Chapter Text
We’re about to comeback, Jiwon-ah. Do you need anything?
The van was dark except for the pale light of Jiwon’s phone, its glow bleaching her face as she read Yujin’s message. She sat in the front passenger seat, legs crossed tight, arms folded loosely in her lap. Beside her, their manager slept in the driver’s seat, head tilted back, breathing deep and careless.
I’m fine, she typed. Just got back from the shops too. Manager-nim and I are already here, waiting for you both
She sent it before she could think too long about how untrue it was.
She hadn’t gone anywhere. Not really.
When Yujin had suggested splitting up to “look around on their own,” Jiwon understood instantly. It was never phrased cruelly—never direct—but it didn’t need to be. It meant give us space. It meant you don’t belong in this part.
Seven years together carved that kind of shorthand into people.
Ahn Yujin and Jang Wonyoung had been dating since IZ*ONE. Seven years of shared hotel rooms and quiet touches behind curtains, of bodies learning each other until it became instinct. They didn’t hide it from the group. A month before debut, they’d gathered everyone after practice, sweat still clinging to their skin, exhaustion softening their edges.
“We’re not keeping secrets” Wonyoung had said with a smile that was nervous but sincere. “We’re a team now.”
Yujin hadn’t even looked up then, fingers twisted into the hem of Wonyoung’s shirt like she was afraid of losing her grip.
“I hope none of you mind” Yujin had murmured.
Wonyoung squeezed her hand. “We’ve been together since IZONE. We just didn’t want things to feel awkward.”
The others had reacted loudly—surprise, laughter, teasing—but acceptance came easily. Promises to be supportive, jokes already forming.
Jiwon had smiled too. Of course she had.
It hadn’t shocked her. She’d noticed long before the announcement. The way Yujin’s hand always found Wonyoung’s lower back in crowded rooms. The way Wonyoung leaned into her without thinking, shoulder brushing hip, fingers hooking briefly into fabric as if to reassure herself she was still there.
Jiwon had learned to look away at the wrong moments. To pretend she didn’t hear the soft laughter slipping under bathroom doors during breaks, or the murmured voices that grew slower, warmer. She knew the sound of Yujin saying Wonyoung’s name when no one else was meant to hear it.
That wasn’t history. That was hunger that had already been fed.
So why did Jiwon still feel like this?
Why did something twist low in her stomach when Wonyoung said it out loud—we’re together—as if the words pressed directly against skin?
It was humiliating. Wanting someone who was already claimed. Wanting someone who belonged to a girl older, steadier, more assured. Someone she probably knew her whole life.
“Jiwon-ah” Yujin’s voice had pulled her back then. “You’ve been quiet.”
She’d startled. “Oh, have I?” A laugh, quick and light. “I’m really happy for you. I kind of guessed already. IZONE clips made it obvious”
Wonyoung had laughed, bright and teasing. “Were we that obvious?”
The sound had gone straight through her.
Looks like this helped break the ice, Wonyoung had said, glancing around the room. I hope we can all get closer.
Closer
_______
The van door slides open.
“That was tiring, Yujin says as she climbs in, Wonyoung follows arms full of shopping bags, smiling, hair slightly messy, cheeks warm from walking too long and laughing too freely.
She looks… satisfied. Relaxed in a way she never is on camera.
“Jiwon-ah” Wonyoung says, leaning forward between the seats. “I got you something”
Her hand brushes Jiwon’s shoulder as she passes the small bag. Barely there. Accidental.
Jiwon feels it anyway.
Her body reacts before her brain catches up—heat blooming fast, embarrassing. She imagines, just for a second, what those hands would feel like if they didn’t pull away. If they stayed. If they touched with intent instead of politeness.
She hates herself for how fast the thought comes.
“Cute, right?” Wonyoung says, smiling.
Jiwon grips the bag, fingers tight. Wonders, stupidly, if Wonyoung thought of her when she picked it up. Wonders if she ever thinks of anyone outside the person she’s already chosen.
“Thank you” Jiwon says quietly. Wonyoung.
Saying her name feels like something she shouldn’t do.
“I got stuff for everyone” Wonyoung adds quickly, already sitting back. “Let’s go home.”
Of course she did.
The engine starts. The city blurs past the window. Jiwon watches her reflection in the glass—calm, pleasant, unthreatening.
No one sees what she’s imagining.
No one knows how badly she wants.
And for now, that’s enough.
