what does holding hands mean to you?

*

there was a time when mere words couldn't get your heart across. you didn't always have a dictionary with you, and yet the need for japanese words had never been more urgent as you finished the programme, with a position in the final lineup.

you got in.

help me take care of them, eunbi had told you, the day after finale as the both of you packed your things in the woollim dorm. suyoon and sohee had sneakily excused themselves, thinking eunbi and you wouldn’t have any idea about the soft murmurs of ‘cake’ and ‘goodbye party’. party, they had called the plan as—as if it wouldn’t end up with the four of you crying by midnight.

you looked at eunbi, at her firm expression even as she took a piglet plushie and placed it into her suitcase. eunbi was the oldest in the lineup. eunbi was a leader by heart, too.

it shouldn’t have surprised you that she already felt a sense of responsibility over the group, even when it’s barely a day old.

look after hitomi for me, chaewonnie, said eunbi, flashing a smile at you.

you understood the logic. eunbi had gotten to know nako throughout the programme, had smoothly adopted and babied her even when it required a ton of body language. chaeyeon had unanimously been understood as the one sakura could (and would) gravitate to, questions and affections alike. that left hitomi.

and eunbi naturally felt more comfortable to ask for your help, compared to other members. you didn’t begrudge her for that, for trusting you enough to ask this of you. it’s just that.

it’s just.

how were you supposed to do this, when you could barely ask for the bathroom in japanese?

actually, that aside, there was no guarantee that hitomi would look at you for help in the first place. there were the ever-dependable chaeyeon, the fast-learner minjoo, the courageous yuri, and the experimental yena. there was hyewon the otaku, mother of minami and many others—she would have adopted more japanese kids if the show went on for a month longer, honestly—

you could hardly stop your heart from jumping up to your throat whenever you heard a japanese word.

so how were you supposed to do this?

(you didn't know what eunbi expected, really.)

*

what does holding hands mean to you?

*

hitomi approached you first.

(to no one's surprise, either. to sign up in a survival programme in another country, and then to go on and come out as one of the winners even when the language spoken was vastly different—hitomi had a commendable amount of stubborn bravery within herself, and you admired her for that.)

she shyly sat next to you when the twelve of you waited to be called in for the first ever meeting as IZ*ONE members. whispers and excited murmurs came from everyone else, speculating what you were here for, if you would have a variety show like your predecessors. nako was excitedly talking to chaeyeon who responded in turn, sakura dozing off on her shoulder.

you turned to hitomi and gave her a smile, and she returned it even more blindingly, cheeks gathering up and eyes forming crescent moons.

too adorable.

you wished you could easily remember the japanese word for it, if only to be able to mutter it under your breath. but the idea of the first meeting made you anxious in your excitement, and your brain refused to spare any cells to open the thin mental dictionary you had.

you caught a movement out of the corner of your eye, and your gaze flickered down to the clasped hands hitomi had in her lap. tightly, as though trying to channel out a feeling into the clenched fingers. your eyes flicked up to see that the blinding smile on hitomi’s lips was fading, replaced with taut eyebrows and worried lines.

ah.

she must have been nervous and even more anxious than you, about this. you could take comfort in the chatters of others’, with words you could understand—hitomi didn’t really share the same luxury as you.

you couldn't find words, not quick enough, not eloquent enough to offer comfort.

but you wanted to comfort her,

so you reached out to rest your hand atop her clasped ones.

hitomi slowly looked at you, the furrow of her eyebrows in askance, and you smiled. you squeezed the hands under your palm, trying to tell her in korean and through your gestures,

we'll be okay.

hitomi blinked down at your clasping hand. then the hands under yours shift, fingers curiously upturning, then loosely intertwining.

the corners of her lips quirked up into small, thankful smile.

(and she squeezed your hand back.)

*

what does holding hands mean to you?

