“This is our new practice room?” Namjoo exclaimed with wide open. Excitedly, she explored the large room with a skip in her step. Bomi followed her, hopping around in a more exaggerated manner. Seeing the two women happily bouncing around the wide room made it difficult to figure out who exactly was the younger one. The way Bomi looked like an excited puppy as she jumped around, Eunji would have guessed that it was her. 

Chorong stood with her hands in her pockets, watching the two grown women run around the room like children. “Yes, we’ve worked hard for—”

“Unnie, look at this giant A!” Hayoung exclaimed. The maknae positioned herself next to the bright sign, forming the letter A with her body by spreading her legs apart and clapping her hands together above her head. 

Eunji half expected Chorong to give her signature sigh, but, instead, Chorong’s eyes lit up, and she took her phone out quickly. “Hayoung-ah, stay just like that!” 

Hayoung straightened up a bit. “Like this?” 

With a wide smile on her face, Eunji ran into the picture, shouting, “Me too! I want to be in this too!” 

“Okay, Eunji-ah, you form the word ‘plan’ and Hayoung-ah, you make the ‘A’!” 

Eunji wriggled her body around. “Am I doing it?” 

Chorong gave her a thumbs-up, then snapped the picture. She brought her phone closer to her eyes and smiled softly at the screen. “I’m going to post this on my Instagram.” 

“Do I at least look good?” Hayoung asked, walking up to Chorong to look at the picture. 

“You do. I’m not so sure what Eunji is doing.” 

“You told me to make the ‘plan’!” Eunji protested. She peered over Chorong’s shoulder to peek at the picture and immediately started laughing. 

“Unnie, you look like you’re getting exorcised,” Naeun commented, also appearing by Chorong’s side. 

“Hey, exorcism is my thing!” Namjoo yelled from the far corner of the room.

Chorong had captured Eunji’s wriggling in not the most flattering way. Her body looked like it was convulsing, and her facial expression was not the prettiest, to say the least. 

“Do you want me to cover your face, Eunji-ah?” Chorong asked. 

“Are you calling me ugly?” 

“You’re very ugly in this picture,” Chorong said automatically. 

“I think I’m ugly in a pretty way,” Eunji grinned. “Keep my face in it.”

“If you say so.”

The picture would become another one of the endless memes that their fans posted everywhere, which Eunji had no problem with. If anything, she found it adorable when their fans saved their ugly pictures, even if it destroyed their image as a girl group. 

Twirling around, Eunji took in the new practice room. She loved the feel of the polished floors, the luminous white walls, and the giant, spotless mirror. Best of all, there was even a water cooler in the corner of the room―something essential that the old room had lacked. Eunji remembered that a few years ago, when they were filming Showtime, the members had wished for an upgraded practice room. And indeed, this was quite the upgrade from their old practice room, which Eunji still loved. She just loved this one more, with its higher ceilings, brand new speakers and microphones, and much larger size. 

“It really is big,” Chorong marveled, her large round eyes sweeping across the room.

Eunji followed Chorong’s eyes around the room that was almost a quarter bigger than their old room. With all this space, there would be no issue of feeling cramped while practicing group dances. “Yeah,” Eunji agreed, “but it’s perfect just like this.”

Now, it wasn’t perfect. The size of the practice room, that is. With one missing member, it felt awfully big, and it made the lack of Chorong’s presence much too obvious. As Eunji sat in the room on the polished floors that she had once loved, the walls seemed to expand continuously, making the size of the room bigger and Chorong’s absence more noticeable. 

Namjoo, Hayoung, and Eunji were gathered in the practice room, though she didn’t really know why they were there. They had just gotten together and decided to go somewhere, and somehow, they had ended up here. Bomi and Naeun, who had said they would stop by a restaurant to bring them food, would be coming later. Considering how they were currently in their off-period, they were seeing each other much more often than normal. Ever since they had moved out of the dorms and had begun their own individual activities, they wouldn’t really meet up every day during their off-periods. But now it was different, for all the wrong reasons. 

Eunji wasn’t complaining; she needed to be with them during a time like this. She just wished that the circumstances that had brought them together were different.

