Archive of Our Own

Chapter Text

"Sometimes, I regret that professor Wentz made us work together.”

"Really? Well then, let's fail this class. I'm exhausted with you always trying to act smart."

"Wait, please!"

"What? You're making it seem like you need my help."

"I do, Bada—"

"No, you don't. If you want to play the superior card, then deal with it. I'm done with your bullshit."

"I can't do this on my own. If I fail, everything I've worked for will crumble."

Chapter Text

As the university's student council president, you had to follow a precise set of guidelines. Throughout the semester, you had to maintain a grade point average above 90 out of 100, avoid conflicts with teachers or classmates that could potentially ruin your reputation, actively promote various events and conferences, and collaborate closely with the school administration. Despite your admirable performance in your first term as president, the need to balance school work and the council's activities made you stressed. Expecting a more mature environment in university, you were disappointed to find that gossip about classmates had not decreased but had escalated. Unnecessary remarks about your student council peers and their efforts were plenty, and at times, you found yourself receiving unfair criticism. Nevertheless, this never truly phased you, as having such comments since your first semester as president made you get used to the negativity.

The first day of the winter semester marked the return to your familiar routine. The anticipation of reuniting with friends, particularly your closest friend and vice-president of the student council, Jo Gayoung, added a touch of excitement, particularly with your almost matching schedules. You went down the stairs of your apartment, backpack in hand, to find Gayoung patiently waiting outside.

"Hey there!" you greeted, opening the car's door to settle into the passenger seat. "I forgot how cold it gets this early. Seven in the morning is no joke," you chuckled, settling your backpack between your legs.

"You should've not worn a skirt," the orange-haired girl said as she began driving. "So, what's your first class? I know our schedules coincide, but not this one."

"It's Investigation and Project Development with Professor Wentz," you replied, quickly checking your makeup in the mirror. "And you?"

"Corpus Linguistics with Professor Elodie," she answered. Gayoung's passion for linguistics was unreal, though you leaned more towards writing, hence the different class choice. "Heard Elodie's nice, but I know Wentz randomly assigns project groups, so everyone ends up working with someone they don't know."

You turned to her with a raised eyebrow. "Random partners for an investigation? Seriously?" you mouthed, doubtful. "I hope I luck out with a decent partner, or else I'll be pulling all-nighters."

"As usual," Gayoung remarked, stopping at a red light. "Oh, by the way, I got you a coffee," she said, pointing towards the drink in the cup holder.

You took a sip of your coffee as Gayoung drove to school, arriving quickly. After parking, you shared goodbyes before heading off to your respective classrooms—entering Professor Wentz's room, you settled at the back, grabbing your laptop from your backpack to look through emails, as being the student council president meant your inbox was never empty, not even on the first day of classes.

"Good morning, class," Professor Wentz's voice echoed through the classroom, prompting you to look up at him. "Let's take attendance."

As he called out each name, the door creaked open, revealing who you assumed to be the dance club leader, Bada Lee—someone you had never spoken to directly. "Hi, sorry I'm late," she apologized upon entering.

The professor smiled, assuring her it was no issue as the tall girl settled into a seat in front of you. When Professor Wentz called your name, you replied softly. "Here."

"Ah, the student council president is here," he remarked, ticking off your attendance. You could not help but smile at the recognition, but then you heard a low groan, and you were almost certain it came from the dancer in front of you—leaving you to wonder if she had some sort of issue with you.

As he finished the attendance, he began explaining the course, going over how it was going to be evaluated. “As you may know, it's some sort of rumor at this point,” he chuckled. “Our university holds an annual international conference, in which you will all show the results of your investigation you’ll do in this class. Here comes the fun part, I’ll be the one making the pairs for the investigation, the goal for this is to give you a look into what your professional life might be, you’ll always work with people you don’t know, or even people you dislike.” 

As Professor Wentz retrieved his attendance list, your heartbeat quickened, hoping to be paired with Haechi, a fellow student council member, or perhaps Yeni, with whom you had worked in other classes before. A student raised their hand, and the professor nodded at them. "What if our partner doesn't want to work with us or doesn't cooperate?" they asked.

"You'll inform me, and I'll allow you to work alone," Professor Wentz replied. "Now, let's begin with the first pair—Lane and Kamba, followed by Matsuda and Hirokawa, then Lee and L/N—" you nodded, realizing you were paired with the girl seated in front of you. You tapped her shoulder, but she only glanced at you from the corner of her eye, not bothering to turn.

"Hi, I'm Y/N," you attempted to introduce yourself quietly, but Bada cut you off.

"I know," She responded bluntly. "Just give me your number, and we'll get through this, unfortunately."

Her rude tone caused you to raise an eyebrow. "Huh? Um, okay," you replied, writing down your number in pink ink on a small piece of paper. "There you go," Bada snatched the paper and crumpled it, tucking it into the pocket of her jeans.

Chapter Text

The class ended quickly, with the professor finalizing the pairs. You headed straight to the student council office, retrieving your keys from your backpack to unlock the door. Flicking on the lights, you set your backpack down, grabbing your laptop before settling at the desk. Absorbed in your student council tasks, you were interrupted by a knock at the door. It swung open to reveal the tall figure of the dancer. "Hey, did the coordinator hand you the dance studio keys?" she asked, closing the door behind her and leaning against the wall with crossed arms.

"Hi. Sure, just let me check," you replied with a soft smile, reaching for the drawer filled with club keys. "Bada, right?" you asked, even though you knew the answer. "We need to go over the information Professor Wentz sent for tomorrow."

Bada rolled her eyes. "Yeah, it's Bada," she confirmed, stepping closer to your desk. "I'll look into it later and text you."

Handing her the key, you watched as she snatched it from your hand. "Take good care of it, okay? I only have one spare. Anything else I can help you with?" you said with a smile.

"I know how to take care of my shit, Y/N," Bada retorted, her tone laced with irritation as she ignored your question. "So, mind your own business."

Confused, you frowned as the door opened again, revealing Gayoung entering the office. "Oh, hey, Bada," she greeted the dancer, placing her backpack on the floor. 

Ignoring Gayoung, Bada stormed out, slamming the door behind her. "What the fuck—" you muttered, hoping the girl did not hear you. "She's been acting like this all day, I don’t know what’s up with her attitude."

"All day?" Gayoung asked, taking a seat opposite you. "Was she in your first class?"

"Yeah, and she's my partner in the investigation," you sighed, noticing Gayoung's expression shift. "What's wrong?"

"I've heard she's pretty careless about school. She only cares about the dance club," Gayoung remarked, shrugging her shoulders. "And word around is, she's not exactly fond of you."

Confusion flashed in your eyes as you turned to Gayoung. "What do you mean?" you asked, and Gayoung let out a chuckle. "She hates me or something?"

"Remember when the administration made us evaluate the university's clubs?" the older girl asked, and you nodded, recalling the previous semester when the student council had to evaluate the clubs' leadership and organization. The poetry club ranked first, followed by the foreign language club, the reading and writing club, the sports club, and finally, the dance club. "Well, she found out everything you wrote in the evaluation."

"But, I mean—everything I said was true. Her club is consistently messy and disorganized, and there's always some drama at their events where she gets angry with her club members. I didn't lie—she just lacks the leadership skills required to manage a club," you defended, not missing a beat. Gayoung nodded in understanding. "If it hit a nerve, it's because there was some truth to it."

"Well, she didn't take it well at all. She went off on you, calling you a 'smart bitch' who's always trying to control people," Gayoung revealed, and you could not help but let out a giggle. "I've got the screenshots—Yeni sent them to me. Want to take a look?"

Gayoung retrieved her phone and opened her chat with Yeni, searching for the screenshots. Once found, she handed her phone over to you. As you examined the screenshots, it revealed the dance club leader's venomous words: calling you a bitch, accusing you of craving attention as the president, saying how stupid you were for thinking you were smarter than anyone else, and expressing outright hatred towards you.

"And now I'm paired up with her for both the investigation and the congress," you muttered, unbelieving at your unfortunate luck, handing Gayoung her phone back. "Let's see what happens."

The day flew by, with just two classes in your schedule. Gayoung dropped you off at your apartment, and once you entered your room, you collapsed onto your bed. You grabbed your phone and noticed a notification, likely from Bada.

+821055570582: i checked wentz’s email

+821055570582: we just have to read, right? 

+821055570582: if it’s just reading everything, i did it [2:23 p.m]

You were taken aback by her initiative in reaching out and reading Professor Wentz's email, especially after discussing her laziness and her sentiments towards you. It brought a slight sense of relief, increasing your hopes that perhaps working with her would not be as difficult as initially thought. 

y/n: yes, just reading!

y/n: i was wondering, would you like to work in the library or in the student council office?

y/n: my office is always nice and we have a coffee maker and snacks :) [2:44 p.m]

bada lee: your office is fine

bada lee: ig see you tomorrow 

bada lee: after class, we can work on the investigation [2:46 p.m]

y/n: what about your club? [2:46 p.m]

bada lee: why the sudden interest? LOL

bada lee: after all, we’re unorganized and messy, right? [2:47 p.m]

You could not help but roll your eyes as you read her recounting the evaluation. You sighed, questioning why she was so bothered by it—after all, there were no consequences for her; it was merely a task you carried out as the president. It seemed your words had struck a nerve, even though they were only adjectives. What was so terrible about being labeled unorganized and messy when it was true? When facing criticism as a leader, it should serve as a motivation for improvement, not a reason for offense. Throughout your term as president, you learned to acknowledge your mistakes, recognizing that is what makes you human. 

y/n: i was just asking lol

y/n: see you tomorrow, have a good day [2:48 p.m]

Chapter Text

Entering Professor Wentz's classroom, you sat at your desk at the back, absorbed in looking through the reading material on your laptop—despite having already gone through it. Lost in the PDF file, you were clueless about Bada's presence until she stood before you, her hand closing your laptop. "Hi, Bada," you greeted, your voice soft. "I'm reviewing the reading again."

"I need to talk to you—privately," Bada stated, her gaze fixed on you. "But let's talk about it later, in your office."

"Of course," you inquired, curious, reopening your laptop and focusing on the screen, causing her to retreat a step. "You can ask me anything."

"Can't you look at me when we talk?" Bada questioned, prompting you to meet her gaze, maintaining a calm demeanor. "I'll explain later. I'm not going to talk about it now."

As Bada settled into the desk beside you, it was a reminder that you had to collaborate in the investigation. You could not help but notice the differences between her belongings and yours—her sleek black laptop contrasted with your silver one decorated with cute stickers, her navy blue backpack against your pink one—even her phone was bare without a case, while yours, was encased in a clear case adorned with stickers and keychains.  You gazed at the little details on her face, not in a creepy way, you were just curious—her slim nose, her rosy lips, the lack of makeup, her long lashes and her pale skin. 

"What are you looking at?" she asked, catching you off guard. Before you could answer, Professor Wentz entered the classroom, shifting your attention.

He began taking attendance and then delved into the class agenda. "Group up, everyone," he instructed. Bada slid her chair closer to your desk, prompting you to shift to the right so she could place her laptop on your desk. "You'll need to decide on the investigation topic with your partner now. You'll have the whole class hour for this."

You turned to Bada, showing a gentle smile. "Have you thought about any topic you want to investigate?" you inquired, and she shook her head. "Well, I don't know what you like more—linguistics, interpretation, or translation."

"Maybe translation," she replied, her attention still fixed on her screen. You could not help but find it ironic that she insisted on eye contact while speaking, yet she seemed unwilling to reciprocate. "Linguistics isn't really my thing."

"Translation it is, then," you agreed. "Perhaps we could investigate common errors encountered during the translation process."

Bada looked at you before speaking. "We could also review and practice some translation exercises with other students," you smiled, feeling a sense of ease with her suggestions—maybe working with Bada was going to be better than expected. "Sounds good?"

"Yes, let me come up with a title, and I'll add you to the document," you said, quickly typing a title and adding Bada to the document.

You showed your laptop screen to her, and she read aloud. "Common Syntax and Typographic Errors in Translation—I like it." 

You and Bada were discussing the approach for the investigation, deciding to begin by documenting sources and then having students translate so you could analyze the errors. Professor Wentz gave the green light to your idea, allowing you to leave class early. Bada headed to her studio while you walked to the student council office, finding Yeni and Haechi inside.

"Hey there, sports coordinator," you greeted Haechi, receiving a wave in return before turning to Yeni. "Weren't you two supposed to be in Wentz's class?" you asked, dropping your backpack to the floor and grabbing your laptop.

"We were, but we dropped out," Yeni replied with a giggle. "Had to work with Ririka, who's just a lazy bitch."

"Watch your language," Haechi cautioned, hearing Yeni's blunt description of the Japanese girl. "Ririka's nice, but she's definitely lazy—I heard she's failed Wentz's class before. And I got stuck with Ruka, who gives off such weird vibes towards me."

You chuckled as you settled behind your desk, leaving Haechi and Yeni in the chairs facing you. "Well, I'm teamed up with Bada."

Both girls looked at you surprised. "Bada Lee? The dance club leader?" Yeni exclaimed, and you confirmed with a nod. "Fuck—she hates you. Like, she really hates you."

"I know—I've seen the screenshots," you replied casually, opening your email to check for any important messages. "Gayoung showed them to me, but aside from a few odd comments, Bada's been surprisingly polite."

Haechi let out a laugh. "She's two-faced. Bada knows she needs your help for the investigation, but I bet the moment she's out of class or back home, she's talking shit about you in her group chats," she remarked. Yeni nodded, pulling out her phone to show you. "Lucky for us, we've got an insider in the Bada Lee group chat."

Laughter filled the room as you reached for Yeni's phone to look at the group chat. There, you saw Bada's outspoken remarks, expressing a preference to work with anyone but you and even labeling you "controlling" for suggesting the investigation title, despite her earlier approval. The comment that particularly stung was when she labeled you as "weird" for just glancing her way.

"Isn't she just the epitome of politeness?" you joked, chuckling. "I won't drop out of Wentz's class. I'll see if we can make it work."

Yeni and Haechi excused themselves for their next class, leaving you to think about the situation. Just as you contemplated your next move, an email popped up—announcing the cancellation of your next class. Knowing Gayoung was going to the library, you texted Bada, asking if she wanted to work so you could leave early. 

bada lee: sure, let me go to your office [8:51 a.m]

y/n: okayy! [8:51 a.m]

bada lee: you have coffee, right? [8:52 a.m]

y/n: yup, i’ll make you a cup [8:52 a.m]

You rose from your desk, grabbed a mug and a coffee capsule, and placed it on the coffee maker, pressing the button to start brewing. As the aroma filled the room, Bada entered the office. "Hey, do you want creamer for your coffee?" She nodded as she settled into the chair across from your desk.

"Sure, thanks," she replied, a mannerly gesture that contrasted her texts. Retrieving a creamer from the drawer, you placed it alongside her mug. "Thank you."

"What did you want to talk about?" you asked, recalling your earlier conversation.

Pouring the creamer into her coffee, Bada glanced at you over the rim of her mug as she took a sip. "Remember when you called my club messy?"

You nodded. "Yes, but it was part of my responsibility, you know? The administration expects detailed evaluations, and I don't play favorites with any club. Everyone was evaluated fairly."

She rolled her eyes and sighed. "If that's what you want to say," she muttered as you settled back into your chair. "I just don't see it your way. My club isn't messy."

"Bada, every time I've visited the dance club, there were backpacks scattered about, trash on the floor, and the mirrors were unclean. Even the lights don't work right at times. You don't even need to clean yourselves; you can request it through the office, or I could arrange it," you explained firmly, watching as she took another sip of her coffee.

"Okay," she replied after a pause, taking a deep breath. "So what's your point? It's not like you're personally affected by it."

"Consider the impression it leaves on people. Would you want to join a club that's disorganized?" you said, maintaining your polite tone. "I don't think; it was simply part of my duties. I don't think your club is bad; I just observed it to be untidy."

"Why even bother, Ms. President?" she retorted sarcastically, her eyes rolling once again. Disrespect was something that irked you, so seeing her roll her eyes twice at you, made you angry. "Whether my club is messy or not is not your problem."

"Because it's my obligation," you responded, your tone questioning. "When the administration tasks me with something, I'm obligated to do it."

"Maybe ease up on being the administration's lapdog," Bada retorted, and you shot her a disbelieving glance. "It's all you ever do. Suck the administration's cock."

"Bada, let's focus on the investigation," you spoke, hoping to steer the conversation away from conflict.

"Honestly, I couldn't care less," she replied, leaving her mug on your desk. "But it's true, you're just a bit—"

You cut her off before she could say another insult. "Bada Lee," you addressed her firmly, using her full name to assert authority. "I won't tolerate your disrespect. You're free to say what you want behind my back, but I don't want you to speak like that to me when I'm here. If you can't manage that, then leave."

