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"So you're telling me," Haha says, solemn, sotto voce, "That you guys ed on my son's birthday?"

"Why the hell is that the only thing you're getting out of this?" she shrills. Gary, sat to her right, visibly winces away from her general parameter, because only dogs can hear vocal pitches of that high a calibre.

And now she's making Gae-ry/dog jokes. Outstanding. Brain damage, specifically his, was apparently very highly contagious.

"But on my son's birthday?" Haha tuts, "Isn't that a little shameless?"

If she were the bigger person—which she is, because Haha's still the shortest out of them, regardless of what his pride and lack of self-awareness and endless supply of shoelifts may lead him to say—she'd have laughed coquettishly, told Haha how wild he was, and sipped daintily at her tea like the graceful and unbothered woman she is. As it is, being pregnant sans the marital commitment—or even the romantic one, god—really does a number on how tolerant you are of other people's bull.

Which means she whacks him on the back of his head. Hard. "What's shameless is that you got us all drunk on your son's birthday, so really, it's your fault it even happened at all."

"Good god, I was just trying to clear the atmosphere," Haha says, clutching the base of his skull, glaring at her as he does. She sticks out her tongue at him, because why not. Pregnant mothers were said to regress in mentality once they have their baby, so she has an excuse to be childish, never mind that she's hardly even out of her first trimester. "Hyung, control your woman."

Gary says, "She's not my woman," at the same time she snarls, "I'm not his woman," and Haha just draws his head back to side-eye them in skepticism. 

"It was a one time thing," Gary says, calm, stable, like an anchorman delivering the daily news. If he'd been this composed an hour ago, then they wouldn't even be here, trying to rationalize their unorthodox situation to the absolute worst meddler she knows. He really dialed up his efforts on the most random things; she'll give the show props for getting at least that right. "We were drunk, we weren't careful, so this happened, and now we're dealing with it. That's all there is to it."

"You mean you weren't careful," she mutters, because letting go has never been her forte, even for the small things.

"I was dru—alright, fine, I wasn't careful," he relents, frustration seeping into his tone, and maybe she's developing a complex, or something, because seeing him perturbed by anything she says has been weirdly satisfying these last few weeks. "But we're not together, and we don't have any plan to be. Nothing's changed."

She doesn't know if she imagines it, but she thinks she detects a hint of bitterness at the tail end of his statement, remembers all the things he'd said back in the hallway of the bathroom.

Things have to change. She suddenly feels deflated, almost ashamed, being the one stuck in the same cycle of saying she'll try and never following through. All those years of being tied to a relationship that barely existed, it'd always felt like taking one step forward and two steps back: she had international acclaim, more acting gigs, endorsements that she wouldn't have been offered otherwise, but all of it for a cost, for a life that she'd had to hand in because the role wouldn't let her lead it on her own.

But now she thinks that maybe she was the one holding herself back; hanging on tight to resentment that wasn't even really there anymore, punishing everyone else for the breakdown of a situation that she could have had control over, if she'd just tried hard enough to adapt, to take charge. To change.

"Noona," Kwangsoo says, and she looks up to find his eyebrows drawn together, a vision of concern. "Are you alright?"

She nods, as much of a way of ridding herself of her thoughts as it is an affirmation to Kwangsoo's question. The past can wait; there were things to be handled now, and she refuses to let the present pass her by, wasting her time dwelling.

"I'm good," she says, and gives Haha one more scathing look to show it. "But Gary-oppa's right. Everything's still the same, except we're having a baby."

"You say it as if it's that uncomplicated," Jongkook speaks up, lips pressed together in a thin line. He hadn't said anything throughout the entire length of their elucidation, but he had made some choice faces, not all of them positive, so she knows they're up for a lecture—sensible it may be—right about now. "You guys both know better than anyone that that's not the extent of what people will think."

She slumps even more, doesn't need to be reminded when it's always been, always is, front and center in her mind's eye. "I know."

Beside her, Gary bristles. "Well, what are you trying to say, then? That we shouldn't have it?"

