1.

"Debut."

The word was like a double-edged sword decorated in gold and laced with poison. And right now, it felt as though someone had aimed the weapon at my heart, right at an exposed crevice in it's surface, and proceeded to ram it inside. The pain spilled over in little waves, an agonising throb trickling through my veins. 

And I stood there, with that dreadful sword sticking out from my chest, clad in my punctured armour of careful smiles. Looking back, the vision of her came piling back in my dreams, on a broken repeat. And the memory of us singed every enjoyable moment onwards, over and over again. 

For the first time, I doubted myself. 

Where was my promised flower path? 

2.

The night was cold. 

I walked down the quiet streets, snuggling into the thin scarf around my neck for warmth, listening to my footfalls. It was funny how everything looked different when plunged in darkness and especially tonight, the familiar streets seemed particularly foreign. There was something about the roads, the way they were drenched in splashes of dimly-illuminated orange; the street-lamps gave beckoning bows, as though inviting me to step into their modest circles of light. 

And there was something about the trees, the way they reached out to touch the sky. The night had coloured their branches and leaves into pitch, and it became hard to discern whether or not I was staring at a piece of the night-sky or an overhead of thick dark leaves. The way everything was... it felt like I was seeing it all for the first time again. 

I paused at the start of the bridge, my feet stopping before the part where the pavement began to curve and rise. Turning around, I approached the railings and peered into the unlit river. There was nothing I could see--it was like a void--but I could hear the waves lapping against the thick columns beneath me.

It sounded nice. 

And it echoed throughout the evening quietude, save for the usual background noise. 

I pushed my hands off the cool railings, continuing onwards.

There was no mistaking it, the night was cold.

I shivered under the merger protection of my red skull pullover, squinting my eyes at the chilly wind that had suddenly burst through. In an attempt to find warmth, I brought the hoodie over my head and stuffed my hands--which had gone numb--into the generous pockets of my pullover. I wished I had brought an extra jacket. 

I stopped again, inhaling deeply. 

Then, a sour chuckle slipped past my lips. 

What am I doing? 

It was not that hard really, to turn around and head back into the comfort of the dorm. All the girls would be there, precious smiles painted across their faces as they welcomed me back. Mina would be there, asking again for permission if she could eat a snack (poor girl--but I understood). And there will be warmth, and there will be love and care...

Perhaps, that was why I found myself so attached to them. 

And Chungha--

At that, I squeezed my eyes shut and shook my head, pushing away the thought.  

Yes, tonight was oh so very cold. 

3.

To say that I was surprised would be an understatement. The information had gripped me, knocked the words right out of my chest and in an instant, my mind drew a sharp blank, rendering it empty. 

"Girls, did you hear me?" 

The voice hardly drew me out of the silence in my head. It was as if the inner workings of my mind had ceased, the gears abruptly jammed against each other, rotating and reversing in all the wrong directions. I did not know what to think. 

"W-What did you say?" Mina stuttered, staring at him with eyes wide like saucers.

As I withdrew my hand from the cup of hot coffee, my brain lost comprehension of what it was studying and I leaned into the seat stiffly, finding the interior of the noisy eatery suddenly claustrophobic. And I was strangely aware of the flickering stained-yellow ceiling lamp hanging above me, acutely conscious of my rigid posture, and the entire place in general--I felt oddly stricken by this previously pleasant space. 

I drummed my fingers against the hollow surface of the wooden table-top. 

Of course, I had heard him loud and clear the first time.

But I just had to hear it again. 

"Debut. We have decided to add you two, along with Nayoung, into the line-up for the new girl group and..." 

I grasped at the words for comprehension. But from that point onwards, I could hear them no longer.  

No matter how slowly he spoke, his words went into one ear and came out the other, slipping past my reality. So instead, I watched Mina as her expressions mirrored my own--strained with a concealed blend of heavy joy and pain. Something flickered in her eyes and I knew that it had struck her hard on the head like it did with mine.

To debut--oh, the implications--is this really happening--

The thoughts rushed in, a contorted mess, spilling all over in painful tints and shades. 

And for some reason, I wanted to hide.

Debut. 

My heart failed to flutter like the first time the word had been uttered to me.

"So, what do you say?" He leaned forward, propping his elbows on the table, and looked at us with a warm dark gaze. And then it came, a smile so full of expectancy and assurance played upon his lips. At the same time Mina turned to look at me, gripping the hem of my sleeve dependently.

