Bully for Love
Seon Y/N never meant to laugh at Kim Taehyung in class, but one small slip-up turned into a rivalry that shook her entire school life. Ever since that day, they've been sworn enemies, their every encounter a battlefield of sharp words...
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(Y/N's POV)
Great, just great. If there's one thing I hate more than dealing with idiots at school, it's dealing with family drama. And right now, thanks to Grandpa's colossal screw-up, I'm knee-deep in it.
Let me break it down for you. My dear old Grandpa, who's supposed to be the "wise" patriarch of our family business, managed to royally mess something up. Surprise, surprise—he refuses to admit it (God I hate people who do that). Instead, he's pointing fingers at my dad, who now has to drop everything and trek all the way from Seoul to Daegu just to clean up his mess. And of course, Mom has to tag along because apparently, Dad can't boil water without setting the kitchen on fire.
So here I am, stuck at home with my charming younger brother, Kiyoung. Don't get me wrong, I love him—I guess—but he's a pain in the ass with a capital P. The only saving grace is that he's a domestic god in training. While I'd rather gnaw my own arm off than cook or clean, Kiyoung thrives on it. He's like Martha Stewart on steroids, only with more attitude and less patience.
So now, I'm Dad and Kiyoung is Mom. Isn't it just peachy?
I've got the delightful task of managing the outside chores, which basically means pretending to be civil with the neighbors and not scaring off delivery people. It's not that I can't talk to people—I can chat circles around them if I have to. The problem is, I'd rather not. Small talk feels like a waste of oxygen, and my resting face apparently screams "leave me alone." Kiyoung says I look constipated half of the time, so that should sum it up.
Meanwhile, Kiyoung's in the kitchen, whipping up something that smells suspiciously like edible food. He's humming some K-pop tune, probably from his latest obsession, as he dices vegetables with the precision of a surgeon. It's infuriating how effortlessly he slips into the role that's supposed to be mine, (according to my grandparents and also because I wanna learn how to cook but I'm too impatient). But hey, at least I won't starve.
"Y/N, could you take out the trash?" Kiyoung calls from the kitchen, his voice a mix of politeness and exasperation. "And maybe water the plants while you're at it?" Bossy asshole.
I roll my eyes, not bothering to hide my annoyance. "Sure thing, Mom," I mutter under my breath, loud enough for him to hear.
He chuckles, a sound that's way too amused for my liking. "Dad'll be back soon. And Mom, too," he adds pointedly.
I sigh, grabbing the trash bag and tying it off with more force than necessary. "Yeah, yeah. Just tell me when dinner's ready."
Kiyoung gives me a mock salute before returning to his culinary masterpiece. Meanwhile, I trudge outside, the early evening air cool against my skin. The neighbors wave as I pass, forcing me into obligatory smiles and brief conversations about the weather. It's all so... exhausting.
Back inside, after I dumped the trash and watered the plants with as much enthusiasm as a sloth on a Monday morning. Kiyoung's setting the table when I return, a satisfied grin on his face as he surveys his handiwork.
