“have you thought about it?” sana questions suddenly, words slurred by exhaustion and back cracking as she stretches across momo’s bed.

momo doesn’t know why sana is here with her when she has a perfectly good bed of her own in her very own hotel room three doors down. but when sana had let herself into momo’s room with the spare room keycard she had given her the day they landed ( “this is only for emergencies—i better not see any of my special chocolates gone before the show!” ) and had settled in her bed with no more than an i’ll wait here while you finish getting ready for bed , momo still hadn’t questioned it because she assumed sana just wanted to talk and then she’d go.

but she’s still here now, three hours later, and momo has to deal with it.

sana waits. presses a hand to momo’s back when she doesn’t answer.

“momoring.”

the words are whined so saccharinely that momo’s teeth ache. she shrugs the hand off and shifts to turn onto her side away from sana. presses her face into her pillow. 

“don’t say it like that.”

sana hums, doesn’t question momo’s blatant coldness in her words, and wraps an arm around her waist as she presses closer to her back instead. there’s a yawn in her voice as she repeats, “so. have you thought about it?”

momo sighs. “about what, sana?”

sana chuckles and momo nudges at her hands to get away. sana just holds tighter.

(of all the things momo loves about sana, she hates (read as: double down on hates , momo notes) that she refuses to let go when momo says so.)

“about what i asked you yesterday, dummy. and the day before that. and also the day before that.”

momo sighs, and behind her she practically feels sana preen in excitement at the game she’s clearly playing in her head with the situation.

“you asked me a lot in those days,” momo comments idly, finally allowing herself to settle in sana’s embrace when it feels like the younger girl is finally allowing the silence to drag on. “what i wanted for breakfast, which sweater i was going to wear—even which way i was going to tie my shoes.”

sana’s grip tightens and momo knows what it means.

stop playing coy.

you know what i mean.

say it, momo.

“you might’ve also mentioned something about this,” momo waves her hand above their bodies lazily, “no longer being a good idea. about how it can’t be more than an, and i quote, ‘fun little hook up game we do when jihyo isn’t conveniently trying to get us to actually work at work ’, right?”

sana nods, and momo rolls her eyes good-naturedly when she mumbles an affirmative.

“so what am i supposed to say then, huh? if we don’t do this anymore, then we just don’t.”

sana sighs and momo feels it seep into her bones and settle. it’s disappointed but understanding, typical sana when she’s stuck between an unmoving momo and her rock hard determination to avoid all conflict.

“you can’t keep trying to forget other things exist, momo.” sana nuzzles her nose against momo’s jaw, blows a raspberry against her skin when momo whines. “you can’t keep using me as a warm body when your heart still feels so cold.”

momo stays silent. sana allows it for a moment, then,

“you can’t keep trying to remember parts of me to forget all of chungha.”

she says it so softly, so precise, that momo knows she isn’t mad or hurt about what momo was doing. she’s understanding, like she knows momo needed a distraction. but upset that it had to last this long, that momo refused to talk about anything anytime sana gave her a reason to.

“i love you, momoring. but we both know this isn’t what either of us wants.”

momo reaches for sana’s hand and brings it up just enough to press to her heart. she feels it beat hard and hopes sana can, too. hopes she knows that she understands, that she’ll try, that she’s sorry.

“this agreement may change, momo. but we never will.”

(of all the things momo loves about sana, she hates (read as: loves and cherishes , momo’s mind supplies) that she refuses to let go.)

—

a week and a half passes and nothing changes.

somehow, though, momo still finds herself on top of sana on the couch in the corner of the practice room. sana’s fingers curl into the hair at the base of her neck and tug just enough that momo huffs in irritation because sana won’t let her get too close.

every time momo bobs, sana weaves, and momo is tired of this game they’ve somehow started playing.

“sana,” momo starts, reaching back and grabbing at her wrist. she tugs and lets out a satisfied sigh when sana lets go with no foul play. “can you just let me do this without being a pain in the for once in your life?”

sana snorts at that as she shifts to sit up quickly, not even caring in the least when her movements cause momo to tip over onto the other side of the couch.

