Hyunjung takes one unsteady step back, then another, away from Jiyeon, her head swimming, mouth moving soundlessly. The back of her knee hits something unexpectedly solid, and she stumbles backwards, sneaker skating on a stray ice cube, arms frantically pinwheeling.

To make things worse, all of a sudden Jiyeon is moving closer why is she moving closer—

Small hands settle on her forearms, steadying her, stopping her from breaking her back on the granite table. Hyunjung flinches back automatically, looking up to meet Jiyeon’s eyes.

Jiyeon’s hands jump back, just as quickly as they’d landed on her arms. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s—it’s okay,” Hyunjung manages to say. Faintly, she sinks down onto the bench under her, scattered bits of information clicking into place in her mind like a puzzle she’d just realised she had all the pieces to.

Jiyeon is a year younger than her, born in 1995. Jiyeon likes Iced Americanos. Jiyeon knows Mandarin. Jiyeon has a scar on her cheek from fighting with her brother when they were both very young, right where Bona has a scar. Jiyeon disappears for extended, unexplained periods of time, only to reappear at the oddest hours of the day. Jiyeon had expensive concert tickets to spare, which she sold to Hyunjung for a ridiculously cheap price.

Lightheadedness trickles dizzyingly into her temples.

It occurs to Hyunjung that Jiyeon has crouched down, examining the mess she’d made in her moment of shock. Her brain thankfully chooses that moment to start functioning again, and she jumps up from the bench, dropping to her knees beside her, because the last thing the leader of WJSN should be doing is cleaning up her spilled coffee.

“Let—me—” she mumbles, holding her hand out.

Silently, Jiyeon hands her the coffee cup, and Hyunjung takes it from her gingerly, careful not to touch her hand.

She picks up the lid and the straw lying uselessly next to it, sighing somewhat regretfully under her breath at her spilled coffee, and glances up to see Jiyeon already looking at her, something in her expression Hyunjung can’t decipher.

Before she can even blink, Jiyeon’s eyes dart away.

Slowly, Hyunjung recaps the coffee cup, sticks the straw back in the lid, and stands up, setting the empty cup on the table. Jiyeon stands along with her, flicking her fingers discreetly.

“Your fingers…” Hyunjung murmurs, distressed. They’re wet, stained with the coffee she’d spilled. Hyunjung doesn’t have any tissues with her—Juyeon usually carries enough for the three of them—so she takes Jiyeon’s hands into her own and tries to wipe the coffee off with her own fingers. Idols have to keep their fingernails clean; Bona can’t be seen onstage with coffee stains on her fingers, she’d get in trouble with her stylists and it would be Hyunjung’s fault—

“It’s okay.”

Hyunjung looks up to see Jiyeon’s surprised smile. She squeaks an apology, hurriedly withdrawing her hands.

“I’ll just wash it off later,” Jiyeon says gently.

“Right,” Hyunjung mumbles, cheeks reddening.

Hyunjung wishes she hadn’t set her cup down, because now she doesn’t know what to do with her hands. They twist awkwardly together, fingers clasping and un-clasping while her eyes flit around, avoiding direct eye contact.

Last week, she’d recounted in great detail to Jiyeon about her cat, Yangmal, avoiding her. Hyunjung tries valiantly to picture Bona on the other end of the KakaoTalk conversation, flooding her messages with boisterous laughter and suggesting different ways for her to approach her prickly, reticent cat, as Jiyeon had done.

She can’t visualise it.

“Unnie…”

Hyunjung’s eyes jump back to Jiyeon. The apologetic look in her eyes has returned.

“It’s still me.” Her voice sounds small.

“Right. I…know.” Hyunjung still can’t bring herself to make prolonged eye contact. Her eyes dart away again. Slowly, she lowers herself back onto the bench, feeling dizziness start to prick at her skull again.

“This whole time,” she says hesitantly, eyes fixed resolutely on the murky puddle of spilled coffee, “I’ve been talking to you?”

A brief pause. “Yes,” Jiyeon says quietly, then adds in an even quieter voice, “You’re mad, aren’t you? I’m sorry I lied to you—”

Hyunjung looks up in alarm. “I’m not mad!”

Jiyeon’s eyes are contrite, and Hyunjung realises she’d mistaken her fumbling awkwardness for something else. “I’m not mad,” she says again. She lets out a nervous chuckle, running a jittery hand through her hair. “I could never be mad at you, Bona-nim.”

If anything, Jiyeon looks even unhappier now. “…Right.”

An uncomfortable silence blankets them. Hyunjung scuffs stares at the ground again. “So…you sold me concert tickets? That Twitter account was you?”

She sees Jiyeon’s sneaker step carefully over the spilled coffee. The idol lowers herself onto the bench beside Hyunjung, cautiously, as though she’s taking care not to startle her. Hyunjung tries very valiantly to keep her eyes on the coffee puddle. “Yes.”

Hyunjung can’t resist. “The shady-looking account with one follower?”

Jiyeon splutters out an indignant noise. “Hey!”

Hyunjung finally dares to sneak a peek at her, the beginnings of a smile tugging at her lips. “I thought you were a scammer at first, you know.”

“Not everyone can have thousands of Twitter followers, master-nim. ” Jiyeon sniffs, but she’s smiling now, too. “I don’t tweet at all, how am I supposed to gain followers?”

“Who’s the account following you, then?” Hyunjung asks curiously.

“Im Dayoung,” Jiyeon says, and Hyunjung shakes her head wryly. (She should’ve guessed.)

“Why did you…talk to me?”

“I just wanted to help you get tickets at first, I swear!” Jiyeon says hurriedly. “I wasn’t lying when I said I really liked your photos. And the ticket was originally for my brother, but he wasn’t able to make it, so…”

“Ah,” Hyunjung says. “You wanted me there so that you could have good photos of yourself?”

“No!” Jiyeon says, flustered. “You’ve always supported me and I wanted to—” She stops as she notices Hyunjung’s smile. “ Unnie, ” she says, sounding affronted. Hyunjung feels a thin shoulder knock not-so-gently into hers.

“This is for all the times you teased me during fansigns,” Hyunjung tells her, just so she can feel Jiyeon’s shoulder bump hers in mock offence again.

“Fine. I guess that’s fair.”

Hyunjung sneaks another peek at her, only to find Jiyeon looking right at her, eyes twinkling, lips crooked in a little smile. She drops her gaze to her lap again, just as quickly. “And after that?”

“After…?” Jiyeon says, confused. “Oh. You needed a translator, right? No one was helping you, and I can speak a bit of Mandarin so…why not?”

Hyunjung nods, though Jiyeon hasn’t really answered her question.

Even though it’s still a little difficult to wrap her head around, she can more or less guess why Bona would send her most popular fansite concert tickets, or why she’d offer to translate to make something more readily available for Mandarin-speaking fans. But what Hyunjung really wants to know is why the leader of WJSN would bother to make conversation with her, and do things like listen to her ramble on about the intricacies of photography, or humouring her talking about trivial things like her cat avoiding her at three in the morning.

Jiyeon doesn’t say anything else, so Hyunjung prompts uncertainly, “You must’ve wanted to hear from a fan what Ujungs like and dislike, songs, styling, stuff like that…”

“Yeah!” Jiyeon says quickly. “Yeah, that too.”

Another brief silence. A thought occurs to Hyunjung, accompanied by a sinking uneasiness.

So the online friend she’d been losing sleep over all this time, wanting and wishing for her to like her back, thought of her as nothing more than a way to understand her fans better.

“Ah, unnie, before I forget!” Jiyeon turns to rummage around in her bag. “I have something for you.”

Hyunjung blinks. “Me…?”

Is Jiyeon going to give her a signed album, or something like that? Hyunjung hadn’t thought to bring anything, but then again, what would she give someone who has gifts flowing out of her ears every fansign she’s been to?

Jiyeon turns to face her again, cradling a small pouch in her hands. “Something of yours, actually.”

Hyunjung takes it from her and hesitantly s the pouch.

She draws out a familiar battered-looking Minolta.

“My mom’s camera,” she breathes, looking up at Jiyeon. “I thought I lost it, how…”

Jiyeon is grinning. “A staff member picked it up and thought it belonged to us. I didn’t know it was yours until you told me.”

Hyunjung turns it over in her hands disbelievingly, her thumb running reverently over the familiar grooves, the tiny scratches in the casing, her mother’s initials in faded ink on the back compartment. “I thought I’d lost it forever,” she whispers shakily again.

“I would’ve told you earlier, but I didn’t want to get your hopes up,” Jiyeon says. “I think someone stepped on it or something. It wasn’t working properly when I tried it. It took me so long to find somewhere that would fix a camera this old.”

“You fixed it?” Hyunjung looks up at her.

“Yeah! Well—” Jiyeon tucks a lock of hair behind her ear uncertainly. “—that’s what the shop told me. You should test it out to make sure.”

Hyunjung presses the shutter experimentally, but it doesn’t click. She pops the back open, only to find the film compartment empty.

“They had to remove your film to fix it,” Jiyeon explains. She fishes out something else from her bag—a thick envelope. “I managed to get it developed, though. The entire roll was still intact. I didn’t look at any of the pictures!” she adds hastily.

“That’s…probably for the best.” Hyunjung winces, remembering the closeups she’d snapped of Sojung’s nostrils.

She eases the flap of the envelope open, sliding the prints of her film reel out. Jiyeon had even included a little thumbdrive for the soft copies. A lump forms in Hyunjung’s throat.

“Thank you,” she manages to say. “I didn’t think I’d ever see this camera again. And it’s precious to me because…”

She trails off, swallowing.

“It was your mom’s,” Jiyeon finishes for her gently. “I know.”

“Yeah. So…thank you.”

To distract herself, she flips through the prints. Two photos of Chu Sojung’s nose. A couple of Juyeon and Sojung, some where they’re posing stupidly, some taken candidly. Some of Yangmal (in the moments he deigned to let her approach). Hyunjung’s fingers pause over a photo.

“Ah,” she says hesitantly, glancing up. “These are of you.”

Jiyeon blinks owlishly at her. “Me?”

The photos are the ones she’d taken with her film camera the day she hadn’t managed to get her DSLR out in time, caught in the sweaty tangle of fans amidst the blistering heat. They’d turned out surprisingly well, though one is a little shaky; Hyunjung remembers it as the one she’d accidentally taken just before falling onto the barricade. Right in front of—

“I remember,” Jiyeon says suddenly, leaning closer. Their shoulders touch lightly. Hyunjung stiffens. “You were taking pictures with this camera that day. And you nearly fell.”

She remembers?

Jiyeon’s fingers brush over the photo, hand hovering just over Hyunjung’s. “It’s a good photo,” she murmurs, but her elbow skims the inside of Hyunjung’s forearm and all Hyunjung can think is, she’s so close.

“T-thanks.”

“This other one’s a little blurry…was this when you fell?” Delicate brows knit together in worry. “Did someone push you?”

“Well—no,” Hyunjung admits. She remembers exactly why she’d messed up the shot, because it used to be something of a mark of pride for her as a fansite master. “That was after. It was because…”

She coughs, staring fixedly at her feet. There’s another light bump to her shoulder. “Because?”

“Don’t laugh,” Hyunjung warns.

