Tiffany isn’t an idiot, and she isn’t Taeyeon’s best friend for nothing. She saw the look on Taeyeon’s face, the way she clutched her phone like she was drowning and it was a lifeline. And then, after the number she dialed didn’t go through, she looked like the waves had swept her up and pulled her under.

There’s only one person who could have done that to her. Not a person who didn’t matter, like Taeyeon had claimed, but the person who mattered – who matters – the most. Even now, months after she left, the mere thought of her still pains Tiffany. It’s a clear, sharp pain, not picking at a scab but rather poking at an open wound. One that she doubts will ever heal completely. If it hurts her so much, she can’t imagine how much it must be hurting Taeyeon.

“Hey.” Nichkhun touches her shoulder. “You’ve looked down all day. What’s wrong?”

Tiffany looks at him, at the worry in his eyes, the tense set of his shoulders, and she feels a stab of guilt. They haven’t seen each other in weeks, and now that they’re finally together again, her body is present but her mind isn’t.

“I’ve missed you,” she mumbles, ducking her face against his shoulder.

“I’ve missed you too.” He puts an arm around her and pulls her closer to him. He smells like cold air and coffee, but underneath she can still detect the familiar scent of his cologne.

“Khun?”

“Hmm?”

“How did it feel when-when Jay left?”

She feels Nichkhun tense, the line of his body stiff and taut, before he relaxes. It’s been six years, but she understands that it still must be hard to talk about. It still must hurt. She wonders if his wound has healed yet.

“It felt like a part of myself was gone,” Nichkhun says bluntly. “Like they cut off one of my body parts.”

“Will it grow back?” Her voice comes out very small.

“Did you—” Now it’s his turn to hesitate. “Have you talked to Jessica lately?”

“I haven’t talked to her at all.” Tiffany can’t count the number of times she was a fingertip away from calling, texting, trying, but in the end she never did. And Jessica hasn’t reached out to her either. To any of them – except Taeyeon, that is. Taeyeon has always been an exception to Jessica. “I don’t even have her phone number. She changed it.”

“I’m sure you can find out,” Nichkhun says mildly. “I’ve never known you to back away from something you want.”

If it was another day, she would have teased, “Like you?”, but she doesn’t really feel up to jokes right now. She keeps remembering Taeyeon’s expression, her tone, the emptiness that filled both, that’s filled her lately.

Tiffany tries to imagine Nichkhun that far away from her – not just in physical distance, which is something she’s gotten used to, but in emotional – and has to repress a shiver. She doesn’t manage to fully hold it back, however. He notices and tugs her even closer, until they’re pressed flush against each other. It still doesn’t feel like close enough to her.

“Khun?” she asks again.

“Yeah?”

“Will it grow back? That part of you that feels cut away?”

He’s silent for a long moment. “I think it does,” he says slowly. “Piece by piece. It takes a lot of time, but it happens.”

“Like a scab forming.” She doesn’t entirely mean to say it out loud.

“Yeah,” Nichkhun says. He sounds sad. “Just like that.” His hand finds its way into hers, and she holds onto it tightly, like an anchor, a lifeline. “But even when the wound heals, it’ll always leave a scar.”

Tiffany doesn’t say anything to that. She doesn’t have anything to say. She closes her eyes and rests her head on his shoulder, and they stay like that, holding each other, breathing together, healing.

She doesn’t let herself think any longer about it. If she does, she’ll never go through with it. She remembers what her mom told her a long time ago: You can only regret what you never did, not what you did wrong.

She isn’t sure if doing this is right or wrong, but she has to try. Not just for Taeyeon, but for herself, for all of them. Taeyeon isn’t the only person who lost Jessica.

Tiffany steels herself, dials the number for the umpteenth time and presses call for the first time. She holds her breath and her phone right against her cheek.

