interlude i: rinse & repeat
force of habitEdit: Don't panic! Just some minor adjustments.
Edit 2: So my tendency to splice and stick drafts together has ended up in a jumble of mistakes that have been cleared up now — thanks to my beta.
Long overdue…buuuut I made a playlist?
And before we proceed, a thank you to all you readers, commentors, subscribers, etc + fluffy and rocky for drowning me in wenseul 24/7. Also dear Sarah, who capslocked me constantly for writing angst.
So here.
One word: confusing.
Two words: Son Seungwan.
One question: what is even canon anymore…?
Seungwan knows this for a fact.
Her fellow vocalist and 94-liner had a dam's worth of tears inside her, and as such she's bound to leak the waterworks at some point or another. She's the kind of person who gets emotional with Disney films and clichéd dramas — someone who gets attached to stories too easily and hates sad endings with a passion.
(It's actually even more adorable than it sounds.)
In fact, the second time they met was because Seulgi was bawling her eyes out.
Seungwan's sessions at SM then had been entirely made up of meeting some of the trainees and instructors and getting into her schedule for each day to come. Vocal practice, break, dance practice, lunch, language classes here and there to brush up on her Korean, and free time to do it all over again by herself. There were even lessons on pop culture and etiquette and how to behave in interviews and shows. All of it was pretty straightforward.
Then she decided to turn up to dance class early and opened the door to find a lanky girl in an orange vest, curled up at the corner of the room in a sobbing ball of heartbreak, personified.
And Seungwan, being Seungwan, panicked.
She had instantly rattled off worried Korean at the crying figure in between frantic bits of English, dashing over to crouch beside the stranger and reaching for a pack of tissues that she always kept ready in her Jansport bag.
"Are you okay?" the newbie had asked, before immediately backtracking. "Actually no, you don't look okay, that was a dumb question. Sorry."
The girl in the tangerine top had looked up and laughed a little in return, her nose red and her face damp with tears that still continued to trickle from glittering cat-like eyes.
Pretty even while crying. Definitely unfair.
(But honestly, she looked like a mess. A cute, crying mess.)
The name 'Seulgi' had instantly sprung to mind with the sight of those monolid eyes peering up at her, and Seungwan had shot her a small smile as she immediately went to sit down beside the girl. One wad of tissues later the snivelling had died down and there was nothing left to wipe her cheeks with, and Seulgi took a deep breath.
"My brother's goldfish died,” were the first words she said, flushed pink with eyes swelling slightly beneath her curtain of hair.
Seungwan had let her jaw fall loose at the information, and a thousand thoughts immediately bubbled to mind — the most prominent being, I thought these kinds of people only existed in fiction — before she settled on: "That's terrible, I'm so sorry."
And it was terrible, because she’s lost her own goldfish to disease and the odd wandering cat and it’s not the nicest thing in the world, but still. It wasn't even her own goldfish that Seulgi was crying over. It was her brother's.
(She had reckoned then that, as far as trainees went, this one was probably the most memorable. Unless everyone else was as unique as this unusual person in her company.)
“They were so small and they always followed my hand and nibbled at my fingers and they were named after Gyeonu and Jingnyeo,” Seulgi had blubbered in one go, rubbing her thumb at the curve of her cheek as the last of her tears subsided.
Seungwan's hand had automatically reached up to pat her head and gently push away the hair stuck to her eyelashes, almost familiar in the motion. She had always been the go-to pillar of support for her friends back in Canada, after all.
“It’s okay, they’re in a better place now," was all she could offer in consolation though. A better place being…flushed down the toilet into the sewers. Or buried in a garden, probably. Then up to goldfish heaven?
Her sniffling acquaintance seemed to take comfort in her words anyway, wiping her eyes with the back of her arms in a fashion echoing that of a child's before looking up at her properly. "Thank you," she had said quietly, before pausing and regarding the petite trainee with a watery smile. "Sorry, I didn't mean to bother you with all this crying."
Seungwan returned her own in kind. "You're not bothering me," she responded brightly.
"Still," Seulgi had mumbled, rubbing away the last of her tears furiously until the other girl took her hands in a gentle but firm grip.
"Hey, hey, you'll damage your eyes like that!" she scolded her lightly, and the taller one offered a sheepish smile and a whispered "Sorry," in return. Seungwan just shook her head, feeling almost as if she were addressing an old friend. It felt weird, to say the least, but she never thought to dwell on it back then.
"There's no need to apologise, but your eyes will get red,” she chided, and Seulgi had chuckled, shrugging.
"Oh, I can just put ice on them or something. I'm actually more worried about the state of my voice, with all this crying…"
"Warm water helps a bunch," Seungwan immediately advised, watching her rub at the base of her neck while grimacing; probably at its soreness. "Achy throats are the worst, huh?"
A woeful nod.
"Tell me about it. Especially when you're singing and it feels like you're swallowing a load of fur or something."
"You'd probably be able to hide it well, though,” she said reassuringly. "I've heard you. You're a good singer."