With a quick motion, Bada got up from her seat, snatching her backpack. "You don't have to ask me twice," she said, storming out and slamming the door behind her, leaving you alone.

Your eyes welled up with tears, a mixture of emotions swirling inside you—anger, stress, and the daunting of having to work with her for the next two months leading up to the conference. "This is going to be tough," you muttered to yourself, a tear going down your cheek.

Chapter Text

Gayoung sensed something was wrong when you sat in her car for the ride home. The tension in your posture, the fatigue in your eyes, and your demeanor—it spoke volumes. "What happened? Did she do something?" she inquired, concern evident in her voice. “Should I beat her up?” 

“No, don’t even think about it, Gayoung,” you looked at her, placing your backpack in your lap. "Everything was fine until she called me a lapdog and a cocksucker and came close to calling me a bitch," you recounted, rolling your eyes at the memory.

The older girl chuckled. "Bada's got some nerve—calling a lesbian a cocksucker is quite the bold move," seeing your serious expression, she apologized. "Sorry, I had to lighten the mood."

As Gayoung pulled out of the parking lot, you sighed deeply. "I'm just so tired of her. I can't even confront her because if she complains to the administration, I'm fucked," you said, closing your eyes and absentmindedly cracking your knuckles. "If word gets out that I have problems with her, they could revoke my presidency, and then it's all yours."

"I don't want to be the fucking president," Gayoung blurted out, prompting a slight chuckle from you. Gayoung's unintentional humor always made you feel better. "But it's true. The presidency means too much to you; you can't let Bada Lee ruin it."

"I've been trying to make my parents proud for so long, especially after they've been disappointed in me for what feels like forever," you sighed, resting your head against the car window. "After high school, I think the first time I truly made them feel proud was when I won against the other candidates."

"I know, Y/N," Gayoung replied softly, glancing at you to gauge your emotions. "You made them proud," she placed her hand on your knee, squeezing gently to offer comfort. "And you make me proud, too."

A gentle smile graced your lips as you returned the gesture, placing your hand atop Gayoung's. Despite your years of friendship, physical contact like this was a rarity, making it all the more meaningful. "Thank you. You know, my mom has come to accept I’m a lesbian now, but my dad—he'll never fully come around. I just want him to be proud of me like he was when I was little. Maybe, if I graduate next semester with honors and remain elected as president, I'll finally earn his pride. Last week, he said he was happy I was still doing well in school."

You took a deep breath, fighting back tears as you bit your lip. Your dad had always been your weak spot, and everything you had done since high school had been an attempt to make up for the fact that he struggled to accept your preference for girls. You had poured your heart into your achievements, hoping that if you were successful enough, he might forgive you. You were not about to let the issues with Bada jeopardize that, so you were determined to maintain civility and get a 100 in Professor Wentz's class.

Gayoung remained silent, knowing that sometimes you needed her presence more than words. As she pulled into the parking lot of your complex and parked her car, getting out and opening your door, she turned to you, opening her arms. "Come here, Y/N," she said softly.

Stepping out of the car, you left your backpack on the floor and closed the door behind you. Without hesitation, you hugged Gayoung, feeling her arms wrap around you—closing your eyes, you felt her warmth surrounding you, and the emotions you had been holding back burst, tears streaming down your cheeks. For a few minutes, neither spoke nor moved—as if time had paused while you held each other.

"Thank you, Gayoung," you said, letting go of the older girl and grabbing your backpack. "Do you want to stay over?"

Gayoung nodded, and you walked up the stairs to your apartment. Entering, you closed the door behind you, slipped off your shoes, and put on your slippers. Gayoung followed suit—it had become so common for her to stay over that you had everything she might need, from a toothbrush to pajamas and pajamas. 

You placed your backpack on the floor and lay on the sofa, leaving space for Gayoung. "I don't want to cook," you whined, causing Gayoung to chuckle. "I'm exhausted."

"I'll order something then," she suggested, sitting beside you and scrolling through her phone for options. "Burgers? Boneless? Pho? What are you craving?"

"Burger, please. I've been craving one, and I deserve it," you replied with a smile, reaching for your phone to transfer money to cover the cost. It was part of your routine; one-time Gayoung paid, and then you did, and now it was your turn.

As you sent the payment, Gayoung placed the order. After texting the other council members about an upcoming event, you were about to set your phone aside when you noticed Bada was writing a text. Showing it to Gayoung, you both exchanged suspicious glances. "What's she up to now?" Gayoung questioned, her expression tense. "If she says anything rude, I swear I'll—" 

"Don't even think about it. You'll only get into trouble," you warned, giggling. As you eyed your phone, you noticed Bada's prolonged typing pauses, indicating she was perhaps second-guessing her words. "She probably won't even send it."

"Maybe she's just asking you out on a date," Gayoung jokes, prompting you to get up to playfully shove her shoulders. "You know what they say, if you hate someone enough, you want to get in their pan—"

You cut her off, ignoring the joke. "She sent the text," you announced, your nervousness evident. Showing the notification to Gayoung, you explained. "I can't see the whole thing because it's too long. Only the first sentence is visible."

"Read it aloud," Gayoung urged, her curiosity piqued. "Open it up and read it."

Taking a deep breath, you complied, opening the text and scanning the first few words. "Alright, here we go," you said with a giggle, beginning to read aloud. "Y/N, sorry for my words. I was angry and blinded by my feelings. You don’t deserve to be insulted or belittled just because you were doing your job, which I know demands you to do certain things. I’ll take your words about my club more seriously and aspire to do better because I want to be a great club leader. I hope you forgive me and we can work this out since I don’t want us to be on bad terms, especially since we have to work together. I swear I’ll be a better person."

"Is she really sorry?" Gayoung asked, her skepticism evident. Just then, both of your phones dinged with a notification. Yeni had added Haechi, Gayoung, and you to a group chat titled "Snitching." You opened the chat and read the messages.

yeni 🌟: look at this shit @y/n  

yeni 🌟: [yeni has sent a photo] 

yeni 🌟: LOL, don’t believe her words [3:23 p.m]

Gayoung opened the photo and began reading aloud. "I had to apologize to that fucking girl, otherwise I’m failing Wentz’s class. She's smart and I can't write an investigation on my own," she skimmed past the non-Bada messages and continued. "Hope she falls for it,"  all of you started texting in the group chat, brainstorming how to respond to Bada's fake apology.

y/n: i’m not responding

y/n: what the fuck should i do [3:25 p.m]

gayoung 💜: fuck her

gayoung 💜: y/n won’t allow me to beat her up 

gayoung 💜: she literally just punched my shoulder because of that text [3:25 p.m]

haechi ✨️: what’s her deal? 

haechi ✨️: well, i guess you could just accept her apology and work with her, and if she keeps being a bitch just tell wentz 

haechi ✨️: or we’ll handle it ourselves :)  [3:36 p.m]

yeni 🌟: just be like ‘okay, let’s talk tomorrow’ and work with her and whatever, like haechi said 

yeni 🌟: and i’ll keep you updated

yeni 🌟: i say that bc i swear bada is just trying to get a reaction from you. she wants you to get angry with her, to fight her and if you won’t react, she’ll back off [3:38 p.m]

y/n: i’ll just say

y/n: ‘okay, don’t worry. we can talk tomorrow about it’

y/n: is that okay? [3:38 p.m]

haechi ✨️: yup

haechi ✨️: and take my word. if she’s shitty to you again, me and gayoung are going to make sure she won’t ever talk to you like that again. [3:39 p.m]

Chapter Text

Nearly three weeks had passed since Bada's insincere apology. Despite awkwardness and Yeni showing you screenshots of Bada venting about you in their group chat, everything had been flowing smoothly. You both worked on the investigation, and Professor Wentz expressed satisfaction with your progress. Overall, things seemed to be going well, and you felt confident that everything was under control. Today, the school administration assigned you the task of visiting the clubs to collect the names of new members for record-keeping purposes. Taking a deep breath, you approached the door of the dance club and knocked—the music paused, and Yeni answered the door.

"Hey, is Bada around?" you inquired softly, and Yeni guided you inside. You noticed Bada leaning against the wall, her gaze fixed on the floor amid scattered backpacks and water bottles—perhaps she thought you were there to report her uncleanliness to the administration. "Any new members? I just need their full names," you asked politely, smiling to ensure she did not feel threatened or misunderstand the situation.

Bada chuckled dryly, catching your attention. Adjusting her baseball cap, she raised an eyebrow. "Are you here to make fun of me?" she asked, causing you to tilt your head in confusion. Showing the paper provided by the administration, you gestured to indicate your task—simply gathering the full names of new members. Grabbing the paper, Bada walked to a nearby table, her expression unreadable. She reached for the pen tucked into your pink cardigan, signing the document with a fast stroke. "No new members," she muttered under her breath, making a pause between every word.  

"We haven't held auditions yet," Yeni said, attempting to relieve the tension. "But we'll have them soon."

Returning the paper and pen to you, Bada's demeanor softened slightly. "Let me know when you need to update the list," you remarked, emphasizing your sincerity. "I assure you, I'm not here to ridicule you."

With a self-assured grin, Bada jokes. "If you say so..."

Turning to leave, you waved Yeni goodbye with a smile. Glancing back, you reminded Bada. "Don't forget, we're working on the investigation today. We need to supervise the students' translations and analyze their errors."

You completed visiting each club, following your routine, and then returned to your office, anticipating Bada's arrival. As the time approached, you prepared to supervise Professor Dallon's students, grabbing a pen and a notepad just in case. Upon closing your office door and turning around, you were startled to find Bada standing silently behind you, prompting a small scream to escape your lips.

"Oh my fucking god—I didn't realize you were there," you exclaimed, your hand instinctively covering your mouth in surprise.

Bada shrugged, a soft chuckle escaping her lips. It seemed she found pleasure in catching you off guard, it seemed like she was doing it on purpose. "No worries. Heading to Dallon's class, right?" she asked, gesturing towards the third floor. "He's in the computer lab up there. I checked the schedule."

"Great, let's go," you responded, beginning to walk with Bada beside you. It struck you just how tall she was as you ascended the stairs, always towering over you, even if you were one step up the stairs. "Do you want to introduce us to the class?"

"I'll handle it," she replied. "And we're just observing their translations, correct?"

You nodded, your gaze dropping to the floor. Attempting to start a conversation, you asked. "What's your favorite artist to dance to?" but before you could continue, Bada shut down your attempt at friendliness.

"Don't even bother," she stated firmly, her gaze forward as she walked. "I'm not interested in being your bestie or whatever the fuck you want me to be. We're just partners for this assignment and the congress. After that, we're done."

"Oh, alright," you muttered, the rest of the walk unfolding in silence. Upon entering the computer lab, you exchanged greetings with the professor, who left you alone to supervise the students. Drawing closer to Bada, you whispered. "Whenever you're ready, we can begin."

Bada leaned in, adjusting her posture to match yours. "I'm ready," she affirmed, standing tall. "Hello, everyone. I'm Bada Lee, and you may recognize her—Y/N, our little president. We're here to supervise your translations as part of our investigation, titled 'Common Syntax and Typographic Errors in Translation.'"

The manner in which she presented you to the class almost appeared mocking, as if she were taunting you. Struggling to maintain composure, you spoke softly. "You'll be translating a news article, which we've already sent to your emails. If you have any questions about terminology or format, feel free to ask," you added, smiling. "You'll have thirty minutes to complete it. You may begin."

The students began to work, their fingers tapping away on the keyboards. You sat at the professor's desk, with the dancer standing behind you, her hands resting on the chair's edge. You leaned forward slightly, making space for her hands, a gesture of consideration even though it was not reciprocated. Throughout the session, the students asked for assistance on various topics, and you both were quick to offer guidance. The thirty minutes passed without much conversation between you and Bada, as your focus remained on helping the students, finally reminding them when the time was up.

Bada and you concluded the session, informing Professor Dallon that his students had completed and submitted their translations. As you and Bada made your way to the student council office, you held the door open for her. "Good job. Now we need to review everything and highlight any mistakes," you remarked, settling into your chair.

Taking a seat in front of you, Bada leaned forward, resting her elbows on your desk. "Can I be honest about something?" she asked, prompting you to nod. "I don't understand why you're trying to befriend me." 

"Because we have to work together for the next two months, and then there's the conference. You know—it's out of town, and the administration usually groups those who work together for the hotel and bus," you explained, observing the change in her expression as you mentioned sharing accommodations. "Yeah, we'll be roommates for three days at the conference."

"How am I supposed to share a room with you?" Bada exclaimed, her frustration evident.

“I don’t get it,” you mumbled, and before she could continue, you took the opportunity to speak again. "Why do you hate me so much? Is it because I called your club messy?" 

Bada's expression changed, her gaze momentarily flickering away before locking onto yours. "It's not just that," she admitted, her voice bitter. "It's everything. Your attitude, your position, and how you act like you're better than everyone else."

You listened quietly before responding. "I understand that you don't agree with everything I do, but I guarantee you, I'm just trying to be responsible and achieve my goals."

Bada remained silent for a moment, her expression softening. "I know," she muttered, seeming to consider your words. "Ugh—okay, but don't expect us to be friends. I’ll try to respect you." 

"Fair enough," you nodded, respecting her boundaries of not wanting a friendship. "As long as we can work together professionally, that's all that matters."

With an uncertain agreement reached, the tension in the room eased barely, and you both turned your attention to reviewing the translations submitted by the students. Despite the underlying conflict between you, there was a mutual understanding that teamwork was necessary for the success of the investigation and the conference.

Chapter Text

Bada was on the edge of dropping out of Wentz's class without a word. The constant texts from you about the investigation—questions like "Bada, what did you mean in the paragraph you wrote?" or "Bada, double-check your APA citations! You forgot to add them"—had worn her down. It had been only thirty minutes since the class ended, and already you were bombarding her with texts pointing out her mistakes. The frustration was noticeable as she clenched her phone between her hands and sighed deeply. Confrontation seemed inevitable as she was exhausted from you controlling everything—and that was exactly what she was doing, as she was knocking the door on the other side of your office. 

As the knocking echoed, you called out. "Yes? Come on in," the tall dancer entered the student council office—frustration etched into her expression. "What's going on?" 

Rather than taking a seat, Bada leaned against your desk, her hands pressed against the wooden surface as she looked down at you. "What's your fucking problem, huh?" she snapped sharply. "I'm tired of you constantly criticizing everything I do."

"I just want everything to be perfect," you defended. Your intentions were pure, though the situation had escalated. "It's necessary for the success of our investigation."

"Says Ms. Perfect President," she mocked, the sarcasm evident in her words. Her hostile tone got on your nerves, making you roll your eyes. "It has to be your way, doesn't it? You always get what you want, you’re such an entitled bitch."

"I'm exhausted too, you know—I have to double-check everything and fix mistakes that shouldn't even be there in the first place," you retorted, meeting her gaze as you got up from your chair, refusing to be intimidated by her height. "Sometimes, I regret that Professor Wentz made us work together."

"Really? Well then, let's fail this class. I'm exhausted with you always trying to act smart," she chuckled dryly at the end, and your jaw dropped. There was no way she was doing this to you—everything you had worked for flashed right before your eyes. You thought about your dad, your grades, the presidency—everything was going to hell if she went through with it.

You instinctively reached out, grasping her arm. "Wait, please!" Bada glanced into your teary eyes, seeing the genuine fear reflected in them, which made her wonder what was racing through your mind.

"What? You're making it seem like you need my help, Y/N," she said, taking a step back, but you held onto her arm. It made her shiver; this was the first time she had seen you display vulnerability in such a raw manner.

"I do, Bada—" you noticed Bada's widened eyes, but beneath them, a hint of what you could only interpret as lingering anger remained. Softly, you let go of her arm, redirecting your gaze to the floor, embarrassment washing over you at your display of vulnerability. In that brief moment of silence, you thought of how Bada would recount this encounter to her friends, what they would say about you, and the potential consequences of your actions.

"No, you don't. If you want to play the superior card, then deal with it. I'm done with your bullshit," she spoke firmly, her gaze directed downwards towards you. Inside, Bada felt conflicted—why did you need her when you seemed so capable? Despite this, she could not shake the guilt of abandoning you, especially when you were so far along in the investigation, and nearing the congress.

"I can't do this on my own. If I fail, everything I've worked for will crumble," you responded, your voice trembling. "It's overwhelming, and the pressure is too much. If I fail, I'll lose everything—my presidency, my reputation. I'll be nothing but a shame, Bada," you admitted, your gaze still fixed downwards, your tears falling silently onto your desk. "Please, please. I promise I won't criticize your mistakes anymore—just be patient with me."

Bada listened intently to your words—her eyes closed as she fought the urge to hug you, but she held back, refusing to give in. Instead, she sighed heavily, swallowing the lump that had formed in her throat. "You promise?" she asked, and you nodded in response. "Just imagine how I feel—I put in so much effort, only to have everything criticized by you. Imagine trying to make this investigation succeed while working with someone you can't stand."