⸻
Almost five years of living together, and Jiwon had memorized—if not all, then almost all—of Wonyoung’s patterns in her daily life. Wonyoung, undeniably their most popular member, just ahead of Yujin, had a schedule that was borderline cruel. Sometimes she worked for nineteen hours straight: a photoshoot for another magazine cover, shooting for yet another advertisement. The members often joked about how Wonyoung could endorse even laundry detergent.
If she wasn’t surrounded by cameras, she was probably on a plane, updating her SNS or memorizing a script on the way to another fashion show.
“Wony, your schedule is bothering… are you even resting?” Gaeul brought it up one night. The girls were finally eating dinner together, all available after an advertisement shoot.
“Mmh, don’t be bothered, guys. I’m built for this,” Wonyoung quickly assured them.
Being worried about Wonyoung wasn’t new among the members. They were painfully aware of how overworked she was, how hated, how constantly expected to be perfect in front of the camera while still being one of the most scrutinized idols of her generation.
But no one was more bothered than Yujin—her leader, and her girlfriend. Unlike the others, Yujin didn’t show it openly. At least, not when the members were around.
Jiwon understood why. Yujin knew Wonyoung’s schedule because she lived something similar herself, her popularity sitting just behind Wonyoung’s, her own days just as packed. But more than that, Yujin wasn’t the type for public affection. Not even in the dorms.
Jiwon noticed everything.
She admired Yujin’s discipline. If Wonyoung were her girlfriend—if she came home after a week of barely seeing each other—Jiwon knew she wouldn’t be able to stop herself. She would already be on her, pulling her into a hug, pressing a kiss against her cheek or her lips, even if it meant the other members would see.
But she wasn’t Yujin.
And she certainly wasn’t dating Jang Wonyoung.
But living together for years makes it impossible, really, for Yujin and Wonyoung not to be seen as what they are. And Jiwon—observant by nature, by habit, by necessity—sees it all.
The way their bodies tilt toward each other without thinking. The way space closes instinctively. Jiwon notices how needy Wonyoung becomes after long days, how exhaustion softens her into something clingier, something that wants. She seeks Yujin’s neck, slides her arms around her waist, presses close just to breathe her in, like scent alone might ground her. Yujin usually resists—gently, always gently—with a smile Jiwon has learned to read. Later. “The members are still here”
Restraint, practiced.
But restraint isn’t invisibility.
There are moments they miss. Slips in timing. And Jiwon finds herself outside Wonyoung’s room more often than she should—the room she practically shares with Yujin, judging by how frequently Yujin is there, even when Wonyoung isn’t. What begins as a harmless midnight trip to the bathroom ends with Jiwon standing still, pulse loud in her ears, cheek nearly brushing the door as she listens.
“Mmh fuck, Wony, not too hard… ooh~”
Yujin’s voice is low, unraveling. The sound of skin against skin follows, muted but unmistakable, every noise amplified in the quiet hallway.
“Unnie, I missed this,” Wonyoung says, breathless, satisfied. “I can’t stop thinking about this tight hole mmh.”
“Did You miss this, unnie?” she asks again, pushing deeper, the rhythm sharpening, wet and desperate in Jiwon’s ears. “Mmh miss you so much baby”
This is wrong.
The thought comes late, weak, barely convincing. She shouldn’t be here. This is private. This is theirs.
And yet—
She hears them at least three times a month. Not that she counts. It would be dishonest to pretend she doesn’t sometimes time her steps, her bathroom breaks, the small hours of the night around the possibility of it.
Later, lying in her own bed, staring at the ceiling, she tells herself no while her mind betrays her anyway. She imagines being where Yujin is. Imagines Wonyoung above her instead—how she would feel, how she would touch. Hands cupping her mounds, kneading her milky thighs, lingering over skin she already knows too well, before moving lower, greedy, familiar.
I have a better body than her, Jiwon thinks, mean and small and aching. Don’t I?
The sound of Wonyoung’s door opening snaps her out of it. Footsteps—two sets—hurrying toward the bathroom. Cleaning up. Resetting.
Jiwon turns onto her side, heart still racing, their voices lingering in her head long after the hallway goes quiet.
But the industry was harsh—toxic, controlling, especially to women like them. And IVE, being one of the top groups out there, meant that they were always under a camera. Always around people. Always aware of the public eye and the image imposed on them, not just by fans but by their own company. Pressure layered endlessly over itself.
Like any couple, fighting and bad days weren’t foreign to Yujin and Wonyoung.
“Unnie, you know it’s part of my work.”
