stories about the stars—from the old Greek myths to pretty much anything she could come up with. It's sad that I barely see them."

"True," she agreed, following him as he began to walk off. "Too bad that it's impossible to see the stars clearly in a city like Seoul. Too much light."

"I've heard that you can't see them clearly, even out in space," Jaemin said. "You know, when you're orbiting the Earth. Apparently, the light pollution from the cities are too great to clearly see anything."

"That's just sad," Yumi commented. "I've always had a fascination with the stars. Even the ceiling of my bedroom is covered with stars that I've painted. I must have been at about eleven years old or so. I'm thinking of redoing them, though."

"Why?"

"It just looks kind of childish," she admitted. "An easier way would be to give it a fresh coat of paint—and then stick glow-in-the-dark stickers up there, maybe. I've always wanted to try that."

"My room has glow-in-the-dark stickers, too," Jaemin offered. "My sister put them up there when we were kids and sharing the same room. She got the bigger one when we grew older, though."

"She's older than you?"

"Yeah, by maybe a year and a half."

"I don't have any siblings," Yumi said, "but I have a lot of cousins, from both sides of the family. At least three always come over during the weekends, which means I get no peace with the younger ones raising hell."

"Ouch," he said sympathetically. "That can't be nice, considering how much you value your peace and quiet."

She gave him a sideways glance. "I've never told you that, though."

"It's easy enough to notice, if you pay attention. And I pay a lot of attention to you."

"Oh, really?" she didn't bother hiding her smile from him.

"Yep," he was grinning right back at her. "Whenever I pass by your class, you look a lot like my mother does when me and my sister start fighting—fists clenched, kind of like you're trying not to throw something. Sometimes you get that look when we're at a meeting and everyone's being loud and hyper instead of working."

"Okay, you've caught me," she laughed. "That's exactly correct."

"See, I know you amazingly well," he said with exaggerated pride. Yumi rolled her eyes at him, shoving him lightly by the shoulder. He barely even staggered.

They walked on, stopping in front of a house where only the lower level was lit up—a place the same as most other houses in the area. "Here we are," Jaemin announced. He began walking towards it, and Yumi scrambled after him. "Come on."

"Wait, you want me to go in with you?" she squeaked.

"Yeah, why not?" he asked, apparently oblivious to her panic. "I can't carry both of the cans by myself up the stairs. They're in the basement."

"I—well—never mind," she sighed in defeat. "Let's hurry back to the school."

Jaemin gave her an odd look, and then opened the door. Warm air drifted out, relieving Yumi of the chill she felt out in the night air in just a shirt and jeans. She stuck close to Jaemin as they stepped inside, unsure what she was so afraid of.

"Jaemin?" a woman poked her head out of a doorway that Yumi presumed led to the kitchen. "Why are you so late coming home? And who's your friend?"

"A little complication with the mural," Jaemin said. "This is the president of the club, you know—Han Yumi."

The way Jaemin's mother raised her eyebrow as Yumi smiled self-consciously made her think that Jaemin must talk about her in a way that made even his mother realize that his admiration for her went beyond a friend's opinion.

"Nice to meet you," the woman said. "Jaemin speaks highly of you."

"I figured," Yumi replied, hoping her smile and slight blush didn't give her away. "He's rather obvious about it."

"Okay, thanks, let's get the paint," Jaemin interrupted, grabbing her by the arm and very hastily, steering her towards the staircase and around the side to a door set in the wall. "Seriously, you two ganging up on me?"

"You've asked me out multiple times," she reminded him. "Hard not to notice. Besides, I think your mother's already figured out how much you like me. Why the rush to get me away from her?"

"Embarrassment is still a thing," he grumbled, opening the door and flipping a switch on the wall. "Come on, it's right by the base of the stairs."

She followed him downstairs, squinting in the barely-enough light provided by a naked bulb affixed to center of the ceiling. As he'd said, two cans of paint stood by the base, one white and the other green. "For tomorrow," he explained when she looked at him.

