A knock at the door wakes Soojin.

“Thank you for watching over her.”

“Soojin did most of it.” 

The exchange is spoken in soft whispers. Soojin recognises the second voice instantly but the first is difficult to peg. 

“Shu~” The third voice is sweet like honey and easily recognisable, “Hello Soojin-ah.” 

The remnants of sleep fade away quickly. Soojin nods, “Miyeon.” The light above the older woman’s head gives her a haloed appearance and adds to the charm of her features. Soojin hates it. 

“How is she?” 

Soojin wants to bat away the hand that reaches over to tame Shuhua’s sleep-wild hair.  “Sick.” Her tone is clipped. She isn’t friends with Miyeon and, in the privacy of the paper thin walls of the dorm, Soojin doesn’t have to pretend to be. Miyeon is just some airheaded supermodel Shuhua knows. 

“Our poor baby,” Miyeon coos, ignorant to the dismissal in Soojin’s tone. With worried eyes she turns to the door and urges, “Nicha, we need to get her home. She-”

Standing in the frame of the door, Nicha nods. The first elusive voice. “We will.” Her tone is soft and when she steps back a man in a black suit, all mysterious and secret agent like, walks in. 

Up close, he looks vaguely familiar, but Soojin doesn’t have the opportunity to ask as he leans right over and scoops Shuhua out from her arms. It is rude and extremely jarring, “Hey, what do you-”

Miyeon peels off her coat when Shuhua whimpers. She doesn’t quite settle when the fabric drapes over her frame, but she also doesn’t wake. “Thank you for taking care of her, Soojin-ah,” Miyeon acknowledges with a sincere smile. The pat on her head is meant to be appreciative. 

The man carrying Shuhua leaves and Miyeon follows. In the hall, Nicha removes her own coat. As she settles it over Miyeon's shoulders, Nicha presses a feather light kiss to the worry lines of Miyeon’s forehead.

Soyeon closes the door with a frown. 

Ignoring Soyeon's questioning gaze, Soojin pulls the blanket over her head. There she burrows her nose into the pillow and takes a deep breath.

It smells like peaches.

Shuhua hasn’t been back to the dorm in four days and Soojin doesn’t care in the slightest. 

“Stop it.” 

From her place on the couch, Soojin frowns, “Stop what?” She asks, honestly curious. 

“Staring. Moping around here like a lost puppy.” Soyeon fires back, clicking her tongue against the roof of in frustration, “She’ll come back when she comes back. Until then, go home.”

Caught off guard Soojin starts, “Why do you think-”

“Because you’ve been here every damn spare moment you have.” A long cherry red nail taps against the blank screen of her phone and Soyeon exhales a frustrated sigh, “She said she’s fine. She’ll be back when she’s back.”

“You don’t have to get mad.” The corners of her lips remain curled downward. Soojin isn’t used to this Soyeon. Not since they were fourteen and deep in the throes of puberty. Standing, Soojin dusts off her jeans before grabbing her bag.

“Soo, I’m not-” The chair creaks as Soyeon leans back. Under her eyes are dark circles and the usual mess at her desk is replaced by stacks and stacks of paper, “I’ve got a lot on my plate right now. Shuhua’s fine. She said so herself. You read the text a million-” 

“Twice. I read it twice.”

“-times.” Soyeon uses the back of the couch to scoot closer to Soojin, “Look, I get it. You’re worried.”

“That’s-”

Soyeon continues on, ignoring the way Soojin tries to speak, “But Shuhua is an adult. If she hasn’t come back yet, I’m sure she has her reasons. She’s not as airheaded as you like to accuse her of being.”

Fingers white knuckling the strap of her bag hung over her shoulder, Soojin grits her teeth. 

“Get some sleep, Soo.” It is as close to begging as Soyeon is capable of, “Shuhua is fine.”

“You look like .”

“Seriously?” Soojin throws her arms in the air with a huff, “Have you been talking to Soyeon too? I swear to God, I will-” 

“What? Hey, no,” Hands raised in surrender, Lisa approaches cautiously. “I mean, something's off. You missed your cue earlier.” Slowly she motions to the floor for them to sit. One doesn’t live with Soojin for two years and not learn a thing or two about how best to communicate with the enigmatic woman, “You are a damn good dancer, Soo. One of the best. The only reason you ever miss a cue is when something's bugging you. Like really bugging you.”

Soojin folds. Sinking to the practice floor, she groans, “Is it that obvious?”

“No,” Lisa admits honestly. “It took me a year to figure out the difference between your hurt face and your happy face. They both look pretty…” The older dancer mulls over her words. It takes her a moment to settle with a “similar” that doesn’t sound too much like an insult. “Plus everyone's exhausted with these two-a-days.”

The tension in her shoulders visibly relax and Soojin exhales, “Good.”

Aside from a few stragglers, it's just Lisa and Soojin in the practice room. Since they started, just two out