Wonyoung says it during one of those moments when they’re both too tired to soften their voices. They’re slumped in the van, waiting for the manager to take them back to the dorms. Yujin and Wonyoung sit at the back—not in their usual places with the rest of the girls. The air between them is tense enough that the others try not to pay attention. Try, at least. Liz scrolls through her phone a little too obviously.
“Let’s talk about this later, Wonyoung.”
“No,” Wonyoung says immediately. “You’ve been ignoring me the whole show. Even in front of the camera. You think people wouldn’t notice?”
“I said later,” Yujin replies, sharper this time.
Wonyoung exhales, tired. The fight drains out of her all at once. She turns away, facing the window, shoulders stiff.
It’s in moments like this that Jiwon realizes something she’s been circling for a while now—that Yujin holds more power over Wonyoung than Wonyoung ever seems to have over her.
“I think it’s because of aespa’s winter who kept complimenting Wonyoung unnie earlier,” Jiwon hears Leeseo whisper to Rei.
Back at the dorms, the tension doesn’t dissolve.
“Unnie, you’ve been like this since earlier…” Wonyoung’s voice fades as she follows Yujin toward her room.
The sound of Yujin’s own door slamming shut comes seconds later—loud enough to echo down the hallway. Wonyoung looks back at them with an awkward look
“Let’s just rest,” Gaeul says from the living room, already settling in. “Don’t be nosy. It’s normal for couples to fight.”
“Yeah,” Rei adds easily. “They’ll make up in no time. Just like they always do.”
Days like this don’t surprise Jiwon. If anything, they confirm things she’s already noticed.
Yujin—one of the most famous, gorgeous, and untouchable women in the country—has jealousy issues. Ones she never names outright. Ones that surface sideways. Almost every argument seems to circle back to it. Jiwon first started suspecting it when Wonyoung began keeping her distance—not just from fans, but from staff and even the members. A careful distance. A practiced one. Because Jiwon knows what happens when Yujin reacts. The mood shifts. The air tightens. Everything bends around it.
“She’s so insecure, it’s funny,” Jiwon says one night, casually, sprawled across her bed in the dorm she shares with Rei.
She doesn’t mind letting some of her surface-level thoughts slip around Rei—mostly about Yujin. Rei listens, nodding along, unaware that Jiwon’s words come from somewhere far less neutral.
“Well, if Wonyoung were my girlfriend, I’d be insecure too,” Rei says. “But it is weird. Wonyoung’s always reassuring her. Constantly. And still, Yujin unnie acts like that.”
“I know, right?” Jiwon replies. “Wonyoung’s strong for still putting up with her.”
Does Wonyoung love Yujin that much? Enough to never seriously consider leaving? Even when Yujin withholds. Even when Wonyoung works herself past exhaustion week after week?
Jiwon knows more about the answer than she should.
She remembers wonyoung’s journal.
The day Wonyoung asked in the group chat if someone could clean her room while she was away in Paris. Jiwon volunteered almost immediately. The others were busy with schedules. Alone in Wonyoung’s room, the journey wasn’t hidden—just left where it assumed trust.
She remembers opening it.
The frustration was immediate, written in careful lines. Yujin’s name appeared again and again—not accusatory, just heavy. Wonyoung wrote about imagining Yujin differently. About wishing she were more like other girlfriends—clingy, sweet, someone who made Wonyoung feel needed. Someone Wonyoung could protect. Someone who couldn’t manage without her.
Is it bad I want to feel powerful in my own relationship?
Jiwon remembers that line clearly.
A smile had escaped her lips then.
Break up with her, she thought. I can do all the things you’re craving for.
The smile didn’t last.
The guilt followed quickly in Wonyoung’s writing—how wrong she felt for thinking those things. How much she loved Yujin. How willing she was to give Yujin what she wanted, even if it meant letting her own needs go unmet.
—
“You’re up early again.”
It was another 3 a.m. at their dorms, but unlike Jiwon’s usual eavesdropping, she drifted toward the kitchen instead. She found the tall girl seated at the table—Wonyoung already awake, already dressed for an early schedule, fingers wrapped around a mug.
“Oh,” Wonyoung said, startled, then smiling. “You shocked me. Why are you awake?”
“Couldn’t sleep,” Jiwon answered casually, moving past her toward the cupboards to reach for her own cup.
She tipped up onto her toes. Her shirt rode up her stomach—a loose white spaghetti strap paired with short dolphin shorts. Jiwon thought, fleetingly, that she’d picked the right sleepwear tonight. Her body was on display without trying soft, milky legs, her waist peeking out. She heard Wonyoung clear her throat.
