Their new song is fast-paced, all synths, guitars, and bass, with a throbbing beat underpinning a catchy tune. The dance is complex and tiring; it has to be, for a comeback that's supposed to gloss over five years of inactivity for Red Velvet.

Not that any of the members have been idle.

While Seulgi was consolidating a career outside of Korea, ironically, Wendy built a diverse discography of smooth ballads, rousing retro tracks and more mellow r&b numbers, solidifying her position as one of Korea's most promising young vocalists. In the process, Yeri finally got to stretch her creative muscles: she co-wrote and produced some of the tracks on Wendy's albums, even adding her vocals to some b-sides. Those were the ones Seulgi put in her on-the-move playlists, letting their voices lull her into naps between events.

Yeri also scored her own late night radio show, a fitting outlet for an insomniac with too many thoughts and her fingertip on the pulse of the youth. Whenever Seulgi could steal a few moments of respite, she’d watch Yeri interview industry seniors and juniors, with wit and warmth in equal measure. There was a charm and ease to her banter that made Seulgi swell with pride and nostalgia every time she tuned in. Sometimes she'd leave comments on the official channel's account, much to the delight of their fans, and Yeri would respond with a zinger, always aiming to tease.

Joy’s acting career took off in an unprecedented way. Once she got cast as the lead of a female-driven crime drama, the accolades and opportunities kept coming. Although Seulgi couldn't afford the luxury of watching dramas, with her busy schedule, she watched supercuts of Joy's best scenes, always sending enthusiastic gibberish and ramblings through texts that Joy would respond to with cheeky selfies.

Irene, the one most visibly unmoored by Seulgi’s decision to pursue an international career (and the group’s subsequent ‘break’), seemed reluctant to shed the mantle of Red Velvet’s leader. Sure, there was a sharp uptick in her endorsements, MC spots, and even the occasional guest spot in a drama or a summer flick. But the articles about her seeming lack of drive had been numerous, ruthless in their dissection of her supposed woodenness without her bandmates.

Seulgi’s probably kept a closer eye on the eldest than she has on the others, searching up Irene’s name every chance she got, reading the tasteless drivel that passed for journalism, despite the ache in her eyes left by late nights and longer hours.

It’s only because Irene had taken the hiatus the hardest. She’s always put the group before her personal ambitions.

Not that Seulgi has to justify herself.

If she had to justify herself, she’d reason that it’s because she’s known Irene the longest. Seulgi knew her before Irene grew into the self-assured woman the world banished to a pedestal. Seulgi can still picture the shy newbie trying to hide a strong Daegu accent as clearly as she can conjure up images of her childhood bedroom.

More than anything, Seulgi feels responsible, somehow. For all the articles, for the fact that the only interaction they’d had over the years were the few times they addressed each other directly in the Red Velvet group chat.

“Stop staring, Seulgi-ah. She’s going to snap at you again,” Wendy whispers, jolting Seulgi out of her daze. “She just needs an excuse at this point, and you better not give her one. I’m tired and I’m going to use the remaining energy in my arms to strangle you if Joohyun makes us start practice before our break ends, just because she’s angry at you.”

Okay, so maybe Seulgi has been staring. Irene refused to join the rest of them for a well-deserved break and, really, Seulgi can’t be blamed for allowing her eyes to wander.

She’d missed this: cataloguing the precision of Irene’s moves, the way her hips cut through the air with a grace Seulgi hasn’t been able to mimic even after years of trying. Irene’s dancing with vigour, like she’s warming up, expression sharp despite her laboured breathing.

Something had slowly unfurled in Seulgi's chest as she watched.

(She calls it admiration, but it feels too intimate for that name.)

She gets Wendy’s hint though, and looks away.

Her ears burn, and she feels like chucking her water bottle at Wendy, so she does.

Wendy grins, smug and annoying, stern attitude disappearing as she catches the bottle easily. “Thanks for the drink, friend.”

“Hey, pass us a bottle too. I think I’m dying,” Joy wheezes from across the room.

Yeri snickers, distracted from watching (what Seulgi assumes to be) conspiracy videos on her phone. “I knew I’d regret being put into a group with senior citizens.”

Joy throws a balled up sock at Yeri’s face, voice raised to a screech, “You’re the one who asked for a break first!”

“I wasn't the one huffing and puffing like a grandma on run from the old age home!”