I tried to remember what it was like before I.O.I's debut. 

Oh heck, even before the programme Produce 101, and I was certain--maybe--that this was supposed to be my dream.

Had I forgotten?  

And so, surely, I'm sure--this was something I could not refuse. 

4. 

"Unnie, we heard the news!"

My eyes darted from one beaming face to another. 

"Congratulations!" 

A pang of aching disbelief shot through my chest. 

The kids pulled me into the kitchen, where the dining table had been pushed aside for space, and a brightly-lit cake sat on the counter. I raised my head hesitantly and saw gaudy coloured streamers hanging from cabinet knob to knob, evidently alluding to their elaborate efforts. But right now, repaying their smiles with happiness of my own was the least of my abilities. 

I wanted to yell and stamp my feet like a child who had been given presents but may not open them. I wanted to hug each and every member, and possibly squeeze the sense out of their minds. I wanted to cry and wail, just for them to realise the turmoil that has been eating away at me since the meeting.  

But I couldn't. 

"...They wouldn't tell us much though," someone complained and there a wave of agreement washed through the girls. "The staff, even Manager Oppa, are so secretive about it." 

"I feel the same way," said Sohye, who was clad in her penguin-shark suit. Then she turned to us, smiling with confusion flickering in her eyes. 

Mina braced herself as she slipped her hand into mine, and I felt her fingers curl against my skin. Likewise, I prepared myself. 

"So, when is it? Is the debut next year?" 

And instantly my throat ran dry.

The question--I knew it was coming. But when it did, for some reason, I still felt the shock rippling through my veins. 

I blinked at her, lips parted in a pause, the words hanging from the tip of my tongue but refusing to fall for I knew they would, like kidney stones. And when an awkward silence ensued, I felt the pressure of all eyes resting on my shoulders and I started, quickly thinking of an elaborate lie. 

But all I managed to conjure in response was a meek, "I don't know." 

Unable to conceal the distress any longer, I pushed my way gently through the crowd, mumbling something about needing to visit the restroom and released my shaking grip on Mina's hand.

Oh, the impulse to run away had become real. 

"Unnie--"

It was Somi's voice that stopped me in my tracks amidst the wave of confused mutters. I turned slightly, acutely aware of my sinking heart when the pair of poignant nut-brown eyes met my own. There was something in her voice, an alarming edge to it, that gripped me in her stare. 

There was a pause and the deafening sound of shuffling feet echoed in my head as the girls backed away to gather around Somi. All eyes rested on the phone in the girl's hands and I did not need to look at its small screen to know what was being shown.

After all, they had told us that the announcement was due to be released today.

As I waited for the information to sink into their heads, it felt like a pair of invisible hands had reached out to wrap themselves tightly around my neck, impeding my ability to breathe. And so I stood there shaking, feet rooted to the ground and face flushed with tension.

"I-Is this true?" Yoojung broke the silence, her voice cracking at the end of the sentence. It did not take long--it never did--for tears to course down her cheeks and from then onwards, some of the girls began crying. Doyeon wrapped her arms around the sensitive girl, rubbing Yoojung's back affectionately. 

I lowered my head, unable to meet their eyes.  

"The end of this month? July? That's too soon!" Pinky elbowed her way through the girls, her eyes darting between me and Mina. Nayoung emerged from behind closely, carefully placing a hand on her shoulder. 

However when neither of us responded, Pinky huffed in frustrated and stormed out of the kitchen. Likewise, our stone leader immediately followed after the distressed girl, her evident concern bleeding through her usual inscrutable expression. 

Oh, the impulse to escape was real. 

And so I spun on my heel, wincing at the new throb in my head, and crossed into the living room. 

Then a hand grabbed at my sleeve and I turned back once more, finally feeling compelled enough to shut the next person down. But when the familiar pair of kohl-black eyes met my own, I found myself at the loss for words. Without doubt, sadness pooled in her eyes and she searched my expression for answers but I could give nothing in return. 

My body trembled with the urge to drop it all--everything, this crumbling mess--and bury myself into her warm embrace. She took a step closer, cupping her hands around my waist carefully, her lips stretched taut into a thin line as she tried to smile for me. But I grabbed her arm, gently pushing away her hold. 

"Sejeong--"

"No," I cut her off, catching the girl by surprise with the hardness in my voice. 

"Chungha, please" --my voice broke-- "d-don't say anything."

