Chaeryeong sees Ryujin for the first time in one of JYPE's many practice rooms. 

She’s seated on the floor, absentmindedly stretching out her calves, strands of hair sticking to her sweaty forehead, when a staff member steps into the room with a new trainee, who is introduced as Shin Ryujin, and looks to be around Chaeryeong’s age. 

Chaeryeong watches quietly from the corner as Ryujin bows to the room amidst the other trainee’s greetings; she takes in the way Ryujin’s fingers fiddle with the hem of her hoodie, the way her eyes curve to mask her nervousness, soft cheeks rounding into a disarming smile, and thinks, this girl could be trouble. 

She tries not to think too much about it. Trainees come and go all the time, even the pretty ones, and Shin Ryujin could be gone within the month. The shortest time Chaeryeong’s seen someone stay for is six days, after they’d decided the rigorous dance routines and unforgiving evaluations were part of a life they didn’t want. 

Though there’s admittedly something about this new trainee that draws the eye. As Ryujin passes through the room, nodding politely as the accompanying staff member introduces her to the trainees scattered around, Chaeryeong finds herself watching her out of the corner of her eye, curiosity piqued. 

She blinks herself out of the haze. Concentrate. She doesn’t have time for distractions. Her recent elimination from Sixteen still stings, fresh in her memory. She has to get better, needs to get better, despite her aching limbs and the blisters on her feet.

Leaning more deeply into her stretch, she relishes in the slow burn that creeps through her muscles, and almost doesn’t notice when two sets of footsteps draw close. She looks up from her calves to see Shin Ryujin smiling hesitantly down at her. 

“Chaeryeong, you’re one of the best dancers here, right? Mind teaching Ryujin the routine?” the staff member says. Chaeryeong opens to say yes, but the staff member is already nodding briskly and turning to leave. 

“I think he’s been secretly dying to get rid of me all morning,” Ryujin pipes up beside her, as the practice room door swings shut behind him. 

“Really?” Chaeryeong deadpans. “What gave it away?”

Ryujin grins at that, a little dimple denting her cheek as she does, and Chaeryeong is unable to tear her eyes away.

Oh, this girl is definitely trouble. 

 

---

 

Fortunately or unfortunately, they don't interact much, at first.

Chaeryeong still catches glimpses of her from across the practice room from time to time, and she watches her when she doesn't have anything better to do, curious to see how the new trainee is getting along. Ryujin had told her on her first day that she didn’t have much of a background in dancing, and it shows—she barely scrapes by the first evaluation with a C.

Ryujin doesn't leave the practice room much after that.

Chaeryeong sees her dancing in front of the mirror, her movements stilted and awkward, when she leaves for her lunch break, when she's back from a dinner break, when she leaves at the end of the day to head home. Ryujin reminds her of herself when she'd first been eliminated from Sixteen, exhaustion her eyes and seeping through her bones.

Chaeryeong pauses as she’s about to leave one day, at the end of the day when everyone’s trickled out of the practice room and only she and Ryujin are left. She s her backpack. 

“Here,” she says hesitantly, holding out what’s left of the snack in her bag. 

Ryujin blinks at it. “Bungeoppang?”

Chaeryeong pushes it into her hands. “You’ll dance better with some food in you.”

Ryujin is looking at the bungeoppang like she’s never seen anything like it before.

"Thanks,” she says after a while. There’s a little smile playing around the corners of . 

“It’s okay to take breaks sometimes, you know,” Chaeryeong tells her. It’s what she wishes someone had told her when she’d spent long nights in front of the practice room mirrors, pushing herself to the brink of near collapse. “Sometimes all you need is a fresh start.”

Ryujin nods slowly. “I’ll try to keep that in mind.”

 

---

 

As time passes, Chaeryeong sees Ryujin's movements grow sharper, more powerful. She catches herself watching Ryujin dance for longer periods of time, less out of curiosity now and more because she can't seem to tear her eyes away. Ryujin has, she noticed, become particularly adept at popping, something that most other trainees struggle with.

Watching her dance is a little hypnotising. Chaeryeong allows herself to get distracted, if just for a little while. She tells herself it's to improve her own technique.

Ryujin passes the next dance evaluation with flying colours.

Chaeryeong is entranced.

 

---

 

A few weeks later, Chaeryeong finds herself in front of the big mirrors in the dance practice room, wearing out her sneakers on the wooden floors. She’s learned the choreography—but something still seems off to her, somehow. It feels like one of those days where her body isn’t doing what she wants it to do.

She sighs, dabbing at her sweaty forehead with the heel of her hand. For better or worse, she has a stubborn streak that runs a mile long. She’s not going to stop until she’s perfected this dance. 

It’s going to be a long night. 

Chaeryeong raises her arm again as the bass blares in her ears, tensing her body in preparation, but falters as the door to the practice room swings open.

Shin Ryujin pokes her head in inquisitively, dark hair falling into her eyes. 

“Sorry,” she says when their eyes meet. “I didn’t think anyone would still be in here.”

“It’s okay,” Chaeryeong says, lowering her arms. 

“Do you—” Ryujin hesitates “—mind if I join you? I’m trying to learn this dance too.”

Chaeryeong presses a button to restart the track, offering a quick smile. “Sure.”

They dance together, side by side. Chaeryeong stares critically at her own reflection in the mirror, barely aware of the other girl dancing beside her, until the song stops and Ryujin lets out a frustrated noise. 

“What is it?” Chaeryeong says, startled.

“I can’t get this part right.” Ryujin moves her arm, snaps it upward like the choreography dictates, but she doesn't seem satisfied. Chaeryeong catches her arm.

"I think it'll be better if you move like this—" she gently guides her arm upward "—but isolate the rest of your body. It looks cleaner."

She draws Ryujin's arm down, completing the movement. Ryujin blinks at their reflections in the mirror. "Oh. When you put it like that, it looks...easy."

"Keep going," Chaeryeong prompts, nudging her other arm. Ryujin moves onto the next part of the choreography, raising her arms above her head. "I think it'd be nicer if you were a little more fluid here."

Ryujin stares at her in the mirror, blankly. Chaeryeong's hands settle on her hips. "If you move your hips while you snap your arms up, like this..."

The smaller girl's body is stiff and unyielding under her touch. Chaeryeong pats her lightly, frowning. "Loosen up a little. You'll dance better."

"Okay." Ryujin lets out a slow breath, her eyes flicking up to meet hers. Her body tenses, then relaxes under Chaeryeong's hands. "Okay."

She does the move again like Chaeryeong suggested, and stares at herself in the mirror. She does it again, then breaks out into a wide grin. "Oh. That does look better."

Excitedly, she finishes the step, leaning back as per the choreography, and stumbles a little in her excitement, right into Chaeryeong's arms. Chaeryeong hastily catches her as she staggers, her arms slipping around Ryujin's waist. "Are you okay?"

"Oops. That was dumb." Ryujin turns to face her, flashing her another bright grin, tinged with embarrassment. "I'm fine now. Thanks for catching me."

Little dimples crease her cheeks as she continues to grin sheepishly. Chaeryeong slowly becomes aware of how they’re so close their noses are nearly brushing, of how she can feel Ryujin's breath fan lightly across her lips. Ryujin's skin is soft under hers, her hands warm where they're gripping onto Chaeryeong's forearms. Heat starts to creep into her cheeks, something she can't put a name to taking root in her chest, tentatively unfurling into warmth.

"I'm not usually that clumsy," Ryujin is saying, and Chaeryeong snaps herself out of it, flustered, taking a sizeable step back.

"It's okay," she says, looking everywhere but at Ryujin. She's grateful she hadn't bothered to turn on all the lights when she started practicing; the dim lighting does well to mask her crimson cheeks.

Ryujin doesn't seem to notice. "So, what brings you here?"

"Huh?"

"You're an amazing dancer already," Ryujin says bluntly. "You don't need to be stuck in the practice room after everyone's gone home."

Chaeryeong shakes her head, coming back to her senses. "I don't know. It just doesn't look right, no matter how I dance."

"It looked right to me."

Chaeryeong makes a face. Ryujin her head at her thoughtfully, then smiles.

"You know..." She makes a show of glancing furtively around and beckoning Chaeryeong closer, even though they're the only ones in the practice room. Chaeryeong looks at her strangely, but leans in anyway.

"I have bungeoppang in my bag," Ryujin whispers conspiratorially.

They're not allowed to bring food into the practice rooms, as a general rule of thumb. Chaeryeong stifles a laugh.

"C'mon. You gave me one last time when I was hungry, so I owe you one." Ryujin nudges her, eyes twinkling. "Sometimes all you need is a fresh start, right?"

Chaeryeong rolls her eyes, but she's smiling. "Okay, okay."

They end up sitting cross-legged on the floor in the dim light, tearing off bits of the fluffy pastry and pushing them into their mouths, savouring the sweetness of the red bean filling. The bungeoppang is a little smushed from being stuffed inside Ryujin's bag for so long, and it's gotten a little cold, but Ryujin is shooting her discreet smiles in between bites like they're doing something they shouldn't be, her cheeks stuffed, and Chaeryeong thinks it might be the best she's ever had.

When they're done, Ryujin gets to her feet, holding her hand out. "Let's try it again."

Chaeryeong takes her hand, letting herself be tugged to her feet, and goes over to start the music. They move to the song in tandem, their steps confident, sure. She can't help but think the dance looks better when Ryujin is dancing alongside her, her powerful, staccato movements contrasting with and complementing her own fluid, graceful dancing.

When the song ends, Chaeryeong steps back. A satisfied smile works its way onto her face. Ryujin is grinning at her.

"Does it look right to you now?"

"Yeah," Chaeryeong breathes. Her heart is pounding in her chest from the exertion, but she can feel something else curling there, something that pulses insistently against her bone as she meets Ryujin's eyes in the mirror. "It does."

 

---

 

One week passes, then another. Chaeryeong finds that hours spent laboriously working on her dancing technique are much more bearable with Ryujin by her side, cracking inappropriate jokes and sharing forbidden late-night snacks in the practice room after everyone has left for the day.

