limerence ? han dongmin

chapter xiii

Taesan's head whipped toward her. "No."

"You're pouting."

"I'm not."

"You are."

"I'm literally not."

Minji smiled, smug and victorious. "Your lip was doing that thing."

"What thing?"

"That curve thing."

"My lip doesn't curve."

She tilted her head. "It just did."

Taesan looked away, muttering, "You're imagining things."

Minji leaned back against the window, her breath fogging the glass. She watched him fiddle with the strings of his hoodie and shake his hair slightly, droplets flying off the ends.

She quietly unwrapped a small pack of tissues from her bag, rolled one up, and tossed it across the aisle. It hit him square on the forehead.

"Dry yourself, loser."

Taesan blinked. Then grinned — smug now.

She looked away.

But the corner of her mouth twitched.

The bus rumbled along the wet roads, occasionally jerking when the driver braked too hard or swerved around puddles. Minji pressed her shoulder against the window, pretending to be invested in a blurry streetlight.

Taesan kept glancing her way, poking at the tissue she'd thrown at him like it was some mysterious object.

The next stop came, a sharp brake following a turn. The bus jolted suddenly.

Taesan's arm slipped off the seat's edge, and before he could balance himself, he stumbled—straight across the aisle.

Right into Minji's seat.

And her.

His shoulder bumped into hers. His soaked hoodie brushed against her sleeve.

They both froze.

Taesan didn't move, still half leaning into her space, one hand braced on the back of her seat.

Minji stared at him. His face was very close. Like, close enough she could count the tiny eyelashes under his eye, or see how a raindrop clung to his lower lashes.

"You good?" she asked, very slowly, trying to sound unfazed.

Taesan blinked. "Yeah. Just, you know. Bus moved."

"Right." Minji's heart was punching her ribs. "The bus."

Neither moved.

Minji narrowed her eyes. "You're still in my space."

Taesan didn't retreat. "It's a shared seat."

"You have your own seat."

"It's cold over there."

"It's damp over here."

"I'll be quick."

"You're not moving."

"...I forgot how to move."

Minji groaned and shoved at his shoulder—he finally relented, laughing under his breath as he slid back into his seat across the aisle.

"You're ridiculous," she muttered.

"You like it."

"No, I don't."