Every time Namjoon speaks in english, Jungkook thinks he can understand just a bit more clearly than the last time. Every member looks on in awe, some feigning it for the sake of the camera steered uncomfortably direct in their faces to capture the utmost respect they all supposedly had for their leader. Which they all do, of course, though none can argue Jungkook is just a smidge more, how does one put it, whipped.

Every day, he improves, but admits words seem to blend together when spoken so quickly such that the conversation between Namjoon and the interviewer become blurred beyond comprehension. 

“Every language is like that, really,” Namjoon says.

“But how do you get your tongue to make those sounds, hyung?” Jungkook asks, “those don't exist in korean.”

“Because he is Namjoon,” Yoongi chuckles, grasping the much taller boy's shoulders.

It's a statement nobody could counter. Because he is the Namjoon, the man who could make impossible things happen though Namjoon himself denies there's anything supernatural about him besides his otherworldly level of clumsiness. 

“If you want, I could give you some lessons and help you speak more fluently,” Namjoon suggests, though Jungkook reacts with furrowed brows and the shake of his head.

“It's fine.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah, I'm- it's gonna be fine.” He plasters on the most sincere smile he could conjure up before hightailing it out of the studio. 

Namjoon exhales a sigh as he watches their youngest disappear through the metal doors. He's always been impeccably stubborn, looking up to Namjoon for all he's done to the point of wanting to be like him but not have to burden him to get there. After all, he believes Namjoon became who he is today on his own, so why couldn't he? Though that couldn't be further from the truth, Namjoon thinks.

-

“Love feels amazing but... it'll come at a price.”

It wasn't something uttered in the privacy of their dorm late at night or some out-of-the-blue reference. It was live, on camera, eyes unwavering and a sad smile tugging at her lips. Chaeyoung almost thinks she misheard, eyes shifting to her left at the older girl, biting into her bottom lip as the camera pans to Jisoo. The other two members don't seem to catch it but Chaeyoung does, having developed some form of hypersensitive empathy, especially towards the members.

The urge to pull Jennie into her arms in a comforting embrace is overwhelming.

She remembers it all, vividly, the transition of emotions.

She remembers the way Jennie's face lit up upon returning to their hotel room in Paris, stomach fluttering with post-date excitement, cheeks tinted with the pink aftermath of heated cuddling, and her voice gliding up and down octaves as she whispered about it to Chaeyoung at two in the morning under the covers. And then she remembers, many months after that night, meeting her in the corridor of the building, face flushed a deep pink for reasons far below the euphoria she had witnessed before. Her usual stoic persona had dissipated, and only in front of Chaeyoung did she allow herself to crumble, grasping tightly to the fabric of her sweater. The things she had heard, Chaeyoung doesn't think she could ever endure—

“No wonder Jennie has been so lazy lately, when she's more interested in dating.”
“She's a disappointment to YG and BlackPink.”
“She should be removed from the company.”
“BlackPink doesn't need an irresponsible like her.”

In truth, they had been warned, but nothing could prepare her for the impact of it.

Chaeyoung tries to smile in hopes Jennie would instinctively mirror her, but the slight quiver in her lip gives away the discomfort rising in her chest. Because instead of Jennie mirroring her, it's Chaeyoung who sees the reflection of herself in her friend - anxious, uncertain, and at odds with the world they exist in. 

In an instant, a warmth encompasses her trembling hands as Jennie's head comes to rest gingerly on her shoulder. “I hope he makes you happy,” she whispers, and a chill reverberates down her spine. 

Some say it's almost hilariously ironic, foreshadowing even, that Jennie's debut song was about a breakup. 

How does someone write about love if they're not allowed to experience it? Chaeyoung wonders. 

-

They've always wanted to have a date by the Han River at night, the moon reflecting off the surface of the cold waters and soft melodies coursing through ink black skies. 

But they know better than to live out that simple fantasy.

“I'm sorry I couldn't take you anywhere,” Jungkook sighs defeatedly, “it's just too busy out there tonight.”

“It's fine,” Chaeyoung assures.

“It's not,“ he frowns, “this is three nights in a row we've been stuck in this crowded apartment just smelling Seokjin-hyung's burnt kimchi and listening to Hoseok-hyung complain about mosquitoes, it .”

She pushes herself off his bed, interlocking their hands with a slight tug to make him look at her. “We're together, aren't we?” The way her eyes glimmer makes his stomach churn with want as his concerns melt away with the glow of her smile. “Makes it a little less, doesn't it?”

There's some semblence of certainty that solidifies in her when her hesitant smile is reflected back at her on his soft features, the pressure releasing from the pit of her stomach as he leans in to press his lips against hers. 

“I love you,” he says it in english because it's her native tongue and he thinks those words would convey his feelings for her more clearly.

She doesn't have the heart to tell him that the entirety of his existence alone tells her more than she could ever ask about, that his eyes express his admiration more clearly than any intricately written poem. 

They embrace each other tightly in the confines of his room, and she sees from over his shoulder, the reflection of them in his window overlooking the luminous city. They fit together so perfectly it's almost——disconcerting. Oddly enough, it reminds her of a farm her grandparents had owned back in Australia, and the one memorable morning she had snuck out into the barn and witnessed the slaughtering of a lamb. It didn't happen all at once. Her grandfather had the small animal on his knee with an arm wrapped around it in a comforting embrace - much like she and him are in now - as his palm grazed over its forehead, shielding its eyes. 

It didn't suspect a thing, nor saw the knife hovering towards its neck. Chaeyoung remembers how peaceful it looked - so secure and unaware.

And as the memory flickers in her mind, her gaze becomes vacant, and an unsettling heaviness emerges once again on her chest as she wonders whether there exists a knife they could not see.