It’s quiet, Yuri thinks, picking at the bedsheet underneath her. She’s dressed in pyjamas, ready to sleep, except—there’s an odd weight settling inside her chest that she knows wouldn’t allow her to doze off just yet. And the quietude filling up the room doesn’t help, the absence of noises seeming loud that she moves to take her phone and message a certain someone after a beat.

yuri: can I crash

It’s succinct, to the point. The messages preceding it not so much, really; there are plenty of teasing words and exclamation marks, punching emojis littered in-between sent lines. Yuri refrains from scrolling up, forbids herself from backreading. Three dots appear to indicate the other person is typing, and then.

minjoo: not if you’re only going to raid my yogurt too…

Yuri feels her own lips quirk up, intending to smile—but the odd weight inside her chest burrows deeper, and she squeezes out a breath.

yuri: hmph. stingy witch

She locks her phone and gets up, mouth moving—thinning then curving then pursing—until she settles with biting her lower lip, a comfortable habit, and she motors around the room to tidy up her bed before she leaves. Her phone vibrates faintly inside her pocket, delivering Minjoo’s reply, but Yuri ignores it in favour of telling Chaeyeon that she’d be over the other dorm, nodding and pulling up a tight smile at Chaeyeon’s soft ‘take care’.

“I’ll come back for breakfast,” Yuri promises, glancing at Wonyoung who’s been watching her from the moment she opened the door in search of Chaeyeon. “Don’t pull a midnight ramyeon party without me,” she ribs the youngest, who easily pulls a pout.

“We just ate!” Wonyoung says, indignant. “There’s no room for ramyeon.”

“There’s always a room for ramyeon—”

Chaeyeon sighs, even as her lips curve into a fond smile. “Try to not get even more influenced by Hyewon’s lifestyle tonight, okay Yuri-yah?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Yuri replies lightly, and for a moment the odd weight inside her chest doesn’t feel as stark, doesn’t dig too deeply into her stomach. Chaeyeon laughs, short but loud enough, there enough, and Yuri bids them both goodnight, closes the door to Wonyoung’s room before she goes. She glances towards the room Chaeyeon and Sakura share on her way out, knows she’d find the other three occupants of the dorm tucked away there, and when she tries to swallow, it goes down thickly like she’s having a flu.

Yuri sniffs, putting on her shoes. Her phone vibrates again, probably Minjoo, asking for confirmation or flaming her further for her response earlier. She leaves that unanswered, too, putting her facemask on before she opens the door—then she leaves.

*

It’s comforting, Yuri thinks, to knock on the door to Minjoo’s solo room and having it swung open with the owner immediately rattling—

“No yogurt. I drank every yogurt I had before you come. No one can take them from me, now.”

Yuri blinks, then arches her eyebrows, stuffing her facemask into her pocket. She maintains the expression for ten whole seconds before Minjoo sighs, stern face melting down into a petulant frown, and opens the door wider.

“Yena-unnie stole some when she came in earlier,” Minjoo finally admits, sounding pained.

“You could’ve just, I don’t know, not let her in,” Yuri flatly suggests as she steps inside. Minjoo huffs but she doesn’t answer, because as much as Kim Minjoo complains, she likes it when anyone drops by to visit, smiles brightly whenever someone pokes their head in and asks if it’s okay to disturb. So no, Minjoo can’t, in fact, forbid Yena from coming even if Yena had waved a banner saying ‘I’m here to steal your yogurt!’ by the entrance. Minjoo won’t deny a company, especially not after—

Yuri swallows, listening to the faint click of the door Minjoo has just closed.

“I’m surprised you’re still awake this late,” Minjoo starts off, facing her.

“Everyone is still awake this late,” Yuri points out, following the latter’s steps towards the bed. “I was alone, in my room. Since Nako is with Kkura-unnie and Hii. And I just…” she tapers off, the confession of feeling lonely tugging at her tongue but not quite making it out of .

Minjoo glances up from where she is, already sitting down by the edge of her bed.

“You just… missed me?”

Minjoo asks, expression light-heartedly smug—she’s joking, Yuri easily identifies, and a scoff escapes herself in the next breath.

“Keep on dreaming,” she says, and plops down on the spot next to her. Minjoo snorts, the space between them able to fit a fist, and Yuri considers leaning in—

(But she feels light and Minjoo looks light and what if, what if—what if all it takes is a touch to yank them back to Earth?)

“You can’t dream awake, Yul,” Minjoo is saying, and Yuri steers herself away from that thought to scrunch her nose up, levelling her gaze at Minjoo.

“Sure can. It’s called daydreaming. One of our songs is titled that, Kim Minjoo-sshi, how dare you forget—”

“You came here, into my sanctuary, being let in out of the goodness of my heart only to disrespect me…”

“This is my room now,” Yuri grandly exclaims, leaning over to snatch the only pillow in the room and hugging it to her chest. “I’ve decided.”

Minjoo narrows her eyes at her. “Give that pillow back.”

“If it’s so important to you, you should’ve held it tighter,” Yuri tells her, scooting away. “Alas, thou hath not treasure it enough. And you know what wise men say: if you made a pillow cry, you can’t complain when someone else wipes its tears away.”

Minjoo makes a noise that sounds halfway between offended and perplexed. Yuri grins, because this—talking and getting a rise out of Minjoo—never fails to make her feel light and tug her lips up. (She’s given up trying to figure out why; sometimes feelings just are. Aren’t they?)

Upon seeing her grin, Minjoo’s lips twitch, too, but she reaches out for the pillow and Yuri lets out a scandalized gasp, jolting away. “No!”

“What do you mean no, quit it it’s my pillow—”

“But Min, you’ve given it up, you’ve let it down—”

“Do you even hear yourself??”

The argument—that at the end of the day amounts to nothing, really, just an argument for the sake of arguing, a banter with Minjoo’s pillow caught in the crossfire—carries on for a remarkably long moment. They don’t get physical, too tired to have a go at it beyond light shoves or mischievous tickling, but it doesn’t stop Minjoo from pretending that her shoulder has been gravely injured when Yuri whacks it with the pillow. Whines and laughter fill the air, rising up and up and up until eventually, like all things in life, it ends, it fades.

The mirth in the air comes down with them sprawling on the bed, lying on their backs, the pillow securely held in Minjoo’s arms. Yuri clutches on a bunny plushie—Eunbi’s, but she doesn’t comment on how it got there—and stares up at the ceiling, chest heaving with the irregular breaths from their ‘brawl’.

Minjoo feels close.

She is close. Their shoulders are touching, and Yuri can feel the warmth of her presence from that point of contact. She can see her when she glances over, and she can pick up the sound of her breathing if she listens hard enough. Minjoo feels close, is close, it’s really an observation that’s way too simple, too obvious, and it would have been a passing fact had she thought of it any other day.

(Except something about that thought tonight restarts the odd weight that settles inside her chest, one that causes her to fixate on the fact that Minjoo is close by right now and how—and how someday—)

“Is there really no yogurt left in your fridge?”

Yuri asks, voice low and scraping up . She shuts her earlier train of thought firmly with a faint warmth crawling up her nose, and hates herself a little for it.

If Minjoo notices the change in her tone, she doesn’t point it out. “Yeah,” she answers instead, “Yena-unnie raided earlier. With Yujin. I was not one of God’s strongest soldiers…”

“You’re not strong, period,” Yuri throws in, and out of the corner of her eye she can see Minjoo’s face pinching into a dismayed frown. Yuri lets her amusement show, lets herself stifle back a snort, and Minjoo predictably replies.

“You aren’t that much stronger, either.”

Which is true. The strongest between the four same-age friends is undoubtedly Nako, and Chaeyeon would unconsciously fold or shift her knees if this subject is brought up in front of her. The rest of them are on par, really, but Yuri and Hitomi have teamed up to decide that Minjoo is definitely a little below them, so there’s that.

(But, Yuri thinks, with far less snark and a surprising amount of lump in , Minjoo was strong today. Is strong right now. Because she glances at her and she doesn’t look like she has a massive Jupiter stuffed into the room inside her chest, with all of its moons, waiting to burst. She is strong, Yuri thinks, envies, and she wonders how to be as strong.)

“Is there even anything inside your fridge?”

Is what Yuri ends up asking, above all the thoughts circulating inside her mind. A part of her simmers with frustration, wanting to—to—to be direct, even though she struggles to know what is it exactly that she wants to say, what being direct would entail. Maybe her mind is not made to draw direct conclusions, maybe she is inherently incapable of being direct.

Minjoo hums, shifts. The friction of their shoulders sends a tingle that sinks and melts into Yuri’s skin. “There’s a cup of ice cream.”

“Oh.” Yuri bites down her bottom lip, then says, “And here I thought you’ve learned not to tell me if you don’t want your ice cream gone.”

“Everyone deserves an ice cream,” Minjoo says, shrugging and staring up at the ceiling. “…And that includes me. I deserve ice cream too, but I only have one, so we’ll have to share.”

Yuri looks over, pokes at Minjoo’s cheek with one finger. “Are you in the mood for ice cream?”

That gains her a snort. “Well, no.” They had started a fest after the concert, ordering foods and stuffing themselves with delicious dishes, Hitomi marvelling over the shrimps. Minjoo sighs, obviously not because of the shrimps, but Yuri thinks she must’ve also been thinking about the dinner they just had because she’s smiling, too, as slight as it is. “Maybe tomorrow, then.”

“Tomorrow,” Yuri echoes.

“Tomorrow,” Minjoo repeats, carefully light, and the word hangs there, in the air, alone for a hot second until Minjoo exhales and a vulnerable thought follows.

“Because you’ll still be here tomorrow, right?”

And there it is, that odd weight inside Yuri’s chest.

It makes itself known, once again, weighing heavier this time, expanding in size and strangling Yuri’s next breath. She tries to form a grin, tries to lift her lips into a smirk and arranges to push out a teasing response, but what really comes out of her is a shaky answer.

“Of course.”