Jiyeon holds her hands up, an innocent look on her face Hyunjung knows better than to believe. “I won’t.”

“It was when you looked at me,” Hyunjung mutters.

Jiyeon lowers her hands, slowly. The corners of are twitching. “Ah.”

“You said you wouldn’t laugh.”

“I’m not laughing,” Jiyeon says, but her lips thin with the effort of fighting to keep her smile off her face. “Aren’t fansite masters supposed to be good at keeping their hands steady?”

“I am,” Hyunjung tells her indignantly. “But you looked at me!”

Jiyeon her head, smiling. “I’m sure I’ve looked at you before when you were taking pictures, though, unnie.”

“You looked at me up close. ”

“Ah…I’m sorry,” Jiyeon says, but she doesn’t sound sorry at all. “Well…I’m looking at you up close now.”

“I can see that,” Hyunjung mutters.

“Should I stop, then?” Jiyeon says. Her eyes twinkle with mirth, boldly meeting Hyunjung’s. Hyunjung stares back, breath catching in , heart thundering against her ribcage. Warmth floods her cheeks. Their faces are unnervingly close, Jiyeon’s shoulder pressed against her own.

What are they doing?

“Yes?” she says uncertainly, sure she’s misunderstood. “It’s, um…probably best for my health.”

She doesn’t know what kind of answer Jiyeon expected, but Jiyeon doesn’t seem too fazed. She leans back, lips quirking into another smile. “Alright, unnie. If you say so.”

Not knowing what to say to that, Hyunjung just fiddles with the film camera in her hands. Jiyeon watches her fingers flit over the settings for a while, then gently bumps her knee with her own.

“Let me know if it works when you get back home.”

“Ah!” Hyunjung brightens. “I have a spare film roll in my bag, hang on—”

She pops the back open and slots the roll of new film in, winds it snugly against the spool with deft, practised movements, and clicks the camera shut.

“So…it works?”

Impulsively, Hyunjung raises the camera to her eyes and takes a picture of Jiyeon peering at her, mask hanging haphazardly off one ear, expression caught halfway between inquisitive curiosity and surprise.

“Hey!” Jiyeon protests as Hyunjung winds the film forward, smiling to herself.

“It works,” she says.

Jiyeon reaches out and snatches the camera from her hands. “Give me that.”

A surprised laugh bubbles out of Hyunjung’s mouth.

“—unnie,” Jiyeon tacks on hastily.

“You can’t delete it,” Hyunjung tells her wryly. “It’s on the film roll—”

Abruptly, Jiyeon points the camera at her.

“Wha—hey!” Hyunjung’s hands instantly go up to shield her face.

“Unnie.” A hand tugs on her wrist. “It’s only fair. You took one of me.”

Hyunjung’s hands don’t budge from her face. “Yeah, but you probably look good in it anyway. Don’t take photos of me, I’m ugly.”

The hand tugging on her wrist stills as Jiyeon huffs a little disbelieving laugh. “Don’t lie, unnie. If there’s something you definitely aren’t, it’s ugly.”

Hyunjung blinks. A memory resurfaces in her mind, unbidden. you’re pretty and nice to talk to unnie anyone would like you—

“Ah!” Jiyeon says triumphantly as she finally manages to pry Hyunjung’s hands from her face, followed by the distinct click of a shutter.

Hyunjung puts her head in her hands. “Jiyeon-ah, why—” she looks up, alarmed “—I mean, Bona…”

Jiyeon makes a face, bumping her knee playfully into hers again. “So I’m not Jiyeonie anymore?” she teases.

Hyunjung lets her head fall back into her hands.

(She supposes she only has herself to blame for deciding to like one of the most mischievous members of the group.)

“Do you…want your photos?” she says, flustered.

Jiyeon stares thoughtfully at the photos in her hand for a few moments, then shakes her head. “You keep it.” She pauses, putting a finger to her chin and reconsidering, then plucks one of the photos out of Hyunjung’s hands. “But I want this one.”

It’s the startled, blurry shot she’d taken when her hands had slipped.

“This one is better,’ Hyunjung protests, waving the other one at her bemusedly.

Jiyeon shrugs, already slotting the photo into her bag. “I want this one.”

“Okay.” Hyunjung shakes her head, muttering to herself, “At least I can post the nicer one, then.”

“No, don’t.”

Hyunjung blinks at her. “Don’t?”

Jiyeon slips her hand over hers, curling Hyunjung’s fingers over the photo, her lips tugging upward. “Keep it. It’s just for you.”

Sitting inches away from Bona, faced with the dreadful charm of her smile, it’s dangerously easy to be starstruck into speechlessness. But Hyunjung finds it just as easy to fall into the light, familiar rhythm of her banter with Jiyeon.

“Thanks, but—you know I took these, right? They were mine already.”

The hand resting on her fingers swats her forearm. “Unnie, it’s my face. ” Jiyeon huffs.

“Okay, okay.” Hyunjung holds both her hands up, laughing. “I won’t post it, I promise.”

Jiyeon eyes her, then her smile returns full-force, dimple denting her cheek, and Hyunjung has to drop her gaze, trying her best not to let her eyes linger. “Good.”

 

---

 

“So?” Juyeon demands. Sojung huddles beside her, looking at her expectantly. “How was it?”

Hyunjung mimes zipping shut. If she starts telling them about Jiyeon, she’ll give everything away. And she doesn’t want to do that just yet. Past respecting the privacy of an idol’s personal life, her afternoon with Jiyeon was—well. Hyunjung herself is still having trouble believing it actually happened.

So she’ll keep it to herself. For now.

“You’re no fun,” Juyeon whines.

“She’s shy,” Hyunjung says pointedly.

“So she was actually who she said she was, then?”

“No,” Hyunjung says, then hastily corrects herself as they both fix her with wide-eyed, alarmed stares. “I mean—yes.”

“Unnie.”

“Yes, she was.” Hyunjung runs a hand through her hair sheepishly. Technically, Jiyeon hadn’t lied about her age or her gender, like Juyeon had been worried about. She’d just neglected to mention the glaring fact that she was Hyunjung’s favourite idol.

Sojung and Juyeon exchange glances.

“It must’ve gone well, judging from that stupid smile she has on her face again,” Sojung notes dryly, picking up her coffee to sip from it.

Hyunjung shoves her shoulder, but there’s no strength behind it. “Hey.”

“Are you going to see her again?” Juyeon asks.

“I don’t…know.”

Juyeon frowns, displeased. “Do you want to see her?”

Hyunjung hesitates. “Yes. But—”

Juyeon points her fork at her. “No buts. Text her. You met up with her already, unnie, don’t be such a…”

“,” Sojung supplies helpfully, as Juyeon trails off.

Her phone buzzes gently on the table, thankfully saving her from having to think up a response.

 

jiyeon
i had fun today unnie ^^
im sorry again for lying to you

 

Hyunjung nearly knocks over her drink in her haste to reply. On either side of her, Sojung and Juyeon trade exasperated sighs.

 

hyunjung
don’t be sorry!!
I understand why you had to do it
don’t worry :]

jiyeon
;;
thank you for understanding…
and thank you for the pic ^__^ i’ll cherish it
you know this already but you take really good photos

hyunjung
ah seriously
you’re too much
ㅠㅠ

jiyeon
🥺?

 

Hyunjung fights to keep the smile off her face. It’s not cute it’s not—

 

hyunjung
don’t tell anyone why it’s blurry, okay…
it’s embarrassing

jiyeon
oh
ㅋㅋㅋㅋㅋㅋㅋㅋㅋㅋ
i was being serious!! i wasn’t teasing you about the photo
but sure master-nim
i’ll keep your secret
^^*

hyunjung
:////////
I’m trusting you

jiyeon
your reputation is safe with me hehe
you do take really good photos though i mean it
i’d love to learn from you if you have time!!

 

Hyunjung stares dumbly at her phone, heart skipping a beat. Does she mean—

Sojung sneaks a peek over her shoulder before she can angle her phone away. On her left, Juyeon’s chin plasters itself to her other shoulder. “You can thank me for saving your love life later,” Sojung says airily.

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Hyunjung sputters.

“I thought you liked her.”

“I do, but—”

Juyeon prods her. “No buts. She’s asking you out. Hurry up and say yes—”

Hyunjung makes a strangled noise. “She’s not asking me out! She’s asking whether I want to hang out as friends! ”

Juyeon waves a dismissive hand, carelessly tipping her chair back. “Semantics.”

“I hate you both,” Hyunjung mutters, tapping out a quick sure, I can teach you anytime :] in reply to Jiyeon, Sojung wiggling her eyebrows up and down at her while her head bows once more over her phone.

She tunes their chatter out easily; she’s had practice. She knows better than to believe them.

Because if she ever doubted her chances with Jiyeon before, she knows she doesn’t stand a chance in hell now. Not when the person she’s been talking to all this time is an idol with hundreds of thousands of fans fawning over her, an idol who could have anyone she wants.

 

---

 

“You have a lot of cameras.”

Hyunjung watches as Jiyeon’s fingertips trail in the air, hovering over her sizable mass of digital and film cameras, drumming lightly over the DSLR she uses to take fansite photos. Her own hands are clenched awkwardly by her side as she fidgets on the spot while her favourite idol wanders around her bedroom.

Jiyeon glances over her shoulder, notices her stiff expression. Her hand retracts. “I probably shouldn’t be touching them.”

“N-no!” Hyunjung waves her hands around hurriedly. “You can touch them. It’s okay.”

Her wrist brushes Jiyeon’s forearm, and she jumps back, cheeks warming. “Sorry.”

Jiyeon her head. Her gaze turns playful, knowing. “Am I making you nervous, unnie?”

“No,” Hyunjung says. Her voice falters on the lie, so she clears and says, “Y-you can try out any camera you want. They’re not all film, so you’ll be able to see the pictures you take on some of them.”

Jiyeon looks like she’s on the verge of saying something else, but decides against it, turning back to Hyunjung’s collection of cameras and smiling to herself. “Okay.”

Yangmal prowls into the room then, eyeing the unfamiliar stranger, this unwelcome intrusion into his territory. His tail flicks curiously.

Experimentally, he rubs against Jiyeon’s calf.

“Oh!” Jiyeon startles, nearly dropping the camera she’s holding. Hyunjung moves instinctively, lunging forward, hand outstretched (this one hadn’t been too lenient on her wallet).

“Sorry,” Jiyeon breathes, looking up at her.

“It’s okay. Don’t worry about it.”

“I wouldn’t have dropped it,” she says earnestly.

“I know,” Hyunjung hurries to say. “It’s just that my friend can be really clumsy, so these reflexes kind of built themselves over time. I don’t think half my collection would be intact otherwise.”

Jiyeon huffs out a laugh. “Makes sense. I don’t think there’s any danger I’ll drop it now, though, unnie.”

Hyunjung realises too late her hand is still cupping the camera protectively, resting on Jiyeon’s. She pulls back as though scalded. “Sorry! Sorry.”

Jiyeon is grinning. “Ah, I shouldn’t have said anything,” she sings, and turns her gaze downward, where Yangmal is curling cautiously around her ankle. “Yangmal, right?”