The line rings and rings and rings. Her chest is starting to feel tight from how long she’s been holding her breath. She doesn’t know what she’ll do if it goes to voicemail. She isn’t prepared for that scenario. She isn’t prepared for this, in spite of how long she’s been preparing herself.

“Hawlo?” The greeting is half buried in a yawn, but the voice is unmistakeable.

Tiffany lets out the breath she’s been holding in one great rush of air. She means to say, “Hi,” or even “Surprise,” but what comes out is “Jessi?”

Jessica’s voice is thick with sleep. “Tiff?”

Her breath hitches. How long has it been since she’s heard that nickname? She knows the answer: since Jessica. “Hi,” she whispers.

“What are you—” Jessica yawns. “How did you get this number?” The sleepiness disappears from her voice, which is lower, careful, controlled. Tiffany’s heard her use this voice plenty of times, but almost never to her. It hurts that they’ve fallen to this.

“It doesn’t matter. I need to talk to you.”

“Didn’t S.M. warn against ‘any lines of contact’ between us?”

“Like I care what S.M. said,” Tiffany says, and Jessica makes a sound akin to a laugh. “Besides, you didn’t care either when you called Taeyeon.”

There’s a long stretch of silence over the line. “So, she told you, huh?” Jessica finally says. Tiffany doesn’t know what to make of her tone.

“No, she didn’t tell me. She didn’t need to. I saw her face after that call. Of course it was you. It had to be you.”

“I think you have the wrong idea about me and Taeyeon, Tiffany.” Jessica’s voice is past hollow; it’s lifeless.

“What?” Tiffany says sharply. “That you’re in love?”

There’s a sound like static over the phone. “Is this what you called me about?” Jessica asks. “To interrogate me about my private life? It’s none of your business who I lo—who I have or don’t have feelings for.”

Tiffany is too hurt to be angry. “How can you say that it’s not my business?” she whispers, even though she feels like shouting. “You’re my—” She stops short, unable to find a word that fits. Is ‘friend’ still applicable? ‘Colleague’ isn’t anymore, although it’s not a word she would have used anyway. That’s not nearly enough to describe what the nine of them were. Are.

“Your what?” Jessica asks quietly.

Tiffany wets her lips. “The nine of us will always be a family to me.”

“You mean eight.”

“No,” Tiffany says. “I mean nine.”

“Tiff.” Jessica makes a sound halfway between an inhale and an exhale. A stationary breath. “I know you’re—being Tiffany, trying to make everything right and everyone happy, but… Life isn’t a fairy tale, okay? We had plenty of once upon a time’s, but we’re not going to get a happily ever after.”

“Who are you talking about? The nine of us, or you and Taeyeon?”

“Is there a difference?” Jessica asks wearily.

Tiffany feels a wave of frustration flood over her. “Why do you sound like you’re giving up?”

“What is there to give up, Tiffany?” Jessica sounds so tired. Resigned, like all the fight has drained out of her. “What do I even have to give up?”

“You have Taeyeon.”

“No,” Jessica says quietly. “I can never have Taeyeon. That’s the point.”

“How is that—”

“Look, I don’t have time to talk about this, I have a meeting soon.” Jessica doesn’t sound like she’s lying, but then again, Tiffany probably wouldn’t be able to tell if she was. “Don’t give this number to Taeyeon.” It’s not a request, it’s a plea. “Please, Tiff. Promise me you won’t.”

“I—”

“Please.”

“I won’t.” Tiffany knows she’s going to regret this, but it’s been so long since she’s heard that raw desperation in Jessica’s voice. “I promise.”

“I trust you,” Jessica says, her voice soft and so, so young. Tiffany feels the wound throb, feels what little has formed of the scab peel away. “I have to go now. I’ll talk to you later, okay?”

Tiffany says, “Okay, bye,” and then the line is dead. She wonders if Jessica meant the ‘later.’ She wonders if the next time she calls this number, she’ll be getting the same message as Taeyeon. She wonders if the wound will ever heal.