Music Hyperlink: Put It Straight, by (G)I-DLE.

Standing in front of a full-length mirror with a soft-spoken stylist next to her, Yena had to admit her dress tonight was truly very beautiful. It would be much better if the occasion she was wearing it for wasn’t the one she was dreading over the past few days, but it had to be done. She had spent all this time convincing herself that it was just a job. Like pretending to be someone’s partner for a commercial, or play-fighting your arch-nemesis in a variety show. It was just another day in the life of Yena’s future acting career. That’s all.

She chatted politely with the stylist through the whole process of outfitting and make-up and hair, choosing not revealing much about herself or her relationships. Nor did the stylist pry. How lucky she was to be provided such a considerate stylist, Yena realised, to respect one’s privacy despite all the rumours that were circulating in the news. She made a mental note of the stylist for future work, and settled with buying coffee for the both of them for now. The stylist had refused, but Yena insisted.

“To help us both survive the rest of tonight,” she half-joked.

As she made her way to the awards show, Yena received a message. Her phone buzzed and vibrated in the pathetically-sized clutch bag she was given that was large enough to carry exactly one phone and a couple of tissues and nothing else. How was she supposed to survive awards shows without snacks? It was common knowledge that every celebrity attending any event ever snuck in food to eat. Shaking her head at how preposterous it all was, Yena took out her phone to listen to the audio message that Chaewon very kindly left for her.

“Yena? What the hell is this? Are you kidding me?” Although Chaewon’s voice was merely a recording, Yena could feel each word punctuated like a harsh slap against her skin. She subconsciously rubbed her bare arm as if stung. “Do you think you’re living in some stupid drama or something? You really think you’re helping Yuri by doing this? No one is benefitting from this, you idiot, except Takahashi Juri, that b-”

Yena hurriedly turned the recording off. She glanced around, smiling sheepishly at the driver (a guy supplied by Juri, probably; Yena really missed her manager's presence now) through the rearview mirror. Chaewon seemed really angry, and to be honest, Yena wasn’t surprised. She had always seemed quite disapproving of Yena’s actions sometimes, and her hunches usually turned out to be right. And it wasn’t like she was telling a lie, either. Juri was the main beneficiary of this scheme. Even Yena had no confirmation that Yuri was living a better life without being involved in all of this, although she would like to think the singer was. 

What if she asked Chaewon to check up on Yuri whenever she was on campus? Knowing Chaewon, she’d probably smack Yena upside the head and tell her to grow up. That was a very Chaewon-like thing to do, but Yena would have to risk it. Not like she could do it over the phone, anyway, so Yena was safe for now. 

"Chae," she whispered into the phone, keeping her voice low so the driver couldn't hear her, "I need to ask you something. Are the paparazzi and random weirdos still hanging around the music building, or is Yuri safe now?" 

Because if Yuri was safe, no matter how terrible Yena felt, this whole farce would be absolutely worth it. , but she barely managed to type out a “Hey” before the car came to a halt.

“Miss Choi, we’re here.”

“Ah. Okay.” Yena tucked her phone away. “Thanks.”

The door opened and Yena stepped out. An overture in a minor key appeared to play in the background as reporters swung their cameras around to snap photos of her in a stunning dress. Her hair, tied up in a flower braid, came down in gentle waves and swished with her as she twirled on the spot. For a moment, she allowed herself to revel in the delighted calls of the public, posing for the cameras. She took a step forward.

“Miss Choi,” her driver, standing nearby, muttered just loud enough for only her to hear. “We’ve been given instructions to wait for Miss Takahashi to arrive before continuing.”

Her smile froze on her face. Of course, of course. She had nearly forgotten. Fixing her business smile on her face, she continued to wave at the reporters, nodding in recognition at the actors and actresses that passed her by on the red carpet. Where the hell was Juri and why was she taking so long? Yena just wanted to get this damn thing over with and go home.

Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, a black car pulled up. Yena’s driver glanced at the door of the car, then at her. She took her cue and opened the door. Instinctively, out of pure manners and nothing else, she extended a hand to the woman waiting inside.

Taking Yena’s hand, Takahashi Juri gracefully slid out of her car. She was breathtaking. Donning a white dress that flowed down to the ground, with soft makeup that accentuated her natural beauty, she looked like a bride on her wedding day. No wonder the clicks of the cameramen suddenly increased in frequency as she glanced around with a shy smile on her face. When she tilted her head, turning that beautiful expression Yena’s way, Yena only felt revulsion. Anger bubbled in her chest as she scathingly wondered how Juri could still smile like that after doing all of this to her. Still, she forced a lovestruck look onto her face. It wasn’t too hard to do. 

