AOA's dormitory has a single parapet, extending from the living room and out into open sky, busy road. Out there on the parapet the tomato tendrils grow up and around the railings. They strangle the banisters and dusting the ground. Typically Chanmi is in charge of late night plant-care shifts, but lately Hyejeong has been on duty for no particular reason.

“Look, there she is again,” Jimin points at the lone figure, starkly white against the backdrop of night, “wasting precious sleep. That child doesn't know the true worth of a few extra hours, I swear.”

“Well, people do weird things for love,” Mina says, atop the dining table and towelling off from a shower.

“A lie;” Jimin snorts, “she's probably up eating. You think she's over 50 again?”

Mina shakes her head. “She wasn't even under in the first place, kiddo.”

“What'd you call me?”

Choa sticks her head out of the room again. She grips the doorknob in one hand and beckons for Jimin with the other. Sighing, Jimin abandons all thoughts of kicking Mina in the shin at thirty minutes to midnight and scurries off into the room.

“Coming, coming!” Jimin mutters under her breath. “Demanding wives.”

Hyejeong almost turns back to watch Jimin go. It's always amusing to see Jimin with her tail between her legs and acceding to the requests of her significant other. It's no recent development, Mina and Heyjeong note. This had been brewing for a while, only coming to a satisfying conclusion as of late, leaving most members relieved and Hyejeong feeling mildly suffocated.

Mina watches the white blouse billow in the wind like a sail. She's not sure if Hyejeong remembered shorts or not. Doesn't seem like she did.

“She might not make it till three or so,” Mina calls as she wrings her towel dry in her hands.

A pause in time. Hyejeong breaks the sentence down. She resigns herself to pre-established facts. She registers the concerned notes in Mina's voice. She her lips which have been cracked by the wind.

“I know,” the meek answer comes from the parapet.

“Don't stay up too late, then.”

“I won't.”

So Hyejeong stays up until it's about two, and she stares at the moon as if it is a clock's face with numbers. Her eyes stray to the road, wondering if the van's coming in soon, and then looks back up at the moon somewhat sheepishly, as if afraid to know how much time has passed.

It hasn't just been two hours, though. It's been several nights and tens of hours in waiting time. Hyejeong has been filling the watering cans for days and sitting around the parapet, peeling at the skin on her knees, and offering company to the tomato plants, and all because of a single girl.

Seolhyun's been filming a new drama series. There are late-night filming sessions, times Seolhyun reaches home at six in the morning, far-out locations strategically situated in the middle of nowhere. Hyejeong quite dislikes this arrangement. Seolhyun shouldn't be braving performances with two hours worth of sleep. Hyejeong thinks about the eyebags underneath Seolhyun's eyes, how they bruise lightly under the pad of her thumb. She shivers for good reason, recalling the events occurring a week or so ago.

“Why are you behaving like this?” Jimin asks sternly, striped tee and mini-skirt attire looking menacing even under dimmed spotlights. “Do you want to settle this outside?”

It's only the second stage for “Heart Attack” and Hyejeong's on edge, jittery, and getting easily riled up by flashing lights and Yuna dancing too close to her during the chorus. Hyejeong tugs on the stockings and shakes her head, biting her lip; it gets redder.

“I just don't want to do another six-member skit,” Hyejeong mutters, “it's not my thing.”

“She'll be here,” Mina says calmly, “there must be a jam on the way here. Manager-unnie says she's on the way, made up and all. Let's just mic up and relax for a bit.”

“No funny business. Shin Hyejeong, no stress on the kid when she arrives. Sort your feelings out on your own, or we'll have to step in. I don't want anything affecting her performance, or yours.”

On