It goes like this: between fashion events, fan meets and endless business meetings, there's an email, sitting there in her inbox innocuously. It feels like a land mine. She carefully avoids it, afraid that it'll all blow up in her face. And she knows it will, predicts it, pictures it with vivid clarity even.

 

The sender line is indicative enough of trouble. It's just a matter of whether or not Jessica wants to bring this disaster onto herself.

 

It turns out that all it takes for her resolve to waver is one late night and one too many glasses of wine.

 

And perhaps, there's a certain inevitability to the slip-up.

 

 

//

 

 

She panics. Soojung is the first to know. Between confusion and an old wariness, there is an attachment of a stack of papers, of penned lyrics and rough melodies, accompanied by a few simple, cryptic words that etch themselves into the depths of her mind—an embodiment of the author themselves.

 

these are for you. -taeyeon

 

There's no polite greetings, no ornaments of social niceties to hide behind, no warning that should have preceded this blindsiding, because really?

 

"When she asked for...I didn't know she was actually going to..." Soojung stops and starts, says her words earnestly, if a little apologetic.

 

Jessica’s phone is passed back to her from across the table. At least Soojung provided her with an explanation for how in the world Taeyeon had managed to obtain her private email.

 

"You gave it to her anyway." Jessica lifts an eyebrow questioningly, trying to sort through her own thoughts and pin down something, probably blame. It's always been easier to direct these kind of feelings outwards. On the receiving end of her scrutiny, her sister squirms. Guilty.

 

"She—she asked for your number, actually."

 

"What?"

 

Shock, or something like it, ripples through the entirety of Jessica's being. Something inside her shifts, barely registering on the seismic scale but nevertheless, Jessica is acutely aware of now dormant fault lines, her old scars.

 

"I told her, she'd have to ask you herself if she wanted it."

 

Jessica stares back, unblinking. She knows her eyes have gone wide, her jaw dropping, leaving to hang open like some comedic parody of an obscure emoji. She registers that there had been thought put into this, and that this wasn't a blunder on Taeyeon's side then. Not like it had been on hers—opening that email drunk, is what Jessica means.

 

"Soojung, I'm really busy; this is not the time for me to be…I've got—"

 

Soojung cuts her off with a knowing look.

 

"Blanc and Eclare, photoshoots, that Film Festival, business...the list never ends does it? You're moving at million miles an hour, I know—unnie, just consider it, will you?"

 

"You don't even know what this really means." Jessica rebuts accusingly. She's desperate to have something to hold on to, needs a voice of reason that will tell her that this is a bad idea, a really bad idea because the last time she'd talked to Taeyeon—

 

Jessica shuts that train of thought down before the barrage of emotions can come hurtling back. She's moved past that, packed it away into a neat box that's remained untouched at the back of her mind, gathering dust as it should.

 

"I know exactly what it is." Soojung says, voice hard-edged and laced with an irritating certainty that makes Jessica unable to resist the self-destructive curiosity that wishes to see this to the end, no matter the consequences—like a train wreck waiting to happen. She just needs to press play.

 

"Because, this is Taeyeon-unnie that we're talking about here..." Soojung adds, her voice softening slightly. Between the two of them, Soojung's still the one who's romantic at heart. "You of all people should know."

 

Jessica does. And that's what makes this so dangerous.

 

The waiter appears at the table, a polite smile set on his mouth before sliding their orders onto the table and leaving again after few quick words.

 

Jessica smiles perfunctorily through it all, and her cheeks feel stiff at the action, which is surprising considering how she's had years to perfect this act. Years of smiling through it all—the anger, the grief, the pain. Look happy so that someday she might feel it too. Jessica thinks it worked well enough.

 

Across from her, Soojung steals a muffin off the plate and brings it to .

 

Jessica frowns, pulls her lower lip between her teeth, hesitating.

 

"If this goes bad, and by that, I mean, horribly bad, I'm going to stop bringing you souvenirs from my trips."

 

She delivers it in a manner wherein it's not so much a threat, but rather, a promise.

 

Amused, Soojung just gives her a small, conspiratorial smile and her fingers curl into something resembling a fist. It occurs to her then that perhaps she’s not the only one giving Soojung bribes.

 

"Unnie, hwaiting then!" She says cheekily.