"Well I'm not as good as you,” Seulgi giggled. “You sing like Beyoncé."
"Beyoncé?" The comparison was about as startling as it was flattering, and the Canadian could only continue to smile at the full-blown grin that began to light up the other girl’s face.
"Absolutely!" Seulgi practically gushed, dead pet goldfish seemingly forgotten with the 180 degree turn of mood. "I heard you singing when you first came in, except I didn't get to listen for long because Joohyun dragged me off to get bubble tea, but —“ She had seemed to lose her words, waving an enthusiastic hand while inhaling a lungful of air. "I mean, you're so cool!"
"R-Really?” Seungwan had blinked, caught halfway between blushing at the praise and gaping like a fish — at which she saw the irony of all too well.
An impassioned nod answered her in tandem with a sparkling eyesmile. "Really! With talent like yours, you're bound to debut as a main vocalist."
"I, uh —" The heat that tinged at her neck had instantly reminded her not to let her guard down, especially around girls like this one. Keeping herself in check was of the utmost importance, what with her personal preferences being accepted a lot differently in the Western world compared to its Eastern counterpart. Hence, naturally, overly sweet females with heartwarming eyesmiles were instant alarm bells in her head.
(It never did stop her cheeks from flushing bright red at the compliment.)
"Th-Thank you…?"
They stared at one another then in contrasting silence; one of bashfulness, and the other of pure awe. That is, until the latter snapped out of her temporary daze and bowed her head hurriedly.
"Sorry, I talk a lot mindlessly sometimes,” she winced, biting her lip and scratching the back of her neck bashfully. "We barely know each other, too."
"It's alright, really." Seungwan couldn’t help but smile as she recalled having the girl approach her first; a stranger whom she offered her water to a few weeks before while at their profile shoot. She remembered introducing herself, and how she rolled the name around inside her head after the other replied back warmly.
Kang Seulgi. A girl with a dangerous smile and a penchant for crying over deceased pets that don’t belong to her.
Seungwan probably should have listened to those alarm bells at the time.
“Well,” she said instead, content to carry on talking to this quirky but endearing trainee while she could. "I guess we can get to know each other a lot better now."
It had definitely been what she was thinking but probably not what she should have been saying, and if it wasn't for Seulgi's responding grin Seungwan would have face-palmed herself at sounding so much like she was hitting on the girl.
"Oh, actually —” the taller girl began, shifting in her seat so that they were facing one another properly. Seungwan had almost angled herself off to the side more, just to avoid being focused on so fully like that. “I know everyone calls you Wendy, but what would you prefer me to call you?"
"Whichever works best for you," she shrugged, folding her legs and stretching them out and internally panicking over seeming flustered in her attempts not to seem flustered. "Son Wendy, Son Seungwan. It's all the same."
Seulgi had nodded, looking at her for a single, pensive moment as if she could tell how much she actually favoured the latter name. “Son Seungwan,” she repeated slowly, oblivious to the way the shorter girl paused and watched her carefully, fully prepared to wince at the inevitable, “Isn’t that a boy’s name?” that would always follow. Except it never came, and all that answered her then was a simple smile and an enthused, “Seungwan sounds good!"
SM's newest addition could only smile back at her helplessly, instilled with the boundless warmth that seemed to emit from the girl's every pore. "Fine by me," she grinned back, fighting to keep it from spreading too wide as she relaxed; the stage fright of being in this girl’s spotlight averted, for now.
Seulgi had laughed, nodding as the door opened and a couple of younger trainees' voices filtered in. “I hope we become good friends, Seungwan-sshi!"
The eighteen year old had beamed back at her, filled with a newfound confidence on her path to become a singer, and all that inevitably would come with it. They were going to be good friends. She could feel it.
And she proved herself right. They quickly bonded over their 'same month, same year' birthdays and similarly thoughtful approaches to life, along with frequent exchanges of music recommendations between them. By the end of a mere two weeks they became almost attached at the hip, overruled only by the fact that Seulgi and Joohyun were almost inseparable otherwise.
To tell the truth, the older girl had been difficult to befriend at first. Sometimes she would sit in on their guitar sessions, where Seungwan would teach Seulgi chords and the latter would complain about the pads of her fingers while strumming the strings with a joyous grin on her face. Other times it would be Seungwan on the sidelines, watching the two dancers practicing a couple routine involving chairs and high heels and the kind of synchronicity that could only be achieved from years of training with one another.
Never were they ever together without Seulgi acting as a bridge, because Joohyun clung to the girl like a koala most of the time and Seungwan was only really comfortable if her usual companion was around with her. That was what brought her growing hope staggering back along the line of things she had to leave behind in Canada. Seulgi was fast becoming her best friend; her only friend in a place more competitive and harsh than university could ever have been. But Joohyun was there beside Seulgi already — a constant figure, and an intimidating one, at that.
