At the age of 17, Kim Yongsun had come upon the realization that as far as natural talent was concerned, she was average. She keeps her head low as her father berates her, waving a round a piece of paper like it was her death sentence.

“You think these grades are okay? You sister wasn’t like this when she was your age. Where did your mother and I go wrong, huh?” He’s frantic. And loud. But Yongsun knows he’s only like this because he cares. She keeps shut.

“I’m disappointed, but I know you can do better than this Yongsun, you just have to work harder. It’s not too late to get into a good university if you just work hard from now on.” He drops the paper down on the table between them. “I expect better next time.”

It burns. It’s suffocating. Yongsun waits for her father to finish evaluating her in his eyes, waits for him to sigh, and get up and leave back to his office. When she’s finally alone, she picks up the paper. She had passed everything, the numbers all average. It wasn’t enough.

She stops hanging out with her friends. She stops playing. She stops dancing. She stops singing. One year later, Yongsun is all alone, but when she gets her acceptance letter, her parents finally hold their tongues, and she breathes a sigh of relief.

Byulyi leans outside the doorway of a practice room. The door is cracked slightly open, rendering the soundproof walls totally useless. She stands there, and listens, and feels the corners of her lips pull down, the muscles of her brow tighten.

“Do you know how much time and money you are wasting with this? You sister is studying in England, she’s getting a Master’s! The least you can do is get a respectable job. You need to stop this nonsense and go back to school.”

“I don’t have time to go to school.”

“So I’m telling you to quit playing around! I don’t understand why you are being so unreasonable now. Yongsun, you already put in two years. Who knows if this idol business is going to go anywhere? You are already 22.”

“Dad, I have to do this. I signed a contract. And I want to.” Yongsun’s voice is getting smaller and smaller.

“You foolish daughter of mine. How could you sign something like that without telling us in the first place, huh? Don’t bother showing your face to me unless you’re back on track to getting a degree. Do you understand me, Kim Yongsun?”

Yongsun feels a familiar anxiety choke her. She feels her heart throbbing against her chest, trying to break out, trying to run away. She doesn’t know what to say, and then she feels a warm hand envelop her own.

Yongsun looks up in shock and shame but Byulyi doesn’t make eye contact, simply stares at their hands, interlaces their fingers, and squeezes. It’s simple, quiet comfort.

Yongsun inhales deeply.

“I understand, dad.”

“Good. I’ll see you tonight and we can call your university.”

Click.

Yongsun lets her phone drop to her lap and lets Byulyi keep silently caress her fingers. Byulyi is warm, her movements are soft, and her eyes gentle. Yongsun doesn’t crumble, doesn’t break down and cry, but she lets Byulyi take both her hands now and massage them like she’s trying to rub her phone conversation away.

“You should move in with me and Hyejin.” Byulyi finally says.

“What?”

“It’s a lot of fun. I promise.” Byulyi smiles at her. “Stay with me tonight, you’ll see.” She looks into Yongsun’s eyes, and Yongsun sees a way out. Don’t go home. Stay with us.

Yongsun considers it for a moment. Considers not going home, making good on her father’s words, and realizes he’s right. She’s 22. She can do what she wants.

“Okay.”

“Hey Byul.”

“Mm?”

“Do you think we’ll make it?”

“Hmm. I think so. I hope so.”

“…Me too.”

“Hey, next time your parents call they’ll be asking for concert tickets.”

“Hah!”

“We’ll be great, Yong, don’t worry. We just have to keep up the hard work.”

“Yeah, you’re right. Just got to keep working.”

“Hey hey hey what are you doing here?! Wake up, Unnie!”

Yongsun jerks awake so hard she feels the muscle in her neck twist. Again. “Ah! Ahhh, Byul-ah.” She calls to her rude awakener. Byulyi to her credit goes directly to massaging the area at the back of her neck.

“Why are you sleeping here Yong? I told you to stop doing this. It’s definitely not helping your neck.”

“I’m working on something.” Yongsun excuses.

“Really? Because it looks to me like you were sleeping.” Byulyi raises an eyebrow. Her hand smooths over the bump of Yongsun’s neck and glides down her back. She speaks again, softer. “Why didn’t you just go home?”

“I’m more productive in the studio.” Yongsun shrugs her hand away, feeling stiff and a bit cranky.

Byulyi frowns. “I think you’re more productive after a proper rest.”

“I don’t care what you think, I’m in the middle of something.” Yongsun brushes her off, looking over the papers scattered all around her.

Byulyi feels her jaw clench in frustration before letting out a long sigh. “Look, I didn’t come here to fight.”

“Then why are you bothering me?” Yongsun asks shortly, and it’s all Byulyi can do to stop from pulling at her hair.

She grabs the armrests of Yongsun’s chair and twists so that they’re facing each other, tearing Yongsun’s shallow focus away from her compositions. Before the older woman can voice her protests, Byulyi speaks.

“Yonghee-unnie asked if you were with me, since you didn’t come home last night.”

That makes Yongsun pause. Her sister always did have a soft spot for her. “I’ll call her later.” She begins turning back to the desk. Byulyi stops her again.

“Or,” She takes Yongsun’s hands so they can’t go back to scribbling on papers. “You can come home with me now. And we can get you breakfast. When did you last eat?”

Yongsun shrugs. Byulyi sighs again.

“I have to keep working Byul, I can’t be lazy.”

“Snap out of it and look at yourself,” Byulyi actually snaps in front of her eyes, making Yongsun blink twice. “Resting isn’t lazy. Taking care of yourself isn’t lazy. Jeez Yong, you’re gonna give me wrinkles if you keep doing this.” She points to the spot between her brows. “Right here. Do you see? This wrinkle is just for you.”

There is a tiny crease there, and it’s enough to make Yongsun breathe out a tired laugh. “Fine, I’ll come home and sleep in a bed.” She concedes, making Byulyi grin.

As they gather the stray half-filled music sheets, Yongsun once again considers the papers in her hands, and feels a nostalgic weight in them, a piece of paper she held like this, 10 years prior.

“I always feel like I’m running out of time.” She thinks out loud.

Byulyi flicks her forehead, bringing out a pout. “Yeba,” she laughs, light and easy, “who’s keeping track?”