"I’m sorry. I just wanted everything to go well," you began, meeting her gaze. "But, at the same time, try to understand where I'm coming from. You've insulted me repeatedly—calling me a cocksucker, a lapdog, a bitch. You shut down every attempt at communication that could help us work together more effectively. You always raise your voice at me—it's not just that you can't stand me, Bada. It feels like you hate me."

"What if I do hate you?" she questioned, uncertain. She nervously bit her lip, her head tilting slightly to the left as she awaited your response. "Huh?" she mumbled when you did not reply right away.

"I don't know," you admitted honestly, your uncertainty evident in your words. What exactly did she expect you to say? Under normal circumstances, you might not have cared, but given that she was your partner for Wentz's class, you could not help but feel concerned. "But, do you hate me?"

She remained quiet, perhaps unwilling to confirm her feelings, knowing that you both depended on each other for the investigation and the congress. Her gaze swept up and down, and then she took a step back before turning away to leave your office. Without hesitation, you followed behind her, torn between your rational mind urging you to let it go and your emotional necessity to resolve the matter. As you walked, the empty university halls seemed to amplify the quietness, prompting you to stop momentarily. Sensing your hesitation, the tall dancer turned back to look at you, closing her eyes briefly and shaking her head.

"Now you're following me," she remarked, walking up to you. "Are you always like this?"

"Huh? Like how?" you asked, puzzled by her words.

"So persistent—and stubborn," Bada stated, taking a deep breath. You glanced up at her, noticing details you had not before—like the subtle change in her hair color and the hint of mascara despite her usual lack of makeup. You realized you were still staring at her when she raised an eyebrow.

"Sometimes," you admitted, prompting a chuckle from her. You were not sure if the laugh was positive or negative, but seeing her smile even slightly relieved some of your tension. "I just... I know we sort of made an agreement already. But it doesn't seem to be working, so let me propose something."

"I'll be more patient if you stop insulting me," you said, your voice softer now. "And let's agree not to take any work home, any mistakes or doubts can be addressed here."

Bada nodded in agreement, standing up straight again. "Alright," she mumbled. "But if you keep controlling everything, I'll drop out of Wentz's class."

"And if you insult me again, I'll tell Wentz," you said, and she nodded. You felt calmer now that you were seemingly on the same page now. "Oh, Bada, by the way, we need to calculate the most common mistakes the students made so we can quantify our results."

Bada chuckled at your dedication. "We just had our little fight, and you're still focused and worried about the investigation."

You giggled in response. "I'm always worried," you confessed. "But I can handle it alone if need be."

"Nope, I'll help. I'm good at math," Bada offered, taking a step back. "And by the way, you might want to clean up your mascara."

"Huh?" you grabbed your phone from your back pocket and checked your reflection, noticing the mascara smudges under your eyes. "Oh my god," when you looked up, you noticed Bada already walking away towards her club, you returned to your office, feeling a sense of ease settle over you.

Chapter Text

Gayoung, Yeni, Haechi, and you were in your apartment, sipping on drinks and engaged in deep conversation. It was that time of the semester when existential questions dominated your mind—thoughts swirled around life choices, the viability of studying linguistics and translation, and the possibilities for the future in the field. 

"Speaking of university, how's it been working with Bada?" Haechi asked, turning her attention towards you. "With the congress around the corner and all."

"Well, surprisingly, it's been nice lately," you replied, sipping your strawberry-flavored hard seltzer. "She's been more cooperative, and we found some common ground. It's been fairly peaceful, to say the least."

Gayoung let out a chuckle. "So, no more showdowns in the student council office?" she teased, prompting laughter from everyone in the room. "I was getting ready for the fight."

"Not anymore," you giggled. "Bada's actually been quite reasonable. We might not be besties, but at least we're not at each other's throats. If things go well with the investigation and the congress, I might even help her gain more opportunities for her club."

Haechi reached over and placed her hand on your knee. "Maybe you could consider bringing her and Yeni onto the student council."

Yeni immediately shook her head. "Absolutely not! Count me the fuck out," she said, pointing a finger at each of you. "You guys are nerds—no offense, but I'd never survive with that requirement of GPA over 90."

"True, neither would Bada," Gayoung remarked with a laugh. "We might be nerds, but at least we're cool."

You chuckled softly. "Is Bada really that uninterested in school? I mean, she always meets the deadlines for Wentz's class," you stated, prompting Yeni to roll her eyes, seemingly recalling past incidents.

"She's not dumb—Bada's just incredibly lazy," Yeni said. "Her only motivation seems to be dancing. She started studying linguistics and translation because she enjoyed it, but by our fifth semester, she'd lost interest. However, since she could be the leader of the dance club, she stuck around."

Haechi listened intently, raising her eyebrows. "So, she's basically staying in our university just to dance? Why doesn't she study in a dance academy?" she said, lifting her hand from your knee so she could lean forward. 

"She's more interested in being a leader than a student," Yeni explained, taking a sip of her beer. "And she's pretty good at it, so she gets to call the shots."

"That explains some things," you mumbled, getting up from the sofa to grab another drink from the fridge—you handed Gayoung the glass bottle so she could help you open it. "So, her dislike for me might be because she wants to be everyone's leader."

"I don't understand your love for being in charge. I'm just the vice president, and sometimes it's too overwhelming," Gayoung added, taking a sip of your drink, frowning at the sweetness of it before passing it to you. "How can you even drink that? That's pure sugar."

Haechi chuckled, coming to your defense. "Well, Gayoung, you're hardly one to judge—you drink Dunkel beer."

"Thanks for having my back," you said to Haechi, as you settled back onto the sofa. "I enjoy being a leader because I like making a difference. Bada, on the other hand, seems to enjoy the power trip."

The girls left your apartment close to two in the morning. Initially, Gayoung intended to stay over, but Haechi's drunkenness and Yeni's tiredness changed her plans. Consequently, Gayoung assumed the role of designated driver, ensuring everyone made it home safely before texting you when she got home. As you reflected on the conversation about Bada, you could not help but wonder why she disliked you so much; from the start, she appeared defensive, and it seemed unlikely that it stemmed only from the incident where you called her club messy—there had to be more reasons behind her dislike towards you. It could not be related to the student council elections either, considering her GPA fell below the required to run for the presidency. Furthermore, you had never been her classmate before, and your only mutual acquaintance was Yeni. 

There had been instances in the past where people disliked you or the student council over events like the pep rally. Last semester, accusations of favoritism toward a specific team during the rally started some controversy, making people question the student council’s actions. However, you registered the points from every activity from the rally, providing evidence to prove them wrong. Interestingly, any grudges formed during such events tended to dissipate once they ended—even Yeni had expressed frustration with you over the rally, criticizing what she perceived as overly strict point systems for the games and events. Recalling that Bada was part of Yeni's team during the rally, their victory contradicted any resentment. The only instance where the student council confronted Bada during the pep rally was when Gayoung deducted points from her dance presentation because Bada, under stress, had lashed out at the dance team in front of everyone, resulting in the penalty.

Lost in thoughts, you failed to hear your phone ringing, the familiar ringtone resonating in your dimly lit room as you lay on your bed. Snapping out of it, you grabbed your phone from your nightstand, surprised to find Bada's contact illuminating the screen. Puzzled by the combination of the late hour and the fact there were no deadlines for the investigation, you answered, unsure of what prompted her call. 

"Hello?" you murmured, your voice groggy as you were sleepy. "What's up?"

"I didn't expect you to pick up. It's pretty late," Bada responded, clearing her throat, her tone husky. "I'm sorry for calling so late."

"Don't worry," you assured her. Your head feels fuzzy, still under the effects of the alcohol. "What's going on?" you struggled to sit up in bed, as your movements were slow.

"Are you drunk?" Bada asked, her perceptiveness catching you off guard. "I'm calling because there's something I need to tell you. I figured it would be easier to do it over the phone, and I kind of hoped you wouldn't answer."

"I'm not drunk, just a little tipsy," you clarified, the seriousness of the situation slowly sinking in—why was she calling you at this hour? And why did she hope you would not have answered? "Go ahead, I'm listening."

"I never would have guessed that Ms. President likes to drink," she chuckled, and you could hear the subtle movements on her end, perhaps pacing around her room. "Well, I was wondering if, on Monday, you'd like to be present for the dance club auditions—so you won't tell me I'm fucking lazy or something."

You giggled, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. "Yeah? So I won't accuse you of being a corrupt leader or something?" you replied, and Bada laughed softly, almost as if she did not want you to hear. "Just tell me the time, and I'll be there."

"After Wentz's class," Bada replied. "I'll see you there," she said, and then the line went silent. Maybe this was the right step to get closer to the dancer.

Chapter Text

At last, Monday arrived. You sat on your desk, and soon after, Bada pulled her chair close to yours, just as she had done in previous classes. You took out your phone to check your makeup in the camera, as you had not had enough time to do so in the morning—Gayoung had been waiting outside your place by the time you finished getting ready.

"It looks good," Bada murmured, taking a sip of her iced americano.

You glanced up from your phone, confused. "Huh?" you responded, turning your head toward her. "What do you mean?"

"Your makeup," she clarified, placing her coffee down on the desk. It felt strange hearing her say something nice to you, almost as if it were insincere. You recalled Haechi's remarks about Bada being two-faced, and it felt as though she could read your thoughts—because she continued. "I mean it—you're really good at doing your makeup. Redy always had to do mine when we had events, and she was still in the dance club. Now, I have to do it myself."

"Thank you. I find it peaceful—doing my makeup in the morning is really relaxing," you said, smiling as you grabbed your laptop from your backpack and placed it on your desk. "What happened to Redy? Did she drop out?"

"Yeah, a while back," Bada replied, reclining and leaning against the back of her chair, her hand resting on her thighs. "She dropped out. She had some problems with Professor Meritt. He was an asshole with her."

"Oh—I've heard of that, but I never knew it was Redy," you responded softly, opening your email while glancing at the taller girl. "Meritt always grades unfairly. That's why I never took any of his classes—even though I really love contrastive linguistics, I never took the class because he was the teacher."

"Fuck linguistics—I hate them," Bada said, rolling her eyes. You turned your body to face her, paying close attention to her body language. 

You formed an 'o' with your lips, intrigued by Bada's words. "Really, why is that?"

Bada met your gaze directly, her eyes telling you everything before you heard it out of her lips. "I used to have a genuine passion for linguistics. I applied to this university intending to pursue it," her long lashes fluttered slightly, drawing your attention. "But over time, the stress and pressure became overwhelming—it became too much. I lost sight of why I loved it in the first place, and I began hating the same things I once enjoyed—reading, writing, translating, and interpreting," she paused, taking a deep breath. "Dancing is my true passion. I'm only here because I can be the dance club leader—but I'm willing to get back on track."

You faked surprise, though you had already discussed this with the girls. Nonetheless, you appreciated Bada's willingness to share how she felt. "I wouldn't have guessed. You're doing such a good job with our investigation," you replied. "Perhaps pursuing dance in the future could be the best thing for you."

As the hour grew later and Professor Wentz did not arrive, Bada could not help but voice her frustration. "Where the fuck is our professor?" she said, rolling her eyes. "Any clues, Ms. President?"

You could not help but smile at the use of the nickname, finding a certain warmth this time "Nope, not a clue," you replied, placing your laptop back into your backpack. "I'll check with the administration office."

Following suit, Bada gathered her belongings, prompting you to raise your eyebrows. "What's up? I'm coming with you," she said, flashing a genuine smile that caught you off guard. "Unless I'm not invited?"

Giggling, you waited for her to finish packing up. "Of course, you can," you reassured her, leading the way out of the classroom towards the school's administrative offices. "Oh—never mind."

Her curiosity was piqued by your hesitation, prompting Bada to speak. "Come on, spill it. I'm all ears."

You asked the question that had been lingering in your mind. "So—what's your favorite artist to dance to?"

The familiar question made Bada chuckle, who answered as she held the door open for you to enter the office. "I don’t really have a favorite, but I enjoy dancing to Cardi B, especially her more sensual songs."

“I see—I wish I could see you dance!” approaching the reception desk, you greeted the secretary. "Good morning! We're wondering if Professor Wentz is coming in today. We have a class with him, but he's nowhere to be seen."

The secretary smiled. "He hasn't clocked in today. Let me check if there's been any messages from him," as she typed on her computer, you glanced over to see Bada on her phone. When she noticed your gaze, she looked up and raised her brows. After confirming Wentz's absence, the secretary spoke to you. "Looks like the professor won't be making it in today. Could you inform your group, Ms. Y/N?"

"Absolutely! Thank you for letting us know," with a smile, you turned back to Bada, who once again held the door open for you. As you left, you quickly sent a message to the class group chat. “So what now?” 

"Hmm?" Bada spoke softly. "Oh, I mean, we still have some time before the auditions, but we can hang out in my club."

You nodded in agreement, following Bada as she guided you to the dance club. Stepping into the familiar space, you could not help but notice how tidy and organized everything was—compared to before. A table with three chairs caught your eye, each bearing a small card indicating your, Bada's, and Yeni's names. The LED lights were on, glowing a pretty shade of blue, while the speakers played background music.

As you glanced at the mirrored wall, you could not ignore the height difference between you and Bada—a soft giggle escaped your lips as she approached. "You can place your backpack in my locker," Bada offered, pointing towards the row of lockers against the wall. "It's unlocked."

Following her instruction, you placed your bag inside the locker—as you turned around, you heard Bada change the song playing. "Are you going to dance?" you asked, making your way to the chair with your name on it. Running your finger over the cardstock, you teased. "I expected it to say 'Ms. President."

Bada chuckled, rolling her eyes playfully. "Nah, just your name. Everyone knows who you are," she reassured, stepping back to give you a clear view. "I'll show the choreography they need to perform. We sent them a video to learn from, so everyone will be dancing to the same song."

The familiar song by Kai from EXO filled the room—a sultry song that perfectly matched what Bada told you was her dance style. Mesmerized, you watched intently, absorbing every detail. For the first time, you noticed the emotion she poured into her movements, converting the song into her own—each step drew you in with an almost hypnotic allure. It was clear that dance was more than just a hobby for Bada—it was her essence. As she finished the routine, you clapped, and Bada approached, her face reflecting pure satisfaction—she placed her hands on the table, and she met your gaze with a sense of pride.

"You're too good at this," you remarked, smiling warmly. "It's clear why you're the leader of this club—I don't even know if someone could replicate your choreography."

Bada accepted the compliment. "Thank you. And you know, it's clear why you're the president too," she replied, tilting her head slightly. "I wouldn't have even thought to ask about Wentz's absence. You're too responsible, and that's something I didn't quite appreciate before."

"Exactly," you agreed, feeling a sense of understanding between you two. "When we set aside our disagreements, we can work together perfectly."

"Yeah, definitely. I think I enjoy working with you," Bada said, her expression softening—and you felt satisfaction. Looking at her watch, she noticed the time. "Ah, it's almost time for the auditions."

"Let's see what people bring us—I'm glad to be here," you replied, sharing her excitement. Bada smiled, sitting beside you as you both awaited the upcoming auditions—enjoying the newfound friendship between you.

Chapter Text

After the auditions, Gayoung dropped you off at home before heading out to help Haechi with something. With no deadline for Wentz's class, you decided to do the homework from your other courses. After a quick lunch, you settled at your desk, turned on your laptop, and began sorting through your homework, starting with the easiest one—you simply had to read and answer some questions about an article. 

"Alexa, play my playlist," you instructed, and the device promptly began playing your favorite songs. As you read the article, you found yourself humming along. "It's a strange way of saying that I'm supposed to love you—" you sang along, realizing your distraction—you shook your head and refocused on the text.

Deep in concentration, the sound of a notification broke your focus. Expecting it to be Gayoung, you were taken aback by the message that flashed on your screen. Acting quickly, you took a screenshot, fearing the message might be deleted. 

bada: little ms. president is trying soooo hard to be my friend LOL, i only invited her to the club because i didn’t want her to snitch again. i’m actually not even trying, she’s just so fucking stupid and she believes everything i say. plus, i still can’t believe i have to share a ROOM with her on the days of the congress, idk how i’m going to survive that smh 🙃 [3:41 p.m] 

y/n: yeah, really?

y/n: wtf bada

y/n: istg you’re doing this on purpose [3:43 p.m]

bada: FUCK

bada: nonono

bada: nonono wait

bada: i didn’t mean it, y/n

bada: hey, just let me speak to you

bada: let me explain, please [3:34 p.m]

y/n: wtf you’re going to explain, huh?

y/n: how i am so stupid? so annoying?

y/n: i can’t believe it

y/n: well, i’m not lying like you. i can believe it. that’s the worst part. [3:45 p.m]

bada: just let me explain it please

bada: i’m so fucking stupid, i’m sorry y/n

bada: let me speak to you

bada: it was an accident i swear [3:45 p.m] 

y/n: what are you even going to explain lol

y/n: bada, don’t text me anymore. we’ll do everything for the investigation in wentz’s class. i don’t want to speak to you outside of that classroom.

y/n: can’t believe i’m that fucking stupid. goodbye. [3:46 p.m]

You slammed your phone down on the desk in frustration, feeling a wave of emotions crashing over you. Closing your eyes, you rested your head on the desk's surface and took a deep breath—the reality of the situation hit you hard, and you could not help but feel like a fool. All day, you had been with Bada—everything seemed to be going well, and you felt happy. Now, hearing Bada's cynical words about not trying hard enough, made you question your judgment and feel stupid for believing her.