Of course, they had to form a link of some kind without the resident ace at some point or another, even if Seungwan had managed to avoid Joohyun's clutches most of the time. It just happened to be when she least expected it.
"Seungwan-sshi…?"
The sky had grown dark outside despite the early evening. The practice room was wintry and Seungwan was hungry and really not in the mood to see anyone but her bear-like friend. But Seulgi had eventually gone back to rest up at the Canadian's insistence (which she regretted five minutes after shooing her home), and the voice calling her name was soft, yet bold. Familiar, but not that much.
“Y-Yes?” She jumped to attention and hurried to turn off the music that she had been attempting to perfect the choreography for. It had been almost two hours and she still wasn't up to par, and now there was the epitome of human perfection walking in on her private dance session. Great. “Joohyun-sshi," she managed to say without seeming too startled, but the older girl was glancing at the stereo then back to her, pursing her lips and speaking again in that hushed tone of hers.
“Your footwork was off."
It had been blunt and out of the blue, and Seungwan couldn’t bring herself to even be hurt by the statement because of how simply it was put. Her footwork was definitely off, she knew. She just didn’t expect Bae Joohyun — or Irene, as she had started to become called more often then — to be the one to point it out. “Oh,” was all she could respond with. "Um."
Her senior stared for some seconds before she seemed to transform in a split second, her hardy gaze easing into one that would only really come out around the other, younger kids. “Sorry,” she said, serene as ever, and Seungwan could barely get out an “It’s alright,” before the older girl was looking at her earnestly. “Here, let me help you."
As unprecedented as it was the offer was there, and it felt like an olive branch worth taking. But it was mostly the shy hope in Joohyun’s stare — somehow hesitant and brave at the same time — that found Seungwan nodding so quickly. She was rewarded with a slight smile, an upturn of the eyes (not enough to form endearingly sweet crescents), and about an hour later she was moving in sync with the elder trainee, step for step and almost as smooth in her movements.
“That’s it,” Joohyun had smiled gently as they wiped the sweat from their faces afterwards, and any tiny doubts Seungwan had about the older girl's high school rumours were completely quashed then. With a smile like that, Bae Joohyun would most definitely have had guys and girls clamouring to see her during class.
Seungwan bowed deeply at the girl, feeling the adrenaline of accomplishment running through her veins as she grinned brightly and inwardly cooed at how shyly Joohyun smiled back. Cute. “Thank you, Joohyun-sshi."
“You can call me unnie, you know,” the other girl had returned, her eyes alight with that playful glint that Seungwan only ever saw when they were accompanied by Seulgi. But she wasn't here, and they were on their own, and maybe it counted as Joohyun becoming her friend. Because it did, after that. Though she previously thought it impossible, with her own awkwardness and Joohyun’s inwardness, she saw how Seulgi smiled even brighter as the oldest of them began clinging to Seungwan too; laughed louder at how Seungwan didn’t hesitate to join Joohyun in giggling at her own over-exaggerated expressions.
Joohyun made it easier to be around Seulgi, in a way. She drew the focus away a little; swayed Seungwan's feet before they could step onto sheets of thin ice with ‘best friend’ and ‘conservative society’ carved into the surface. Not that having Kang Seulgi as her friend was difficult to begin with.
(But God, it was; it still is.)
The only catch in the plan was that Seungwan fell for shy smiles and comforting hands too, and for a few months it was Joohyun who awed her with her flawless dance, gentle touches, and warm words. Her beauty and strength of character was something behold of course, though even while Seungwan found herself feeling affection for the petite young woman Seulgi was still there to smile her way to the top again; and so the budding singer almost found herself cursing her for it.
Who is even allowed to have that kind of power? Who gave her the right, when Seungwan had been chasing after this dream since her childhood?
And it hurt more simply because they were both running for the same goal. She never let herself forget that. Not when Seulgi would compliment her so readily, so genuinely; not when she would give small, more meaningful smiles behind the doors of practice rooms; and certainly not when she’d catch herself staring at the girl as they talked about the things they wanted to do most as singers.
It was a good thing that Seungwan had been into extracurricular activities since a young age. Golf class and Glee club and every other thing she did before South Korea carried over even past her high school days, because outside of her usual classes in SM she would teach herself more self-control and acting than her hired trainers ever could. And she’d be damned if she ever let herself slip up and doom herself — doom Seulgi, even — by slipping up and spilling her heart.
So she savoured her crush on Joohyun. She tried to grab a handle on how much she indulged herself in her habits, reigning herself in whenever she could to avoid leaning on Seulgi and sleeping next to her. She got sleeping pills, and when Seulgi foiled even that she decided to convince herself that it really was too cold in her own bed; that Seulgi was a good, equally warm alternative to suffocating layers of clothing. She even let herself stoop so low as to allow her bandmate to assume she had feelings for Joohyun, playing up her past crush on their leader as much as possible during their 'The Velvet’ promotions. All in hopes that it might come back and drown out the war in her head, and make things a little bit simpler for her to deal with. Just like back in her predebut days.