“Look at what you’ve started,” Wendy accuses Seulgi, getting her airpods out while her eyes stay on the playlist she's curating. “Fix it,” she whispers while she puts her earphones in, her eyes darting once towards Irene, whose steps have grown more energetic.

Or irritated.

Joy and Yeri have committed themselves to the cause of raising a ruckus, decidedly behaving nothing like people in their twenties. They’re throwing various things (a towel, someone’s journal, a handheld fan) at each other, whooping whenever an object finds its intended target.

“Yah, stop it, you guys,” Seulgi yells. “It’s a break, use it. I don't wanna hear complaints when we start again.”

Unsurprisingly, they ignore her.

Yeri goes as far as defending herself by diverting a projectile to the general area where Seulgi’s seated.

Seulgi ducks before a half-eaten apple hits her squarely in the face.

Normally, Seulgi’s great at tamping down any signs of emergent anger, but she's been on edge. Because of the warning in Wendy's voice. Because of the furtive glances Irene keeps throwing her way, the not-so-subtle ones that Seulgi's pretending to not notice.

Just being around Irene these days is enough for an incoherent fear to take shape in her, a wholly unfamiliar feeling that leaves Seulgi nettled.

So:

Seulgi snaps, the nervous energy bubbling up in her till she's tossing the apple back at the offensive party without a second thought.

Her aim hasn't improved much over time.

The makeshift missile sails past Irene's left ear, missing it by half-a-foot and bouncing harmlessly off the wall of mirrors opposite them.

Irene jumps the other half foot in the opposite direction, and promptly loses her balance when her feet tangle together. She goes down like a sack of potatoes.

Or what Seulgi imagines a sack of potatoes would look like if it had the disposition of a skittish deer and got spooked in the middle of angrily practicing girl group choreography.

She doesn't have the energy to come up with better metaphors, not with her heart lodged firmly in her windpipe, as she rushes to her feet.

The fall isn’t as bad as Seulgi’s near heart-attack makes it seem. Irene’s already sitting up and rubbing her knees, wincing.

“I’m so sorry! I was just trying to get them to shut up.”

Seulgi curses inwardly, approaching Irene as she would a wounded lioness, balanced on the balls of her feet, ready to turn tail and run at the first sign of danger.

She tries again: “Joohyun, are you hurt? You know how terrible my aim is…I’m very sorry.”

She appends a nervous laugh, hoping against reason that Irene will just accept her apology.

There’s a quiet in the room.

“Well, it worked,” Wendy pipes up from her corner, a picture of concern and amusement.

She's right.

Yeri and Joy have stopped to watch the unfolding disaster with rapt attention, with matching smirks to boot.

“Let's hope we don't have to do ISAC this comeback,” Yeri says.

“We'll keep Seulgi away from the pointy things. She might skewer a fan accidentally,” Joy adds.

Seulgi resists the urge to find another object to throw at them, and settles with running the heel of her palm over her face in exasperation.

Irene's quietly nursing a reddening spot on her right thigh. They're no strangers to bruises, given their profession, but Seulgi’s chest still seizes at the sight .

“Well, aren't you going to help me up?”

“Oh! Yes..” Seulgi ignores the background laughter to extend a hand to Irene, who doesn't comment on how sweaty her palms are and hoists herself to her feet. “I'm sorry you got hurt because of me. I’ll go get an ice pack...”

Irene’s used her grip on Seulgi's hand to tug herself into Seulgi's space, impassive and intimidating despite having to look up to make up for their slight height difference.

Seulgi’s brain goes blank, and she feels herself visibly shrink under Irene’s gaze. The unsettling fear is back, clouding her head.

Of course, she starts talking to cut through the fog:

“I promise, I’ll do your chores for a week! And--and I know your back’s been acting up. I used to have physio after some of my concerts in the US, I’ve picked up some things. I’ll--I’ll give you a massage after our practices. Only if you want one, of course. I wouldn’t dare presume--haha. Of course. Pleasedontkillme.”

It’s only when she’s run out of things to say that she notices that Irene’s not shaking with anger, but with suppressed laughter.

The background giggling has raised to a crescendo, even Wendy joining in as Yeri and Joy howl with laughter, instead of respectfully shouldering the blame along with her.

It’s almost like Seulgi’s traveled back through time. Her bandmates are laughing at her, at her rambling, and automatically, Seulgi’s smiling and laughing back, the pressure in her chest dissolving like wet cotton candy.

