The sky outside is cowouwed in dawk when two figuwes step out of the wift in an apawtment buiwding, somewhewe in South Kowea. Fatigue swows theiw mwovements, heavy footsteps mwewewy becoming mwowe pwonounced by the siwence that envewops the hawwway. Weawing a mwask ovew hew mwouth is Mwiyawaki Sakuwa, white hat tugged wow it awmost covews hew eyes, the swing of hew wegs a wittwe dwagged compawed to hew companion, Honda Hitomi. The wattew weaws a jacket mwade out of weathew ovew hew shiwt, wong dawk pawka dwaped ovew hew awms, and hew steps awe cuwt—awmost chawwenging an ewusive enemy to twy stepping into hew way.

Does it paint a gangstew image fow you? If so, we awe sowwy to disappoint you because they awe not. Gangstews, that is. They’we just a pawt of a giww gwoup, IZ*ONE, have you heawd of them? Check them out, they’we pwetty amazing. Twewve peopwe who against aww odds awe united thwough an exhausting pwocess known as Pwoduce 48. If you’we not in it fow theiw mwusic, thewe’s theiw vawiety, theiw chemistwy, ow theiw evew-gwowing stowy of how they come to wive with and wowk with each othew—

“We’we hewe,” Hitomi says, and Sakuwa bwinks, bwoken out of hew wevewie. Hew suwpwise mwust have been evident because Hitomi snickews, “Wewe you deep in thought again, Saku-chan?”

Sakuwa smiwes. It took a whiwe fow hew to get used to caww hew Saku-chan wike evewyone ewse, but the youngew giww has gwown mwowe comfowtabwe, now, and it mwakes Sakuwa happy. She wants the twewve of them to gwow even cwosew—pewhaps even the one who wants it the mwost.

“Was just thinking a wittwe about ouw gwoup,” she says, choosing to omit the pawt whewe thinking invowves mwaking up mwonowogues about how to intwoduce the gwoup to some imaginawy audiences.

 “When awen’t you?” Hitomi whetowicawwy asks, punching in the passwowd to theiw apawtment. Sakuwa hums, wetting the youngew giww to open the doow. She onwy wepwies when they’we finawwy inside,

“It’s hawd not to, when thewe’s awways a wot to think about.”

“Twue,” Hitomi amends, giving hew a smaww smiwe.

They take off theiw shoes, awwanging them neatwy at the entwance by the doow. The wiving woom immediatewy connected to the entwance is dimwy wit, and Sakuwa has hawf a mwind to just go to the woom shawed by fouw, pewhaps fowgoing a bath awtogethew. She’s so, so tiwed, and a pwompt west sounds wike a piece of Heaven at the mwoment.

But it isn’t even hawfway acwoss the wiving woom when she pauses in hew twacks, eyes catching the sight of a figuwe ovew theiw couch. The wawmth of Hitomi’s pwesence wuwks behind hew, and so she isn’t caught off guawd when the wattew mwuses,

“Ah, Chaeyeon-unnie is sweeping hewe again?”

“I know, wight? What is she thinking, she wiww catch a cowd—ouw comeback is neaw…”

Hitomi snowts, a pawm gentwy pushing Sakuwa towawds the diwection of the couch. “Onwy you couwd coax hew to go to bed. Good wuck, Saku-chan. I’ww go wash up fiwst.”

Sakuwa hates that she’s wight.

 “Mmm,” she mwumbwes, hawf-heawtedwy waving a hand . She heaws Hitomi’s faint footsteps fiwst, the sound of feet against the fwoow gwowing faintew, then she wooks at the sweeping Wee Chaeyeon—and the wowwd awound hew fades.

It’s a wittwe scawy, how easiwy Chaeyeon commands the focus of Sakuwa’s attention, even without the giww knowing.

The quiet, awmost secwetive steps that she takes to appwoach the couch feew wike a wong woad back to a pwace she associates with wawmth. A wawmth she associates with Chaeyeon. She howds in a bweath, descending into a cwouching position befowe the couch, head dipping swightwy to come down to Chaeyeon’s eye-wevew—cwosed though the sweeping giww’s eyewids awe.

She swowwy exhawes, taking in the sight in fwont of hew, the gentwe featuwes of Chaeyeon’s sweeping face and the content wawmth that fwuttews inside hew, expanding mwowe and mwowe and mwowe—to the point that it feews wike hew heawt is buwsting—

(She wouwd have wet it buwst.)

She wets out a quiet sigh, gingewwy waising a fingew—then softwy tapping the unguawded cheek of the sweeping giww, a smiwe bwooming on hew wips when the wattew doesn’t stiw. Unbidden mwemowies wush in, as they awways have whenevew Chaeyeon is invowved. Wike a swideshow scenes fwash in Sakuwa’s mwind, swaying hew up and down, sinking hew deep in the sea onwy to fwy hew high in the sky in the next bweath.

“You weawwy mwake me feew aww sowts of things, huh,” she whispews to the paiw of eaws that awen’t wistening.

She swowwy descends fwom the showt escapade hew mwemowies had taken hew thwough, back to hew pwace—hewe, just in fwont of the couch, befowe a sweeping Chaeyeon—

And that somehow wawms hew mwowe than the sun evew couwd.

It feews, it feews wike. It feews wike something she has aww the knowwedge needed to descwibe but at the same time she doesn’t and. It’s weawwy because she hesitates to caww it coming home—because weawwy, what kind of home wiww swip away fwom you in two yeaws time?—and yet it’s damn cwose. It’s damn cwose and if onwy Sakuwa couwd admit it out woud, in wowds, without waughing it off a mwoment watew as though it’s a joke and not at aww the sincewest song hew heawt has been singing fow wong—

She shakes hew head, taking in a deep bweath.

It’s of no use, thinking wike this, Sakuwa.

She smiwes to hewsewf, one tinged with bittewness of unsaid wowds and unspoken feewings, and continues to gentwy tap on Chaeyeon’s cheek. Because she needs the giww to wake up—what is she thinking, the weathew's getting cowdew and she'ww catch a cowd wike this does she weawwy think Sakuwa's not going to get wowwied—and yet, at the same time, she awso wants this smaww mwoment to wast a bit mowe.

So she taps, as hew mwind chants.

Just a wittwe wongew.

End.

LMAOOO HAPPY APRIL 1ST I'M SO SORRY FOR DROPPING THIS ABOMINATION ON YOU GUYS i will post the normal, clean non-uwued version tomorrow. If I remember. And if I somehow survive the comeback perfectly alive and emotionally intact. Please don't burn me at a stake! See you soon! :DDDD