Twitter searches hurt, and yet Jisoo did them all the same, refreshing the little blue bird app late at night, the blue light hurting her eyes until she could blame it for her tears. Right now it wasn’t the case, though: she was dozing off, half-asleep half-awake, as a hairstylist prepared her hair for the concert stage. Chattering went off around her, Jennie and Lisa showing each other cute little Instagram videos and Chaeyoung peeked in every so often, looking for a second before being yanked back to her seat, and Jisoo understood almost nothing they spoke about, English flowing around them like it was natural.

They didn’t mean it: it had started as a habit, from back when Lisa and Chaeyoung weren’t particularly good with Korean. Jisoo, meanwhile...

Jisoo wasn’t that good in English, the language foreign to her and her ears. She could speak a little, but not enough to be fully conversational, not like the other three were.

And yet she still had a Twitter account, false and filled with phrases she had mooched off others in an attempt to blend in. She didn’t have to be particularly good at English to use the little translate button at the end of each tweet and read the - quite hurtful, were she honest - comments made. Sure, she agreed on some takes about her boss, but seeing people refer to her like she wasn’t even part of the group: she had seen the Jennie and her dancers, Rosé and friends and Lisa and her backup singers comment more than once, seen the criticism against her, seen people forget she was part of the group she had fought tooth and nail to stay on, thank you very much. 

Not like she felt part of it right now, watching and not being able to interact because of a language barrier. She felt like an outsider if they didn’t speak the shared language the four had, and Jisoo didn’t like struggling to understand a joke. If anyone told her she was starting to dislike her group mates, Jisoo would deny vehemently, but inside there’d be a nod. She just hoped that no one outside the group was noticing it; that had been part of the reason she had created a Twitter account.

People forgot idols were curious too. Jisoo… What could Jisoo say? If the boss found out she had a Twitter account against the rules that said “no social media other than your Instagram account”, then consequences would be dire. She flinched at the thought of her predecessors, and the hairstylist paused for a moment.

“Everything alright?” The woman asked, and Jisoo smiled, nodding. The hairstylist shrugged and went back to - Jisoo had no idea, but it involved a lot of heat and pulling, and she let it happen, scalp numb from being so pulled, tearing her hair at the roots - even when staff laughed behind her back, when Jisoo would touch her head, hurting from having her hair pulled out and relaxed too many times, until it fell in straight strands, falling in clumps, smiling when handed outfits that wouldn’t protect her from the chill, pleading to any entity above that would hear that dancing would warm her up.

She could see Jennie and Lisa eye her, concerned for how… Nice, perhaps?... She was to staff, apologizing with a smile, but Jisoo did not see why not. She had seen the comments, seen the malice, seen the blame: she didn’t want anyone other than herself feeling bad. Jisoo could take it.

“Alright girls, five minutes!” The manager called, peeking his head into the room for a moment before going outside again. There was a chorus of okays and nods, and the hairstylist finally stopped pulling on Jisoo’s hair. 

Her scalp tingled, unpleasant; Jisoo knew it’d hurt the entire night and into the morning, but she smiled through the mirror to the hairstylist and thanked the woman, rising up, perfect makeup and perfect smile coating the sadness she felt inside.

She was ready to not shine.