Archive of Our Own

Chaeryeong doesn’t know what’s happening but she realizes quite easily that she doesn’t like it. 

“I can’t believe they stayed,” Yuna’s voice filters in from behind her. 

Someone would think she was pulled with a hook off the Music Core stage and hadn’t zoomed off as quickly as Chaeryeong with how she’s poking out her bottom lip, eyes cast to where their other members are objectively having fun. Jisu hadn’t even stuck around to watch, heading for the dressing room as soon as she stepped out of camera view. 

One of Yuna’s hands circles Chaeryeong’s wrist, all nervous energy as she shifts from one foot to the next like a child asking for their mom’s permission. “They look like they’re having so much fun…”

“They look dumb,” Chaeryeong says under her breath.  

Ryujin, in particular, looks really dumb in her gigantic green shirt and two-toned hair that the stylists would only ever think to give Ryujin. It dwarfs her, and the shorts and thigh-high boots don’t help any. Yeji at the very least has some couth about it, singing a little of the Savage opening with Giselle before excusing herself politely. Their perfect leader, Yeji. But Ryujin…

It’s a running gag between the five of them—always has to be the center of attention, ITZY’s own personal Tinkerbell—but this is bold and shameless in a way Ryujin usually isn’t with people she doesn’t know well. 

Chaeryeong watches as she practically falls over herself to get to Karina, bumping their shoulders together as she holds her by her side and gestures to the camera. It’s not shocking that Karina finds this as charming as everyone else does. The sky is blue. Ryujin is easy to love. The familiarity and ease, however, strike Chaeryeong as out of place. 

The hand around her wrist starts to gently tug her away. “Maybe we could’ve stayed.”

“It’s just good manners to leave,” she says as firmly as she can but doesn’t allow herself to be pulled away. Like watching a car crash, she has to see it through to its natural conclusion. “Yuna, we don’t even know them.” 

But Karina laughs at Ryujin’s show, something undeniably warm in her eyes, and it’s—weird. It’s like pressing the wrong key on the piano. Discordant but in a way that was so close to being right, you could almost convince yourself there was nothing wrong at all. Almost. Chaeryeong realizes, an ugly feeling creeping up inside, that she must’ve missed something there. 

Karina casts a secret smile over her shoulder as Ryujin waves goodbye, and it’s weird. 

It really only lasts a few seconds, it feels like it lasts forever. 

Living in separate dorms was far from Chaeryeong’s mind when they first debuted. 

It took a while, but she got used to the sound of Yeji leaving their room during the night, only to return with a bunch of snacks, and walking in on Jisu using the bathroom because she never closes the damn door, and Yuna always bursting into her room without knocking. They were always right up under each other, unintentionally pushing each other’s buttons and unspoken boundaries. Since they’re such a small group Chaeryeong assumed she’d be stuck with this situation for at least five years and made her peace. 

But she’s not complaining, having her own space again has given her peace of mind she hasn’t had since Paris. Her room is tidy and smells like a Bath and Body Works and she turns the lights out when she’s ready. She’s literally never been happier. 

And the space allows her to stew in her irritation alone. She kept her eyes closed and pretended to sleep on the way back to the dorm, unable to shake the weird sensation in her stomach. She let the post-show chatter filter in and out of her ears until their manager was shaking her awake. 

Even with Yeji trailing after her, the full appreciation of having her own room hits again once the door closes behind them.

Yeji never cleaned, which was bad enough, but she also slept late and didn’t like the smell of Chaeryeong’s aromatherapy candles so she had to stop buying them at one point. It was a stressful year, to say the least. She almost did something that could’ve altered their group dynamic forever. 

Chaeryeong is already changing into pajamas when their leader opens her mouth to say something. She beats her to it by a hair. “I’m kind of tired so I don’t think I’ll be much fun tonight. Sorry.” 

Yeji blinks in shock as if Chaeryeong is speaking a different language. She shakes her head before stepping closer to her with a misplaced gentleness, like one would with a skittish cat in an alley.  

“What are you talking about? That’s not why I came.” Yeji frowns. She drops her hands on Chaeryeong’s tense shoulders, fingers pressing softly into the muscle there. 

Stubborn eyeliner is smudged around her tired eyes, and her hair damp from the rain sticks to her neck in short brown tufts. It looks so pretty like this though. “I just wanted to make sure that you’re not getting in your head about today. It’s okay that we didn’t win, you know. We’ve done really well.”

The urge to laugh in Yeji’s face is sudden and hard to suppress but she manages just barely, grimacing. Chaeryeong wasn’t expecting them to win with a song they’ve been promoting for over a month that’s sort of charting well. “I’m not in my head about that. I promise I’m just tired.” 

Yeji gives her a look that says she doesn’t quite believe her but knows better than to push it. 

The small part of Chaeryeong that, for some reason, thinks it needs others’ help almost wishes she would push it if only to try to make sense of what she’s feeling. The larger, more sensible part doesn’t really want to give voice to what’s really bothering her. Doesn’t want to talk about the embarrassing encore stage, or how Yuna and Yeji couldn’t stop talking about the Aespa girls all through taking their makeup off and shuffling into the van, how Chaeryeong could feel her agitation growing under her skin with every passing moment in the van. 

She wishes losing a silly trophy was the beginning and end of her frustrations. 

The only thing Yeji can offer her after that clear shutdown is a hug so tight Chaeryeong feels herself become jelly in her arms. The jumper Yeji threw on after the encore feels amazing against her skin, soft grey cotton that she buries her face in. If she’s lucky she’ll sink right into her skin until they just merge, saving Chaeryeong from having to think ever again. She fully trusts Yeji to take care of both of them. 

Though, if they did merge then Yeji would probably have access to all of her thoughts, and then she would know for certain that there might be one thing about tonight’s show that Chaeryeong can’t stop thinking about. It’s tiny —truly insignificant and not even worth mentioning, really—but if asked, she would probably trade back Jisu’s overfamiliarity and Yeji’s messiness in a heartbeat. She could handle all of the headaches and general lack of privacy, every single argument that Yuna starts and Ryujin can’t let go of, if she never had to hear Jimin unnie fall from Ryujin’s mouth in that nauseatingly starstruck way ever again. 

🪞

The promotion cycle dies down and so do their schedules. 

It’s not like there isn’t work being done, the company gives them all little things to do—content for YouTube, duo vlogs, solo vlogs, photoshoots—and they’re fun for the time being, but it’s not the same. The last interesting thing they did was Voltage, but even that was filmed months ago and had little to no promotions. Everything feels stale and redundant. She can feel how they’re all slowly growing disenchanted with the lifestyle they’ve chosen with each fleeting schedule.

Chaeryeong is scrolling through some replies on Bubble when her door creaks open. It’s dark in the hallway behind Ryujin, not a sliver of light in the stillness of the night, though Chaeryeong doubts Yuna is asleep already. It’s only eleven o’clock, but their dorm feels quieter than usual. 

Ryujin doesn’t say anything as she turns off the lights in the room and shuts the door. She pads over to the bed, climbing over Chaeryeong to get to her self-designated side. The smell of citrus hits Chaeryeong's nose like a wall. They use the same body wash but Ryujin’s skin always smells just like the tangerines she likes eating. 

Chaeryeong yelps after receiving a stray elbow to the side. Ryujin chuckles softly, her small hands finding the assaulted area and rubbing it in apology. Chaeryeong shivers at the other’s sleep shirt tickling her arm, soft but thin. 

“Alright,” she says before pushing her hand away, starting to feel uncomfortable with being warm all over. 

Ryujin is like a furnace next to her, giving off heat as if her sole purpose is to make Chaeryeong sweat. It’s nice, if not a bit inconvenient in the middle of the night when she’s strayed a bit too far away in her sleep, leaving Chaeryeong colder and lonelier than when she fell asleep. Even the hand that returns to her side feels a lot like hot coals burning into her, but pushing her away again would be futile. Ryujin is nothing if not sensitive about things like that.

“Yuna’s sleeping already?” 

Ryujin makes a noise like a scoff, squirming around trying to get comfortable. “Doubt it. I think she said something about watching a movie with Jisu unnie.”

“Poor kid,” Chaeryeong sighs, rolling over to plug her phone in at the side of her bed, checking to see if her alarms are set before setting it down for the night. “I guess we’ve all been there though.” 

“Been where?” Ryujin asks, throwing one of her arms around Chaeryeong’s torso. “In love with Jisu unnie?” 

“No, well–” Yes, but that’s a given. “I meant in love with a straight girl.” 