She hefted the white paint can onto one hand but found she couldn't lift it, so she took it by both hands and hauled it up the stairs with Jaemin right behind her. "Why is it so heavy?" she demanded, looking down at it.

"It's a larger can than normal," he replied. "My dad bought it in case we needed more."

"Smart."

Together, they hauled it out and set it by the front door. "Can you wait while I go and get changed?" Jaemin asked her. "Don't want to ruin the uniform."

"Go ahead," she waved a hand. "I'll be right here."

He turned to go, but paused when a girl came down the stairs. She went to enter the kitchen, but stopped when she caught sight of Jaemin and Yumi. By the resemblance to Jaemin, Yumi guessed that this was his older sister. She smiled awkwardly at the older girl, realizing that she's seen her at school a few times.

"Your girlfriend?" the girl asked, narrowing her eyes at Yumi. "She looks like that girl you talk about—the art club president? From the way you describe her, I'd guess so."

"She is, on both counts," Jaemin replied without missing a beat, sliding an arm around a startled Yumi's shoulders as if it were nothing. She tried desperately to keep from blushing red, but failed. "Why the hostility?"

"Nothing," the girl said, staring at Yumi. "This is the girl you talk about so much?"

"She is," Jaemin said again, this time a sharp edge coming into his voice. Yumi hadn't ever seen him become irritated so easily. "What are you trying to say?"

"Nothing important," his sister said.

Jaemin opened his mouth to retort, but Yumi nudged him, not wanting to see a fight. He looked at her, opened his mouth again, then closed it. He looked to his sister, shook his head, and detached from Yumi, brushing past the older girl and bounding up the stairs. Before he disappeared, he shot her a reassuring look. She hoped her smile didn't look too rattled.

"Are you really his girlfriend?" Jaemin's sister asked.

Yumi felt a flash of irritation. What kind of person did this girl think her brother was? "Yes," she said simply, keeping her face carefully blank. The girl studied her for a while longer, and then turned, walking into the kitchen without another word. Yumi exhaled, relieved that it hadn't come to a confrontation.

Ever since she'd seen her parents argue almost violently one night when she was nine, she'd had a certain fear and disliking of confrontations and fights, whether she was the one in it or watching it. It was the reason that, even if she didn't like what was happening or was going to happen, she kept her mouth shut. It was better to take what was given to her than start an argument.

It was also the reason that, against her protests, she was made club president. She wasn't sure when or how they decided she had 'good leadership skills,' but she did have a gift for rallying people when she needed to, and she was sure that her artwork was decent enough. But the idea of having such a huge role terrified her, and all she'd been able to say was "I don't deserve this," which the supervisor would not hear. So she'd taken on the role and tried her best with it.

Her fingers tapped aimlessly on the wall as she waited for Jaemin to come back down. She hoped his sister didn't emerge, anxious to be gone before she did. She hadn't done anything wrong, exactly, but the way she looked at Yumi and spoke to her put her off. From the way Jaemin got irritated so quickly, she guessed they didn't exactly have the best relationship.

Moments like those, she wondered if she was dumb to wish she had siblings. She knew siblings fought and a lot at that, but when she witnessed relationships such as Jaemin and his sister's, she wondered if she really should be wishing for a little more life in the house. Someone to keep her company during the lonely days and nights.

Better not to think about it, she decided.

"You look like you're lost in dreamland," Jaemin's voice sounded near her. She jumped, startled. She hadn't noticed him approaching. "Now I know you really were."

"Lost in my inner thoughts, more like," she smiled, taking note of the fact that he was dressed in a similar style to her. Actually, almost exactly the same—his shirt and jeans were similar to hers, the color and material being different. She decided not to make a comment on that, finding it cute that intentionally or not, he was mimicking her.