"Need a little help there?" Chaeryeong would often tease as she walks past Ryujin tiptoeing to retrieve her bag from the lockers again.

"We're the same height," Ryujin would grumble back, at which Chaeryeong would put a condescending hand on her head.

"Mm...I don't think so. I'm still a little taller."

"Just you wait, Lee Chaeryeong," Ryujin would always say. "When we grow up, I'll be taller than you."

The warm, fluttery feeling doesn't leave her chest even after she becomes closer to Ryujin, unlike what she'd hoped, but Chaeryeong finds she doesn't really mind all that much.

Ryujin isn't as much of a distraction as Chaeryeong initially feared she'd be. On the contrary—she's someone who makes practices interesting, who reminds Chaeryeong to take breaks when her feet hurt and her eyes burn, who pushes Chaeryeong to get better at singing, dancing, and everything really, so that maybe, just maybe she'd one day be able to debut alongside Ryujin in the same group.

"What if we don't make it?" she wonders one day. They've just finished a rigorous dance practice; she and Ryujin have collapsed side by side onto the floor of the practice room. Ryujin is panting, hair sticking to her sweaty forehead. She turns to look at Chaeryeong.

"We will," she says.

"You don't know that."

"It'll be a crime if you don't debut," Ryujin says. "They'd be blind."

Chaeryeong gives her a light shove. "It'll be a crime if you don't debut," she says, and means it. Ryujin, who is now arguably one of the best dancers among the trainees, who turns heads with her low, unique timbre; Ryujin, who draws everyone's attention just by walking into a room.

"So we're both debuting, then."

Chaeryeong gives her another shove, a little harder, this time. "Don't jinx it."

Ryujin just grins at her, dimples denting her cheeks.

They fall silent. Chaeryeong absentmindedly plays with Ryujin's fingers. It's gradually become a habit—fiddling with Ryujin's hands when she has nothing to do with her own. Ryujin doesn't seem to mind, so she's never really put much effort into breaking the habit.

"Do you think we'll debut together?" Chaeryeong says. "In the same group?"

Ryujin doesn't say anything for a while, just watches her play with her fingers. Then she looks at Chaeryeong, her face for once devoid of any of its usual mischief. "I hope so."

"What if we don't?"

A little crease appears between Ryujin's eyebrows as she thinks. "We—we'd still see each other around, I guess. We're in the same company."

"Yeah, but..." she trails off. She doesn't want to just see Ryujin around in the company building. Ryujin's finger curls in her grasp, tightening around her pinkie, as if she's thinking the same thing.

"We're going to be in the same group," Ryujin tells her firmly.

"You don't know that," Chaeryeong says again.

"They can't separate us," Ryujin says, all round cheeks and defiance. Chaeryeong has to hide a smile, despite herself.

"Okay. I believe you."

The months go by. They celebrate their fifteenth birthdays; Ryujin in March and Chaeryeong a few months after. Evaluations come and go. Chaeryeong and Ryujin top every single one.

A new trainee comes in the form of a lithe girl with a sharp smile and striking eyes. She's a fearsome dancer, her moves sharp and powerful, and Chaeryeong almost feels intimidated by her—until one day the music stops and the new girl turns and an open, friendly smile warms her face as she meets Chaeryeong's eyes, and all of Chaeryeong's previous reservations about her melt away instantly. Chaeryeong learns her name is Hwang Yeji, and they become fast friends over their shared love for dancing and old music.

Not long after, they're introduced to another trainee named Yuna, who's tall and vivacious and good at everything. Chaeryeong watches as she stumbles into the practice room one day, messy-haired and bleary-eyed, apologetic over being late yet again because she'd gotten off at the wrong stop and had gotten tempted by the siren call of manjoo and hot coffee, as she'd put it. Her eyes are wide and contrite, her insistence to make it up to them endearingly earnest, and Chaeryeong decides then and there that Shin Yuna is someone she'd like to befriend.

It takes another year before they meet the next addition to their little group.

Chaeryeong hears her before she sees her. She's walking past the practice rooms with Ryujin one day on the way to lunch, when she hears someone singing what sounds like a Kehlani song in one of them, their voice low, husky and so beautiful her skin prickles with goosebumps. She grabs Ryujin's arm. Ryujin just nods, looking as mesmerised as she feels, her gaze trained on the practice room door.

That's how they end up becoming friends with Choi Jisu—both of them try to peek discreetly around the practice room door to catch a glimpse of the owner of the beautiful voice and said owner notices them immediately, her face splitting into a charming smile that curves her eyes and dimples her cheeks. Chaeryeong can't help but stare a little longer than she should—mostly because the whisker dimple reminds her uncannily of Ryujin's. Next to her, Ryujin seems similarly floored, stuttering through her greeting, so Chaeryeong is grateful she at least doesn't come off that embarrassing—relatively speaking.

Other trainees come and go, but Ryujin, Yeji, Yuna, and Jisu become her constants.

Chaeryeong watches them as they pelt down the stairs at full speed after a late night's practice, Yeji and Jisu yelling mangled variations of we're going to miss the last train!, Yuna frantically dialling her dad to make sure he'd already ordered pizza, Ryujin shaking her head and telling nobody in particular they're not going to make it and they might as well head to the nearest restaurant so they'd at least have something to eat.

She thinks about how hard she pushed herself to try and debut; all those long, lonely nights spent in front of the practice room mirror stumbling over her weary, aching feet and being overly critical of her own dancing. Chaeryeong still pushes herself, but now she has four other girls by her side to keep her company during long nights in the practice room, to remind her to take breaks, to show her the light even in the darkest of days.

Chaeryeong thinks she wouldn't trade them for the world.

 

---

 

They're told they're going to debut in the same group. All five of them.

Chaeryeong can hardly believe it.

Her head is reeling, her pulse rushing in her ears. The others huddle together around her, whispering, but it buzzes in her ears unintelligibly. She doesn't fully register how dumbstruck she is until she feels a small hand teasingly nudge her side. Blinking rapidly, she comes to her senses.

"Stop spacing out," Ryujin whispers. Her eyes shine. "We're going to debut."

"We're going to debut," Chaeryeong whispers back. She lets out a disbelieving laugh. "We're going to debut," she repeats.

She probably sounds like a broken record, but Ryujin's soft, knowing gaze is nothing but understanding. "You and me," she says. She slips her hands into Chaeryeong's. "We're debuting together. I told you we would."

"You did." Chaeryeong squeezes her hands, laughing shakily.

"They'd be stupid not to put us together," Ryujin says, as if more for her own comfort than for Chaeryeong's.

"I know." Chaeryeong whispers, squeezing her hands again. She hesitates, then throws her arms around Ryujin, pulling her into a tight hug. Ryujin stiffens in surprise, making a startled noise against her shoulder, then relaxes in her hold. Chaeryeong feels her arms slip quietly around her waist. "I know."

 

---

 

A week before they debut, Chaeryeong drops to the practice room floor in frustration, head in her hands. Her body feels too weak and too stiff all at once; it isn't moving like how she wants it to, how it's supposed to.

She feels something nudge her shoulder. Ryujin sits beside her, eyebrow raised. "What's up with you?"

Chaeryeong makes a face. "It's one of those days."

"Nothing looks right?"

She nods.

Ryujin's forehead wrinkles as she thinks. Chaeryeong has the strangest urge to press her finger to the adorable little crease forming between her brows, despite her anxiety. Her hand twitches by her side.

"Let's take a break," Ryujin says suddenly.

"We just went to get coffee."

"Practice is done, anyway," Yeji cuts in from where she's sitting by the mirrors, Jisu's head on her shoulder. "We should all be going back to the dorm to rest."

"No," Ryujin and Chaeryeong say at the same time.

Chaeryeong giggles. Their leader is trying her best to look stern, but with her eyes narrowing and lips pushing together in a disapproving pout, she just looks adorably petulant.

"I'll head back after I get this part right," she promises.

"I'm staying back with her," Ryujin says, when Yeji turns her frown onto her.

"Alright." Yeji rubs tiredly at her eyes. "Don't stay out too late, okay?"

"We won't." Ryujin turns to her. "C'mon."

"We just went to get coffee," Chaeryeong says again.

"We're not going to get coffee." Ryujin tugs on her hand. Chaeryeong lets herself be pulled along, screwing up her face in mock complaint the whole way. They walk past Yuna going over the chorus for their debut song, eyes trained critically on her reflection in the mirrors; past Yeji and Jisu, utterly fatigued and leaning on each other for support on the practice room floor.

Jisu looks up, shooting them a tired smile, her eyes curving into crescents. "Bye. Have fun."

Chaeryeong feels Ryujin's steps falter next to her. Her free hand runs through her hair, then drops to her side, as if she can't quite decide what to do with it. "...Bye, unnie."

She looks between Ryujin and Jisu.

Chaeryeong isn't blind; she's seen Ryujin's gaze lingering on Jisu when she thinks no one else is watching, how her eyes shine with admiration whenever Jisu's face lights up with one of her signature smiles. But there's no way Ryujin likes Jisu, or anything like that—half the trainees in the building look at Jisu that way when she sings.

Right?

A little seed of doubt sows itself in her chest as they smile at each other for a beat longer. Then Ryujin's pulling her out the practice room door, over to the lockers so they can grab their coats.

"Let's go," she says. Her cheeks are a little pink. Chaeryeong's chest prickles with something uncomfortable again.

"Where?" she asks.

Ryujin shrugs on her coat. "Secret."

She takes Chaeryeong's hand again, tugging them down the hallway, turning to flash her a brief, jaunty grin. The blush is nowhere to be seen on her cheeks, replaced by two dimples that dent her cheeks like little whiskers. Chaeryeong's uneasiness fades as she smiles back, letting herself be pulled along.

"Trust me."

 

---

 

Ryujin's "secret" is a park.

"It's February," Chaeryeong tells her dryly, as they hop off the bus. "There aren't any flowers."