It never did.
Seungwan still wonders why. Joohyun was a great friend, and often times the perfect advisor and pillar of support that Seungwan found herself appreciating more and more as time went by. As odd as it was back then, she let herself fall as far as she could for the older girl. Joohyun was the perfect crush.
More importantly, Joohyun was not Seulgi. Seulgi was perilous in the gentlest of ways, tugging insistently at limbs and lungs and heart like the tide in an ocean too deep and too scary for Seungwan to venture into. But Joohyun was there, untouchable and beautiful and warm. She never burned Seungwan’s skin with a mere sweep of her gaze, only gave her sparks of energy in firm but careful hands when she needed it. Joohyun was unattainable. Joohyun was safe.
And Seulgi —
Seulgi was her best friend. No more, no less. She was the one who took care of her like Seungwan took care of others, guiding her in dance and accompanying her in song and doing her best to accommodate her casual skinship, even despite being so awkward about it with just about everyone else; Joohyun included. Seulgi was something she never wanted to change in her life, and the last thing she ever wanted to do was become the catalyst in making the girl leave her.
(Seungwan would have argued that those were the main reasons why she could never —
Not Seulgi.)
Thus, in typical Seungwan fashion, she kept her distance. She let her own affectionate nature lead her towards an equally-affectionate Joohyun, who was all too happy to reciprocate hand-holds and backhugs and casual touches that never failed to set off a fleeting flurry of butterflies in her stomach. She could only think of how much more tolerable it was, compared to the wildfire in her chest that would always spread when Seulgi would do any of those things. So she did well to keep a safe, calculated distance however she could.
Save for the one time; the only time she ever slipped up.
They had been celebrating their coming-of-age with fried chicken and alcohol, and Seulgi had already become the captain of skinship about five shots of soju before Seungwan had even reached her third mouthful.
“Y'know what I hate?" she slurred into the smaller one's shoulder, boxes of chicken left forgotten on the floor of her dorm room as they sat side by side on the bed. An empty bottle of alcohol lay between them, and it was probably the most rebellious thing Seungwan — and likely Seulgi — had ever done. Yet the risk of getting caught and punished didn’t feel as scary when they were just sitting alone together.
“Skinship?” the Canadian suggested after a moment, blinking down at the sinewy arm currently wrapped around her waist. “Is what I thought."
There was a faint smell of the perfume Sooyoung gifted them lingering in the air, mixing with the scent of freesias and geraniums that Joohyun insisted she bought for the meanings, and not the colours. Seungwan had found herself staring at them as Seulgi shifted towards her and sighed, the soft vibration shaking the nerves beneath the veins of the shorter girl's neck. “Not if it’s with you,” she murmured against her skin, fingers tapping phantom rhythms on the porcelain sliver of Seungwan's waist, where her shirt had ridden up to expose the flesh.
“What is it then?” the slightly younger one asked, a little more quiet and a lot more nervous. She inhaled then, and it didn't smell of purple flowers or perfume. Traces of vanilla and sweet citrus invaded her senses instead, and she had forgotten to exhale for fear of losing it.
(Would Seulgi have even remembered anything?)
“I get attached to things. Especially things that shouldn’t matter as much as they do." The hand on her waist continued on, and the paler brunette heaved a trembling breath against her embrace as her words grew weak. “My heart is clingier than I am."
The clock on the bedside table flashed one AM, and all Seungwan could do was watch the digital green colon wink each second away till the moment she knew she would have to let go. So instead of wondering if they would ever be able to be like this with each other again, she shut her eyes and let herself feel. “That’s not necessarily a bad thing,” she said after a lingering moment of silence, wondering to herself what kind of words would keep Seulgi close, and what would push her away.
She got her answer once Seulgi’s fingers stopped abruptly, stone still and hot on the edges of her ribs as she proceeded to turn and bury her face into Seungwan’s shirt. It was seconds after that she felt her fellow trainee's breathing run ragged and slow, and even then it was a while until she finally registered the fact that the material around her shoulder had become damp.
Seulgi was crying.
She was crying. So Seungwan didn’t do anything. She, of all people, knew that the best thing to do for someone crying in pain was to let them weep until they tired out. Then was the time to talk; to help.
“It is a bad thing,” came a small voice from her shoulder minutes later, scratchy and hoarse even with how silently she had been sobbing. “It is, when all your friends leave you. One way or another."
It struck a chord in her chest, and her rationale had instantly begun singing to the familiar tune of how to keep your best friend from leaving you.
Keep your distance. Focus your attention elsewhere. But make sure you’re there for her; as a friend.
True to her own weaknesses, Seungwan ignored the first step, and didn’t move a muscle.
“Joohyun stayed,” she had found herself stating quietly after a pause, if only to fill the subsequent silence where she could practically hear her own mind screaming at her.
“She did.” The slightest of smiles crept onto her lips; one that Seungwan could feel embedding itself into her skin. “I’m grateful to have you guys."