“i told you, momoring.” she smiles as she straightens out the collar of her shirt in the mirror across from them. momo’s lipstick stains the material from her impatient mouth, but sana seems to pay it no mind, just lazily at her thumb and wipes the mark away as best she can. “you’re not using me to forget someone else. we both know it’s not fair.”

she pauses, flicks a stray hair from her face. “to anyone, really.”

and momo sinks into the couch, because she knows sana is right. she knows she’s doing a bad thing to a good person because she doesn’t want to feel anything else. and it is unfair, but some dumb part of her tells her it’s okay. because it’s sana and sana always tells momo it’s okay, i’m here when she feels like that.

only now, sana’s usual it’s okay is replaced with an you can’t do this and her i’m here is eclipsed by i can’t do it either. and momo withers.

“i’m sorry. i know.” she sniffs, turns away when sana instinctively reaches out. “i just thought it was easier, you know? to do all this to forget.”

sana pulls momo closer and presses a kiss to the crown of her head. it soothes her instantly, reminds momo of years ago, back when they first met, and sana was the only sense of calm she had in an otherwise crazy world.

“i know i wasn’t that much of a help last time you two saw each other,” sana starts, and momo chuckles because sana’s drunken tirade still holds a very weird place in her heart. “but i do know you miss her, despite everything. and i also know you two need to talk.”

momo hums. sana tsks.

“you need to let yourself be happy, momoring.” sana shrugs, hums a random melody under her breath as they lapse into comfortable silence. she waits for momo, always waits and waits and waits, because momo can’t be pushed. just gently nudged. then, 

“i’ll try.” momo glances up at sana, smiles just shy of embarrassed at her actions, “no more dumb momo.”

it happens quicker than momo expects. and to be honest, quicker than she wants.

she isn’t surprised where it happens though, not really, because she knows that just as much as she frequents han river in the dead of night, chungha does, too. because they’re both creatures of habit, stuck in a cycle that’s familiar and comfortable—even if it doesn’t involve them together anymore.

(she ignores the jolt that hits her heart when she remembers the last time they were here together. when she tried and chungha didn’t. when she walked away and chungha let her.)

but when chungha turns, surprised at momo’s sudden appearance, and a shy, careful smile tugs at her lips in greeting, momo feels her heart jolt again in a different way.

(longing, she’ll realize later. longing and pain.)

“didn’t expect to see you here,” momo starts after minutes of silence between them. there’s a slight breeze that pushes some leaves across the ground, and momo wishes time would stop right there. that she could have this moment before chungha opens to (maybe, possibly—definitely?) throw it all away again.

“i’m always here, mo.” chungha laughs quietly, shoves her hands into the pocket of her hoodie when the breeze kicks again. her shoulder nudges into momo’s out of habit, “i’m always here hoping you are, too.”

momo swallows thickly, because chungha can’t do that. she can’t be here one day, then gone the next. she can’t pull momo close, then push her away. she can’t build momo up just to break her down again.

it’s not fair.

chungha isn’t fair.

(momo hates her for it.)

“you have a funny way of showing you’re waiting around for someone.”

momo curls her arms around herself and shrugs, staring out ahead of them because she just knows that if she looks at chungha now, she’ll break.

chungha actually chuckles at that and momo hears the slight shake in her voice. “i’m not that great with deep feelings, obviously. they freak me out, so i usually just stay away when it’s too much.” she slowly settles onto the step below them and doesn’t speak again until momo reluctantly sits beside her. “whatever messes up my heart about you freaks me out, mo. i don’t know what to do with it. so i did nothing and ran.”

chungha says it so simply, like it wasn’t the catalyst for their entire relationship becoming what it is. like her deciding to go because she couldn’t handle it absolutely didn't shatter momo. like that one event didn’t determine the way she views anything that could have any potential to be good for her romantically.

she says it like it matters, but doesn’t, all at the same time.

“so instead of talking to me about whatever this,” she waves a hand between them, “was, or could have been, you ran instead?” she scoffs, eyes rolling back to the water in front of them. “that makes no sense. it’s cowardly.”

from the corner of her eye, momo sees the corner of chungha’s mouth tilt up just so, and momo’s fingers curl into a tight fist.