“Says the straight girl in question,” Ryujin laughs at her own joke, not missing a beat, her arms flying out to shield herself from Chaeryeong’s responding assault. “Okay, I’m sorry. Ow! I said sorry!”

“Don’t be a dick. I open my bed to you and this is what I get in return.”

“Stop opening your bed to me if you don’t want to get teased.” 

Chaeryeong just grumbles in response, poking at Ryujin’s stomach just to see her writhe in discomfort. Her body is firm under her fingertips, coarse too from where she forgot to apply lotion to after her shower. Ryujin catches the offending hand in hers and slips her fingers through Chaeryeong’s until she can press into her knuckles there. 

Ryujin goes quiet, just rubbing firm circles into her joints, and Chaeryeong wonders if she’s waiting for her to say something to that. But what can she say without sounding cruel or pathetic? Both of which she’s not willing to be with her. 

Then Ryujin takes a deep breath and says, “I try to give Yuna the benefit of the doubt. We all should.”

“Okay?” Chaeryeong murmurs but it comes out like a question. She has literally never seen Ryujin give Yuna grace ever but she can tell Ryujin is building up to something bigger in her head. She just has to give her time to get there.

She continues fiddling with Chaeryeong’s fingers. “Because closeness can like genuinely fuck with your head, you know? There are days when you guys feel like my whole world, and sometimes it feels like I will always know you all better than I ever know anyone else, and the line between friendly and something more can get so blurry when it feels like that. I can’t even imagine how much worse it is for Yuna. She was a baby when she met us. I don’t know. I guess what I’m trying to say is that her feelings are valid.” 

She stops her fidgeting, letting their hands rest in the space between them. “It could be really easy to feel in love with any one of you, probably.”

Chaeryeong can’t see her well, she’s nothing more than eyes and teeth and soft breaths in the dark, but her voice rings uncharacteristically solemn in her ears. It’s freaky how honest Ryujin can manage to be when the lights are off. Their nightly conversations often veer off into a deeper, more personal realm like this. It’s much easier for both of them when the other’s face is obscured into nothingness, but this makes something in Chaeryeong’s stomach turn. Mostly because she gets it, mostly because she hates that she does.

She tries for a laugh but her throat feels dry. “I think you guys all need to invest in therapy.”

“Pot, meet kettle,” Ryujin says and, because she’s a child at heart, bends Chaeryeong’s fingers back until it hurts, causing her to yelp again and snatch her hand away. “I can’t believe you guys were cuddling without me.” 

It takes a moment for Chaeryeong to even recall what Ryujin is referencing, but then she remembers Ryujin finding her and Yeji wrapped around each other after they all ate dinner together earlier, her face twisting up and straightening out in seconds before she just walked away. 

“You could have joined,” she points out in a whisper. “We would’ve made room.”

Her hand reaches for the spot on Ryujin’s hip where her tattoo rests, a small star and moon in simple black ink that got her a month-long social media ban. She likes running her fingers over it when they talk like this, half-expecting the skin to still be raised like when she first got it, but this clunky, guilt-like feeling stops her just short of contact. 

Ryujin comes to Chaeryeong like this to get her frustrations off her chest because she trusts her to listen, not make dumb jokes at her expense. She can’t help but feel like she’s ruined something here, her heartbeat quick and shallow in her ears. 

Ryujin grunts, turning over to face the wall. “Not the point.” 

“Oh?” Chaeryeong doesn’t really know what the point is if not that. 

The uncertainty only builds the further into the year they get, fizzles and cracks under Chaeryeong’s skin like an exposed wire, leaving her restless in a way that not even Yeji can remedy. 

She needs to be on stage. She needs time to rest. She needs her family. She needs her members. She needs fame and attention and to be adored. She needs to fade into obscurity, never to be perceived again. 

The dorm has become a ghost town too, which only makes every little anxiety feel bigger and more important. Thoughts bounce off the walls like an echo chamber in there. Jisu and Yuna spend almost every day glued to each other’s side, far from the dorm, and Ryujin has been splitting her time between her house and an ambiguous location that is not-home and not-dorm. 

Her finsta story has been suspiciously quiet too, not that Chaeryeong has been checking—obviously—though it’s not hard for her to fill in the gaps. Every time Ryujin laughs at something on her phone lately, Chaeryeong knows it's Jimin who sent the funny text. Jimin who Ryujin leaves the dorm early and returns late for. Jimin that has been occupying all of her best friend’s time these past few weeks. 

“You could just call her. You know she would drop everything to hang with you, you just never want to go anywhere.” Chaeyeon eyes her strangely, coming around the counter with Chaeryeong’s cup of tea in hand. She slides it over to her and Chaeryeong thanks her quietly, not even bothering to deny what she said. It’s not quite a lie. 

The only good thing about this unofficial break is that she gets to spend more time with her sister, who might be the only person that really understands what she’s feeling, even if it’s different. Chaeyeon is good at letting her talk until her head is empty without making her feel dumb or immature about it. Except for right now, apparently. 

“She usually calls me,” she says because, to her, this explains it all. 

Her sister squints at her. “You never call her first?” Chaeryeong shrugs under Chaeyeon’s glare before giving a small shake of her head. “Text?” Depends. “Email? Carrier pigeon? Smoke signal? That poor girl…” 

“We usually talk in person, we literally live together,” she explains after taking a sip. It’s bitter but she keeps a tight lip about it. Chaeyeon is not afraid of hitting her. “And she gets bored at home by herself so she always calls first. It’s not like I’m doing it on purpose.” 

But it’s almost been a week since Chaeryeong left the dorm and her phone hasn’t lit up with Ryujin’s name once. There haven’t been any Facetime calls interrupting her Netflix binges or 3 AM message spams begging Chaeryeong to visit her island on Animal Crossing. Not even a tiktok or two or ten with a text saying check what I sent on tiktok rn to follow. 

To be frank, it’s a little annoying. Why make her expect something only to take it away without warning? 

“You’re so mean to her,” Chaeyeon tuts, making her disapproval obvious. She’s cutting up some apples and white peaches now though her messy hair keeps falling in her face. The white t-shirt she’s wearing has several toothpaste stains on it, completing the whole recently unemployed thing she has going on. She looks ridiculous. This is the person Chaeryeong regularly confides in and looks up to. 

“Why should I when she already set the precedent that she’ll reach out first? Is nothing sacred?” Chaeyeon hits her. Some of the tea splashes out of her mug and onto the counter. Chaeryeong whines loudly, pointing at the mess and grabbing her own arm. “Unnie.”   

“You literally just got over your sexuality crisis and this is the hill you’re willing to die on?” 

Chaeryeong takes back what she said earlier. Nothing good can ever come from opening up to a sister. 

“Why do you have to bring that up?” She sputters, embarrassed. She would hardly call it a crisis. “That has nothing to do with this.” 

“I believe that you believe that.” Her sister nails her with a look that makes Chaeryeong feel weighed and measured. Then she breaks, rolling her eyes just once before she softens. 

“Listen, relationships aren’t fixed, they change all the time – trust me. All I’m saying is that if you miss her, you should call her,” Chaeyeon says finally with a sigh. The way she says it makes it sound obvious. 

Therein lies the problem though. Nothing about navigating her friendship with Ryujin feels obvious to Chaeryeong. 

She pushes the plate of cut fruit in front of Chaeryeong. They’re cut a little wonky but it's the thought that counts. 

“I don’t miss her,” Chaeryeong decides but even to her, it sounds funny on the way out. It’s true though, she says to herself as she grabs a wet wipe to clean the spill. 

Chaeryeong doesn’t miss Ryujin. Chaeryeong doesn’t need Ryujin’s attention to survive. 

She was almost sure Ryujin needed hers though.  

Two nights later at exactly 10:22 PM, Ryujin posts a picture to her finsta story. 

The reason why Chaeryeong knows the exact time is unimportant and she will not elaborate if asked. Fifteen minutes feels like an appropriate amount of time to wait before opening the app to check, which gives her enough time to finish this episode of Transit Love.

She’s not surprised to see Jimin’s face crop up, decorated with those corny gifs Ryujin likes and a caption that reads Yu Jimin is a Smash Bros legend, but that weird feeling grows in her chest anyway. Legend feels excessive. Chaeryeong doesn’t even know how to really play the game and has turned down every one of Ryujin’s requests because of that, but even she knows there’s no real skill to it. She could easily do the same thing.

In fact, why didn’t Ryujin just ask her first? 

She pulls up their messages on her phone. The last text was from a week ago when Ryujin got curious about the secret of bread making and thought Chaeryeong had the answers for some reason. She indulged in her for as long as humanly possible. 

: is nothing sacred?

She stares at it hard before hitting the backspace. 