Ryujin sticks her tongue out at her. "You'll see."

She pulls Chaeryeong past , scraggly trees, past a sign that reads "Seoul Botanic Park", and into a vast building shaped curiously like a flattened dome. Chaeryeong blinks—it's almost as if they've walked into another world. 

Palm trees tower over them, flanking verdant shrubbery, casting long, rippling shadows onto the gurgling streams and waterfalls that wind around them. The air sticks to their skin, warm and humid. Chaeryeong sheds her coat, looking around her in wonder. 

“See?” Ryujin says, smug. “I told you to trust me.”

Chaeryeong gives her an absentminded shove. “Yeah, yeah.”

“This place just opened a few months ago,” Ryujin says. She starts wandering down one of the aisles, in between rows of spindly cacti. “I like to come here when I get stressed. It’s easy to lose yourself in here. To forget who you are.”

Chaeryeong understands what she means—their caps are pulled low over their eyes, masks shielding their faces, but they’re almost swallowed by the lush greenery and the bustling crowd around them anyway—no one is paying them any attention. She pulls her mask down and takes her cap off tentatively. Next to her, Ryujin does the same, grinning at her awestruck expression. 

“I’ll show you my favourite flower,” Ryujin tells her, her face brightening, and tugs her down another row of brightly-coloured succulents, past little plots of daffodils. “Look!”

They’re standing in front of a field of delicate flowers, each one a vibrant, startling blue. Chaeryeong squints at them, a petal. 

“They’re pretty. What are they?”

“Daisies,” Ryujin says happily. 

“I’ve never seen them this colour before.”

“Right? Isn’t it pretty? Daisies don't usually grow this time of year, and you can't find them growing naturally here, but they have all kinds of climates in this indoor park," Ryujin says. "What's your favourite flower? I bet we can find it here.”

Chaeryeong hasn't given it much thought. She doesn't know much about flowers, come to think of it—not as much as Ryujin does, anyway. "I think I like roses."

Ryujin makes a face at her. "Boring."

"They're pretty," Chaeryeong protests. "I like their name, too. It sounds prettier than daisies."

"Whatever." Ryujin sticks her tongue out at her childishly, then bends down next to one, cupping her cheeks in her hands. “Take my picture.”

“Did you bring me here to make me feel better or to make me take your pictures?” Chaeryeong rolls her eyes. 

“Yes.” Ryujin puffs out her cheeks, waiting. Her eyes shine mischievously.

“Ugh,” Chaeryeong pretends to grumble, but the corner of her lips twitch. She takes out her phone and clicks the shutter. “There.”

It's a cute picture. She'll never say it out loud, though.

She takes Ryujin’s chin into her hands and squishes her cheeks till she deflates, her eyebrows pushing together indignantly. 

“Hey—” Ryujin protests, her voice comically distorted. 

Chaeryeong snaps another picture. “Ah, you take such good photos.”

Ryujin shrieks, flailing in her grip, reaching for her phone. “Delete that!”

“Make me.” Chaeryeong sticks her arm in the air, high above their heads, out of Ryujin’s reach. She giggles under her breath as Ryujin cranes her neck, tiptoeing to reach her, her hands landing on Chaeryeong's shoulders in a fruitless attempt to boost herself up.

Chaeryeong lets her, partly because she knows that even with the extra help Ryujin won't be able to match her height, but mostly because Ryujin's hands on her shoulders does funny things to her heart. She stands stock-still, holding her breath, pulse quickening ever so slightly.

"You're mean," Ryujin complains, finally giving up and dropping back down onto the balls of her feet, scrunching up her nose at her.

Their eyes meet. They're so close their noses are nearly brushing.

"Um." Ryujin takes a step back. She rakes a hand through her hair. Chaeryeong ducks her head, letting her hair fall across her face like a curtain, hiding the blush warming her cheeks.

In her peripheral vision, she sees Ryujin tilt her head, peeking at her face. "Are you blushing? "

"Shut up and go take more pictures," Chaeryeong mutters, shoving her in the general direction of the daisies, still hiding her face.

"The daisies are over there." Ryujin lets out an insufferable cackle, stepping closer. "I didn't know I had such an impact on you, Chaer—"

Chaeryeong slaps her hand over , cheeks now fully crimson. "I said shut up!"

 

---

 

They debut on the twelfth of February. 

Chaeryeong is running low on sleep, having spent much of the night before staring up at the ceiling, her stomach a jittery bundle of nerves, but her apprehension doesn’t let it register. She’s been training for this moment for five years, wanting it for even longer, and she’ll be damned if their debut stage is anything less than perfect. 

Their rehearsal is a dizzying blur of pounding bass and garish strobe lights. Chaeryeong has to squint more than a few times, momentarily blinded, but finds a little comfort in the knowledge that she knows the routine like the back of her hand and could do it with her eyes closed. 

Later, when they’re backstage again, trying their best to stand still as the makeup artists fuss over them with their brushes and palettes, Chaeryeong feels a light touch at her elbow. 

She turns. It’s Ryujin.

“Dance with me,” the smaller girl whispers. 

Chaeryeong’s mind blanks. “Huh?” she whispers back. She can just barely make out Ryujin’s features in the dark.

“Please? We did fine during the rehearsal, but I just want to go over it again.”

“Oh.” Chaeryeong realises Ryujin is asking her to dance their choreography with her, not—her cheeks warm in embarrassment, and she’s glad for the darkness. “I thought you meant…never mind.”

Ryujin nods distractedly, already moving into her starting position. Her fingers slip from Chaeryeong’s elbow, their imprint tingling faintly on her skin. “I just want our stage to be perfect, later.”

“Me too.” Chaeryeong understands completely; nothing terrifies her more than performing unprepared, and if she has to obsessively practice over and over to avoid that, then that's exactly what she'll do.

"Thanks, Chaer." Ryujin smiles crookedly at her. Here amidst the dim lighting backstage, her features faintly illuminated by the distant glow of the spotlights, lashes brushed through with mascara and red painting her lips, Ryujin looks nothing short of ethereal. Chaeryeong tries to swallow past the uncomfortable lump in , her chest tightening with an emotion she can't name.

"Of course," she whispers back.

 

---

 

They go through the motions of the choreography together. There's no music, but Chaeryeong doesn't need it; Dalla Dalla is practically tattooed into her brain by now, and Ryujin dancing by her side is a good enough benchmark to guide her in terms of spacing and timing. Halfway through, Jisu joins them as well, and the three of them practice together silently, until they're interrupted by a staff member beckoning Chaeryeong over.

"An interview for ITZY? ITZY!," she explains in response to Chaeryeong's quizzical look. "Say something about how you're feeling right now."

She gestures to the camera in front of them, the lens a bottomless void, a little too close for comfort. Chaeryeong takes a step back, blinking at it, trying to find the words.

"Um," she starts, looking helplessly at the staff member, who just nods encouragingly at her and mouths, how are you feeling?

It's a good question, one that Chaeryeong doesn't necessarily have an answer to. She's been repeatedly going over the choreography in her head, fretting over what seems to be a massive sea of reporters awaiting them in the audience, while simultaneously trying to grapple with pre-performance jitters. There isn't much room in her head for anything else; she doesn't have the mental capacity to be self-introspective right now.

"I'm suddenly nervous," she admits quietly. It feels like an underwhelming thing to say, but there's no way she can pack five years of hope, dedication, and frustration into one ITZY? ITZY! interview, so she settles for the word nervous and hopes whoever's watching will understand.

The staff member gives her another encouraging nod, and Chaeryeong realises she's waiting for her to continue. She shakes herself. Concentrate. "Um, this is a practice showcase," she tries again, but it's hard to speak now past the knot of anxiety that's started to take root in .

"This is a practice showcase," she repeats. The staff member her head at her. Chaeryeong fumbles for the right words to say, her lips forming around words that won't come to her.

A small hand slips into hers.

Despite the camera, Chaeryeong turns instinctively. Ryujin is smiling at her, softly, reassuringly. The hand in hers squeezes a little. "It's okay," Ryujin whispers, "you're doing great."

Chaeryeong remembers the camera and turns back to it in alarm, an apology on the tip of her tongue, but the staff member is already walking away, moving onto Yuna. She sighs.

The hand in hers squeezes again. "Why the long face? This is what we've been waiting for our whole lives."

"You're not helping," she mumbles. 

A draft of cool air snakes its way backstage, and Ryujin shivers reflexively, inching a little closer to her like she's seeking warmth.

"We still have some time before we have to get onstage," Chaeryeong tells her. "Go get a jacket or a blanket or something."

Ryujin shrugs. "I'm fine."

Chaeryeong rolls her eyes, letting her palm meet Ryujin's arm with a solid smack that stings her skin and makes Ryujin wince exaggeratedly. "Go get one."

"Ow," Ryujin whines, clutching her arm. Chaeryeong rolls her eyes again. "We're going onstage soon. I don't want to."

"Then suffer," Chaeryeong says bluntly.

Ryujin sulks, even as she inches closer to her again, ever so slightly. "You're mean."

Chaeryeong eyes her. "And you're an idiot."

Ryujin shivers lightly again, and Chaeryeong sighs, reaching for her. The smaller girl flinches reflexively, as if expecting to get hit again, but Chaeryeong just rubs at her arms, trying to create some warmth. Ryujin lets out a soft, pleased hum, and her chin drops lightly onto Chaeryeong's shoulder.

"Better?"

Ryujin hums again. "Yeah." She pauses. "And you?"

"Yeah," Chaeryeong admits. Falling into their familiar rhythm of back-and-forth banter comes as naturally as breathing to her; somehow, Ryujin's managed to take her mind off her pre-performance jitters. "Thank you," she says quietly.

Through the thin fabric of her stage outfit, she feels Ryujin smile into her shoulder.

Past the cloud of hairspray and perfume, Chaeryeong can ever so faintly smell Ryujin's shampoo, the citrusy one she's used ever since Chaeryeong has known her. It's comforting. Chaeryeong leans a little closer into her, her hand stilling on Ryujin's arm as she breathes in the familiar scent, selfishly lingering in her friend's embrace for longer than she know she should.