“Are they almost here?” Namjoo asked. To pass time, she had been playing a game that Hayoung had introduced her to.

Eunji checked her phone and answered, “Almost. Give them five or so minutes.”

Hayoung looked up from her phone; she had been playing the same game. “Are you that hungry?” 

“I’m not starving, but the place that I recommended to them has really good fried chicken. They use a special recipe with a secret sauce that has been passed down through the generations of owners. The skin is always perfectly crispy, the meat is so moist that it practically melts in your mouth, and the sauce is sweet and savory and perfectly complements the other components. There’s no other fried chicken like it, really.” Namjoo looked like she was going to salivate just thinking about it. 

Hayoung thought for a second with dreamy eyes, as if she was drawing a picture of the chicken in her mind, then quickly returned back to her phone. “I’ll text them to hurry up.”

Silence fell upon them, but unlike their usual comfortable silence, this one was tense, like a heavy shroud weighing over them. Eunji hated how things had come to this. She wanted so badly to be able to lift the weight on their shoulders, but there was only one way to do that, and she had no way of controlling it.

Namjoo eventually put down her phone and said, “It feels weird.”

Eunji had a feeling that she already knew what she had meant, but she asked anyway, “What does?”

“This room. Doesn’t it feel bigger to you?” 

“Maybe after spending so much time in a small hospital room made the practice room bigger,” Hayoung suggested.

“No, it’s not that.” Then Namjoo began to voice what Eunji had been thinking about. “I know that the room is the same size as it always was. But now it feels kind of empty, like it’s lacking…I don’t know…” 

“A presence,” Eunji finished for her. “Chorong-unnie’s, specifically. That’s what you mean, right?”

Hayoung also set down her phone and looked up a bit sharply. “Bomi-unnie and Naeun-unnie aren’t here either.” 

“I mean it in more of metaphorical way,” Namjoo struggled to explain. “It feels too big now. It feels empty without Chorong-unnie, but at the same time, it feels suffocating. It sounds really confusing, I know, but that’s how it feels.”

Eunji’s chest knotted, not because of how Namjoo was feeling, but because Eunji felt the same way. “I understand,” she said softly.

“I don’t,” Hayoung said rather defiantly. “I don’t feel that way.” A part of Eunji felt that Hayoung did actually feel that way, but she was just in denial about it. 

“I don’t like being in here without Chorong-unnie,” Namjoo admitted.

“You’ve been in here plenty of times without her,” Hayoung said flatly. Namjoo flinched at the harsh tone.

“Hayoung-ah,” Eunji uttered. “You know what she means.”

“I do, but I don’t want to.” Her blunt reply made Eunji blink and wonder if Hayoung had really just said that. 

Namjoo frowned. “Hayoung-ah, is there a problem?”

“Yes, there is. The room feels empty without Chorong-unnie? You’re suffocating? You don’t like being in here anymore? You’re talking like things are never going to get better and that we’ll never bounce back from this.”

“I never said that,” Namjoo objected.

“You didn’t have to.” Hayoung’s voice rose from dull defiance to borderline anger. “I could hear it in your voice and see it in your face. What, have you lost hope? Do you think that we’re going to disband after this?”

“No!”

“What’s gotten into you?” Eunji asked, trying her best to keep her voice level. 

“I’m tired of Namjoo-unnie constantly blaming herself for something that she could have never controlled. I’m tired of her acting like Chorong-unnie died in that accident.” At the thought of Chorong’s death, Namjoo paled. Even Eunji’s heart dropped at the mere mention of it. “I’m tired of her acting like all of a sudden the world is ending and that there’s no coming back from this.”

“Not once has Namjoo-ah ever implied those things,” Eunji defended the other member.

“Maybe you don’t see it, but it’s clear to me.” Hayoung’s eyes flashed with anger as she spat accusingly at Namjoo, “All of your tears tell me enough. You’re crying because you’re worried like all of us, yes, but also because you think that this will be the end of Apink.” 