 

Jessica shoots Soojung a glare—a proper one—and brings the cup of hot coffee to her lips, letting the drink slide down the back of and settle, warm in her stomach.

 

The bittersweet taste lingers on her tongue like the residue of old unfinished conversations.

 

 

//

 

 

The industry’s best-kept secret: Taeyeon self-composes; she just rarely, if ever, shares.

 

Jessica knows this because, there was that one time where Taeyeon sung her one of her pieces. They were still trainees then, fresh-faced and full of a hopeful energy that drove them forwards despite their weary, battered bodies.

 

Jessica remembers Taeyeon being anxious, wide-eyed, and gleaming with a vulnerability only those who were perhaps a bit too self-critical and ever chasing perfection possessed.

 

The song itself had been forgettable—the rough beginnings of a skill that would be refined, honed until it bled brilliance into a lifelong career—but the performance and Taeyeon's voice, had not. Perhaps, Jessica had caught a glimpse of Taeyeon's true self that day, a reflection of who she always had been and who she was destined to become. It had awed her, inspired not only admiration, but also a hint of jealousy too, because Jessica realised that she would never be able to compare to Taeyeon in this regard.

 

"Are you trying to woo me?" Jessica had said when Taeyeon had finished, watching as the other girl's chest rose and fell in quick anticipatory breaths. "Because, if so, consider me woo-ed."

 

Taeyeon had beamed at that. Jessica's simple words igniting a flame that manifested as a smile so bright it even rivalled Tiffany's. Like a star, except not distant in the night sky, but up close and personal.

 

That was a long time ago, a snapshot in time, a memory that belonged to the two of them, like a secret shared and a secret kept—just Taeyeon and Jessica.

 

(Jessica wonders if Taeyeon finds it painful to remember these times too.)

 

 

//

 

 

Delaying the inevitable, Jessica puts off responding to that email, citing the need to have a proper block of free time, which then devolves into a conundrum of wanting to have respite from the stress of her daily life but still having to deal with this. The irony is not lost on her.

 

The phone is ringing in her hand. Soojung had no qualms about number exchanges that went the other way around.

 

In the moments after the second ring and before Taeyeon picked up, Jessica is gripped by a long, drawn-out sense of awkwardness. She always knew it would be like this, Taeyeon may reach out to her, but Jessica will always have to be the one to make the first definite move, to step back across that boundary they had drawn for themselves.

 

She hears the line connect. Jessica pushes aside the feelings of awkwardness and strategically replaces it with the cold, impassiveness that had characterised their relationship in the latter half of her time spent with her group.

 

“Tell me you were drunk when you sent me those songs, Taeyeon.” Jessica says through gritted teeth. Some part of Jessica knows Taeyeon wasn’t and her statement is deliberate in the way it comes across as cold, bordering on rude even. She tells herself it's easier to fall back into this, to start back where they left off, than to admit that her real feelings are far from that of anger or hostility.

 

“…Jessica?”

 

Taeyeon stumbles a bit, as though she’s shocked by Jessica’s voice as much as Jessica was shocked by the email, sent out of the blue. "What, no hello ?" She says when she finally recovers. The background clamour quietens down as Taeyeon seems to move into a quieter and more secluded spot.

 

"You didn't give me one before you dropped," Jessica gesticulates vaguely with her hand, before realising Taeyeon cannot see her. "—this on me."

 

Taeyeon sighs.

 

“Sooyeon, it doesn't have to mean anything.”

 

The way Taeyeon says her name—sounding soft and almost gentle—catches Jessica off guard, melts away her thin layer of poorly fabricated hostility, tempers it into something much milder—a wariness from being hurt before. She should be mad that Taeyeon’s dismantled her dissent this easily.

 

(She’s not.)

 

And how can it not mean anything? With Taeyeon there's always something more than that which is to be taken at face value. Still, she carefully puts away the stray emotions that had fallen through, locking them back into the vault of her mind, remaining silent as she does so.

 

On the other side of the line, she hears Taeyeon draws in a breath.

 

“Have you looked at…?” Taeyeon finally asks, voice shaking slightly, nervous.

 

“Why…why do this?" Jessica bites her lower lip and grips her phone tighter. "Are you trying to sabotage me? I swear to god, Kim Taeyeon.”

 

Taeyeon half laughs then, sounding a little amused.