And she stares, glares, at the ceiling, because warmth starts to pool around her eyes, prickling, drenching. She doesn’t glance, thinks something embarrassing would happen if she does, so she only swallows and swallows and then, with faux brightness, says, “I’ll still be here the day after tomorrow, too.”

Minjoo is quiet, too quiet, and then there’s a sniff, and Yuri’s heart shatters.

“Does that mean—” Minjoo starts, chokes a little, and restarts before Yuri can try to express concern, “does that mean you’re going to stay over for two days?”

“…I mean, I might need to consult Chaeyeon-unnie first.” She promised to come back for breakfast, after all.

Minjoo huffs out a laugh, the sound dampened compared to her usual joy, and if there’s anything Yuri does better than being direct with her words, it’s this. This, her hand lifting then shifting to reach for Minjoo’s, which is awkward because Minjoo is hugging her pillow and Yuri’s hand has to angle weirdly to reach her fingers, prying them away from the soft cushion, but she does it nonetheless. She does it, then clasps her fingers down Minjoo’s slender ones, squeezing it gently as she brings them to the space between their bodies.

Minjoo lets out an exhale, the puff of air shaky. Yuri doesn’t glance at her still, and thinks Minjoo isn’t looking at her, either.

“Min,” she starts, and immediately subtle questions tug at the tip of her tongue: is a fridge still a fridge without anything in it, do you think? Why do clock-arms move in circles when time moves always forward instead of in loops? Do you hate it when I pick fights with you? Do you want to come to practice tomorrow, even though we, even though it’s—

But her eyebrows furrow tightly, throat constricting. Her chest squeezes and squeezes and in the end she exhales,

“You did well. With Full Moon and Daydream, I couldn’t look away.”

Minjoo sniffs, long and slow. “Why couldn’t you? You’ve watched our practices countless times.” You’ve watched me perform my part all those nights in the practice rooms, was what Minjoo didn’t need to say, because they’ve known each other enough to fill in the blanks, which is ridiculous, because it makes Yuri feel like she’s known Minjoo forever, has had her by her side her entire life, and maybe that’s why the little thudding organ inside her chest aches and aches and aches—

“Rude,” Yuri says, voice hoarse and a little stilted. “Just say you didn’t feel as amazed with my performances and go.”

“Don’t be silly,” Minjoo chuckles, squeezing her fingers, shifting to look at her. Yuri takes a glance despite herself, and pauses at the red-rimmed eyes, that blink and soften and shine as Minjoo murmurs, “Ah… what would I do without your voice, Yul?”

And Minjoo’s voice splinters, near the end, breaking ever so slightly at Yul, tone lilting in a questioning manner laced with quiet resignation that burns under Yuri’s lungs. Any other day and it would have annoyed her, almost, how they still end up here anyway, despite Yuri’s best effort to talk around the elephant in the room that’s coloured in all of her feelings and some, but her lips quiver and she gulps down the coals in , huffs out a breath that throws her back to a few hours ago, where it was hard to breathe, where everything hurt, and the odd weight in her chest expands.

It’s despair, devastation, fear, broken hopes, it’s postponed goodbyes she doesn’t ever want to face and Minjoo heaves out a fragile, ‘oh no,’ smiling tearily at her and squeezing her hand.

Then the dam breaks—for the both of them.

(What would I do without you?)

*

(“Your voice is so reassuring,” Minjoo breathed out, their backs pressed against the wall made of glass, sweat dribbling down their skins. The practice room had been emptied out of souls save for the two of them, hanging back under Eunbi’s permission and Chaeyeon’s knowledge.

Yuri lifted her brows, lips pulled up into a disbelieving snicker. “Yeah, right—"

“I’m serious,” Minjoo added in earnest, always so earnest for this kind of thing, “whenever we perform—there’s always, always a part of me that’s taunting me about messing up, and it’s itching to tell me I told you so, because it’s inevitable for me to make a mistake someday, right? So that part always… looms, in the back of my mind, watching my next step and waiting for the moment I slip up. And it’s… there are a lot of times where I think that this would be it. That I’ll mess up, finally, and bring you all down with me somehow. But then, then your voice would come, and my—" she gestured to herself, from head to toe, smiling. “They click back into place, you know, just… click back into place. And I feel sure again, that we can do it. Because I hear you and you always sound as certain.”

Yuri had wanted to burst, then.

Her heart was a ballooning warmth and her cheeks were warm, jaw hurting a little from how wide she had smiled, and by God she wanted to call bull, let out a disbelieving scoff, anything so she could feel a little less embarrassed over the praise and partly out of genuine disbelief—but that’s the thing about Minjoo, wasn’t it?

You could have no ounce of faith for yourself and she’d believe in you enough for the two of you. She’d be painfully sincere about it that you wouldn’t have the heart to deny, too, so Yuri couldn’t, wouldn’t bring herself to do it.

I wish you’d be as kind to yourself, Yuri had thought then, fingers curling around an Eunbi uchiwa that their leader must have left behind. But it was easier to think rather than say, and Minjoo was in a pretty uplifting mood, so Yuri formed a grin and started flapping the uchiwa towards Minjoo’s direction instead of descending into an unasked hypocritical pep talk about confidence and self-worth.

“Thank you for the compliment, Your Highness,” she said lightly, pushing out a deliberate degree of mirth so that Minjoo wouldn’t know of the firm determination that laid beneath her next words.

“I’ll try my best, to keep on doing that.”

So that she wouldn’t know that it was a promise.)

*

It should feel embarrassing, Yuri thinks, to crash into Minjoo’s room only to sob all over the place like this. God, Wonyoung wouldn’t approve of this, would she? She’s been insistent that they finish the day with a smile, both WIZ*ONEs and them. Though on the plus side, technically it’s past midnight, so the day has passed. It’s a new day now and Wonyoung’s plea didn’t cover that, so—

Yuri doesn’t know why she’s thinking of her all of a sudden, trying to stifle back the massive lug of ache that clogs up . She hopes Wonyoung has actually gone and done a midnight ramyeon party without her. Maybe their J-line would have rounded up their talks by now and came out of the room to drag Chaeyeon and Wonyoung to eat, because there’s always a room for ramyeon, a room for eating together, a room for one more time spent with each other.

“Wonyoung would be so disappointed,” she hears Minjoo mutter out of the blue, and somehow that sets Yuri off laughing because—because. Because one, she literally was just thinking that, and two, Minjoo sounds comically sad, regretful that they’re shedding tears, not because it hurts but because their youngest member wished they wouldn’t and yet here they are, breaking that wish.

Minjoo joins her wet laughter with a faint chuckle, wiping at her eyes.

“I was just thinking that too,” Yuri admits, coughing a little. She moves to sit, then, not wanting to die choking on her snot. The shift of the bed doesn’t stop when she finally sits, because Minjoo then mirrors her action, gingerly getting up.

“I’ll fetch us some tissues,” Minjoo then says, dropping the pillow she has zealously kept away from Yuri and actually rolling out of bed. “…Actually, I’m going to the bathroom too. Be right back.”

“Poop well,” Yuri calls after her, and grins at the sputtered response Minjoo gives. She watches her walk away, has done it countless times before, but there’s just—something about tonight. There’s something about tonight and her next swallow is thick and when she reaches out for the pillow, it’s no longer to win over Minjoo in some kind of a petty squabble.

It’s to feel her warmth, that lingers and clings onto the soft cushion even after she departs.

(Yuri rests her palm there, only retracting it when Minjoo returns.)

*

(“Are you going home, after this?”

They were in the middle of long hours stretched across sport tracks and rolling cameras, ISAC filming living up to its notoriety of lasting for more than 20 hours. Groups came and competed and mingled with each other, cross-agency friends breaking off into new groups and occasionally creating hijinks they would let their fans witness.

Yuri hadn’t been there before, with her only place situated on the couch inside her home in front of the screen instead of on the tracks, but she was IZ*ONE now and it meant being signed up to participate, training for a category entirely not covered by Stone Music Ent. nor the Produce 48 trainers.

Speaking of Produce.

Yuri looked over at the question, blinking at Yoojung, Choi Yoojung, former IOI, now WekiMeki member, and Yuri’s senior in more ways than one. Seniority aside, though, they had also become friends, miraculously enough without needing the aid of the produce series, and Yoojung was a steady reassurance for her both before and after the hellhole. Having Yoojung was a relief, and made it all the more meaningful that she could meet her in this field as IZ*ONE Yuri now.

“Of course,” so Yuri replied to the question, “we don’t have other schedules to attend, after all. So of course I’m going home.”

Yoojung made a round sound, like an o but not quite. It almost sounded like a hum, but it didn’t matter because Yoojung then asked, “So you’re going to Busan?”

And Yuri blinked, baffled. “Bus—?! Oh. Oh, no! I meant the dorms. We’ll be given time to go, ah, ‘home’ home when we’re on a break.”

Yoojung smiled widely then, nose scrunching up and curved eyes meaningful like she knew something Yuri didn’t. A beat later Eunbi’s voice called for her, and she really ought to answer quickly, but Yuri had to know first.

“No wait, why are you smiling at me like that?”

And Yoojung laughed, pushing her to stand. She started advising her about trying to enjoy the filming, even though ISAC could be incredibly tiring, and then to remember to bring Honda Hitomi around sometime because she’s cute and Yoojung had decided she liked her.

“She’ll be honoured,” Yuri said slowly, blinking at the reminder. At Yoojung’s furrowed brows she clarified, “I’m not exaggerating. Hii would actually feel honoured instead of just, you know, being happy or embarrassed or shy. She’s pretty… proper about holding her seniors in a high regard. Honestly, she’d probably bring you up when we’re home later.”

Yoojung hummed, the same beaming smile touching her lips again. Yuri was standing, now, ready to go towards where her members were, but Yoojung then halted her by a tug to her hand.

“Yuri.”

Yuri turned. Yoojung’s beam had melted down into that of a smile riddled with fondness, the open expression on her face coming off a little wistful.

“You’ve considered them home, haven’t you?”