She dropped her arms, her eyebrows furrowing in distraught. She gesticulated in frustration, conveying the absurdity of my behaviour through her actions. My eyes trailed down her precious head of blonde hair and I caught onto the sight of tears b over her crescent eyes. 

"I-I need to go." 

With that, I turned my back on her and made a run for the door. 

5.

I was injected with a strange sense of emptiness. 

The wind whipped my face, which had gone cold like something semi-defrosted, and I swallowed hard when I reached the middle of the bridge. A pale blue bicycle leaned against the lamp-post, speckled with rust, evidently abandoned by it's owner for a while now.

I stood by it and swiped my hand across it's leather seat. A thin layer of dust fluttered off my fingers. Then like the many times I have visited this place, I dropped onto the seat carefully and stared out into the familiar border-less sky.

Sometimes when I'm enclosed in this solitude, I think about the indiscriminate things in life. I think about having a picnic at the park with the girls back at Jelpi. I think about going on a relaxing cruise with Mother and Oppa. I think about going to the amusement park with the I.O.I members (oh, I'm sure the kids would enjoy that).

And I think about performing, having the stage to myself. I imagine hearing a sweet-sounding wave of applause washing through me in dulcet tones. And I think of myself sitting in that little seat, holding onto my own microphone tightly, living in that sweet brief moment of a dream with the warm spot-light shining down on my shoulders. 

And naturally, my mind wandered off again. But this time, it dived into the ocean of thoughts I had tried so hard to drown, and bursting through the depths came one question that stood out the most:

What about Chungha?

"Chungha..." Her name slipped past my lips before I could stop them, fading back into the quietude, and the wind responded with an empty howl. I ran my fingers through my hair, heaving a sigh. The dilemma was crystal clear but it's answer remained barely discernible. 

What about her? 

I kicked my legs back and forth harshly, feeling frustrated at my inability of projecting and releasing this frenzied madness whirling inside my head. 

Then as if on cue, in some absurd coincidence, I caught onto the sound of distant footfalls, growing louder with each step. And there she was, running up the slope with her bangs parted in between and brushed aside by the rippling breeze, a shade of pink dusted across her cheeks. She stopped about an arm's length away from me, the mismatched outfit hinting at the likely rush she had thrown them on in. 

It was a look that was quietly intense.

Our eyes met and once again, I found myself locked rigid in her stare.

"Hey," I broke the silence, awkwardly getting up. Then I walked stiffly towards the railings, for some reason decided that leaning against it was a better idea than sitting down on the bicycle seat. 

"Hi." 

Chungha followed suit and rested her arms on railing, wrapping her fingers around it's cold metal surface.

Our hands were close, but not quite touching. 

"You came," I said, looking at her. She blinked as though having trouble digesting my words. 

"I knew you'd be here," she answered softly, breaking the eye contact as she turned to gaze into the wide canvas of the dark sky, drinking in the night view of scattered lights. Then she added, "you always were... before." 

It was funny how despite the countless number of times we had spent time together, my eyes never failed to rest upon her petite and delicate frame like the first time. And under the faint light of a street-lamp, she was casted in a lovely orange glow that accentuated the round gentle curves of her cheeks and bare shoulders, and dyed her locks of blonde hair in a fiery shade of golden. 

"Chungha..." I trailed my fingers along the railings, suddenly overwhelmed with an urgent desire to touch her hand. "I--" 

"--don't go."

It barely came out as a whisper but I heard her loud and clear, the words ringing out in my head. In addition, I could not tear my gaze away from fixating on the subtle tremble in her jaw, up to her pale lips. Then catching me by surprise, she turned around sharply and pulled me into a sudden tight embrace. 

"Don't go," her voice was ragged and a rare tone of hushed desperation underscored it. I squeezed my eyes shut and took in a juddering intake of breath, returning the hug generously. 

But without her saying aloud, we both knew.

Oh, we both knew--that what she asked for was something that I could not grant. 

And so I stood there stiffly, seeing past the night, holding her softly for what was perhaps, the last time.

6.

"...and wrapping up the stage for us, that was the long awaited debut stage of Jellyfish Entertainment's new girl group, Gugudan! Featuring innocent and mysterious charms, these girls..." 

I climbed down the stairs, my legs still shaking from the electrifying rush. There was something about being together with everyone on stage that made the experience feel like a dream. And my love for singing and performing only traveled deeper into the crevices of my heart. 

Clad in shimmering short dresses of baby blue, the girls exchanged simultaneous glances of contentment, each member still slightly breathless from the exhilarating stage.