: hey did you finish the new episode yet?

Delete. 

: i could learn how to beat you in smash bros too if you taught me.
i’d even learn to play league maybe.
i don’t know. text me.

She’s definitely not sending that. 

The feeling grows the more she thinks about the story and fiddles with her phone, unable to find the right words to express herself without sounding, well, pathetic. She can feel it in her throat and her eyes and the heat of her ears; can feel it digging into her, burrowing deep in her skin. 

Ryujin used to say things like I only have Chaeryeong all the time. She said it just before they debuted when Chaeryeong braved the rain to get a bedridden Ryujin samgyetang. With their sweaty backs pressed to the practice room mirror, limbs weighed down with lead but Chaeryeong still made her drink water. Every single time Chaeryeong went out of her way to get her utensils when she didn’t need to, pass her a blanket to cover up, let her sneak into her bed with thoughts too overwhelming to keep to herself. It was just a stupid throwaway line, a placeholder for thank you, but Chaeryeong remembers loving it. 

Ryujin doesn’t say it much anymore, and she doesn’t know if that’s because she stopped overextending herself or because it isn’t only Chaeryeong anymore. 

Her phone screen eventually turns off and she doesn’t bother reaching for it again.

Ryujin doesn’t call for the rest of the break. 

🪞

The most frustrating thing about all of this, Chaeryeong realizes, is that while she carries this new feeling, everything else seems to remain largely unchanged. 

She stares at herself in the big practice room mirrors, and with the exception of her breath coming out hard and a thin layer of sweat, she appears no different than before. Her skin is still pale, her arms are still long and toned, moles still dark and unmoving. There’s no gaping hole through her chest or cloud over her head. There is nothing tangible that she can point to and go, “that! That’s the problem.” 

It’s just how she feels and her feelings aren’t facts, they’re just feelings. Like with most things that have to do with Ryujin, she’s ignoring it. 

Out of her peripheral, she sees a figure moving closer to her but she stubbornly doesn’t turn her head. Everyone usually stays on their phones during breaks from practicing, conversation is rare and generally unwelcomed because they all get weirdly particular about choreography. She and Yeji get really specific about the details while Ryujin takes all of her frustration out on Yuna, who never goes down without a fight. Jisu is their only saving grace in the sense that if their argument feels too serious, she’ll make them all hug it out and they all hate that so the fight usually ends there. 

Minimal conversation works well for them. 

Ryujin slides up next to her, breaking another unspoken rule because she knows no boundaries. She knows nothing. She has on the same Adidas athleisure from a few weeks ago and a green cap, her dark hair in a low bun. Chaeryeong is convinced that if she could wear the same thing every day like a cartoon character, she would. Their eyes meet in the mirror. 

“Hey, stranger.”

“Stranger?” Chaeryeong repeats, dropping to the floor to massage her calf. She felt a knot forming as practice went on but gritted her teeth through it. The show must go on and all that. “What does that mean?” 

“Nothing. You’ve just been away.” Ryujin follows her to the ground, slapping away Chaeryeong’s fingers that are trying and failing to rub out the knot before replacing them with her own. Ryujin’s hands are smaller than hers, but her fingers are strong and deft from all of those video games she likes to play. 

She looks up at Chaeryeong, eyebrows pinched as her thumb runs along the skin of Chaeryeong’s calf. “Where?” 

Chaeryeong points at the spot reluctantly. “And you haven’t?” 

Ryujin chuckles lightheartedly, beginning to knead into skin. “I guess I have. It feels different this time though. We hardly spoke.” 

“Hm. I hadn’t noticed.” She recoils when Ryujin pinches her, her scream alerting the rest of the members. Yeji squints at them in warning and they both send her sheepish smiles. “Hey, careful with the merchandise.” 

“Liar.” She’s smiling to herself smugly as she says it, grabbing Chaeryeong’s leg again to continue working the knot out. It would be annoying if Chaeryeong didn’t find it endearing. Find her endearing. Her smile only doubles at the small sound Chaeryeong lets out when Ryujin’s fingers strike gold. “What are you doing after this?”

“Depends, who’s asking?” 

“Very funny.” Ryujin laughs again but it sounds hollow. The fingers on her leg start to feel more punitive than relaxing, digging deep into the soft parts of her muscle. “No plans with Yeji unnie?” 

“Not that I know of,” Chaeryeong feels like the words come out extra slow, cautious almost. She winces at a twinge in her calf. “Ow, sore now. Thanks.”

Ryujin stops massaging but doesn’t move away, hand wrapped around her calf. Her face looks contemplative for a moment, mouth pursed like when she’s working something out in her head. “Come out with me.”  

“What. Why?” Chaeryeong always goes back to the dorm after practice, puts on a face mask, and then calls it a night. They all know this. She really thought the question was just conversation fodder. 

“Because you missed me.” Ryujin rolls her eyes, a goofy grin quickly taking over her face. “Duh. Come on, it’ll be unnie’s treat.”

“It’s insane that you carry a head so big with you everywhere you go,” Chaeryeong mutters, turning away from her and her knowing eyes, ears burning.

It must’ve been when they were both fifteen and awkward and unsure if they were more friends than rivals to each other and Chaeryeong had been a little scared of noticing something about Ryujin that she’d rather not. Whether she was more charismatic than her, or if she was a better singer or dancer, if she’d outlive her in the industry. If she’d fare better in the public eye, shine more, be more. She thinks it must’ve been then that she decided to never let her eyes linger on Ryujin. Now, it’s just become a habit.

Ryujin's laugh echoes in the practice room, and it clashes with the sound of Yeji’s clapping, signaling the end of their break and that conversation. 

Saturday night is the worst possible night to go out if you don’t already have a reservation. Everyone knows this. Everyone. Ryujin is either aware and doesn’t care or unaware and not very smart. Either way, by the time their manager drops them off, Chaeryeong is already regretting saying yes (read: being coerced) when Ryujin cornered her after practice with the same proposal.  

The place they go to isn’t too crowded by Ryujin’s luck alone. She even manages to sweet-talk them into a table tucked into a corner, far from prying eyes, which is surprising but entirely on-brand of Ryujin. The restaurant has a lot of dark, wooden furniture with dim lights at each corner of the seating area. A candle sits at the center of each table but doesn’t help much with being able to see the menu. It’s cozy and intimate—surprisingly, it’s exactly the kind of place Chaeryeong would choose herself. 

“How did you even find out about this place?” she asks as she takes in her surroundings, the sight of the modest but romantic environment satisfies something inside of her she can’t name. 

“Jimin unnie told me about it.” Oh.

“Oh,” she murmurs, looking down at her menu. The candle doesn’t really help any with reading, but hopefully its dimness aids in concealing the face she’s making. “You guys came here?” 

“Nope. When she told me about it, I just thought it looked like something you’d be into so…” She lifts her head up from her menu to look at Ryujin. Ryujin is already looking at her, smile soft and familiar. Her cap is still on, obscuring the top of her face but Chaeryeong has had every minute detail of Ryujin’s face memorized since she was eighteen, right down to the uncanny placement of the moles around her eyes. She knows what her eyes look like and she’s glad she can’t see them. “Wanted to come with you.” 

“Oh,” she says again, shifting uncomfortably in her seat, a nervous laugh escaping her. Her knees knock against Ryujin’s. She doesn’t know why she’s nervous. It’s just Ryujin. “I don’t know what to get, it’s too dark to read the menu.” 

Ryujin hums consideringly. “I’ve heard the naengmyeon is really good here. I think you’d like it,” she suggests. Chaeryeong nods wordlessly. Fine, whatever, just stop looking at her like that. “Do you want a drink?”

She feels herself perk up at the mention. Ryujin watches her in amusement. “Should we? We have practice tomorrow too…” 

“Yeah, but can you imagine Yeji unnie’s face when we both walk in hungover?” She laughs, raising her hand to flag down a waiter. Then as an afterthought adds, “again.” 

Their food comes quickly after they put their order in. Ryujin gets them two of the same meal, one spicy and one not, with a bottle of makgeolli and sides to share. It’s not until the food is right in front of her that Chaeryeong realizes that she’s actually pretty hungry. Ryujin pops her hand into her own bowl and pulls out a piece of ice to munch on. 

“You’re a child.” Chaeryeong shakes her head, picking up her chopsticks and ignoring the cheeky smile Ryujin sends her. 

“Don’t act like you don’t love it.” 

“I will neither confirm nor deny,” she says, already reaching to wipe away the soup on Ryujin’s chin. “You’re a mess.” 

Ryujin gives her that kitty smile, all cheeks and dimples, and Chaeryeong thinks she’s gonna fix her mouth to say it. I only have Chaeryeong, say it. 