Hyunjung tries to discreetly fan the blush off her cheeks. “Yes, ah—he can be kind of grumpy and he scratches sometimes and he doesn’t usually like strangers—”

“And he likes being scratched right here, right?” Jiyeon says. Her fingers ease themselves into the soft fur behind Yangmal’s ears and gently rub back and forth. A deep rumble vibrates out of the cat as he blinks up at her, slowly, placidly.

Yangmal is purring. Hyunjung stares in astonished wonder.

“Yes, but…”

Sometimes it’s easy to forget that Jiyeon isn’t just the leader of a girl group she’s idolised for the past three years, a celebrity she’s reverently supported from a distance with a camera and a Twitter account. She’s also someone Hyunjung has had unfiltered late-night conversations with, someone Hyunjung tells nearly everything to, someone who has knowledge of peculiar, obscure little facts about Hyunjung like where her crotchety cat likes being scratched.

“Hello, Yangmal-nim,” Jiyeon says, cheekily formal. She scratches his head, and he arches into her touch in distinct approval. “It’s nice to finally meet you in person.”

Then she sneezes. Sneezes a second time. Blinks in bewilderment. Sneezes again.

Hyunjung’s eyes widen in alarm. “Are you allergic?”

“I don’t think so.” Jiyeon frowns, and sneezes again. “This is actually the first time I’ve been this close to a cat,” she admits.

“You’re allergic.” Hyunjung nearly trips over Yangmal in her haste to grab the tissue box. He glares balefully at her and stalks off, nose upturned haughtily.

Jiyeon gratefully takes a tissue and blows her nose. Her bottom lip pushes out, and as the tissue comes away from her face, Hyunjung can see her nose is bright red.

“I can’t be allergic to Yangmal,” she sulks.

“You are allergic to Yangmal.” Hyunjung watches, amused, as Jiyeon’s pout grows even more exaggerated, and feels a wry smile tugging at her own lips. “It doesn’t seem that bad, I guess. You might even build up an immunity if you see him more often.”

Then she realises what she’s insinuating and claps a hand over , but Jiyeon is already starting to grin, the playful lilt returning to her voice. “I guess I have to see him more often, then.”

She turns back to Hyunjung’s cameras and hums as she sees her DSLR. Hyunjung almost gets embarrassed—she hadn’t thought to take the fansite sign off before Jiyeon came to visit—but then she remembers Jiyeon has probably already seen the sign more times than she can count.

True enough, Jiyeon just smiles, gently the sign. “Why a rose?”

“They’re my favourite flower,” Hyunjung tells her. She coughs. “Sojung—my friend, she was the one who started the fansite for me. She came up with it.”

“Ah.” Jiyeon glances at her, makes deliberate eye contact, and plucks the sign off her camera.

“What…” Hyunjung blinks at her and reaches for it, but Jiyeon ducks just out of range.

“I’m stealing this.” Her eyes curve, just a touch of mischief in her blinding smile. “It has my name on it.”

“That helps idols see their fansites in the crowd,” Hyunjung protests half-heartedly, trying to take it back.

Jiyeon scoffs lightly. “I don’t need this to spot you in a crowd.”

Hyunjung freezes as Jiyeon turns back to her row of cameras, humming under her breath.

“What—what’s that supposed to mean,” Hyunjung stutters when she’s found her voice.

Jiyeon pauses to look up at her. “Nothing,” she says brightly. “I just mean there’s no one who quite looks like you, unnie.”

Then she turns around and picks up another camera, humming to herself again. As if that’s supposed to help.

 

---

 

It doesn’t get any easier being around Jiyeon.

Hyunjung learns to cope with the fact that the idol she once thought she could only admire from a distance has been someone she’s considered a close friend for more than a year. Their texting, initially hampered by Hyunjung’s awkwardly formal replies and usage of Bona-nim and Jiyeon’s subsequent please stop calling me that unnie 🙄, gradually returns to its usual rapid-fire pace.

Before she knew who Jiyeon really was, she had cultivated a bad habit of confiding in her every little thing that happened to her. As with all bad habits, Hyunjung finds this one incredibly hard to break.

So she starts texting Jiyeon like she used to, everything and nothing at odd hours of the day, complaining to her about her classes, telling her stories about Yangmal no one else would have wanted to listen to, enthusiastically recommending the blueberry bagel (with cream cheese!) from the bakery down the road she’s become addicted to.

It’s just like before, only better—now that Jiyeon doesn’t have to be secretive about what she’s doing, instead of vague texts about university classes she’s never attended, Hyunjung gets everything from enthusiastic recounts of album preparations (Jiyeon has never been shy about spoiling things to fans and she’s certainly not about to start with Hyunjung) to occasional cheeky practice room selfies. And, of course, frequent questions about film photography, thanks to Jiyeon’s recent interest in it.

Just the other day Hyunjung had, at Jiyeon’s request, accompanied her to help her finally pick out a film camera of her own. Jiyeon had—pretty predictably—latched on to one of the most expensive cameras in the shop.

Hyunjung had nearly gone cross-eyed staring at the price tag. “Why am I not surprised?” she had said, shaking her head wryly.

“Are you trying to say something, unnie?” Jiyeon had demanded, already fishing out her card to pay.

“Nothing. You have expensive taste,” Hyunjung had said airily.

Jiyeon had paused, looking over her shoulder then, as the cashier packaged her new camera and a few rolls of film. “I have good taste,” she had corrected, and there had been something meaningful in her cryptic smile and quirked brow that made Hyunjung swallow heavily and turn away.

Bona being her friend is—manageable. Hyunjung manages to wrap her head around it eventually. What isn’t easy is being friends with Jiyeon. Jiyeon, who is devastatingly pretty with a cheeky streak a mile long, who delights in teasing Hyunjung (especially if she gets visibly flustered). Jiyeon, whom Hyunjung has silently liked for an embarrassing amount of time, waiting and hoping she’d like her back.

Sometimes, Jiyeon will say or do something that gives Hyunjung pause. A cheeky throwaway that toes the line between teasing and something else, a playful gaze that lingers a touch longer than usual. It’s hard to tell with her; there are times when Hyunjung almost thinks that she might be…flirting with her. But the mere thought is so ludicrous that Hyunjung puts it out of her mind almost immediately.

After all, Kim Jiyeon can have anyone she wants. Why would she want her?

 

---

 

“Are you sure it’s okay for me to be in here?” Hyunjung whispers, panicked.

Jiyeon gives her a funny look.

“Of course it’s okay, unnie,” she says. She takes hold of Hyunjung’s hand, tugging her forward. Hyunjung stumbles along after her, staring down at their clasped hands, already lost from the moment Jiyeon reached for her. “I’m the one who brought you in here. The kids won’t mind.”

She opens the door to their waiting room. Thankfully, it’s mostly empty after their fanmeet ended half an hour ago; the members are elsewhere, either taking photos to upload later or changing out of their stage outfits.

Hyunjung is greeted by the sight of Yeoreum, sprawled on the couch on her phone, who gives them a quizzical look, her eyes darting from Jiyeon to Hyunjung, then trailing down to their intertwined hands. Hyunjung blushes ten shades of crimson, and opens to introduce herself and explain why she’s intruding into WJSN’s waiting room (why is she intruding into WJSN’s waiting room? Jiyeon hadn’t really given her much in the way of an explanation when she texted her and said meet me by the back door after the fanmeet), but she doesn’t get the chance, because the door chooses that moment to bang open noisily.

Dayoung saunters into the room, her blonde hair eye-catching under the fluorescents overhead, and spots them. She approaches, eyeing Hyunjung with great interest.

“Unnie, who’s this?”

“My friend,” Jiyeon says simply.

“Hi, unnie’s friend.” Dayoung beams at her. “Have I seen you somewhere before? You look really familiar.”

“I don’t think so?” Hyunjung says, flustered. “My name is Hyunjung. You might have seen me in the crowd taking pictures sometimes?”

Dayoung’s mouth forms a perfect ‘O’ of astonishment. Hyunjung feels Jiyeon’s hand twitch in hers.

“Ah, that friend,” Dayoung says gleefully. “You’re that Hyunjung unnie.” She stresses the last three words emphatically, looking at Jiyeon and waggling her eyebrows.

Over on the couch, Yeoreum perks up, sitting upright. “You’re Hyunjung unnie?” Her eyes are wide. “You’re pretty.”

“Of course she’s pretty,” Dayoung says slyly, “if Bona unnie li—”

“Okay, enough!” Jiyeon claps a hand over Dayoung’s mouth. Her cheeks are faintly pink. “Don’t you two have something better to do?”

Dayoung wrestles Jiyeon’s hand away from . “No,” she and Yeoreum say in unison.

“Hyunjung unnie,” Dayoung says brightly, “do you know all unnie ever does is talk about y—”

“Im Dayoung! ”

 

---

 

Hyunjung presses the viewfinder of her DSLR to her eye as sweaty bodies crowd against her and screams erupt in the air.

She’d missed doing this.

Beside her, Sojung’s shutter fires away as Soobin walks past, followed by Yeonjung, then Luda. Sojung lowers their camera once they’ve walked past, seizing Hyunjung’s arm so tightly Hyunjung is surprised her bones don’t shatter. “Did you see that Soobin smiled at my camera she smiled at my camera —”

Hyunjung barely hears her. Dawon, Yeoreum, Soobin—there. Slender brows furrowed amidst the merciless sun. A delicate hand running through jet-black hair.

Her own shutter clicks rapidly as she presses it down. In the tiny window of the viewfinder, Jiyeon’s eyes find hers.

Amidst the frenzied calls of Bona unnie and Bona-yah, Hyunjung sees surprise flicker in the idol’s gaze.

Then her eyes curve into a blinding smile, before she continues walking, following the rest of the members into their van.

The doors shut firmly. Her phone buzzes in her pocket.

 

jiyeon
unnie?

hyunjung
hi

jiyeon
hi
fancy seeing you here

hyunjung
I took good pics :]
do you want them

jiyeon
🤨
i thought you were on hiatus?
don’t you have an exam in two weeks…?
where’s juyeon

hyunjung
juyeon doesn’t know we came..

jiyeon
unnie
study
or im telling juyeon

hyunjung
you don’t even have her number

jiyeon
study
if i see you at an event again before the semester ends
im telling starship to blacklist your fansite

hyunjung
????
ㅜㅜㅜㅜㅜㅜㅜ
OKAY

jiyeon
good ^__^

 

---

 

 

Hyunjung fiddles with the camera in her hands. Outside, the sky grumbles in displeasure, darkened by angry-looking clumps of thunderclouds. The rain drums against her roof in sheets.

Jiyeon peers out her window, frowning. “I don’t think it’s going to stop anytime soon.”

Lightning streaks across the sky, throwing her features into sharp relief. Hyunjung’s eyes skate down the strong slope of her nose, down her cheekbone and over the little scar on her cheek, along the curve of her bottom lip.

Thunder rumbles overhead. Lightning flashes again. Hyunjung raises the camera to her eyes and clicks the shutter.

Jiyeon looks over at the noise, cocking an eyebrow and smiling.

Hyunjung turns away, feigning nonchalance. “The sky was pretty.”

Jiyeon glances very deliberately at the storm clouding the sky, then back at her. “Sure, unnie.”

She pushes off from the window and walks over to where Hyunjung is sitting on her bed, knocking her shoulder playfully. “I should go soon.”