“yeah, i’m a coward,” she admits, voice low, gaze distant. “so much was happening all at once and i had no control. there were so many showcases, so many people coming and going. and it felt like nothing was going my way during all of it.” she chuckles, quiet and wet, “all i really had was you.”

a hand reaches out and settles on momo’s fist, chungha’s thumb just so over her third and fourth fingers, and the familiarity of the action has momo’s tense muscles instantly relaxing.

“and then suddenly there were whispers about a new group debuting soon, and i knew you’d be a part of it, mo. everyone knew it. and i was just afraid because it meant that i wouldn’t have you anymore. the one thing that felt like it was good for me, would be gone.”

chungha shrugs. her thumb keeps .

“so i left before it could leave me.”

the stops. chungha’s hand falls away.

momo counts it as the start of a long awaited i’m sorry.

—

the sun is just starting to peak over the horizon when momo finally decides to break the silence that settled over them since chungha’s confession.

“i wouldn’t have left you behind, you know.”

chungha smiles, and it seems relieved and sad all at once.

“i know, mo.”

“i would have stayed.”

“i know.”

“i would have—“

chungha grasps her hand again, tugs until momo is curling into her side to silence her.

“i know, mo. you wouldn’t have done anything to hurt me, because you’re too good to be bad. too compassionate, too loving.”

momo closes her eyes, lets herself have this moment. she presses her face to chungha’s neck and feels the older girl practically melt against her.

“even now,” momo starts, feels herself instinctually press closer to chungha as if she could tattoo her words on her skin, “right here, right now—after all the pain and hurt and time apart, i still stayed.”

it’s then that momo finally hears chungha’s brave facade crack. because her voice breaks when she whispers, “i know.”

—

forty-five minutes later, they’re standing at the edge of the sidewalk about to head separate ways when chungha suddenly grabs momo’s wrist loosely.

she’s shaking just so, and if it weren’t for the talk they just had, momo would chalk it up to the cold breeze whipping across their faces.

but chungha always burns hot, and the way she lets her hand slid from momo’s wrist and down to her hand, fingers stalling for a moment before they slip between her own, feels like she’s touching the surface of the sun.

“i know it feels like a lot, and too much, but also not like either of those things, too.” she her lips, takes a timid step closer and seems to relax when momo doesn’t move back. “and i know i have no right to your time because i’m the one that got us here—but you still humored me anyway.”

“i’m not humoring you,” momo comments, staring down at their hands between them, “i’m trying to do this thing where i stop trying to ignore the pain and forget it. i’m trying to remember it and use it to move forward.”

chungha smiles, nods like she understands. and in a way, momo thinks she does because chungha always did.

“sounds like a solid plan, i’m all for moving forward.”

momo, too, counts this as the end of an i’m sorry.

but it also sounds a lot like i’m staying, too.

when momo gets back to their dorm, sana’s curled up in her bed, momo’s favorite plush toy cradled against her chest. she whines when momo pulls the covers back just enough to slip into the bed beside her, but settles just as quickly when momo replaces the toy with her own body, sana’s nose gently nuzzling against the crown of her head.

“how’d it go?” she asks groggily, and momo doesn’t even question how she knows what happened because sana, much like chungha, always just knows with her.

“it’s going to be better.” she closes her eyes, remembers the way chungha’s hand felt in hers. the way her smile shook with nerves at the promise of seeing each other later before she practically speed walked away from her. remembers the way she couldn’t hold back the smile that came to her own face. “i told you, no more dumb momo.”

sana hums, already slipping back into unconsciousness. “you’re always dumb,” she states, tightens her grip when momo squirms, “but as long as you’re happy, being a little dumb is warranted.”

momo smiles and lets herself slip away.

(and if momo wakes up to a text from chungha three hours later, a simple picture of the older girl pouting while in the gym and a why can’t laying down be a form of exercise??? :( underneath it, she assumes that maybe the first step forward feels like real happiness.)