They dig into their food and drink like they don’t have work the next day, trading conversation and laughter until it’s just a feedback loop of giggles. Ryujin brings up the last episode of Transit Love and they spend a solid half hour just breaking it down part by part, discussing their favorite scenes and least favorite people. Chaeryeong watches as Ryujin’s face becomes more flushed and laughs drunkenly when she gets so hot, she has to remove her hat and her bangs are stuck flat to her forehead with sweat. 

For a moment, it feels like they’re just two college students enjoying a meal after class or something. Thinking about it sends a pang through her heart, right through a cavity she hadn’t known was there in the first place. She could’ve gone to college if she wanted to, but everyone told her it wouldn’t have been the same. She agreed. University would have been the same fragmented experience as high school, tearing herself apart trying to be in two places at once. Chaeryeong has always been a shoddy student because of it and if she went to college, she’d want to at least have a fighting chance to do well. 

Ryujin nudges her shin with her foot.

“You got quiet.” Her words come out muffled from how full of rice her cheeks are. It’s cute and a little gross. “Whatcha thinking?”

Chaeryeong purses her lips, wondering if it's worth burdening her. She settles on, “do you really want to know?” 

“That’s what I just said.”

“But do you really, really wanna know?” Ryujin arches a brow at her, suspicious, but nods anyway so Chaeryeong tells her. She takes her time responding, stuffing another large spoonful of food into her mouth. “No one is going to take it from you. You can slow down.”

Her foot connects with Chaeryeong’s shin harder this time. She already polished off the last of her noodles a while ago. Chaeryeong is still working on hers, but she’s feeling herself get full.  

“Do you think we would’ve known each other if we didn’t train together? Like what if we were still dorming together in another life?” Ryujin asks after swallowing, leaning forward conspiratorially, making Chaeryeong laugh. She finds herself leaning in too, like they’re both in on a secret. 

“Cursed with you in two lifetimes is just cruel.” 

Ryujin ignores her. “What would you have studied if you went?”

“Early education.” She doesn’t even have to think about it. Being a teacher has always been in the back of her mind, she thinks she’d be pretty good at it. “With a psychology minor.”

The impressed hum Ryujin does is exaggerated but makes Chaeryeong crack a smile nonetheless. “What about you?”

“Something cool,” she says, looking up as she thinks. “Like…drama or geology or something.”

“Geology?” 

Ryujin frowns at her tone. “What. It’s a thing that people study. Rocks are cool.” 

“I’m sure,” Chaeryeong snorts, taking another pull of noodles from her bowl before pushing the rest toward Ryujin. She takes it happily. “How are you a loser in this universe too?” 

“Jagiya,” she says placidly, taking Chaeryeong’s hand in her own over the table. Touchy touchy touchy. Chaeryeong feels one touch away from her skin flying off her body. “You know how I feel when you make fun of the things I’m interested in. Say rocks are cool.”

“I will not.” 

“Say rocks are cool,” she repeats, more insistent, pulling Chaeryeong’s chair closer to the table as she locks their feet together. 

Chaeryeong feels her face get hot. “Cut it out, what if people–” 

Ryujin looks around as if to say what people. There are only a few people in the restaurant but they’re far enough that Chaeryeong can’t hear any of their conversations, so she doubts they can hear hers. But still. They’re JYPE idols, not that that ever mattered to Ryujin. 

Ryujin places her elbows on the table, leaning in, a challenge in her eyes. Why is she so close? “What if they do? What are you scared of?”

“People thinking I’d be with someone as lame as you,” Chaeryeong counters, forcing herself to stay still in her seat and meet Ryujin’s eyes finally. She refuses to lose a game of gay chicken to Shin Ryujin of all people. “Also, do I strike you as someone who is fond of PDA? I feel like that’s something you would know if you cared.”

“Oh, so now I’m a bad girlfriend because I can’t remember one little thing,” Ryujin sniffs, looking genuinely hurt by this. Her face has become romantic in its soft roundness, and the makgeolli has unwound her entirely, making her seem softer than she is. Chaeryeong is scared to blink and have the mirage disappear in front of her eyes. 

“I’d want someone who pays attention to me like that,” she mumbles, then hiccups. “Don’t I deserve that much?”

“You do,” Ryujin concedes easily, squinting. “But I feel like you’re asking me for something you already have. All I do is pay attention to you.” 

Her eyes droop in a way that makes them less intense but no less likely to stare, so it should be no big deal. Except the light from the small candle in the center of the table is striking every part of Ryujin’s face perfectly, making an already pretty girl look breathtaking. Ryujin keeps inching closer too because she’s lost her damn mind and forgotten who they are and where they are, and fuck—Chaeryeong really can’t do this. 

“You’re so full of it.”

Ryujin's eyes widen imperceptibly, startling a laugh out of her. “Yeah.”

Chaeryeong sucks her teeth, leaning back in her seat before taking a long sip from her cup. Ryujin looks stupidly pleased with herself. “Chicken.”

Then something catches her eyes and she stands abruptly, knees knocking against the table on her way up. Chaeryeong watches her sway on her feet comically before following her line of sight. 

There’s a photo booth sitting in the back of the restaurant.  

Ryujin quickly finishes the rest of the food and pays the bill before ushering Chaeryeong toward the booth. Standing only makes the fuzzy, warm feeling worse, but she makes an effort to get inside in one piece before collapsing half on Ryujin’s lap in the seat. 

“Hey, did we drink any water?” 

“I don’t remember,” Ryujin laughs, pulling her hair down from its tie. “Probably?” But she doesn’t sound so sure. 

She fluffs her hair around until it looks unkempt, the grown-out part of her bangs sticking out weirdly. Chaeryeong tuts, smoothing the dark strands out, silky to the touch from being left alone for a while. 

“There,” she murmurs, watching the way Ryujin’s eyes cross to follow the way she moves her bangs. Cute. 

Chaeryeong’s eyes close without her permission while Ryujin toggles with the screen, probably choosing a cheesy frame for their strips. If she had more energy, she would bicker with her for the sake of it but her head rests too comfortably in the curve of Ryujin’s neck. She smells heavily of tangerines and the lotion Jisu gifted her last Christmas, it takes every ounce of willpower Chaeryeong has not to nibble on her skin. That would be weird. 

“Hey, get up. It’s ready,” Ryujin says softly, easing Chaeryeong into an upright position despite her whining. “C’mon let’s do a silly one.”

So they do. Then they do a sexy one and another where they’re hugging each other so close, Chaeryeong can feel each breath leave Ryujin’s chest. For the last one, Chaeryeong suggests bumping their foreheads together, vaguely remembering seeing it on Pinterest, but Ryujin gives her a weird look when she points to her forehead. 

The uncertainty feels like it passes over her face in slow motion, her eyes unable to find one spot to focus on. Tracking the movement of her eyes makes Chaeryeong feel sick though, so she gives up easily. She’s about a second away from asking what the hell her problem is when Ryujin makes a decision. 

Both of her hands find either side of Chaeryeong’s face, cupping her cheeks to very gently angle her head down, and then she presses her lips to Chaeryeong’s forehead as the machine’s countdown starts 3, 2, 1…

The machine whirs loudly, startling Chaeryeong out of her momentary shock. She feels at her chest to make sure the gaping hole still isn’t there (it isn’t) and then looks at Ryujin as if to ask for confirmation. 

“Why are you looking at me like that?”

“You–you kissed me!” she says smartly, laughing skittishly. 

“What are you, five?” 

The brief glare Ryujin cuts her snaps her spine straight. It’s not a face often directed at her so its appearance makes Chaeryeong feel like she’s done something wrong. She frowns. Well, now she just feels silly for even saying it. 

The photo strips finish printing and drop down into the slot on the outside of the booth. They huddle together to look, and within a second of seeing them, Chaeryeong already knows that these are her favorite of the many photo booth pictures they’ve taken together. The frame is, in fact, super corny and the pictures all came in black and white because it’s one of those booths that only shoot on film. 

It’s so obvious that they’re way past tipsy, but they look happy and full and the last picture makes her stomach do this crazy flip-flop thing. That might also just be the alcohol though. 

Ryujin knocks their shoulders together. She’s smiling at the pictures too. “Do you wanna post it?”

“Hm?” She didn’t even think about that. 

To her surprise, she finds that she doesn’t. She doesn’t want to share this Ryujin with anybody else, not even the twenty-three followers on her finsta. It feels like a whisper shared over a candlelit dinner, clandestine and a little wrong. Is it so bad that tonight she just wants to be a pretend psych major? And she wants Ryujin as her terrible, rock-obsessed pretend girlfriend? If she were just another university student, she wouldn’t have to share this or Ryujin or what they do because she wouldn’t owe anybody anything. She could just tack it on her dorm wall, only to be seen by the select few she allows through her door. It’s a comforting idea. 

