One thing good about working with a single soloist is that their schedules are vaguely manageable - Jieqiong cannot physically be in multiple places at once which means that Nayoung occasionally gets days or at least evenings off after dropping her off at the dorm.

Today is one of those days.

Jieqiong had just finished her first radio schedule, giggled along with the host who might now be slightly enamored or at least vaguely intrigued (beyond the usual pleasantries) and after dropping her off at the dorm, Nayoung has nothing to do for the next full day.

The light turns green and she steps lightly on the gas, hears the engine rev over well, nothing. Neither the usual chatter nor occasional light snoring.

Nayoung turns the radio on.

Her phone buzzes then runs out of battery but that's alright because there are no schedules for the next day.

Nayoung cracks the door to her apartment open, puts her bag down by the door, closes it and locks it behind her and then basically all but flops onto her bed.

She should probably wash up and change out of pajamas but she had not realized just how tired she had actually been over the past few days, had not realized the extent to which she has been running on fumes that have now all but fizzled out because there are no more schedules and she can finally, finally rest.

It is still dark when she opens her eyes again. For a brief moment Nayoung panics and the fear that she has literally slept the entire day away and is now late starts to creep into her heart.

Then her bedside clock blinks 04:38

Aw damn it.

Nayoung rolls over and tries to fall back asleep but it does not work. Napping for seven hours tends to do that to a person.

She finally gives up ten minutes later, sits up in her now-rumpled shirt. There is probably an imprint on her skin running all the way from her waist to her ankle from the seam of the jeans that she is still wearing.

Tossing on more comfortable clothes has her sitting cross-legged on the floor, laptop beside her, about to do the one thing she probably should not do while half-asleep.

Nayoung types in Zhou Jieqiong and starts reading comments on the Internet.

She gets through the little fragment of xenophobia fairly quickly - most seem fond of Jieqiong for having put in this much effort to master Korean - the odd ‘she's not Korean?!’ comment appearing from time to time makes her hold back a giggle.

Her logical side says she is doing this because she is Jieqiong’s manager and it is always good to get a finger on the pulse, to touch base with the ground and get a feel for things to do and things to avoid.

The other side suggests she is a masochist though the thought flits away quickly when she reads a comment that says, quite simply, that Jieqiong was born to be a celebrity.

Nayoung sits back a little, realizes that she does not disagree at all, realizes that it does not sting in the slightest.

Huh. Interesting.

She keeps reading.

When her alarm clock goes the next day, Nayoung realizes with a start that her phone is dead.

She must have forgotten to charge it, still only has a vague recollection of where she had tossed it yesterday but she really only needs to be back at the office and she could drive there in her sleep (not literally).

She finds her usual spot right in the back of the small street, walks the two blocks into the company and comes face to face with a really pouty Jieqiong.

“Hi.”

“You ignored me.”

“Huh?”

Jieqiong jabs a finger at the phone in Nayoung's hand that is only now turning on from the little bit of charge it had gotten from her car.

“I texted you.”

“Oh,” Nayoung says, “oh. Sorry.”

Jieqiong looks a little hurt and does not speak to her as she usually would as they walk back to the company car.

Every time she catches Nayoung looking at her, she turns away with a twitch of her nose and a soft hmph.

Nayoung knows she should be annoyed but for some reason she just finds this amusing and a tad cute.

“Buckle your seat belt,” she says.

“I was gonna,” Jieqiong mumbles, almost as if she were about to stick out her tongue at Nayoung.

Nayoung smiles, reaches over, and ruffles her hair, “Sorry I didn't read your texts.”

Jieqiong squawks and turns bright red.

Nayoung's smile only grows.

“So.”

Nayoung looks up from her phone to Jieqiong sitting in the waiting room. The stylists have headed home for the day - this radio appearance is not even viewable so they don't need to be there.

“Dinner?”

Nayoung nods, “After this. The noodle place you like closes late, we should be able to make it.”

Jieqiong looks like the words have been taken out of , then purses her lips before saying, “I'm still mad.”

Nayoung chuckles as the door to the recording room opens.

“Go get ‘em, tiger.”

Jieqiong glares at her but there is no heat behind it.

“And just how did you learn a dialect?”

“Oh, the stylist-unnies taught it to me. And my manager-unnie falls back into it when she's sleepy. It's really cute. Manager-unnie, are you listening?”

Is she listening?

Is Nayoung desperately looking for a hole to crawl into?

The answer to both questions is the same.

Nayoung wants to half bury her face in her hands from sheer embarrassment and half pat Jieqiong on the back for a job well done when the radio show host laughs along.

Jieqiong flounces out of the room later, after having bowed about twenty times in thanks to the radio show host, then shoots her an incredibly smug look.

“Dinner?”

Nayoung resists the urge to give her a noogie.

Nayoung buys Jieqiong’s favorite noodles, sets them down in front of her, watches as she looks up from her phone with a sly grin. Jieqiong had been uncharacteristically quiet in the car ride, not even the usual ‘what should I get for dinner’ nor ‘what time do I need to be up tomorrow and why is it so early’.

“Are you still mad?”

Jieqiong’s grin widens, “No. Were you worried?”

Nayoung rolls her eyes, “Shut up and eat.”

Jieqiong sticks her tongue out. Nayoung gently thwacks her head and she whines.

They both smile.

“Are you rea-”

The door swings open, Jieqiong tugs nervously at her mask.

Nayoung eyes the oversized sweater, jeans and sneakers, nods.

“You look nice,” Jieqiong says.

Nayoung arches an eyebrow but tugs self-consciously at her coat, “You're not too bad yourself.”

Jieqiong beams and latches onto her elbow, “just not too bad?”

Nayoung looks down, “It's an off-day. I'm not obligated to say things to make you feel good about yourself when I'm not working.”

Jieqiong’s mouth falls open, she looks like she is abou