-- italics indicate flashbacks.

momo turns onto her side, eyes squinting in the dark as she tries to read the clock across the room. 3:26 a.m. blinks back at her, reminding her that she should be asleep because she has practice at six. she knows she’ll groan about being tired later, will have to hear sana tell her, once again, that it’s her own fault for staying up so late, but she doesn’t care. momo likes staying up, no matter how much everyone tells her she needs to save her energy and sleep at appropriate times. the night is when the best things happen.

she hears a yawn, followed by the sound of a blanket being shifted across the bed, then, “momo?” the voice is tired, the words spoken blurred in sleep, and momo smiles. this is one of her favorite times, when it’s quiet and peaceful, when everything finally slows down and you can appreciate the simple things. she likes the feel the night brings, the way it makes everyone just a bit softer around their usual hard edges, how it turns everything from vibrant reds and greens to subdued grays and whites, how words become whispers instead of shouts.

she hums in response, a barely there sound, then waits. it’s quiet, so quiet that she thinks they’ve gone back to sleep, so she turns over away from the clock and from everything else to face the wall again. it’s only been a couple minutes before she hears the bed creak again and then the quiet footfalls across their carpeted floor.

momo is about to turn, about to question why they got up, when a hand on her shoulder stops her from moving. she stills as the hand just sits there, not pushing or pulling, just sits, and momo waits. after what feels like hours to her, the hand finally drops and then her covers are being pulled aside, a body sliding in behind hers with another yawn, “go to sleep, momo. we have to get started early tomorrow.”

momo nods, presses her face into her pillow to suppress her smile as an arm lazily drapes across her waist and a face hides away against the crook of her neck. she whispers their name, something quiet and muffled against her pillow and they hum in response, a quiet sound that slowly tampers out as they drift back into sleep.

“goodnight, chungha.”

yeah, the night is when the best things happen.
 

momo watches as jihyo offers to walk somi and chungha back out to their van, half-heartedly waving after the two once they’ve got their shoes on and all she can see is their backs as they head down the hall to the elevator. she knows there’s nothing wrong with having them here, jihyo herself had said she missed them and that they should come over more often. but she knows, just by the look sana is giving her, their presence isn’t what’s the problem here. she stands from the couch and grabs the trash from the snacks they’d eaten, avoiding everyone’s eyes as she makes her way to the kitchen. she needs to get away from the tense air that’s hanging around in the living room, needs a moment to breathe and think before everything completely crashes down.

she forcefully stuffs the empty snack bags into the trashcan, an angry huff leaving her lips with each hard push further and further into the can. she stops when she hears a throat being cleared and sighs, suddenly tired and exasperated and just not ready, and glances over her shoulder, meeting eyes with an equally exasperated looking sana. momo knows what’s coming, could tell from the moment sana knew that chungha was back around, and she knows there is no way for her to get out of this now. momo knows sana, knows that if she wants an answer, she will do everything it takes to get one, no matter how much the other person protests. and when it comes to matters that involve momo, sana never gives up. so she stands up straight and faces her friend, shoulders pulled tight and staring her head on, no matter how much she wants to look away. 

sana just watches her for a moment, silent and calculating, then she’s moving forward and bringing momo into her arms, chin hooked over her shoulder and squeezing her tight. “why are you doing this to yourself? i can’t let you do this again.”

and momo cracks at that. because, she knows she was selfish when chungha first left. she neglected everything she needed to do, stopped talking, stopped hanging with everyone. she just focused on chungha and why she left and if she could get her to come back. and it was sana who had to be the one to snap her out of it, knock some sense into her and get her back in gear. it was sana who had to deal with the nights where momo refused to sleep because she was sure chungha would show up again. it was sana who helped momo be herself again.

yet, here she is, willingly falling back into the deep end without a moment of hesitation. she knows it’s bad, knows it might be too soon, but she can’t help it. she’s already too deep in again. she wraps her arms around sana in return, presses her face to her neck, “you can’t stop me this time, i’m sorry.”
 

chungha’s been acting different lately, momo notices. the girl doesn’t sit beside her anymore after practice when they all go out to eat. she doesn’t offer her shoulder to momo in the van when she can see the girl is obviously tired. she doesn’t run into their room on days momo stays home, smile on her face, and explain a new move she learned that day. she still crawls into momo’s bed at night, but now it’s without a word and she doesn’t hold momo anymore. she doesn’t acknowledge momo much anymore, and momo doesn’t know why.

when she finally corners chungha after a practice one day, waving everyone else off as they offer to wait, momo squeezes chungha’s shoulder once the door closes, concern tugging her face into a frown. she hands chungha the water bottle in her hand, watches the girl as she avoids eye contact while she drinks, then squeezes her shoulder more determinedly this time. “chung?”

its only then that chungha finally looks at her and momo swears it’s like nothing she’s seen on chungha’s face before. she looks depleted, like her entire world has just stopped and will never start again, no matter how much she tries. she looks like she’s given up completely, and it worries momo because chungha is always the one fighting the hardest, doing the most to get things done. but now, it looks like all the fight has just been out of her and what’s left is someone momo doesn’t recognize.

