Chapter Text
Everyone has their doubts.
Some smaller than others, some larger than life.
Some are all-consuming, as much as your smart sense wants to keep pushing them away.
But it all comes back somehow.
That's how Momo felt when she was twelve, the moment Sana sat next to her in the back of the classroom—sharing mischievous stories, giggles louder than the teacher's voice, distracting whispers that caused them to be split up every once in a while.
But Momo had gone too close for a whisper that she started to notice how Sana's hair smelled… sweet.
And since then, she'd always lean in a little closer just to smell Sana's hair.
It was until Sana visited and stayed in her room, that Momo had to add another one in the list of weird things she does:
Spending long minutes burying her face on the bedsheets because it had the smell of her best friend's hair on it.
It went as far as Sana lending her a jacket, and Momo taking extra time to stop by her closet to smell it. Her dad definitely found it weird when he failed to knock once.
The doubts came crashing on her like waves.
All with the questions on why the hell was she addicted to Sana's scent like a drug. At twelve years old.
Doubts that kept Momo awake at night even when she tried to shrug it off.
Doubts if smelling Sana's hair and clothes were weird or just a normal, best friend thing.
And so, when Momo's thirteenth birthday came up, she got a perfume from her mom as the gift she's been asking for months.
She put it on the next day, waiting for Sana to smell her.
“Momoring, did you wear new perfume today?”
And as Sana sniffed her, her cheeks went warm and she could feel a tingling feeling in her stomach.
Maybe because her best friend was impressed at her. Maybe because Sana complimented her for a gift she's been asking her mom about. Maybe because she felt Sana's baby hairs poking her chin and it tickled her in an intense way.
The doubts.
Doubts about what she truly liked.
But as puberty caught up to her in the following years, and upon idolizing a senior cheerleader who made her heart skip a beat every time, Momo became aware that her doubts were right.
That she was different.
She wasn't even sure if it was right or wrong.
But Sana had always the best one in taking away her doubts.
“So what if it's not normal?” She remembers her best friend blurting out as they ate chips at the foot of her bed, “You like each other. Isn't that what relationships are? Nayeon told you she likes you too. You should ask her to be your girlfriend.”
And so she entered a relationship with a girl at fifteen.
Years later, she realizes why her best friend's hair smelled so good.
Momo breathes through the last of her presentations, clicking away at her computer to kill the time. It was nearing three in the afternoon, with only a few hours left until her shift ends.
A year ago, she was up in the office until six. But with just few convincing through the good reputation she's built in years, the company's higher ups agreed to let her work in the office only on select days, and with shorter shifts.
It was different now.
When the clock struck three, she rushes out, making sure to stop by the 7-Eleven downstairs before driving downtown.
Momo could say she was nervous, but a sprawl of middle school children shouldn't be too threatening.
Yet in the middle of the drive, as she was nearing an elementary school, she was already preparing to stop by the bay where the parents pick up their kids.
Momo carefully maneuvers and looks around, and that's when she finally sees them.
Sana and Sullyoon.
She smiles.
And as if in cue, they spot her and wave. Sullyoon was excitedly greeting from afar as Momo approached their side. Upon stopping, she goes down to open the door for them. Sullyoon settles in the back seat, and Sana claimed her place in front. Momo goes around to lock in, rolling past the school with an excited grin.
“Sullyoonie,” Momo calls, “I have yogurt in the bag next to you. That's yours, baby.”
“Thank you Aunt Momo! I love you!” She excitedly rummages through the bag and digs in her first cup. Momo had the widest grin, but Sana was already clicking her tongue next to her.
“What?” Momo whispers in a chuckle.
“Nothing for me?”
“In the glove box.”
Sana was quick to open it, and Momo didn't have to look to register the gasp followed after.
Three chicken sticks. Sana’s favorite.
When they reached Sana's home, it was a rush of just talking about their day, especially Sullyoon's time in school. They bonded over TV and some more snacks in the living room, until Sana called the time for Sullyoon to do her homework.
It was a routine that went well with them, and Momo was happy to be in the thick of it—seeing the two go over their day and being a part of it was the best change in the past year.