*

words came far more easily for hitomi before it could ever to you, and you tried to not show it, but it made you feel embarrassed.

everyone's got their own pace, minjoo said, when everyone in your dorm gathered in the big room. besides, when the both of you went to namsan tower, you seemed equally comfortable! i’m sure hitomi appreciates you more than you’d ever know, unnie.

yeah, hyewon agreed in a drawl, at least you're not spouting words first without thinking, unlike someone. she levelled her gaze squarely at yena.

bruh—

the conversation went off a tangent from there, and you laughed at their jokes, trying your best to push the doubting voices to the back of your mind. you could do it most of the times; you drowned yourself in the noises, or threw yourself into practices. the doubts faded, leaving you alone for a while—

but sometimes they persisted like a stubborn acne waiting to explode.

you had the barest urge to turn towards eunbi, to say, you should've chosen minjoo instead of me, or hyewon-unnie.

but you turned to look at her, and eunbi was watching over the ongoing conversations fondly, back pressed up against the wall and knees gathered up to her chest. she looked exhausted but content, any exasperation flitting past her face easily accompanied by a smile.

eunbi had taken over the role of the group's guardian angel so easily, so wholeheartedly, even when her japanese was just as abysmal as yours. even when she scrambled for words just as badly. even back when no one had appointed her as the group’s leader yet; she didn’t shy away, didn’t wait for someone to tell her that it’s her obligation.

she followed what her heart told her, and embraced the eleven of you as best as she could.  

(so you didn't say it.)

*

what does holding hands mean to you?

*

words were still hard for you, even with hitomi's growing understanding of korean.

a part of you questioned why hitomi kept turning towards you to inquire about a curiosity or a question; especially when other members were right there. even nako got the right ideas, poking minjoo or chaeyeon whenever she wanted to know about something (and sometimes eunbi, too, but you suspected that nako just loved being babied, which was fair).

even then,

the other part of you felt warm, too. when hitomi tugged at your shirt just to get your attention so she could ask about something, when hitomi turned towards you after one of the managers relayed something important. a part of you melted easily, a flutter of feelings pushing down the dread of having to tackle explaining with what little eloquence you had.

in front of hitomi, under her unwavering attention, you were still the same chaewon who wasn’t the best at japanese. but you were also her chaewon-unnie. you were hitomi’s guardian angel, the one she wanted help from, sometimes even unconsciously—her already reaching out towards you without a thought, like it’s already an ingrained habit.

so you smiled, and used gestures. a lot of it.

you pointed, you drew things in the air.

you moved and mimed.

(and you held her hand.)

*

what does holding hands mean to you?

*

it was one of those nights where the agency gave your group a day off. the promotion for your debut was over, finally, with a lot of love that made you feel reenergized—no complaints could be heard from anyone, even when you were told that after this would be immediate preparations for your japanese debut.

you used to wonder, back then, how did some groups do back-to-back comebacks without dropping dead out of exhaustion—because wasn’t it tiring?

but now that you were experiencing it, you thought that you finally could understand a little better. thought—with a sliver of pride within yourself for finally being able to stand in this place—that if being on-stage is something one enjoys, then going up to perform is as vital as breathing. thought, that that’s what IZ*ONE is, to you, the air you breathed in so you could feel and laugh and cry.

(thought, fleetingly but not for the first time—that you wouldn't mind doing this forever, even, if it's with these members and for those precious people.)

the same way no one complained about the tight schedules, no one protested the day off, either. everyone took it gladly, spending the morning and afternoon ordering food and playing around, relaxing in the dorms.

and when the night came, eunbi told you to gather in one place, proposing a movie night.

(let's watch the conjuring, hyewon proposed.

let's not, yuri passionately denied.)

luckily for yuri, fate ended up with the twelve of you watching a dorama after a particular enthusiastic suggestion from yujin. you took the couch, trapped between hitomi and eunbi, and you tried your best to follow the subtitles plastered on screen (and your stubborn attempt was not at all because the warmth coming from your left side was distracting and you'd rather not face feelings, of course not).

chaewon-unnie, the soft whisper from your left said, lilting lightly as though about to ask something.

you inwardly sighed at the crumbling pieces of your effort, but out of habit, you reached out to where her hand would be. you easily found the open fingers and smoothly entwined your hands together,

hmmm? you hummed, but you didn't shift your gaze away from the screen.

hitomi didn't immediately reply, perhaps waiting for you to look over. somewhere between the third and the fourth breaths, she seemed to realize that you wouldn’t look over.

so she shifted next to you, and you dimly felt a weight settling down your shoulder.

you stiffened for the briefest moment, but you feared questions, so you forced yourself to relax again. you glanced to eunbi who was very carefully not looking at the both of you, but from the slight curl of her lips, you knew that she was aware.

you swallowed, and turned back to look at the screen. you stared at the screen hard and contemplative until hitomi squeezed your hand,

chaewon-unnie?

you swallowed again. the side hitomi occupied was burning and you could feel your pulse on your fingertips, but you replied,

yeah?

there was a beat of silence. then in the quietest whisper, softly spoken to the night,

thank you for holding my hand.

