Notes: [1] Hoorah for my first ever entry to the Twice fandom as I try (and fail) to get over SNSD!! :DDD but ofc i just HAD TO ship 2yeon even though they keep sinking a meter deep into the cold water of the pacific ocean day by day
[2] This is part weird comedy, part weepy emo thing. And it’s also multi-chaptered and I have soooo many plans on how to their relationship up so hopefully you’ll stick around ;DD
[3] I won’t be using Korean honorifics if you don’t mind because it doesn’t fit into my writing (you’ll understand as you read on…)… if you’re bothered with it, just tell me! I’ll try to use ‘em.
[4] Enjoy! 8D
 

Nayeon isn't sure how it starts, from a simple, friendly, platonic fondness into the worryingly unhealthy over-dependency it is now.

Not that she coined the status herself. Jihyo did. She fears the truth, and hearing it from another person makes it easier to deny it. She watches Jihyo leaving her alone in the four-person room they share, mumbling a "toilet", which is the fluffier version of "I'm leaving you to your own devices so you can contemplate life and iron out your third-world problems yourself". There's a reason why she isn't named the leader even though she's the oldest of the pack - her life is a mess and she has no idea how to rearrange the jumbled mess that she even sought Jihyo for help. And she's very sure now that Jihyo won't leave her alone until her problems go poof.

She rolls on her bed, not in the mood for anything even though their thin walls couldn't separate her from Chaeyoung and Dahyun's cat and mouse game of prank-and-smack-a-, even though she's supposed to go out to either join them or spank them depending on her mood. They have schedules later in the evening, but spending half the day weeping and being emo sounds oddly tempting. Until her phone lights up with a KakaoTalk message and her hand clicks open the message without looking at the name of the sender.

“get out and join me & momo in a feast of heated mart breakfastttt"

Before she could fire a sentence with an f-world slipped in somewhere at Jungyeon, the door opens as Jihyo steps in with a raised brow, probably questioning the "oh I'm so gutting this if I were born not scared of blood and gore" look she's sporting right now.

"I'm no psychic, but that must be Jungyeon?"

Nayeon only groans in response as she rolls over so Jihyo could sit beside her. She needs a waist to cling onto as her life falls apart into tiny dusts.

"You know... you can't really ignore her. You guys are, like, an item to the fans... so they might notice. I don't really want to filter through "did 2yeon stopped ing or" comments on our social media accounts."

"2yeon is an utter bull and you can just pass the task to Tzuyu."

Jihyo sweeps her hand along the mess of her hair, smoothing the knots. "Sorry. I shouldn't have said that."

"The comment thingie?"

"Not the comment thingie! The over-dependency thingie."

Nayeon, lying on her stomach, sinks further into the bed if it's even possible, sniffing out dried scent of the bedcover. "I can't live without her."

"Girl, you're just in that time of the month." She feels Jihyo patting her on the back, hears Jihyo shuffling even closer, enveloping the older girl into a hug. "You were pissy and y in certain days last month too. And the month before. And the months before that! Have I mentioned that you're always pissy when you're bleeding in your pants?"

Behind her curtaining eyelids, Nayeon rolls her eyes. "Point is, I'm not going to ignore her. I can't. Not Jungyeon."

"Okay, that's cool. I don't want anyone to ignore anybody."

"Yeah."

"So, uhh, you might want to type a reply or two to whoever lighting up your phone every two seconds is."

Right. Jungyeon. She makes a movement underneath Jihyo and the latter takes it as the cue to pull herself up and plops herself on her own bed. Nayeon turns around, lying on her back, and decides to put a stop to the incessant notifications that's ripping her phone apart.

"eyyy!! breakfst??"

"you read my messages u biotch"

"earth to nayeonnnnn"

"momo managed to burn up heatable meals like wtf the plastic container is a gooey liquid now and tzuyu went to the mart with sana so u might want to come n save me"

"FINE she will set me ablaze and youre going to regret it"

".........did i do sth wrong"

She frowns deeper and it feels weird, because Jungyeon being an idiot usually has her grinning like a . Without bothering to reply, she locks the screen and rolls over to the side where there's no Jihyo, so there is no one to witness her ugly weepy face.