Namjoo’s lack of a response was enough of a response. Eunji felt a deep pit forming in her stomach. “Is this true, Namjoo-ah?”

Namjoo only looked at Eunji with sad, teary eyes that betrayed guilt, anguish, and anger all at once. 

“Answer, Unnie,” Hayoung pressed. 

The brunette lowered her head. Her reply came out in a small whisper: “Apink would have never happened without Chorong-unnie.” 

That was what Naeun had said at dinner after their concert. At that time, her words were touching and implied nothing but gratefulness and happiness, but now they had taken a whole other meaning. 

“I agree that Apink would not have happened without Chorong-unnie,” Hayoung said. “As in, she played an irreplaceable role in its foundation. We all did. But thinking that we are nothing without her...that’s just one-sided, don’t you think?” 

“So what are you saying?” At this point, anger was becoming Namjoo’s dominant emotion. “That we’ll be okay without Chorong-unnie? That she’s dispensable?” 

It was Hayoung’s turn to flinch. 

Eunji threw Namjoo a look of horror. “Don’t ever say something like that again. I never want to hear Chorong-unnie’s name, or any of our names, and the word dispensable in the same sentence ever again.” 

“It seemed like Hayoung-ah was implying just that.” Namjoo glared at the maknae, who returned the look with an even more vicious gaze.

“Namjoo-unnie, as the youngest and second youngest, we have always been together. I thought you would know me like the back of your hand by now.” Hayoung laughed bitterly. “But if you seriously think that I would ever think that way, then maybe you don’t know me at all.” 

For a second, all the fury in Namjoo’s expression disappeared, replaced by another emotion that Eunji could only identify as fear―fear that the precious friendship between her and Hayoung was breaking. Watching the two women argue, Eunji felt that same fear settling into her gut. The two younger members had fought before, but never like this. 

“Stop it you two,” Eunji intervened. “Hayoung-ah, you don’t mean that.”

“Whose side are you on?” Namjoo snapped abruptly.

“What?”

“You keep telling us that we don’t mean things that we say, but how would you know?” Namjoo said. “Whose side are you on, exactly?”

Eunji looked back and forth between the younger members, at a loss for words. She felt caught in an awkward position between them; she loved both of them dearly and didn’t want to lose any of them because of this. “No one’s. I’m not going to choose a side.”

“Don’t try to drag Eunji-unnie into this.” Hayoung pointed an accusing finger at Namjoo. “My problem is that you think that there will be no Apink without Chorong-unnie. So what, then? We’d just disband if we lose a member? Yookyung-unnie left a few years ago, but we’re still here, performing and making new songs for our fans. For the past nine years, we have overcome so many obstacles and have built Apink to be the strong group that it is. What you’re saying is that what we built is not strong enough to withstand some more obstacles. That our bond as Apink―all of our hard work for the past decade―is so weak that it would just crumble in the face of adversity.”

“Chorong-unnie is the glue to our group!” Namjoo argued back. “We would not have gotten this far without her. Forgive me for worrying about the fate of our group without our leader.”

“She is not the glue of our group!” When Namjoo gave her an incredulous look, Hayoung rolled her eyes. “Oh, don’t give me that look. I’m not undermining all of the hard work that Chorong-unnie has put into this group. I know as well as you do that she has put the most effort into Apink, but contrary to popular belief, she is not the glue of the group. We are. You, me, Eunji-unnie, Naeun-unnie, Bomi-unnie, and Chorong-unnie―we are all the glue of Apink. Yes, I’ll admit that as our leader, Chorong-unnie plays a bigger role in being the glue or backbone of our group, but in the end, it’s our love for each other that really holds us together.”

In spite of the tense situation, Hayoung’s outburst touched Eunji. It almost made her smile, but she stopped herself. 

“So you’re saying that we’ll be completely fine with or without Chorong-unnie?” Namjoo had stood up in a fury. “Chorong-unnie has worked so hard to make sure that Apink has become as successful as it is. She faces so much pressure just to make sure that we’re okay. Whenever we need help, we turn to her because she’s our leader, but whenever she needs help, who does she turn to? Maybe you don’t see it, but I do, and it kills me inside that no matter how many times we tell her that she can turn to us for her troubles, she still hides her feelings from us so we can see her as our strong, dependable leader. She has set aside her own troubles for our sakes for nine years. And what you’re implying is that all that doesn’t matter and that her sacrifices don’t mean anything to you!”