“Okay, okay. You got me, very funny.”

“No, please carry on. I was quite enjoying your growing list of bribes,” Irene replies, mouth crooked and teasing.

Seulgi tries not to focus on the shape of it. She settles her gaze on the non-threatening view of a chair kicked back against one corner of the practice room.

“Well, the offers still stand. Your laundry for a week, post-practice massages, all done, no problem. That bruise looks like it’s gonna hurt.”

“We’ve both been through worse,” Irene says, tone light. It's clear that she's not talking about the bruise at all.

“Oh,” Seulgi says. She brings her eyes back to meet Irene's, the atmosphere suddenly serious. “Yes. You're right. And we survived, didn't we?”

“We survived,” Irene agrees, searching Seulgi's face for something. Seulgi almost squirms under the scrutiny. “I’d still like that ice pack though. And a Pocari Sweat too, on your way back.”

“Aye, captain.”

Seulgi leaves the room, feeling disoriented like she's the one who had tumbled to the floor instead of Irene.

It's nearly 3 am by the time they finish practice, grab a late dinner, and retire to their bedrooms in the apartment they've all been forced to share for the duration of their first post-hiatus comeback and all the preparations leading up to it.

The management had said something about the importance of giving off the impression of a tight friendship to their fans and the general public. They didn't elaborate on why it had to come in the form of forced cohabitation, after all the hoops the girls had been made to jump through to earn the freedom to their private spaces. Their arguments didn't matter in the end. The Powers That Be had refused to entertain any objections.

(Seulgi had to cancel her newly-signed lease, and move all her stuff all over again.)

Seulgi idly texts a few of her American friends, who have just begun their day, while she waits for Wendy to finish her shower. They're rooming together again, and the familiarity is comforting.

“I’m done washing up, but you should wait a bit for the water to heat up properly,” Wendy says in lieu of a greeting, exiting the en-suite. The towel around her neck is wet in patches from the water steadily dripping from her hair.

Seulgi hums, and returns to scrolling through her chats, shooting off quick replies to the ones that can't be ignored or left for another time.

Wendy takes a seat on the bed across from Seulgi, rubbing her hair half-heartedly with the towel.

“Don't you miss them?”

“Them? You mean the people I knew there?”

“Yeah, friends, coworkers. That funny boy with the long nose. What was his name? Kyle? And your new best friend, Leila.”

Seulgi laughs. “I wouldn't call them… friends. More like, friendly connections. Anyway, they keep me updated. Trust me, it was a million times worse when I moved there. I can deal with not seeing Leila...or Kyle.” She waves her hand dismissively.

Wendy scoffs, sounding unconvinced. “If you missed us that much, you would have showed your face at least once. Grabbed a quick coffee with me or sushi with Yerim when you were here visiting your parents.”

Seulgi lets her phone drop to her pillow and sits up. She settles her back against the wall next to her bed. She weighs the mix of carefully hidden distress and betrayal on Wendy's face before she formulates a reply.

“I didn't wanna meet you guys because it'd be harder to go back. To return to an unfamiliar country, and do the whole 'being-famous' thing alone, to ignore the fact that I had the easy option of staying here and carrying on with you guys.”

“That sounds like an excuse, Seulgi.”

Seulgi shrugs. “It is one. I am a coward, sometimes.”

Wendy tuts angrily. “Stop doing that.”

Seulgi plays with the sheets next to her hand, fingers rumpling the embroidered sunflowers, bright and yellow, smoothing them over and rumpling them again in a restless cycle.

“At least you had the blow by blow,” Seulgi says after a brief silence. “I’m sorry for not being here, physically. But I kept you updated, as much as I could.”

“Yeah, me and Sooyoung and Yerim.”

Seulgi’s already defending herself before she can process the hidden accusation. “Joohyun never texted me either. She didn't call, not even once.”

“Like you weren't constantly complaining on the group chat about being tired and whining about jet lag and about not even having time to eat. Not even a hot dog, Wannie, how will I survive!”

Seulgi watches her hand fist in the sheets with detached curiosity, wondering if she followed the long line of her arm to its source, if it might end at a foreign shoulder.

“That didn't stop the three of you from bugging me on Snapchat and Instagram and FaceTime.” Seulgi doesn't bother to keep the bitterness out of her voice, eyes still trained on the white of her knuckles standing out against the tan of the surrounding skin.