Jihyo should be making a face by now. "You're coming with me outside whether you like it or not because I don't want to see anyone starving."

She flails her legs in a manner so childish she'll definitely regret it later when she's not-pissy enough.

"Throwing a tantrum. Cute." Jihyo sighs. "You know, you guys are taking the whole "girl crush" thing too literally."

Nayeon quickly whips her head up at the sudden change of topic. "What?"

"Weeeeell from what you've told me. If you're not crushing over Jungyeon, then what... else..."

Jihyo's voice trails off as she slowly zips shut. Nayeon is sure the combination of her baby-pandas-killing death glare and her fingers wrapped around the nightstand lamp is an effective weapon against running mouth.

There’s always this peculiar bond between her and Jungyeon, ever since Sixteen, ever since some years ago when they were just trainees struggling with identity crisis and acnes and holding a tune without cracking into voice likened to a duck in heat. It’s never been just her and Jungyeon, there’s Jihyo – but she doesn’t look at Jihyo the same way she looks at Jungyeon. And that’s not exactly a good thing.

Sometime ago, she imagined the world of showbiz and words “Im Nayeon – The Next IT Visual” typed in bigger font as a title to some article in some K-Pop news site. She imagined herself in the spotlight. She opened her eyes to shades of black, and pink, and the ceiling meters too low, and the room smelled stinky and disheartening, a reminder of how she botched up her performances badly. There was Jungyeon, clad in a shirt with the number “16” in obnoxious hot pink, towering over her as she stood by her side.

She feared the thought of being in the Minor group, but there was Jungyeon – and they stuck together in Sixteen like somehow that gorilla-faced CEO knew that Jungyeon is her oxygen, the thing running her bloodstream, the other half of her. (She was the only one sharing the sentiment.)

There was a time in the practice room – it was late and they were left alone together as the other fellow Minors-plus-Jihyo went to grab some snacks in the nearby convenience store. They were lying side to side, sprawled against the wooden floor, inhaling and exhaling in the same rhythm. She felt the closest to Jungyeon at the time. Jungyeon propped herself up slowly, habitually playing Nayeon’s mess of black locks with her fingers to annoy the older girl. (Nayeon didn't mind – she took delight in their au naturel skinship.)

“You have this face when you’re thinking hard.” Jungyeon said, voice a bit distant.

“Hmm?”

“Your eyes are all narrowed, your lips pursed, you look like you aged ten years just by thinking. You think that’s god trying to tell you to auction your brains for money so we can tip the staff to let ‘em debut us even though we screwed our perf tomorrow?”

Nayeon smacked her in the thigh, playfully, and rolled over. “’We’?” She wiggled her eyebrows, lips coiling a sly smirk.

Jungyeon still had her eyes on her hair. “We’ll make it. You, me, Jihyo.”

“If only all of us debut together… as Sixteen.”

She was answered with a crisp chuckle. “There’s no Sixteen. Only Twice. As much as I want the others to make it too…”

Nayeon understood, and left the implication hung in the air as they fell into a comfortable silence, facing each other, breaths in sync, their legs closing in, toes chasing one another. At some point, Nayeon nursed a melody of some ty romantic pop song that came up in her head and let Jungyeon pulled her closer, closer, closer, her face to the spot where Jungyeon’s heart resides, and she held the note as Jungyeon’s pulses laid itself as an accompanying instrumental.

This was the longest pause of Im Nayeon’s life so far. The L-word hung loosely on the edge of her tongue.

But at the same time, she felt that the L-word is too good to be true. She was sure it was something entirely different. Less butterfly-in-the-stomach inducing, more migraine-inducing.

They made it to Twice together anyway, but things were different because it was no longer a Nayeon and Jungyeon featuring Jihyo, because they have a team of nine now, because they’re Nayeon and Jungyeon and Momo and Sana and… and…

And it’s just not the same. And not all bonds survive through the years. Heck, it’s not even years since Sixteen.

