Chapter Text
The sun was just starting to set over the Hirai household, casting a soft glow through the living room windows. Momo sat cross-legged on the floor, furiously clicking away on her game controller, a bag of chips resting against her thigh.
“Can you not rage every time you lose?” Nayeon’s voice came from the couch above her. “It’s hurting my delicate ears.”
“Then go home,” Momo muttered, not even looking up from the screen.
“Can’t,” Nayeon said casually, reaching into the chips. “This is my second home now. Your parents basically love me.”
“No, they just feel sorry for you.”
Nayeon grinned. “Still counts.”
It was true—Nayeon was practically a permanent fixture in their house. Ever since elementary school, she’d been Momo’s loud, dramatic best friend. By now, she knew where the spare key was hidden, what drawer the good snacks were in, and how to tune out Momo’s rants with the skill of a seasoned warrior.
“Hey, speaking of things you love,” Nayeon said with a smirk, lifting her head toward the hallway, “look who it is.”
Mina walked past, heading toward the kitchen in a fluffy white hoodie and mismatched socks, completely unbothered.
Nayeon stretched her arms behind her head and called out in a sing-song tone:
“Oh hey, babygirl.”
Mina paused. Not enough to make it obvious—but Nayeon saw the flicker of a head tilt. Mina looked over her shoulder, expression blank.
“…Hi, unnie.”
And then she disappeared around the corner.
Momo slammed the pause button on her game.
“Can you not flirt with my sister for five minutes?!”
“What? I was just saying hi,” Nayeon replied, feigning innocence.
“With a nickname that sounds like it belongs in a fanfic!”
Nayeon’s grin widened. “Maybe it is. Maybe I’m writing it in my head right now.”
“You’re impossible,” Momo groaned, flopping onto her back.
From the kitchen, a soft clinking of ice cubes and glass echoed.
Nayeon looked at the ceiling, smug. “Your sister’s cute. You should be happy someone appreciates that.”
“She’s my sister, not your plaything!”
“And yet,” Nayeon said, sitting up dramatically, “she continues to exist. In my line of vision. Looking like that.”
“You’re literally insane.”
“And you love me.”
“Unfortunately.”
✿
The kitchen was quiet, save for the soft hum of the refrigerator and the clink of ice as Mina stirred her drink. She moved with practiced silence, clearly used to coexisting with chaos without being part of it. Her hoodie sleeves nearly covered her hands as she poured soda into her glass and stirred absentmindedly.
From the living room, voices echoed—mostly Momo yelling and Nayeon being her usual dramatic self.
“Seriously, I can’t leave you alone for one second without you turning into a flirt machine,” Momo grumbled.
“Oh please,” Nayeon said, her tone light, “I’ve always been a flirt machine. You're just jealous I don’t call you babygirl.”
Momo made a sound like she was being personally attacked by god.
Mina exhaled through her nose, barely a smile, barely audible, but definitely there. She turned off the kitchen light and walked back into the living room with her drink in hand.
As expected, Nayeon was now lying completely sideways on the couch, legs draped over the armrest, head hanging off the other end like she had no bones in her body.
Mina quietly approached the armchair, but before she could sit—
“Hey, babygirl.”
Nayeon’s voice came without looking, like instinct. Like the name belonged to Mina now.
Mina paused mid-sit. She gave Nayeon a look—neutral, as always—but the slight twitch at the corner of her lips gave her away. She lowered herself into the armchair, curling her legs up beside her.
“Hi,” she said, not bothering to hide the faint amusement in her voice.
Momo, who was half-sitting on the carpet, flung a small cushion at Nayeon.
“Can you not flirt with her in front of me? I’m right here. Breathing. Existing.”
“I flirt with everyone,” Nayeon replied lazily, catching the pillow with one hand. “It’s a love language.”
Mina sipped her drink, looking utterly unbothered.
“Pretty sure calling someone ‘babygirl’ isn’t a universal love language,” Momo snapped. “It’s a you language.”
Nayeon grinned. “Exactly. It’s a me-to-Mina language.”
Momo looked like she was going to combust.