After all, she had been in love with Juri only a few years ago.

#

So Yena enjoyed the awards show a bit more than what she had intended to. How could she not, given all the performances and the absolute excitement exuding from the crowd? The claps whenever the hosts introduced the nominees, the tear-filled speeches made by winners as they cradled the fruits of their hard work, and most importantly, the raucous cheers of encouragement from the audience - it reminded Yena why she had chosen this path for herself. The recognition, the pride. It was all here. And when she was finally the one to receive the Grand Award, she’d stand up swoop her lover into a deep kiss. Grinning at her imagined future, she turned around to face the woman she loved.

“You seem happy,” Juri murmured. Yena’s smile faltered; the spell was broken. “Award shows are really exciting, aren’t they?” Juri continued, her hand extending to brush over Yena’s. Yena shivered under her touch.

“Y-yeah, they are.” Yena pushed her chair back. “Sorry, I need to use the washroom for a bit.” She hurried out, leaving a bemused Juri in her wake.

In the washroom, Yena splashed some water on her face. How could she allow herself to be so easily swept up in the festivities? She wasn’t here to have fun. This was a job that was forced upon her because of her carelessness. And she had still yet to contact Yuri. Locking herself in a cubicle, Yena quickly called Yuri’s number. It rang and it rang and it rang.

The automated female voice answered her. “Please leave a message-”

“Yuri, if you’re listening to this voicemail, please pick up. I’m sorry for leaving you back then without an explanation. I…” Yena took a shuddering breath. “I should’ve known better. I don’t know whether you follow the tabloids, but I hoped that the news of my dating Juri would get the paparazzi and netizens off your back. The more I think about it now, I feel that was a mistake. I can’t stand seeing her smile. Every time I see her I just think of you.”

A knock sounded on her cubicle door, interrupting her monologue. Yena brought her phone closer to , muttering into it. “Please call me back. I miss you.” Then, gathering herself, she opened the door.

Juri stared at her from the other side of the door, eyes b with tears. “Hi.”

“Juri?” Yena glanced over at the other cubicles. Empty. “Did something happen?”

“You hate me,” Juri whispered.

“No, I don’t.”

“You do. You said so.” Juri took a step back. “You said I was a mistake.”

“Juri, you know that’s not what I meant.”

“Then what did you mean? You said this was a mistake. You said you couldn’t stand seeing me. What’s that supposed to mean?”

Yena was dumbstruck. Never in their months of dating had she seen Juri this furious, this upset. Not with tears freely streaming down her face, mixing with mascara, hands balled up in fists by her side. Not with this desperate, anguished expression in her eyes. “What I meant was, I don’t think this is going to work out for us,” Yena stated as calm as she could, hands splayed out in a gesture of surrender.

“Why?” Juri screamed, “I came back for you! Why can’t we fall back in love again?”

“Exactly. Why did you leave?”

“Because.” Juri sniffled and leaned back on the edge of the row of sinks. “I thought you shouldn’t have been weighed down by me. I mean, I wasn’t an actress then. You were just starting out. What if we were just stopping each other from chasing our dreams? What if we ended up as failures?”

In that moment Yena immediately understood the intrinsic distinction between the girl she had loved and the woman she loved now. It was doubt. The former had so easily thrown away what they had out of fear, doubting their abilities to succeed. But Yuri had reached out despite everything, had only provided understanding and support. 

Most importantly, Yuri was there when Juri was not. And that made all the difference.

“I’m sorry, Juri, but I already love someone else.” Now Yena could smile genuinely for the first time that night. She pulled out a tissue from her pathetically-sized bag and pushed it into Juri’s hands before making her way out. 

Pausing by the door, she turned around. “And don’t worry. Neither of us are failures. We did it, we succeeded. Just… without each other.”

#

One click, then another. Bending over by the entrance of her apartment, Yena peeled her heels off. She tiptoed on her aching feet to her kitchen, taking a big gulp of beer from a half-opened can in her fridge. Exhausted, Yena strode straight to her balcony and plonked herself down on the wooden flooring. Had she been too harsh on Juri back then? Maybe she shouldn’t have just left Juri there. The guilt was eating away at her. She sighed and scrubbed her face with her hands.

Relationships were just too hard. Zoning out and staring into the distance, her eyes focused on the little string tied to her balcony railing. The bell wind-chime. Scooting closer to it, she played with it, giggling childishly when it tinkled. She leaned backwards until her back met the floor, crossing her arms under her head to rest. “Yuri-ah,” she mumbled, “I miss you, you know that?”

The wind-chime sang its little tune. Quietly first, then louder. A bit more insistent.

“Yena? Are you there?”