There’s still the feeling of an invisible string between her neck and Jungyeon’s fingers, (even the metaphor itself is unhealthy!) and quality times with Jungyeon feel as fluid and effortless as it was months ago – years ago, even – but “Nayeon and Jungyeon” doesn’t carry the same togetherness vibe as it was months ago, years ago. The whole present-“Nayeon and Jungyeon” thing rearranged her outlook on their weird relationship. Like, they could be lovers, but it doesn’t work when it’s just her stealing glances at the taller girl as the latter gets to round two of “touchy-touchy” game with Momo.

“Jungyeon and Momo is like – our mom and dad.” Jihyo pointed out, milking comments on their V-App and giving birth to the ed out portmanteau ship name “JungMo”. The others cooed. She faked her cooing, but she missed the moment by some milliseconds.

As they rehashed a suspicious-sounding story of Jungyeon and Momo doing each other’s nails, Nayeon only wished for South Korea’s internet connection to suddenly go down or something. Alas, that didn’t happen.
 

There is only one word that could summarize what's happening outside the safe haven that is their room: Hell. 

Okay, three. Hell on Earth.

The kitchen is a mess, somehow there is fire out of the stove (they just fixed the thing days ago!) while Jungyeon is working out a fire extinguisher (with Mina's name scrawled on the glimmery red surface in black marker), Dahyun in the middle of explaining their predicament to their manager through the phone, Momo trudging from the toilet with a bucket of water, and Chaeyoung... where the hell is Chaeyoung?

"Umm, guys? Where's Chaeyoung?" Jihyo asks in a rather loud voice, face scrunched up into a mix of anger and confusion and disgust. The trio ignores her in full compassion.

The door to the "maknae line"'s room swings open with a bang as Chaeyoung kicks the offending object while her hands are full with her suitcase and duffelbag. "I value my life, so you might want to find another rapper! Time to skedaddle!"

Jihyo blocks the younger girl's way, standing tall in front of her. "Nah, we're a team of three against The Killer Cooks."

"Who ya calling Killer Cooks?!"

That must be Jungyeon. She sighs and steps into the circle of her, Jihyo, and a quivering Chaeyoung. "Listen," Jihyo starts, hellbent on salvaging their kitchen, “it’s do or die. Do not fear. Jungyeon might be holding a big fire extinguisher right now and you might get into her line of fire, but who cares. No one’s going to find out. This story will be archived under “Stories Not to Tell in V-App Broadcasts, Ever”, so.”

“I don’t want to die,” Chaeyoung replies in a tone reminiscent of a scared chipmunk with a tint of bass and puberty in her voice.

“It’s okay, we have our life insurances. Plus, we aren’t that famous enough to stay in the headlines and internet listicles of “Top 100 Stupid Deaths in 2015”.”

“Okay…”

Jihyo is such a leader.

“I’ll take down the fire. Chaengie, you snatch Dahyun away. Nayeon, you’re in charge of Jungyeon and Momo.”

“Wait, Jungyeon and Momo – “

As she turns her head to check on her two targets, sure enough, they’re in close proximity, Jungyeon shaking the fire extinguisher like she has no idea how to operate it, with Momo guiding her in a how-to… from the back! So they’re practically backhugging.

The stove is not the only thing on fire here.

Jihyo takes the hint, probably from the daggers she’s shooting with her eyes to the back of Jungyeon’s head. “Uhh, actually never mind. I’ll take care of the two – “

“Oh, no, no, there’s no need. Leave it to the oldest.”
 

The ride home from the radio station is quiet, mostly because everyone’s wiped out. She couldn’t bring herself to sleep somehow, even though every fiber of her being demands so. Sana pokes her in the shoulder, movement ever so slowly so she wouldn't have to startle-wake Mina, whose head is perched snugly on her shoulder.

“You might want to doze off, you look tired.”

Angelic, angelic Sana. She shuffles in her seat, feeling her flattening from the hours they spent sitting around. The traffic is jammed as hell and god is set out to make today the worst out of her days. “I wish I could.”