If Ryujin notices, she doesn't say anything. The knot of anxiety in her chest unravels slowly, unfettered warmth curling in its stead.

"Do you think they'll like us?" she says after a while, quiet and unsure.

"I know they will," Ryujin says firmly.

 

---

 

Their debut showcase is a roaring success.

Chaeryeong makes her way backstage amidst the pounding music, fatigued, the day's adrenaline seeping from her body as her sleep deprivation kicks in. She stumbles right into Yuna, who crashes into Jisu, who just laughs and throws an arm around Yeji, drawing them into the messiest group hug Chaeryeong's ever been in.

A familiar laugh sounds in her ear, bright and exhilarated, and then Ryujin's pressing up against her side, grinning widely, twin dimples creasing her flushed cheeks. Chaeryeong nearly forgets how to breathe.

"We did it," Yeji says breathlessly, and they dissolve into half-relieved, half-incredulous laughter, Yuna grabbing excitedly at their hands, Jisu's arm still dangling carelessly off Yeji's shoulders.

"We did," Ryujin echoes, then murmurs just loud enough for Chaeryeong to hear, "We did it. I told you they'd like us."

Chaeryeong gives her arm a light shove. Ryujin pretends to stumble, but her blinding grin doesn't leave her face. "You were nervous too."

"I was," Ryujin agrees.

They fall silent for a brief moment. A dozen different things are on the tip of Chaeryeong's tongue, none of which she is sure is acceptable for a friend to say.

In the end, she settles for a vague, inadequate-sounding, "You looked really good out there."

"I did? Thanks," Ryujin answers, but she sounds distracted.

Her eyes have darted to Chaeryeong's left, her smile growing softer, and Chaeryeong follows her gaze over to where Yeji and Jisu are laughing about something or other. Jisu throws her head back and laughs, her eyes curving in one of her signature smiles, bright and lovely, and Chaeryeong sees Ryujin's eyes lingering, the corners of her lips tugging upward.

It suddenly feels very hard to breathe. The little pit in her chest swells into a leaden weight that clamps painfully around her heart, big as a rock and twice as uncomfortable.

She takes a confused step back, out of their little chaotic bubble, a hand pressed to her chest, trying to quell the ache. Beside her, Ryujin stops smiling, turning to look at her, her brows furrowed in confusion. "What's wrong?"

"I need some air," she mumbles.

 

---

 

The bathroom door swings shut behind her, and Chaeryeong leans heavily against it, winded. Her chest aches like she's spent twenty consecutive hours in the practice room, like it used to after Sixteen when she'd dance herself to the brink of collapsing. She takes in deep, shuddering breaths, the heel of her hand rubbing fruitlessly against her chest.

It takes a few minutes, but eventually the pain stops, and Chaeryeong slumps against the bathroom door tiredly. The worried faces of her members flash in her mind, and she fumbles for the doorknob. She does feel bad about running off abruptly without so much as an explanation, especially when she recalls the concern in Ryujin's eyes—

Her chest constricts again, painfully.

Instinctively, Chaeryeong hunches over the sink and coughs once, twice, past the feeling of something clawing its way past .

A single petal, blue and slender, flutters from her lips and lands on the sink, garishly bright against the white porcelain.

 

---

 

Hanahaki disease.

Chaeryeong's heard stories of it happening to other people, but she'd always thought that was all it would be: something that just happened to other people and not her. She bites her lip, tucking her legs underneath her, squinting against the harsh glow of her phone screen in the dark.

There's nothing there on the page that she doesn't already know from the stories she's heard: it's likely to occur in people whose feelings are unrequited; it's a disease where flowers take root in your lungs and eventually take over your entire respiratory system; it can cause shortness of breath, nausea, dizziness, or in the worst case—death.

She swipes down the screen numbly. There are, apparently, only three possible options for someone suffering from Hanahaki disease. (Four, if you count dying.)

The first and most obvious option would be for her to get over whatever it is she's feeling for Ryujin. Chaeryeong smiles, a little ruefully, continuing to scroll.

The second option, one that's a little more controversial, is surgery to remove the plant that's taken root in her lungs. Chaeryeong's heard of people who have willingly done this. It's a quick and easy way out, if a little expensive, with a catch: you'd lose your capacity to love forever.

Eager as she is to find a solution, Chaeryeong doesn't know how much she likes the sound of that. She scrolls down a little more. The last possible option would be for the object of her affections to return her feelings, thereby curing the disease.

Chaeryeong thinks of the adoring way Ryujin was looking at Jisu when they were backstage the other day, the way her whole face lit up with her smile. She thinks of how Ryujin was looking at Jisu the same way Chaeryeong always looked at Ryujin when she wasn't paying any attention, the same way Chaeryeong had always secretly hoped Ryujin would look at her.

The scratchy feeling in the back of worsens, and Chaeryeong grabs at with both hands as if she can physically hold the petals down and keep the disease at bay. It doesn't work; her body shudders with the exertion of trying to suppress the plant, before her lips part unwillingly and another petal flutters down onto her bedsheet.

Chaeryeong turns it over in her hands, wryly. Another slender blue petal.

Blue daisies.

She tosses it into the bin viciously.

This has been her dream her whole life, one that she's worked tirelessly to fulfil, one that she's shed tears over and sacrificed everything for. If she doesn't do something, this disease will slowly destroy her body from the inside out, and she needs her body to be able to sing and dance.

This has been her dream her whole life, and she can't afford to jeopardize it over a crush.

She scrolls back to the first option, mulling it over. Compared to the other two, this one sounds like a piece of cake. Get over her stupid feelings for Ryujin. Easy.

 

---

 

Chaeryeong spends the next few weeks or so putting carefully measured distance between her and Ryujin. She dawdles behind or picks up her pace whenever they're walking together as a group, stops dragging Ryujin out for coffee breaks and late night dance practices, makes sure to seat herself as far as possible from Ryujin during mealtimes.

Situations like these make her unspeakably grateful she has a room to herself; it makes being alone easy, and it's convenient enough to fib about wanting to go to bed early when Ryujin joins them on the couch to join them in whatever they're watching.

Every now and then, her resolve falters, especially when Ryujin asks if she wants to hang out or dance together and she says no, it's okay, making up some excuse or other, and Ryujin blinks, her voice trailing off, an uncharacteristically uncertain look on her face. Chaeryeong's never turned down an invitation from Ryujin to hang out before; most times it's either yes or I can't make it, but can we do tomorrow?

But then she remembers the blue petals that fell from her lips; the ache in her chest and the scratchy feeling clawing at whenever Ryujin gets too close or Chaeryeong's eyes linger for just a second too long.

She wonders if she's being obvious—sometimes she sees Yeji looking between them, as if she's trying to puzzle them out, or she'll catch a glimpse of Yuna's shrewd look as she turns back to her to avoid further conversation with Ryujin.

"Did you guys fight, or something?" Yuna asks out of the blue, one day.

"Huh?" Chaeryeong flounders, playing dumb. "Who?"

Yuna gives her a look. "Come on. You and Ryujin, it's obvious. Jisu unnie and I were talking about it last night."

"Nothing's happening," Chaeryeong says. Yuna prods her.

"You guys were so close," she says. "Now it's like you don't know her at all."

"Nothing's happening," Chaeryeong says again. "Friends go through weird patches all the time."

"Ah!" Yuna points a finger at her. "So there is something going on."

"Yuna..." Chaeryeong heaves a sigh, mumbling, "I don't want to talk about it."

Yuna looks at her for a while, intently, before her gaze softens. "That's okay, unnie," she says finally. "But if you do, you know you can always come find me, right?"

"I know." Chaeryeong manages a half-smile, patting her head. "Thanks."

 

---

 

The pains in her chest are less frequent now, blue daisies no longer falling from her lips. Whenever she's near Ryujin, it still hurts—especially when Ryujin smiles—but it's lessened to a dull twinge that she can ignore if she tries hard enough.

Though Chaeryeong does wonder how long she has before Ryujin's had enough of it. Eventually, she doesn't have to keep guessing.

"Chaer." Ryujin stands in front of her, fiddling with her fingers. She swallows.

Chaeryeong inches a few steps backward, her back pressing against the cool glass mirrors of the practice room. Ryujin had found her dancing aimlessly to old routines in one of the practice rooms. God knows how. Someone might've let her whereabouts slip; she knows it was Yuna.

"Are you...okay?"

Chaeryeong looks at her strangely. "Am I okay?"

She hadn't expected those to be the first words out of Ryujin's mouth. Maybe are we okay? or even why the hell are you avoiding me? Whatever it was she was expecting, it certainly wasn't concern for her wellbeing. Chaeryeong lets her head thud dully against the mirrors, cursing Ryujin and her stupid thoughtfulness.

"Well, I just thought..." Ryujin's shoulders shrug up and down jerkily. Chaeryeong notices then that she looks a little paler than usual, dark circles ringing her eyes. "You seem different these days."

"I do?" Chaeryeong prays she'd leave her alone, so she can go back to trying to get over her in peace.

"Well...yeah." Ryujin looks at her tentatively. "Are you stressed? Over dancing, or something? Do you want to go somewhere? Or—I have bungeoppang in my bag." Her gaze becomes hopeful. "Someone once told me all you need is a fresh start."

"I—" Chaeryeong tries to take another step back, to put some distance between them, but her back is pressed firmly against the mirrors. "No, I'm not...stressed. It's okay."

Ryujin's face falls, just a fraction. It's subtle enough that it could've gone unnoticed, but Chaeryeong knows her too well, has known her for too long. "Are you sure?"

Chaeryeong nods mutely.

"Oh...okay." Ryujin rakes a hand through her hair. Her voice grows small. "Was it something I did?"

Chaeryeong's head jerks up in alarm. "No! What?"

"I don't know." Ryujin shrugs, staring at her feet. "You've just been off these days, especially, well..." She trails off, clearing . "I thought maybe something happened."