“it’s over, momo.”

momo watches as she shrugs her hand off, grabs her bag and leaves the practice room, the door slamming behind her. she doesn’t know what’s over, but she knows she won’t like it.  

she sleeps alone that night.
 

momo stares at the ceiling now. after sana had found her in the kitchen, they’d stayed there for just about twenty minutes before nayeon sauntered in, yelling about how they needed to get started on cooking. she had seen the display before her and said nothing, just watched as the two broke away, sana whispering something to momo before they parted ways, sana asking nayeon what they were making and momo going to hide away in her room.

she’s been here ever since, just staring at the ceiling and wondering how she’s ended up here. she figures it’s a culmination of multiple things: her memories, her inability to let go, her heart, and her mind. she wants to forget, but she can’t when chungha makes up such a big part of her past now. and she knows it’s bad, knows it puts a strain on everyone around her because they don’t know if they should bring the girl up when they’re mentioning something somi told them, knows that they all tread on thin ice because of her and momo hates it.

she hates that she’s like this, that she never got her closure. she hates that, even though it was in the past, that she still holds on so tight. but she mainly hates the fact that she doesn’t hate it at all. she likes the idea of chungha being back in her life, no matter what way it is. and she wants to be selfish and strong, for once in her life, after being made out to be weak.
 

momo watches from her bed as chungha moves around the room, picking up worn clothes from the floor and tossing them into a pile with their other dirty clothes. they say nothing to each other, momo just watching and chungha just cleaning, but it’s somehow different than their usual silence. ever since momo cornered chungha in the practice room two weeks back, the girl has made it her sole mission to not be alone with momo again, even going so far as to offer to help clean the practice room after hours (and none of them ever wanted to do that).

“what did you mean by ‘it’s over’?” she questions finally, watches how chungha freezes for a moment before she stuffs the clothes into the hamper. she’s taking her time, stalling, momo can tell. but that’s fine, she has all the time in the world to wait. it’s something thats been bothering her since it was said, and if it takes another month for her question to be answered, then so be it, she’ll wait a month.

instead of a month, it takes another few silent moments before chungha’s turning to face momo, and for once, her face is unreadable to her. it’s almost like the look she had in the practice room, yet this one is resigned, as if accepting whatever fate she was handed, and is just going where the wind takes her now. it makes momo tense, worried and cautious.

“all of it, momo. this, me,” she pauses and wets her lips, looks over momo’s face briefly before focusing on the clothes in her hands, then quietly, “us.”
 

momo reaches out and grabs her phone from the bedside table, fingers mechanically going through the motions of unlocking the device and typing in the number she knows by heart still, even to this day.

she presses it to her ear, listens as it rings and rings and rings, and is about to hang up when it clicks and there’s silence for a few seconds before a voice speaks, surprise lacing the tone. “momo?”

“i know this is random,” she says in lieu of a proper greeting, eyes squeezing shut as she forces herself to push on. “but could you meet me later on? like around two at han river?” it’s quiet for a moment and momo can hear the noise in the background (someone yelling about no climbing over the sofa when someone is trying to sleep there), then, “sure, two sounds good.”

momo nods even though they can’t see and clears . “see you then, chungha.”
 

“us?” she repeats, voice quiet and unsure, watches as chungha just continues to collect clothes as if she hadn’t just dropped a bomb onto momo’s entire existence. “what do you mean by that?”

momo isn’t stupid, she knows what all this means. but she wants to hear chungha say it, wants her to admit that she’s the one running away without explanation. because to momo, they were good, great even, and then all of a sudden, this happens. but she knows she won’t get an explanation willingly.

momo reaches for chungha as the girl moves, grabs at her wrist desperately, doesn’t relent even as chungha tries to twist away. she tries to catch her eyes, tries to see something, anything, that will tell her what she wants to know, but nothing. it’s like chungha’s cut herself off from everything – from the situation, from the outcome, from momo.

chungha twists again, this time harder, this time with purpose, and momo finally lets go.

momo wants to scream, to beg, to cry. but she won’t, she can’t, she refuses to be broken down even more right now. she can’t be the weak one. they’ve both made decisions, and chungha made one for them both now, despite momo trying so hard to hold on.

momo lets go of that, too.

two days later, chungha is gone.
 

momo shakes sana at one forty-five, ignores the sleepy and dazed look the girl gives her and whispers about her departure. sana barely questions it, just yawns and tells momo to be safe because sana just knows but doesn't force her to stay, and then turns over again once momo leaves the room.

her walk to han river is a quiet one and it gives her proper time to think. think about where this conversation can go and what could happen from there. think about all the things that have led to this moment and what this moment itself could lead to.

but her biggest thought is that chungha can’t run this time.