“In this kind of weather?”

“It’s late,” Jiyeon says, though she does glance at the sky with some trepidation. “I don’t want to keep you up. I’ll be in a taxi, it’s fine.”

The words tumble out of Hyunjung’s mouth before she can stop them. “Or you could crash here.”

Jiyeon blinks at her, surprised. For a few nerve-wracking seconds, she doesn’t say anything, and Hyunjung anxiously fingers the film advance wheel of her camera. “Or not—”

“If you’re okay with it.” A smile breaks across Jiyeon’s face, slow and wide. “I’d love to, unnie.”

“I don’t have a spare room or anything,” Hyunjung frets. She tries to think of something else, because if there’s one thing Kim Hyunjung has never done, it’s give up her bed for someone else to sleep in.

“That’s okay.”

“You should take my bed, I’ll take the couch outside,” Hyunjung says before her brain can catch up to , then pauses, surprised at herself.

Jiyeon is shaking her head adamantly. “Why are you taking the couch? I should be taking the couch.”

“You’re not taking the couch,” Hyunjung says, a little horrified. “You’re taking my bed.”

“I’ll sleep in your bed only if you sleep in it too,” Jiyeon says.

“Sure—what?”

“Great! Glad that’s settled, then,” Jiyeon says happily, while Hyunjung gapes at her, dumbfounded.

“Sleeping? In a bed? With y-you?” she stammers. It’s a miracle her camera doesn’t crack with how tightly she’s gripping onto it.

Jiyeon tilts her head, and—much to Hyunjung’s despair—her smile turns mischievous. “Sure. What else would we be doing in a bed together, unnie?”

Hyunjung squeaks, and the camera falls from her hands. “Sleeping! We would be sleeping.”

Jiyeon snickers.

“If you say so,” she sings, plopping down next to her. She pauses, then adds, more earnestly, “You know, I don’t think I’ve had a sleepover with a friend other than the members.”

Hyunjung momentarily forgoes her embarrassment to frown at her. “Never? Not even in high school or something?”

Jiyeon shrugs. “I transferred over from Daegu, so I didn’t really know anyone. And I spent most of my time after school in the practice room, so…” She notices the look on Hyunjung’s face and bumps her knee with her own. “Don’t feel sorry for me, unnie. I don’t regret anything about where I am now.”

“No, just…” Hyunjung shakes her head. “We’ll have a sleepover.”

“We are having one,” Jiyeon says, bemused. “I’m sleeping at your house.”

“A proper sleepover,” Hyunjung tells her. She reaches over and grabs her laptop. “Pick a movie.”

Jiyeon hums in thought. “Anything?”

“Anything.”

“Have you heard of Moonlit Winter?”

Hyunjung nearly drops her laptop. “O…kay.” She blinks at Jiyeon, momentarily at a loss for words. “Do you know what it’s about?”

“Yeah.” Jiyeon dimples at her. “It’s a nice movie.”

“Okay,” Hyunjung says slowly. “We’ll watch Moonlit Winter.”

She still has a downloaded copy somewhere from when she first watched it, so she hunts for it in her hard drive and pulls it up, Jiyeon peering over her shoulder.

“Can I use your shower?” she asks. She pulls at her blouse. “I had a schedule earlier today. I just want to get out of these clothes.”

“Sure.” Hyunjung gets up and fetches a fresh towel and some clothes. “Yell if you need anything.”

“Mm. Thanks, unnie.”

As the sound of running water hitting tiles, Hyunjung pauses, thinking. She runs to her living room, grabs a few pillows from the couch, and places them on her bed and fluffs them up. Unceremoniously, she drapes her blankets over the stacks of pillows, and steps back, satisfied.

The bathroom door opens, and Jiyeon steps out, towelling her hair dry. Hyunjung’s old, oversized shirt is hanging off one slim shoulder, wet strands of hair dripping onto bare skin. Her damp skin almost seems to glow softly in the white light filtering from the bathroom.

“What?” Jiyeon grins at her, and Hyunjung jumps, only just realising she had been staring. “Is it because my eyebrows disappeared?”

Hyunjung flushes and turns away. “No,” she mumbles. “Nothing.”

“What are you doing?” Jiyeon asks, coming to stand next to her. Their shoulders brush; she’s so close that Hyunjung can feel the heat emanating from her body. The scent of Hyunjung’s own shampoo tickles her nose, and she tries to remember how to breathe.

“You said you hadn’t been to a sleepover before, so I’m making a pillow fort,” Hyunjung says, then immediately feels stupid. Pillow forts are for kids. Jiyeon probably thinks it’s dumb, she wouldn’t want to—

Jiyeon giggles and flings herself bodily onto the makeshift fort, bouncing against the pillows, damp hair splaying haphazardly across the sheets. “What are you doing just standing there, then?” she demands, and pats the space next to her insistently.

Hyunjung tries to stifle her relieved, affectionate smile. “Coming, coming,” she says, turning off the lights and clambering onto the pillows next to Jiyeon.

Under the vast canopy of her blankets, the storm outside is muted, distant; Hyunjung can only dimly see Jiyeon’s face, faintly illuminated by a sliver of moonlight wedging its way through the cracks of their fort.

“Have you ever made one?”

“A pillow fort? Yeah, I did one with my brother when we were really little. But we ended up fighting under it and the whole thing collapsed in like ten minutes.” Jiyeon wrinkles her nose.

“Figures,” Hyunjung says wryly. “Who won?”

“Do you even need to ask?” Jiyeon says, mock-affronted. “He couldn’t do much when I was throwing handfuls of his legos at his face.”

Hyunjung snorts out a laugh, and Jiyeon casts her a sidelong glance. Her knuckles brush Hyunjung’s bare knee, fleeting, her voice quieter. “I like it better with you, unnie.”

“Well,” Hyunjung murmurs, “it doesn’t sound like I had very much competition.”

“No,” Jiyeon agrees, and the weight of her gaze is heavy. “You usually don’t.”

Hyunjung opens , then closes it, swallowing, not knowing what to say in reply. Nervously, she wets her lips, and Jiyeon’s eyes flick down, following the movement. Thunder rumbles distantly outside, rain drumming insistently against the windowpanes. Insulated from the storm in their cosy little fort, the air between them feels quieter, charged, every muscle in Hyunjung’s body coiled, tense.

“Um,” she stammers, tearing her eyes away, “I downloaded Moonlight—Moonlit Winter—I mean I already have—I have Moonlit Winter, if I still want to—I mean, if you still want to watch it?”

She angles her face away and fervently wills her blush to fade, even though it’s too dark for Jiyeon to see.

Huddled under her blankets in the dark with Jiyeon right next to her, so close their thighs almost touch, it’s dangerously easy to forget she’s someone she can’t have. She has to be careful, Hyunjung thinks, throat closing with panic, not to make her feelings obvious.

Beside her, Jiyeon is silent for a beat or two, then she lets out a low chuckle. “Sure, unnie. Let’s watch it.”

 

---

 

When Hyunjung wakes, it’s oddly dark.

She stretches languidly, rubbing her eyes, and her shoulder hits something soft. Something that murmurs something unintelligible, and then lapses back into deep, even breathing.

Her eyes fly open, and she remembers.

Laptop wedged awkwardly under her thigh. Pillow fort. Blankets draped over her head. Jiyeon sleeping soundly next to her.

Now fully awake, Hyunjung tries to ease out of the tangle of blankets and pillows, her heart stuttering in her chest. She’d fallen asleep somewhere during their third movie of the night, and had been so drowsy she hadn’t given much thought to Jiyeon sleeping in her bed, but—Jiyeon is sleeping in her bed.

Her knee-jerk reaction is to escape.

A fist clenches the back of her shirt and pulls, and Hyunjung tumbles back onto the bed with a barely stifled yelp.

“Warm,” Jiyeon mumbles into her neck, and Hyunjung feels her nose dig into her skin, her breath tickling the fine hairs on the back of her neck. She stiffens, heart hammering so loudly against her ribcage that for one terrifying moment she’s convinced Jiyeon can hear it.

But the little exhales that puff gently against her neck even out as Jiyeon dozes off again.

Hyunjung feels her calf dip into the mattress as something pounces on it. Soft paws pad their way up her thigh, and Yangmal nestles decisively in between them, nuzzling into their combined warmth.

Well. That settles it. She can’t get out of bed now.

 

 

 

She’s not sure how long she falls back asleep for, but she’s woken up by a muffled sneeze.

Rolling over, she’s greeted by the sight of Jiyeon cupping both hands to her nose, wincing apologetically. “Sorry, unnie,” she whispers.

“It’s okay,” she whispers back, and plucks a few tissues from her nightstand to hand to her. The tip of Jiyeon’s nose is all red, her eyelids still heavy from sleep, hair adorably mussed. Hyunjung’s heart does funny things to her chest.

“Leave,” she tells Yangmal, nudging his . He doesn’t budge (because of course he doesn’t).

“No,” Jiyeon insists, catching her wrist and moving it away. “I have to become immune.”

“I don’t even know if that’s possible,” Hyunjung says.

“Well,” Jiyeon says stubbornly, even as she blows her nose again, “I want him here.”

Her voice is a touch raspier than usual, rough from sleep. Her nose is still stupidly red. Unfettered fondness swells in Hyunjung’s chest, and she tries without much success to swallow it down.

“Okay, okay, he can stay,” she murmurs, “Jiyeonie.”

Jiyeon blinks slowly at her. A fresh tissue is pressed to , but Hyunjung thinks she sees the ghost of a smile make its way across her face. “You haven’t called me that since you found out who I was.”

“Is it…” Hyunjung bites her lip. “Should I not have?”

The tissue trembles as Jiyeon laughs softly, and her next words cause heat to flood Hyunjung’s cheeks.

“It feels even better hearing you say it instead of just seeing it on my screen.”

 

---

 

If there was something Hyunjung hadn’t thought to account for, it was running into her father when letting Jiyeon out of the house.

“Hi, dad,” she says, stopping in her tracks, Jiyeon peeking out from behind her shoulder.

She’d forgotten to let him know a friend was staying over. And, of course, that said friend was a celebrity, but she doubts he—

“Hi,” he says, blinking in bemusement at them over his morning coffee. “Who’s this?”

“Hello,” Jiyeon says, stepping out from behind her and bowing respectfully. “My name is Jiyeon. Thank you for letting me stay over!”

She beams, dimples and all. Her dad returns it, and Hyunjung can tell he’s sufficiently charmed.

“Oh, it’s no trouble at all. I hope you had a good time,” he says, in that awkwardly considerate way of his. “Are you the same Jiyeon that our Hyunjung keeps going out to meet?”

“I think so,” Jiyeon answers, and looks over to her, eyes twinkling. “Unless you have another Jiyeon in your life.”

Hyunjung shakes her head dryly. “No other Jiyeon,” she promises. “Just you.”

“Good,” Jiyeon quips, and her father laughs.

“I guess I have you to thank for getting her out of the house more often,” he says. “She’s lucky to have you as a friend.”

“Oh, no,” Jiyeon tells him earnestly, and her fingers brush the inside of Hyunjung’s wrist ever so lightly as she smiles again. “I’m the lucky one.”