“Can’t reach?” Wonyoung asked, rising from her seat.
“Yeah.”
The tension thickened. Jiwon was certain her movements had an effect on her. What she didn’t expect was for Wonyoung to step closer.
“Let me.”
She felt Wonyoung’s breath as the girl reached for the cupboard—without asking Jiwon to move. Wonyoung placed herself exactly behind her, body pressing into Jiwon’s back as she stretched upward.
Jiwon froze.
She felt it—hard, undeniable—pressing against her from behind. Wonyoung’s body, her weight, her heat, her obviously hard dick. Fuck. Fuck. What the fuck. Jiwon’s thoughts short-circuited completely.
“Here you go.”
Wonyoung retracted. “Sorry,” she whispered, noticing how red Jiwon’s ears had gone.
“Hm?” Jiwon pretended not to hear as she turned to face her. “Thank you.”
She fixed her posture. Their eyes met.
The tension was palpable. Jiwon’s head filled with questions all at once—why, and did Wonyoung do that on purpose?
The eye contact broke when Wonyoung cleared her throat again and returned to her seat. Jiwon moved to the sink, leaning back against the counter as she poured hot water into her cup. Their eyes met once more, briefly.
Fuck, how awkward, Wonyoung thought. Why did I even do that? That’s so wrong.
“You and Yujin… are you okay now?” Jiwon asked, trying to shift the tension.
Wonyoung let out a long sigh. “I—I don’t know. Not really.”
Jiwon saw the frustration on her face. It made something warm and ugly settle in her chest.
“You’re tired, aren’t you?”
Wonyoung blinked. “What? With Yujin? No, no—”
“I mean everything,” Jiwon said smoothly. “Your schedules. This comeback. The fight. It’s showing, Wony.”
“I am,” Wonyoung admitted, voice faltering. “I am so, so tired, Jiwon. I don’t know anymore.”
She cracked then, tears threatening. Jiwon moved instinctively.
“Hey, Wony—” She stepped forward, unsure at first, then wrapped her arms around her. Wonyoung stayed seated, her head dipping against Jiwon’s lower belly. Wonyoung’s hands settled at her waist, thumbs brushing dangerously close behind.
“It feels so hard,” Wonyoung said, words spilling now. “I’m working my ass off, still catering to the public even when they turn their backs on me over the smallest things. And when I try to seek comfort from my girlfriend, suddenly there’s a problem—with me, with my coworkers. It’s so fucking tiring, Jiwon. I do everything to be the perfect, supportive, giving girlfriend, and she gives me fake accusations while constantly depriving me of affection. Of what I need. I’m so full of it.”
Jiwon stiffened, then softened.
“Your girlfriend might hear you,” she said quietly—concerned, but satisfied in a way she didn’t examine.
“You know what,” Wonyoung breathed, “I don’t even mind anymore.”
“I’m sorry you feel that way,” Jiwon said, patting her head, pulling her closer. “You don’t deserve everything that’s happening to you right now.”
Your girlfriend doesn’t deserve you.
She let Wonyoung cry against her, fingers threading through her hair, tucking strands behind her ear.
“It’s okay,” Jiwon whispered. “With me, you can be vulnerable.”
Wonyoung looked so good like this. All Jiwon wanted was to kiss those tears away—to give her everything she needed, everything Yujin seemed to avoid. They stayed like that for a few more minutes until Wonyoung finally calmed down. When she looked up, her eyes met Jiwon’s—Jiwon looking down at her, Wonyoung’s arm still wrapped hugging around her waist.
“Thank you, Jiwonie,” Wonyoung said softly. “I know we haven’t really been the closest in our group.”
“It’s okay, Wony.” Jiwon’s thumb slid gently over Wonyoung’s soft, porcelain skin, wiping away the tears she’d missed.
That was when Wonyoung became aware of their position. How close they still were. How wrong it would look. How Yujin would react if she saw them like this.
Wonyoung pulled away quickly, arms slipping from around Jiwon’s waist.
Jiwon noticed immediately. She knew what Wonyoung had thought of—who she had thought of. Yujin. She always thought of Yujin. The realization left a bitter taste in her mouth.
“I feel a lot better now, Jiwon,” Wonyoung said, snapping herself back into composure. “Thank you for this.”
Her phone lit up then—a notification. Their manager was already waiting in the parking lot. Jiwon glanced at the screen without meaning to.
“I should probably say goodbye to Yujin,” Wonyoung said, standing as she turned toward Yujin’s room.