"No," Chaeryeong says vehemently. At Ryujin's hesitant look, her voice softens, and she says, truthfully, "You didn't do anything wrong."

"Oh. Okay. Good." The tension bleeds from Ryujin's shoulders, a look of relief making its way onto her face. Chaeryeong wrestles with the guilt building in her gut, twisting her stomach into uneasy knots. "Um...mind if I join you, then?"

She stares. "Huh?"

"There's a new song we need to learn, right?" Ryujin worries the hem of her hoodie between her fingers. "Have you learnt it yet?"

Chaeryeong nods mutely. The corner of Ryujin's mouth tugs upwards.

"'Course you have. There's this one part I can't seem to get."

"I actually have somewhere I need to be—" Chaeryeong stammers, then stops as Ryujin blinks at her, confused disappointment flickering in her eyes. "—I mean, I can stay and help you. For a while."

She watches as Ryujin's face brightens immediately, and berates herself for being weak. "What are you having trouble with?" she mumbles.

The sooner she helps Ryujin, the sooner she can get the hell out of here.

"It's this—" Ryujin winds her hands around each other, her feet moving in a complicated pattern. Chaeryeong recognises it as one of the moves that opens the song's dance break.

It's strange; the beat is fast-paced and the move is rather complex, but Ryujin should have been able to pull this move off with ease. In fact, she could've sworn she saw Ryujin doing it perfectly fine just two days before during practice—though her movements do admittedly look oddly stilted, now that Chaeryeong's studying her closely.

She sighs. Her fingers hover awkwardly by Ryujin's arms, then her shoulders, then her waist, like she isn't sure where exactly to hold her. "Loosen up. Relax your shoulders. Move them like this while you move your hands, and then follow up with your hips—"

"Um," Ryujin says. "How?"

Chaeryeong swallows. Her fingertips flutter lightly onto Ryujin's hips, gently directing them to the beat. "Get it?"

"I think so." Ryujin slides her foot back, following the choreography, and her back presses flush against Chaeryeong, head tucked neatly under her chin, strands of her hair tickling her skin. Her citrusy shampoo is all Chaeryeong can smell.

Chaeryeong freezes, her hands going rigid on Ryujin's waist. She tries not to think about how perfectly the smaller girl fits in her arms.

Ryujin doesn't seem to notice, frowning critically at the mirror. "So then I move like this, right?"

"Yeah. You got it." Chaeryeong drops her hands from Ryujin's waist like she's been burned. Her chest constricts with something painful and familiar.

"You're not even looking," Ryujin grumbles.

The pain claws its way out of her chest, burning through , scratching at the edge of her tongue. "I have to go," Chaeryeong chokes out.

"What? Wh—" Ryujin starts to say, alarmed, but Chaeryeong is already stumbling out of the dance practice room and into the nearest bathroom, hand pressed desperately to .

She locks the door behind her and bends over the toilet, retching as quietly as she can as she clutches her chest, slender blue petals falling mockingly from her lips.

 

---

 

Chaeryeong redoubles her efforts to avoid Ryujin, after that. When Ryujin tries to make plans with her, she no longer bothers with empty excuses; she mumbles some variation of I'm busy or I'm tired and turns back to talk to Yuna, effectively ending the conversation. It's difficult to ignore both the disapproving frown Yuna gives her and the hurt look that flashes across Ryujin's face, but the ache in her chest does sting a little less the less time she spends around Ryujin.

Five years of buried one-sided feelings are hard to get rid of, but Chaeryeong is resolute. If she lets the disease take hold of her, it'll destroy her energy, her health, her singing, worst of all—her dancing. And, by association, ITZY. Her life, her entire world. The group that Ryujin also happens to be in. She refuses to allow it to happen.

It takes some time, but Ryujin stops asking. Eventually, she stops talking to Chaeryeong altogether.

Chaeryeong convinces herself that it's for the best.

 

---

 

Chaeryeong drags her feet back to the dorm wearily after yet another late night practice. Gruelling night practices are tougher to endure alone, made worse by the glaring absence of cheeky grins and whisker dimples and shared bungeoppang, but they aren't unbearable.

She'll manage.

She opens the door to laughter sounding distantly from the kitchen, accompanied by the sound of utensils clinking together and something sizzling in the pan. Chaeryeong knows it's not Ryujin from the voices, so she slips off her shoes and pads to the kitchen curiously, only to stop dead in her tracks.

Yeji and Jisu are kissing.

One of Jisu's hands is fisted in Yeji's loose T-shirt as she pulls Yeji closer, her other arm sliding around the small of Yeji's back to hold her. Yeji's free hand cups Jisu's jaw, then moves to her hair tenderly.

Chaeryeong doesn't know what kind of noise she makes, but both Yeji and Jisu jump apart to look at her, startled.

"Chaeryeong! You're back." Yeji looks very sheepish.

"When..." Chaeryeong gestures between them helplessly. "What..."

It's Jisu's turn to look sheepish. "It's...been a while."

Chaeryeong's mouth moves soundlessly. She isn't sure what exactly to say. "...Congrats?"

Jisu crosses the space between them to give her a playful little push. "If you think it's gross, you can just say so, you know."

"It's gross," Chaeryeong says, deadpan. Jisu pushes her again, both she and Yeji laughing. Chaeryeong finds herself smiling as well.

"I mean it," she says sincerely. "I'm happy for you two."

"Thanks, Chaer." Yeji smiles at her. Jisu turns to her, affectionately patting the top of her head, laughing at Chaeryeong's wrinkled nose.

Now that she thinks about it, it does make sense—Yeji and Jisu have, over the years, more or less always gravitated towards each other. Chaeryeong would've noticed something was up sooner, if she weren't so fixated on Ryujin and her admiration for her Jisu unnie. Speaking of which—

"Does Ryujin know?" she asks softly.

Yeji and Jisu exchange glances.

"She was really nice about it," Jisu says. "I think it's been long enough since she found out. She seems fine."

Dull panic starts to churn in Chaeryeong's gut. "When did she find out?"

Yeji gives her a long, searching look. For one brief, terrifying moment, Chaeryeong thinks she's going to ask about what's going on between her and Ryujin—as their leader, nothing gets past her easily. And Ryujin is her roommate, after all.

"I think you should ask her yourself," Yeji says finally.

It's kinder than Chaeryeong deserves, after avoiding Ryujin like a coward and essentially ruining their friendship.

"Okay. I will."

Jisu gives her a shrewd look. "Hmm."

Chaeryeong doesn't like the look on her face. She backs away slowly, out of the kitchen. Jisu follows her. 

"Where are you going?" Jisu asks, too casually.

"Back to my room," Chaeryeong says nervously. "To sleep. I'm tired. Practice was hard."

"Okay," Jisu says simply.

Chaeryeong gives her one last suspicious look, then retreats back to the safety of her room. Jisu smiles at her innocently, then heads back into the kitchen.

On her way back, she pauses by Ryujin and Yeji's bedroom door, raises her fist, and delivers three sharp raps.

"What," Ryujin's voice says, muffled by the door.

"Open up," Jisu sings, one hand clamping down firmly on Chaeryeong's shoulder as she tries to flee.

"I'm kinda tired today, unnie," comes Ryujin's voice. "I might just head to bed."

Say something, Jisu mouths, motioning wildly to the closed door.

No, Chaeryeong mouths back.

Jisu pokes her in the ribs, hard.

"Ow!" Chaeryeong lets out a squeak of surprise, shying away from her. "That tickles!"

The door opens. Ryujin looks between them.

"Ryujinie," Jisu says sweetly, an arm slung carelessly around Chaeryeong's shoulders. Chaeryeong is frozen, rooted to the spot as Ryujin's eyes flick to her, gaze unreadable.

Jisu gives her shoulder a meaningful squeeze. Chaeryeong her lips nervously.

"I'm heading to bed," Ryujin repeats, when Chaeryeong doesn't say anything. She turns her face away from them, but Chaeryeong doesn't miss the look of disappointment that flashes across her face. She opens again, then closes it helplessly, fumbling with her words.

"For god's sake." Jisu sighs. Chaeryeong feels the hand on her shoulder drop to her back, and suddenly she's being pushed forward forcefully, stumbling unsteadily through the doorway.

"Hey! "

She crashes ungracefully into Ryujin, whose hands automatically land on her waist to steady her. The door swings shut behind them.

"Love, I know there's a key to lock this door somewhere, do you know where it is..." comes Jisu's voice from the other side. Chaeryeong wants to die.

Her eyes meet Ryujin's for a brief, awkward second. Ryujin's hands drop from her waist, just as Chaeryeong takes an automatic step back, then another, her back hitting the door awkwardly as she runs out of space. Ryujin's eyes follow the motion, then flick back up to look at her, gaze unreadable again.

A thick, painful silence engulfs them.

Chaeryeong's face prickles with heat and discomfort. Mercifully, she manages to remember what Jisu pushed her in here for.

"Are you okay?" she says awkwardly.

Ryujin looks at her like she doesn't understand.

"I mean," Chaeryeong hastens to add, almost tripping over her words in her attempt to get them out, "I found out about Yeji unnie and Jisu unnie and—I just wanted to check if you were okay, you know, because—I mean, we never talked about it, but it was kind of obvious that you liked Jisu unnie, and..." She trails off, realising she's babbling, and clamps shut.

Ryujin is quiet for a while. Then she works her jaw, letting out a little quiet, disbelieving laugh. "You haven't said more than two words to me for the past few weeks and you're asking me how I feel about two of our members dating?"

Chaeryeong swallows dryly. "I'm sorry," she whispers.

Ryujin crosses her arms and stares up at the ceiling, blinking hard. Chaeryeong notices too late the telltale glint of tears in her eyes; she reaches out, anxious and contrite, but then Ryujin meets her gaze again, eyes hard, and Chaeryeong's hand drops limply to her side.

She isn't even sure she has the right any more.