(you couldn't recall anything about the dorama.)

*

what does holding hands mean to you?

you look up at the question, blinking at minjoo's curious face.

what?

minjoo sighs. what… does…

wait. i heard you the first time. you crinkle your nose, what kind of question is that? holding hands is just. well just. holding hands.

minjoo makes a dissatisfied noise in the back of . for someone who literally gave it as the answer to the most memorable thing you've heard from a member—

you flush at that. that was—!

minjoo waves a hand, shaking her head. spare me from your denial, she says, i was just asking to see if it could spark an inspiration for new lyrics. and then she lets out a thoughtful hum, or maybe hitomi would have more luck in asking you—

you cough loudly, abruptly shutting off your phone. you get up from the couch, darting a glance towards the kitchen—an escape route in case minjoo's suddenly in the mood to force you to face your own heart.

try asking chaeyeon-unnie, you say, looking at her again. she might even write you the answer in a poem.

minjoo squints at you. and you can't?

nope, you promptly reply.

because there's no way you can tell minjoo that holding hands mean a thousand words to you. there's no way you can tell minjoo that holding hands is how you say i’m here, don't worry, we'll be okay, have you slept well, i'm glad you're next to me, how are you this morning, i missed you, you're so cute, i want to be able to hold your hand for a long time—

there's no way you can tell minjoo that holding hands is your voice when words fail you.

there's no way you can tell anyone this, no way you can ever say that when you hold hitomi's hand your heart sings something along the line of i like you, i miss your smile, don't go anywhere—

holding hands is just, you whisper, minjoo perking up before you.

holding hands is just a conversation in silence.

(and you wonder if hitomi's heard all the words you meant.)

you blink several times.

you drop your gaze to the open blocknote, then your eyes travel up to the pen uncapped and ready to write. and lastly, slowly, you look up to the person holding these things, standing at your door at 3am. everyone else in the big room is fast asleep, and you would have been the same, if you weren’t so engrossed in chatting with hitomi through messages a fe moments ago—

until the younger told you that she has a question for you.

how did you manage to get permission from chaeyeon-unnie, you say, refraining from yawning.

i just sneaked out, hitomi lightly answers. at your widening eyes she chuckles heartily,

it’s alright, i plan to take the couch. i’ll go back in the morning.

what kinda question can’t wait until later? you pause then add as an afterthought, or just be sent through a message. hitoma, if this is some kinda trick question—it’s three in the morning so heavens help me—

she laughs, stepping in. her shoulder brushes against yours as she walks past while you hang back to lock the door again, and you pause just for the briefest moment at the fluttering jolt the contact sends.

chaewon-unnie.

you push the door close and hum, hmm?

what does holding hands mean to you?

the resounding click of the door fills the air as loud as your heartbeat drumming up in your ears.

in hindsight, you shouldn’t be surprised.

ah, minjoo told me, hitomi continues, and of course. she said you didn’t really answer, and that i might have a better luck.

your next exhale is slow, timed and trying to soothe your nerves before you turn around to face her. she’s looking at you under the dimming light of the dorm, eyes glinting with a faint sparkle that has long started to draw you in.

somewhere between the yesterdays, an unnamed feeling sneaks in, and stays, and grows.

an unnamed feeling that makes you simultaneously want to hug hitomi and run far away. an unnamed feeling that makes you simultaneously want to sing a love song to her and yell unintelligibly at the top of your lungs from the rooftop at the dead of the night.

an unnamed feeling that makes your stomach churn whenever you come just a step away from spilling your heart out, laying it bare.

like now.

you heave out and say, is this still for lyrics inspiration?

hitomi tilts her head, the other end of the pen lightly tapping her chin.

because, you go on to say, if it is, then i’ve actually answered the question.

ah, says hitomi slowly, the one that goes, ‘a conversation in silence’?

you give her a nod. yep.

minjoo told me about that one, actually.

then why—

your words trail off as hitomi takes a step towards you. she closes the blocknote, transfers it to her left hand with the pen slipped in between her index and middle fingers, and she reaches out to you with her right hand. you know what she means to do, what she wants to do, so you meet her hand halfway, trying to ignore how right it feels to hold her hand, how the fingers slipping into yours—the loose yet secure hold as they clasp down your hand—are warming your entire being to the point that your heart hurts a little.

i guess i’ll need to rephrase my question, unnie.

hitomi doesn’t look away from your linked hands. her eyes are fixated on them even as she continues,

i was more wondering about the words you might have tried to say every time we hold hands.

you don’t know what to say to that.