 

“Yah, Jung Sooyeon, stop being so dramatic... have you not heard of something called a gift?"

 

“You’re late. You missed my birthday and our—my— 10 th year debut anniversary,” Jessica deadpans.

 

“I know…I-I just had extra songs.”

 

“So, use these songs for your next album or something.” Jessica says, leaning her hip against the countertop. She stares out the windows of her apartment and finds that it’s raining, the droplets always on the move, running in hurried streaks down the glass panes. “You’ll have plenty more of those.” She adds quietly.

 

“So will you.” Taeyeon points out and reasonably too. It's strange to acknowledge that their comebacks are mutually exclusive now. That they're no longer competitors fighting each other for a spot on the company's limited list of music releases. Taeyeon's success no longer equates to Jessica's failure or vice-versa. "...I'm just saying that you're the only one I want to have sing these songs."

 

“You know this means you’re giving up your rights and the profits you could get?”

 

“Have you started on your next album, Jessica?”

 

Frustrated at Taeyeon's side stepping and for letting herself be side-tracked, Jessica presses her point again, “I refuse to take your songs and profit, whatever reason you’re doing this for—” Jessica cuts herself off, a part of her latching onto the narrative that there's an apology underlying all of Taeyeon’s misguided actions, “…If this is about what I think it is...—I don’t want your songs, Taeyeon.”

 

“Make them yours then.”

 

I don’t know how to, not when they’re saturated with you, Jessica wants to say but doesn’t.

 

And by some dumb tactless blunder, Jessica instead blurts: “Help me.”

 

By the time she finds herself backpedalling, the words are already out and she cannot take them back—she knows that much is true.

 

The silence that follows is suffocating.

 

“Jessica—” Taeyeon starts, all breathy syllables and trembling uncertainty evident in her voice.

 

In that moment, Jessica with her delayed reactions and mismatched emotions, predictably panics.

 

She does the only thing that her frazzled mind can come up with—she ends the call, abruptly.

 

 

//

 

 

“Guess what? Taeyeon-unnie told me you hung up on her.”

 

Jessica half groans, turning her head away from Soojung, her gaze landing on the laptop screen propped between them. An old indie film, complete with subtitles and all, played out in its grunge aesthetic glory—Soojung's choice.

 

She knows that was going to come back and haunt her, one way or another.

 

“I didn’t know you and Taeyeon still talked.” Jessica half mumbles.

 

“We didn't. We had nothing in common to talk about.” Soojung says casually, “Well, not until recently anyway.”

 

Jessica is admittedly mortified by this admission. The thought of her baby sister and ex-leader talking again and perhaps bonding over her of all things...

 

“Yah, Soojung! I'm still your unnie, have some respect.”

 

Soojung snickers, drawing Jessica's full attention. She hadn't been paying much attention to the movie anyway.

 

“You mean like you did when you left Taeyeon with the dial tone.”

 

“I panicked!” Jessica says defensively, her fingers curling into the edge of the blanket that had been draped over both their legs. "I didn't know what to do..."

 

“I know.”

 

“Soojungie, will you let this go, already? It wasn't my finest moment, I'll admit."

 

“Probably not.” Soojung says candidly and shifts to pull her knees to her chest, legs folded and feet flat on the couch. “Taeyeon-unnie also told me you asked her to help you with your album?”

 

"What hasn't she told you?" Jessica says drily. Soojung as always, sees through her poor attempt at deflection.

 

"So, are you going to let her?"

 

"Let her what?"

 

"Help write your songs, since you're stuck and all that—don't try to deny it, unnie."

 

Soojung manages to make the situation sound as though it was the simplest thing in the world. And maybe it would be, if she was anyone but Jessica Jung.

 

(Honestly, Jessica wouldn't be surprised if Dispatch laughs at her if she were to call them up to tell them that yes, she's got a new album in the works and that she's working with Taeyeon-ssi.)

 

So, Jessica doesn't say anything back, neither confirming nor refuting the claim. The silence still gives her away and Soojung's countenance softens.

 

"You should call her back, unnie."

 

"Maybe." Jessica murmurs, picks a spot on the wall to stare at. When it comes to Kim Taeyeon, anything other than an outright no, has always been a yes in disguise.

 

She will say her fair share of 'No's and this will not be one of them.

 

It's no surprise that Soojung knows this too.