You felt warm tears running down your cheeks, and a wave of tiredness hit over you as you still laid your head down—your Alexa still playing music in the background. “Alexa, please pause the music,” you barely whispered hoping the device would hear you, as the music stopped, you took a deep breath, you were too sad. 

On the other side, Bada was panicking. She slammed her hand onto her bed in frustration, cursing under her breath. The text was not for you, it was for her friends in an attempt to appear composed and in control despite her true feelings about you. Running her hands through her long hair, she tugged at it anxiously, realizing the gravity of her mistake. She knew that her words had likely shattered any remaining trust you had in her, and she felt a need to clarify the situation. However, texting or calling you seemed useless, as she anticipated that you would not respond, and waiting until tomorrow felt like too long to wait to try to fix the situation. 

Frantically, Bada reached for her phone, her hand trembling as she dialed Yeni's number. "Come on, pick up the fucking phone, Yeni Cho," she muttered anxiously. As soon as Yeni answered, Bada wasted no time. "Yeni, where does Y/N live? I don't need to explain anything, just tell me where she lives—please."

Yeni sensed the urgency in Bada's voice and grew concerned. "What happened to her? If something's wrong, you need to tell Gayoung—you can't tell her parents," when Bada remained silent, Yeni's worry intensified. "I'll talk to Gayou—"

"No, Yeni," Bada interrupted, halting Yeni's attempt to contact Gayoung. "I—I messed up. I need to make things right. Y/N's okay, it's just something I did, and I need to apologize."

Sighing with understanding, Yeni reluctantly agreed to help. "Ah, Bada. I'll help you, but please don't hurt her again. I'm not sure what you did, but she's sensitive," Bada heard a notification sound on her phone. "I've sent you her address. Her apartment is in the new white building near the school."

"Fuck—I owe you my life," Bada ended the call. She got up from her bed and grabbed her car keys. Rushing out of her apartment, she went down the stairs so quickly that she felt unsteady on her feet. Making her way to the parking lot, she got into her car, definitely going over the speed limit, as she sped off.

You remained seated at your desk, your eyes swollen from crying. Your phone, face down, continued to buzz with notifications, which you recognized as alerts from your doorbell camera. Yet, you were not expecting any visitors—perhaps it was Gayoung, who sometimes showed up without telling you. Although she had a key, she reserved it for "emergencies only." Rising from your desk, you made your way to the living room, the doorbell's persistent ring urging you on as you opened your door. 

"Gayoung, have some patience for once—" you began, but stopped mid-sentence at the sight of Bada's familiar, towering figure. Frowning, you looked up. "What the fuck are you doing here? And who gave you my address?"

“That doesn’t matter. I need to speak to you,” Bada wedged her foot between the door and frame, preventing you from closing the door. Leaning down, her hand resting on the frame, she met your gaze, her heart sinking at the sight of your puffy and teary eyes. "I'm sorry, Y/N. I truly didn't mean what I said."

Tears streamed down your face as you confronted Bada. "What do you want to speak about? How I’m such an annoying bitch?" you said, your emotions raw. "Huh, Bada? You’re so high and mighty, and now you’re here trying to apologize about the shit you say to me—don’t think I don’t know about the stuff you say about me in your group chats, Bada. Everything gets leaked."

Bada sighed heavily, realizing there was no hiding the truth anymore. "I messed up, Y/N," she admitted. "At first, I couldn't stand you. It was my worst nightmare working with you. But now, I genuinely enjoy talking to you and working with you. My ego just won't let me admit it."

"You only think about yourself," you spoke, wiping away your tears with frustration. "Your ego doesn’t let you accept that you actually want to be my friend."

As Bada reached out to comfort you, you recoiled, rejecting her attempt. "I’m sorry—" she began, but you cut her off.

"No, Bada," you interrupted, your voice trembling with emotion. "Honestly, I don’t even care that I'm the president now, I'll say it, fuck you, Bada Lee. Fuck you, I don’t know why I even trusted you."

Bada's shoulders drooped in defeat, her frustration evident. "Fine," she mumbled, taking a step back as you closed the door almost in her face. "Fuck you too, Y/N," she muttered as she turned away—hoping that you would not hear it through the closed door.

Chapter Text

Gayoung knew you too well; she sensed something was wrong—and the moment you said 'it was nothing,' she knew it had something to do with Bada. In the student council office, she enveloped you in a comforting hug. Today, out of all days, was the worst for tears, with the responsibility of presenting the results of last semester's student satisfaction ratings for professors in the university's main hall.

“Hey, look at me,” Gayoung urged, her hand soothingly patting your back. Meeting her gaze, you felt the weight of tiredness in your red, tear-stained eyes. “I can imagine what's going on, but you need to pull yourself together so we can head to the main hall. It's getting late.”

With a deep breath, you separated yourself from Gayoung, determined to regain your composure. “Let’s go,” you murmured, wiping away your tears and adjusting your formal clothes one last time. “Let’s get this over with.”

As you made your way to the main hall, the sound of your boots echoed against the floor, a constant rhythm matching the beat of your heart. It was not the responsibility of hosting the event that filled you with anxiety, but the coming possibility of encountering Bada in the crowd. The thought of facing her in your current emotional state made your stomach churn. Approaching the entrance of the main hall, you caught sight of Bada outside, making you quicken your steps. Sensing your nervousness, Gayoung reached for your hand, giving it a slight squeeze—you turned to her, smiling before walking towards the front of the main hall.

"You've got this," Gayoung whispered, helping you as you set up the computer to project the results of the ratings. "Where are the microphones? Or are we just going to scream the results?"

Her joke prompted a chuckle from you, grateful for the momentary relief it offered. "I don't fu—" you caught yourself mid-word, Gayoung's widened eyes reminding you of the need to be professional in front of the audience. "I don't know, Ms. Vice President. Let me check."

Making your way to the back of the room, you searched for the microphones, spotting the box tucked away in the corner. As you bent down to grab them, your movements suddenly stopped as your back slammed against someone. "I'm so—" you began, only to meet Bada's gaze. "I'm sorry." You managed to get out, feeling a lump form in your throat as you avoided her eyes, quickly grabbing the box of microphones and hurrying to the front, not giving her a chance to respond.

Placing the box on the desk beside the computer, you began testing the microphones, handing one to Gayoung and keeping one for yourself. With a firm tap on the microphone, you capture everyone's attention, addressing the room as they sit on their seats—even Bada, though in the back. "Hello, good morning—I'm Y/N, the student council president."

"And I'm Gayoung, your vice president," Gayoung added firmly, standing beside you. "Today, we're here to present the results of last semester's student satisfaction ratings for professors."

"It's a crucial process that provides valuable insights into their teaching methods and performance," you continued, smiling to the audience. "So, without further ado, let's get started!"

The event flowed smoothly, with attendees engaging by taking notes and asking questions about the top-rated professors for each class. Through it, you found yourself fully immersed in the task, momentarily forgetting about Bada's presence. As the event finished, you and Gayoung excused yourselves, with Gayoung needing to attend a class and you having paperwork to address for the administration. Together, you tidied up the microphones and switched off the projector before leaving from the main hall. 

Slowly walking towards your office, you checked your phone for any urgent texts, feeling satisfied with the successful event. As you reached for the door to your office, your eyes still glued to your phone, a firm hand suddenly grabbed your shoulder, causing you to turn around. Before you could react, Bada quickly guided you inside, firmly shutting the door behind her and locking it—leaning against the closed door, she fixed her gaze on you.

"Why won't you let me talk to you?" she said, almost pleading.

You sighed, feeling a surge of frustration at her question. Bada seemed all too aware of the answer, which only made you more irritated. "Why should I, huh? You've been incredibly mean to me without any explanation," you retorted, leaning against your desk and facing her squarely. "Yesterday, when I told you fuck you, I meant it. And I'll say it again—"

Bada closed the distance between you, cutting off your sentence by placing her hands on your shoulders. "Let me talk to you, fuck it. I'm sorry, okay?" her tone softened. "Yes, I've treated you horribly, and I know you're making an effort so we can work together. I genuinely enjoy our conversations now, or else I wouldn't be here, right?"

You could not help but chuckle, feeling a mixture of nerves and skepticism—you licked your lips. Perhaps she was telling the truth this time—why would she apologize in such a private setting if she did not mean it? "You're sorry? How sorry exactly?"

"I'm so sorry," Bada murmured, her gaze locked with yours. "I couldn't bring myself to believe that I didn't actually hate you. You're kind, and I know you won't believe me, but let me prove it to you."

Your hand instinctively found its place atop hers, acknowledging her words. "Alright," you replied softly. "I'll keep that in mind. But, for now, I need some space. I can't work with you under this pressure."

Confusion flickered across Bada's face. "What do you mean?" she asked, her hands shifting so hers rested on top of yours, the contact sending a shiver down your spine. 

Feeling the weight of her nervousness, you took a deep breath. "I need time to process everything," you explained. "If you genuinely want to fix things, you'll have to show me through your actions, not just your words."

"I understand." Bada began, but her words were interrupted by the sound of keys jingling on the other side of the door.

Quickly pulling away from each other, both of you straightened up, your cheeks blushing a deep pink. As the door swung open, revealing Haechi on the other side, Bada could not help but laugh softly. "Oops, sorry," she said, a hint of mischief in her tone. "Didn't mean to interrupt your... conversation. I didn't know you two were fucking out here."

Chapter Text

Bada's frustration reached its peak as the congress drew nearer. Despite your reluctance to work with her, she still wrote her parts of the investigation, keeping pace with the progress you made. 

In the solitude of her room, illuminated only by the blue light glow of her laptop screen, she sat at her desk well past midnight on a Friday. As she delved into writing in the shared document for the investigation, where she noticed you typing and your cursor moving. A furrow formed between her brows as she wondered why you were awake at such a late hour. Trying to push aside the uneasy feelings within her, Bada tried focusing solely on writing. However, the fact that you both resorted to working separately instead of cooperating in Wentz's class lingered in her mind, serving as a painful reminder of the situation between you—though admitting fault was not her thing, Bada was unable to deny her wrongdoings. 

"Agh—not again," Bada muttered under her breath, frustrated by the constant distraction caused by your typing, as every time you added something to the document, it moved. Determined, she reached for her phone, intending to call you—despite knowing you might not pick up, she could not shake the urge to do it. 

Taking a deep breath, she closed her eyes momentarily, questioning her actions. You wanted space, yet here she was, contemplating calling you. But deep down, Bada knew it was not just about the document; she wanted to hear your voice. With a hesitant touch, she pressed the call button, the ringing echoing as she anticipated the call going straight to voicemail. 

"Hello," your voice came through the line—your voice laced with confusion at the unexpected call. "Hi?" you repeated, pulling Bada from her thoughts.

Opening her eyes, Bada held the phone to her ear. "Um, hi. I just wanted to let you know that every time you type, it moves the entire document," she explained, still fixated on your cursor in the investigation. "And I need to finish up my part."

"Ah, sorry about that, Bada," you responded, your typing audible in the background of the call. "I'll finish this and let you focus," the moment you finished your sentence, you yawned—you had been awake since five in the morning, but you still wanted to finish this one part. 

"Y/N, I can handle it. Just go get some rest," Bada spoke, setting her phone on speaker and placing it on her desk. Leaning back in her chair, she adjusted her glasses and glanced at the document on her screen. "I'm not tired, but you seem exhausted."

"It's fine," you insisted though the fatigue in your voice betrayed your words. Each sentence you typed felt like a struggle, your eyelids heavy with exhaustion. "I'm not—" a yawn interrupted your protest. "I'm not that tired."

"Don't lie to me," Bada stated, her words sending a shiver down your spine. "Your voice says otherwise. You're exhausted, Y/N. Let me take care of it."

"Agh," your eyes drooped further, your head leaning against your hand as you tried not to fall asleep. "I said it's fine, Bada," you opposed weakly, now typing with just one hand.

Bada watched as you typed, a chuckle escaping her lips as she noticed the words you wrote becoming nonsensical. With a sigh, she began correcting your errors, her tone softening. "Just let me fucking help," she murmured, regretting her choice of words. "You're tired—go to bed."

"No, just let me finish this," you muttered, struggling to keep your eyes open. But the effort was useless; exhaustion was winning the battle. "I just need to finish this..."

"Stubborn as ever," Bada chuckled, recalling your earlier conversation about you being relentless. "Why won't you let me finish it? Don't you trust me with the investigation?"

"I can't really answer that," you admitted, shutting your laptop with a sigh. Fatigue took control of your mind, your thoughts consumed by the appeal of your bed and the frustrating reality of being on a call with Bada. "I just... prefer to handle my parts of the investigation myself. I'm going to bed."

"So, you don't trust my academic abilities?" Bada retorted sharply, her bitterness evident in her tone. "Just because I said I don't like school doesn't mean I'm an idiot."

"Oh my god, I never said that," you opposed, sinking on the edge of your bed. While she had a point, you could not admit it. "Stop twisting my words, Bada."

"I know, I'm sorry. I'm just... frustrated," Bada apologized, her words falling flat in the tired silence. "Y/N, I was thinking about how we’re going to present our conference for the investigation at the congress. Remember, we're a team, and we need to practice together."

You let out a whine, sinking further into your bed. For once, you felt like you were being unfair to her, but she had given you plenty of reasons to feel this way. "Bada, I'm too tired to deal with this right now. I just want to sleep. We'll talk about it later."

Glancing at the clock, Bada saw it was 3:31 in the morning on a school night. Your words caused her to frown—she could not tell if it was your exhaustion or if you truly began to resent her as well. "Yeah, go to bed. You need to rest," she murmured softly. "It doesn't matter. We'll discuss it later in the week."

"Goodnight, I guess," you murmured awkwardly, your voice barely audible now. 

"Goodnight, sweet—" she stopped herself mid-sentence, abruptly ending the call. She shook her head, feeling a wave of embarrassment wash over her.

Meanwhile, on your end, you were left wondering why Bada had not finished her sentence. Maybe wishing you sweet dreams was just a friendly gesture, but given the circumstances, perhaps she withheld from saying it because she hated you. Closing your eyes, you finally succumbed to sleep, unaware of the turmoil in Bada's mind.

In the quiet of the night, Bada found herself questioning her emotions. The weight of her actions and the dynamic between you lingered heavily on her mind, leaving her uneasy and restless. Despite her attempts to justify her actions, she could not escape the sense of guilt that haunted her. As the night wore on, Bada tossed and turned, unable to find solace in sleep—with questions and doubts plagued her mind. What if she had handled things differently? What if she had been more understanding, more patient? What if she had swallowed her pride?

Chapter Text

Today, you found yourself at school simply to avoid the loneliness of home—it was one of those days when being alone with your thoughts felt unbearable. Despite your classes being canceled, you made your way to the office. As you reached for your keys, the sight of the door already open caught you off guard—Haechi must be inside, considering Gayoung had just dropped you off before heading to Elodie’s class. Stepping inside, you kept your gaze low, barely noticing the tall figure draped in a hoodie, head resting against the wooden surface.

"Hey, Haechi," you called out softly, setting your laptop down with a soft thud. As you glanced up, however, you were surprised to see Bada now seated upright in the chair across from your desk. "Who let you in?" you questioned, pointing at her. 

"Does it matter?" Bada's tone was laced with irritation as she crossed her arms, her gaze piercing. "I don’t want to play your games, okay?" she pointed her finger towards you, her expression bordering on disgust, making you uneasy. 

"What game?" you could not hide your confusion as you mumbled out your words. "I'm not playing games with you—what's going on?" as you settled into your seat, you could not help but feel intimidated by Bada's intense stare. Her expressions were always so intense—as sometimes her eyes sparkled with enthusiasm, but now they were dark and unsettling.

"Stop playing dumb," she muttered, rolling her eyes. "Everything was fine until you asked for space, and now look where we are. What's your deal?"

"My deal? What's yours?" you opposed, feeling justified in asking for space given Bada's previous behavior. "I asked for space because I needed it—you practically begged for it. I'm not the one who called you stupid and naive, right?"