Now, the time for Sullyoon to do her homework in her room would also be the time for her and Sana to freshen up or get over an hour of rest before dinner. And so, Momo follows behind Sana to her room with a satisfied sigh.
But the thing was—Sana locked it the second they entered.
The next moment Momo finds herself getting pushed to the bed and Sana climbing on top of her with menacing giggles.
The kisses followed instinctively, and Momo chuckled through it, feeling her head light with how sweet Sana smells right now.
It was the usual—whenever they had time in Sana's room, when Sullyoon was asleep, or when mornings stretched too long—they’d make out and be a little too giddy about it. One year in, and it's still the same.
But Sana was up to something else, apparently.
She takes off her coat— sure, normal. But the next thing she did was remove her shirt and unclasp her bra in one continuous motion, and Momo hikes up the bed as she watches Sana free her chest.
"Sattang, your daughter." Momo whispers, but Sana doesn't seem to care as she brings Momo's hands over to her breasts.
And she feels dumb, really, because she doesn't move. Not until Sana clicks her tongue and stands up, leaving her alone in the bed.
But before Momo could find it in her heart to protest, Sana was back on top of her—pants down.
"I'll be quiet." Sana flips them over. Momo was on top now, caging Sana in her arms as she swallowed, snapping herself out from the lag she had since Sana took off her shirt.
“Oh, okay, I…” Momo runs a hand up her bare body a bit too slowly, Sana groans.
“Oh you damn virgin,” She rolls her eyes, “Be quick, Momoring. We have less than an hour.”
"I can't.” Momo frowns, “I have to foreplay you."
"Saying it like that is weird." They were whispering, afraid of their voices reaching the other room. "Just do it quick. I'm already horny."
And so Momo kisses her, properly this time. Properly and hungrily. It's been a while since they've done it, with work and life catching up, and Sana being too tired like she isn't the pillow princess already. But Momo doesn't mind.
Or she used to not mind—not until now. Not until she smells Sana's skin through their fervid kisses, and feels her body pressing onto her as she takes off her own clothes. She doesn't even realize her socks were only halfway removed because Sana was already pulling her back, leading Momo's face to her neck. She kisses, sucks, and Sana moans.
“You said you'd be quiet.” Momo says, but doesn't stop at all. Sana was squirming under, her touches exploring her body in all places.
But Momo's hands suddenly go to somewhere ticklish that Sana suddenly snorts out a laugh. After a while, Momo couldn't help but laugh as well. Silly enough, they keep giggling while Momo ungracefully takes off Sana's underwear and pulls the blanket over them.
“Are you ready?” Momo growls demonically, and Sana snorts at how silly it all is.
“Ew. That's so… ha… corny.” Sana pupils disappear back when Momo starts touching somewhere sensitive. “Oh shit!”
"Shh! Be quiet, Sattang.” Momo scolds her.
"Just go in already." Sana hisses.
"Wait, I have to... do this first."
"Oh holy shit..."
It was insane.
How Sana kept breathing in her ear that it tickled.
How Sana tried hard to keep her whimpers from spilling out.
How Sana was losing herself with her under the blanket, noises pitched high and breaths in sync.
Sana, of all people.
Her best friend.
Her girlfriend.
"Momo, I'm almost- oh god."
“Oh, really?” Momo breathlessly says, “Like, already? Cool, Sattang—”
“Stop talking!”
"Mommy!"
The fantasy suddenly breaks.
"Shit shit shit!" Sana curses, shaking herself out when Momo suddenly throws herself off the bed. Falling with a thud.
"Momo!" Sana whisper-shouts, but Momo was too busy grabbing their clothes to care about the pain, “Momo, where's my underwear!”
"I don't know!" Footsteps were nearing, "Act normal!” Momo runs to the bathroom bottom-naked and locks herself in, leaving Sana to fend for herself.
“Mommy! I need help with my homework!”
“You didn't finish, did you?” Momo asks Sana in a whisper as she washed the dishes, careful for the question to not reach the nine-year-old in the living room, watching TV and completely unaware.