"Are you going to tell me why?" Ryujin says. She doesn't sound angry or accusatory like she did earlier, just—hurt. Chaeryeong winces.

"I—I can't," she mumbles. "I'm sorry. It—wasn't your fault."

"Sure it wasn't my fault. That's why you got along fine with everyone else but me." Ryujin looks at her, as if daring her to say otherwise.

Chaeryeong opens to protest, but nothing comes out. She racks her brain for some plausible excuse, anything— but nothing comes to mind.

"Yeah. That's what I thought," Ryujin says bitterly.

She starts to say something else, but she's interrupted mid-sentence by a cough. Then another, and another. Ryujin doubles over, wheezing, light blue petals falling from her lips.

Chaeryeong freezes, panicking, before she comes to her senses and crouches down next to Ryujin, tucking her hair out of the way as she gulps lungfuls of air.

"Ryujin," she says softly, horrified. The blue petals on the floor are stained crimson. "How long has this been going on?"

"A while," Ryujin says, in between laboured breathing. Her voice turns sour. "Not that you would know."

Chaeryeong fingers the edge of one. Sky blue. Jisu's favourite colour. Something snakes its way around her heart and squeezes painfully, but she ignores it.

"Ryujin, this is bad," she says, voice trembling. She remembers when Ryujin cornered her in the practice room all those weeks ago, looking pale and haggard—had Ryujin been suffering from the disease then, as well?

"You don't say," Ryujin scoffs. She coughs into her hand one last time. It drops to her side, but not before Chaeryeong sees that it's riddled with flecks of her blood. Her hand flies to .

She grabs a few tissues and takes Ryujin's hand, gently dabbing at the bloodstains. Ryujin snatches her hand away. "Don't."

"At least let me clean you up," she pleads.

"You don't get to ignore me for weeks and then just waltz back into my life without telling me why."

"Please," Chaeryeong whispers. "Let me try to be a good friend to you. I haven't been the best fr—I've been the worst friend to you lately."

"And you still won't tell me why."

"I can't," Chaeryeong says weakly. "But I can—I'll try my best to make it up to you."

Ryujin falls silent, but she lets Chaeryeong pick up her hand again, wiping off the specks of blood. Slowly, gently, Chaeryeong cleans her hand, then picks the petals off the floor. "I'm going to flush these down the toilet so Yeji doesn't see them when she comes back in."

"That's what I've been doing," Ryujin says gruffly. Then, so quietly and reluctantly Chaeryeong almost misses it, she says, "Thanks."

Chaeryeong doesn't think she deserves Ryujin thanking her in the slightest, so she chooses not to respond to that. She stands, walks to the bathroom, dumps the petals into the toilet bowl and flushes. They spiral down to the bottom of the bowl merrily, a dizzying whirl of sky blue. Chaeryeong stares at them. They've only confirmed what she already knows, but still...

Something scratches at , her chest constricting with a familiar tightness she hasn't felt in a while. Chaeryeong almost laughs. All the work she'd put into distancing herself from Ryujin, only for it to be undone in a single night. She has nothing to show for her efforts now except for a ruined friendship.

She returns to the bedroom to see Ryujin sitting on her bed, playing with her fingers, looking morose. Chaeryeong sits beside her.

"I'm sorry," she says after a while. "For being unfair to you. I'm sorry that you have to go through this. Over Jisu unnie."

"Not your fault," Ryujin mutters. "The second one."

"I'm sorry for the first one."

"Mm."

Chaeryeong hesitates, then tentatively slips her arms around Ryujin. Ryujin stiffens, but lets her. "I'm sorry. You don't deserve anything that's happening to you."

"That's a bit rude," Ryujin says. "I thought I kind of deserved to debut after all those years of hard work, but if that's what you think."

An incredulous laugh bubbles out of Chaeryeong. We're going to be okay, she thinks, relief washing over her, and her arms tighten around Ryujin.

"You're crushing the ribcage of someone with a respiratory disease," Ryujin tells her. Chaeryeong just hugs her tighter.

"I missed you so much," she whispers into Ryujin's shoulder, quietly, so she doesn't hear. "I'm sorry."

"You have some nerve hugging me right now."

"I know," Chaeryeong says. The sleeve of Ryujin's shirt feels damp where she's pressed her face to it. "I know. I'm sorry."

"Stop saying sorry, it's getting annoying," Ryujin complains, but she finally hugs Chaeryeong back. Her face nestles into the crook of Chaeryeong's neck, nose digging into her skin, and Chaeryeong melts. The vice-like grip on her heart claws at her, demanding her attention, but Chaeryeong ignores it again.

Just as she's about to let go, certain she's well past the limit of what's considered acceptably platonic, Ryujin whispers, right next to her ear, "I missed you too. Idiot."

 

---

 

Safe within the confines of her own room, Chaeryeong coughs up daisy petal after daisy petal, crouched by the toilet, her hands white-knuckled on the rim of the bowl.

It's fine, it's fine, it's fine, she repeats in her head like a mantra. Now that she knows for sure that Ryujin only has feelings for Jisu, it'll be easier to get over her, no matter how much time they spend together.

She looks down. The petals clutter the water messily. Right at the edge of the floating mass, where the last petal lies, is a single drop of blood.

 

---

 

"Alright, let's take five." Yeji claps her hands. "Good job, everyone."

"Ten," Yuna whines. "Pleeeease..."

Yeji pokes her nose affectionately. "No."

"Let's do ten, love." Jisu tugs at her sleeve, pointing to where Ryujin and Chaeryeong have collapsed on the floor. "The kids are tired."

"We're only one year younger than you, you know." Ryujin rolls her eyes. Chaeryeong stays quiet, eyes flicking between her and Jisu.

Yeji considers them for a moment. "Okay. Fifteen minutes."

"Our leader is the best," Yuna sings, hanging onto Yeji's arm, while Jisu laughs and presses a brief kiss to Yeji's cheek.

"Hey," Chaeryeong murmurs, when she notices Ryujin's eyes lingering. itches a little; she clears it, coughing a little into her hand.

"Hmm?" Ryujin tears her eyes away to look at her. Behind her, Chaeryeong sees Jisu lean contentedly into Yeji, whispering into her ear.

"Coffee break," she decides firmly.

Ryujin looks confused. "We just went an hour ago and you said you were trying to cut down on your caffeine intake—"

"Let's go." Chaeryeong slips her hand in hers and pulls her to her feet, practically marching her out, while Yeji yells after them, remember, fifteen minutes!

As Chaeryeong yanks open the door, the icy November air rushes in, engulfing them. Someone had left a window open. The tickle in worsens, crawling under her skin, clogging her windpipe. One rasping cough stutters out of her, then another. Chaeryeong clutches the doorframe, trembling with the effort to even her breathing, to keep the flowers at bay.

"...Chaer?" Ryujin is saying. Her voice sounds like it's coming from very far away. "You catch the bubonic plague, or something?"

Chaeryeong heaves a deep, steadying breath, focusing on the warmth of Ryujin's hand in hers. Like a lifeline, it grounds her, even as itches and her vision swims a little. "I'm fine. Coming down with something, I guess."

Ryujin eyes her, brows pushing together. "Maybe we shouldn't go out."

Distantly, Chaeryeong hears the sound of Jisu's voice and Yeji's laughter. "No, we're going."

"But we just got coffee an hour ago."

"Ice cream, then," Chaeryeong says. "I want ice cream."

"Oh, okay." Ryujin brightens, and lets herself be pulled along.

 

---

 

This continues in the same fashion for the next few weeks or so. Whenever Yeji and Jisu get too nauseating, or whenever Chaeryeong catches Ryujin surreptitiously sneaking peeks at Jisu for just a little too long, she whisks Ryujin away, out to one of their favourite cafés or bakeries, or out to the indoor botanic park Ryujin had brought her to just before their debut. Or just simply out for a walk. Anywhere that gets Ryujin away from the source of the flowers in her lungs.

"Don't think I don't know what you're doing," Ryujin tells her one day as they're in line for croissants.

"I have no idea what you're talking about," Chaeryeong says.

Ryujin grins a little. Her head falls lightly against Chaeryeong's shoulder, and her voice is quietly grateful when she next speaks. "I haven't coughed out anything in ages. Thank you, Chaer."

Chaeryeong stays perfectly still, praying Ryujin doesn't hear her pulse thundering in her veins.

"You never did grow up to be taller than me," she says lightly, trying to change the subject.

"You ruined the moment we were having," Ryujin complains. Chaeryeong just puts her hand on Ryujin's head condescendingly.

"You're just the right height to lean on my shoulder." She pats her head. "At least you made it there."

Ryujin just pushes her, grumbling. "I can still grow."

"No, you can't."

"Just you wait. I will."

"Sure," she says dryly.

They fall silent for a while, watching the bakers load fresh loaves into the oven. Ryujin is still leaning against Chaeryeong's shoulder. Absentmindedly, Chaeryeong picks up her hand, playing with her fingers.

"You must've missed doing this," Ryujin says. Her tone is playful, but Chaeryeong picks up the unspoken meaning behind her words.

"I hope I'm at least making up a little for how I treated you," she murmurs.

Ryujin doesn't answer immediately. They haven't talked about the elephant in the room since then; why Chaeryeong went out of her way to avoid Ryujin, why Chaeryeong wasn't able to tell her the reason even though they've always told each other everything.

"Maybe," Ryujin says. She pauses. "Someday, will you tell me why?"

Chaeryeong worries her lip between her teeth. "I will. Someday."

A small voice in the back of her head wonders how much time she has.

 

---

 

Ironically, as she helps Ryujin get better, she herself gets worse.

It gets harder to sing and dance while her chest aches and flowers tickle the back of her lungs, demanding to be expelled. It's only a matter of time, really, before she gets found out.

Yuna walks in on her one day bent over, retching blue daisies into the kitchen sink (she hadn't even managed to make it to her room), and rushes to her with a cry of alarm, slipping her arms around Chaeryeong's shoulders. "Oh my god," she whispers, horrified. "Unnie..."