They quickly left the house behind. Lugging the paint can tired her arm out before long, and she found that she couldn't shift it over to the arm, because clenched in her hand were the paintbrushes. She decided to just bear the weight as best as she could as they headed towards the bus stop.

Arriving at it, she put it down with a sigh of relief, her arm screaming from the weight of it. She had never realized how heavy one of those things could be before that.

"You're quiet," Jaemin finally said after a few minutes of waiting. "What is it?"

"Nothing, just tired," Yumi said. She flexed her aching arm. "It's been a long week, and a few of my cousins are coming over for the weekend. I appreciate the company, but it seems unfair that I should have to share my room with the most annoying of the bunch when there's three others."

"That's annoying," Jaemin commented. "We can hang out after we get the mural done. I know you're a bit of a solitary person, but some of my friends will be joining us if so."

"I'll have to spend most of tomorrow with them," she said regretfully. "How about the afternoon of Sunday? As long as I'm home by sunset it'll be fine."

"We can catch a movie together," Jaemin's smile plainly showed how happy he was. "How does that sound?"

"That sounds great," she smiled right back at him. She realized that being in Jaemin's presence truly made her happy, and the reverse was true as well. Another reason why she wasn't going to turn him down tonight.

The bus appeared, rolling steadily towards them. "We'll arrange the details later tonight, if I'm allowed to go at all," she added as the large vehicle rolled to a stop in front of them. "Depends on my parents' mood."

"That's okay, tell me if they say yes," he nodded. "It'll be the first time we'll hang out together, won't it?"

"That's...true," she realized. "There's a first for everything, I suppose."

"Including you finally saying yes?"

"Don't get ahead of yourself."

***

As soon as they reached the school, they were dismayed to find that the lights were off. They spent a good few minutes hunting for the switches, and by the time they found it, Yumi had begun to lose hope that they'd be out of there before nine p.m. She hoped it would be done by then. Ten was her curfew if she needed to be out late for important things that were school-related, even on weekends. Not unreasonable, but still, it made her slightly panicky.

"Let's get to work," she said, trying in vain to get the lid off the can. "Oh, come on!"

"Hey, calm down," Jaemin knelt beside her and pried the lid off with some work. "Are you frustrated about the lack of time we have?"

"Yeah," she admitted. "I really don't want them mad at me."

Jaemin didn't ask who 'them' was. At this point, he'd already figured out that she was a girl who was under the strict control of her parents and afraid to step out of line for fear of their disapproval. He didn't seem to like it, either, judging from his pursed lips at her confession, but he kept his thoughts to himself.

"Alright, where're the brushes?" he asked. Yumi got up and sprinted across to the table where she'd put them down during the hunt for the switches. She brought two back, handing one to Jaemin. He dragged it over to the wall where the now-dried red paint stain was. "This shouldn't be too hard."

"I'd hope so," she said, studying the damage. "A few coats to cover it up should do."

"We'll be here all night if we're going to fix all of it," Jaemin pointed out. "Let's restrict ourselves to the area where the actual mural is—not the rest of the wall. We'll fix that tomorrow, and the same story goes if anyone asks."

"You certainly think ahead quickly," she commented, dipping the brush into the can. "It's a handy skill to have."

"When you fight with your sister almost constantly, it's a skill you'll eventually develop," he replied. "So, about the quiz?"

"I almost forgot!" Yumi smacked her forehead with her palm. "Let's do that while we paint. Kill two birds with one stone."

"I've never liked that expression," he laughed, putting his brush down and pulling out his phone from his pocket. "I took pictures of the pages. Handier and easier to use."

"Set a timer," Yumi suggested.

He tapped at his phone for a few seconds, and then looked up at Yumi. "Alright," he said. "Here's question number one."

✧✧✧

WORD COUNT: 5591

A/N: this has been sitting in my drafts since october 2021. good to see it actually written and published. thoughts so far? liking it?

i also wrote this for  bc she's crazy about jaemin. understandable, really, after all, he is THE na jaemin. enjoy, kris :)