“You’re the worst.”
“And yet, here I am,” Nayeon said, folding her hands behind her head. “Still invited to movie night. Still your best friend. Still incredibly charming.”
Momo turned to Mina like she was seeking backup.
“Please say something. Anything. Tell her to stop.”
Mina blinked slowly. Then she turned her attention to the TV screen.
“…I thought we were watching a movie.”
Momo let out a strangled noise.
Nayeon laughed—genuine and bright. “See? She likes me.”
Mina didn’t respond, but she reached for the remote and started browsing Netflix.
Her ears were slightly pink.
❀
The movie had been playing for twenty minutes. Something vaguely action-y. Momo was invested, half-yelling at the screen every few minutes like the characters could hear her. Nayeon, not so much.
Nayeon had shifted again—now sitting upright on the couch, her legs tucked beneath her and her eyes not on the screen, but on Mina.
Mina, who was still curled up on the armchair, blanket draped around her shoulders, soda glass resting on the coffee table. Her face was passive, but every now and then, her eyes flicked toward Nayeon like she knew she was being watched.
Nayeon grinned, resting her chin on her hand.
“So, Mina,” she said during a quiet part of the film, voice casual but laced with teasing, “if you had to pick—would you say I’m charming, or dangerously charming?”
Mina didn’t even look at her. “Delusional.”
“Oof,” Momo cackled from the floor.
But Nayeon didn’t seem fazed. If anything, she looked pleased.
“She didn’t say no,” Nayeon said, eyes twinkling.
Momo let out a groan and tossed a stray sock at her.
“Why do I let you in this house?”
“Because I’m sunshine in human form.”
“You’re mold in human form.”
“Jealousy doesn’t look good on you, Momo.”
As they bickered, Mina reached for the remote to lower the volume a bit. She didn’t say anything, but her lips twitched again—barely a smirk, barely a reaction, but Nayeon saw it.
Nayeon’s grin widened. She shifted slightly, leaning closer.
“Mina,” she whispered, just loud enough for her to hear over the movie. “You smiled.”
“No, I didn’t,” Mina replied flatly.
“You did. It was microscopic, but I caught it.”
Mina didn’t respond. She picked up her drink and took a slow sip—calm, cool, unbothered. But the tips of her ears were, once again, just the faintest bit pink.
Nayeon nudged Momo with her foot. “You seeing this? I’m winning her over.”
“You’re hallucinating,” Momo muttered.
“No, I’m manifesting.”
Mina finally turned her head, making direct eye contact with Nayeon. Her tone was calm, but her words came out slower this time—measured.
“You talk too much.”
Nayeon blinked. “That wasn’t a no either.”
Mina raised one brow, then turned back to the screen.
Momo sat up straight. “Wait. Wait, wait—are you two actually flirting now? In front of me?!”
“Technically,” Nayeon said, smug, “she flirted back. I’m just vibing.”
“I hate this timeline,” Momo muttered, flopping back down on the floor like she’d been betrayed by the universe.
Nayeon chuckled under her breath. She leaned back on the couch, satisfied. It wasn’t much—but Mina had met her halfway, even just a little.
And Nayeon could live off just a little—for now.
✿
The movie rolled on, but the room had long since lost its original focus. Momo was now half-asleep on the floor, snuggled up with a pillow and a bag of almost-empty popcorn. The dim light from the TV cast shadows on her face, and every so often, she’d twitch in reaction to a loud sound from the movie.
Nayeon, however, hadn’t looked at the screen in a solid ten minutes. Her eyes had slowly wandered—back to the quiet girl in the armchair.
Mina had shifted too, resting her head against the back of the seat, her blanket now tucked under her chin. Her eyes looked soft, not tired, but… peaceful. And Nayeon found herself watching her again—not in the usual teasing way, but slower. Still. Studying.
Mina felt it.
“What?” she asked without looking away from the screen.
Nayeon blinked, startled slightly. “What?”
“You’re staring.”
“I’m admiring,” Nayeon corrected, trying to pull on her usual grin. But it came out smaller this time. Not as cocky. “You’re pretty when you're quiet like this.”