“Stop saying that I mean things that I don’t really mean!” Hayoung yelled, also standing up angrily. “I know that Chorong-unnie has suffered and sacrificed so much for our sakes. I know and I love and respect her for it. I always will, okay? She has worked so hard to build Apink into what it is, and if we were to just disband without her, that would be a huge disgrace to all her hard work.” She took a moment to take a deep breath. “Namjoo-unnie, what is our dream?” 

“Why are you asking me this all of a sudden?”

“Just answer the damn question!”

“We have a lot of dreams,” Namjoo said stubbornly, which Eunji supposed wasn’t entirely incorrect.

“Oh, for God’s sake.” Hayoung threw her hands up exasperatedly, and turned to Eunji. “What is our dream, Eunji-unnie?”

“To be the longest lasting idol group,” Eunji replied automatically. Of all their dreams, this was their biggest one.

“Right. And how are we supposed to achieve that if you’re thinking like this, Namjoo-unnie?”

“Our dream is to become the longest lasting idol group together! That means with Chorong-unnie!”

“Sometimes things don’t go according to plan!” Hayoung yelled. “Sorry to be a realist, but that’s just how life is. Even without Chorong-unnie, there will be an Apink. We won’t be the same Apink, but we’ll still exist.”

“Can you stop acting like Chorong-unnie will never wake up?” Namjoo cried.

“Can you stop being a―”

“Stop it!”

Both Namjoo and Hayoung froze and turned to Eunji with their red, tear-streaked faces. It hadn’t been Eunji who had screamed for them to stop, though, yet she wished she had. She had felt so useless during the whole heated argument and had wanted to somehow stop them and force them to make amends. But she had just sat there, watching two of her closest friends fighting and risking their friendship. 

So when Bomi entered the room and ordered them to stop with a strong voice, Eunji was beyond grateful.

“What the hell are you guys doing?” Bomi demanded, walking in between the two arguing girls. Naeun was behind her, holding a takeout bag and looking very confused and concerned.

“Hayoung thinks that everything will be fine, regardless of whether or not Chorong-unnie wakes up,” Namjoo said bitterly.

“Namjoo-unnie thinks that this is the end of Apink,” Hayoung uttered.

Bomi’s eyes swept back and forth between the two younger women, as if trying to decide which one she should yell at first. “What you were arguing about is the least of my worries,” she finally said. “I care more about the fact that you two were seriously starting a fight in a time where we should be there for each other. You two should be helping each other, not causing more trouble!” 

“Unnie, you don’t understand. Namjoo-unnie―”

Bomi cut Hayoung off with a wave of her hand. “Oh, I don’t understand? Let me give you the gist of the situation from my point of view, then you can tell me whether or not I understand, okay?” Namjoo and Hayoung shut their mouths and stood rigidly, like they were scared of Bomi. Eunji empathized; she had never seen Bomi so angry before, and the ferocity in her eyes and tone had Eunji’s breath caught in . “Namjoo said something Hayoung didn’t agree with, and Hayoung said something Namjoo didn’t agree with. Both things probably had their own flaws and truths, but you guys refuse to recognize the latter of the other person’s argument. Instead of accepting the other person’s standing or trying to peacefully convince them otherwise, you guys decided that it was best to forget everything Chorong-unnie has taught us about communication and start a fight. Am I getting everything right so far?”

Sullenly, both Namjoo and Hayoung nodded.

“Is this what we’re going to do now? Instead of comforting each other in our times of need, we’re going to pick fights?” 

“Unnie,” Hayoung tried saying, but was cut off again.

“It blows my mind that Chorong-unnie is lying in a coma right now and you two are choosing to make use of your time like this. It’s like all of a sudden, without our leader, you’ve chosen to abandon the respect that you have for yourselves and each other. You are better than this. We are better than this!”