“She’s asleep, Wonyoung,” Jiwon said, stopping her before she could think better of it. “Yujin would be annoyed if you woke her up, especially since… you’re not really on good terms right now.”
Why did I stop her?
“Oh,” Wonyoung said, pausing. Her expression fell into something thoughtful. “Right.”
She hesitated, then reached for her bag on the table. “I should probably go then. I’ll just message her when I arrive.”
“Yeah,” Jiwon replied. “You should.”
A beat. “You can message me too, Wony. You know—if you need someone to talk to.”
“I’ll message you too when I arrive, then,” Wonyoung said.
Silence followed.
“Go back to sleep, Jiwon-ah,” Wonyoung said quietly. “Goodbye.”
Jiwon watched the door close behind her. A familiar feeling crept into her chest—warm, aching, overwhelming.
She felt love. Too much of it.
Did Wonyoung mean something by tonight? Did she look at me differently? We’ve never been this close before.
The thoughts crowded her mind, looping over themselves, and Jiwon didn’t even realize she was smiling to herself—standing alone in the kitchen, looking like a fool.
__
Jiwon woke up again to loud laughter spilling from outside her room. It startled her awake, but the memory of what had happened earlier lingered—warm enough to put her in a good mood despite herself. Still half-asleep, she reached for her phone.
Then she saw the notification.
Her grip loosened, the phone nearly slipping from her face.
Wonyoungie 🐰 sent an image
J.wy: Good morning, Jiwon-ah. Figured you went back to sleep.
: I’m filming a variety show right now.
: As a soldier.
: How do I look?
Jiwon stared at the screen.
What the fuck.
Wonyoung had sent her a selfie—high-angled, taken in the car. Her face was scrunched into something playful, exaggerated and unserious, like she wasn’t being filmed in an hour, like she hadn’t just cried in Jiwon’s arms a few hours ago.
Cute, Jiwon thought, traitorous and immediate.
K.jw: you look cute as always, i can’t really see your outfit tho
She replied quickly. Too quickly.
The message was seen almost instantly.
Wonyoungie 🐰❤️ sent an image
This one was clearer. More deliberate. Wonyoung sat back in her seat, the camera angled low enough to catch the patterned green uniform properly—upper body, thighs, the way her long fingers rested loosely against her leg.
And—
Jiwon swallowed.
There was a slight outline. Nothing blatant. Just enough that it might not have been intentional. Just enough that it could’ve been.
K.jw: looks good, wony
She sent it before she could overthink it.
: i’ll talk to you later jiwon-ah, shoot is starting :D
Talk to you later.
Jiwon froze.
She scrolled up without meaning to. Their past messages stared back at her—dry, functional, professional.
I’ll be late today.
Manager-nim is asking what drink you want.
Tell Gaeul unnie I’m outside, thank you.
Nothing like this.
K.jw: have fun, wony :) don’t tire yourself too much ❤️
She added the heart before she could stop herself.
This day couldn’t get any better.
Jiwon sat up, a strange smile stretching across her face—too wide for someone who’d just woken up. Am I dreaming? she wondered absently as she fixed her bed and stepped out of the room she shared with Rei.
The dorm was already awake.
Gaeul and Yujin were at the table, setting things out. Rei sat on the couch, half-focused on a game blaring from the TV. Leeseo was probably already at school.
“I don’t know, unnie,” Yujin was saying, voice tight. “She didn’t even say goodbye to me when she left.”
Jiwon slowed her steps, listening without looking like she was.
“She probably left early while you were asleep,” Gaeul reasoned.“She always bid me goodbye before her schedule. Even when i’m asleep,” Yujin insisted. “Especially Now when we’re fighting. I didn’t even get a message this morning.”
Serves you right.
“Oh—you’re awake already, Jiwon-ah,” Gaeul said, finally noticing her.
“Morning,” Jiwon replied, smoothing her expression into something pleasant.
“You look happy,” Yujin said immediately. Of course she noticed. She always did. Jiwon forced a smile. “Of course. I have a recording later.”“Wah, good luck!” Yujin said warmly, genuine as ever. “You’ll do well for sure.”
Of course I will.
“Thanks,” Jiwon replied, tone polite enough to pass. Annoying enough that it made her jaw tighten. She turned toward the fridge. “I’ll eat first.”
Behind her, Yujin kept talking—still worried, still unaware.
They’re fighting, and I’m the first person she talked to today.
Jiwon reached for a glass, her phone buzzing quietly in her pocket.
Can this day get any better?
Her smile returned, slow and satisfied, as her thoughts drifted exactly where they weren’t supposed to.