"I thought you'd gone out with everyone else," Chaeryeong says hoarsely.

"I came back early to take a nap," Yuna says. Her voice is a pitch higher than usual, anxious and fearful. "Who is it?"

Chaeryeong doesn't say anything.

Yuna rubs her back in slow circles. "It's Ryujin, isn't it?"

Chaeryeong turns so fast to look at her that her neck cracks. "How—?"

Yuna gives her a look.

"Don't say anything," Chaeryeong begs.

"I won't," Yuna promises. "But you should, unnie. Tell her."

Chaeryeong's chest clenches painfully at the thought. "I can't."

"Or what?" Yuna demands. "You keep going like this until it kills you?"

Chaeryeong flinches. Yuna looks apologetic.

"Sorry," she says more quietly. "I didn't mean to phrase it like that."

"I'll handle it," Chaeryeong says, though she really doesn't know how she can. "It'll be fine."

Yuna looks like she's bursting with a million different questions and arguments, but Chaeryeong's body chooses that moment to shudder with a raspy cough, and Yuna's eyes soften. She pulls Chaeryeong into her arms again.

"Okay," she says shakily. "Please try, unnie."

"Don't worry." Chaeryeong pats the top of her head consolingly. "I can still sing and dance just fine."

"I don't care about any of that," Yuna says vehemently. "I just want you to be okay again. You've been getting thinner and thinner, unnie—but I didn't know this was the reason why."

"I'll try," Chaeryeong whispers. She leans onto Yuna's shoulder, and feels the taller girl her hair in a protective, soothing gesture. "I promise I will."

 

---

 

Eventually, she has to start turning down Ryujin's invitations to late night dance practices again, because of the toll it takes on her weakened body.

"Or we could go to that late night dessert place we saw the other day," Ryujin tries instead. "You look like you could use a pick-me-up."

"That does sound nice..." Chaeryeong hedges.

"Well, come on, then." Ryujin holds her hand out. Chaeryeong wants nothing more than to take it, to lace her fingers with Ryujin's, to feel the soft skin of her palm against her own. But her eyelids are heavy with exhaustion and her body is fatigued from all the dancing they did today.

"Maybe unnie should just rest," Yuna pipes up worriedly from the couch. "She looks tired."

Ryujin looks at her. "What do you want to do?" Her voice is softer now, concerned. "It's up to you, Chaer."

She should rest. She is tired. But she also finds it very difficult to say no to Ryujin, regardless of the circumstances.

Chaeryeong slips her hand into Ryujin's, wilfully ignoring Yuna's squint of disapproval. Ryujin's eyes light up as she interlaces their fingers, smiling so wide her dimples show, and Chaeryeong's gaze lingers tenderly, even as scratches and her lungs protest. "Lead the way."

 

---

 

Chaeryeong doesn't know how it starts.

What she does know is this: Ryujin is explaining to her how Yeji somehow managed to lock herself in the bathroom again, her hands moving animatedly as she recounts how how Yeji sheepishly knocked on the bathroom door from the inside and asked Ryujin for help, a tiny dimple denting one cheek as she laughs freely, throwing her head back.

Chaeryeong stares unabashedly, simply too tired to restrain herself. Her cheeks are warm, her heart thundering in her chest. It feels like the tiled floor beneath her has given way and she's free-falling into a terrifying, unknown abyss, with nothing to catch her. She thinks she'd be fine with that if it means she gets to stay in this moment with Ryujin forever, here in their booth at this gritty diner, away from the roaring crowd and the blinding spotlights. Even if Ryujin will never return her feelings—even if the plant in her body slowly consumes her from the inside out.

She's in love with Ryujin. The realisation should terrify her, but Chaeryeong feels strangely calm. Deep down, she thinks she's known from the very first day Ryujin walked into the practice room with that cursed disarming smile of hers that this was doomed to happen eventually.

Ryujin grabs her hand across the table, dissolving into another bout of laughter again. Daisies crowd Chaeryeong's throat in protest. Chaeryeong chokes around her mouthful of cake, hastily plastering her napkin to .

It comes away stained crimson.

Daisies spill out onto her tongue, calling out to the girl sitting opposite her, demanding to be seen. Chaeryeong tears her hand away from Ryujin, flees to the bathroom, and doesn't look back.

 

---

 

She's coughing up whole daisies now.

They tumble ungracefully from and into the toilet of the single-stall bathroom she's in. She's grateful for the privacy.

From her extensive searching on the web, Chaeryeong knows that coughing up entire flowers means she doesn't have very much time left. It also means surgery is no longer an option; trying to remove the plant from her lungs at such a late stage of the disease would be fatal. She laughs bitterly, bloody petals fluttering from her lips at the motion.

"Are you okay, I heard—" The door swings open. Chaeryeong freezes.

In her haste, she'd forgotten to lock the bathroom door.

"Ryujin," she croaks, standing and wiping the back of with her hand. She tries to block Ryujin's view of the toilet, reaching behind her and flushing, but she's not fast enough.

"Chaer..." Ryujin breathes. She looks stunned. "You...how long?"

"Not that long," she says quickly.

"Don't lie to me." Ryujin steps closer to her. Chaeryeong instinctively takes a step back. Ryujin stops, a flicker of confusion in her eyes. "That—that looked bad, Chaer."

"It's really not. I'll get over it. You did it, remember?" Chaeryeong attempts a smile. "I'll be fine."

A pregnant silence hangs between them.

"Who is it?" Ryujin whispers.

Chaeryeong considers lying. Saying Yeji, Jisu, or Yuna, and getting away with a sympathetic look and Ryujin helping her get over a non-existent crush like she helped Ryujin get over Jisu. But lying tends to get messy when you're all living together in the same cramped apartment. And she doesn't like the idea of lying to Ryujin.

"I can't tell you," she says. "I'm sorry."

Ryujin looks a little taken aback. "You...can't?"

"I can't," Chaeryeong repeats. "Sorry."

Ryujin's mouth opens and closes. "Did...do any of the other girls know? Yuna? Does she know?"

She can't lie to Ryujin. She stares at the grimy bathroom floor. "She knows."

"But we tell each other everything," Ryujin says. She sounds hurt, confused.

"Obviously not everything," Chaeryeong says, "or I would've told you the reason I stayed away from you for months."

It comes out harsher than she intends, and she winces. It's hard speaking past the stubborn lump in , forming words with her scratchy voice.

Ryujin stares at her. There's a hard glint in her eye, the kind she always gets when she's close to tears. She sets her jaw, turns on her heel, and leaves the bathroom, the door swinging shut behind her.

Chaeryeong sinks down onto the floor of the bathroom, coughing violently, cradling blood-soaked daisies in her hands as the plant clogs , bitter and accusatory, as if blaming her for yet another time she's hurt Ryujin.

 

---

 

They both avoid each other after that. Ryujin does the bare minimum in front of cameras, interacting with Chaeryeong only when necessary, then going back to avoiding her like she has the bubonic plague. As Ryujin would put it.

Chaeryeong is absolutely miserable. At such a late stage of the disease, the distance doesn't do anything to help her condition—in fact, she's almost certain it makes it worse. Before, she'd had to choose between having Ryujin by her side versus having a healthy, functioning body. She'd chosen her health, then she'd given in and chosen Ryujin. Now she doesn't have either.

The glittery top she's supposed to wear for their stage later hangs on her thin frame. Their stylist tuts, giving her a once-over.

"They're too strict with your diets," she says, disapproving. "You're all just kids. "

Chaeryeong shoots her a wan smile.

"Ryujin, too," the stylist says. "You two take care of yourselves, okay? Take care of each other."

Chaeryeong's eyes flick over to where Ryujin is getting her hair and makeup done, and their eyes meet. She sees her own exhaustion and fatigue mirrored in Ryujin's eyes, in the dark shadows that line them.

Ryujin is the first to look away.

Chaeryeong tries to smile. "We will, unnie."

 

---

 

"Does anyone know where Ryujin is?" Yuna asks. "She said she was going to get coffee, but it's been a while and she hasn't come back."

Three pairs of eyes stare blankly back at her.

"Text her," Jisu suggests.

"She left her phone here," Yuna says, holding it up.

Yeji nudges Chaeryeong. "Go look for her. There's one part of the choreography I need to go over with her."

"Me?" Chaeryeong squeaks.

Yeji nods. There's a knowing look in her eye. Chaeryeong is sure the yawning chasm that's formed between her and Ryujin these past few weeks hasn't gone unnoticed.

Yuna looks between them cautiously. "I can go look for her instead, unnie—"

"No, it's okay," Chaeryeong interrupts. "I'll go."

 

---

 

Chaeryeong traces Ryujin's steps back to the vending machine at the end of the hallway, her heartbeat drumming an anxious rhythm into her ribcage with every step. She's starting to regret having agreed to this, but she didn't want to be the cause of the disappointed look on Yeji's face that appears whenever any of them do something she doesn't approve of. She knows what Yeji's trying to do, and she understands—the fraying relationship between her and Ryujin isn't healthy for the group in the slightest.

She doesn't really think it matters, anyway, not with how little time she has left. But Yeji doesn't know that, and the least she can offer the leader that works tirelessly to shoulder all their burdens is some peace of mind.

Ryujin is nowhere to be found in the vicinity. She's probably in the waiting room of one of the other groups that are promoting alongside them. Chaeryeong starts heading back down the hallway, listening intently, trying to catch Ryujin's low voice from behind one of the doors.

As she passes the bathrooms, she hears the distinct sound of a cough. Then another, and another. Chaeryeong stops in her tracks, straining her ears. Someone clears their throat. Was it her imagination, or did that sound awfully like—

She pushes open the door, eyes wide with trepidation. "Ryujin? Is that you?"

"No," a voice says sullenly.

Chaeryeong's heart sinks. She presses her palm against the door of the stall Ryujin is in. "Please open the door," she whispers.

The door swings open abruptly, and Chaeryeong stumbles forward, nearly falling flat on her face. Ryujin catches her, hands warm on her waist for the briefest of seconds, but she lets go in the same instant. "Why are you here."