 

 

//

 

 

This time Jessica doesn't call. Instead, she texts: Let's meet. I know a place. The food’s good.

 

Okay. See you in 30mins is Taeyeon's simple reply and just like that, they’ve agreed to see each other for the first time since that disastrous September—and it’ll be over dinner too.

 

Later, she will tell Taeyeon that if they’re doing this, she wants it done properly. With lawyers and Taeyeon getting a share of the royalty. Because: It’s business.

 

(And business is what she does these days.)

 

Taeyeon will shrug at her, unfazed, pausing between bites to tell her things like: This is up to you. and  You like to complicate things too much, Sooyeon.

 

There will be food at the corner of Taeyeon’s mouth. Jessica fingers will probably be greasy from the fried chicken and they’ll laugh about it, awkwardly at first, but then genuinely too.

 

It will be way too messy of an occasion to qualify as a formal meeting for the record.

 

But they've got to start somewhere, Jessica decides—it might as well be like this.

 

 

//

 

 

With their working relationship formalised in ink, they’ve moved their meetings somewhere more appropriate too, traded the boisterous ambience of a restaurant for the quieter, more intimate one of Jessica’s personal studio.

 

The lines of melody sprawled out between them in familiar scrawl pulls at something deep inside her belly, bringing about a swell of emotion that suffocates her, renders her with difficulty breathing. Jessica’s not going to lie to herself. There’s no way she would have been able to work on the manuscripts Taeyeon sent her without Taeyeon’s help. It would not feel right, like plagiarism or reading someone's diary without their permission, robbing Taeyeon of her rightful ownership.

 

But Taeyeon is here, right by her side, steadying her nerves and nodding at her encouragingly, saying things like: “Just listen.”

 

It feels like this is how it has always been, comfortable, and that there had never been a stage in time where Jessica would look at Taeyeon and Taeyeon could not and would not even bother to look back.

 

It's like they are trainees again, with Taeyeon sharing lyric-less music with Jessica, occasionally asking for feedback, ideas constantly thrown back and forth between them.

 

Jessica finds herself sitting on the only couch she has in there, her knees tucked to her chest, and Taeyeon on the floor beside her, legs stretched out in front of her lazily. The earphones they share spanning the short distance between them.

 

Both will be thinking the same thing, but neither one of them are willing to be the one to say it:

 

This is how they first became friends.

 

At some point during the evening, Jessica will open her notebook meant for her lyrics and jot down a sentence. Probably, trace over it a few extra times too, for emphasis.

 

It will read:

 

This is how we began.

 

 

//

 

They meet at the studio whenever possible. No one has told her that song writing is a demanding task. Or that flying in and out of the country would leave her feeling this drained.

 

Quietly, Jessica lets herself watch Taeyeon at work, noting the furrow of her brow, her pursed lips and the glint in her dark eyes—all depicting the image of concentration. She hears the tapping of a pencil on the table, perhaps following a rhythm or a beat soon to be crystallised onto paper.

 

She admits that there is something intimate about writing a song together with Taeyeon. It feels like a huge responsibility, in which Jessica has to be openly vulnerable, giving a piece of herself to the music and be brave enough to let Taeyeon see this side of herself too.

 

"I've heard your other stuff, you know?" Taeyeon says suddenly, lifting her head so eyes meet Jessica's own. In the low light, just the two of them, it feels awfully like an admission. "It's nice to hear you sing—in person, I mean."

 

Jessica swallows, feeling parched.

 

“Sure.”

 

Taeyeon doesn’t look away, holds her gaze and meets her head on, sincere and resolute.

 

Jessica thinks it’s a strange way to say I miss you but then again, this is Taeyeon and they've never managed to have a straightforward conversation outside of work, always talking in riddles and half-guessed intentions, fumbled for and dropped somewhere in the dark.

 

"Your voice has always been the prettiest. I think that bothered me at one point too." Taeyeon confesses.

 

This, however, is altogether too raw, too painfully real and direct, leaving Jessica with a racing pulse, a spinning room and a load of implications she is ill equipped to deal with.

 

“You planned for this to happen,” Jessica states. Her own voice sounding deliberately sharpened under the accusation of her tone. The pencil in Taeyeon’s hand is dropped onto the table top. “Is that why you didn't pen any lyrics to these songs?”

 

Taeyeon shakes her head, then threads her free hand through the t