Nayeon couldn’t bring herself to be around Dahyun anymore.

It wasn’t that she hated Dahyun, as she had explained several times to a worried Jihyo and an irritated Jeongyeon. Quite the opposite, actually. She liked Dahyun differently than how the others liked her. She had real, true feelings for Dahyun, feelings that made her want to hold the younger girl in a tight hug for the rest of her life, feelings that caused her eyes to constantly trail down to Dahyun’s lips, just...feelings. And they scared her.

What is Love? was a song they sang, but Nayeon never anticipated she’d be asking herself that very question. What were her feelings? Jeongyeon, brushing Nayeon’s anxiety off, labelled it as love. “Pure and simple, it’s just that,” she snapped, after Nayeon had rambled on about it for the tenth time one day. “You love her. Accept it already.”

But how could Nayeon love Dahyun? They barely spent any time together anymore because of schedules, and they hadn’t talked properly for weeks. The most they had were short texts, stolen glances, exchanged smiles. How did that warrant love? Love was an inappropriate word.

Jihyo seemed to be on the fence. Nayeon went to her after schedules, standing outside the bathroom as Jihyo showered. “Jeongyeon thinks it’s love, but there’s no way, right?” she laughed nervously. “I mean, we don’t even talk anymore, unless it’s her asking me if we’ve run out of food. I can’t...it’s not.”

Jihyo stepped out of the bathroom, steam billowing out after her, her hair wrapped tightly in a towel and her baggy t-shirt flowing over her shorts. “You have a point,” she murmured. “You don’t even talk in the group chat. Then again, no one talks to you in the group chat anymore.” She smiled briefly before frowning. “But Nayeon, love doesn’t require you to be good friends with that person. It doesn’t mean you should be talking to them all the time. You don’t need to know everything about them. You can fall in love just by seeing someone.”

“Something like love at first sight?” Nayeon said, crossing her arms. “Is that it?”

Jihyo shook her head. “Not exactly. I mean, you could see that person every day, be around them for a while regularly, only talk to them once or twice every now and then. You can still love them. That’s probably what’s going on.”

Love. That was the label for her feelings? It couldn’t be. Nayeon couldn’t accept that. Her feelings were strong, but they couldn’t be love, and even if they were, it would make everything more complicated. They were in the same girl group, they couldn’t afford to love in the wrong way. Then what was this she felt? Why did her heart clench when she saw Dahyun tightly hug Sana or give her a kiss on her forehead? She would always stare into space, lost in a trance, imagining that it was her who Dahyun was hugging and it was her whose forehead was kissed by Dahyun’s lips. Maybe it was just friendly jealousy, but it was more than that.

It was not love. Jeongyeon said it was. Jihyo said it was possible. It could not be love. Absolutely not.

Whatever it was, Nayeon wanted it to go away. She wanted to stop the smile that quickly formed on her face when she heard Dahyun’s contagious laugh, and she wanted to stop gazing dreamily at Dahyun. She found herself wishing for the most impossible of things late at night, sprawled on her bed with Mina curled up beside her, and would dream that she was in Dahyun’s room – that it was just the two of them together, sleeping peacefully. She knew Jihyo and Jeongyeon noticed the sudden smiles Nayeon would give Dahyun, the compliments she would offer and be warmly pleased when Dahyun gave her a genuine one, too. (She didn’t know Jeongyeon would simply sigh and scowl, and she didn’t know Jihyo would be fighting tears as she looked at Jeongyeon.)

Not to mention the dinners Nayeon would cook. She didn’t know how to at all, but in the middle of their breaks, Mina would take her and Jihyo to lessons. All three of them became good cooks, Nayeon especially. And she took the opportunity to cook Dahyun’s favorite meals, bursting with happiness when Dahyun would be obviously delighted. She paid no mind to Jeongyeon’s moodiness; the younger would either pick at her food or inhale it, both with an angry look on her face.

It was not love. It was just a case of distracting strong feelings. They were chipping away at her performance, and they had to go. Nayeon couldn’t bring herself to be around Dahyun, because of how hard her heart would pound, because of the guilt that overwhelmed her, and because she couldn’t be. She just couldn’t.

Thus began the months of detachment.

February passed, followed by March, April, May. Nayeon bought Dahyun a gift – a small pillow she knew Dahyun had been wanting for a while – but when she saw Sana had bought the same thing, her gift went into the trash. “I’ll just cook her something or whatever,” Nayeon said casually to Chaeyoung and Tzuyu when they asked her what she got. She found their dedication and excitement sweet. She wished she was able to feel the same way.