That gave her a start, leaving a jolt to her conscious. The statement sounded loud, ringing clear even with the buzzing cheers filling up the stadium. She opened but closed it again in a second, thinking back to her words just a moment ago.

Had she done so, considering them home? The dorms, the place she was living in with the members? But Yoojung had said them. The people, not the building. The members, not the dorms. Perhaps Yoojung had said them because it didn’t matter if their dorms moved, if they changed location, as long as it housed the twelve of them inside its walls, wouldn’t Yuri start to think of that place as home too?

And then what followed afterwards was something calm, almost enlightening. It was a speck of realization dawning on her with a small exhale of her breath. She nodded at Yoojung, then, after a long beat, and smiled a little because she couldn’t do anything about it except to acknowledge.

Yoojung snorted, and released her hand. “Have fun,” she told her, at last, and Yuri thought with members like hers she didn’t need to be told that.

So she took off, wandered back into their stands and blinked at the corndog Sakura somehow got ahold of, God knew from where, while Yujin was apparently giving a pep talk to Chaewon about the upcoming relay race. Minjoo waved her over, hooking an arm around Yuri’s the moment she settled down and immediately pointing out the part of the podium WIZ*ONEs were apparently stationed at. Yuri let herself be swept into their atmosphere, waving at WIZ*ONEs, laughing when Nako pinched Yena’s thigh after the latter about stealing glances at TWICE sunbaenims one time too many.

You’ve considered them home, Yoojung’s voice repeated in her ears, and Yuri thought she was just glad—content, relieved—that this home felt as warm and welcoming, too, engulfing her in a bubble she was happy to sink into.)

*

It’s gross, Yuri thinks, the swollen feeling of her eyes and cheeks after a great number of crumpled tissues. The trash bin Minjoo keeps under her bed has already filled up halfway, and they avoid looking at each other for a while.

“…We really had no business poking fun at the staffs for crying earlier,” Minjoo muses, gesturing to—them, without really looking at Yuri yet. Look at us, is what Minjoo seems to mean, as if we’re any better.

Yuri just snorts.

“Sorry,” Minjoo says next, blowing her nose into the last tissue in her hand and glancing at her. “You aren’t here for more crying, are you?”

“No,” Yuri agrees, points at the giant refrigerator occupying the space near the door. “I was here to raid your fridge, but.” She shrugs nonchalantly.

A soft amused smile etches itself onto Minjoo’s face at that, and Yuri feels a flicker of fleeting happiness for getting to be the cause.

“Do you want to sleep, Yul?” Minjoo asks, bending down to dispose the balled-up tissue, too. Yuri doesn’t immediately answer, taking the question in and thinking carefully about it for a long moment.

In all honesty, they probably should.

They probably should, because it’s nearly 2 am and her head hurts from all the emotional waves that had crashed onto and washed over her. They probably should, because anything they try to talk about will be laced with—this, with raw feelings clogging up their throats and two years worth of memories flashing and fading like a dying flashlight.

Minjoo glances at her, and Yuri thinks of sleeping, of letting this night pass. Tomorrow they’ll wake up, with the same odd feelings weighing their hearts but less the reckless desperation to talk about it, and they’ll pivot around it, interact around it, slotting back humour and shenanigans into their conversations while leaving all these burning wounds covered and soundless. They’ll start feeling like they have to be strong again, for each other, so they shouldn’t cry, because that member and this member would be worried or Eunbi would look stricken, or Sakura would be alert, or Wonyoung would hover by the door wondering how to brighten it all, or Chaeyeon would—Hitomi would—Nako would—everyone would, would, would—

Yuri takes a deep breath, pulling herself back into the single room, eyes refocusing on Minjoo again, who is waiting patiently for her answer though her eyebrows are now knitted together with a vague concern.

(Yuri wonders about taking up the offer, about saying yes, about sleeping this vulnerable time away and putting everything behind them, but. But.

Do I want that?

Does Minjoo want that?)

“Are you?” she finally asks, quiet, voice a tad scratchy. “Sleepy, I meant.”

Minjoo seems to consider it for a beat, then shakes her head. She pushes herself up, straightens her spine. Her long hair flows, over her shoulder and she absently combs them aside, mouth working without a sound like she’s thinking.

“But I don’t know if we—”

“What d’you think we should—”

They speak at the same time and pause almost simultaneously, eyes widening at each other with the corners of their lips curling up in weary amusement. Minjoo is the first to shake her head, sighing out and pressing a palm over her forehead.

“You—can go first,” Minjoo tentatively says.

Yuri swallows, nods. She pulls Eunbi’s plushie into her lap and twists , biting down on her lower lip.

“Remember when,” Yuri begins, slowly with a steady breath, “remember that one time we built a blanket fort, with Eunbi-unnie checking every few minutes to make sure that the candles wouldn’t burn anything?”

Minjoo sighs, smiling faintly. They did do that, once, during the… period where things were uncertain and they were cleared off from schedules for months. Wonyoung had proposed to build a blanket fort one day, saying that she wished she had added it to her bucket list, especially since it had been a dream of hers since she was little. It didn’t take a bucket list to get the unnie-line going, though, and Dorm 1’s living room was soon turned into a place for their big blanket fort in the matter of a few hours.

“I do. Yujin was so insistent about telling a horror story.”

“Someone farted,” Yuri recounted, snickering when Minjoo groans at the reminder. “God, it smelled so bad.”

“I’m pretty sure Kkura-unnie was this close to letting the fort burn,” Minjoo says, pressing her thumb and index finger together. “She said… what was it? It’s not worth dying from suffocation caused by someone’s wild digestive system.” She giggles at Yuri’s snicker-turned-laughter.

“That was gold,” Yuri wheezes.

“Manager-unnie didn’t let us send any mail about that though,”

“Right?” Yuri snorts, shaking her head with an air of immeasurable disappointment. “Shame.”

(Though, to be fair, they still have any semblance of image partly thanks to the staffs who have so kindly filtered their contents and reined back the wildest drafts.)

Minjoo’s mirth melts away after a bit, a smile still on her lips but this time without the genuine crinkle of her eyes. Yuri refuses to linger over it, so she lifts the bunny and taps the other’s shoulder with it,

“Your turn now. What’s on your mind?”

Minjoo purses her lips, pretending to be deep in thought. Or maybe she really is, weighing between answers. What’s on their mind? It’s hard to tell. Sometimes Yuri isn’t sure what she herself is thinking.

“I—” Minjoo starts, then pauses. She visibly swallows, like she’s reconsidering what she’s about to say. Yuri itches to reach out, to tell her to say it anyway, say whatever, because they don’t have time to spare for regrets. But she stays still and lets Minjoo think, starting to hum to herself with the tune of her OST.

(She isn’t strong enough to hum one of their songs.)

“Do you know the watermelon game?”

Yuri blinks, humming coming to a stop. She looks at Minjoo’s oddly determined expression and says, “What?”

“The watermelon game,” Minjoo slowly says, as if that would clue Yuri into something. When Yuri just keeps blinking at her, she adds, “Chaeyeon-unnie showed me a few of these—you’ll see, it’s pretty easy to play—and there’s one with our pictures, too. Let’s play it.”

“I would’ve gone to Yena-unnie’s room if I want to play a game,” Yuri states. But Minjoo loads the game on her phone anyway, scooting close to Yuri’s left, like she’s sure Yuri would end up playing too despite what she says. Sometimes Minjoo has an awful lot of confidence on Yuri’s inability to refuse her (tagging along to Busan is about the only thing Yuri still hasn’t relented on), and Yuri heaves an exaggerated sigh as Minjoo taps on her screen and releases a small ball.

Yuri squints at the circle containing a very pixelated picture of two people, hand casually sliding up to loop around Minjoo’s shoulders. “You sure that’s us?”

“Um! Let me show you.” Minjoo releases another ball of the same size, having it land on top of the first one. The two immediately blend into a slightly bigger ball upon contact, a faint pop accompanying the effect. “See?”

Yuri hums, nodding. “That one’s clearer. Not sure about the first.”

Minjoo laughs. “It’s taken from the same day, Yul. When—”

“When we did the ASMR video. I know.”

Minjoo releases a bigger ball, watching as it bounces a little then rolls towards the other ball. Yuri watches without a word for a while, snorting when Minjoo lets out a small yelp after tapping wrong, the biggest ball landing on top of the small ones and rendering them impossible to reach. It’s saved by the next ball, that is as big, and Minjoo relaxes a little as the game goes on from there.

(After a moment, Minjoo manages to form a ball rimmed with soft pink, filled with a picture of their 1st Look photoshoot, though Yuri is fairly sure they didn’t take a couple shot like that. She remembered posing as pictured in the photo, but not with Minjoo, so it’s probably edited and put together from their solo shots.

We look damn good, Yuri thinks faintly, tucking away the urge to tack on together at the end of the thought.)

“We should do that again sometime,” Minjoo mutters after a while.

Yuri blinks, glancing at Minjoo. Minjoo is still very seriously looking at her screen, searching for the best spot for a blue-rimmed ball. “That?”

“ASMR,” Minjoo explains, the edges of her lips quirking up even as she mistakenly drops the smallest ball between two giant ones. “You need to redeem yourself.”

Yuri sputters, pulling back. “Redeem my—I did just fine!”

“Everyone complained about the part where you bullied the mic with a brush,” Minjoo reminds her, her next breath puffing out like a laugh. “So—unfortunately, Yul, you still need to redeem yourself.”

Yuri scoffs, she can’t believe this slander. “I was trying to make things interesting,” she presses. “I am capable of doing ASMR well.” She leans into Minjoo’s space and starts to whisper, “Welcome to this impromptu A. S. M. R. Session. Currently, our master, our maestro, the one and only Kim Minjoo-sshi is trying to channel her artistic soul to churn out art comprised entirely of balls.”

Minjoo’s following cough sounds like a burst of laughter, and Yuri carries on, merciless.