Sana hums, thoughtful. “You’ve been… oddly… I don’t know, in your head? These days. At least from what I’ve picked up…”

She brushes it off with an, “It’s just your imagination.” Sana is every bit right, though, and she thanks the girl silently for noticing without her spilling everything in her head to her (like what she did to Jihyo).

If only a certain would realize…
 

Even in the dorm, she’s awake with her head thinking anything and everything at once. After making sure everyone in her room is asleep, she tiptoes outside, setting out for the fridge and a glass of milk.

Someone is already in the kitchen, though, and it’s none other than Jungyeon.

Coincidental meeting like this and the consequent exchange of “Can’t sleep?” – what is this, a soapy K-Drama?

“Can’t sleep?” Jungyeon asks the obvious. Nayeon nurses a smile as a reply, too tired to form a proper sentence.

Jungyeon is being oddly understanding and leaves it at that as Nayeon quickly gets herself a glass of milk and drags her legs to the sofa in the living room, basking in the utter silence and loneliness. Ahh. The feeling of being lonely in a house of nine. Just perfect.

Scratch that about Jungyeon being oddly understanding – the taller girl has somehow teleported herself onto the sofa, too, as the surface dips in with Jungyeon’s added weight. They sit not that far, but not as close as they used to be, and the warmth shared in-between the space doesn’t comfort her at all. Everything feels different.

“You know,” Jungyeon starts, “it’s weird. We feel weird.”

Nayeon takes a swig first before croaking out a too-fast, “How so?”

“We… are close. Like, what, the fan named us the original pair, ya know. Since we’re inseparable since Sixteen.”

“Sixteen. We’re Twice now, Jungyeon. You said it yourself,” she’s surprised of how bitter she sounds, and lowers her voice to a nearly-whisper, “that there’s no Sixteen. There’s only Twice.”

But Jungyeon’s reply sounds definite, “But there’s still a you and me. Nayeon and Jungyeon. That’s how we roll.”

You have the others now. “Hmmm.”

“I don’t know what’s been troubling you, I… I feel like you’re so complicated, you know? Might as well hold a seminar on the art of smiling in less than a nanosecond – you’re so good at it. Smiling. Faking a smile.”

She listens to the way Jungyeon fumbles with her words, picks up the way Jungyeon exhales when she inhales. Their breaths aren’t in sync.

Jungyeon continues, “Sometimes I wonder, how many times I have been on the receiving end of… those? Your instant-smiles.”

Never. We were au naturel, we are au naturel. “Dare to make a guess?”

“Nah. I don’t wanna know the truth.”

Nayeon belts out a giggle as she puts away her half-emptied glass on the table.

“If… there’s something bugging you, you can… tell it to me, you know? I’ll gladly lend my ears, or even my fists, if what’s been bugging you have a physical form and – especially – if it has a .”

“So reliable, Jungyeon Hero.”

“I am.” She laughs, sounding a bit forced. “So you don’t have to bear it all alone…”

“Okay.”

“Good.”

A pause. Not too long, because Nayeon knows what she’s going to say.

“Jungyeonnie,”

“Yeah?”

“We’ll always be a “we”, right?”

“Of course.” Jungyeon inches closer and holds out a pinkie. Nayeon couldn’t help but face her and drowns into Jungyeon’s blinding grin even though the lights are off and her eyes are droopy and, hell, she could be hallucinating things and Jungyeon might even be a fabrication of her hazy mind, but. “Pinky promise to seal the deal.”

She hooks their finger together. “It’s a promise.”
 

Notes: [5] Upvotes and comments are greeeaaatly appreciated like it’s what fuels my writing – also constructive criticism, so please leave your thoughts in the comment below! :DD since I wrote this in like 2 hours I’m pretty sure I messed up horribly somewhere

[6] fixed some glaring errors in. after a re-reading, wow this was so badly written i will have to rewrite it at some point, but as of now im working on the 2nd chapter so.... :(