“It's fine.” Sana chuckles, helping Momo clean up the sink.
“You get some rest. I'll do everything here.”
“No.” Sana's brows furrowed, “I don't even do chores anymore. You keep taking everything.”
“It might be bad for your fracture.”
Sana scoffs, “Momo, even Dr. Kang begged me to stop visiting because I'm fully healed.”
“Still.” Momo argues, “Just take over Sullyoon. It's almost her bedtime.”
“Okay. Fine.” Sana takes a second to look, and Momo notices it. She pauses to glance at her girlfriend in question, raising a brow.
“I really want to kiss you right now.” Sana says, and it curves Momo’s lips into smirk.
“If we finish early, a kiss won't be the only thing you'll be getting.”
Sana sighs dramatically, hitting Momo lightly on the hip.
The sound of the bathroom door clicking open pulled Momo from where she stood folding Sullyoon’s socks. She turned her head just in time to see Sana emerge in a loose white shirt and cotton shorts, drying her hair lazily with a towel.
Momo grinned, practically skipping over.
“You smell like heaven.”
“Don’t you dare hug me.” Sana didn’t even look up. Momo gasped dramatically, already sidling closer.
“Come on. Just one.”
“You’re not clean.” Sana flicked the towel at her, “No privileges earned.”
“Aw.” Momo muttered, backing off in defeat—but not before leaning in close, nose brushing Sana’s damp shoulder. “Okay, I’m going. But you better wait for me.”
“I’ll try,” Sana said with a tired laugh, already crawling under the sheets. “Be fast.”
“I’m always fast.” Momo said with a wink as she headed to the bathroom.
Sana didn’t respond, she just gave her that small, crooked smile that made Momo want to kiss her until her knees gave out.
The bathroom was still warm from Sana’s bath. Momo stripped quickly, grinning to herself as she turned on the tap. She kept it short—scrubbing fast, mentally rehearsing all the dumb things she wanted to say to Sana when she got back in bed. Maybe she’d trace little circles on her back and joke about her wrinkly fingers. Maybe she’d say something stupid, like I missed you all day even though they were together for half of it.
She was towel-drying her hair as she stepped out the shower cabin, bare feet padding softly against the wooden floor.
“Sattang?” she whispered as she pushed the bathroom door open with her shoulder.
The lights were off now, save for the accent of the lamp on Sana’s bedside. The sheets were slightly tangled, her small frame curled into a crescent on Momo’s side of the bed. Her breathing was deep. Rhythmic.
Fast asleep.
Momo stood there for a moment, lips parting with the smallest breath of a laugh. She couldn’t even pretend to be disappointed. She wasn't.
She climbed into bed without a word, slipping under the covers, careful not to wake her. Her arms found Sana’s waist instinctively, her nose tucking into the crook of her neck.
Warm.
Sweet.
Still damp from the bath.
Still heaven.
She closed her eyes, pressing a small kiss against her shoulder.
This, Momo thought, was everything.
Just the weight of someone you love falling asleep knowing you’ll be there when they wake up.
She used to tell herself love was fire—wild, demanding, always chasing the next spark.
But she knew deep in her that it was this.
A clean house. A sleepy girlfriend. Toothpaste kisses. The quiet relief of coming home and knowing it’s not temporary.
Love is Sana.
For so many years of her life, love has been her.
Now she got to fold socks and scrub glitter and joke about kisses with the woman she loved more than anything.
Her life finally made sense.
It had always been like this when she was with her. Minus the constant fear of losing her over her feelings, that she's finally free from now.
Because it used to be doubtful.
And Momo didn’t mean to disappear because of those doubts.
She told herself that every morning—eyes puffy from lack of sleep, the weight of the silence growing louder in her space. She never blocked Sana’s number. She just… stared at the screen when it lit up, heart hammering, thumb hovering. She wanted to answer. She really did.
But every time she thought of Sana’s voice on the other end, the ache swelled in her chest.
You kissed your best friend.
And it meant something to you.
What if it didn’t mean the same thing to her?