“After the sneakers stunt—what can we expect? Another masterpiece, for sure, we can only anticipate with bated breath… oh look! A bold in the form of a firm tap. That big ball shouldn’t get there, definitely, but I am talking from the viewpoint of a commoner and Kim Minjoo-sshi no doubt has a grand plan in mind—”

“Yah!” Minjoo whines, elbowing her gently at the exaggerated call-out over her small mistake. Yuri grins and reaches out smoothly to tap on the screen, dooming Minjoo even further by dropping a green ball on a very inconvenient space meant for a smaller size.

The latter looks on in horror, gasps when the next ball is the perfect one to actually fit into said space, and tries to shove her away. “Yul! Oh my God, get out of my room—”

“Aww, you said to play together though.”

“It’s a mess now!”

Yuri laughs, leaning back and watching as Minjoo mutters endlessly while trying to salvage the game.

A few seconds later though, Minjoo lets out a devastated “Noooooo,” and the phone gives out a series of popping sounds. Yuri drapes over Minjoo again and takes in the final Game Over, the sentence ‘Click to view the score’ plastered under.

“600-ish,” Yuri sings. “Not bad. Indeed, Maestro Kim Minjoo, just who are y—”

“It’s your fault!”

Yuri cackles. “You played like, 90% of it—”

Minjoo twists slightly to face her, eyebrows furrowed and mouth pursed into a pout. “You,” she says, jabbing a finger to Yuri’s chest, “are a menace. Who gave you the right to bring up my sneakers??”

Her eyebrows rise. “I was just praising you though,” Yuri innocently replies.

“I’ll kick you out to Eunbi-unnie’s room,” Minjoo threatens.

“It’s okay to admit you’re not that good at the game, you know,” Yuri placatingly says, and Minjoo’s eyes widen like Yuri has just served her a plate of steaming audacity. Yuri glances at the screen again and smiles, jerking her chin towards it, “See, you managed to beat 43% of global players, though statistically that’d mean that you’re, like, below average—”

“Oh yeah?” Minjoo presses her phone onto Yuri’s palm, trying to glower but ending up looking like a puppy learning to look scary. “We’ll see how you do, then.”

Yuri grins.

*

(“This song got played in my dream last night,” Hitomi said, gruff but still in the soft way of hers.

They were inside the practice room that, for the day, was booked for Adult Ceremony practice. They had been giving it a try for three times by now, recording each one and fine-tuning the choreography they had managed to memorize. Currently, they were taking a break, bottles of water in their hand and heavy breathing filling the air.

Minjoo made a sympathetic sound at her plight and patted her knees. Yuri just droned “Rest in pieces,” while Nako stared unblinkingly at both Yuri and Minjoo for a long moment.

“What are you wearing?”

Yuri blinked, glancing down at her attire. It was, admittedly, a black shirt that’s a little revealing, her shoulders a bit defenseless against the air conditioner, but that was why she had gone there wearing a thick jacket zipped up to her neck.

“Well…” Minjoo said, hesitant and already glancing at Yuri when she lifted her head. “We’re… were, discussing about trying to get into the song yesterday.”

“Uh-huh,” Nako nodded, skeptical.

Minjoo continued slowly, “This song is… revealing.”

Hitomi made a confused noise.

“What Min meant to say is, this song has like—lyrics and melody that are enthralling in a… mature way,” Yuri asserted. “So the outfit would usually go for that vibe.”

Nako squinted at Minjoo’s crop top, expression thoughtful. “I… see…”

“Of course you can see, it’s literally a crop top,” Yuri said, and Minjoo made a move of slowly covering her midriff while shooting a scandalized look at Nako, who blinked rapidly.

“Hello?! Minjoo why are you looking at me like that—”

“Should we do the same for our next practice, then?” Hitomi cut through Nako’s question before Yuri could attempt a skit. Yuri frowned with disappointment, but Hitomi just smiled serenely at both Minjoo and her. “Do you feel anything different with those clothes on?”

Minjoo let out a questionable noise. Yuri her lips and wondered if Eunbi had the same problem with explaining her practice outfit choices to Sakura. Probably not, considering Sakura is a Reveluv and would have considered synching her outfit with ASeul’s Monster vibe without any prompting. Yuri glanced at Minjoo, wondering how she’d explain this, and then—

“I, well I—I don’t know if I’m y enough.”

Minjoo’s confession softly filled the air, uncertainty pulling her shoulders down. The lack of immediate response compelled her to hastily add, “I mean, that’s why I’m trying this. It might help and it’s, I need all the help I can get.”

Yuri exchanged a look with Hitomi and Nako, who looked right back at her like she’s the best candidate to assure Minjoo of her… iness. Which was ridiculous. She definitely couldn’t just give Minjoo a thumbs-up and confidently say You’re totes y ; not only would Minjoo not be convinced, Nako would remember this to bring up in the most inconvenient times like a variety show segment where she could clown her for all of South Korea to see, or something.

Yuri sighed, turning to face Minjoo. She poised a palm against her cheek, resting her elbow on her knee as she stared at the tall girl. As though planned, Hitomi and Nako mirrored her action, one elbow on their knees and palm on their cheeks as they tilted their heads towards Minjoo, who grew flustered after a few beats.

“What?”

“Do you not remember Rumor?” Yuri asked. “You’re the only one among us who did the stage first.”

“Yuri’s right,” Hitomi offered.

“That’s different,” Minjoo tried to counter.

“The point is,” Yuri cut in, “you’ve seen WIZ*ONEs having a collective meltdown over your parts in Rumor—"

“y parts,” Nako emphasized.

A small, amused grin curled on Hitomi’s lips. “That did happen, you have to admit.” At Minjoo’s slow nod, Hitomi chuckled. “Then you just have to do it again, right?”

Minjoo huffed out a breath, running exasperated fingers through her hair. Her ears were red from embarrassment, eyes flicking down as she said, “Rumor is still no Adult Ceremony.”

“No, I guess not,” Yuri agreed. Then she straightened up and flipped her hair over her shoulder, tipping her chin up. “It’s a song only us 01-liners can properly do right now.”

Hitomi snorted, shaking her head at the sudden display of coyness. Nako let out a slow and teasing ‘Oooh, Jo Yuri,’ while Minjoo looked at her like she had grown three heads. Yuri just arched her eyebrows at her, and Minjoo backed down by glancing over at Nako.

“Then,” Minjoo haltingly said, “since you’re—we’re—sure about this, I guess we just have to advance forward.”

“That a yes for the y practice outfits?” Nako asked with a gleam in her eyes.

“It won’t hurt to try,” Hitomi mused wonderingly.

“Just get Min to borrow something from Eunbi-unnie’s wardrobe for you,” Yuri suggested, bursting into laughter when Minjoo gasped at her with wide eyes, Nako cracking up next to her.

The conversation took off a bit from there, circling around fashion, then the song itself, and about how they had to present what they managed in front of the other members in two days. That topic got them to get up and start practicing again, going over the motions and recording a run to check and analyse every time.

Near the end of their practice, while watching their last recording of the day, Yuri leaned close to Minjoo and whispered to her ear, “Teach me how to do that gaze later.”

Minjoo furrowed her eyebrows, glancing at her. She mouthed, ‘what gaze?’

“The one where you look like you’re about to seduce the camera,” Yuri promptly replied, poorly contained smile breaking out at Minjoo’s following scoff. She gained a light shove on her shoulder for that, which compelled Nako and Hitomi to look over, but she just waved them away with a chuckle and watched as their attention returned to the video.

“You’re a menace,” Minjoo whispered back, but her cheekbones lifted high and she didn’t really look affronted.

“Yeah, and you’re too much a worrier,” Yuri replied, bumping their shoulders together. “You’ll rock y just fine.”

Minjoo’s eyes shone with wonder. “Yeah?”

Yuri believed so. “Yeah,” she replied, conveying the single syllable in what she hoped offered reassurance. Minjoo stared at her for a moment until she finally snorted, lightly nudging at her and gesturing at the recording again, and that was that.

That was that, the discussion, the chance at reassurance. That was that and they returned to the replay of their latest practice, but not without Yuri glimpsing a contented smile playing on Minjoo’s lips the whole time.)

*

It’s a shame, Yuri thinks, that not every night can be like this.

They’ve played the watermelon game enough times for Minjoo to sigh and close the tab after attempting another go at it but feeling too drained to even drop the first ball. The scores escape them, at that moment, Minjoo’s phone set aside and the both of them sprawling on their backs, staring up at the ceiling side by side. It’s useless anyway, because the scores don’t mean anything. It was just empty numbers given meaning by their need to keep the game going, continuing their bickering over balls and naughty hands.

(‘I’m telling Eunbi-unnie!’ Minjoo cried, shortly after Yuri remarked at her fantastic blunder with a click of her tongue, an unsure tilt of head, and a deeply thoughtful voice saying ‘This kind of move is… indeed, Kim Minjoo, just who are you?’

It was Yuri’s turn to indignantly sputter a few minutes later, Minjoo feigning a big yawn in the middle of Yuri’s play, spreading her arms wide apart that it knocked against her phone and causing Yuri to accidentally press on the wrong space.)

“Yul?”

Yuri drew away from her thoughts at the call, tilting her head to look at Minjoo. The latter is staring at the ceiling still, fingers laced on top of her stomach. Yuri makes an acknowledging hum, and Minjoo smiled slightly.

“Have you ever had a dream that continues some other night?”

Yuri hums again, this time a little questioning. “You mean like, dreaming about a universe you’ve dreamt about before? Like getting a second episode of that dream?”

Minjoo nods.

“I don’t think I have,” Yuri replies. “Have you?”

“Mhm.”

“How was it?”

“A little disconcerting,” Minjoo says. “Though to be fair, the dream wasn’t really good. I was in a zoo, confined to the monkeys’ closure with a pair of cymbals—honestly,” she chides at Yuri’s stifled chuckle, huffing. “But anyway, a zoo. The animals were... abused and displeased. They wanted to escape. So I had to help, of course, even though all I had was a pair of cymbals. We broke out at night.”

“Fascinating,” Yuri says.

“I whacked a security guard’s ears with them,” Minjoo says, shifting to look at her. “It was a very good pair of cymbals.”