"I'm just so done with you—you make me angry," Bada confessed, locking eyes with you. "The congress is in a week, and we can't stand each other. How are we supposed to present the investigation if you won't even talk to me?"

"Yeah, and why do you think I stopped talking to you?" you retorted, feeling the frustration bubbling inside you. You turned your chair around, grabbing the stack of papers you had to sign from your desk, deciding to focus on something productive while dealing with Bada. "We have to present our investigation, and yes, we'll practice our speech, but not today or tomorrow."

"It's always my fault, isn't it? Even though I apologized." Bada spoke, letting out a soft groan. "And why won't you even look at me when I'm talking to you?"

Bada rose from her seat, stepping into the narrow gap between your desk and chair, leaning against the wooden surface. As she towered over you, her hand reached out to grasp the top of your chair, turning it around to face her. The sudden closeness sent a surge of nervousness through you, causing you to meet her eager gaze. You swallowed hard, unable to look away as she looked at you—her presence felt almost suffocating. You took in the subtle details of her appearance—the way her hair fell, the casual tuck of her shirt into her baggy jeans, and her glossy lips. Bada's knuckles tightened, almost turning white as she clutched the back of your chair, restraining herself from acting on her urges. Her frustration was noticeable, apparent in the tense silence between you. Neither of you spoke—while you nervously fidgeted with your hands and licked your lips, Bada appeared surprisingly composed, simply fixing her hair.

After what felt like an eternity, Bada broke the silence. "Why are you nervous?"

"You make me nervous," you blurted out, immediately regretting the choice of words as they left your mouth. "I mean... not like that! Your presence makes me anxious because I'm always expecting conflict when you're around."

Bada chuckled softly at your response. "Sometimes I just want to talk, not fight, but you just frustrate me," she admitted, releasing her grip on your chair and casually perching herself on your desk.

Instinctively, you pushed yourself back, pressing against the wall to keep some distance from Bada. You were intrigued by her saying she sometimes wanted to talk to you—as it contradicted her actions, besides the other day. "Like the other day when you called me at midnight?"

Bada arched her eyebrows, clearly caught off guard by your questioning her actions from the other day. "Well, you were moving the whole document every time I tried to type," she explained, her hands now resting on her thighs. "And you were ignoring me."

"I was tired that day. It wasn't a good day for me either," you said, your voice lower. "I wasn't intentionally ignoring you—I simply told you we could discuss it later in the week, and here we are."

"Even the respected and honorable Ms. President has bad days, huh?" Bada chuckled, a hint of disbelief in her tone. "Who would've guessed?"

Rolling your eyes, you felt your anxiety intensify. Today was not going well, and dealing with Bada only made it worse. Pressure from the upcoming congress weighed heavily on you, and you could not shake the nervousness about sharing a room with Bada. You were prone to overthinking everything, however, you struggled to decipher her true feelings—whether she still held hatred towards you or was simply trying to provoke a reaction.

Fighting back tears, you bit your lip forcefully, determined not to let Bada see you cry. "Sorry—"

Noticing the glossiness in your eyes, Bada's demeanor softened. She reached out, gently placing a hand on your shoulder, her fingers delicately gripping the lace of your blouse. "It's just one of those tough days, isn't it? And here I am, only making it worse for you—fuck."

You nodded, taking a deep breath. “Yup, it’s one of those days,” you confirmed, and Bada smiled softly. “Yeah—I’m just not feeling well today.” 

"I'll leave you alone," Bada said as she got off your desk. You felt the urge to ask her to stay, but you also wanted to make things difficult for her. "Go home and rest. We'll talk about the congress other day," she said as she walked towards the office door.

As she was about to leave, you called out. "Bada!" she turned to look at you, tilting her head. "Let's practice on Wednesday, and we can buy our formal outfits together so they match."

"Noted—see you on Wednesday," Bada responded before leaving your office.

You closed your eyes, your hands going to where Bada's had been on your shoulders, still feeling the warmth there. She had left you feeling confused—she made you confused. Her combination of kindness and cynicism only added to your emotional turmoil. You wanted to get to know her so badly, but she kept pushing you away while simultaneously pulling you in—she apologized and tried to be friendly. You needed answers, and perhaps being close to her in the congress would provide the clarity you were desperately seeking.

Chapter Text

You wanted to get home, not being able to wait for Gayoung to get out of class as you felt too tired and just craved the comfort of your bed—you wanted to take the longest nap you could. You were walking home—sometimes you needed the comfort of a walk. You pushed your headphones down to your neck as you heard a car slowly approach you—as you peeked around, you noticed the blue sports car driven by Bada. 

She rolled down the window and spoke. “Are you going home?” You nodded but hesitated as you heard her unlock the car’s doors. “Hop in—I’ll drive you home. I promise to shut up, I swear,” Bada chuckled.

You reached for the door, placing your backpack on the floor of her car. Sitting in the passenger’s seat, you spoke softly. “Thank you—you didn’t have to. Didn’t you have another class?”

“Nope, it got canceled. All the professors are canceling classes—they’re also stressed for the congress,” Bada said, and you closed the door. “How are you feeling? Any better?” 

“Didn’t get better, that’s why I’m going home—I didn’t want to wait for Gayoung, she has all her classes today,” you said, placing your head on the window, and looking at the familiar route. “Thank you for asking,” Bada only nodded, and you two stayed in silence—it did not feel awkward, it was just a soft silence. You noticed that Bada kept going straight instead of taking the U-turn to the road of your home, you turned to her. “Bada, where are we going?” 

“I’ll take you for a coffee. That cheers me up when I have bad days,” she responded, her voice warm. You smiled at her, unbelieving that this was the same Bada—maybe, she was just making an exception because you felt bad, but this side of Bada was nice. “What cheers you up?”

"I find comfort in reading, writing and spending time with my friends, though being alone has its appeal too," you admitted, exhaling deeply. "The stress is just overwhelming right now, you know? I want everything to go well, and I want to make my parents proud."

Opening up to Bada felt strangely comforting, even if it was just a small moment of vulnerability. As she paused at a red light, her gaze shifted to you, and you caught a glimpse of something in her eyes—a softness you had not noticed before. It made her seem almost approachable.

"That's understandable," she murmured as the light turned green, guiding the car into the coffee shop parking lot. "Drive-thru?" she suggested, and you nodded in agreement. As she pulled up to the menu, she glanced at you. "What do you want?"

"I'll have a small iced caramel macchiato, please. I like my coffee sweet," you replied, watching Bada place the order. 

When it came time to pay, you reached for your wallet, but Bada stopped you. "No, it's on me, alright?" she said, forestalling any protests. You simply thanked her, accepting her gesture. "It's my treat." 

As Bada handed you your coffee, you took a sip, enjoying its sweetness. "It's yummy," you remarked, taking another sip. Bada chuckled softly, and you glanced at her curiously. "What's funny?" you asked.

"It's just... cute," she replied, her voice trailing off slightly as if uncertain of the word choice. She steered the car out of the drive-thru, now heading towards your apartment.

"Oh, but it’s yummy," you murmured, smiling. "Bada, can I ask you something?"

"Tell me," she responded, her hand on the steering wheel and the other holding her coffee. “I’m listening.” 

"Are you only being nice because I mentioned feeling unwell?" you asked, meeting her gaze. "You can be honest, Bada."

"Didn't I mention wanting to prove myself to you?" she replied, setting her coffee in the cup holder and pausing the music on the car screen. "Sometimes I lack patience, but that doesn't mean I hate you. I just need to think before I speak. I don't want things to be uncomfortable during the investigation and the congress, so I'm making an effort."

"So, once the congress is over, will you go back to how you were with me?" you inquired, resting your head against the window and taking a sip of your coffee. "Or we will never speak again?"

"I'm not sure," she admitted. "Would you want to continue speaking? Let's see how the congress goes. Maybe we'll end up becoming friends."

"You think?" you asked, glancing at your apartment building as Bada drove into the parking lot.

Bada chuckled. "Anything's possible, but for now, you need your space," she parked the car, and you opened the door.

"Thanks, Bada," you said with a smile, your eyes warm. "For the ride home and understanding."

Stepping out, you grabbed your backpack and closed the door. Bada rolled down the window, returning your smile. "See you on Wednesday."

As Bada watched you disappear into the building, she leaned her head on the steering wheel, exhaling deeply. She pressed her hands against her thighs, trying to ease the overwhelming anxiety she felt. The sight of your kind smile and delicate eyes stirred conflicting emotions within her—it frustrated her to realize how much she yearned to be closer to you. She was angry at herself for wanting more of you, for eagerly anticipating Wednesday and, more so, the upcoming congress. It contrasted her previous disgust for sharing a room with you. Now, the thought of spending an entire day together filled her with worry—she feared making a mistake—of disappointing you once again.

Bada knew she disliked you—and she knew why. But now, she failed to understand the complex mix of emotions you provoked her. She resented the vulnerability you produced within her, the way you made her question herself and her intentions. However, despite that, she could not deny the curiosity she felt—almost like a pull she could not easily ignore. Bada could not continue to avoid the truth—she cared about you more than she wanted to admit.

Chapter Text

Wednesday arrived, bringing with it an unexpected sense of calmness—despite the upcoming presentation at the congress and hanging out with Bada, you felt unusually composed. You and Bada had spent the afternoon hopping between stores in the mall—as you were looking for the perfect clothes for the occasion. While you had not been particularly chatty, Bada surprised you with her helpfulness and willingness to consider your opinions. Now, inside the changing room, you slipped into a new outfit—a black pleated skirt paired with a white blouse and a black and white tweed blazer. Analyzing your reflection in the mirror, you felt relief as the combination seemed to click. Stepping out, you found Bada dressed in a matching outfit, albeit with pants instead of a skirt.

“How does it look?” you inquired, examining your reflection. “Do you think it's better than the other options?”

Bada nodded in approval. “It looks good—you look good,” she affirmed, standing beside you. Her gaze momentarily drifted past your reflection, a small gesture you could not help but notice. “That blazer suits you.”

Her attempt at kindness made you smile. “Thank you—and you look great too,” you complimented, meeting her eyes. “I think this is the one. What do you think?”

“Yeah, I really like this outfit,” Bada agreed, disappearing into her changing room. “Let’s buy these,” she said through the closed door. You slipped out of the outfit and changed back into your clothes, carefully hanging the pieces on their hangers. Stepping out, you waited for Bada to appear, though the moment she left the changing room, you began walking towards the counter—she stopped you in your tracks. "Wait," she said, and you paused, looking at her through your peripheral. "You forgot to button up your skirt," with her free hand, she fastened the button of your skirt, causing a slight flutter in your stomach from her proximity.

As Bada smoothed down your skirt, ensuring it was fixed, as a response—you smiled. "Thank you," you murmured, your voice lower than normal. 

Going to the counter to pay, your mind lingered on the simple gesture of Bada fixing your skirt—even though her hand was no longer there, you could still feel its imprint. Hiding a smile, you finished the transaction, tapping your phone to the card reader and gathering your bag and receipt. 

Noticing that Bada had already paid, you approached her, but she quickly took the bag from your hand, insisting on carrying it for you. "Wow, why the sudden kindness?" you joked, gazing up at her. "I feel like I'm being set up for something. Everything's been going too smoothly—I half-expect you to call me a bitch any second now."

Bada chuckled, shaking her head, and clicking her tongue. "Nah, none of that," she assured you, leading the way out of the store. "I said I'd work hard for your forgiveness, and I intend to keep that promise."

"Fair enough," you replied, scanning the nearby shops until your eyes landed on a boba tea shop. "How about we celebrate with some boba?"

"We can grab it to go and rehearse our presentation," Bada suggested, leading the way as you followed closely behind—sensing your steps, she slowed her pace, aligning herself beside you. "Are you nervous? The congress is only five days away now—Monday's approaching fast."

You glanced at her, briefly closing your eyes. "A little bit. But I'm feeling calmer now that you're actually tolerating me," you admitted as you entered the shop. "And you? Are you still angry about sharing a room with me?" you teased, prompting an eye roll from Bada as she looked down at you.

"You're not letting that go, are you?" she chuckled. "No, it makes me nervous, though," Bada confessed, her words slipping out before she could filter them. Quickly changing the subject, she asked. "What flavor do you want?"

"Taro, please," You replied. "Nervous?" you inquired, catching Bada off guard—and she swallowed hard. "Well, sharing rooms makes me nervous, too. I'm used to being alone." 

After ordering, you paid. "Thanks," Bada said while you grabbed the to-go bag. "Yeah, sharing a room makes me nervous, too. I'm used to sleeping alone." She added, lying through her teeth. 

As you exited the mall, Bada led the way to her car, opening the doors and leaving the bags in the trunk. You settled into the passenger's seat as you held onto the drinks. As Bada got in the car, she took a moment to glance at her phone, queuing some songs for the drive. With her arm resting on the back of your seat, Bada navigated the car out of the parking spot—with the proximity, you could not help but notice her features—how beautiful she looked, a blend of both prettiness and handsomeness. 

As she drove, she turned to you with a nosy question. "So, do you live alone, or is Gayoung your roommate?" Bada asked, her eyes fixed on the road ahead.

You placed both drinks on the cup holder—instead of holding them in the bag. "Alone. I moved out of my parent's house when I started university."

Bada raised an eyebrow, intrigued. "So you moved from another city for university?" she inquired, to which you shook your head. "Then why the change?"

You hesitated, unsure if you should reveal your reasons to Bada. She recalled the conversation with Yeni, where the older girl mentioned that if anything were to happen to you, she had to tell Gayoung instead of your parents—that made Bada realize there might be some issues with your family. "Sometimes it's just necessary," you replied, sidestepping the truth. "I felt like staying at home was holding me back."

Bada glanced at you briefly as she made a U-turn, pondering your words. "Who outgrows their home?" she murmured, her gaze returning to the road. "I left my parents' place too, but it was because I moved cities to be here."

"Well, I did," you chuckled, masking your emotions. "It's complicated. My parents are a bit old-fashioned."

Bada smiled softly, sensing your desire to open up—she was determined to prove herself trustworthy. "You can tell me anything—I'll listen," she promised. "I might not have all the answers, but I promise I'll hear you out. I know I've been shitty, but—"

"It's alright, you don't need to apologize again," you interjected softly. "I moved out because when I came out to my parents, they didn't fully accept me. They claimed they did but made it clear they weren't comfortable with certain aspects of my life," you explained, looking at Bada to see her reaction. "My mom has come around, but my dad... not so much. I still visit, and they help me financially, but living there just wouldn't feel right—I'd have to hide who I am."

"I understand why you moved out—hiding your true self, especially at home, is tough," Bada sympathized, driving into a parking spot in your apartment complex. "Coming out is already hard on its own, but facing rejection from your parents? It's an entire other level of difficulty for people like us."

You arched an eyebrow, though not entirely surprised by Bada's inclination towards girls. "Yeah, it really shouldn't be," you agreed. As Bada parked, you exited the car, grabbing the drinks while waiting by the trunk for Bada to retrieve your shopping bag. Together, you walked to your apartment, unlocking the door. "Now, let's rehearse!"

Throughout the evening, Bada and you delved deep into rehearsing the presentation, absorbing yourselves in refining every aspect. You explored various angles, experimenting with different approaches to explain the topic until you felt confident in your delivery. Amidst the intense focus, laughter echoed in your living room each time a mistake was made, developing a bond between you two as you solved the challenges together. As the hours passed and the night grew late, Bada decided to go home. Accompanying her to the door, you watched as she left your apartment building, a smile gracing your lips. Walking back inside, a sense of relief washed over you, knowing that the day went by perfectly—as you recognized the strength of your teamwork and that Bada was a totally different person now that she was actually trying. As you were about to step into the shower, a notification popped up from the group chat with Yeni, Gayoung, and Haechi, redirecting your attention and prompting you to reach for your phone.

yeni 🌟: [yeni has sent a photo] 

yeni 🌟: we’re making progress! [9:49 p.m]

haechi ✨️: wow

haechi ✨️: now i want you guys to marry or something [9:50 p.m]

You glanced at the screenshot Yeni had sent, showing a text where Bada mentioned how much she enjoyed spending time with you, noting your "pretty smile." A warmth spread through your cheeks, prompting a smile that you could not contain. Giggling to yourself, you were glad to know that Bada had also enjoyed herself.

y/n: guess i have a pretty smile :) [9:50 p.m]

gayoung 💜: now instead of snitching, we’re calling the group chat ‘wedding planners’

gayoung 💜: who would have guessed [9:51 p.m]

haechi ✨️: well… let’s see how sharing a room at a hotel goes for those two ;) [9:51 p.m]

y/n: HAECHI WANG

y/n: shut the fuck up [9:52 p.m]

Chapter Text

It was Monday, the day you were taking the school bus to the city for the congress. However, Bada had pleaded with you to accompany her, reluctant to make the drive alone—despite it being just a two-hour journey on the highway, she confessed to not being used to driving long paths alone. As Bada texted you saying she arrived, you hurriedly gathered your small luggage and purse, along with two cold green tea bottles and a bag of chips from your pantry—leaving your home and locking the door behind you.