“Me too,” she exhaled, staring at the strands of sleek onyx in her hand before letting herself relax just this once. She allowed her fingers to fall to sharp shoulderblades, her head drooping to rest lightly against the crown of Seulgi’s head as she let the alcohol sway her decision making skills. So much for playing it safe, when she was pretty sure anyone would be able to hear the gallop of her heartbeat from miles away. Seulgi didn’t move an inch though, and it made her wonder if she was ignoring it, or just oblivious to it. And it only served to puzzle her further when the older brunette was the first to break their lapse in speech several minutes later, just after Seungwan had thought she had drifted off.
“Your nose is cold.”
She was startled at the time, but quick to lean her head back. “Oh. Sorry."
“Don’t apologise,” Seulgi mumbled, before shifting and lifting herself from her shoulder slowly. Seungwan only just stopped herself from asking her to stay by simply smiling at her when she flashed a guilty look at the damp spot on her shirt.
“I can wash it, it’s fine,” she cut in before Seulgi could say sorry, and after a beat of hesitation the svelte girl relented and relaxed; sitting back on her heels with a tilt of her head and a quirk of her lips.
“Y’know, I like that you’re cold,” she admitted softly out of the blue, innocent as always to the thunder her words had elicited in Seungwan's chest. "You can cool me down, and I can warm you up."
The smiling eyes twinkling at her seemed so suddenly out of place amidst the tears still staining her best friend's cheeks, and it was there that her self-sanctioned restrictions completely faltered. “Sounds perfect,” was all she could say, reaching up and wiping away trails of drying moisture on her friend's cheek until Seulgi caught her arm abruptly. Her fingers were gentle and her grip was light, but there was something in the way she held Seungwan that made her feel like she had just shared the weight of several tonnes on her wrist. It was strangely suffocating, but not at all surprising at that point.
Seulgi was good at making her feel as if she couldn’t breathe.
“Wan-ah,” said girl began after a delayed silence, and it was then that the silent fear and vulnerability in her eyes made themselves clear.
And more than anything, Seungwan wanted to make them go away.
“Y-Yes?” she replied tentatively, praying to every higher power that Seulgi couldn’t see whatever was in her eyes. She knew just how obvious she was being, even while tipsy.
“Please don’t go.” Seulgi moved closer and brought their hands down to her lap — and it was never clear whose doing it was, but at some point their fingers clasped together too easily, too tightly. It felt like Seungwan's hand had been replaced by her ribcage, and Seulgi was merciless in her grip. “Please don’t leave me."
It was a plea for a promise. One that she couldn't bring herself to make. Not when Seulgi had been staring at her so intensely; searching her like she was made of hope and possibility and all the things that wouldn't have been as daunting to see back home. Back in Canada.
They never had a chance to begin with, and there was nothing she could do to change that.
So Seungwan didn’t say a word.
Seulgi kissed her anyway.
And nothing changed the day after, when they woke up on the latter's bed with wrinkled clothes and a faint pounding in their heads, combated by the complaints on their tongues about being utter lightweights. They were lucky the vocal instructor had called in sick at the last minute, and even if Sooyoung's attempts at waking them were for nought in the end, it at least gave them more time to not appear hungover at their afternoon dance session.
But it hit her later, when Seungwan caught herself staring at her friend’s lips for the sixth time in a single hour; and she recalled how they felt against her own.
“Do you remember how much we had?" she eventually whispered to Seulgi near the end of a break, feigning stretches to avoid looking at her.
“Too much,” her willowy companion shrugged, wiping the sweat off her brow before leaning down a bit to lower her voice. “But I probably talked your ear off last night. Do you remember if I said anything weird?"
There. An opportunity to fish for an answer. "You asked me not to leave you,” instead came out as “You told me what you hate,” when Seungwan switched to kneading her legs, and Seulgi paused beside her. They were getting somewhere. “You, uh…you spoke about how you don’t like becoming attached to things easily."
“Oh.” The dancer bent down to touch her toes for a few seconds before rolling her ankles. Her voice had grown quiet then, and it felt almost like the night before. “…I guess the truth really does come out when you’re drunk, huh?”
“I guess,” Seungwan echoed back slowly. Next leg. “Um. You got really clingy as well."
“I did?” Seulgi laughed a little at that, sitting back with a curious grin at the shorter one. “What else did I do?"
A shrug, and a thoughtful hum. “Rolled around on the bed muttering something about Pokémon and ice cream."
The gears seemed to wind in Seulgi’s brain, and Seungwan couldn’t help but let quirk up at the sight of her perplexed expression. “I’ll take that as a ’nothing’, then,” the taller trainee eventually giggled when she caught the mischievous smile in her friend’s expression. “You…You’d tell me if I did do something embarrassing, right?"
Seungwan managed to scoff playfully, but the feeling of velvet pink flesh still seared her lips and poisoned her mind, and she was too far gone to play pretend as well as she normally would. “Yeah.” She wondered whether or not crossing her fingers would make her feel any less guilty. “Of course."