So she let the call die out.
And she let the next one go too.
By the third, she had memorized the ringtone and started locking her phone in her closet while she cried.
She poured everything into work. She sat for hours reworking a single button's hover state like it mattered more than anything else in the world. Her supervisor complimented her productivity. Her coworkers thought she was in the zone.
But Momo was rotting.
In the silence of her house, the light from her monitor painted shadows under her eyes. Half-eaten takeout boxes piled beside her. Her laundry stayed unfolded for weeks, some even unwashed.
There were nights she drank—cheap beer or anything, whatever was around, just never wine because it would just remind her of Sana. Other than that, it didn’t matter. She’d end up singing along to sad music on the streets. Loud, stupid, off-tune.
She visited Doyeon once, which was a blur. She had cried and called herself an idiot, Momo remembered that much.
“You’re in love with her.” Doyeon had said, “And you're honestly so stupid for running away because you know she could actually love you back. Just plain stupid, Momo.”
That had stuck.
She laughed it off then. Played the fool. But something about it struck truth to her nerves.
Because Sana had kissed her like she wanted to mean it. Like she didn’t know yet how deep she could go, but she would follow Momo into the dark anyway.
Momo was terrified of dark, however.
She couldn’t go back to being just her best friend. Not after feeling what it was like to be kissed like that.
But she also couldn’t bear the thought of losing her altogether. So instead, she rotted.
One night, two months into the waiting, she looked up at the ceiling of her house and muttered, “Give me a sign or something. I’m tired.”
Then she pulled on a jacket and stumbled down the street like a drunk teenager. Hauling a huge stock of alcohol like it was water. Singing loudly and stupidly on the pavement.
A man passed by and tossed her a coin like she was busking.
She laughed until she nearly cried.
And when she turned the corner to her street—still humming some old song about hopeless love and waiting endlessly—she looked up.
And there Sana was.
Standing outside her house, biting her lip. Looking like she had been pacing there for minutes, hours, maybe forever.
Momo stopped in her tracks.
The universe was definitely not subtle.
A year later, she would barely stay at her own house—helping Sana on regular days, sleeping over for weeks, only going home for things she needed, her things slowly migrating to Sana's place, and now, she's helping her do the laundry on a weekend.
She felt her butt getting slapped.
“Ow!” Momo groans as Sullyoon watches them in giggles.
“You always overload my washer, Momoring.”
“It’s not your washer,” Momo protests, rubbing her backside dramatically, “It’s our washer. We co-own everything now.”
“I don’t remember signing any documents.”
“Oh I’ll draft one tonight. Joint custody of the washer.”
“Unbelievable.”
Sana throws the towel at her, and Momo barely catches it, laughing. Sullyoon squeals beside them, kicking her feet from where she’s sitting on the floor, carefully folding the little socks into balls the way her mom taught her.
“You guys are so weird.” Sullyoon mumbles with a big grin, trying to mimic the way Sana folds shirts into neat rectangles. Sana giggles, leaning down to kiss the top of her head.
Momo grins at the sight. She wants to lean in too. Wants to hug them both, maybe even press her cheek into Sana’s shoulder for just a second. But she doesn’t. Not in front of Sullyoon.
She always knows when to stop herself.
Because Sullyoon doesn't know.
Not yet.
It’s not that they’re hiding it. Not really. It’s just… not out in the open either. And Momo knows that the shift from best friend to something else isn’t a small thing for a kid like Sullyoon, whose world had already tilted too many times. It takes patience. She gets it.
But it doesn’t mean it’s easy.
There have been moments.
Like the time she caught herself holding Sana’s hand too long while they walked down a grocery aisle, and Sullyoon turned her head with a scrunched nose and said, “Are you guys holding hands? That’s weird.”
Momo dropped Sana’s hand like it was on fire.
Or that time on movie night, when Sullyoon had fallen asleep sandwiched between them on the couch, and Sana rested her head on Momo’s shoulder. Momo had let her fingers drift into her hair, gentle and slow, brushing against her scalp like they always did in private. They were so used to it by then. But then Sullyoon stirred, and Momo had to pull her hand away like she’d done something wrong.