Yuri grins at her, gaining a smile in return.

“What’s the last update?”

“We just realized that the sloths were left behind, I think,” Minjoo says, and Yuri barks out a laugh. Minjoo rolls her eyes, but her smile doesn’t fade. “A group of us took a U-turn, because ohana means family and family means nobody gets left behind. Lilo & Stitch existed in that dream’s universe too, apparently.”

“Absolutely riveting,” Yuri nods. “Please don’t forget the turtles, too.”

Minjoo sighs, rubbing her temples as if to ward off a building headache. “I’m sure it’ll be the next episode’s conflict now that you told me.” She glances at her, “Maybe you will be one of the turtles.”

“I’m so sorry in advance ‘cause turtle me will just be sleeping,” Yuri says, not sounding sorry at all. Minjoo snorts and reaches over to pinch her arm, snickering when she yelps. “I am being bullied,” Yuri gasps.

“It’s just a pinch,”

“Let me pinch you back then!”

Minjoo rolls away from her in an admirable speed, almost falling off the bed even. Unbelievable, really. For someone so capable of exuding an air of grace on stage, Minjoo sure isn’t above resorting to cheap escape tricks to prevent justice from being served.

“Come back here,” Yuri commands with a sigh, rolling her eyes when Minjoo raises the pillow as though to shield herself. “Yah, Kim Minjoo! I’m not gonna pinch you back—”

“Promise?”

“God, yeah. Just roll over here, stupid. You’re gonna fall and injure yourself a day after concert that way,” Yuri wiggles a finger. “And then I’ll have to inform WIZ*ONEs through PM, would you want that?”

“No,” Minjoo quickly says, scrambling over. “You’re just going to write another novel and slander my name,” Minjoo accuses, huffing. Yuri snorts to herself, but waits patiently for the latter’s weight to return by her side, her warmth pressing up her shoulder again.

It really is a shame, Yuri thinks, that not every night can be like this.

But the repeating thought brings back a creeping warmth to her nose, and she tries her best to swallow it all down with a slow breath. Not again. Not so soon, after they got to laugh and fool around just now. So she parts her lips and focuses her mind into asking,

“Why did you ask though? About continuing dreams.”

Minjoo hums, shifting down to sort of lean her head on Yuri’s shoulder. The act sends a flurry of tingles across Yuri’s chest, and she resists the urge to turn her head, refrain herself from pressing her lips into Minjoo’s hair.

“Sometimes I wish we were that.”

Yuri’s brows furrow. “Excuse me?”

Minjoo sighs, fingers sliding in and seeking for Yuri’s. Yuri lets it happen, the slow entwining of their fingers tugging at her heart, and when Minjoo squeezes her hand, she feels it to the thudding of her pulse.

“Sometimes I wish,” Minjoo quietly says, “that we’re an occurring dream. Because that way, even if this—” she swallows thickly, her hold of Yuri’s hand tightening. “Even if this were to end, all I have to do is retire to bed for the night and we might get to be us again.”

Yuri’s breath hitches. She expels a shaky breath and says roughly, “You don’t know that.”

At Minjoo ensuing silence she lightens her voice and elaborates, “I mean, you’ve no way of knowing when the dream will come back, right? Maybe it’ll take a year, or more. Maybe you’ve got to go through months of boring dreams first…”

“And it would be worth it,” Minjoo answers without missing a beat.

Yuri sighs inwardly, closing her eyes. Damn Kim Minjoo and her earnest thoughts.

“Maybe—” Yuri swallows, biting down on her lower lip. She dislikes offering a hope she isn’t confident about, but Minjoo is glancing up at her and Yuri really wants to ease the vulnerable sheen in her eyes. The same vulnerability she sees in herself, too, ache pulsing with every heave of her chest. So perhaps it’s also for her own sake that she mutters,

“Maybe we’ll get to be us again, someday.”

There’s a fleeting quiver on Minjoo’s lips. Like she doesn’t believe it but wants to humour themselves by pretending to. Minjoo nods after a beat, and huffs out a faint chuckle.

“I don’t know why I’m taking this so hard. It’s not like we’ll stop meeting each other…”

“We’re all taking this hard, I think,” Yuri assures her, smiling slightly. “Even Kkura-unnie, and we know she’s been preparing herself ever since our group was formed.”

“She loves us.”

“That she does.” After two years living together and being subjected to Sakura’s own brand of expressing worry and affection, that much is clear to them. Yuri brings their entwined hands up, and wraps her other hand over them.

She glances at Minjoo, “And you’re right, you know. We won’t stop meeting each other.”

“I sure hope so,” Minjoo quietly says, and it’s probably the way she says it—expression downcast and eyebrows furrowed tightly—that makes Yuri recall her words from the last ment before she can stop herself.

(“I was used to being alone.

“I was used to not having people to take care of me. But now thinking of going back to being alone, I wonder what it would be like…”)

The lump in grows, and she feels a little choked up as she exhales. “You won’t be alone, you know.”

Minjoo stills for the briefest moment, and Yuri aches at the rush of affection she has for the person next to her. She holds herself back from hugging her, settling with quietly picking on her fingers instead.

“I’m serious, Min. You won’t. As long as you don’t, like, block our numbers or something… we’ll still be there.”

A faint sniff fills the air. “It won’t be the same.”

It won’t. She’s right, of course it won’t. Yuri feels her sight blur but she inhales deeply, blinking out the wetness in her eyes. She picks on Minjoo’s pinky finger, uncurling it gently with a hook of her own index finger.

“It won’t,” Yuri agrees, because she can’t lie, and she refuses to offer it when it’s not what Minjoo needs. So instead she continues with a degree of softness she doesn’t wear often, “But I’ll still try to be as obnoxious of a presence in your life, if you’d let me.”

Minjoo stifles a weak chuckle. “You’re hardly obnoxious.”

“Say that when I messaged you to open your window at midnight,” Yuri snorts.

“To give me a pack of Samgyeopsal jellies?”

“No,” she says, huffing out a laugh at the reminder of a stupid stunt she once did. “Just to bother you out of the blue, really. Or whatever.”

Minjoo glances down at their hands, her pinky finger still twirled between Yuri’s digits. Yuri follows her gaze, noticing what she’s seeing, and with a slow exhale of a breath, she hooks her own pinky finger around Minjoo’s and tightens it gently.

“There,” Yuri says.

“What was that, exactly?” Minjoo asks, sounding amused.

“A promise to bug the Hell out of you.” Yuri lets go, both of Minjoo’s pinky finger and her hand entirely, and the descend of Minjoo’s hand is purposefully slow. Like she’s waiting to see if Yuri would hold it again. It’s tempting, but Yuri contents herself with staring. “As long as you don’t, like, file a restraining order on me.” She then makes a show of glancing over to squint suspiciously at her. “You won’t, will you?”

Minjoo hums. “Can I report you as a missing person if you haven’t been around for long?”

“You know I’m probably just asleep,” Yuri says, and then at Minjoo’s sharp glare she relents, “Fine, fine. I’ll try to not disappear. Really. I—” Yuri falters.

“You…?”

Inhale.

Exhale.

Yuri thinks of really doing that for a second, visiting Minjoo out of the blue wherever she is, at 2 AM (or a little earlier if she’s being realistic, probably 8 PM or so really,) with a bag of snack or pockets full of intentions to bother the taller girl. She thinks of really doing that, and what she feels next is a churning realization that she will do that not only for Minjoo’s sake, no.

Because she knows she will thread the hundred steps to Minjoo’s place not solely to make Minjoo feel less lonely. Because she knows she will take such an impulsive move because her heart would be heavy with want to see her again. Because she—

“I’m bad at being alone, too,” Yuri finally says in a hushed whisper.

(Because she will miss her.)

Minjoo’s eyes soften, head burrowing deeper to the crook of Yuri’s neck as though to answer her remark with a reassurance that she isn’t alone, and Yuri is thankful for the comfort because—because no matter how reassuring Yuri tries to be, she is also so, so scared. She is just as scared of the hurt she feels about all this, just as vulnerable over the thoughts of waking up someday to a place no longer packed with 11 other girls.

This is her trying to believe in whatever she’s saying to Minjoo, because she wouldn’t know how to carry on otherwise.

Because if Minjoo isn’t willing to believe in the continued existence of them in the future, Yuri wouldn’t know how to even begin trying in the first place.

*

(She so regretted this already, and it hadn’t even been 10 minutes.

With left hand shoved deeply into the pocket of her thick jacket, Yuri pursed her lips at the phone in her hand, thumb hovering over Minjoo’s contact. She’s standing in front of the other dorm, shifting her weight from one foot to another, feeling decidedly stupid over the anxiety crawling under her skin.

This is Minjoo, she thought firmly, just Minjoo. What am I freaking out for?

She sighed, finally pressing her thumb down and dialling the number. She stepped back, tilting her head up as the call rang and then—

“Oh, Minjoo-yah.”

She felt herself flush from hearing the latter’s voice from the other end, her left hand digging even more deeper, fingers clutching at a plastic bag of something that she had stuffed into her pocket. “Where are you?”

She tried her best to take long breaths, calming herself as she listened to Minjoo’s answer.

“I’m in front of your dorm,” Yuri slowly said, heartbeat picking up. “Come out now, hurry.”

She ended the call with a swift tap of her thumb afterwards, groaning inwardly at what she had said. She probably shouldn’t have told Minjoo to hurry. She needed a moment to prepare herself still, even though it’s silly that she even needed such time for Minjoo of all people when she was literally the least intimidating person in the group.

God, this was getting ridiculous. She’s going to lock herself up inside the room forever after this and—

A beep sounded, and then the door opened. Yuri nearly choked on air over a pitiful attempt to get a breath in, and Minjoo peered out from the door, blinking at her when their gazes met.

“Hello,” Yuri hoarsely said.

Minjoo’s eyebrows rose. “Hi?” she replied, blinking again when Yuri just swayed a little on her feet. She looked up and down at Yuri, gaze settling on the hands Yuri shoved into her pockets, “…Are you hiding something?”