“No, let’s keep it just for us.” 

🪞

It takes a few weeks but eventually, Sneakers rises over ninety places on every music chart. A sleeper hit is what their team calls it. Jisu calls it a miracle. No matter what they call it, everyone seems firm on the idea that it’s because Chaeryeong got plastered at eight in the morning and made a fool of herself for an hour. 

A series of very weird, unpredictable things happen after. Pringles cans in every flavor in existence keep mysteriously appearing in their waiting rooms at music shows. It’s actually starting to freak her out. And suddenly, the company thinks she’s the best thing since sliced bread. They send her to Knowing Bros and Amazing Saturday, which were previously not on her schedule. She meets Taeyeon and Key and somehow doesn’t explode into a million pieces or do anything too embarrassing. Unless challenging Key to a dance battle counts. She did, indeed, do that. 

It’s kind of everything she thought being an idol would be like. She feels like nothing can bring her down. 

“We should throw a party or something,” Jisu suggests on their first night in California. The flight was long and filming for their new reality show starts tomorrow, but when Yeji suggested dinner on the company card in her room nobody says no. 

None of them are particularly surprised by Jisu’s idea because she lives and breathes sentimental stuff like that, but Yuna still acts like that is the most innovative thing ever said for her benefit. 

“Like right now?” she asks, eyes wide and bright until she thinks about it harder, her shoulders deflating. “But I can’t drink here. Lame.” 

Jisu squishes Yuna’s cheeks in her hand and coos at her pout. Watching Yuna all but melt in her grip is both comical and heartbreaking. They all have a soft spot for Jisu that stretches a mile wide and deep, but at least the rest of them try to hide it. “Not now, when we get back so we can invite people that we know.” 

Chaeryeong knows as soon as the words leave Jisu’s mouth that it’s a bad idea. Sirens go off in her head, red and loud and blaring out: Bad Fucking Idea! This Can Only End In Flames! 

She physically feels Ryujin’s interest pique from beside her, the lightbulb nearly materializing above her head as she looks up from her bowl of linguine. “Can I invite Minjeong and Jimin unnie?”

The fall back down to Earth is swift. 

Suddenly, Chaeryeong’s half-eaten steak is really interesting. She jabs at it with her fork and tries to keep her expression neutral. For Jisu, she can deal with socializing for one night but surely this crosses a line. 

Everything is Jimin unnie with Ryujin these days. A conversation can’t pass without oh, let me show you this tiktok Jimin unnie sent me or Jimin unnie bought these games for me or Jimin unnie likes malaxiangguo too as if there’s a single person in the world who doesn’t like malaxiangguo. She talks about her all the time like she’s a little kid with a crush, and Chaeryeong can feel herself growing more and more annoyed with her.  

Sometimes she just wants to grab Ryujin by the shoulders and shake her, yell “hey, what about me? Remember me, your best friend?” if it wasn’t totally debasing and embarrassing. 

Jisu nods her head emphatically, the bun perched atop her head flips around. It’s so cute Chaeryeong almost forgives her for single-handedly ruining her life. “Yeah, please do. Maybe you can invite Ningning, too?” 

Yuna makes a noise that sounds like excitement but Chaeryeong can’t be too sure when her mouth is stuffed with bread. Yeji snorts, tucking the youngest’s hair behind her ear. 

“I mean, I can ask. I don’t really know her that well but I can just extend the invite to all of them?” Ryujin offers, head tilting like a dog as she says it. Chaeryeong feels something inside of her die.

Jisu, Yuna, and Yeji go on planning the party as they finish eating, but she checks out of the conversation after that. Her appetite has vanished too. The steak stares sadly back at her so she piles the rest of it on top of Ryujin’s pasta before stacking the dirty plate onto the room service tray. Ryujin doesn’t even acknowledge it but she eats the steak with animated joy. Chaeryeong smiles at her even though her insides are revolting against her. 

It’s a little after midnight when Yeji sends them all to bed. A hand around her wrist stops Chaeryeong from bolting for the door. 

Yeji’s eyes have this insane quality to go from unassuming to intense and all-knowing in a matter of seconds. The latter has always scared Chaeryeong a little bit so she doesn’t open her mouth to whine like she wants to, instead waiting for the rest of them to leave before saying anything. 

It feels like it takes forever. Ryujin lingers at the door looking like something is sitting at the tip of her tongue, eyes fixed on Yeji’s hand around her wrist. Combined with Yeji’s eyes boring into the side of her head, Chaeryeong can’t help but squirm. Eventually, she settles on a simple curt goodnight before heading out the door. When it’s just the two of them, Yeji releases her hold on Chaeryeong. 

“You don’t like the party idea.” It’s not a question. Chaeryeong hates when she does that. She rolls her eyes. “Hey, don’t be like that. I’m asking because I care.”    

“You’re not asking.”

“You know I am. Don’t be difficult.” 

“The party is fine…” Chaeryeong says tentatively, stepping closer to rest her hands on Yeji’s hips. Yeji raises a suspicious brow but allows her hands to roam. Sweet, pliable Yeji would probably let Chaeryeong get away with murder if it made her happy. “But do all those people have to come?” 

Yeji sighs hard, stopping Chaeryeong’s hands short of slipping up her shirt. The noise that leaves her throat is whiny and immature. 

“I don’t understand why you have to be like this. If you tried, you’d probably get along with them really well.” 

She leaves Chaeryeong and walks over to the bed, propping herself up against the headboard and shaking her head the whole way. Her sleep shirt fits a little tight around the shoulders and it has a silly little print on it in English that strikes Chaeryeong as familiar but can’t quite place. 

“Jimin even asks about you sometimes. You’ve been dying for friends in SM and they finally debuted a girl group so what’s the problem?” 

Chaeryeong bites back her base instinct to ask what exactly Jimin has been asking about her. Instead, she lies, “I have friends in SM.” 

Yeji is kind, she doesn’t flat-out laugh in her face. “Such as?”

“Na Jaemin.”

Now she does laugh, loud and then harder when she sees Chaeryeong's face. She stretches a hand out for the younger in apology. Chaeryeong stands her ground for all of two seconds. 

“Na Jaemin is not your friend,” she says when Chaeryeong’s knee hits the bed, a sleepy smile on her face. So pretty. “You occasionally recommend each other dramas and then never talk about them. That is not friendship.”

Chaeryeong just laughs, crawling over Yeji’s body until they’re face-to-face, hands running over the flat of her stomach. “That’s actually my ideal friendship.”

Yeji rubs their noses together and their lips brush. She feels a chill roll down her own spine. “I thought this was your ideal friendship?” 

Chaeryeong feels her stomach swoop when Yeji cups the base of her neck and presses their lips together. She laughs into her mouth, letting Yeji swallow the sound as she cradles her chin to kiss her deeper. Kissing Yeji has always been fun. She’s the kind of person who knows exactly what she wants and never makes Chaeryeong have to guess. There’s no puzzle to solve or minefield to navigate when it’s Yeji under her. 

Yeji kisses her softly one more time before pulling back, her breath hitting Chaeryeong’s throat. Chaeryeong watches her swallow. 

And then she opens her mouth. “Seriously though, about the party. Are you okay?”

“Really? You want to talk right now?” 

Yeji just gives her a look and Chaeryeong groans, head dropping to her shoulder. She takes a deep breath into Yeji’s shirt and gets—citrus. Tangerines. 

Okay, fine. Fine! 

“I don’t get why you and Ryujin having new friends means we all have to have new friends.”

Yeji rolls her eyes, exasperated like she didn’t literally just ask. 

“You don’t have to be friends with everyone we’re friends with.” She has her leader voice on now which is usually sexy in bed but feels sort of weird now. Chaeryeong feels a but coming. “But I think you should try, especially since Ryujin and Jimin are like really close now.” 

Jesus Christ. It’s like everything comes back to Ryujin and Jimin and their friendship. People make new friends all the time, life moves on! The world shouldn’t build and rebuild itself or start turning at double speed just because Ryujin and Jimin have sleepovers and braid each other’s hair. But then why does Chaeryeong feel so off-kilter lately, like she’s always walking into a room with the furniture a little to the left of where it used to be? 

“I’m sure they are.” 

It’s bitter even to her own ears. She buries her face deeper into Yeji’s (Ryujin’s?) shirt hoping to suffocate her way out of this conversation. 