"Be careful--" 

Hana caught onto my arm when I almost slipped, and I smiled gratefully in response, mumbling my thanks.

It felt strange to be taken care of by my Unnies--previously, it had always been my part--and sometimes I still catch myself forgetting that I'm in a different group now. 

"Everyone," our leader walked towards the center of the waiting room nervously, gesturing for everyone to gather together. "...I'm so proud of all of you. I still can't believe it but--we did it! We, Gugudan, have finally and officially debuted!" 

And the girls huddled together tightly as a group, some of them bursting into tears of relief and joy.

Unable to contain the emotions, I struggled to smile in between my cries. 

We did it.

I broke out of the circle and reached out for the box of tissues resting on the counter, passing it towards my tear-streaked members. The reality of our debut had barely sunk in--it felt like I was moving through a dream. A memory reel of past trainee days came rolling back, in which a slideshow of all the late night practices and daily struggles began to play out in my head. 

We did it. 

It felt so unreal. 

"Unnie," Mina tugged at my sleeve and I turned around, hastily wiping my wet cheeks with the back of a hand. At the sight, the girl made a strained face, her brows furrowing in an attempt to stop her own tears from overflowing again. She parted her lips, looking as if she wanted to complain, but eventually decided against it and instead, calmed down by fanning herself.

Then in a low voice, she said, "Unnie, I got a text saying the I.O.I members are waiting outside for us." 

7.

Where is she? 

I searched high and low, and eventually managed to stumble upon Chungha sitting alone in the other dressing room with her hands cupped nervously around her knees. The girl was clad in a comfortable looking grey sweater, blue denim jeans and white converse sneakers. I felt my breath hitch at the sight. 

It was a neat and simple look, just her style. 

I swallowed hard, shoulders stiffening, and my heart ached at the overt reminder of how arrestingly beautiful Chungha was. Her hair was now brown--drenched in a lovely dark shade of coffee brown; and her skin was just as white as I remembered it to be. In an instant, my previous memory of her was painted over by the new current one. 

The dam of bittersweet nostalgia broke and before I knew it, all the memories and thoughts I had tried so hard to push away came piling back. Why was I so happy and yet, so utterly torn to see her again? 

Upon my entry, Chungha stood up abruptly, staring at me with an honest look of surprise. It seemed like the girl had not intended for me to find her here. And she was the same girl--prettier now--but for some reason, Chungha seemed a little different too.

Refusing to let the silence settle, I stepped through the door and blurted out, "Why aren't you with the others?"

But the quietude sunk in anyway for the girl kept mum and turned her back towards me. 

In a way, the question had a rhetoric edge to it. For the past few weeks, I had received no response to my texts, let alone messages of encouragement or congratulations from the girl. More often than not, I saw myself in the reflection of that sharp questioning blade and sometimes, I think--was it my fault?

It felt like we had become strangers overnight. 

Or maybe, surely, it was an unfortunate habit that she had perhaps, picked up somewhere along the way...

Had you forgotten about us?

"I sent you some messages... Why didn't you reply to them, Chungha?" I tried again, not intending for my voice to break off at the end. I could see the uncomfortable strain in her expression and at first my natural reaction was to stop, but the terrible throb stabbing through my heart was too much to bear.

And so, I pressed on for answers. 

"Chungha--" I repeated her name in an unconcealed tone of urgency. But the girl only lowered her head, taking a step further away from me, and that alone was enough to send an awful surge of emotions bursting through my hot veins, rupturing my entire composure.

"Chungha--!" 

In a rush, I grabbed her hand. 

Oh and how the contact burned. 

"Why are you here?"  I paused, finding my face tear-streaked and body trembling with torment. Then feeling compelled to taste her name upon my lips again, I repeated the question once more. 

"Chungha,"--it was a bittersweet taste--"what are you doing here?" 

With a heavy sigh, she turned around. 

Oh and how the sight burned--it was a smile, forced upon her lovely features in such a disconcerting manner that alarmed me, crooked at the corners of her lips as a result of trying to conceal her own unrelenting distress. It was a haunting look, a lingering sight that engulfed me in its entirety, gripping me in its toxicity, and drowning me in an ocean that had no surface; drowning me again and again--drowning me when she said:  

"I came here to say, congratulations." 

8.

Even as the days go by

and I move further away from you,

the memory of us burns like ember--

an undying flame, lighting my way

through the darkness. 

And again I ask,

where was my promised flower path?