 

---

 

hyunjung
jiyeonie

jiyeon
no

hyunjung
……………ㅜ__ㅜ

jiyeon
i saw your tweet
and no

hyunjung
you’re the only one I know who knows mandarin………
juyeon says she’s still learning…
I’ll give you a free copy

jiyeon
it’s my face
i don’t want seasons greetings of myself
😕

hyunjung
but you want a free calendar
and a notebook
riiiight? :]

jiyeon
不要
你自己做
😕😕

hyunjung
i don’t know what that means ㅠㅠㅠㅠㅠ
are you really sulking because I’ve been stopping you from drinking 4 cups of coffee a day .

jiyeon
😕😕😕😕😕😕😕

hyunjung
you know it’s bad to drink as much as you do right
you’re halfway to a caffeine addiction
if not already there

jiyeon
unnie
you drink almost as much as me

hyunjung
the key word being almost

jiyeon
tHe kEy wOrD bEiNg aLmOsT

hyunjung
kim jiyeon.

jiyeon
unnie.

hyunjung
I won some vouchers bc I participated in a university study

jiyeon
ok good for you

hyunjung
it’s for a nice hotpot place ten minutes away from starship

jiyeon
…

hyunjung
:]
I have vouchers for 2 people including myself

jiyeon
so who are you planning to take

hyunjung
someone who sticks to drinking at most 3 cups of coffee a day

jiyeon
………
you’re playing dirty unnie

hyunjung
I know
so?

jiyeon
😕😕😕😕😕😕
i’ll be there

 

---

 

Hyunjung can’t say she hadn’t seen this coming, really.

Jiyeon is talented and beautiful, with a dreadfully disarming smile to boot. It makes sense that she has hordes of people fawning over her, and it also makes sense that fans and idols alike are drawn to her, just as Hyunjung is drawn to her, helpless to her magnetic charm.

All the same, as she stares unseeingly at the headline before her—WJSN’s Bona reportedly dating another idol for five years—she feels her chest constrict with something tight and uncomfortable.

It makes sense, she tells herself numbly, scrolling through the article she’s already scoured at least a dozen times. As an idol, Jiyeon is constantly surrounded by other beautiful, talented people. It makes sense that she would fall for one of them. She could have anyone she wanted; why would she settle for anything less? Why would she want someone as painfully normal as Hyunjung?

Her phone chimes merrily.

 

geundeokie
guys
did…you see…

chu sojung
NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

geundeokie
if he makes her happy……… ;-;

chu sojung
yeah yeah thats fine but
shes too pretty for him :/
i knew she was straight when she said she liked i love you 3000

geundeokie
you literally have that song in your playlist too??
where’s hyunjung unnie someone please check her pulse

chu sojung
@breadlover it’s going to be ok
they’re dating not married 🙏

 

Hyunjung silences her phone, letting it fall from her fingers and tumble facedown onto her bed. She’s not in the mood.

Yangmal jumps up onto her bed, tail flicking, and rubs against her shin; one of the rare times he’s approached her without her clamouring for his attention. Hyunjung lets herself slump forward, burying her face in his tummy, and whines into his wiry fur. Loudly. Yangmal stiffens, and graciously allows for a few seconds of this before letting out a very indignant yowl of protest and slinking out from under her, glaring balefully.

Her phone buzzes. Hyunjung ignores it, continuing to mope in her awkward, slumped-over position.

Then it buzzes again, and again. Someone is calling her. Either Sojung or Juyeon being dramatic, thinking they’d comfort her over news of her favourite idol dating. Hyunjung picks up her phone again, intending to turn it off. She glances down irritably at the screen, and nearly throws it across the room.

Jiyeon is the one calling her.

Hyunjung stares at her phone, mildly horrified. Why would Jiyeon be calling her?

Does she need someone to talk to after news of her scandal broke out? No—Jiyeon must have closer friends than Hyunjung to confide in. For starters, her six other members. Or her family. Or her boyfriend.

There’s a worse, more terrifying possibility, one that Hyunjung is too scared to let take root in her mind. Does Jiyeon know?

The buzzing stops. Hyunjung exhales slowly, her shoulders drooping.

Her phone lights up with another text.

 

jiyeon
unnie
call me back when you see this?

 

Hyunjung swallows thickly, panic mangled in . She’d taken care to rid herself of her pesky crush once it became clear to her that Jiyeon was someone unattainable, unreachable. When that hadn’t worked, she’d tried her best to keep her feelings hidden away, but it had been difficult, and every so often, she’d catch her gaze lingering, her eyes turning a touch too fond. Sometimes, when it was just the two of them, she’d dared to hope Jiyeon might’ve been doing the same.

She hurls her phone into her pillow, hugs her knees to her chest, and buries her face in them. Stupid. She’s Bona’s fansite master. That’s why Jiyeon even started talking to her in the first place. She knows her place as a fan, and it’s not one with any room for delusion.

Her pillow vibrates, angrily and incessantly. Jiyeon is trying to call her again.

Overwhelmed and ashamed of herself and her stupid crush, Hyunjung turns off her phone.

 

---

 

Two hours later, her doorbell rings.

Hyunjung knows her dad isn’t home, so she sighs, heaves herself out of bed, nearly trips over Yangmal, swears, and trudges over to open the door, muttering darkly under her breath I swear deliveries always come at the worst times—

As the door swings open and she sees who it is, she freezes in her tracks.

“Unnie,” Jiyeon says. She looks unusually jittery, hands clasped in front of her, fingers twisted together anxiously. “You, um…weren’t answering your phone.”

Hyunjung’s hand is white-knuckled around the doorknob. “I was taking a nap,” she lies feebly. “Sorry.”

Jiyeon shakes her head quickly. “That’s okay.”

A tense, awkward silence falls between them. Hyunjung’s hand is gripping the doorknob so tightly she half-fears it might fall off.

“Did you see the…” Jiyeon trails off, tentative.

Panic twists her tongue, chokes down her next words. “The?”

“Oh.” Jiyeon is back to fiddling nervously with her fingers. “I, um, had a dating scandal. There were a couple of articles about it.”

“Right, that.” Hyunjung nods a little too vigorously, then catches herself and tries her best to feign nonchalance. “Yeah, I saw. Are—are you okay?”

“It’s not true,” Jiyeon blurts.

Hyunjung blinks. “It’s…not?” she echoes.

“It’s not true,” Jiyeon repeats. “I’ve never even had a conversation with him that lasted more than ten minutes. Nothing they said in those articles was true. I’m not dating anyone.”

Hyunjung’s hand slackens around the doorknob.

So it isn’t true, she thinks woodenly, and then the tense, uncomfortable feeling in her chest dissolves into something resembling unease, because if Jiyeon texted and called and came to her house just to tell her this then—Jiyeon knows.

Hyunjung manages a weak, shaky laugh, keeping her eyes fixed on the ground, terrified of looking up and seeing the apologetic pity she’s sure is in Jiyeon’s eyes.

“Did you come all the way here just to tell me that?” she jokes, keeping her tone light.

Jiyeon falls silent at that, and it stretches for so long Hyunjung looks up. The normally confident, self-assured idol is staring at her; for a moment, she seems at a loss for words. “Well…yeah. I thought…”

“Thought what?” Hyunjung holds her breath, tense.

Jiyeon’s mouth moves soundlessly, like she isn’t quite sure what to say. Then she ducks her head. “Never mind. You weren’t answering your phone, so…that’s why I came,” she says quietly.

“I was taking a nap,” Hyunjung says again.

“Right.” Jiyeon nods slowly. “Yeah…so. I’m not dating him. You have nothing to worry about.”

Hyunjung is sure she’s misheard. “Worry?”

“You know, as my fansite,” Jiyeon says quickly.

Hyunjung forces another laugh, a disconcertingly loud one, as though the idea is ridiculous. “I’m not one of those fans, you know. You can date whoever you want.”

“Oh.” Jiyeon’s face falls for a split second, before it’s gone, replaced by her signature dazzling smile, a little too bright, a little too wide. “Yeah. Thanks.”

Neither of them says anything for a while. Jiyeon scuffs her sneaker on the ground, eyes trained on her doormat. Hyunjung clears .

“Are you okay?” she asks again, gently. “It must’ve been hard being under so much scrutiny.”

Jiyeon nods. “I’m fine, unnie.” Another smile. “It’ll blow over.”

Hyunjung hesitates, then tilts her head in the direction of her room. “I have hot chocolate. And blankets. And movies?”

Jiyeon isn’t meeting her eyes. “I should get back to the dorm. I don’t think our manager would want me to stay out for too long. He’s been trying to call me for the past hour.”

“Right.” Hyunjung nods slowly, trying not to let her disappointment show. She berates herself for even offering; Jiyeon is someone with a busy schedule, navigating the treacherous waters of a dating scandal. She doesn’t have time to huddle with Hyunjung under childish pillow forts and watch childish movies. “Yeah. Sure.”

As Jiyeon turns to leave, Hyunjung catches hold of her arm. “Are you sure you’re okay?” she asks haltingly.

“Yeah.” Jiyeon smiles at her softly, easing herself out of her grasp. “Don’t worry, unnie.”

 

---

 

Hyunjung waits six hours and twenty-two minutes (she counts) before she finally deems it acceptable to text Jiyeon. She has an excuse prepared, of course—she’d seen no small number of unkind comments on the articles that reported Jiyeon’s scandal, some from his fans, one or two from hers. Even though Starship has officially denied the rumours and most of the hate has died down, Hyunjung still worries.

She unlocks her phone, winces past the barrage of texts and missed calls, and types a carefully worded, I’m here for you, let me know if you want to talk or hang

She presses Send, lays her phone down on her bed, and waits.

 

---

 

Jiyeon doesn’t reply. Hyunjung worries her bottom lip between her teeth all day.

 

---

 

It’s not until two days later that her phone chimes with a text from Jiyeon, and Hyunjung snatches it up, eyes wide.

 

jiyeon
thanks unnie ^^
im ok

 

Hyunjung stares at the screen, waiting, but Jiyeon doesn’t say anything else. Her fingers hover uncertainly over the keyboard.

 

hyunjung
I found a really nice coffee shop the other day
it’s nice and quiet!
let me treat you to coffee
you deserve it ㅜㅜ

 

She puts her phone down to concentrate on her homework. Peeks at it surreptitiously. Pushes her phone away. Peeks at it again.

Her phone remains silent for the rest of the day.

 

---

 

jiyeon
it’s okay!
i don’t think i can
we’re getting pretty busy nowadays
sorry ;;

hyunjung
don’t worry!!
the important thing is that you’re okay
we can always hang out another time!
:]

 

---

 

hyunjung
ah! my new film camera just came in
I know you’re busy nowadays
but do you want to go on another photography adventure soon?
we can try that trail you wanted to explore a few weeks back! the one next to our spot on the hill
juyeon told me her friend told her it has a really good view

 

---

 

 

jiyeon
sorry unnie…
i don’t think i can

hyunjung
that’s okay, next time!
you sound really busy, I hope you’re getting enough rest
goodnight
jiyeonie :]

 

---

 

 

On the last day of December, Hyunjung finds herself sprawled on the floor of Juyeon's bedroom amidst soju bottles, bags of chips, and carcasses of chicken wings long since picked clean. One of Sojung’s playlists is on loop in the background, slow and mellow.