Namjoo challenged, “How are you so sure about that? Because evidently―”

“Because we are a family!” Bomi shouted with so much intensity that it shut Namjoo up immediately. “Because we are Apink and we are a family! We stick together no matter what, and in times of hardships, we make sure we all make it through together.”

With the bag of chicken still in her hands, Naeun shifted over to Eunji’s side and sat down to her right. Silently, Naeun gripped Eunji’s hand, which she hadn’t noticed was trembling. Eunji gave the visual of their group a small smile of appreciation. Like her, Naeun was caught between the two opposing sides, and she was probably also praying internally that this argument wouldn’t leave a permanent mark on their friendship. 

“Now, I don’t have the context of your arguments, but I think I understand enough from what you two have told me.” Bomi turned to Namjoo, who had begun to look more guilty than angry. “Whatever you think is going to happen, Apink will not disband. That’s a fact. Unless the bond that we have formed over the past nine years is fake, which I know for certain is not, Apink will persevere, just like the rest of us will. I’ll make sure of that, Chorong-unnie will make sure of that, we will all make sure of that, since I think it’s pretty safe to say that none of us want Apink to disband.” 

Then Bomi turned to Hayoung sharply. “Hayoung-ah, is a three-legged dog the same as a four-legged dog?”

That caught Eunji off guard, and it certainly caught Hayoung off guard too. “What?”

“Is a three-legged dog the same as a four-legged dog? It’s a pretty straight-forward question.”

“No, it’s not.”

“Would it be able to run as well as a four-legged dog?”

Again, Hayoung answered, “No.”

“The same applies to us. Yes, without Chorong-unnie, Apink would still be able to function, but not at the same capacity. We would be missing our leader, one of our irreplaceable members, our older sister, and our precious friend. I don’t even want to consider the possibility of Chorong-unnie never coming back to us, but if she doesn’t, things won’t be the same and that’s a fact. We would heal and get through it together, like we always do, but Apink without Chorong-unnie is just that: Apink without Chorong-unnie. As in, we would still be a group, but we’d be lacking a vital part of us.”

Hayoung’s fists were in tight balls at her side, and her knuckles had turned bone-white. She bit her lip and nodded, her gaze pointed downward, as if in shame.

“Seriously, guys...,” Bomi sighed frustratedly, setting her hands on her hips.

And suddenly Eunji saw it.

When Eunji looked at Bomi, she saw Chorong in her. From the way she stood, the authoritative tone in her voice, and even her sigh, she was so clearly Chorong. Suddenly, Eunji knew why Bomi had been acting the way she had been. It was coming together like the pieces of a puzzle that had taken far too long to complete.

Bomi was trying to take Chorong’s place as their leader while Chorong wasn’t able to. And Eunji would bet all her money that she was doing it because she felt some sort of responsibility as the second eldest of their group. 

Without being asked, Bomi had assumed the role, knowing full well that she’d have to set aside her own pain for the sake of her members. Her unusual maturity, air of authority, lack of tears...it was so clear now. This whole time, Bomi had been trying to make sure that all of the members were okay, since Chorong wasn’t there to do it. In doing so, she had been neglecting herself, and the members, who had been so blinded by their own pain, hadn’t been able to notice. 

“I’m sorry, Unnie,” Namjoo apologized after a moment of tense silence.

“I appreciate the apology, but,” Bomi’s eyes flickered to Hayoung, “I don’t think I’m the one you should be apologizing to.”

Both Hayoung and Namjoo shared a glance, but neither of them said a word. They only looked at each other, then looked away with conflicted expressions.

Bomi sighed again. “Alright, I get it, you two need some time apart to think it over. That makes sense.” She glanced down and checked her phone for a quick second. “But you’re going to have to wait. CEO Choi called a few minutes ago. He wants us in his office in five minutes, so keep your curse words and deadly glares to yourselves for the time being.” 

“Why does he need to talk to us?” Eunji inquired, standing up obediently. 

Almost immediately, Bomi’s stern expression vanished, replaced by one of apprehension. “The press. They’ve found out about the accident.”