“No! …I mean yes, but nothing illegal I swear.”

Minjoo’s dubiousness grew. “What—”

“Just,” Yuri cut in, bulldozing past her poor word choices and pulling out the plastic bag she had long held, ing it towards Minjoo. “Just take this.”

Minjoo blinked rapidly, reaching out to take it from Yuri’s hand. She made a confused noise and opened the bag to peer at its content, the noise slowly turning into that of a realization.

Bright eyes snapped back up to Yuri’s. “You bought me jellies,” Minjoo breathed out, a wide smile crossing her face.

Yuri coughed, wringing her hands awkwardly. “Samgyeopsal jellies,” she corrected, feeling her entire head heating up. “Since I… can’t take you out for that meat promise yet. So consider this a consolation, or whatever.”

“Doesn’t sound like whatever to me,” Minjoo said, head tilting and smile turning teasing. “Ohooooo. Why do you look so shy, Yul?”

“I do not, shut up—”

“Do you want to come in?” Minjoo brightly said, stepping aside. “We can eat the jellies together.”

What a lovely idea but absolutely not. Yuri didn’t think she can survive staying in Minjoo’s presence so soon after this excruciatingly embarrassing stunt she just pulled. “I kinda promised Nako to be her moral support while she tries to cook jjapaguri for dinner,” so Yuri said, not entirely lying. Nako did plan to cook jjapaguri, but her moral support would be Chaeyeon, honestly.

Minjoo nodded, humming in understanding despite of the lie. “Okay then, please tell Nako be careful from me.”

“Bit rich coming from the inventor of Suspicious Spam Slices herself,” Yuri couldn’t help but tease back. Minjoo whined at that, giving Yuri’s shoulder a light slap, and Yuri chuckled heartily over it, laughing outright when Minjoo threatened to not thank her for the jellies.

Minjoo still did, anyway, thanking her, because she was kinder than that. The taller girl really needed to learn to stick to her threats better.

“Thank you for going through all the trouble to buy me this, Yul,” Minjoo said, smiling fondly after all the bickering had gone out of their system.

Then again, Yuri thought, those weak threats were what made her Minjoo, and she liked her just the way she was.

“Just give me a break from the meat debt for a bit,” Yuri replied, saluting cheekily at her before stalking off. She knew Minjoo would take in her words as what they actually were: you’re welcome. Don’t mention it.

I’m glad you liked it.

She breathed out on her way back to her own dorm, rubbing her palms over her face. Her cheeks still felt hot, as were her ears, but pinpricks of warmth bloomed across her chest and, well.

Guess Kim Minjoo was someone worth getting embarrassed over.)

*

It must’ve meant something, Yuri thinks, that she’s capable of staying up until the night sky starts to regain colour merely by talking with Minjoo. Their conversation flits from everything and nothing, switching from teases and confessions, sprinkled all over with light slaps or grounding touches. Sometimes it hurts, their talk, but only the kind that makes Yuri aware that not everyone can unearth this extent of feelings from her, that Minjoo is someone that means something.

(Deep inside, right in the room of her heart where Minjoo’s warmth fills it to the brim, Yuri thinks she knows what this something is.)

They have started to yawn though, words dragged on ends and energy dipping low. So Yuri doesn’t dwell on that, on the tickle inside her ribcage that wants her to look at what she has with Minjoo even closer. They have moved and shifted throughout their talk, Minjoo no longer tucked under Yuri’s head. They aren’t snuggled up anymore, but they have their heads on the pillows with bodies facing each other, a result of an impromptu staring contest (that Minjoo won but only because she blew on Yuri’s eyes, that cheater).

Said cheater is smiling, posture slightly curling up. A twitch of her lips and then she’s yawning again, prompting Yuri to follow, too, science of chain reactions and all that. They are both exhausted, clearly, inside and out.

Yuri snaps shut after the wide, long yawn, sighing quietly as she reaches for Minjoo’s blanket to tug over them. She hears Minjoo’s soft apology for yawning and shakes her head, huffing lightly because Minjoo is being ridiculous.

“’s not like you can help it,” Yuri says. She pulls the blanket until it covers Minjoo’s shoulders, the latter peering up at her with a fond smile. Yuri swallows, shifting. She thinks of Minjoo’s easy reply when she asked if she could crash and quietly says, “Min? Thank you for being here.”

Minjoo sniffs, and Yuri stills for a moment, a flicker of panic gripping her at the thought that Minjoo is going to cry again. But Minjoo thankfully doesn’t, only wiping at her nose and nodding. Shiny eyes lift and look at her,

“Thank you too. You have no idea for how many things.”

Yuri relaxes to her pillow, chuckling weakly. Her stomach feels like it’s home to a few fluttery butterflies, but she only says, “Man, I’m tired of crying.”

“Me too,” Minjoo agrees. “But it’s okay. We’ll smile a lot tomorrow, right?”

“Hmm? It’s already tomorrow.”

“Today, tomorrow. You know what I meant.” Minjoo huffs, jabbing a finger at her shoulder under the covers. “Semantics. Honestly, Yul.”

Yuri attempts to grin, but falters as another yawn escapes her. Minjoo laughs quietly, hand appearing from under the blanket to cross the distance between them and lightly pinch Yuri’s nose.

“Let’s sleep.”

The part of Yuri’s nostrils that isn’t pinched by Minjoo’s hand flares faintly, causing the latter to let go. Yuri raises her eyebrows and drawls, “Oooh, inviting me to sleep together already? You’re so forward, Kim Minjoo-sshi. At least take me out on a date first.”

Minjoo gapes at her for a beat, but she’ll recover quick and hit her for trying to do a skit at this ungodly hour, Yuri is sure. Any second now, really… but Minjoo’s lips merely close up, jaw tightening, and instead of a fast scolding—is that a flush on her cheeks? Is she flustered?

Yuri swallows, cheeks heating up—flustered over Minjoo’s fluster. “Yah—”

Her words are cut off by a bunny plushie to her face. “Stupid  Yul,” she hears Minjoo say, and when she yanks the bunny away from her sight Minjoo has already turned around, back facing her. “Go to sleep.”

Yuri blinks, wondering if she’s already dreaming, actually, and it’s why Minjoo looks… shy, over a joke about going on a date with her. It’s not like the members never refer to any mundane activity done by two people as a date. Hyewon has taken every member out on a meal date by now, she’s pretty sure. Yena and Chaewon have also gone to a skateboard date, where they just… skated. Hell, even Nako and Hitomi called their grocery run a date.

“Min?” Yuri calls, the lump in front of her unmoving. She huffs. “I know you’re still awake, it hasn’t even been a minute. You’re not me.”

Silence descends, Minjoo staying very still.

Yuri pouts. “If you’re against going on a date with me that much, you can just say so, you know.”

A small huff sounds. “Go to sleep, seriously.”

“I want to take you out on a date,” Yuri lightly presses, wondering what it will take to get Minjoo to face her again. “Go on a date with me, we can’t just sleep together once and be done with—”

“Yul.”

Yuri snaps shut.

Minjoo’s posture heaves, like it’s taking a great deal of energy for her to respond to Yuri, and Yuri feels a little bad for starting this whole thing. She considers clarifying, reassuring that it’s just a meal together, of course, not a date date, but she is then reminded of their mutual fluster a moment ago and—

“Sleep on it,” Minjoo quietly says.

Yuri blinks. “What?”

“Sleep on it.” Minjoo doesn’t turn around, but her voice softens, no longer weighed with a plea for her to shut up. “If you still want to go on a date when we wake up, we’ll… think about it.”

Yuri blinks again.

She thinks she might’ve heard her wrong.

(Because Minjoo’s voice is laced with a degree of hesitation that makes her sound serious, and a serious date would be—)

“Okay?” Minjoo asks after a suspenseful silence, and Yuri swallows her questions down.

“Okay, sure.”

She feels her lips curl up into a small smile as her mind repeats, a date. She burrows her head deeper into the pillow, wondering what's in Minjoo's mind, but the sun has stirred and they’re in desperate need of sleep.

So she stares at Minjoo’s back, her smile turning into one riddled with affection, affection Minjoo thankfully won’t be able to see from that position. “Good night, Min,” she whispers.

(And if a part of said affection leaks through her words at that fleeting moment, then well.

She’s only human.)

A few seconds pass, and Minjoo’s figure shifts a little. A dragged out hum fills the air, heavy with sleepiness.

“Good night, Yul,” Minjoo finally replies then, equally as soft. Yuri captures the voice carefully, gingerly holding onto it as she nods off. She would’ve liked if they were a little closer, but it’s still warm, like this. It’s warm whenever Minjoo is close by.

If only that warmth would never be taken away.

*

(“Nako?”  Yuri blinked, stepping into their shared room and squinting at where her roommate was: in her own bunk, lying on her stomach, scrolling away at her phone with her other hand holding a pen over an open note. Yuri took in the view once again before asking, “What are you doing?”

Nako looked up at the question, blinking a few times at her before smiling wide. “Just noting down a few Animal Crossing tips online!”

“Oh my God,” Yuri exhaled, vaguely horrified. “We really are losing you to the gamers.”

“And we’re losing you to Minjoo’s practice bug tendency,” said Nako without missing a beat. She looked down onto her notes again, jotting down something, but the outpour of her wise words hadn’t ended yet. “Such is life, Jo Yuri. At least I don’t have to make Jayoung-unnie drive me back from the practice room this late.”

“Maybe you should, didn’t she steal a cup of your ice cream?”

Nako’s pen slipped from her hand, wide eyes shooting up at Yuri.

“…Or maaaybe it wasn’t yours,” Yuri slowly amended, grinning. “Probably Hii-chan’s, or Chaeyeon-unnie’s. Hopefully Chaeyeon-unnie, really, she's Mother Theresa enough to not mind, after all.”

“Yah! Stop throwing baseless information about my ice cream,” Nako huffed. “I almost yelled. This is why Saku-chan keeps thinking we’re fighting all the time!”