“Ohhh,” Yeji says, long and drawn out in a way that makes Chaeryeong peek to find her eyebrows high on her forehead. “That’s what this is?” 

What the hell is she on about? She says it like she’s just fit the last piece into the 5000-piece puzzle that is Lee Chaeryeong, lightbulb over her head and all. Chaeryeong really, really doesn’t like that. 

“This is nothing. I just don’t like being forced into things, okay, what happened to autonomy? Free will?” Words are just leaving her mouth without permission but she can’t stop them or hear them over her heartbeat in her ears. “It’s my party too, like, doesn’t it matter what I think–”

Yeji doesn’t even let her finish. “I fucking knew it! Oh my god, Jisu owes me twenty bucks.”

“What.”

“You always get so weird when Jimin is mentioned.” It’s insulting how excited she is, like she takes joy in telling Chaeryeong the worst things about herself. “Chaeryeong, it’s normal to feel jealous, you know.”

That makes her grit her teeth. “Tell Jisu to keep her money.” 

What does Chaeryeong have to feel jealous over? Ryujin has known Jimin for all of five seconds (it’s actually been ten agonizing months), and Chaeryeong has known her for ten years. If it's a competition of who is made up more of Ryujin’s wack jokes and penchant for arguing and too-big, whisker-dimpled smiles, Chaeryeong takes the cake. 

She opens her mouth to say just that, because it’s her pride on the line, but Yeji beats her to the punch. 

“I don’t want to be the bearer of bad news, but have you ever considered that this hurts Ryujin’s feelings, too?” she asks, face serious as she motions at the space between them with a finger.  

It’s the last thing she expected Yeji to say. It would hurt less to just slap her across the face, maybe. It’d have at least explained the abrupt sting in Chaeryeong’s eyes. 

She swallows and blinks, grits out, “why would it?”

That must be the wrong thing to say because Yeji’s eyebrows draw so tight as her frown deepens. It’s unnatural on a face that usually only ranges from the nicest girl you’ve ever met to their astute no-bullshit leader. Chaeryeong hates the shape of it, hates how just the sight of it makes her feel culpable. 

“Unnie, come on,” she says a little desperately, sitting up until she’s upright on Yeji’s hips. “We’re best friends. She’s your best friend too. It’s different.” 

“Why?”

“Why?” Chaeryeong echoes with a garbled laugh. “I don’t fucking know. It just is. She isn’t one of us. It’s not the same. And Ryujin doesn’t even care about what we do anyway. You know she would’ve said something if it was hurting her feelings. You know how she is.” 

But even to her own ears, it sounds weak and wrong wrong wrong. Would Ryujin tell her if this thing with Yeji was hurting her? Has she been trying to? 

Yeji inhales and it sounds terribly loud in the silence of the hotel room. “So you are hurt by it? Her friendship with Jimin?” 

“I don’t think that’s what I said at all.” 

Yeji shakes her head, smile grim. “You know, Chaeryeong, I think this might be the year you let go of this weird complex you have, too.” Chaeryeong squawks, sitting back on her heels. “I mean, if you can get over your sexuality crisis then I think anything’s possible.”

Chaeryeong feels her body flush. “Why does everyone call it a crisis? It was hardly a crisis, I handled it.”

“You told me you were straight while I was inside of you.” 

“I–” She tenses up, mortified remembering the lecture Yeji gave her about her feelings and living her truth following the slip-up. “Can we not talk about that ever? Once was enough.” 

Emotional vulnerability is the worst thing to ever happen to her. Coming out was a close second. Reluctantly, she rolls off of Yeji and into the space next to her.

Yeji kisses her cheek with an airy laugh, then nuzzles her nose into it softly. “What am I going to do with you?”

Goosebumps rise on Chaeryeong’s arms at the feeling, warmth bursting in her chest at Yeji’s cat-like affection. 

“Anything you want, unnie.” 

Beside her, Yeji is quiet for a longer time than she expected. Her chest rises and falls evenly with each breath she takes, her eyes taking in every inch of Chaeryeong’s face like she’s trying to come to a conclusion. Finally, with one last sigh, she murmurs into Chaeryeong’s skin, “maybe we should stop, hm?” 

“For tonight?” she asks hopefully, pathetically, turning her head to rub her nose into Yeji’s cheek as well, seeking out comfort like a wounded animal. 

She doesn’t even ask the reason when Yeji shakes her head no but she supplies it anyway. “You know it's always been you for her, Chaeryeong.” 

And that so isn’t fair. She feels her chest rattle with every breath she takes, shallow in her ears. Because, yeah, she supposes she does know that. 

Maybe if this were anyone else, Chaeryeong would still pretend she doesn’t. Make a bad joke so they can laugh it away. If she were a worse person, she’d beg for Yeji to make her feel good. Make her forget this was even up for discussion like she has been for the past eight months. But because it is Yeji in front of her, eyes dark and earnest and watching her like she knows Chaeryeong better than she knows herself, she won’t play dumb. It just wouldn’t be fair. 

For all that Chaeryeong would like to pretend, Ryujin has never been confusing or a mystery to her. She’s so sensitive and always speaks sincerely and acts without ever thinking first. Everything she tries to hide shows on her face without fail, words betraying her without notice. And in spite of that, Chaeryeong chooses to misunderstand her anyway. It’s much easier than the alternative and you can’t unring the bell. 

“This is so fucked up,” Chaeryeong groans, untangling herself from Yeji to slip under the covers. She’s staying here tonight, she decided, she needs the comfort. The hotel sheets smell purposely bland and she buries her face in them to block out the smell of Yeji’s shirt. “This is so fucked up.”

Yeji strokes her hair, her voice small and serious. “I shouldn’t have enabled you for so long.”

That shocks Chaeryeong, a confused noise leaving her mouth. “What do you mean?”

“I knew you were running from something, but I always thought it was just you putting off really figuring out your sexuality. I’m dealing with my own…stuff so, it felt okay to leave you to yours if you left me to mine,” she explains, getting under the covers too. She looks so tired. Chaeryeong feels bad for making her stay up and talk about something as dumb as her feelings. “I didn’t know it was Ryujin though.” 

What are you dealing with? Why didn’t you tell me? It’s not Ryujin, I’m not putting anything off. She doesn’t bother opening her mouth to say it, Yeji wouldn’t believe her. She’s starting not to believe herself. 

She continues with a stifled yawn. “I think I’ve given you too much time, though. You need to sort yourself out—who you are, why Jimin bothers you so much—and talk to Ryujin about it.” 

It’s the very nice PG version of get your shit together because Yeji is always kind to her even when she doesn’t deserve it. 

Chaeryeong thinks she knows who she is though. At her core, she’s a hard worker and a homebody and undeniably, very deeply selfish. A selfish monster that just wants to take take take, and never give. 

The truth is up until her birthday last year when Yeji had kissed Chaeryeong at midnight as a joke and then again in the early morning when she couldn’t stop thinking about it, it didn’t really matter how Ryujin felt about her. She was straight, or as good as straight, and acknowledging Ryujin’s crush would’ve been nothing other than cruel then. It would only hurt her and Chaeryeong isn’t in the business of throwing stones in glass houses. The best thing to do for everyone involved was to ignore it. 

Jimin changes things. 

Her appearance in Ryujin’s life has made everything Chaeryeong has tried so arduously to ignore impossible to, springing open like one of those joke cans Yuna likes to scare her with. Ryujin has always been Chaeryeong’s as much as she’s been Ryujin’s, that much has always felt like scripture. So maybe that’s why it feels a little like her favorite toy is being taken from her. Why she has all of this childish rage in her, all this—as Yeji would say—jealousy growling in her belly like there’s something carnivorous living inside. Something that wants to sink its teeth in Ryujin and declare mine mine mine.  

The universe must be a real funny guy. 

That’s what Chaeryeong is thinking when she draws Ryujin as her special friend for ITZY in LA. It’s like everyone, even on a cosmic level, is telling her she has no choice but to deal with it. 

Los Angeles is just as hot and unbearable as Chaeryeong remembers it being, but Palm Springs is lovely. Filming is a lot more fun than Cozy House was too. They go to an amusement park on the first day where Jisu and Ryujin make her eat so much candy, she almost throws up on the Gravitron and then again on the pirate ship. She spends time with Yuna at the hotel pool and watches movies with Yeji late into the night in their shared room. 

It’s work, but it doesn’t really feel like it. They aren’t given a ton of difficult tasks or math problems or scavenger hunts. They go out for dinner instead and try hiking and talk for hours in the living room when the camera crew leaves. If Chaeryeong squints and tilts her head at a certain angle, it’s just a trip with friends. 