Descending the stairs, you waved at Bada, who stood by her car, smiling as you placed your luggage in the trunk. "Hi, good morning," you say, letting out a yawn.

"Sleepy?" she chuckled, to which you nodded, prompting her to retrieve a blanket from the trunk. "Here, I'll get you settled for a nap," she said, prompting you to giggle.

You made your way to the passenger side, and Bada opened the door for you. As you sat inside, you left your purse and snacks on the car floor and the tea bottles in the cup holders. "Thanks, you're too kind," you murmured as she handed you the baby blue blanket. 

"You had your hands full," she replied, closing the door before circling to the driver's side and starting the car. "Before we leave, anything you forgot?"

After a moment's consideration, you assured that you had packed all the essentials: toothbrush, deodorant, perfume, makeup bag, and your formal clothes. "Nope, I'm all set!" you affirmed with a smile.

For a while, the ride was silent, with nothing but the sound of music and the hum of the road as Bada drove towards the city exit, ready to merge onto the highway. Breaking the silence, Bada spoke. "Did you ever expect this?" she asked, prompting you to respond with a confused 'huh? ' She clarified what she meant, her eyes fixated on the road. "That we would actually end up tolerating each other—I mean, I know you still want space, and you’re breaking that barrier for the congress—but, I feel like hanging out with you has been nice."

Internally, Bada's stomach was a tangled mess of nerves and anxiety as she struggled to articulate her words. She knew "nice" was an understatement for the time spent together—hanging out with you had been the highlight of her week. Your warm smiles, sparkling and soft eyes, and your genuine and nice demeanor overwhelmed her—it became too much and left her hesitant to admit her true feelings.

"I really enjoy spending time with you. Yeah, it's been nice," you confessed, looking at the tall dancer through your peripheral vision. "Despite what you said about us not speaking after the congress, I'd like us to be friends," you giggled, recalling her earlier remark about the possibility of friendship.

The word "friends" reverberated in Bada's mind, stirring a new mix of emotions. Taking a deep breath, she replied. "Me too—I'd like to be friends," Bada said, her tone hesitant, hinting that she wanted to say more than she did. 

Keen to Bada's demeanor, you sensed there was more she wanted to say, but you chose not to be intrusive. Instead, you shifted the conversation, curiously asking a question. "Who would have thought? I never had strong personal feelings about you—just about your club. But you seemed to have some kind of resentment towards me—care to share why?"

You watched Bada's raised eyebrows and heard her chuckle dryly. The dancer avoided saying the real reason for her past dislike towards you. "It was a combination of what you said about my club, and, well, a bit of envy," she confessed, reaching out to change the song on the screen. 

"A bit of envy?" you repeated, surprised. "Why?"

"You're incredibly smart, and genuinely enjoy your major—unlike me," she admitted, masking her true feelings. Bada glanced at you and saw you yawn again—quickly taking the opportunity to divert the conversation. "Take a nap. I'll wake you when we get to the city."

"Mhm..." you murmured sleepily, stretching out and draping the blanket over yourself. Settling against the window, you closed your eyes. "Please wake me before we arrive. I want to see the countryside."

"Of course," Bada replied softly, adjusting the music volume and switching on the AC to make you comfortable. "I hope you rest well."

"Thank you, Bada," you mumbled, your breathing gradually evening out as your sleepiness consumed you.

Every night before going to sleep, your mind typically wanders through various scenarios—ideas for future projects for the student council or school events, plans with friends, or aspirations for your career. But now it was different, as your thoughts gravitated towards Bada. You found yourself fantasizing about a cozy scene: the two of you sitting in a coffee shop on a cold day, sitting close enough to feel the warmth radiating from her skin, the tall girl noticing you shivering and gently taking your hand in hers—which interlocked perfectly. She smiled, her cheeks blushing a soft shade of pink, and you reciprocated by placing a kiss on her cheek. Aware that you were not dreaming, you fought to keep your eyes shut, feeling a wave of embarrassment as you analyzed your mind's impulsive diversion. With your eyes firmly closed, you focused on the soothing sounds of the road, allowing them to lull you—quickly falling asleep as you succumbed to your drowsiness with the scenario still lingering in your mind.

Meanwhile, Bada found herself stealing glances at you every few minutes, unable to resist your presence. She could not help but admire the peaceful and serene expression on your face, marveled at the way your brows furrowed ever so slightly, perhaps dreaming. It struck her how effortlessly beautiful you looked without any makeup, your long lashes delicately brushing against your cheeks, your skin appearing soft and glowy, and your lips—naturally rosy and full. She scolded herself for even noticing such details, shaking her head to clear her thoughts and focusing on the road ahead. You were proving to be quite the distraction for her, and she felt a sense of both infatuation and frustration at the hold you had over her thoughts.

Chapter Text

Bada parked the car at a small breakfast spot just outside the city limits. Nervously biting her lip before she reached out to gently pat your sleeping form, but when you did not wake up, she gave your shoulder a firmer shake. "Hey, wake up," she whispered as your sleepy eyes fluttered open.

You blinked, adjusting to the light and the closeness of Bada. "Oh, hi," you murmured, glancing out the window at the view. "Are we stopping for breakfast?"

Bada nodded, and you shrugged off the blanket from your body. "And we're on the outskirts, so you can enjoy the scenery you wanted," she added, retreating her hand from your shoulder as if sensing your awareness to her touch. "Still feeling sleepy?"

"Not anymore," you replied, lazily folding the blanket and setting it aside. "Did I sleep too long?"

"About an hour and a half. We're almost there," Bada chuckled, as she opened the door. "Let's go grab some breakfast."

Exiting the car, you grabbed your purse, taking a moment to stretch before Bada joined you. Walking up to the restaurant, you sensed the inviting smell of freshly made batter. Finding a table near the entrance, you sat down as Bada grabbed a menu, settling in front of you.

 "What's your favorite breakfast food?" you inquired as you grabbed a menu.

Bada glanced over hers, peeking out from behind it. "Hmm, I'm in the mood for an omelet and hash browns right now—but my favorite is French toast. How about you?"

"I'm a fan of waffles with strawberries," you replied, smiling. "I have this favorite spot near our university where they serve the most delicious strawberry cheesecake waffles. They're so good." 

As you spoke, Bada noticed the sparkle in your eyes. "Well, you're in luck," she said, tracing her finger down your menu to the particular item. "Looks like they have what you want. Are you ordering it?"

With a nod, you signaled the waiter, and placed your order. As you waited for your food, a comfortable silence echoed between you two, allowing you to look at your phones. When the dishes arrived, you eagerly cut into your waffle, offering a piece to Bada with a warm smile. "Try it, I bet you’ll like it," you urged, and Bada returned the gesture, sharing a slice of her omelet and hash browns. "Thank you." 

Simultaneously, you savored each other's dishes, enjoying the contrasting flavors—the omelet savory and light, the waffle sweet and pillowy. "It's so sweet, too sweet," Bada murmured—covering her mouth.

"So you're not a fan?" you teased, faking disappointment. "Just say you hate me—it's fine," your joke earned a laugh from Bada, who waved her hands in protest.

"Not at all," she reassured—Bada smiled, showing her teeth. "I have a bit of a sweet tooth, but this is on another level. It's good, just too sweet," Bada could not help but draw a parallel between you and your breakfast—both undeniably sweet.

Over breakfast, you and Bada talked about your plans, emphasizing the contrasting paths you predicted—as Bada shared her aspiration to open a dance studio with Yeni after graduation while you wanted to pursue a master's degree in Applied Linguistics.

After paying the bill, you returned to the car, noticing that Bada had finished her bottle of green tea during your nap. "If you enjoy it, you can have mine too," you said, pointing toward it as you draped the blanket over your lap.

"No, it's fine. I drank it all because I was nervous—my mouth got dry," Bada explained, starting the car. “It always happens to me.”

Your brows furrowed at her mention of feeling nervous. Why would she be nervous if you were asleep? Then it somewhat clicked—she mentioned she did not like driving alone on long trips. "Did the highway make you anxious?"

“Mhm, something about going too fast on an almost deserted road makes me anxious,” Bada was relieved, thankful that you attributed her nerves to the drive rather than your presence. "Yeah, but your company makes it better."

The journey to the city was almost in silence, with glancing out the window while making small talk—you did not want to seem annoying. Upon arrival, you assumed the task of using your phone to guide Bada through the maze of roads. Despite a few mistakes—directing her to a dead-end and mistakenly turning onto the wrong street, you breathed a sigh of relief when Bada only laughed it off instead of getting angry, a reaction you almost expected. 

Upon reaching the hotel's parking lot, you retrieved your luggage from the trunk and headed to the lobby, leaving your bag on the ground while checking in. Bada grabbed your bag, and led the way to the elevator, pressing the button for the fourth floor. "I hope we get a good view from the balcony," Bada remarked, leaning against the wall. 

As the elevator ascended, your mind wandered, making up a scenario straight out of a cliché romance novel you would read when you were younger: there was a single bed in the room, leading to an exchange at the front desk, and the employees telling you they could not give you another room. Bada would offer to sleep on the reclinable sofa, but you would protest saying it would be too uncomfortable, and insisting on sharing the bed as friends often did during sleepovers. However, the night would unfold with you cozily cuddling up against Bada's chest, wrapped in her arms—a daydream that abruptly dissolved as Bada called your name.

"The doors are going to close if you don't hurry!" she teased, prompting you to leave the elevator quickly. "Lost in thought, huh?" she said with a twinkle in her eyes.

"Mhm, yeah, just thinking about our presentation tomorrow," you stuttered with your cheeks blushing, obviously fabricating an excuse.

It has happened twice now—twice you found yourself lost in fantasized scenarios with Bada, scenarios that went beyond the boundaries of friendship. It was unnerving, an unknown experience that left you uncertain of your own feelings. Was it a crush, or just your mind playing tricks? Bada's past behavior had been shitty, yet her recent care and attention caused you to be confused.

Bada's laughter interrupted your trance. "Again?" she asked, standing beside you in front of the room's door.

"Huh?" you mumbled, momentarily disoriented. "What do you mean, Bada?"

"I've been talking to you," she chuckled, as you fumbled with the electronic key, pressing it against the reader. "Lost in thought, huh? Is it about someone?"

You laughed nervously, attempting to mask your feelings. "No, no, just distract—distracted, I guess," you replied, your voice betraying you by stuttering. "Yeah—just anxious and distracted."

Chapter Text

Night had fallen, and someone on the group chat for Wentz's class sent an invitation to go clubbing. Bada was excited about the idea, and you agreed to tag along, since a little fun before the stress of the presentation seemed like a good idea. While Bada took a nap, you began getting ready—showering, dressing up, and even applying more makeup than usual. The lilac nightdress you chose felt strange against your skin, but you wore it with confidence, adjusting its lacy trims before slipping into a pair of white sneakers.

As you finished lacing up your sneakers, you turned around, seeing Bada get out of the shower, dressed in a pair of black cargo pants and a blue crop top, her gaze locking onto you as she dried her hair with a towel. "Wow—" she murmured, smiling. "You look pretty—very pretty."

“Oh, thank you,” you smiled back—your eyes soft. “I'm not used to dresses, I'm more of a skirt person—but I figured it's a special occasion," you turned to the mirror, checking your appearance one last time. "It's been ages since I went clubbing."

"Just don't get drunk, okay?" Bada cautioned, sitting on her bed. "Remember, we have our presentation tomorrow. A hangover won't do us any favors."

"I know. I'll just drink something to satisfy my craving," you reassured her, meeting Bada's gaze in the mirror. "Are you drinking?"

"Maybe a beer or two," Bada replied, brushing her hair. "But I'm the designated driver, so nothing too wild."

You nodded, sitting on your bed while putting on your accessories while waiting for Bada to finish. By 10 p.m.—you were both ready, heading out towards the nearby club. Despite its smaller size, the sight of a queue outside of it caught you off guard, though you were relieved when the bouncer let you inside quickly.

"Do you want to sit with everyone or just close by?" you said—your voice loud enough to be heard by Bada amidst the music.

Bada leaned in, her breath tickling your ear as she whispered, causing a shiver to run down your spine. You had noticed the increasing physical contact, but this was unexpected, making you slightly anxious. "With them, but on a different table so we can leave earlier—our presentation is earlier than most of them," she said, and you nodded in response.

Navigating through the crowd, you led the way with Bada following closely behind. Arriving at your classmate's table, greeting everyone, and eventually merging two tables while ensuring you and Bada remained side by side.

You tapped Bada's shoulder, and she turned to find your gaze. "I’m going to the bar to get a drink, do you want something?"

"I’m coming with you," Bada responded firmly, her protectiveness evident in her tone. She guided you through the crowded dance floor until you reached the bar. 

You stood in front of the marble counter. "Let me get a strawberry mojito and a beer, please," you said to the bartender, stealing a glance at Bada, noticing her checking her phone. As the bartender passed you the drinks, your gaze was on the counter until you felt a cold touch on the small of your back. "What happened, Bada?" you began, assuming it was her behind you.

Turning around, you were startled to find it was not Bada, but a random guy with his hand still lingering against your back, causing you to move uncomfortably. "Hi, baby. Can I get your number?" he asked with a cocky grin.

Bada's gaze shot up the moment she heard the guy’s voice, her expression darkening as she witnessed the uncomfortable exchange—recognizing your discomfort, she quickly intervened, positioning herself between you and the man, her hand finding its way to your waist in a protective gesture, and you tensed up. "Doll, I’ve been looking for you," Bada interjected, using the pet name to throw off the guy. Though you knew her intentions—backing the guy off, you could not help but blush at her words. Bada turned her attention to the guy, looking at him with a threatening gaze. "Who is this? Is he bothering you?"

“Huh?” the guy looked taken aback by Bada's interruption, trying to maintain his dominance. "And who do you think you are? Leave us alone—I’m trying to make a move here, and you’re clearly ruining it," he said, annoyed. Bada, towering over him, could not help but laugh in his face. "What’s so fucking funny, huh?" 

“You’re funny,” her finger pointed at the guy, and Bada met his gaze—her eyes cold with a smirk on her lips. "Who am I? I’m her girlfriend," she stated, looking at you with a soft smile. "And I don’t share, buddy—she’s mine. So back off, or we're going to have some fucking problems, understood?"

Rolling his eyes, the guy fled, leaving you feeling relieved yet shaken. Handing Bada her beer, you took a long sip of your mojito, the tension slowly dissipating. Bada's hand left your waist, and she chuckled nervously, her feelings mirroring yours, as the incident provoked strange emotions in both of you. Despite it only happening to make the guy leave, the way the pet name rolled off her tongue lingered in her mind, and she could not shake the unexpected possessiveness she felt toward you. As for you, the sound of Bada referring to you as "hers" and the touch of her hand on your waist made you want to crave more of that intoxicating feeling.

"Thank you," you muttered, stepping forward, as you guided the way back to your friends' table, feeling Bada place her hand on the spot where the stranger's hand had been. "I appreciate it."

"I wasn't about to let that creep make you uncomfortable," Bada replied, her thumb circling against your skin. You turned around, meeting her gaze—smiling. You were unaware of the effect your smile had on her—for Bada, your smile was mesmerizing, a sight that made her heart skip a beat. "Keep smiling."

"Huh?" you mumbled, lifting your drink to your lips as you settled back at the table. "Me?" you raised your eyebrows playfully, making the dancer chuckle.

"Yeah—your smile is pretty," she confessed, admitting out loud what she had said on the text message you had seen. Your smile widened at her words, and Bada was lost in it, her gaze lingering on your face as she bit her lip. "Just like that."

As the night progressed, you noticed Bada becoming more comfortable around you—her caring demeanor and easy-going conversations only reaffirmed how much you appreciated her company. You left the club just before midnight, both of you exhausted from the trip and aware you had to sleep early. The moment you got to the hotel room, you began searching through your luggage in search of your pajamas, frustration creeping in when you realized you had forgotten to pack them. "What's wrong?" Bada asked, her gaze soft as she watched you rummaging through your bag. "What did you forget?"

"My pajamas," you said, your tone making your frustration evident. "I'll just have to make do with my hoodie and shorts, I guess."

Without hesitation, Bada retrieved her bag and grabbed a navy blue t-shirt. "Here, use this. I packed a few because I couldn't decide what to wear," she explained, offering you the shirt. "It's cozy."

