chapter one: fools and bar stools

In hindsight, Jihyo was never the one to enjoy spontaneous meetings despite her company that Momo so desperately needed at this moment in time. There was something about Mina’s mansion that scared the out of Momo, that it was unusually humongous, had an uncanny number of bedrooms and pictures of her old relatives took up the space of the walls. It was a contrast, and Momo was not impressed nor surprised, she had already faced the toll of weird and wonderful in Beverly Hills.

“Who’s catering again?” Nayeon hisses and rebuttals at the younger one who, in response to Nayeon’s tone, pulls a petulant face, “Oh, that's right. Me.” And she points to herself, and Momo can barely hear the conversation going on at the stupidly long dining table.

Although Momo never really knew what was happening most of the time, it was the first and only time she’d be so interested in listening intently on a conversation. It wasn't odd for Nayeon to nag, she hears it every day next door at school (Momo’s not all that religious but visiting the school chapel doesn't hurt when Jihyo rooms with the devil), and it’s a nuisance almost, but Nayeon seemed like she was about to pop.

Chaeyoung only sulks in her chair and eyes Jeongyeon, who in turn, did nothing to upset the girl but being such a sisterly figure to her, took the responsibility of her being such a mope.

“Nayeon, please,“ The older girl pleaded, almost tiredly, “Chaeyoung works hard, you know that. She’s not the richest of us all but she makes great food with what she has and what we provide. This year’s Beverly Ball doesn’t need to be that fantastic, and I quote,” Jeongyeon raises a finger, “We just need to make it loveable, something people will remember.”

“Sunshine, ty food isn’t what I meant when I said people would find it memorable.”

(That one stung, like a too. If there was a person to insult Chaeyoung’s cooking so openly, it would for sure be Beverly Hill’s own Piper. And she fit the criteria, perfectly, if you ask anyone— constant whining and general awfulness, don't think anyone could snatch the lead role off of Nayeon Im this time.)

Momo shifts in her seat but can’t utter a word through the white noise of the dining hall. The Beverly Ball was a big deal for Nayeon, if that didn't get to you yet, and she would drag everyone down to hell and back with her to perfect it and almost every year rig the votes so she’d be queen. Queen for 5 years straight, that is.

Finally, after maintaining silence and exchanging glances for a horrendous three minutes, Momo musters up her minimal courage and isn't sure Nayeon’s agreeing with her or shaking her head out of resentment— when she says, “We can always split the catering, right?”

And Momo swears bile isn't building up in right now, and convinces herself that she will not choke, “It’s not like any girls eat anything else apart from the punch— we’re basically catering for the boys that crash the ball.”

“Convenient of you to say that, Miss Momo,” Mina appears and (God forbid imagining what would've happened if Nayeon decided to open and retort to whatever nonsense Momo, definitely, spewed out ) thankfully Momo’s heart stops racing and Mina carries in a tray of punch much to her own delight.

“But I agree. It is my turn to host the Ball, I’m sure all forms of insight, may it be condoning or sympathetic, has been helpful, but I trust Momo to not let me down when it comes to decision making.”

Maybe it wasn't so right for Mina to appear. Maybe Momo would’ve preferred death earlier than sooner, and only because she sensed how livid Nayeon was not being in control and that the Ball, even without a slight input from the Amazing Nayeon, would be in jeopardy.

(Momo’s never had an opinion on Nayeon, she was just another rich girl like her who helped organise the Ball upon the request of the it-girl Mina Myoui, who everyone loved, and similarly, Nayeon had to be invited too, the stuck-up hissy everyone pretended to love.)

“You seem down, what's up?” Jihyo settles herself next to Momo (whose head is dug deep into the pillows of Jeongyeon) but not too close, and finds her comfort on Momo’s bed scattered with plushies, “You can tell me, idiot,” Jihyo adds and projectiles a banana pillow at Momo’s head, “I know when my best friend’s not okay.”

And at this point Momo’s on the verge of tears, excruciatingly close perhaps, and she wipes her cheeks on the blanket to destroy all evidence of being sad.

(Momo had no idea why she was crying, although, it was all too frequent that tears got the better of her, and she takes it as a sign of being sentimental when she was feeling all but nostalgic, when really, she just doesn't want to lose Nayeon. And she doesn't know why.)

“I’m not down, Hyo.”

“Then what's up!” Jihyo thought she was smart, and she was, because Momo responds anyway.

“I-I don’t think I can handle being around Nayeon anymore.” Although it was surprising to Momo (Jihyo can’t agree more with the grin that appears on her face) she fakes an adhering nod so Momo feels better.