That got Mina to look at her.
Not with her usual deadpan, not with that unreadable blankness—but with something a bit softer. Cautious. Caught off guard.
“...You're weird,” Mina said finally, but her voice lacked its usual flatness.
Nayeon tilted her head. “You think I’m joking?”
“Aren’t you always?” Mina countered.
Nayeon didn’t answer. For once, she didn’t know what to say. That flicker in Mina’s eyes — the hesitance, the vulnerability — it made her chest tighten in a way she wasn’t expecting.
So she leaned back, but not before offering a quieter line.
“You flinched.”
Mina blinked. “What?”
“You flinched when I called you pretty,” Nayeon said, resting her cheek on the back of her hand. “I think that’s the first time I’ve ever seen you react like that.”
Mina stared at her.
Momo groaned loudly in her sleep. “Can you two flirt quieter, I’m trying to die here.”
Mina looked away immediately, cheeks flushing as she sank deeper into her blanket. But Nayeon saw it—the blush. The real one. Not just a little pink on her ears. Full-on, “I hate that you noticed me blushing” blush.
Victory buzzed in Nayeon’s chest.
But it also made her feel… something else.
Less like she was winning a game. More like she was learning a secret.
She bit the inside of her cheek to stop herself from smiling too wide.
“Relax,” she murmured. “I’ll go back to calling you ‘babygirl’ if it makes it less serious.”
Mina didn’t answer.
But her hands gripped the blanket just a little tighter.
❀
The movie’s credits were rolling now, white text gliding over black as soft orchestral music played in the background. Momo was fully asleep on the carpet, one arm flung over her face, the other still loosely holding a half-empty bag of popcorn.
Nayeon glanced at her and snorted. “She’s going to wake up with neck pain and blame me for it.”
From the armchair, Mina stretched her legs out, blanket falling off her lap as she slowly stood. She moved to the kitchen without a word, her now-empty glass in hand. Her movements were quiet, graceful in the way that Nayeon had always found mildly hypnotizing.
Without thinking too hard about it, Nayeon followed her.
Mina was at the sink, rinsing her glass when she felt Nayeon behind her. She didn’t turn around, just said plainly:
“You’re following me.”
“I am,” Nayeon said, leaning against the counter. “Didn’t want the night to end.”
Mina raised a brow. “It’s a movie night. Not a date.”
Nayeon smirked. “Could be.”
This time, Mina turned to look at her, eyes narrowed in quiet amusement. “You’re relentless.”
“You’re pretty,” Nayeon replied, then tilted her head. “Dangerous combination, you know. Quiet and pretty. Makes me say things I shouldn’t.”
Mina didn’t respond right away.
Then—
“Then stop saying them,” she said softly.
But there was no heat in her voice. No irritation. Just… something unsure. Vulnerable. Testing the waters.
Nayeon paused, her usual cocky retorts dying in her throat.
She studied Mina’s face. The calm mask was still there, but the slight downturn at the corners of her lips, the faint pink lingering in her cheeks, the way her fingers nervously tapped the counter—Nayeon saw all of it.
“I could stop,” Nayeon said, voice gentler now. “But you don’t want me to.”
That made Mina look at her. Really look.
Silence stretched between them like a held breath.
“…You’re annoying,” Mina said eventually.
“But not wrong,” Nayeon replied, smiling.
Mina turned back to the sink, but her ears were fully red now. She dried her hands and brushed past Nayeon to head back to the living room—without another word.
But right before she reached the doorway, she paused. Just for a second.
Then, without looking back—
“Goodnight… unnie.”
Not babygirl. Not teasing. Just a soft, almost shy acknowledgment.
Nayeon watched her leave, feeling a strange warmth spread in her chest. It was unfamiliar. Dangerous, even.
Because for the first time in years of knowing the Hirais, Nayeon realized something important:
This might’ve started as a joke—but she was in trouble now.
Big, heart-thumping, can't-look-away, definitely-liking-her trouble.
She looked down at the tile floor and smiled to herself.
“Goodnight, babygirl.”