On the last night, after their secret friend notes are exchanged and revealed, Ryujin laces their fingers together and pulls her aside. “Come look at the stars with me?” 

She says it casually, like she hasn’t been icing Chaeryeong out this entire trip. It’s their job to interact with each other and play nice for the cameras, but even so, this week has consisted of Ryujin choosing any group that Chaeryeong wasn’t in and sitting as far away as she can during meals, placing any member she can get her hands on in the place between them. 

“Yeah, sure,” Chaeryeong responds with a smile anyway like she didn’t let every insecure thought already inside of her head bubble up and threaten to spill because of it. They’re good at playing pretend, it’s what they do. 

California has been kind to Ryujin. The open sun has kissed her skin and hair golden, leaving it more brown than black nowadays. She smiles more here too. Even when she’s complaining about the lack of good Korean food, there’s still this undeniable brightness she carries around with her. 

Their hands swing between them as they walk to a spot they passed while hiking earlier. The sky is really clear which feels rare for a city like this, a pool of deep blue darkness surrounding them on all sides. 

“I liked your letter,” Ryujin says once they spread out their blanket, she lays down on it and gestures for Chaeryeong to join her. Hesitantly, she does. It was romantic, Yeji and Jisu had said after hearing what she wrote. That wasn’t her intention but hearing it back from Ryujin’s mouth… “I didn’t know you pay that much attention to me.” 

“I don’t,” she says quickly, defensively. “I had to pay that much attention to you. It was the game.” 

“Sure.” Ryujin scoffs, her expression teetering on the edge of annoyance. She pulls a tangerine out of thin air and starts peeling it, popping the slices in her mouth. “It’s like pulling teeth with you. Have you ever tried just being honest?” 

“What do you want me to say?” She grits out, feeling her hackles rise too. 

Everyone is such a hypocrite. Chaeryeong gets lectured and ignored and shut out. She has things taken from her without ever being told why. And the part that really fucking gets her is that everyone keeps telling her to open up while keeping all their shit close to their chest. 

If Ryujin has liked her all the time, why hasn’t she said anything? Is it Chaeryeong’s responsibility alone to do something about it? How is that fair?

From beside her, Chaeryeong feels the fight leave Ryujin. “I don’t know, Chaeryeong, something honest. I wish you would just talk to me the same way I talk to you.” 

“Like a bull in a china shop?” she mutters petulantly, turning her gaze from the sky to catch the shape of Ryujin’s smile when she laughs. 

“Oh, fuck off.” Ryujin twirls her body toward Chaeryeong’s too, always mirroring her, laying on her side with her knees curled up. Where Chaeryeong finds herself unable to, Ryujin has always been wholly unafraid of staring. Her eyes have this quality about them that makes Chaeryeong feel like a caged animal, pinned down and watched, but not now. Now she just feels…loved.

“It’s scary to learn new things about you since I’ve known you for so long. That’s what you said in your note. Is that true, do you find it scary?” 

Ten years is too long to know someone and still find things you never noticed about them. But there are so many things about Ryujin she keeps to herself and many more Chaeryeong just flat out refused to see. This mission gave her no choice but to really look at her, to pick up on the littlest of details she’d failed to glimpse before. Hearing her letter in comparison to the others though left a chalky aftertaste in her mouth, like she overexposed herself and now here Ryujin is prodding at her soft underbelly. 

“Chaeryeong,” she whispers, cutting through her thoughts and her voice rattles around Chaeryeong’s brain violently. Low and smooth and, what is shockingly most important, Ryujin’s. 

“Yeah?” she asks, just a breath, but she already knows. 

It’s nothing like she expected. Ryujin is all childish insistence with a head-first attitude usually, but the hand that cradles Chaeryeong’s jaw in her hand is gentle. As gentle as Ryujin’s mouth when she presses it against hers, slots their lips together with care like she’s scared to spook her which is well within the realm of possibility. 

She’s still as a statue even though she saw this coming from a mile away because Ryujin’s face has never learned to tell a lie, even though Ryujin’s thumb is stroking her jawline softly, asking Chaeryeong to open up for her. And all she can taste are tangerines. It’s on her bottom lip, on her chin, probably on her fingers, and she wants and wants and wants, and—

She feels herself jerk back, disconnecting from Ryujin with urgency. It was the shortest kiss of her life, it might have also been the best. 

“Are you okay?” Ryujin asks, lips spit-wet and pink, concern obvious in her eyes. Ryujin is so pretty. Why is Ryujin so pretty?

Chaeryeong shakes her head, unable to find the right words. Why did she have to kiss her? Why would she do this to Chaeryeong? It’s too much. Ryujin is her friend, and not her friend in the same way Yeji is her friend. Yeji takes care of Chaeryeong, she…manages her well but Ryujin has always needed to be taken care of. 

And Chaeryeong can’t be like that —with Ryujin? No. That would betray the very image she has fought tooth and nail to procure. 

“I’m sorry, I–” 

“You’re sorry?” Ryujin echoes, incredulity seeping into her voice. Her expression fractures and shutters right before Chaeryeong’s eyes, making something tremble inside of her. She scoffs and stands, “it’s fine, Chaeryeong. If that’s what you want then fine. I’ll go back first.” 

Her heart aches in her chest watching Ryujin’s back retreat into nothingness, realizing this isn’t what she wanted at all. To her horror, she thinks she just wanted another kiss. 

🪞

The party is a disaster. 

Well, it’s really not a party and maybe that’s where the problems started. Management says a party is unreasonable with everything they have coming up, so Jisu settles for a few people at their dorm with a rented karaoke system and calls it a celebration instead. An intimate gathering, if you will. There’s a cake, company-provided drinks, and a lack of supervision. Even with a dwindled guest list, every member of Aespa makes the cut. Somi shows up at one point and Bang Chan stops by for a while with other members in tow, but it's a rotating door of coming and going for most of the night. 

Chaeryeong has been trying to stick to the wall, letting whoever wants to talk come to her. Right now, it’s Jisu and Minnie, who is more Jisu’s friend than anyone else’s but she’s cool and really attractive in a way Chaeryeong thinks she’s finally okay with admitting. They both drag her over to where some of Jisu’s other friends (it’s mostly Jisu’s friends at this party) are dancing, and Chaeryeong has just enough soju in her to push aside her shyness and join them. 

It’s a small circle, no more than ten people, but they dance so close to each other it feels like more. Hands are on her hips and her shoulders, sometimes holding her own as they jump to a song they haven’t heard since middle school. 

And then she feels someone at her back and she spins to see who it is. Something in her chest splinters when she finds Ryujin’s flushed face looking back at her. “Oh, hi.”

“Hi, I wanted to dance with you,” she says simply, looping her hands loosely around her waist. It’s only been a week since the kiss. It’s only been a week since Ryujin started acting like it never happened. 

Because her brain-to-mouth filter is fucked, she asks, “not mad at me anymore?” 

Ryujin smiles, then kisses her forehead like she had in that photo booth all those months ago. Chaeryeong doesn’t shy away this time, leans into the feeling and takes it for all its worth. “You’re my best friend.”

Whatever splintered in her chest before must split in half after hearing that because a pang shoots right through her. Chaeryeong plasters on her most convincing smile anyway and dances with Ryujin. It’s the least she can do. They jump up and down and drink and grab onto Yuna when she’s trying to pass them and spin her until they’re all dizzy and sweaty. 

Everything is going well until Yeji waltzes in with four stunning girls behind her and Ryujin jumps up in excitement. Jimin is unsurprisingly as wonderful as Ryujin and Yeji said she is. They’ve been in close quarters maybe once or twice, but this is definitely the most intimate setting. Her face is unreal up close. Small and doll-like and hard to look at, impossible to look away from, but worse than that, she’s sweet and was probably raised well because she shows up with a bottle of some expensive raspberry wine. 

Chaeryeong kind of hates her. Chaeryeong kind of wants to kiss her. It terrifies her how suddenly the notion comes to her, but now it’s stuck like taffy in her teeth. 

Everything is going well until they decide to cut the music and start karaoke. Chaeryeong quietly excuses herself to make another drink, slipping away to the kitchen and refilling her cup with something that is mostly juice. 

“Hey, where should I put this?” Jimin pops up behind Chaeryeong, startling her enough to spill some of her drink. Just as she opens her mouth to continue, 8282 starts to blast on the system and she has to lean in closer to be heard. “Ryujin said you’d know where to put it, sorry.”

“Um.” Chaeryeong blinks, waiting for her brain to catch up. She takes the wine bottle off her hands. “Yeah, I’ll take it. Thanks again.” 

