The rain outside felt like it was swallowing the city, heavy and endless, mirroring the storm inside Yuna’s chest. She was fed up, fed up with Hyera’s constant texts, fed up with her own confusion, and fed up with Minji.

Minji.

That girl was driving her insane. Minji smiled like she didn’t know what she was doing to Yuna, touching her arm, leaning in close, letting their nights together blur into something that felt like love but was never called love.

Yuna’s hand slammed against Minji’s apartment door. She didn’t wait for Minji to open it; she shoved it hard enough that Minji, standing behind it, nearly dropped her phone.

“Y-Yuna?” Minji stammered, startled. “Why are you—”

“Don’t talk,” Yuna said sharply, her wet hair dripping onto the floor as she stepped inside. Her eyes were dark and restless. “Just… don’t.”

“Yuna, what’s wrong—”

Yuna’s lips crashed onto hers before she could finish. It wasn’t soft or sweet—it was messy, needy, like Yuna was trying to rip the answer from her with every kiss.

Clothes hit the floor, and the sound of rain pounding on the windows blended with their ragged breathing. Minji’s fingers trembled as they tangled in Yuna’s hair, her voice breaking between kisses.

“Yuna… wait—”

“Shut up,” Yuna muttered, her tone trembling. “Isn’t this all you want anyway? This? Us? Like this?”

Minji froze under her touch. “What are you saying?”

Yuna’s voice cracked, frustration spilling out. “We’re not dating. We don’t talk about feelings. We just… do this. Isn’t that what we are? Friends with benefits?”

Minji’s eyes widened, hurt flashing across her face. “Is that what you think?”

Yuna pulled away, sitting up, her back to Minji. Her hands shook as she grabbed her shirt from the floor. “What else am I supposed to think, Minji? You act like I’m just some… some game to you. You let me crawl into your bed, but you never say anything. You never choose me.”

The rain outside felt deafening.

Minji’s voice broke into a whisper. “…Yuna, I’ve never seen you this angry.”

“I’m not angry,” Yuna said, slipping into her jacket. “I’m tired. Tired of guessing what we are.”