“So how are you, Momo Hirai, former high-school heartthrob, now college emo, gonna tell Nayeon Im, former snob, now still a snob, you don't wanna be friends with her anymore?” Jihyo chimes in a somewhat sing-song voice, with the vocal chords every girl seemed to wish for.

“That's the thing, I don't know how,” Apart from being somewhat friends in elementary and being bound together forcefully with their parental friendship that (and quoted from the great biography of Nayeon’s father) bonded the two families together, Momo didn't even know if she considered Nayeon a friend, ever.

“Wait, you’re her roommate; does she take bad news easily?” (Yes, it was a surprise that Jihyo roomed with the devil, she hung around Momo’s dorm too frequently, even during roll call at sleeping hours Miss. Dulcet would never ask if Jihyo was in.)

It was a simple question, yet it makes Jihyo laugh and nearly choke up on her own spit, and Momo’s more than convinced her best friend’s been afflicted by Nayeon’s secret witch powers.

“Momo, oh, Momo,” Jihyo sings, wiping the remaining tears from her under eyes, “Nayeon’s the epitome of hell, Satan, the devil, 666, everything in the ing thesaurus for ‘terrible’,” Jihyo’s expressive hands definitely added more interest in her story-telling, and she continues,

“I spilled lipstick in her Valentino bag, since she so nicely granted me it after she spent an hour hauling through my wardrobe criticising how everything was too bland and I needed to stop shopping at flea markets less (Jihyo is rich, everyone who attends this dastardly-secretive all-girls school is, yet Jihyo’s family worked overseas so much they never had the recognition received compared to Mina’s mother’s business, something beyond being internationally known), and since then she's avoided talking to me and our conversations, if we even survived through any, are nothing more substantial than ‘hello’s’.”

“So I take it you’re staying in the acquaintance zone? Forever?” Momo finds it odd that they never got the chance to get close before Jihyo started having a weird hatred towards her. Not even in the Freshman year where Nayeon was still rising up in her tracks to become the girl that everyone attempts to like to this day.

She wasn't so hittable (yes, hittable, Momo’d do anything to knock some manners back into Nayeon) back then, since she rarely did anything but be an academic basher and fight Mina for the top grades; which her wins and losses fluctuated, first and second were always taken by them.

Although Jihyo and Momo hadn't been friends for long, their friendship was based off of one sole, above all commandment: honesty. And Momo’s convinced Jihyo has more as to why she abhors Nayeon.

“Bingo, peachy. I’m sure a day in my boots plus living with Nayeon is 24 hours in hell.”

Momo sighs and she adds, “Why can't I be Leslie Knopes? Successful, future president of the United States… or, or,” And her eyes light up, “Veronica Lodge.”

“Momo, that show, really?” Jihyo didn't watch Riverdale but she did know how much of a heartbreaker that show was, and she convinces herself that Momo’s still in her state— so she questions her motherly.

“What? Veronica’s basically Cheryl, maybe a bit toned down, but she's hot as hell and gets all she wants. Why can't I be like that?”

“Because you're still hurt, Momo. I know you are,” It isn't long before Jihyo crawls over to the other bed, softly tapping on Momo’s temples, “Moguri, if you ever wanna go back to how you were three years ago; get it out your head once and for all.” Momo knows she can't, and she knows she’s still hurt.

“You.” Mina raises her head that's decorated with plaits and she locks eyes with the girl towering over her. The library was always a secluded place and Im Nayeon always manages to make it uneasy as soon as she steps foot. Anywhere.

“I need to talk to you,” Nayeon settles down next to her and shoves Mina’s drawing aside to nest her handbag on the table, “I need you to be honest, Myoui.”

The Japanese doesn't know if she's joking or not, Nayeon never calls her by her family name, let alone Mina, since pet names exceeded casuality; Mina was Nayeon’s Piplup and Nayeon was Mina’s Squirtle.

“I’m always honest,” And suddenly Mina drops her pencil and senses Nayeon’s sincerity, “What's wrong this time?”

Silences ensues and Nayeon takes a long stare at Mina who, although very busy seems very interested in what her best-friend has to say, then crosses her legs and dips her head down for Nayeon to continue.

“Do you like—?”

And before Nayeon could finish her sentence Momo appears and now Nayeon realises why she has so much papers scattered on her table, that was she was studying with Momo in an attempt to rise her still-depleting grades.

(Desperately, Nayeon wished she had the IQ of the blonde.)

She was more than livid after that incident (it's not like any normal person would be irked by it, but fair dos to Nayeon, she has a mind of her own) at the Beverly Ball meeting.

“Oh, hi. Nayeon.” Momo interjects awkwardly and settles on the other s