Gratefully taking the shirt, you entered the bathroom to complete your bedtime routine—brushing your teeth, washing your face, and doing your skincare. As you changed into Bada's shirt, you ran your fingers over the material, noticing the faint scent of her perfume still lingering on the fabric. You glimpsed at yourself in the mirror, looking at how the oversized shirt draped loosely over your frame—smiling unconsciously. Leaving the bathroom, you flopped onto the bed, making Bada laugh at your actions. Little did you know, your innocent gesture had sparked something within her as she looked at you wearing her clothes—a realization that she could not ignore her feelings any longer. This was her chance, and she was determined to take it.

Chapter Text

As you open your eyes, the dull glow of the morning sun filtering through the blinds prompts you to cover your eyes with your hands. Glancing around the room, you noticed Bada was not on her bed, the sound of running water implying she was in the shower. Yawning, you reached for your phone and realized you had woken up before your alarm, which you quickly turned off. Stretching out, you sat up and caught sight of the breakfast plate Bada had ordered—a small handwritten note placed on top of the room service plate, which read—"for you, it's something sweet just like you like it." Smiling, you carefully placed the note on the back of your clear phone case before picking up the plate from the bedside table. Lifting the top, you discover a serving of pancakes with fresh fruit. While enjoying each bite, you let your thoughts drift, mentally rehearsing your lines for the presentation as you chewed. With the last mouthful, you set the empty plate aside and began gathering your belongings and clothes with the sound of the shower tapering off in the background. 

It took a few moments before Bada appeared from the shower, a smile gracing her lips as she noticed you were already awake. "Did you enjoy your breakfast?" she asked, settling onto her bed, dressed in a white robe. "They didn't have waffles, so I hope the pancakes were alright."

You giggled. "They were very delicious. Thank you so much," you replied softly, leaning against the bathroom's door frame. "Are you ready for our presentation?"

"I'm so fucking ready," Bada affirmed. "I just want to get it done so we can finally relax and put the stress behind us."

"I almost expected you to say you wanted to get rid of me," you teased, causing Bada to roll her eyes. "But yes, leaving the stress of Wentz's class behind sounds like a dream."

"Never—you'll never get rid of me now," Bada muttered, her smile soft. "I'll always be right by your side," your smile as you closed the bathroom door made her cheeks flush a deep shade of pink, and she felt uncertain—despite her growing fondness for you, she knew she did not deserve an easy path. 

She threw her body back onto the bed, her hands covering her face to stifle a groan—Bada was almost angry as she felt her stomach flutter. Every little detail about you—from the way your eyes drooped with sleepiness to the sight of you wearing her shirt with messy hair, only deepened her feelings. It was undeniable—she was fascinated by every little detail about you. 

As the warm water cascaded over you in the shower, your thoughts swirled around the presentation, but they kept rotating back to Bada. You found yourself longing for her company and craving her touch. The way she effortlessly brought a smile to your face was a sensation you had not experienced before. Nevertheless, articulating these feelings was a challenge you were not sure how to face.  After meticulously checking every detail of your outfits, you exchanged a glance with Bada—agreeing it was time to go. You made your way to the congress venue, a quick trip—and before you knew it, you were in the conference room, setting up the equipment, ensuring all the technical elements were in order. As the time approached, you rehearsed one final time, surprisingly less nervous than anticipated. Reflecting on how far you and Bada had come, you could not help but think it seemed destined, considering how drastically your perception of each other had grown. Perhaps, you thought, your fate was intertwined with working together in Wentz's class.

"It's almost time," Bada muttered, prompting you to meet her gaze as you walked to the opposite side of the small stage in the congress hall—your heels echoing beneath the wooden surface as you got closer to her. "How are you feeling?"

"Ready. I feel ready," you replied, locking eyes with her as you placed your hand on her shoulder, evoking a smile. "And you?"

"Same. I don't feel nervous," Bada responded, and you nodded. "I'm confident we are going to ace this."

You chuckled, glancing at your watch, which seemed to tick slower than usual. "Bada—" you began, but before you could continue, the tall dancer wrapped her arms around you, pulling close to her body. It took a moment for you to return the hug, but when you did—it felt like the most natural thing. You almost melted at the combination of her musky, wood-like perfume, protective embrace, and height—the hug made you realize everything was okay. "Bada, I—" you started to speak, but she gently shushed you.

"Shh—just enjoy it, alright?" she whispered, her hold firm as she rested her head atop yours. In that simple action, you both found ease and understanding, realizing just how much you needed each other's comfort—it felt genuine, and it felt right.

The taller girl released her embrace, and you took a deep breath. "Let's do it," you said, walking back to the opposite end of the stage.

Your presentation seemed to go by faster than anticipated—a 30-minute talk followed by a 10-minute question-and-answer session, to which you and Bada responded with ease, leaving your professors and classmates impressed with your well-researched answers. As the presentation concluded, flashing cameras captured moments shared with Bada and the praise you received. Exiting the room, you took a moment to share the pictures with your parents via text and posted them on Instagram. Together, you attended a few other conferences before your phone's constant notifications required your attention. Stepping aside to a quiet corner of the venue, you noticed the messages were from your dad, saying he loved you and talking about how proud he was. A lump formed in your throat, and tears threatened to pour out—finally, you had made him proud.

Struggling to contain your feelings, you bit your lip harshly as you tried not to cry, knowing you could not do it in front of everyone. Without a second thought, you decided to leave, the desire to pour out your emotions consuming your thoughts. In your foggy state of mind, you forgot to tell Bada you were leaving, your focus solely on being alone. With trembling hands, you called a taxi—the heavy weight of your achievement and hard work had finally paid off.

Chapter Text

Standing alone on the hotel's balcony, you felt the coolness of the air prickling against your exposed skin, raising goosebumps along your arms. Your gaze hovered into the distance as your thoughts were still unclear—heavy with emotion, you fought the urge to cry again, feeling drained. Seeking comfort, you closed your eyes and took a deep breath before letting it all out, resting your hands on the cold metal railing of the balcony. Suddenly, the door behind you swung open before slamming shut with a loud smash. Startled, you turned to find Bada walking to the balcony, her eyes conveying an anger you had never witnessed before. Though you had seen and heard her angry at you, this time felt different—it felt almost heavy, sending a wave of nervousness coursing through you.

"What the fuck were you thinking?" her words cut through the silence, sharp and firm. Before you could say anything, she pressed her hand against the balcony door. "You left me alone. I was worried! I had to go around asking where you were like an idiot, only to find out you basically ditched me."

"Oh, I was going to—" you began, but the lump in your throat stifled your words. Bada's anger almost seemed justified in your eyes—you had not even bothered to send a simple text.

"But you didn't," Bada spoke, her tone making it evident that she was disappointed. It felt like she was scolding you, akin to a parent and a disobedient child. "Why couldn't you just tell me? I could have given you a ride, but it's always about you, isn't it? You accused me of being selfish, but maybe it's you who needs a reality check," she raised her eyebrows, and her gaze intensified her words. Bada's anger was born of concern but quickly turned into frustration and bitterness. "You're so self-absorbed, it's infuriating, Ms. President."

You looked down, pressing yourself against the railing, trying to put as much distance as you could between you and the dancer. "Bada, it wasn't intentional. I just needed some space."

"From what? From me?" she said, frustrated. When you hesitated to respond, she rolled her eyes, interpreting your silence as confirmation that you were avoiding her. "There you go again. Do you think it's easy for me, huh? I'm trying so hard to make you comfortable and happy, but apparently, that's not enough for you."

"It's not you," you spoke, meeting her gaze. Nervously licking your lips, as you tried to find the correct words to explain the situation to her. "I swear, it's not you. I left because—"

Bada scoffed, cutting you off before you could finish your sentence. "Oh my god, come on—" she said underneath her breath. "Because of what, then? It felt like you couldn't wait to get away from me once the presentation was over. Am I not worth sticking around for or what?"

Drawing closer to her, you tilted your head slightly. "Bada, let me speak, fuck it," you said, slightly raising your voice. "You're amazing and lovely, and I want to keep talking to you. I didn't leave because I wanted to ditch you. I just had a lot on my mind."

"Yeah, right. I’m so lovely, you left me alone," she retorted, looking down at you. Retrieving her phone from her pants' back pocket, she unlocked it and pushed it in your direction, showing your Instagram post. "Then why couldn't you bother to post a single photo of us together, huh? These past few days were supposed to mean something, but it seems like they didn't mean a damn thing to you. This whole thing makes me so angry—you make me so angry."

"They do mean something, Bada," you replied, your tone laced with vulnerability. "I left because I was overwhelmed—my dad texted me, saying he was proud of me, and I needed a moment alone to process it all. I've talked to you about it, and I guess you understand why it means a lot to me."

Bada's expression remained cold, although you noticed she did not seem as angry as before. Her arms now crossed tightly against her chest. "What do they mean to you exactly? Because I'm starting to doubt whether you feel the same way I do. I can't believe I went out of my way to be there for you—to be a good person, only to feel like it was all a fucking waste of time."

Your throat tightened as you swallowed nervously—she was being too harsh on you, and you knew it. While Bada had a short temper and was extremely impatient, this reaction felt distinct—almost like she was overthinking or exaggerating things. Her words stung, seemingly laced with venom as if she truly hated you—it hurt to hear her say your time together was worthless, especially after the kindness and softness she had shown you recently.

“Bada, tell me one thing,” you began, your voice hardly above a whisper. Your heart raced as you closed the distance between you and the dancer, your gaze locked onto hers. “Why do you speak to me like you hate me?”

Bada's chest rose and fell with a deep breath, her eyes betraying her—as you noticed her gaze softened while she looked at you. Your presence had an uncanny power to stir emotions within her—it was something she could not quite explain. But your eyes made her mind hazy , the way they gazed into hers—your pretty eyes were so innocent yet captivating. She wanted to be angry, but it felt impossible—especially if you looked at her like that. “Look, Y/N. I'm going to be honest,” she said, breaking eye contact—as she did not want to give in. “There's no way I’m going to answer that, not in a million years.”

You reached out, placing your hand on Bada's arm, in an attempt to control the situation. “Just answer, please.” You pleaded, desperate to know the response. But Bada remained firm, her silence speaking volumes. “Now, tell me. Do you really hate me?”

“I would rather die than answer that.” She stated as she turned away. Your hand fell back to your side as she walked away to go back to the room, leaving you alone on the balcony.

Chapter Text

You followed Bada, who was already sitting on the bed, her hands covering her face. Approaching her, she turned towards you—frustrated. "Can you leave me alone? Just go to the lobby for a few minutes or something," she spoke, as she groaned onto her hands.

"Why is it so hard to answer a simple question, Bada?" you shot back, standing in front of her. "If you really hate me, you should have the guts to admit it."

Bada let out a dry chuckle before getting up from the bed, towering over you. "Oh, so you think I don’t have the guts?" she asked, looking down at you with a cynical grin.

Your eyebrows raised as you heard her words. "I mean, it should be easy, right? You speak to me like you do, so why is it so hard for you to actually tell me you hate me?"

"Alright, if you so desperately want it—I do, I fucking hate you," Bada snapped, pointing her finger at you. "Your attitude, your presence, you think you're better than everyone just because you're the president of the stupid student council. Oh, because you're so smart, and don’t need help from other people, right? You only needed me because the investigation shit was actually too much for you, and practically begged me to stay. That’s the only time you broke your perfect little act."

Something about Bada's words felt off, almost as if she had rehearsed them in the past, implying that the girl expected this conversation to happen. You could not shake the feeling that she was lying, even to herself—as the way Bada formed her sentences seemed forced—almost struggling to convince herself she actually believed what she was saying.

"And why do you care so much about me?" you stated, recounting every time she had contradicted herself. "Helping me with my clothes, carrying my bags, giving me a blanket because I was sleepy, and ordering me breakfast. Oh, and let’s not forget about the things you did in the club, acting like you were my girlfriend because a stranger was making me uncomfortable. Because for someone who hates me, you're clearly overprotective of me, aren't you?" Bada stood in silence under the weight of your words—her eyes avoiding yours as if she could not bear to meet your gaze. You swore the tension between you could be cut by a knife, as it was thick with unspoken desire. "Huh?" you prompted, breaking the quietness.

“I can't believe you,” Bada finally spoke, her voice barely above a whisper, as a nervous aura emanated from her. “Just, shut the fuck up.”

You arched an eyebrow, her unexpected response catching you off guard. “Oh, really?” you muttered, your hand finding its way to your waist. “And why should I?”

Bada's jaw clenched, and her hands firmly grasped the hem of her dress pants. “I'm dead serious, Y/N,” she stated, her tone trying to be firm. “Because you're annoying, and you're keeping tabs on everything I do because you want to get back at me.”

A crooked smile appeared on your face as you understood her words. “I'm such an annoying person, right?” you asked, a hint of sarcasm evident in your voice. 

You watched as her eyes gleamed with uncertainty, as she avoided direct eye contact. “You are, and you know it,” Bada said, as you visibly saw her gulp down. “And that's why you should shut the fuck up for once in your life.”

You held her gaze, dominating the atmosphere, refusing to back down as you leaned closer, the space between you reducing with each second. “Make me, Bada,” you murmured, your voice an irresistible whisper that sent shivers down Bada's spine—the way you pronounced each phoneme of her name was heaven-sent for her. “What? Are you being a coward now?” you pressed, wanting to send her on edge, as your voice was almost mocking—Bada had her time to be mean, now it was yours.

Bada's breath caught in her throat, and she licked her lips nervously. “Y/N, you’re going to drive me crazy,” she breathed, her hand trembling as she reached to place it on your shoulder—harshly gripping the soft material of your blouse. “I'm not a fucking coward, and you know it.”

"So, what are you waiting for? Prove it," you teased, the playful tone in your voice making Bada's mind clear up. “Well, if you don't do exactly what you're thinking of doing, I won't shut the fuck up—"

"Ah, I can't believe it. Is this what you want?" Bada's words felt as if she was pleading—as if she hoped you were just teasing. Deep down, however, she craved it just as badly, if not more. Despite her efforts to maintain composure, there was an undeniable desire within her.

Bada's hand, previously on your shoulder, crept down your back, tentatively probing as if gauging your reaction. "I said what I said," you said, tilting your head and batting your lashes. "If you won’t—"

Your words were cut off as Bada's hand cupped your cheek, her fingers pressing firmly against your jaw as she leaned in, her lips meeting yours in a needy kiss. Pulling you closer, she pressed your bodies together. Instinctively, your hands clutched the fabric of her blazer as you reciprocated the kiss softly. At that moment, all the tension and want between you seemed to culminate—as Bada tasted the sweetness of your lip gloss, she felt a sense of euphoria wash over her, as though she had found what she had been searching for. 

Breathless, she drew back, her gaze fixed on you with a smile. "Fuck, I've wanted to do that for ages," she confessed, her voice still breathy as she struggled to regain her composure. "For so damn long, it's all I could think about."

"Really? For how long?" you ask, tilting your head up to meet her gaze. "So, you've been thinking about it?"

Instead of answering, Bada leaned in for another kiss, her hand slipping lower to hold your waist gently, sending a fluttering sensation through your stomach as she circled your skin with her thumb. The kiss confirmed your suspicions, and hearing her admit that she had wanted this for some time made you blush deeply. Bada drowned in the sensation of your lips against hers, dumbfounded at the reality of the moment—this was not a dream, she was actually doing what she had been desiring to do.

Pulling apart slightly, you placed a gentle peck on her lips before speaking. "What took you so long, then?" 

"You're everything I never thought I'd like," she admitted, leaning in to place a small kiss on your cheek, then your forehead. "But fuck, the way your eyes twinkle and how smart and beautiful you are—it drove me crazy. Y/N, I couldn't keep pretending for long. I was so frustrated by how much you affected me, how I couldn't get you out of my head."

"Bada," you whispered her name tenderly, closing your eyes for a moment before placing another kiss on her lips. "Do you like me?" Instead of responding verbally, Bada let her actions speak for her. She kissed you again, this time it felt lovingly and less desperate, her delicate touch sending shivers down your spine. As you released the grip of her blazer, your hand moved to cup her cheek, and you rose onto your tiptoes, also melting into the kiss.

Chapter Text

The day slipped by effortlessly, which was made memorable not just by the dinner at a fancy restaurant but more so by Bada's company, which you adored even more now. Initially, you had been worried that the newfound feelings might make things awkward, but Bada had been extremely attentive, her care and affection dispelling any doubts.

Now, you were both walking back to your hotel room. "You know, I had a great time," you said, your voice was soft with genuine happiness. "This was all so unexpected."

Bada responded with a smile, her hand holding your waist as you walked side by side to the room. "Me too," she confessed, her tone tinged with a hint of awe. "I know I keep mentioning it, but—your smile—"

Before she could finish, you playfully interrupted her—pressing the key card to the reader, the soft beeping noise cutting her off. "What about it?" you teased, raising an eyebrow as you giggled.