“Of course,” she waves it away and it sounds genuine enough to make Chaeryeong feel bad about not liking her a little. “Actually, this might sound weird but I’ve been asking around about you–” So I’ve heard. “–and I think we have a lot in common. We should hang out sometime.” 

God, she’s so nice. It’s awful. All Chaeryeong can do is give her an aborted nod and offer to make her a drink. With shaky hands, she pours out the same concoction she made for herself and shrinks under the warm smile she receives for her trouble. Awful awful awful. 

Chaeryeong settles back on the wall where Yeji is talking to Giselle, leaning into her side. They’re talking about taking a trip, so she tunes out of the conversation in favor of watching Ningning and Jisu sing the house down to Wonder Girls’ 2 Different Tears.  

Everything is going well until they finish and Ryujin is flipping through the big book looking for a song to sing. She lands on something she’s been playing on repeat in their van lately, IU’s Can’t Love You Anymore. Sometimes Chaeryeong catches her singing along to it under her breath in that silky, deep tone of hers.

Everything is going well until the song starts and Ryujin realizes it’s a song made for two. Until she says jagiya, come sing with me and Chaeryeong feels Jimin stand at the same time as she’s pushing herself off the wall. Until she realizes Ryujin wasn’t talking to her at all.

It feels like a bucket of ice water is poured over her head. A hand comes down around the nape of her neck, squeezes once, and her eyes start to feel wet. She can’t cry right now, not in front of all these people. Not over Shin Ryujin. 

Yeji’s eyes hold nothing but pity when she turns to her, but she doesn’t need Yeji’s pity right now. She just needs to not be here anymore. 

Crying in the bathtub isn’t her lowest point by any means, but it sure feels that way when Ryujin finds her in there. Eyes swollen, lips chapped, and very little dignity left. 

The look in her eye is undeniable, anger simmering and ready to blow evident in the tense set of her shoulders. She’s always been awful at keeping it to herself, letting out the worst of it to whoever prods first. 

“I can’t believe how selfish you’re being right now.”

“...What?” she croaks out, confused for a moment, and then feels a spark of something ugly make itself known in her mind. “How am I being selfish, Ryujin?” 

With Ryujin looking down at her like this, the way her eyes burn with rage feels like a threat, but Chaeryeong tries to hold her ground even though she feels like she could cry all over again. 

“You’re being unfair. It’s okay for you to fuck Yeji for a year but I can’t even have friends without you freaking out.” 

Chaeryeong deflates like a balloon, flinching back at the hurt laced in her voice.

“It’s not the same…” You like Jimin, she wants to say. You call her what you used to only call me. You do things with her that used to only be ours. That just pisses her off more, she throws her hands through her silver hair and chuckles mirthlessly. The sound bounces off of the bathroom walls.

“Yes, it is. It’s the exact same and you know it. God, you’re so…” Her hands fall from her head and then she explodes. Chaeryeong is too close, she takes the brunt of the damage. “I don’t know what you want from me, Chaeryeong, because – because you never call first and you’ve been sleeping with Yeji even though you don’t even like her like that, and every time I ask you to hang out, it takes coaxing. Is that fair to me? Am I supposed to stick around forever and try for someone who never does?” Her words leave her in heavy rivulets, her irritation waxing and waning with each sentence until her voice reaches barely more than a whisper. “At least if I was hooking up with Jimin, she’d have the decency to ask me for it.”

It hurts like a flesh and blood wound, the way Ryujin looks at her now. Adoration vanishing gradually until all that's left is hurt. Chaeryeong did that to her. 

She sits down on top of the toilet, flattening the pretty black dress she’s wearing down under her behind. When she turns her eyes on Chaeryeong again, they’re misty. 

“Really, the worst part is that I kissed you. I kissed you and you fucking flinched, but you’re here crying in the bathroom over what, me singing with Jimin unnie? When I’ve given you every opportunity to pull me back in and you never did. Never even tried. You’re – you’re just greedy and inconsiderate and fucking selfish.” She doesn’t even sound angry anymore, just defeated at finally realizing what kind of person Chaeryeong is. 

“Ryujin…I’m so sorry. I–” 

Ryujin waits patiently, but Chaeryeong feels frozen. 

Eventually, Ryujin gives up. “This isn’t elementary school, Chaeryeong. You can’t just pull at my pigtails and expect me to know you like me.”

“But I do,” Chaeryeong manages, bearing her heart. There’s a lump in her throat, it’s the only thing blocking her heart from falling out her mouth and at Ryujin’s feet. Fuck it, bull in a china shop. “I like you, Ryujin. I like you so much, okay? I like you, I like you. I’m so fucking sorry I didn’t know before, but I do now and I like you so much.” 

Hearing it from her own mouth makes her want to laugh because it makes no sense, but it’s true. Nothing has ever been more true. Once she’s said it, it feels like whatever was blocking her airways breaks itself down and she can fucking breathe. 

Something in Ryujin’s face almost gives, barely softening before it hardens again. She stands to leave, hardly throwing a backward glance at Chaeryeong. “Tough shit.” 

“Ryujin,” she pleads and almost reaches out for her before thinking better of it. 

Ryujin looks up at the ceiling, her chest rising and falling twice before she shakes her head. “I just. Cant with you right now. I’ll come find you later or something but I just can’t right now.”

And then she leaves Chaeryeong behind again, taking all the oxygen with her.  

🪞

Practice is weird and everyone notices. The tour is coming up so stress is expected, but even their managers can tell this is different. Choreographies they’ve been performing for years look stiff now and Chaeryeong finds herself getting frustrated more because she’s tripping up over the oddest of details. It’s slowing everyone down, something they can’t really afford with a schedule as packed as theirs. 

Jisu approaches her at the dorm once to ask if they had a fight and all Chaeryeong can offer her is a vague something like that, not really in the mood to open up to anyone ever again. She spends her free time alone, moping around, or worming her way into the other member’s rooms to mope with them. Cuddling (just cuddling) with Yeji when she has the time or crashing Yuna and Jisu’s movie nights. They let her pick Pride & Prejudice (2005) six nights in a row without ever asking why or complaining. She’s not grieving quietly, but that’s because she’s never learned how. She’s never had her heart broken before. 

It’s two more awful nights before later comes. 

Chaeryeong gets deja vu when her door creaks open sometime just before midnight. She’s laying on her side facing the wall as she texts Chaeyeon, wallowing, and the bed dips behind her. A small body curls itself around Chaeryeong’s back, nose nuzzling into the nape of her neck. 

“You’re in my spot,” Ryujin murmurs, lips brushing against her skin. Chaeryeong shivers but tries to stay still otherwise, unsure if this is even real. 

“This is my bed,” she says, locking her phone. “Why are you here?” 

“I’ve had a hard time sleeping lately. Too many thoughts.”

“Oh. Me too.” She sniffs, then tries to turn in her spot but is met with one of Ryujin’s hands on her hip keeping her in place. “Do–do you want to talk about it?”

“Yeah,” Ryujin says, burying her face further into Chaeryeong. “But I think if I see your face right now I’m just gonna get mad all over again.”

That startles a laugh out of Chaeryeong. “Oh, okay.” 

“I’ve never done anything like that with Jimin unnie,” she starts carefully, fingers squeezing Chaeryeong’s hip for a moment. The admission makes something inside of Chaeryeong keen. “The most we’ve ever done is make out, but we were drunk. But I liked the idea of you not liking me spending time with her, so I always played it up. That wasn’t fair of me.”

Chaeryeong gasps. “You dick.”

“I know,” Ryujin laughs, and Chaeryeong lets the sound curl inside her chest. “I stood by and watched you hook up with Yeji unnie for months and you had no idea how crazy it made me feel. I just wanted to see if you would feel anything at all, even if it was only platonic. I really didn’t expect…”

“Yeah, well. Congrats.” Ryujin’s fingers crawl up the inside of her shirt and tickle the warm flesh of Chaeryeong’s stomach, making her squirm. “You got what you wanted.”

She finally manages to turn in her grip, finding Ryujin’s face in the dark. She cups it with both of her hands, taking in the dark bags under her eyes, the lines around the corners of her mouth, the two perfectly placed moles around her eyes. Beautiful, Ryujinie. They haven’t laid down together like this in months. They honestly should’ve done this months ago. 

“I’m so sorry for everything.” 

“Me too.” She feels Ryujin take in a large breath, turning her face into Chaeryeong’s palm. Her lips brush her skin when she asks, “so, you really like me?” 

And Chaeryeong doesn’t even have it in herself to be embarrassed by how it sounds like Ryujin is teasing her. Because she does. 

Despite her best efforts, she likes Shin Ryujin so much.