And the worst—when Momo had forgotten herself entirely, standing in the kitchen and kissing Sana’s neck while she was cooking. Sullyoon had burst in to ask for yogurt, and Sana had flinched so hard, she knocked the spatula off the pan. They spent the rest of the evening keeping a careful distance.
So now, even in moments like this—Sana tossing towels at her, Sullyoon’s bright laugh filling the hallway—Momo keeps one hand tucked into her pocket, the other occupied with a shirt she doesn’t remember folding. She smiles and jokes and fits into the scene like she belongs in it, because she does.
Sana makes sure to let her know that she does.
But life just needs a little adjustment.
Suddenly dating your best friend of thirty-two years isn't as easy as most people think.
Momo used to never care about crashing at Sana’s old house. She’d shamelessly rummage through their snack pantry even when her parents were home. They knew her by heart—her annoying workmates, her hopeless crushes, her favorite brand of chips. Being there was second nature. A second home.
But their first lunch together after Sana officially became her girlfriend?
It was hell.
Momo had practically tiptoed around the place, avoiding eye contact like her life depended on it.
“Momoring, can you help me unload the groceries?”
Sana was already out of the car, juggling bags. But Momo stayed frozen in the driver's seat, parked just across from Sana's parents’ house. Pale. Stiff. Definitely dying inside.
“Momo?” Sana called, peeking back. “Are you not moving?”
“I think I should go home, Sattang,” Momo muttered, swallowing hard. She didn’t even glance at the house.
“Oh, you wuss.” Sana rolled her eyes, tossed the car door open, and unlatched Momo’s seatbelt like she was rescuing her. And in a way, she was. “They don’t care. You’ve been here a million times.”
Before she could protest, Sana was tugging her out of the car, already ringing the doorbell.
“Hi mom, dad!” Sana beamed, hugging them both like it was the most normal day.
But for Momo, nothing was normal. She avoided eye contact like a military drill. She had to look at anything—the doorbell, the wooden house number, the screws on the gate—anything but the human beings standing in front of her.
“Momo, how are you?” Came her mom’s cheerful voice.
But Momo didn’t register it until Sana elbowed her. She jolted, bowed deeply like she was about to propose to the pavement, and heard Sana snort behind her. Her dad cleared his throat in that low, gravelly way that still haunted her in her nightmares.
They let it go, thankfully, and led them inside. Conversation flowed like normal, but Momo stayed quiet the whole time.
Lunch came and it was a spread—an actual feast. Sana’s mom made all the staples, even her favorite raw marinated crab. Usually, Momo would dig in first, mouth full before anyone sat down. But now? She couldn’t even lift her chopsticks.
“Momo, eat.” Sana’s mom said kindly, even offering her some meat.
“Thank you, Mom—” she coughed, face flushing, “Mrs. Minatozaki.”
The table erupted in laughter.
Her entire body flushed red. She wanted to curl up and become one of the legs of the table.
“Momo,” Her father suddenly says, “We know you're dating Sana.”
Her throat closed up. She choked on her own saliva and Sana had to rush to help her drink water.
“Yes, sir.” Momo rasped.
“Don’t make it awkward,” He said a bit too firmly. Or maybe that was just how he always sounded? Momo’s memory from that moment on? Gone. Fried. Obliterated.
“Don’t call me sir,” he added. “Just call me Dad. And call your mom as is.”
That was it. Nothing else was said about it that afternoon. No dramatic sit-down. No interrogation.
But Momo felt her life flash before her eyes every time someone made eye contact with her.
Apparently, the hardest part wasn’t keeping her crush on Sana a secret for years.
Being Sana’s girlfriend?
It was a whole new battlefield.
“Ah- right there! Don’t stop!”
Momo laughed under her breath, massaging Sana’s calf with both thumbs.
“You’re dramatic.”
“You’re so good with your hands.” Sana corrected, her voice a little muffled against the pillow. “You should open a massage parlor. Make us rich.”