(or you know. you know too well and there’s too much that you want to say but none the bravery and—)

hitomi squeezes your hand, gaze flicking up to catch your eyes. there’s a small smile on her lips,

like this. i just tried to say something to you. care to guess?

you sputter. er, ah, ‘chaewon-unnie is so slow—’

hitomi snorts. plausible, but no, she shakes her head. i was trying to say ‘thank you for holding my hand.’

how?

how does one refrain themselves from smiling at that? you don’t know. you don’t think you’ll ever know how, because hitomi draws out smiles and laughter from you way too easily, and you can’t suppress the twitch of your lips, can’t hold back the curving of your mouth at the remark.

hitomi squeezes your hand again.

what about this one?

you don’t know where she’s going with this, but you play along. ‘please keep calling me cute?’

hitomi’s smile breaks out into a grin that feels like a win to you. close enough, she says, seemingly satisfied. i’ll let unnie have this one.

yay.

that’s one of the deadest yay i’ve ever heard in this lifetime,

cut me some slack, you exaggeratedly sigh. it is three in the morning.

hitomi’s mirth quiets down into a smile, and then she gives one more squeeze, one that lasts a little longer, the loosening of her hold afterwards a slow act that somehow makes your heart ache.

she asks,

and this one?

you try to give it a thought, searching for a memory that stands strikingly to you like the two before this. except—except every memory, every word hitomi has ever wholeheartedly told you, you collect each of them and keep them close to your heart, so much that you wonder if hitomi even remembers half of them.

so you say,

‘i am 18.’

and there’s a twitch to hitomi’s lips, like she wants to laugh but ultimately refrains. she shakes her head instead, tells you, no.

no, it’s not that.

her hold of you loosens and loosens, fingers untangling and pulling away. a quiet sentence spoken next, with a weight you’ve felt plaguing you during sleepless nights—

i was trying to say ‘i like you.’

except you’ve never thought that hitomi would go through the same thoughts, too. you’ve never suspected that her lingering glances and discreet smiles for you were something exclusive, having tried your best to convince yourself every turn that she treats the other members just the same. you’ve never expected her to look at you with a glimmer in her eyes strikingly resembling the glint you’ve seen in your own whenever you look into the mirror as you wash your face after dwelling in the thoughts of her.

(you’ve never dared to hope that she was saying the same thing you’ve been trying to convey.)

hitomi is still staring at you, but her smile is changing. there’s a flicker of uncertainty in her eyes as you try to process everything, and she steps back, clearing .

i just wanted to say that, she says, laughing quietly to herself and it sounds so false. you shake your head but hitomi nods, you don’t have to reply—

your hand moves faster than words.

you step forward and reach for her hand. you wrap your fingers across her palm and squeeze it, your eyes catching her gaze, heartbeat thrumming within your chest.

this means, you say, slowly so your voice doesn’t lodge in your throat halfway, this means ‘i like you too.’

hitomi heaves out a breath like she’s deflating, but splits into a smile. a smile so wide, so bright, tone disbelieving as she murmurs,

unnie—

you squeeze her hand once again. this means, you say, amidst the whirlwind of words inside your head,

this means ‘i like you a lot it feels like my heart is about to burst.’

hitomi heaves out once again, then the next second she’s falling to you and you catch her, embrace her, wrapping your arms around her frame and feeling her quiet laugh against your shoulder, the warmth trickling down to your chest, to your stomach, to every nerve in your entire being. you close your eyes when she curls her hands around you, one hand holding nothing now clutching on the fabric of your shirt.

if this is a dream, she says, words burning against your skin, i don’t want to wake up.

you can barely resist yourself from turning slightly to kiss the side of her head.

if this is a dream, you say, i’ll stay with you until reality comes around.

(but reality’s here, it’s here when hitomi lightly pinches your shoulder, it’s here when you fake a yelp as your hug loosens, it’s here when she chuckles and kisses the part she’s pinched in apology.

it’s here when the both of you lapse into a comfortable silence as you look at each other.

it’s here when you finally lean in to kiss her, her happiness sweet and warm upon your lips.

it’s here.)

*

what does holding hands mean to you?

because for me, it means that i’m here,

i’m glad you’re here,

and i like you.

(so much that my heart feels like it’s gonna burst.)

END.