"I'm not trying to say anything," Jongkook says firmly, but he looks a bit taken aback, just as the rest of them circling around the table; Gary's not exactly passive, but he's never been quick to provocation, is always the last to assume the worst of a wayward comment out of the whole cast. "I just want to be sure that you're aware of what it means if you do have it. The public's just started to wane on thinking that you two are even still an item."

"So what?" Gary says, mouth sinking lower in displeasure. With the bow of her head, she can see him squeeze a hand over his knee underneath the table, like he's trying to keep himself from losing control. "Why does that always have to be the first thing we have to take into consideration? I've been gone from the show for almost two years, and I still don't get to live my life how I want it?"

"Not everything happens in a vacuum," Jongkook says, shoulders squared. Dealing with misdirected anger has always been a strong suit of his. She knows, because she's spent years telling him in confidence the same damn thing as Gary's telling him now, over and over again until they'd reached the permutation of friendship they're currently at. "Everything you do after the show's still going to be affected or reflected by it. That's always been the way it works."

"And I'm just supposed to let it? Because that's just how it is?" Gary says, biting out a laugh, a short, harsh sound that's not up to par with his usual mirth. "Look, I've always been thankful for what the show's done for me. I've always said that. But this is too much," he stands up, shaking his head all the while, "My reputation affecting my music? Fine, I've already accepted that. It took time, but I've rebuilt what I needed to rebuild, so all of that's passed now."

He walks past her, elbow brushing across her back when he moves to pocket his hands, "But this is different. This, I won't be able to undo if I miss out on it. I'm done being held back."

He steps out of the private room they've requested at the restaurant, now empty except for the four of them left. It's bereft of any feasible passage to overhear or see what they're doing, to know that they're even there, but with how the industry and fan entitlement works, you could never be sure.

She stands up anyway, indulges the urge to seek him out, doesn't care about spectators for once in her life.

"Jihyo," Jongkook says, before she can slip out, and she turns around to face the grim set of his chin, the protective curve to his back. "Is this what you want?"

People like to think him and Kwangsoo are so different, the punchline to the joke that's them getting along the best out of the cast, off-screen. To her, there's never been much of a separation: Jongkook always cared, just like Kwangsoo, just as much, and she's never felt as honored, as worthy, as it is to know that she'll never be crossed off from their list. 

"It is," she says, gives him a clear, pacifying smile. There was no reason not to, not when she'll always have him, too, if anything may go wrong. "You don't need to worry."

Jongkook stares at her for some time, scrutinizing for the lie she so often gives, but she guesses he doesn't find it when he eventually sighs and waves a hand to shoo her away. "Alright. Go and tell him I asked how's he going to be a father when he's just going to be throwing tantrums like a child at 40 years of age." Both Haha and Kwangsoo snicker, the mood effectively lifted. "Seriously, this kid."

She just laughs, but they both know the answer: once Kang Gary's set himself out to do something, he's never failed to give his best. "Will do, oppa." 

+

It's just like that night: stepping out into a dimly lit space, bombarded by the scent of nicotine, her eyes watering from a direct hit of smoke when Gary drags on an exhale.

"," he says, flinging the cigarette away as if burnt, grinding it out on the tarmac of the street. "You're not supposed to be around this , ."

"It's alright," she appeases, even though it isn't, not really. It's a learning curve, being a parent, so she'll give him time. "I didn't know you smoked this much."

"There's a lot you don't know about me," he says, wafting his arm around to diffuse the remaining smoke. His face twists through the haze, as if he realizes how tropey that sounds, but tropes have always been his specialty, and it's not as if it isn't true. "I don't, usually. Just socially, and when I'm a bit stressed. It's bad for the vocal chords."

Unlike that night, she doesn't need to ask what he's stressed about, already knows, understands. Instead, she says, "I always wanted twins, when I was younger."

He looks at her like they're back four years, calling him the most handsome whenever it's a Monday after they'd already been broken up for the sake of what was re