Yuri just laughed, walking towards her wardrobe. She picked out comfortable clothes to change into, the sweat from her long practice with Minjoo clinging onto her back. The AC barely helped her from feeling gross, and she needed to refresh herself before she could even begin to relax.

She went to shower with Nako apparently watching a youtube video on Animal Crossing tips, and walked out of shower to Nako still watching a youtube video, though this time it seemed to be a playthrough of a racing game. Must be another thing Yena or Hyewon introduced to her, Yuri thought, putting her dirty clothes inside the laundry basket.

After a moment, she joined Nako by gingerly sitting on the edge of the latter’s bunk. She watched Nako watching the video, then peeked at the notes Nako had abandoned but already the page was almost filled up with scribbled instructions about… turnip prices…? And some other things. Yuri was sure she glimpsed the word tarantula, and she really didn’t want to know, no thanks.

She drew away, and only then did she notice Nako’s sidelong glance at her. She lifted her eyebrows, tilting her head. “What is it?”

“You aren’t allowed to leak the tips I got to Hii-chan,” Nako seriously said.

Yuri blinked, mouth opening and closing soundlessly for a bit. She reached out for a pillow Nako didn’t use and nudged the latter’s with it. “Man, you two are oddly competitive over weird things.”

“Blame Saku-chan,” Nako sang, unbothered, returning her attention to the video. “She fanned the flames.”

A smile worked its way across Yuri’s lips. “Of course she did.”

Sakura and Nako, Yuri knew that the two of them had this special layer exclusively existing in their bond. They had a special bond with Hitomi, too, being the only three members to have to be so very far away from home, both in physical means and in language, but Sakura and Nako’s relationship ran a bit deeper than that. They were already in the same group way before Produce, and it meant… well, it meant that when they had to leave HKT48 behind to participate in the programme, they had to be let go of the same important group of people, and that ought to forge something uniquely theirs. Hitomi’s case… she was a bit like this; even if Yujin, Wonyoung, and Yuri all had to leave their fellow trainees behind to debut with IZ*ONE, Yuri’s experience in having to let go of Sian and Gyuri wouldn’t exactly be the same with Yujin and Wonyoung’s experience in having to advance without Gahyeon.

These thoughts made her head throb a little. But Yuri liked to think about this kind of thing, sometimes, trying to pinpoint the difference in how one member interacts with two different people, and appreciating that all these bonds formed IZ*ONE, giving colours to the many hours they spent with each other, recorded or not.

Yuri furrowed her eyebrows, biting down her lower lip.

Another thing she inevitably thought about was about how someday… there’d be a day where they, too, would have to let go of each other.

“Yuri?”

Yuri blinked, glancing at Nako. The latter had turned her phone off, moving to sit and stretching lightly. She had seemingly finished her youtube binge-watching, and Yuri shot her a questioning look.

“Yeah?”

Nako hummed. “What are you thinking so seriously about? Your eyebrows were like this—” Nako scrunched up her forehead exaggeratedly, lips pursing into a pout. She then beamed, “Scary, scary.”

Yuri let out a brief laugh, swinging the pillow in her hold to slap Nako’s face—slow enough, of course, to get blocked triumphantly by the latter. “I didn’t look like that!”

“You so did!”

Yuri huffed, but didn’t raise to the urge to yell something back. Sakura did deserve a break from always barging into their room worried that a fight had broken out. Instead, she pulled at the pillow now laying dormant in her lap, thinking over what she had been thinking.

And then, “How did you—deal with having to leave HKT back then, Nako?”

Nako blinked at her. For a moment, Yuri considered slapping her own mouth and promising to rinse it with soap, but then Nako hummed lightly, and Yuri felt less stupid.

“How did I deal with…” Nako tapped her chin, gaze traveling upwards and eyebrows furrowing. “Through a lot of self-motivation, I guess?”

“Yeah?”

Nako looked at her again and nodded. “Mhm. And… our members, they supported us a lot.”

It felt a little weird, hearing our members but knowing it meant something other than IZ*ONE. But Yuri kept it to herself, tucking the feeling away for later thought, and nodded at Nako to continue.

So Nako did.

“Even when Saku-chan and I had doubts, they would reassure us. Not only during the programme, but after we debuted, too. Well Saku-chan… doesn’t really share much when she’s struggling, does she?”  Yuri snorted, and Nako grinned. “Yeah, let’s shake our heads at her. S M H Saku-chan, always so stubborn… but anyway! I did come to them a few times because—well, they knew me the longest. If they believed I can do something, it must be really possible. Right?”

Yuri thought of Sian’s genuine cheer, Gyuri’s light-hearted way of offering reassurance. She thought of Yoojung’s occasional message of support, too, and felt like she understood a bit.

“I see.”

Nako nodded. “And I guess it felt like..., you know how when you left home to go to school, you knew that your home would still be there when you came back?”  At Yuri’s nod, Nako smiled. “It felt like that, to me. It was hard but I managed, because they would still be there when I come back.”

A question rose up , but Yuri pressed her lips together. She looked down and picked at the pillow again, pinching the cushion, mulling over Nako’s words. Because… home, home was—

“Even though it’s a little weird now, because you guys also feel like home.”

Yuri looked up at that, eyes wide. Nako was still smiling, but this time there was a glint of understanding in her gaze, like she had successfully puzzled out Yuri’s intention behind the question.

“I mean,” Yuri said, clearing . “Having two homes sounds cool.”

Nako snorted, reaching out to poke at the pillow Yuri was holding. “It does.”

“Would have to miss twice as much, though,” Yuri mused, pulling the pillow away from Nako’s reach. “’Cause like, you’d miss the first home when you’re at the second, and miss the second home when you’re at the first.”

“Mhm,” Nako hummed in agreement. She then gave Yuri a meaningful look, “But you wouldn’t run out its love, either.”

Nako was right, of course. Still, Yuri scrunched her nose, replaying the words in her head. She thought about Nako, lightly admitting that they—IZ*ONE—felt like home. She thought back to her talk with Yoojung above ISAC sport tracks by the sitting rows, ‘You’ve considered them home, haven’t you?’

Yuri swallowed.

She knew she would think back to this moment a lot, to Nako’s words, mulling over home and the meaning this one word held. Nako pulled the pillow towards herself and Yuri let go, watching as it got squished by Nako’s hands.

“Say,” Nako said, “any chance you’re hungry? I’m famished.”

And Yuri exhaled a breath that could pass off as a brief laughter, momentarily letting go of the thoughts plaguing her mind. “Come on then,” she said, getting up from Nako’s bunk. “Chaeyeon-unnie stored some soup we could heat up, I’m pretty sure.”

“We should message Hii-chan,” Nako suggested, scrambling up. “Coax her into eating too. She’d ask Chaeyeon-unnie about what’s edible in the fridge out of habit, and then because Chaeyeon-unnie has a soft spot for Hii-chan, she’d come to the kitchen to cook us another side dish.”

Yuri paused, staring a tad incredulously at her. “…You’re such a schemer,” she said after a beat, and Nako just puffed her chest proudly, already unlocking her phone to carry out the proposed mission.

Yuri relented to her scheme, of course, dutifully opening the 01-liners group chat and chiming in after Nako sent the first message. Minjoo popped up faster than Hitomi did, sounding confused over their decision to have dinner this late, and Yuri grinned at the frog meme Nako immediately sent into the chat.

‘Yabuki Nako,’ Minjoo sternly replied, or tried to. She was less intimidating in text, which said a lot considering she could barely intimidate anyone face to face.

Hitomi thankfully popped up a moment later, Nako eagerly delivering her attack without wasting even a second. ‘Hii-chan, are you not hungry??? Let’s eat,’  Nako immediately sent. Her scheming carried on even after they exited their room, walking towards the kitchen, and Yuri watched with a smile on her lips, the smile only growing when Hitomi joined them minutes after, Chaeyeon appearing with a fond sigh as predicted a few moments later. Sakura had decided to tag along, too, plopping easily onto a chair, and Wonyoung ambled into the now merry room after apparently spamming Chaeyeon’s phone asking what’s the noisy sounds coming from the kitchen.

Yuri watched them, thought back to Nako’s words, and cradled the comfortable warmth encasing her heart.

She watched the people she called home.)

*

It’s warm, Yuri thinks, her surroundings.

She tries to move but is held in place, so she tries to blink her eyes from darkness to something a little brighter, pieces of lights blurring up then gradually sharpening as her sight comes into focus.

And what she sees is a neck.

She feels the arms looped around her next, and long strands of hair tickling at her cheek. She glances up, careful to not move too much, and all she can do is take in Minjoo’s sleeping expression with a slow blink of her eyes.

Oh.

She swallows, averting her gaze to look at their positions. Somehow, throughout the hours spent unconscious, Minjoo had turned around and scooted close enough to pull Yuri towards her, then enveloping her into a hug. That, or Minjoo simply flipped over and Yuri just happened to… roll over, into her embrace. Seeking heat and all. It’s plausible, considering the blanket Yuri remembered falling asleep under is no longer covering them, discarded away somewhere—probably to the foot of the bed. It could've gotten cold at some point, and Yuri’s survival instinct brought herself close to the only other source of warmth.

Yuri takes a slow breath in, settling back. So that’s why it’s warm, she thinks, then feels her cheeks heat up.

It feels nice, though.

Minjoo’s hug feels nice.

“Your arm’s gonna get sore later,” Yuri mumbles, glancing at the hand she’s currently lying on.

As though hearing her words, Minjoo produces an unintelligible hum, nose twitching a little. Yuri quickly shuts her eyes, relaxing her posture to feign being asleep. She listens carefully to Minjoo’s breathing, the slight disturbance in her next inhale, the slow movement of the hand not weighed by Yuri’s body.

“…Mmm…?”

Yuri doesn’t open her eyes, taking in the warmth instead. While she could, while she still has time. Because it will end soon enough, surely, since Minjoo is stirring awake. It will end in a bit. In a few seconds.

She waits for that moment, for Minjoo to wake. For Minjoo to pull away, for Minjoo to wake her, too.