Apparently her acting skills were top-notch, because Seulgi let it slide and they continued practice, and it was never brought up again.
Things have changed since then.
People came and went. Some autidioned and stayed for months, others for a year or so. They made friends with newcomer Park Sooyoung, took care of a Kim Yerim that they never knew they’d perform with, and grew closer with every gruelling choreography and harder-than-usual practice session.
Joohyun stayed, driven and determined and strong as ever. Seungwan kept a promise that she never verbally agreed to, because regardless of drunk kisses and clandestine thoughts, it was her finish line to reach as well.
And of course Seulgi stayed. She constantly talked herself up like she had been doing so for seven years, and even after going through a slump she got back up as if it were as easy as simply tripping. Seungwan always did admire the sheer steadfast ambition in her same-aged friend, and the pride she would feel seeing her power through adversity almost made her forget just how vulnerable she really was.
But years later she still sees it in her eyes; how Seulgi clings to thoughts and feelings, memories and ideas, and allows them to eat away at her like a parasite. And Seungwan can only watch. She watches it like she catches Seulgi watching her, sometimes. She wonders what she sees; if they’re the same sort of vulnerabilities that she knows they’ve become so attuned to in each other. Seungwan knows for sure that one thing that’s stayed true is her best friend’s very persona. A disposition kindred to naïveté, but somehow more mature. More weathered and experienced, yet still so unaccustomed to such inherent human things.
Things like sentimentality.
So when Sooyoung barges into the three-person bedroom one warm June afternoon, muttering something about “Seulgi's cousin’s dead dog,” Seungwan finds herself jumping up without a second thought. She forgets to ask for any details and leaves her phone lying carelessly where she had been sitting, messaging her older sister about university and their parents and things that apparently don’t take much precedence over her group member. Yerim gives her own phone a break to shoot her an odd look out of the corner of her eye, but it’s the expression on the face of the second youngest that catches her off guard.
Sooyoung's eyebrows quirk up almost imperceptibly as soon as she shifts from the bed. Their eyes meet when Seungwan rushes past, and for the briefest of moments the fresh-faced beauty of the group almost looks suspicious. But it’s not important right now, even if there is something far too knowing in Sooyoung’s gaze. Even if she feels that gaze burning on her back, several seconds after she shuts the door behind her.
It’s exceedingly quiet all of a sudden, without the familiar tap-tapping of Yerim’s texting, and she starts to miss Joohyun’s hushed reciting of her character's lines. But she's out filming her webdrama and Seulgi’s here crying and Seungwan has priorities that may or may not lie the same way that they’ve always been since she first saw her best friend as someone she couldn’t lose, rather than someone she could actually keep.
"Seul?" she calls, tries not to come off too frantic, and fails miserably.
"Wan," the dancer responds a few surprised seconds later, sitting up from staring blankly at her hands and sniffing as she does.
There are tear tracks on her cheeks and a red flush to her nose and ears, and it's simultaneously the most disheartening and most adorable sight that Seungwan’s ever been graced with. "Hey,” she starts softly, careful not to jostle the bed as she takes a seat beside her best friend. Close, but not too close. "I heard from Sooyoung. About your cousin's dog."
Another sniff, and a wad of tissue chucked into the bin. "It's okay. I'm okay."
And realistically, she will be okay. She’s the sort of person who can pull herself together in a matter of minutes, and completely skip the rest of the grieving processes to speak fondly of the deceased canine at dinner. Seungwan’s personally seen her bounce back from her lows like it’s common practice, which has always served to awe and and worry her more than she’ll ever say.
Seulgi smiles at her then like she knows what’s going on in her brain, and this is more than likely another little episode of letting the tears out before fixing herself, simple and easy. Ready to move on.
Seungwan stays with her anyway; because she’s always found it hard to move on.
"What breed was it?" she asks, bouncing the mattress lightly to pull a small giggle from the girl.
"Husky,” Seulgi replied, a mellow smile on her lips. "Kinda small for his age. He was really old."
“Passed from old age?"
“He got really ill, and they had to put him down.” She plays with the edge of her comforter slowly. “Put him out of his misery, you know?"
“Yeah.” She puts a hand on Seulgi’s out of instinct, and relaxes when Seulgi lets her weave their fingers together. They sit in silence, but Seungwan can’t tell if they’re mourning the loss of a furry companion, or just basking in the presence of one another.
She tries not to do the latter. She really does.
“I think…I just tend to cry over things that don’t belong to me,” the dancer utters eventually, and Seungwan freezes as she’s struck with the memory of a lanky girl in a tangerine top, crying over her brother’s late goldfish in a practice room wallpapered with a sky of clouds.
“Seems like a bad habit,” she says, when the image burns behind her eyelids and whispers to the weaker, more vulnerable parts of her mind. The practice room melts into a cramped dorm room on her coming-of-age, and suddenly she’s nineteen years-old again.
But that was then, they whisper. That was then, and this is now.