Bada let out a laugh, her cheeks blushing a deep shade of red. "Stop it!" she said, frowning. "You know exactly what about it—it's so pretty, almost unreal." 

You remained silent, walking into the room and heading straight for the balcony. Bada's footsteps echoed behind you, as you leaned against the railing, gazing up at the starry sky, Bada's hand found its way to your waist, drawing you closer to her body—she nuzzled her face against the curve of your shoulder, her breath tickling your skin as she pressed a soft kiss to your cheek.

"Bada—" you began, attempting to turn around—so you could meet her gaze, but she held you in place, not with force but with a subtle determination. "Why did you pretend to hate me?"

"I didn't pretend," she replied, her voice laced with playfulness, sending a shiver down your spine as you felt her breath across your neck. "You know, I used to genuinely dislike you."

"But why?" You pressed, your curiosity getting the better of you. Bada had always been cryptic about her past feelings toward you, but perhaps now, if you insisted, she would finally reveal the truth. "I'm curious, Bada."

“Well—” Bada chuckled softly, her fingers trailing down, the cool silver metal of her rings making you blush as they brushed against the exposed skin your crop top showed. "Some secrets are meant to be kept, Ms. President," she teased, her tone playful. "But I can tell you something else instead."

"Tell me, I'm all ears," you said as you turned around, resting your hand gently on Bada's shoulder. Your heart beat faster as you noticed the soft glimmer in her eyes and her cheeks blushing a deeper pink. "What are you offering me?"

Bada's right hand drifted from your waist to gently cup your chin, her thumb brushing lightly against your glossy lips, stained a warm red. "I'll tell you, but I want you to look at me, okay? Just focus on me," she whispered, drawing you closer. You resisted the urge to look away or even close your eyes as she leaned in, the intensity of her gaze overwhelming yet enchanting. "In my dreams—I've done this a lot," she paused to press a delicate kiss to your forehead. "I've kissed you so often in my dreams, I can remember exactly how your lips move against mine," her words were punctuated by a quick kiss, her thumb still resting against your lips, impeding your lips to touch.

You let out a soft whimper, yearning for more, and Bada knew it. But before you could protest, her thumb now gently lifted your face, and she brought her lips to yours in a calculated, almost hungry kiss. Instinctively, your arms wrapped around her neck, pulling her closer. Bada held you tightly, a gesture that conveyed you were the only thing in the world that mattered to her. The kiss felt like a resolution—the answer to every tension that had ever built between you, transforming any apprehension into undeniable attraction.

As you both finally parted for air, you smiled, feeling Bada's hands wrap lazily around your waist. "What else have you done in your dreams?" your voice was playful, before yawning.

Bada also yawned, mimicking your action. “Are you sleepy?” she asked, and you nodded. She pulled away gently to head toward the bathroom. 

You followed her, waiting as she freshened up. While Bada was in the bathroom, you changed into her t-shirt and black shorts. Tying your hair up to wash your face, you listened to the sound of water stop as Bada exited the bathroom and settled onto her bed. You finished up in the bathroom, looking at yourself in the mirror, focusing on your lips—as you realized how infatuated you were with Bada, it felt almost unreal. You were drawn to her warmth, to wanted to know her more, to be close to her—to be hers. After brushing your teeth and washing your face, you stepped out of the bathroom, meeting Bada's gaze as she smiled warmly at you and patted the bed beside her. 

“Come here, pretty,” she spoke with open arms. Immediately, you cuddled against her, wrapping your legs around hers as she turned off the overhead lights, leaving only the warm glow of the bedside lamp. “Pretty baby—” she whispered.

“What did you just call me?” you mumbled, the words making your heart skip a beat, urging her to repeat it.

For a moment, Bada thought you had not heard her, but your smile told her otherwise—you just wanted to listen to those sweet words again. “You’re my pretty baby,” she repeated, her voice husky with tiredness as she stroked your hair gently. “Are you?” you hummed softly in affirmation, but Bada wanted you to say it out loud. “Tell me, are you?”

“I’m your pretty baby,” you murmured, your eyelids growing heavy, as you could not keep your eyes open anymore. “And, I like you, a lot,” you added, your voice now barely above a whisper.

“You need to rest now, you're too sleepy, and we have to wake up early,” Bada suggested, but you frowned slightly, with your eyes still closed. Despite your exhaustion, you yearned to hear her reciprocate your feelings. Your frown made Bada lean closer, whispering in your ear. “I like you so much, too,” her words, finally spoken, allowed a delicate smile to spread across your face as you drifted toward sleep, enveloped in Bada's arms—and you enjoyed the warmth and affection.

Chapter Text

You had checked out of the hotel with Bada, carrying your luggage and bags. After loading everything into the car's trunk, you slipped into the passenger seat. Bada closed your door with a small smile, making your stomach flip—and sadly, not in a good way. You sighed as she walked around to the driver's side and started the car.

Noticing the change in your demeanor, Bada turned to you with a concerned tilt of her head. Your once bright eyes were now dull, and your usual pretty smile was nowhere to be seen. “Hey, what’s wrong? Are you okay?” she asked, her voice softer than you had ever heard.

“Huh?” you mumbled, shaking your head and looking back at her. “Nothing—it’s just that I’m really tired,” the lie tasted bitter, and guilt gnawed at you as Bada placed a reassuring hand on your shoulder, giving it a gentle squeeze.

“Take a nap. I’ll take care of you,” Bada said. You nodded and leaned your head against the cold window, feeling a combination of comfort and unease.

You closed your eyes, not intending to fall asleep, but seeking a moment alone with your thoughts even though you were in Bada's car. Taking a deep breath, your mind flooded with questions, each one racing so quickly that you struggled to think clearly. You began to analyze each question, hoping to find some clarity amidst the confusion.

Had you forgiven her too quickly?

Maybe. But after all, she has been a good person lately. She was there for you the day you felt sad, even buying you a coffee—but was a cheap coffee truly a sign of care? She allowed you to spend time with her—but could that have just been because of the congress? And that time she pretended to be your girlfriend in the club to make some guy leave—was not that just basic decency? 

What about the kiss?

There was no solid proof that she kissed you out of genuine affection—and maybe it was just Bada's pent-up frustration manifesting unexpectedly. The kiss was delicate, yet desperate—too needy, too hungry to be more than attraction and tension. Could it really be more? Or was it simply a moment driven by emotions you could not fully understand?

Why would she tell you, "I've wanted to do that for ages"?

Her words echoed in your mind, precise and unmistakable—you could perfectly recall them. They could mean everything, yet they might also be a spontaneous expression. Perhaps she just found you attractive—many did. It would not be the first time someone was drawn to your looks—Yeni had confessed to a similar attraction before actually meeting you, only to change her mind afterward. Bada barely knew you—could it simply be physical attraction driving her thoughts? 

Why would she use a possessive adjective to describe you? Why call you "my pretty baby"?

It could have been a slip of the tongue, words uttered without a second thought. Nevertheless, those three simple words—"my pretty baby"—sent shivers down your spine and quickened your heartbeat. But perhaps, to her, it meant nothing at all.

Did it hold any significance for her to say she liked you?

For some people, saying "I like you" carries no weight at all—it is just empty words, devoid of any real semantics. But for you, a romantic at heart, admitting your feelings meant baring your soul—pouring your guts out to someone in the most honest way. Considering how poorly she had treated you, could those words possibly mean something genuine?

Why wouldn't Bada tell you why she hated you?

You had asked her several times, and each time she brushed it off with excuses—envy, you being the president, the incident related to her club, or your bossiness. It felt as if she deliberately avoided the real reason, as if her hatred was rooted in something deeper that she was not willing to confront or maybe, just maybe, she still hated you.

That is when another gut-wrenching question slammed into your mind. You had to force your eyes shut against the grotesque possibility your brain had mustered—it was as if your mind had fabricated the worst-case scenario, blindsiding you with its horrifying potential.

What if Bada's actions were all just a scheme to get back at you?

To her, it might be a twisted joke, a meticulously crafted plan to shatter your heart in the cruelest way possible. Maybe it was nothing more than a fake apology, a series of lies, a few kisses, some sweet words, and sharing a bed for a night—all designed to belittle, humiliate, and deceive you. After all, Bada could have even lied to her friends about enjoying your company, about loving your smile—knowing Yeni would show you the texts. And now, with the congress over and your cooperation in the investigation concluded, tomorrow or Friday, when Wentz handed out grades, it could be her "gotcha" moment, revealing how everything had been a calculated lie. It would be her vindication—a way of finally proving her superiority over you. Now, every interaction replayed in your mind, corrupted by suspicion. Her gestures of kindness now seemed like calculated moves of a game you had not realized you were playing. Could it really be true? Was she capable of such deception or was your mind spiraling into paranoia?

You were lost in thought when Bada gently shook your shoulders. "Hey, wake up," she spoke softly, and you opened your eyes, taking a deep breath. As you looked around, you realized you were in front of your apartment building. "We're here."

"Shit, I didn't realize I was out for so long," you muttered almost to yourself, meeting Bada's gaze—almost as if you were looking for the answers to your questions.

"Yeah," Bada sensed your unease but chose not to press further. She simply asked, "Are you okay?"

You nodded, swallowing hard. "Yeah, um, sorry," you apologized, unsure why. "I have to go—Gayoung said she'd be coming by when I got back."

Bada smiled weakly as she stepped out of the car, circling to open your door. You stood, watching as she closed the door and opened the trunk for your luggage, feeling awkward under her attentive gaze. It seemed she could sense something was wrong, and her attempt to hug you confirmed it when you instinctively pulled back—confusion flickered in her eyes as she noticed your demeanor.

"Bada, text me when you get home," you said with a frail smile before starting to walk away. She reached out, grasping your arm, not forcefully but with a clear display of concern.

"Tell me what's wrong," she urged, her words careful to avoid sounding accusatory. "Did something happen? Did I do something wrong?"

You shook your head, briefly closing your eyes. "I just need some time to think things through, Bada."

Chapter Text

It was Thursday afternoon, and you had stayed home after Professor Wentz emailed to say he could not make it to class today. He would, however, be handing out grades tomorrow, on Friday. This unexpected day off gave you plentiful time to think—about everything. Since yesterday, you have not really touched your phone. Bada's text saying she was home went unanswered, Yeni had tried calling a few times, likely because Bada had spoken to her, Haechi texted to ask about the trip, and Gayoung called, but you told her you needed to be alone—she understood and ordered some coffee to be delivered to your apartment, knowing it would cheer you up.

After a shower, you lay down on your bed—eyes puffy and red from crying, your face felt swollen, and your lips were dry and cracked. Clad in Bada’s shirt that you had practically stolen, and a pair of black shorts, you took a deep breath, trying to suppress the empty pit in your stomach—as the only thing you had had was the iced coffee Gayoung ordered, that is when you realized you needed her comfort, her listening ear, and her advice. Grabbing your phone, you saw several missed calls from Bada, which made your stomach sink. However, you decided to talk to Gayoung first, needing her support before talking to Bada directly, as you knew you would see her tomorrow, and wanted to be prepared.

You pressed your phone to your ear, and Gayoung answered almost immediately. "Gayoung, are you busy?"

"No, what happened? Are you okay?" she replied, and you heard the sound of her setting the phone down, probably on her desk. "What happened with Bada?"

"It was me, it was me. I'm just so—so fucking scared. I don't know what—what to do, Gayoung," you stuttered, your words failing you as you groaned and turned to bury your head in your pillows. "I can't even speak! Oh my god—why am I like this? How am I going to handle this? I can't, I don’t even know how am I going to school tomorrow, I'd rather not even go—"

"Hey, listen to me, take a deep breath. I can’t give you advice if you keep mumbling, just tell me what's on your mind—I'll understand," Gayoung instructed gently. You followed her advice, taking a deep breath. "There you go, go ahead."

"I—I, don't kill me!" you began, and Gayoung giggled, already knowing what was coming. "Bada and I—"

"You kissed and told each other how much you like each other," she interrupted with a dry chuckle. Your mouth fell open in shock—how did she know? You opened your eyes wide, and Gayoung sensed your inner turmoil, answering your unspoken question. "I saw it in your eyes—I always knew. Haechi, Yeni, and I talked about it constantly. And yes before you ask, Bada told Yeni, who told us. But please, continue."

"You always ruin my gossip sessions!" you teased, and Gayoung's laughter on the other end of the line brought a smile to your face, easing some of the tension that had been weighing you down. “Okay—so that happened!”

"Sorry, sorry," she said, still chuckling. "I just couldn't resist. But seriously, tell me what's going on. Why are you so scared?"

You took another deep breath, trying to gather your thoughts. "I'm scared that everything with Bada is just a game to her. What if she's only doing this to mess with me, to get back at me? It seems genuine but what if—"

“You’re such a fucking overthinker it pisses me off,” Gayoung's tone turned serious as she spoke. "I understand why you'd feel that way, but from what I've seen and what Bada has told Yeni, it sounds like she really cares about you."

"What did she tell Yeni?" you asked anxiously, hoping Gayoung could share something. "Please, just tell me."

Gayoung hesitated, her tone discreet. "I probably shouldn't be telling you this, but... it's about you, and Yeni already talked about it, so... I guess there's no harm," she chuckled nervously before continuing. "Okay, so basically, after dropping you off and seeing you go inside, Bada stayed outside freaking the fuck out. She called Yeni, because apparently, whenever someone panics, they call the person who gives the worst advice—"

"Look, I don't want to be a bitch, but," you cut her off, unable to contain your nerves. "Just tell me the important parts."

"Right, right, I won't add any commentary," Gayoung agreed, her tone more serious now. "She told Yeni that the moment you walked away, she knew something was wrong, and how she regretted how she treated you and realized it might be why you pushed her away."

"Yeah," you murmured, processing the information. "And, what else?"

"She said she needs to talk to you and show you how much you mean to her," Gayoung added, pausing shortly before continuing carefully. "There's something else, but I don't think I should say. If I was her, I wouldn’t want people gossiping about it to you—it's something personal, something I think she should tell you herself. It's clearly important to her."

"What?" you pressed, eyebrows furrowing. "What is it? Tell me."

"Nope, just talk to her," Gayoung advised firmly, refusing to elaborate. "I care about you, and she cares about you. Right now, you mean the world to her. Let her explain. I wouldn't let her hurt you, and I wouldn't suggest you talk to her if I thought she had bad intentions."

On the other end, Bada paced anxiously around her room, her heart pounding with a mixture of determination and nervousness. The last day's events had left her in turmoil, and the thought of facing you tomorrow at school made her stomach churn. She needed advice, which prompted her to grab her phone and dial Yeni's number.

"Hello," the older girl answered after a few rings—her cheerful voice making the dancer feel more relaxed. "What's up?"

"Hey, Yeni," Bada replied, gulping harshly enough for Yeni to hear on the other end of the line. "I'm really nervous about tomorrow."

Yeni perceived the urgency in her friend's voice. "Is this about her or your grade in the class?"

"You already know the answer to that," Bada admitted, running a hand through her long hair. "I don't know what to do or how to talk to her. I'm scared she won't even listen to me—and I mean, if I was her, I would probably act the same way."

"Okay, take a deep breath first, okay?" Yeni sighed sympathetically—and the younger girl did as she was asked. "Why do you say that?"

Bada took a moment to collect her thoughts before speaking. "I just know that my past behavior is why she's pulling away. I—I wouldn't trust someone with my heart if that person was also the same that was a bitch to me," she spoke, her voice cracking as she fought the urge to cry over the phone. "I made her life shittier, then I treated her nicely, out of nowhere I was mean again, and then I kissed her—and, God—for her, it was probably like a rollercoaster of emotions."

"Yeah, I get it—" Yeni breathed out, nodding. "And what do you want to say to her? It might be a good idea to sort that out, and speak to her already knowing what you want to say."

"I want to apologize, genuinely," Bada said, as she let a shaky breath out. "I need her to know that I regret how I've treated her and that I care about her so much—more than I realized. I want to tell her why I pretended to hate her from the start—why I did what I did—I want her to know my truth."

"Well," Yeni thought for a moment before responding. "Honesty is the best approach—when you talk to her, be sincere. She needs to see—to know that you mean it."

"But what if she doesn't believe me?" Bada asked, gripping her phone so hard, that her knuckles turned white. "Most likely, my words don't mean anything to her." 

"Then you show her, Bada" Yeni replied firmly. "Actions speak louder than words. If you truly care about her, you'll find a way to prove it."

Bada nodded, licking her lips nervously. "You're right. I just—I'm nervous I'll fuck this up."

"You won't," Yeni comforted her—the dancer's tone was soft. "Just be honest, tell her how you feel, and if she needs it—give her some space."

"Thanks, Yeni," Bada said, a small smile forming on her lips. "I really appreciate it—I'll try to make things right."

"Anytime, Bada," Yeni replied warmly. "Get some rest, you'll need it."