Chaeryeong doesn't answer, staring past Ryujin instead. It's worse, so much worse than the handful of blood-stained sky blue petals she'd comforted Ryujin over all those weeks ago. The petals are larger, now, jagged around the edges—and there's red everywhere.

"I thought you got better," she says, voice trembling. "Ryujin, there's so much blood."

Ryujin ignores her, reaching behind her and flushing, and Chaeryeong watches as the crimson contents of the bowl are down, disappearing from sight. She pushes past Chaeryeong, going to the sink to wash her hands and rinse .

Chaeryeong follows her, worry clouding her senses, even as her chest tightens with an all-too familiar ache. "I thought you were over her," she says faintly. "Why—why didn't you tell me, I could've helped you..."

Ryujin continues to wash her hands.

"Ryujin," Chaeryeong presses.

Ryujin laughs humourlessly. "You really don't know anything about flowers, do you?"

"I—what?"

Ryujin rounds on her. "It wasn't blood. Those were roses, Chaer."

She's trembling. Chaeryeong's mouth falls open. "Roses...?"

"It's your favourite flower, isn't it?" Ryujin bites back a laugh.

"What?" Chaeryeong whispers. Her heart pounds in her chest, deafening in the silence that surrounds them. "My favourite?"

Ryujin looks away. "Forget it," she says acidly. "You're busy puking up your guts over someone I don't even know the name of."

She brushes by her, heading for the door, but Chaeryeong grabs her arm, stopping her in her tracks. "Me? You like me?" Her voice is soft, tentative.

Ryujin glares at her, anger in her narrowed eyes and the pinch between her brows, thinly veiling the hurt underneath. "Don't make me say it again," she warns, even though she hadn't said it the first time.

Chaeryeong lets out a breathless, incredulous laugh. She lets her head dip forward, her forehead dropping to rest on Ryujin's shoulder. "Say it again."

" off."

"We're stupid," Chaeryeong mumbles into her shoulder. "We're so, so stupid. I thought you were supposed to know flowers."

"I do."

Chaeryeong exhales another shaky laugh, taking Ryujin's hand in between her own to play with her fingers. "Then why didn't you notice I was coughing up blue daisies?"

Ryujin's hand stiffens in hers. "What?"

Chaeryeong smiles into her shoulder. Hesitantly, she slips her fingers in between Ryujin's, slowly interlacing them, and raises her head from Ryujin's shoulder to look her in the eye. Ryujin's eyes are wide, her lips parted, cheeks dusted with pink.

"You're lying to me," she whispers.

Slowly, Chaeryeong leans forward. Their foreheads touch, ever so slightly. Her chest feels lighter than it's been in ages. "I'm not."

"You're—you're lying," Ryujin murmurs, but she doesn't pull back.

"I'm not," Chaeryeong repeats softly. "Why do you think I tried to avoid you? And couldn't tell you the reason why? And why I couldn't tell you who I was—" she pauses "—puking up my guts over?"

Ryujin shoves her shoulder with free hand, though her other hand remains intertwined with Chaeryeong's. Her eyes are wide. "Idiot!"

"Sorry," Chaeryeong breathes. She lets her thumb brush Ryujin's hand in a tentative caress. Slowly, deliberately, she leans forward a little more, letting their noses touch. Ryujin lets her. Her breath puffs against Chaeryeong's lips, gentle and warm. A shiver runs down Chaeryeong's spine.

This is what she's longed for with every fibre of her being, ever since the day Ryujin and her disarming smile walked into that practice room, a seed of a stupid crush that blossomed into something wondrous and tender; she's too afraid to say or do anything, lest she break whatever spell they're under and Ryujin slips through her fingers like sand. Chaeryeong swallows, tongue darting out to wet her lips nervously. Ryujin's eyes flick down, following the motion.

Then she's pressing closer, soft lips moving against Chaeryeong's as she slips her other hand around her waist to bring her closer. Chaeryeong's breath hitches in , other hand reaching up to cup Ryujin's jaw as she deepens the kiss, and Ryujin makes a soft, needy sound against her lips, her arm around her waist tightening.

Ryujin pulls back abruptly to look her in the eyes, slightly out of breath, her cheeks adorably flushed. "You really like me back?" she whispers in wonder.

Chaeryeong feels her eyes soften immeasurably, warmth blooming in her chest. "Stupid," she says gently. She kisses Ryujin's forehead, then her nose, then hesitates, before pressing a tender kiss to her lips. "Yes, I do."

She draws back from the kiss. Ryujin's eyes are still closed, even as a smile creeps onto her face. A little dimple creases her cheek, and Chaeryeong kisses it repeatedly until Ryujin laughs and squirms in her arms.

"I had hoped our first kiss would be somewhere other than a music show bathroom," Chaeryeong says dryly, once they've settled down, Ryujin's head tucked into the crook of her neck, her hand trailing up and down Chaeryeong's arm reverently.

"Well," Ryujin says, looking up. Her gaze turns cheeky. "We'll just have to make up for it."

 

---

 

"Oh my god," Chaeryeong says. "What did you do to it?"

"Nothing!" Ryujin insists.

"It's squished."

They're perched on a grassy, secluded hill overlooking the city, a picnic blanket under them; one of the rare moments they get free time to themselves. Chaeryeong likes Ryujin like this the most; loose, casual clothing, faded pink hair tousled by the wind, golden skin kissed by the sun, dimples denting her cheeks as she grins at Chaeryeong over mouthfuls of food.

Ryujin waves the piece of bungeoppang in the air, rousing her from her reverie. Chaeryeong blinks, her eyes darting away like she hadn't been staring at her the entire time, just so Ryujin won't obnoxiously about it. "But you'll still eat it, right?" She wiggles her eyebrows, taking a sizeable bite. Chaeryeong rolls her eyes. "For the pre-debut nostalgia?"

"Yeah, it's really taking me back," Chaeryeong deadpans. "It's squished like it was at the bottom of your bag. Just like old times."

Ryujin screws up her face in an exaggerated frown, and Chaeryeong realises that's probably exactly where it's been.

"Ugh." She beckons with one hand. "Pass it here."

"No." Ryujin crosses her arms. "You insulted it."

"What are you, five?"

Ryujin keeps her arms crossed, one hand gripping the bungeoppang resolutely. Chaeryeong lunges for it, and Ryujin jerks it away, laughing. Chaeryeong tumbles onto her, knocking her flat on her back, arms flailing as she shrieks, but Ryujin manages to hold it just out of her reach.

Eventually she gives up, head dropping to rest on Ryujin's collarbone as the smaller girl shakes with laughter. She feels an arm slip tenderly around her waist.

"Here."

Chaeryeong raises her head petulantly. Smiling, Ryujin breaks off a piece of bungeoppang and feeds it to her. "Happy?"

"It tastes gross," she complains, but lets Ryujin feed her another piece anyway.

"Wait, look," Chaeryeong says suddenly, rolling off her. Somewhere during their little tussle, they've managed to roll off the picnic blanket entirely. Delicate little flowers litter the grass around them, their slender petals prettily framing Ryujin's pink hair. "Your favourite flowers—they're in season."

Ryujin props herself up on her elbows. She isn't smiling. "I don't like them any more."

"What?" Chaeryeong turns to her. "Why?"

Ryujin isn't looking at her. Chaeryeong puts a finger on her chin, tipping her face towards her. "Tell me."

"Because of what they were doing to you," Ryujin mumbles. "They only remind me of bad things, now."

Chaeryeong's gaze softens. "Silly. They weren't doing anything to me. If anything..." she plucks a daisy, turning it this way and that, letting it catch the sunlight. Then she tucks it into Ryujin's hair. Haloed by the warm sunset glow, a delicate flower woven into her hair, Ryujin looks impossibly ethereal. Chaeryeong nearly forgets how to breathe, her train of thought unravelling hopelessly, but Ryujin is looking at her, something raw and vulnerable in her gaze, and so she pulls herself together. "To me, they're a reminder of how I fell for you. How we stayed by each other's side through it all. Even when faced with pretty unnies with eye-smiles and gorgeous voices."

Ryujin snorts out a laugh at that, pushing her playfully. Chaeryeong pushes her back, smiling. Her hand finds its way to Ryujin's, taking it between her own and toying idly with her fingers.

"And eventually," she says softly, "how you fell for me right back."

Ryujin's cheeks are pink. She stares down at the picnic mat, her lips tugging up into a smile. "Okay, fine."

"Hmm?" Chaeryeong intertwines their fingers, bringing it to her lips and pressing a brief kiss to the back of Ryujin's hand.

"Maybe they're my favourite flower again." Ryujin picks a few of them, smoothing out the petals and stems.

"They're mine too, now," Chaeryeong tells her. She tilts her head, letting Ryujin carefully braid daisies into her hair.

Ryujin sticks out her tongue. "I said it first."

"Ugh." Chaeryeong rolls her eyes, shoving her and ignoring her exaggerated whine as her hair unravels and daisies scatter everywhere. "You're lucky I like you."

 

---

 

endnotes

• i took many liberties with itzy's predebut lore...........specifically ryuryeong saying they weren't that close predebut because they didn't have many opportunities to talk but i made it so they were.........because i can
• yuna's constant predebut tardiness + calling her dad to check if he ordered pizza is from yuchae's 2tzy she is a gem and i couldn't not include it
• events backstage during their debut showcase taken from this itzy? itzy! ep
• i chose blue daisies because it's ryujin's fav flower + chaeryeong has daisy-patterned things too
• some of this fic was inspired by this award-winning ryuryeong thread esp. chaeryeong playing with ryujin's fingers / hands
• sorry for the bibliography in the endnotes but if i write a canon-compliant fic i am going to cite my sources
• i was going to write them chilling in a field with daisies before debut but then i realised i couldn't BECAUSE THEY DEBUTED IN FEBRUARY (WINTER)......anyway thank you to seoul botanic park for opening a few months before itzy debuted so it could conveniently be written in.... :^)