(Except her warmth stays, lulling, and when Yuri drifts back into its comfort, dozing off again, she barely has the mind to wonder why Minjoo doesn’t wake.)

*

It’s a little cold, Yuri thinks, to wake up to half the bed being empty and the blanket folded up neatly on top of the pillow where Minjoo should be.

She rolls onto her back and squints at the ceiling, trying to get her bearing first. Without Minjoo’s warmth, going back to sleep doesn’t seem as enticing, and what time is it even… ah,  5:30 PM.

No wonder.

Yuri huffs, running one palm over her face. She reaches blindly for her phone, recalling that she had shoved it under the pillow before falling asleep. Easily retrieving the gadget, she unlocks it and goes through the notification filling up her screen. There’s a few messages from Chaeyeon, nagging a little about not finding her at breakfast, then a worried ask over not finding her at lunch, and lastly an amused text telling her to just come back whenever she wakes up. ‘I’ll cook you bean sprout ramyeon,’ Chaeyeon has sent, and Yuri can’t help but smile at the care Chaeyeon tirelessly gives them.

Guess she better return, now.

She goes out of Minjoo’s room, halting in her steps in case she can spot the latter, but she isn’t around. So she stumbles into the bathroom, washing her face. When she reaches into her pocket, she spots her facemask and well, might as well wear it now.

She exits the bathroom and walks towards the living room, smoothening the creases in her clothes so she wouldn’t look too fresh out of bed. There are noises, though, coming from the living room, so Yuri braces herself as she steps into the room.

“Oh! Yuri-yah!”

The first voice to call her name is Yena, entirely too energetic this early into… evening……...

Never mind. Yena’s energy is appropriate, it’s not her fault Yuri’s system still considers it morning.

Yuri straightens up, waving at the greeting. The occupants of the dorm are sitting together but doing separate things, Yena with her games next to Hyewon and Yujin while Chaewon is typing seriously into her phone, God knows what and to whom. Minjoo is watching something in her phone, with Eunbi, their activity momentarily halted because the latter moves to stand after Yena’s announcement of Yuri’s presence.

“Yuri! Have you eaten?” Eunbi asks her, walking close. Yuri shakes her head and Eunbi hums. “Then do you want to—”

“Pretty sure Chaeyeon’s gonna cook her something,” Hyewon chimes in from the floor, without looking. “Probably the bean sprout ramyeon, God I want to eat that again—”

“You’ve eaten it?” Yuri can’t help but ask, wide-eyed. The fact that someone from another dorm gets to eat Chaeyeon’s dish before her is atrocious.

“The early bird gets the bean sprout ramyeon, Yul,” Minjoo says, and Yuri can’t hold herself back from looking over at that. Their gazes meet easily, Minjoo’s lips curving up into a wide smile that she always does whenever she successfully does a jab at Yuri, and Yuri rolls her eyes.

“Okay, this late bird is going to get her worm, then.” She turns to face Eunbi and assures her that Chaeyeon has already promised to cook her food, and she’s about to bid them goodbye when Yujin visibly perks up from her seat and says,

“Oh! Yuri-unnie! Have you checked PM?”

Yuri blinks, pausing. “…No?” She isn’t sure if she should check PM, to be honest. She feels like everyone is going to be pretty emotional today, and last night has exhausted her thoroughly on that front.

At the thought, her gaze flickers to Minjoo, who is studiously looking at her own phone.

“Aww,” Yujin says, drawing Yuri’s attention back on her. “You should check soon! You’ve got a message.”

Yuri hums questioningly. It might be Chaeyeon, right? It won’t be the first time Chaeyeon has taken to complain about her dormmates on PM (not that they didn’t deserve it on those cases, plus Chaeyeon is always doing it affectionately). Or maybe it’s Nako…

“Okay, I’ll check,” Yuri nods, deciding to just find out later. Maybe while she’s waiting for Chaeyeon to cook. She hangs back and smiles beneath her facemask, gaze sweeping around and lingering a little longer on Minjoo until the latter lifts her head to meet her eyes. “I’ll see you guys later!”

“Bye Yuri-yah!!”

“Take care, Unnie!”

“Eat well!”

“Could you ask Chaeyeon if she’d like to cook me a second—”

“Be quiet, Hyewon. Say hi to your dorm from us!”

Minjoo just smiles, waving her goodbye.

Yuri goes to the door, opening it, and leaves.

*

It's ridiculous, Yuri thinks, Kim Minjoo.

She’s now sitting by the living room of her own dorm, ushered there by Chaeyeon and being told to wait for the ramyeon to finish cooking. So she’s decided to open the PM app as per Yujin’s request earlier, and embarrassingly enough, immediately clicked on Minjoo’s newest message.

Good thing she did, apparently.

Because the message Yuri allegedly got isn’t from Chaeyeon, nor Nako. It’s from the one and only Kim Minjoo, tattling to WIZ*ONEs that Yuri was sleeping on her bed so that she had to share half the space.

‘I didn’t even get to sleep well…’

Yuri snorts. Liar, she thinks, and continues reading.

‘Just kidding, it was so warm while sleeping.’

And Yuri stares at that line for a considerable amount of time.

(Because wasn’t it so warm? Minjoo seems to feel the same, too, but to what extent?)

Yuri takes a deep breath, a smile painted on her lips—and it falters briefly when she realizes that she is smiling. She honestly has been a little disappointed to wake up alone, though she knows she has no right to demand Minjoo to stay there until she woke up. Especially since she’s such a sleepyhead who’s capable enough to sleep a whole day away.

But look what Minjoo’s doing anyway.

That subtle disappointment, Minjoo somehow managed to turn into a smile and an embarrassing warmth just through a mail. The act of admitting to someone—a lot of someones—else that they spent the night together and the easy teasing of not being able to sleep well, these two things cause Yuri to huff, the taps of her thumbs across her screen powered by amusement laced with fondness she doesn’t yet dare to show too much.

(Hence why she sends an answering mail with a familiar retaliation; ‘Minjoo-yah, it’s not you who have to put up with my sleeping,, it’s me who have to put up with you,’ but not without making sure to praise Chaeyeon’s ramyeon first.)

When her phone vibrates with a notification from kakaotalk, Hitomi has joined her around the table, letting out a sigh that indicates that she has clearly read both Minjoo and her mails.

“You two, really,” Hitomi disapprovingly says.

“Let them be,” Chaeyeon snickers, face looking a little puffy but then so is everyone else. “WIZ*ONEs enjoy it. It’s entertaining to watch.”

Yuri smiles innocently, batting her eyelashes at Hitomi. The latter has the grace to ignore her in favour of receiving a plate of toast from Chaeyeon, so Yuri continues slurping the heavenly bean sprout ramyeon. She listens as Chaeyeon start telling them about how she got so many kakaotalk messages and all of them were asking her about the ramyeon recipe, even Sakura.

“Did you give Kwangbae the recipe?” Yuri asks, twirling her chopsticks to gather the noodles. “She’ll just spread them through PM,” she adds, remembering the wiki copy-paste incident.

“She already did,” Chaeyeon deadpans.

Yuri chokes.

*

It’s not getting any easier, Yuri thinks, and it probably won’t be.

This ache that is tied to their depleting time together as a group, it probably would only get a little more painful each day. Their wounds are still new, raw and red across their hearts. And the passing of time will scratch and tug at it until it's bleeding again, until breathing hurts, until every exchanged glance carry a thousand words they don't have the time to say out loud.

minjoo: can you crash?

Yuri smiles to herself.

yuri: not if there’s still no yogurt to raid…

minjoo:  w  o  w

They aren’t alone, though.

Yuri isn’t alone, in feeling this. And as much as Yuri wishes the other members won’t have to feel this pain, it’s also a relief to know that no matter how tight Yuri is holding onto them, they hold onto her just as tight. It’s why their ache stings the same, after all. It’s why it hurt from the moment one of them started sounding choked up.

minjoo: I guess sleeping on it really enlightened you…

yuri: ?

yuri: oh are u talking about the.

Yuri sniffs, letting out a shaky breath. She feels like she can replay it in its entirety, her waking moment with Minjoo last night, the talks they had and the promises they made. I’ll be there the day after tomorrow too. We won’t stop meeting each other. I promise to bug the Hell out of you.

(I want to take you out on a date.)

minjoo: so

yuri: would u go on a date with me

minjoo: how was the bean sprout ramyeon?

minjoo: .

yuri: .

Somehow, despite it all, Yuri stifles a chuckle and feels a little light. Her phone vibrates, a new message from Minjoo coming in, and:

minjoo: …not today right…?

yuri: no! nonono. no, of course not

yuri: we can talk abt it whenever. plan it or just wing it when we both want to

yuri: (not a meat date though)

minjoo: what will you contribute to this discussion other than the audacity??

Yuri laughs, and feels a little light, because things may not be getting easier but all they can do is try to make the best of it anyway, right? Because things may not be getting easier but here they are, trying to make memories to fill up the days they can still call theirs. Because things may not be getting easier but she’s still home, among the people she calls home, and she’d like to hold onto them preciously until it’s time to let go.

Because things may not be getting easier but she refuses to let the world rob her of this too, of the chance to treasure their numbered days the best way they can, pouring colours onto each other's pages until it's time for the next chapter to start.

Until it’s time to learn to miss, until it's time to learn to keep each other in their lives still.

yuri: just kidding. ill steal jayoung-unnie’s cc and buy u meat

yuri: B)

minjoo: i’ll just go on a date with tomi…

yuri: im crashing ur room to change ur mind

minjoo: [sighing sticker]

minjoo: [tired sticker]

minjoo: [closed door sticker]

minjoo: …be careful on your way here!

yuri: :)

Yuri pockets her phone and prepares to leave, carefully curling her fingers around these resolute thoughts.

(Carefully curling her fingers around the precious feelings that come alive when she thinks of Minjoo, too, and hopes that Minjoo wouldn’t mind if Yuri’s grabbing onto her this tightly from there on.)

END.