“You know how Joohyun is. She was upset when you left, and it only got worse because you left it that way.” A pause, then a noise as Wendy discards her towel on the carpeted floor. “She expected better from you.”

The mattress dips as Wendy's knees come into view next to Seulgi's clenched hand, her pale fingers coming to rest lightly on Seulgi’s wrist. Her touch is like crushed ice wrapped in a cotton t-shirt on a minor burn.

“Did you two talk about it yet?” Wendy asks, like one might ask about the deteriorating health of a dying relative.

“I don't wanna talk about it,” Seulgi says petulantly, turning her face into the open warmth of Wendy's shoulder. Her cheeks are wet and her tears mingle freely with the cool water from Wendy's still-wet hair. The smell of jasmine shampoo loosens the knot in Seulgi's chest slightly.

Wendy runs a hand through the tangle of Seulgi’s hair till her gentle sobs subside.

When Seulgi has more or less recovered, she sits back, sniffling and feeling embarrassed. She clears .

“Sorry about your shirt.”

“Glad you got it out of your system,” Wendy says kindly, smiling at her. “Besides, it’s a bit stuffy from the heating. Think I’ll sleep better without the shirt.”

Later, when Seulgi's freshly showered and cocooned in darkness and blankets, she turns away from Wendy's bed to face the wall and calls out: “Seungwan-ah.”

Wendy grunts in response.

“Are you awake?”

“Hm, do you need another heart to heart?” Wendy's voice is thick with sleep and her vowels are a bit jumbled.

Seulgi almost feels bad for disturbing her but she knows she won't be able to summon up the same amount of courage that she has running through her veins right now, the intimacy from earlier still warming up her insides, lingering in the shadows of their shared bedroom.

“I wanted to ask you something.”

“Hm, ask away.”

“Why didn't you and Joohyun work out?”

Seulgi wonders if Wendy can hear how loudly her heart is beating across the three feet of carpeting separating their beds.

“Don't you think it's more polite to be facing me when you're asking about my love life? I can see the back of your head.”

Seulgi grumbles and turns around. “You didn't answer.” She can barely make out Wendy's face, but she can see the glimmer of her teeth as she makes a show of sticking her tongue out.

“There isn't a simple answer, Seulgi-ah.”

“Bull.” A pause, as Seulgi ponders the curiosity rushing up in her, like river-water in a reservoir about to overflow during the peak of monsoon. “It made sense, you know. When you told me about it. I kinda saw it coming.”

“You did? You never mentioned that before.”

“Please, of course I did. I know everyone loves calling me slow and dense but I'd have to be blind to miss the blatant flirting you guys tried to pass off as friendship. Or fanservice. Whatever.”

Wendy starts laughing, to Seulgi's complete bemusement.

“What? What's so funny?”

Wendy quietens down in response, a giggle or two escaping her before she says, “Sorry, continue.”

“Like I was saying, you guys gotta give me more credit. I notice things!”

“If you say so.”

Seulgi doesn't take the bait. “I was more surprised when you told me that you guys broke it off. The way you talked about Joohyun…hell, I've seen the way she doted on you, from the beginning. You’re best friends. You've always been best friends.”

“Seulgi, you're my best friend too. Are we in love? Is this your way of asking me out?”

“No! That's different,” Seulgi protests immediately, warmth rushing to her cheeks at the implication. She feels like Wendy's being difficult on purpose. Like she's laughing at a joke that Seulgi's not aware of.

Wendy hums noncommittally. “Not all best friends are built to be lovers. Joohyun and I decided we worked better as friends than girlfriends.” She laughs wryly, then adds, “Actually, it was simple, in hindsight. Our hearts weren't really in it. Besides, there was always a third party in our relationship…this constant presence. Of something else.”

It’s obvious that Wendy’s skirting around something she wants to say and Seulgi sighs in frustration.

“Something else? What do you mean?”

“I'll leave that for you to figure out. Like you said, you're not dense and you notice things. Or maybe you can ask Joohyun about it when you both stop acting like kids and actually talk to each other.”

Seulgi picks up a spare pillow and throws it at Wendy in response.

Wendy just laughs again. “Good night to you too, Seulgi. Great talk. Please refrain from asking any further questions until I've had at least five hours of sleep.”