WINRINA ONESHOTS

POLLAR OPPOSITES

Jimin Yoo leaned against the wall of the practice room, her arms crossed, watching as Minjeong Kim—her least favorite person in the world—moved effortlessly across the floor. Minjeong had always been good, too good, and Jimin hated that. She hated how Minjeong's every move seemed to flow like water, as if dancing were second nature to her.

But it wasn’t just her skill that got under Jimin’s skin. No, it was her attitude. Minjeong had an arrogance that radiated off her in waves, a confidence that made Jimin feel like she was constantly being overshadowed. And it didn’t help that everyone else in the group seemed to adore her.

The others were packing up for the night, but Minjeong and Jimin stayed behind. They’d agreed to work on their duet for the upcoming performance, though “agreed” might’ve been too strong a word. They were forced into it. Their manager thought their chemistry on stage would be something special—if only they could stop snapping at each other.

Jimin’s gaze followed Minjeong as she danced to the final notes of the track, the music blasting from the speaker. She had to admit that, despite everything, Minjeong was mesmerizing. But as soon as the music stopped, Jimin's face hardened again.

“Are you done showing off?” Jimin's voice was cold, breaking the silence. She pushed off the wall and stepped forward, eyes narrowing at the shorter girl. “Some of us actually want to work.”

Minjeong spun around, wiping the sweat from her forehead with the back of her hand. “Showing off? Please, Jimin. I’m just trying to get this right. You’d know that if you were actually paying attention instead of sulking in the corner.”

Jimin’s jaw tightened. “Sulking? I’m not sulking.”

“Right,” Minjeong muttered, rolling her eyes. “Because you’ve been such a joy to be around lately.”

“Maybe if you didn’t act like you were better than everyone, we wouldn’t have a problem,” Jimin shot back, stepping closer, her voice rising in frustration. They were inches apart now, and the tension between them was thick enough to cut through.

Minjeong squared her shoulders, refusing to back down. “I don’t act like I’m better than anyone. You’re just mad because I’m better than you at this.”

Jimin’s fists clenched at her sides, her anger bubbling to the surface. She knew Minjeong was baiting her, but it worked. It always did. “You know what, Minjeong? You’re impossible. If you weren’t so stuck-up—”

“Stuck-up?” Minjeong interrupted, her eyes blazing. “Maybe you’re just too sensitive! Not everything’s a personal attack, Jimin. Maybe the problem isn’t me, it’s your own insecurities.”

Jimin’s breath hitched, and for a moment, she was stunned into silence. Insecure? Was that what Minjeong thought of her? The word hung in the air like a slap, and Jimin felt her chest tighten. She opened her mouth to retaliate, but no words came out. Instead, she turned on her heel and stormed toward the door.

“I’m done,” she muttered under her breath, grabbing her bag. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

Minjeong watched her leave, the adrenaline from the argument still coursing through her veins. She exhaled sharply, running a hand through her sweat-dampened hair. “Great,” she whispered to herself. “Just great.”

---

The Next Day

Jimin sat in the dressing room, tying the laces on her sneakers with unnecessary force. Her thoughts from the night before kept replaying in her mind. She hated how Minjeong always knew exactly what to say to get under her skin. More than that, she hated how it worked. But there was something else—something she didn’t want to admit. As much as she despised Minjeong, there was an undeniable chemistry between them when they performed together. It was electric, and the audience felt it every time.