Drinking today is most certainly a bad idea. As is usually the case with bad ideas in her life, Chu Sojung had been involved; she’d insisted that they get together to commemorate Juyeon’s first official drink as a legal adult. Hyunjung’s alcohol tolerance is abysmal; about half a bottle on a good day, half that on a normal day. She squints foggily at the shot glasses in front of her.

“The problem,” she slurs, rolling so that her head lolls sloppily onto Juyeon’s thigh, “is that I don’t even know how much I’ve had.”

Sojung pats her half-heartedly from where she’s slumped over Juyeon’s other thigh. “Two, unnie.”

“Bottles? ” Hyunjung frowns slowly. “That…can’t be right.”

“Or one and…something.” Sojung scratches her head. “I think I drank the rest of yours.”

“My legs are falling asleep,” Juyeon complains loudly, and puts her hands on their heads as if to shove them off. Hyunjung doesn’t even flinch. She’s too drunk to move—and besides, Juyeon would never.

Sojung doesn’t share the same sentiment; she whines and bats blindly at Juyeon’s arm until Juyeon lets go (after a fair bit of grumbling).

Just as Hyunjung is valiantly attempting to reach for another bag of chips, her phone chimes, and she nearly bangs her head on a table leg trying to look at the screen.

It’s her dad, asking what time she’ll be back home.

Juyeon makes a sympathetic noise from behind her. “Still nothing?”

Hyunjung puts her phone down miserably and buries her face in Juyeon’s knee. “No.”

The last thing she wants to think about is how Jiyeon has gone from making excuses not to hang out with her to flat out not responding to her texts at all, so she tugs on Juyeon’s sleeve and says, “I don’t want to talk about her tonight.”

“Okay, unnie,” Juyeon says easily, handing her the bag of chips she hadn’t been able to reach. “We won’t.”

“Who’s Jiyeon? Don’t know her,” Sojung slurs, waving her empty soju bottle in the air.

“Exactly,” Hyunjung says. “You know what we can talk about instead? Juyeon finally getting Seulgi’s number.”

At least one of them has a successful love life.

“Ah,” Juyeon whines, and Hyunjung grins, instinctively reaching over to steady the bottle Juyeon almost knocks over in her flustered state. “It was for a project! ”

“Isn’t it just the two of you doing this project together?” Sojung interjects, blindly trying to pat Juyeon on the shoulder and completely missing. “You casanova—”

“We got paired up by the teacher!” Juyeon pushes Sojung’s flailing hand from her nose. “ Stop— ”

Hyunjung flops back down onto Juyeon’s knee, watching them tussle with some degree of fondness. Her head is already buzzing lightly from the soju, and it makes it easy to focus on her noisy best friends and treat everything else like white noise.

She won’t think about Jiyeon today.

 

---

 

Another bottle later (or less than that? Sojung might have drunk some of it again, it’s hazy), Hyunjung is hiccuping into Juyeon’s knee, cheeks flushed crimson.

“I miss her so much,” she whispers.

She half-hopes they won’t hear her over the sound of Sojung’s music, but they both fall silent, looking at her. Juyeon picks up her phone, swiping to find something.

“Unnie, here,” she says. “Just look at her face. It always makes you feel better.”

It’s a picture of Bona.

Hyunjung tries to laugh, but it comes out all wobbly and wrong, so she buries her face back into Juyeon’s knee. “Thanks.”

Sojung props herself up on her elbows. “It must be bad if even Bona can’t fix this,” she comments, shoving a handful of chips into .

Reluctantly, Hyunjung peeks at the picture. Bona is looking right at the camera, tongue caught between her teeth, eyes cheeky.

“I took this,” she mutters. Then she turns her face into Juyeon’s knee again, because seeing Jiyeon’s face right now is doing nothing to help her poor soju-addled pining brain.

“Yeah, I know.” Juyeon squints at her. “I thought you liked photos where she was posing for your camera.”

Sojung pulls at her sleeve sloppily. “You need to show her one where she’s smiling. Duh. ”

“You really don’t need to,” Hyunjung says hastily.

“I’ll find one,” Juyeon says, determined.

“It’s easy.” Sojung yawns, lying down again. “Her Twitter is full of them. You know, sometimes I think you might be Bona’s favourite fansite, unnie.”

“She definitely is.” Juyeon smooths some of her hair behind her ear, and Hyunjung knows they’re trying to make her feel better. “The other Bona fansites don’t have anywhere near as many pictures of her smiling at their cameras as you do.”

“I told you the sign would work,” Sojung slurs.

“I don’t want to talk about Bona either,” Hyunjung mumbles into Juyeon’s knee, tongue loose from inebriation, and winces at the stunned silence that follows.

Then Sojung snatches up her phone, promptly drops it on the floor, picks it up again, and jabs at the screen. Pantomime stops playing mid-chorus and switches to a different artist, one that Hyunjung hasn’t heard before (Sojung has a lot of those). Juyeon closes Twitter and puts her phone, along with Hyunjung’s, some distance away from them, at least where it’s out of Hyunjung’s reach.

Sojung cracks open another bottle of soju and holds it out to her. “Then let’s drink, unnie.”

This is a bad idea. Hyunjung is, if Sojung is to be believed, long past her usual meagre limit of half a bottle. Her cheeks are flushed to an extent that’s almost embarrassing, and whenever she tries to raise her head from Juyeon’s lap the room starts to spin.

This is a very bad idea. Terrible, in fact.

She eyes her silent phone lying on the floor across from her and takes the bottle from Sojung.

 

---

 

Hyunjung wakes to sunlight streaming blithely into her bedroom and a persistent headache gnawing at her temples. She rubs at her eyes with the heel of her hand and frowns into her pillow.

She’s in her own bed, with zero recollection of how she got here.

Her hand slithers out from under the covers to retrieve her phone from her nightstand. Squinting at the screen makes her eyes hurt and her head throb in mild protest, but the only notifications she has are a handful of messy texts from Juyeon, sent at four in the morning.

 

geundeokie
unnies did yuo get homo safe
homo
homo
homo
HIME
HOME***

 

Hyunjung texts back a quick good morning, juyeon-ah, reluctantly untangles herself from her sheets, and shuffles blearily to the kitchen to get water for her hangover, one hand pressed gingerly to her temple.

Something square and yellow flutters lightly on the table, caught in the breeze from the open window. It’s a post-it, pasted next to a little plastic to-go tub of soup.

 

your dad let me in. drink this—when you feel better, i’ll be waiting at our spot

— ^^

 

The glass of water slips from her fingers and falls onto the table, water splattering messily everywhere. The ink on the post-it bleeds reproachfully onto her fingers as she snatches it up, eyes widening in horror.

In the next second, she’s jabbing frantically at her phone.

“Sojung,” Hyunjung says when she picks up, the words tripping over each other as they spill out of , “what happened last night?”

“What?” Sojung croaks. “Unnie, do you know what time it is?”

“It’s eleven in the morning,” Hyunjung says impatiently.

“We slept at four!”

“Do you remember what happened? I don’t remember how I even got home.”

“I put you in a taxi and helped you get into bed,” Sojung tells her. “You were practically passed out on my shoulder already.”

“And before that?” Hyunjung presses. “What were we doing?”

“I don’t know.” Hyunjung pictures Sojung frowning on the other end of the line, her eyebrows slanting as she tries to remember. “It’s kinda hazy. I think you called someone.”

Hyunjung pales. “I called someone? I thought Juyeon took my phone—”

“Juyeon was passed out on the floor after bragging for five minutes straight about how she was the only one still sober.” Sojung chortles.

Hyunjung falls lifelessly into the chair beside her. “Okay…so I called someone. What did I say?”

“You were whining, I think.” Sojung pauses, thinks it over. “You were whining a lot. ”

“What was I whining?” Hyunjung asks, dreading the answer.

A longer pause. “I don’t remember. I was drunk off my and looking at pictures of Soobin.”

“ Ugh. Bye.” Hyunjung hangs up, making a face.

After some hesitation, she taps on her call log, and her heart plummets to her feet.

Right below Sojung’s name, she’d made an outgoing call at three in the morning. She stares in some despair at the contact name, squeezes her eyes shut and desperately wills it to be a figment of her imagination.

Tentatively, she opens her eyes.

 

✆ chu sojung 11:36 am
✆ jiyeon 3:09 am

 

.

 

---

 

Hyunjung isn’t usually one for strenuous exercise. She’ll keep fit if she has to, but she much prefers staying still while doing it. Something like yoga or pilates or lying in bed searching up YouTube videos of abs workouts you can do in bed.

Which is why after she sprints two steps at a time up the beaten stairway to their spot, the autumn chill crisp in , she’s gulping lungfuls of air, hands on her knees.

“You didn’t need to run so fast, unnie,” a familiar voice says, tinged with amusement.

Hyunjung freezes, straightening up slowly. Jiyeon is perched on the granite table, regarding her with a small smile, legs swinging back and forth. A dark pea coat hangs loosely off her shoulders, just a little too big for her slim frame. There’s a camera in her hands; Hyunjung recognises it as the one she’d picked out for her.

“Y-you said you were waiting for me.”

“I have the day off.” Jiyeon shrugs. Her fingers toy idly with the camera in her hands. “I would’ve waited longer.”

“Oh.”

The sun’s light is soft today, smudged by generous tufts of clouds. It’s softer yet on Jiyeon’s face, spilling off loose waves of hair and touching her cheeks with pale gold. This is the first time in weeks that she’s seen Jiyeon, and she can’t seem to tear her eyes away. Hyunjung swallows heavily, taking a half-step towards her.

Jiyeon tilts her head, smiling like she knows exactly what’s going through Hyunjung’s head, and Hyunjung catches herself before she gets any closer. She rocks back on her heels, shoving her fists into her pocket and clenching them until her nails bite into her palms, resolutely avoiding Jiyeon’s eyes, terrified of hearing something like why did you call me at 3am or delete my number and stop trying to contact me.

An icy panic grips , and the denial spills out of before she can second-guess it.

“Whatever I said last night, I’m so sorry,” she blurts.

She looks up just in time to catch Jiyeon raising an eyebrow. “You’re sorry?”

“My alcohol tolerance is really low—I didn’t mean to call you, I don’t know what I was thinking—” Hyunjung stammers.

“So you don’t miss me?”

Hyunjung stares at her, aghast. “I said…okay.” She presses the heel of her hand to her forehead. “What else did I say?”

Jiyeon’s face is a little hard to read. “You don’t remember?”

“Please just tell me.” Hyunjung’s hand drifts to her temple; her headache from this morning gnawing at the edges, threatening to creep back in.

Jiyeon’s lips twitch slightly. “You also said that Yangmal misses me.”

Hyunjung exhales. She drags a hand down her face. “I’m sorry for bothering you,” she mumbles. “I don’t usually drink that much. It won’t happen again.”

Jiyeon hums, putting down her camera. She reaches out, grasps Hyunjung’s jacket, and tugs hard.

Hyunjung stumbles towards her with a surprised yelp, hands flailing. She just barely catches herself in time before she falls on top of Jiyeon, hands braced awkwardly on either side of her hips.

She blinks rapidly at her, caught off guard, embarrassment colouring her cheeks. Jiyeon just dimples back innocently. “You were too far. It was hard to talk to you.”