“Another one to add to the list,” Seulgi smiles, looking wistful and pained in ways that she shouldn’t; ways that make Seungwan wish she could make it all disappear somehow.
“Really,” she murmurs, tucking away a lock of hair that sticks to her tearstained cheek. Seulgi gives her this peculiar look then, and she glances down at their entwined fingers out of something that’s neither nerves or shyness — though she would loathe to admit what else it could possibly be. But then she's tracing her gaze along the shadows of their skin, and eventually focuses on how her hand curls around Seulgi’s.
It feels far too intimate, all of a sudden.
The notion spurs Seungwan to flutter her eyes upward again, and she’s probably tired; but she swears there's a tremble in her best friend's gaze, fixing on the space between them before searching for something in her eyes.
(And really, that —
She just makes it all so difficult.)
“Please don't cry,” the younger one speaks to their hands after a length, brushing her thumb across the back of warm, familiar skin. She hears Seulgi take a deep lungful of air, but she doesn’t register it past the thrum of her heart in her ears. She can’t seem to let go. “You cry enough for the both of us already. It’s…" Adorable. Worrying. Endearing.
Seulgi squeezes her hand gently. “Easier said than done. To stop."
“I guess,” Seungwan laughs a little, and she’s surprised at how humourless it sounds. A hollow chuckle. “You become attached to things way too much…I mean,” she tilts her head to the side thoughtfully. “It’s not bad.”
Seulgi's lips twitch up slightly. “And yet, you look like you want to tell me to stop."
“Because I don’t like it when you’re upset,” the main vocalist answers softly. “Especially if you’re crying."
I don't like seeing you in pain of any kind.
“I’m not that upset. Trust me." Seulgi says with a light grin and a nudge, and something in her snaps silently — more hurt than angry, yet frustrated all the same.
"How can I trust you when you're keeping secrets from me?”
All of a sudden they're not talking about deceased pets and bad habits anymore, and a certain flash flickers across Seulgi’s eyes again — sad and clandestine and hidden in the blink of an eye behind another smile.
"They're not secrets that will magically make things better, if I put them out in the open."
She draws her hand away into her lap and Seungwan reluctantly takes hers back as well, clutching at the hem of her jumper to make up for lost warmth.
It doesn't work.
The growing sense of loss seems to show on her face then, because Seulgi speaks again and turns the tables, and now Seungwan isn't the one here to be comforting anymore. "As my best friend, I just need you to trust me and let me keep my secrets to myself."
"And how do I trust that you’ll be fine like this?” Seungwan tries, restraining the need to reach out for her hand again and hold her until she miraculously becomes okay.
"You can’t,” she continues to smile, as if she hadn’t just discredited herself. "I can tell you that much.”
Seungwan exhales at the same time Seulgi breathes in.
"But I'll get better. That's just the way it is."
It’s reminiscent of their darker times, three years back when Seulgi was going through her slump and all Seungwan could do was stay by her side; help her up every time she fell into a trap of her own spiralling thoughts. This feels a little too similar to it, and she finds forming words of her heart by itself. "You deserve better, Seulgi."
"A lot of people deserve better than what they get,” the lithe girl shrugs, before dropping a tone as she glances at Seungwan. “Don’t you think you do, too?"
In any other situation with any other person, she would have thought she was being diverted from the original topic on purpose. But this is Seulgi, and Seulgi cares about her too much; even when she catches her gazing at her sometimes with this particular look. As if she hurts and protects her at the same time, in the strangest of ways.
It’s how she imagines she looks at Seulgi, behind closed doors. In other words; it’s a safety hazard.
A safety hazard, and the epitome of what Seungwan’s been trying to avoid for the better part of her time in South Korea.
“I’m fine with what I have,” is what she responds with when Seulgi’s eyes become too heavy on her form, and then there’s a glance passed her way that’s oddly more emphatic than pitying. It makes her want to wonder, but she’s done enough of that to drive herself insane.
"You shouldn’t be.” Seulgi sighs, propping her weight behind her with both arms. "No one should get used to heartache."
Heartache, huh?
Seungwan huffs a small, short laugh. "Too bad we can't choose who we fall for, huh?” she says just to bask in all its irony, and then there’s a static silence. Seulgi seems to go still beside her, and when the main vocalist glances over she wishes — not for the first time — that she could read minds. Because there’s a note of surprise colouring her best friend’s eyes, but more than that is the stark affliction in them that’s only seemed to build in recent months. It’s at times like this that she appreciates just how much of a good actress Seulgi is, because no one would be able to look at this girl with spiderweb cracks in her stare, and be able to connect her to the very same Kang Seulgi who captivates people with her ever-bubbly personality and endless optimism.
“Yeah…” she murmurs eventually to the frame of the bunk bed across them, and just like that the look is gone; and Seungwan isn’t sure if she wants to be appreciative of her acting skills anymore. "But we can choose who we go to talk to about it,” Seulgi continues, eyeing her now with a concerned frown that Seungwan hates, because it’s there for all the wrong reasons. All because of Seunwan’s own doing; her own lies. "You haven't spoken since the first time you told me."