June, July, August. Summer passed, feeling like a few seconds rather than a few months. Who was Dahyun to Nayeon anymore? Had she been successful in her attempt to distance herself? Questions haunted her on late Saturday nights, hours that reminded her of the days when she’d dream of being beside Dahyun instead of Mina. She never had those dreams anymore; they had been replaced by wisps of longing so faint she always thought she imagined them. Maybe she was successful. But moments during practice and rehearsals made her think otherwise, her eyes lingering on Dahyun’s hand around Sana’s waist.

“You’re not cooking my favorite dinners anymore?” An August evening brought about this question, a simple, genuine statement from Dahyun, standing in the doorway of Nayeon’s room. Nayeon whipped around, her scattered clothes on her bed. They had returned from Japan earlier that week (Nayeon was more occupied with doting over Tzuyu than worrying about Dahyun the whole time) and she had never gotten time to unpack. “What?”

“How you used to make my favorite foods every single day,” Dahyun said, her sweet smile stirring familiar memories and feelings within Nayeon. She quickly squashed them. “Oh. I, um. I haven’t had time to cook, you know, what with our schedules being so full lately.”

“Yeah, I guess so.” Dahyun shrugged, and turned, that sweet smile still on her face, though Nayeon swore it held traces of sadness. “We have been pretty busy since January…though didn’t you make Jihyo’s favorite meal for her birthday? And Mina’s, and Chaeyoung’s, and Tzuyu’s?”

It felt like thorns had embedded themselves all over Nayeon. “I, um…! Theirs weren’t too complicated!” she stammered, only to break off as Dahyun laughed. “I’m just teasing you. It’s okay, I get it. I’ll let you unpack.” She left. Once upon a time, Nayeon would’ve begged her to stay. She went straight to unpacking, shaking out the thorns like they had merely been feathers and nothing more.

Maybe they had just been feathers.

September rolled around, and with September came Nayeon’s birthday. Adopting Sana’s habit of asking for kisses, Nayeon did the same, shouting at her members as soon as she woke up. Obediently, they all complied. Dahyun’s turn came faster than Nayeon expected. She gave Nayeon a forehead kiss, her lips pressed to Nayeon’s forehead for a few more seconds than usual, before pulling away and whispering, “Happy birthday, Nayeon.” It was sweet. Dahyun was sweet, sweeter than Nayeon remembered her to be. But then Chaeyoung pounced on her, and she had more things to focus on.

October, November, December, and January. A new year. Nayeon posed for the camera, making sure Jihyo took pictures of her good enough to post to the group’s Instagram. “Hey, I don’t want any blurry pictures!” she yelled, glaring teasingly at Jeongyeon and Momo, who had attempted to sabotage the photoshoot. “Wait, I have a better idea. Yoo Jeongyeon, get over here.”

“Not me?” Momo pouted. Nayeon scoffed, rolling her eyes. “I don’t like you, sorry.” She stuck her tongue out in response to Momo’s storming away as Jeongyeon reluctantly marched over, though both of them started laughing only seconds later. Jihyo huffed, lowering her phone. “Nayeon, if you’re going to fool around like that, I’m quitting!”

“Alright, alright, I’m sorry, leader,” Nayeon mock snuffled, bringing Jeongyeon closer to her with an arm. She leaned close to Jeongyeon, making her voice sultry and seductive. “Come here, babe.”

“Gross!” Jeongyeon screamed, wriggling out of Nayeon’s grasp. Jihyo sighed, causing both to immediately pose and smile. “Sometimes it really seems like you two are such kids,” she muttered, before grinning widely. “Jeongyeon looks so pretty, though! Nayeon, get out of the frame, Jeongyeon’s going to have a photoshoot.”

Still posing, Nayeon frowned. The flash went off and she screeched, running towards Jihyo. “I wasn’t ready!” Jeongyeon cackled, running towards Jihyo as well, who ran away from them. All three had looks of pure happiness on their faces.

Sitting not too far away, Dahyun tipped her head, leaning back into Sana’s embrace. She smiled, watching the three older girls have fun, particularly the oldest. “Sana,” she said, lacing her fingers with the other girl’s, “Do you know why Nayeon doesn’t like me anymore?”

Sana shifted, humming thoughtfully. “Why she doesn’t like you? It’s a little strange, honestly. You guys don’t talk at all anymore, nor does she even look at you. Not at home, not on schedules. No texts. I don’t know why. It’s…it’s unlike her.”

“Oh,” Dahyun murmured, staring down at her hand entwined in Sana’s, before looking back up at Nayeon, who had gotten ahold of the camera. Seeing her caused a warm yet cold sensation to spread through Dahyun’s body, touching her lips. Her warm, sad smile was small. “And here I always thought she liked me back.” She paused, her smile widening. “Loved me back.”

end