“What—that’s not—you could hear me perfectly fine where I was standing,” Hyunjung sputters.

“So pull back if you want to, unnie,” Jiyeon tells her, letting go of her coat. She smiles again.

Hyunjung stares at her, speechless.

“Why did you pick up?” she says finally.

“I thought it would’ve been obvious by now.”

It’s not to Hyunjung—not when Jiyeon has spent the better part of the month dodging her texts and attempts to meet up.

Jiyeon watches her as she tries to think it over. “It’s still not obvious to you, is it?”

“No,” Hyunjung admits. “You must have had better things to do than to listen to me drunk ramble at three in the morning.”

“I did.” Jiyeon looks thoughtful. “I could’ve been sleeping. Or learning the choreography to our new song. Or going over my script.” Her gaze turns wry. “I really should’ve been reading my script.”

Hyunjung starts to pull back, but Jiyeon is quicker. Her fingers circle Hyunjung’s wrists, anchoring her in place. “And yet at three in the morning, there I was, listening to your drunk rambling.” Jiyeon fixes her with a playful look. “You can’t hold your alcohol very well, can you, unnie?”

“I’m not usually like that,” Hyunjung protests. “I was drinking past my limit—”

“Mm. Of half a bottle?”

Hyunjung sighs, resigned. “I told you that too?”

“I asked.”

“So why?” Hyunjung says, starting to get frustrated now.

“Why did I ask?”

“Why did you put up with my drunk rambling at three in the morning when you had better things to do?”

“You tell me, unnie.” Jiyeon arches an eyebrow at her, faint amusement twinkling in her eyes. “Or, better yet—why don’t you tell me why I was the one you drunk called at three in the morning?”

Hyunjung reddens immediately. “I can’t tell you that.” She tries to pull back again, but Jiyeon’s grip is surprisingly firm. “I thought you said I could pull back if I wanted to.”

“You can.” Jiyeon relaxes her hold on her wrists, mischief colouring her voice. “I’ll just pull you back in again.”

Hyunjung lets out a soft exhale of disbelief.

“Kim Jiyeon.”

“Unnie.”

And here it is, Hyunjung’s greatest weakness just inches from her. Jiyeon’s eyes curve and crinkle at the corners as she beams, dimples creasing her cheeks, bright and devastating. The budding panic in constricts almost painfully.

“Whatever I said when I called you, I’m sorry,” she says. “I say a lot of things I don’t mean when I get drunk.”

For the first time since she’s gotten here, the playful smile falters off Jiyeon’s face. Uncertainty flickers in her gaze. Then it turns steely.

“Okay.” The fingers around her wrist tighten. “How about this, unnie: I’ll tell you what you told me last night, and you can tell me if it is or isn’t true.”

Hyunjung’s eyes widen. “Wait—”

“Let’s start off easy. One. Your alcohol tolerance is half a bottle of soju.”

Hyunjung gapes at her soundlessly. Jiyeon doesn’t say anything else, raising an eyebrow and waiting patiently.

“It’s true,” she relents. Jiyeon’s head dips, her lips pressed together funny, and Hyunjung mutters, “Don’t laugh.”

“I’m not laughing, unnie.” Jiyeon smiles innocently at her. “Two. You said Yangmal missed me.”

Hyunjung wants to bury her face in her hands, but Jiyeon’s grip is like iron. “I don’t know if that one’s true,” she mumbles. “Yangmal is a very hard cat to read.”

“Fair enough,” Jiyeon concedes, mouth quirking. She hesitates for a beat, then says, “Three. You said you missed me.”

The denial is on the tip of Hyunjung’s tongue. Twenty minutes ago, she wouldn’t have thought before saying it. But she’s tired, and there’s something uncharacteristically open and vulnerable in Jiyeon’s expression, in the way her fingers tighten around Hyunjung’s wrists. Hyunjung is steadily running out of the will to suppress the longing that has festered for months unchecked.

“Yes,” she admits quietly. “It’s true.”

There’s a pause.

“Four,” Jiyeon says, her voice soft. “You asked me if you’d scared me off. When I asked what you meant, you said you liked me. More than you should.”

The confession hangs tensely in the air between them. Hyunjung struggles to form some kind of response, an excuse, a lie, anything to prevent the impending end to their friendship she’s sure is coming.

Jiyeon’s hands slip from her wrists to cover her hands. There, her index finger runs back-and-forth over Hyunjung’s wristbone; slowly, tentatively. What’s left of Hyunjung’s resolve crumbles pathetically. She hangs her head, defeated.

“It’s true,” she whispers.

She doesn’t dare to raise her head to look Jiyeon in the eyes, fearing what she might find there. Jiyeon isn’t holding her wrists anymore, so it’s easy to pull back, turn on her heel, and walk away—

Something grasps the back of her jacket. A chin lands on her shoulder.

“Five,” Jiyeon murmurs into her ear, arms slipping around her waist. “But I don’t need to ask, because I know this one isn’t true. You were sad because you said I wouldn’t ever like you back. You said you weren’t good enough for me.”

“That one’s true too—”

“Unnie, ” Jiyeon says, indignant. Then, softer, “How could you not know? Every moment I spent with you, every smile just for your camera, picking up photography as an excuse to get closer to you, coming all the way to your house before I even spoke to our manager just to tell you my dating scandal wasn’t true. How could you not have known?”

For several long moments, Hyunjung is frozen in place. Her heart thunders in her chest. Slowly, she turns around in Jiyeon’s arms to face her again. “Wait. You mean…”

Jiyeon’s forehead drops onto her shoulder, her breathless laugh stifled by Hyunjung’s jacket. “Yes, unnie. I like you too. A lot more than I should.”

“I’m stupid,” Hyunjung says in wonder.

Her hands hesitantly come up to wind around Jiyeon’s waist, and Jiyeon takes it as an invitation to burrow deeper into her jacket. Tentatively, Hyunjung pulls her even closer, and she’s rewarded with a muffled noise of contentment.

“Mm.” Jiyeon hums into her shoulder. She giggles. “Maybe a little.”

Her arms tighten around Hyunjung, fingers wedging themselves into the creases of her jacket, and Hyunjung’s heart threatens to beat out of her chest.

“You could have anyone you wanted,” she whispers into Jiyeon’s hair. “You know that, right? That you could have literally anyone you wanted?”

“Maybe.” Jiyeon turns, her nose trailing goosebumps along the crook of Hyunjung’s neck. Her lips brush ever so gently against Hyunjung’s jawline, and Hyunjung goes perfectly still, cheeks flushed crimson. “And now I do.”

 

---

 

Later, as mellow pinks and oranges streak the horizon, Hyunjung tips her chin upwards, closes her eyes, and lets the evening breeze ruffle her hair. Jiyeon’s head is on her shoulder, her arm hooked loosely through hers, her skin pleasantly warm on Hyunjung’s.

The weight on her shoulder lifts, and she hears the distinct click of a camera shutter.

Hyunjung startles, looking at Jiyeon, who lowers her camera, smiling. “Why,” she protests.

Jiyeon winds the film forward. “No reason,” she says innocently. “Take one with me, unnie.”

“A selfie with a film camera?” Hyunjung says, but she lets Jiyeon pull her in anyway, scrunching up her nose for the shot. Just before Jiyeon presses the shutter, Hyunjung boldly presses her cheek to hers.

Jiyeon lowers her arm to wind the film forward, smiling to herself. Hyunjung can see the pink dusting her cheeks, and it sends a giddy thrill through her.

“One more,” Jiyeon says, and raises the camera in front of them again.

The last dying rays of sunlight glimmer in her eyes, trail her cheekbones as the sun sinks below the horizon. Her ears are red from the autumn chill, cheeks still faintly pink from their earlier proximity. Hyunjung’s breath catches in .

“Unnie,” Jiyeon chastises, “you’re supposed to be looking at the camera, I can’t hold it up forever.”

“Sorry,” Hyunjung murmurs, but she can't tear her eyes away.

“Unnie,” Jiyeon says again, turning to her and frowning.

Hyunjung doesn’t know what her expression looks like, but whatever Jiyeon sees there is enough for the frown to slip off her face, her features softening in tentative wonder. Her lips part. Hyunjung’s eyes dip down before she can stop herself, and she’s only barely conscious of herself inching forward, caught in Jiyeon’s magnetic pull like she always has been.

Jiyeon’s breath catches. Hyunjung feels it puff gently against her own lips. Jiyeon’s tongue darts out to wet her lips, and Hyunjung’s head spins.

She closes what little distance there is between them, cradles her jaw with a gentle hand and brushes her lips against hers, once, twice. A third time isn’t enough, so Hyunjung does it again. Jiyeon’s lips are soft, the scent of her shampoo heady, and the muted whine in the back of as Hyunjung kisses her is nothing short of heart-stopping. Hyunjung feels clumsy, exhilarated. She kisses her slowly, gently, as if afraid she’ll break her, shatter this quiet, intimate bubble in which only the two of them exist.

Jiyeon, it seems, has no such qualms. One of her hands winds around Hyunjung’s waist as she presses closer, deepening the kiss, and the other—the other drops her camera and slides into Hyunjung’s hair—

Hyunjung breaks the kiss to catch it in both hands, gasping, “Careful. This is vintage. It’s expensive.”

Jiyeon huffs in annoyance, hands themselves in her jacket and pulling her closer. “I don’t care. I’ll just buy another one.”

“Rich people,” Hyunjung mutters, even as Jiyeon yanks her back in.

 

---

 

“So when did you…”

Jiyeon rolls over amongst the pillows so that she’s facing her. “When did I?”

“You know,” Hyunjung says, embarrassed. “When did you start…”

Jiyeon doesn’t say anything, waiting for her to continue. Her eyes twinkle, and Hyunjung realises she’s doing this on purpose. She buries her face into her own pillow.

“You know what I mean,” she mumbles into the cotton.

“I don’t think I do, unnie,” Jiyeon says, her voice low and amused. “Finish your sentence.”

“When did you start liking me,” Hyunjung says, now very embarrassed, and Jiyeon’s smile grows.

“Wouldn’t you like to know,” she sings.

“What—hey!” Hyunjung protests, as Jiyeon rolls onto her back and dimples insufferably at the ceiling.

“When do you think it was?”

Hyunjung splutters. “I—don’t know?”

“Guess.”

“You are very mean,” Hyunjung complains into her pillow.

She hears a giggle. In the next second, Jiyeon’s lips are pressed to her temple. “Sorry, unnie,” Jiyeon whispers, breath puffing against her skin, barely-contained mirth in her voice. “I think it’s cute when you get all red like that.”

Hyunjung doesn’t know what to say to that, so she throws out something at random. “When we first met up?”

“That’s a boring guess,” Jiyeon tells her snarkily, and Hyunjung sighs into her pillow.

“I give up,” she says.

The sheets rustle as Jiyeon shifts closer, and then she’s burrowing under Hyunjung’s arm, tucking herself into the crook of her neck. Hyunjung stiffens, taking care to keep her arm still even as Jiyeon jostles her, and wonders if Jiyeon can hear her pulse thudding, can feel the crimson heat that warms her skin at her proximity.