“And give this magic to strangers?” Momo says, “Nope. Reserved for you only.” Sana hummed in pleasure.
“I should marry you soon.”
“You are getting the girlfriend package,” Momo teased, “But if you add wife benefits, I might do your taxes too.”
“I don't trust you.”
“Hey, I'm great at that.”
Before Sana could respond, Momo suddenly slumped forward and collapsed onto her back with a dramatic groan, pressing her full weight down.
“Get off!” Sana squeaked, half-laughing. “You’re heavy, you’re crushing my spine.”
“This is how I make you pay.” Momo muttered, snuggling into her shoulder.
“Momooo,” Sana twisted under her but didn’t really try to push her off, “You were doing so well.”
“I was distracted,” Momo said into her skin. “By how stupidly soft you are. I want to… sink into you.” Her words were interrupted when she started sniffing Sana's neck loudly.
They laughed into it, limbs tangling as Momo shifted to lie beside her. Their faces were close—nose to nose, and barely apart when they giggled in soft, shared bursts of breath. The sheets rustled gently as their legs remained intertwined.
“Did you see the article I sent you?” Momo asked after a pause.
“The one about how ancient people believed that sleeping next to someone makes your soul stick to theirs?”
“No,” Momo says, “The one where dogs can tell if you’re lying by your scent.”
“Oh please.”
“They can!” Momo's voice rose, “It’s this whole thing about stress hormones and sweat and how dogs can detect changes in your odor.”
“So you’re saying Sullyoon’s right. I smell bad when I lie.”
“She was onto you the whole time.” Momo traced Sana’s nose knowingly.
“She also asked me last night,” Sana murmured, her voice quieter, “Why you’re always here.”
Momo paused.
Sana didn’t notice right away. She was too busy smoothing her hair behind her ear, “She asked if you live here now.”
“You think she’s uncomfortable that I’m here?” Momo's teasing smile was slowly fading.
“She loves you, Momo.” Sana smiles, “She just doesn’t understand it yet. She’s barely ten. She doesn’t have the language for this kind of shift.”
Momo breathes.
“I know.” She says after a while, a hand reaching up to trace Sana’s collarbone absentmindedly, “I just get nervous sometimes. When she starts asking. Like she sees it now. Like she sees me in it now.”
“You are,” Sana replied, “You are in it.”
“I just want to do right for her.”
“You do, Momoring.”
Silence had settled in again, all before Sana leaned in to kiss Momo’s cheek. Momo turned her face at the last second to meet her lips instead. It was soft. Like a reminder.
“I had a dream once, of you kissing me.” Sana shifted slightly under the sheets, her voice a bit raspy from the whisper.
“Oh?” Momo perked up, eyebrows immediately raised. She drawled, already smoothing her palms over Sana’s stomach, “What kind of kiss are we talking here?”
Sana rolled her eyes, “It was just a peck.”
“Lame.” Momo clicked her tongue. “When was this?”
“The second night after you took me home from the accident,” Sana said, her fingers absently playing with Momo’s arm. “I didn’t think much of it back then.”
Momo was a bit surprised.
“Did you already like me by then?”
“I never knew,” Sana says honestly, “But I think I found out when I saw you being Sullyoon’s mom at the amusement park.”
“And you kissed me that night,” Momo chuckles, “Is that how you confront your newfound feelings, Sattang?”
Sana just chuckled, turning her face to nuzzle against Momo’s.
“You’ve always been good to me, I don’t need twenty more years to realize that.” she murmured, palming Momo’s face in one hand, thumb gently stroking her cheeks. “And you’re good to my daughter too.”
Momo’s heart clenched, a sharp tug that made her chest feel too full.
“I saw you in my life, without the need to,” Sana continued, “My ex-husband was in the picture because we shared a marriage and a daughter, and I had to fit him in because it was the default. Out of convenience.”
“But you,” Sana adds, “I didn’t need to think practically to fit you right in.”
Momo smiled.
“I love you, Momoring.”
“I love you, Sattang.” Momo whispered back, forehead resting gently against hers.
Momo had to thank her lucky stars,
For new beginnings with Sana.