"I'm doing fine as I am right now,” she says, in a desperate effort to avoid spinning any more illusions for her best friend. “I don’t need to talk about it."
Seulgi stares at her thoughtfully. “It doesn’t have to be about that, though,” she presses on, sitting up straight and turning to her, and Seungwan almost leans back because she’s always remembered all too clearly each time they’ve been in this exact position.
Mainly, the second time. Definitely the second time.
“You can talk about anything that might be troubling you,” Seulgi continues, and Seungwan thinks for the umpteenth time of how it would be a lot easier if Seulgi wasn’t so caring. "To me, or to Sooyoung, Yerim…even Joohyun-unnie herself.” A warm hand reaches out and pats her own, and she stops herself from entertwining them once more. "You've got our managers, our sunbaes. You even have our families to talk to, if my mom's birthday card is anything to go by."
Seungwan laughs at that, recalling the warm memory of tearing up over the various cards sent to her from the Kang, Bae, Park, and Kim households respectively. All congratulating her on her achievements, and all thanking her for taking care of their daughters, as they had each talked about their part-time main vocalist’s full-time job as resident mother of the group as well.
“Actually, sometimes I think she'd have me swapped with you as a Kang in a heartbeat," Seulgi chuckles, suddenly lighter than before. She had read the card over Seungwan’s shoulder, giggling at her family’s words and whining at the subsequent teasing she received from the shorter vocalist's end. "You set awfully high standards for a daughter to live up to, Son Seungwan."
It brings to mind the first time she ever met Seulgi’s parents, and how no matter how hard she tried she still felt like she was meeting in-laws, or something just as daunting. "She loves you, though,” she reminds her softly, planting a tiny smile on her expression. "It makes me miss my own mom, really."
Determination filters into Seulgi’s expression then, and the hand holding hers squeezes gently. "We're going to take you back to Canada sooner or later,” the dancer affirms. "I know Joohyun-unnie's pretty adamant on seeing your house.” The casual but meaningful mention prods at the residual guilt in Seungwan’s stomach, but before she can brood over it her attention is pulled to the mischievous grin on her companion’s lips. "I especially want to show Sejoon that you do, in fact, own a mansion."
Seungwan makes a face. "But I don’t."
"You say that now,” Seulgi sniffs, giggling as the main vocalist shoves her shoulder lightly.
"I'll make sure to visit as soon as possible,” the shorter girl huffs over-dramatically, shaking her head with mock exasperation.
"You better,” Seulgi mutters playfully. "Do you think we can visit your old schools, too?"
There’s a sort of eager innocence in her eyes that reminds Seungwan of her days back in Canada, and it’s too endearing for her self-established ’safe-zone’, but she finds herself nodding anyway. "I don't see why not,” she shrugs, before deciding to get away from any more emotionally-distressing topics at the risk of one of them crying. Or worse. “Now,” she claps her hands together and stands. “What do you say to helping me make dinner?
It draws out a snort of laughter and a teasing eyesmile from the bear-like girl. “Are you sure you want me anywhere near the kitchen?"
Seungwan nods, putting her hands on her hips with a stern look on her face. “Of course. You’re my most trusted helper.” They share a smile, and it feels like they’re back to normal. “Either way I’m not taking ’no’ for an answer. So."
Seulgi beams back, taking her proffered hand and standing with a bounce. “You know I’ll never say ’no’ to you, Wan-ah,” she utters with a hint of a smirk on her lips; one that dissolves into a laugh as Seungwan pushes her playfully in response and shoos her ahead, away into the kitchen. They take up their usual spots — Seulgi at the counter and Seungwan at the stove — and it feels familiar. It feels nice. Like being in love with your best friend, but being okay with it.
Even though it’s not true, she’ll take what she can get. Having Seulgi here hurts her as equally as she imagines it would not to, and she falls back onto that certainty once more. That if she were to choose between taking her chances or cowering away, she would choose the latter. She would. She would.
(She wouldn’t.)
It’s become part of her routine, anyway. Wandering as close as she dares; shying away when it becomes too much; turning to Joohyun to distract herself. All integral in keeping up her four-year facade.
Besides, she’s made too many mistakes already. Like more recently — in her brief trip to Dubai. There are limits to the amount of times you can say certain things to your best friend without completely giving yourself away.
So when she looks up from preparing their dinner and catches Seulgi smiling at her, she doesn’t let the “I love you” slip from her tongue.
Not again. She can’t do this again.
And really: what good would come of it, anyway?
Okay, so this was a long one (
But I have noted that there’s been a lot of wendy/seulgi to write about over the past few months. I wondered if something happened after OOTN.
This is officially on hiatus until further notice! I'm sorry it took this long to make a statement, but after forcing myself to write and hating each and every word, I want to try and focus on other stuff for now. This will be finished, one day.
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