Slowly, she angles her head downwards, and her lips brush Jiyeon’s forehead. Jiyeon’s contented hum sends shivers down her neck. Her arm winds around Hyunjung, pulling her closer, and the warmth it carves into Hyunjung’s skin makes her next words vulnerable.

“I just—why me?”

Jiyeon is quiet for a moment. Hyunjung feels the hem of her shirt dip as Jiyeon’s fingers toy idly with it, and it makes her insides jittery.

“You know, it’s funny you say that, unnie,” she says finally. Her low chuckle vibrates in the hollow of Hyunjung’s collarbone. “I think I noticed you before you noticed me.”

Hyunjung frowns. “No, you didn’t.”

“You were with a friend that day,” Jiyeon says, “Sojung, right? I remember. I saw you in the crowd that day talking to her, and I remember thinking…wow, she’s pretty.”

Her nose presses into Hyunjung’s skin as she hides in her shoulder, momentarily shy, while Hyunjung’s lips part, stunned.

“But I didn’t think much of it at the time, you know?” she continues. “There are a lot of pretty fans, and—” her voice turns amused “—I thought you were an anti.”

She raises her head and puts her finger to Hyunjung’s mouth, silencing the protest on the tip of her tongue. “I know you weren’t, but that’s what I thought at the time. And then I saw you in the front row of our fanmeeting and wondered, what is an anti doing in the front row?”

“And then you realised I wasn’t an anti,” Hyunjung says hopefully.

“Yup,” Jiyeon says cheerfully, “then I thought you must have been an akgae.”

Hyunjung groans into her hair. Jiyeon shakes with quiet laughter.

“So why did you smile at me?”

She feels Jiyeon’s lips quirk against her neck. “You remember?”

The memory is seared into Hyunjung’s mind. The pounding bass, fans screaming themselves hoarse, the spotlights making her head ache; and Jiyeon radiant under their glow, crouched down on the very edge of the stage, jet-black hair tumbling down her shoulders, eyes curving dazzlingly at her.

“I guess,” she mumbles.

Jiyeon hums in thought. “It didn’t really matter to me that you didn’t like me. You were at our fanmeeting, so I treated you like I’d treat any other fan. But then—” her brows furrow as she thinks “—then you started showing up at our events. And your camera had my name on it.”

Her voice is soft, wondering.

“That’s—” Hyunjung frowns, skeptical. “Okay, you couldn’t have noticed me in the middle of that many people.”

“Not all the time, but enough that I wondered,” Jiyeon says. Her eyes twinkle as she tips her chin upward to look Hyunjung in the eye. “You and your friends were always in the front, which made it easier, and—like I said before, unnie, you’re hard to miss, even in a crowd.”

Hyunjung reddens and stares mutely at the ceiling.

“So you showed up again, and again, and soon enough…” Jiyeon’s face goes back into her shoulder. “I found myself looking for you each time. Out of curiosity.”

She raises her head. “And then I swear I just wanted to help you at first! I had a spare ticket because my stupid brother bailed and you were my biggest fansite!”

Her voice is emphatic, defensive. Hyunjung raises an eyebrow, hiding a smile. “I didn’t say anything.”

Jiyeon holds her gaze defiantly for several long seconds. Hyunjung’s lips curl upward.

“Shut up,” Jiyeon mutters, and Hyunjung feels her nose dig into her shoulder again. “I was just curious, okay?”

“You knew I was a fan after my first fansign with you, though,” Hyunjung tells her. “Didn’t you?”

Jiyeon is silent for a long moment. Then she declares, “I don’t want to talk about this anymore.”

Hyunjung noses the crown of her head affectionately, hiding her smile in her hair. “Okay, Jiyeonie.”

With Jiyeon’s face pressed to her shoulder, Hyunjung can’t see very much of her besides her ears, peeking through a curtain of hair. The tips of them are stark crimson, and warmth courses through her at the sight.

“You’re wrong, by the way,” she murmurs, and Jiyeon finally looks up. “About you noticing me first. I noticed you the second you stepped down from that van.”

“Ah—” Jiyeon’s fist lands on her shoulder. She sounds embarrassed. Hyunjung’s grin turns smug.

Everyone else can have Bona, coy and charming, the picture-perfect idol who knows exactly what to say, exactly what to do to turn heads, make everyone in the room fall for her. But only Hyunjung can have Jiyeon, nestled in her arms in the middle of a ridiculous pillow fort, hair mussed and makeup undone, blushing and fumbling for words.

“I don’t think I answered your question,” Jiyeon says softly, after a while.

“Hmm?”

“Your first one. There was this time—and I don’t think you even remember, it’s happened so many times since—maybe two months after we started talking. Somehow you’d gotten me to admit I was having a bad day. I couldn’t get this one line right while recording a song, I was worried about filming an emotional scene in my drama the next day, and the kids were worrying about our comeback not charting well. I couldn’t sleep because I was so stressed. Do you remember?”

Hyunjung doesn’t. Jiyeon’s fingers find the hem of her shirt again, fiddling with it, and she continues, “It was three in the morning, and you were telling me the most nonsensical things. Like…you buying yourself a jacket you really liked and then leaving it in a taxi. Juyeon buying you your favourite food, only for Sojung to accidentally stick her hand in it and ruin the whole thing. Yangmal not letting you cuddle him even though you offered him the best part of your favourite bread.”

Hyunjung stays quiet, listening, her hand ghosting tenderly over Jiyeon’s hair.

“You talked to me until I fell asleep,” Jiyeon says. Her quiet laugh trembles against Hyunjung’s collarbone. “Even though you had classes the next day.”

“Why don’t I remember this?” Hyunjung says, frowning.

“You’ve never had a good memory, unnie. I’m not surprised.” Jiyeon says, sounding amused. She pauses, then says, “I thought I was doomed, because I was falling for a fan who didn’t even know who I was. So I tried to stop talking to you so much, but that didn’t work, because by that point I liked talking to you too much—”

Her head ducks back into the safety of Hyunjung’s neck. Hyunjung brushes a kiss against her forehead, her heart swelling almost unbearably in her chest.

“You were my bright spot through endless schedules and long hours in the practice room,” Jiyeon says. “Even if I couldn’t tell you exactly why I was sad or tired. I just liked talking to you. There are times when I can’t say how I really feel in front of the kids, ‘cause they need someone strong to lead them. You helped a lot.”

Hyunjung draws her closer, arms tightening around her. Briefly, she fantasises about her embrace alone shielding Jiyeon from the world and all its hardships. “I didn’t know,” she murmurs.

“Well.” Jiyeon pokes her, and her tone lightens with her next words. “What about you? What about that crush you said you had?”

“Huh?” Hyunjung frowns, then the memory hits her, and she flushes pink. “Uh…”

“I was sad about it, unnie.” Jiyeon laughs. “And then I told myself I had no right to be sad, because I’d been lying to you about who I was.” She eyes her. “So? What happened to your crush?”

“Hm?” Hyunjung presses a kiss to her jaw, and Jiyeon shivers lightly in her arms. “I think I still like them.”

She watches as Jiyeon’s face goes stiff with surprise.

In the next second, she’s wriggling out of Hyunjung’s arms. But Hyunjung locks her hands together, smiling, and after a while Jiyeon sags defeatedly in her hold. Her eyebrows are furrowed, bottom lip pushed all the way out. Hyunjung tries very hard not to laugh.

“Go be with them, then,” Jiyeon sulks. She won’t look at her.

“I am with them,” Hyunjung says, and watches the realisation dawn slowly on her face. Jiyeon’s fist lands on her shoulder for the second time that day.

“Unnie!”

 

---

 

Starship’s dance practice room is, admittedly, bigger than she thought it would be.

Hyunjung thinks it would be a lot better if she had somewhere comfortable to sit, other than a hard bench or a cold wooden floor, but she can’t really complain, not when Jiyeon slumps onto the floor beside her and drapes herself dramatically over her lap, dislodging the assignment she’d been working on.

“I’m tired, unnie.” Her voice peters out into a whine at the end, and Hyunjung bites her lip to hide her smile. She lifts her hand to comb it through Jiyeon’s hair, carefully smoothing down the flyaway strands that have escaped her ponytail.

“Then rest.”

“But I need to learn this choreography…”

“Then get up and keep dancing.”

Jiyeon grumbles into her knee. “You’re no help at all.”

On impulse, Hyunjung bends down and presses a feather-light kiss to the tender skin at the nape of Jiyeon’s neck, and a frisson of giddiness runs through her at the way Jiyeon’s breath hitches softly. Her other hand comes up to glide hesitantly down her back, over taut muscles and the deep valley of her spine.

“You’re tense,” she murmurs, thumb easing away the knots she finds, eyes trained on her homework.

Jiyeon mumbles something sleepy and incoherent, arms dangling haphazardly off her lap.

“You need rest.”

“I need coffee.”

“Nope.” Hyunjung turns a page. “Three cups a day.”

Jiyeon grumbles again, but lets it slide. Hyunjung is just about to distractedly remark how proud of her she is, when she notices a hand surreptitiously reaching behind her.

Sighing, she moves her own cup of iced coffee away, out of Jiyeon’s reach. “No.”

Teeth sink into her knee, sharp even over the thick denim of her jeans.

“Hey—ow!” Hyunjung complains loudly.

“Sorry,” Jiyeon says, voice dripping with insincerity.

Hyunjung glances down in fond exasperation, then returns her gaze to her homework. “Stop. I’m nearly done, and if I finish this Juyeon says we can go to the university perfor—”

She stops mid-sentence. Jiyeon rolls off her lap and sits up slowly. “To the…what?”

“Just some performance. At our university,” Hyunjung says, her voice an octave higher than usual. “Nothing big.”

“Hmm.” Jiyeon’s eyes narrow. “And I suppose this doesn’t have anything to do with us performing at a university this Friday?”

“No,” Hyunjung says quickly. Jiyeon’s finger prods her in the shoulder.

“You’re a terrible liar, unnie.”

Hyunjung deflates. “It’s just one performance…”

“And you have a test next Monday.” Jiyeon drops back down into her lap, flinging her hands out emphatically. ”Why do you want to go take pictures, anyway? You have the real thing right here. ”

“It’s not about taking pictures,” Hyunjung protests. “I just miss seeing you guys perform.”

“Hmm,” Jiyeon says again. She looks like she’s about to say more, but then the door opens, and someone steps in. Hyunjung stiffens, hand on Jiyeon’s shoulder, unsure whether she should be pushing her away.

As it turns out, she hadn’t needed to worry.

“Oh! Hyunjung unnie!” Surprise flits across Dayoung’s face, before it turns into glee. “So nice to see you here." To Jiyeon, she says, “So nice to see you’re hard at work at learning the choreography, unnie.”

“Im Dayoung,” Jiyeon complains. “I can’t get some of the moves right. Why is it so hard?”

“You’ve spent too long as an actress, unnie,” Dayoung quips. “You’re just rusty.”

“No, there’s this one floor move that makes my back hurt—”

“Then that’s just because you’re old,” Dayoung tells her. A startled laugh spills out from Hyunjung’s mouth, and Dayoung turns to look at her, eyes twinkling.

“Hey, come here.” Jiyeon beckons her over imperiously from where she’s still sprawled in Hyunjung’s lap, and then lunges upward, her hand whizzing forward and narrowly missing Dayoung’s backside. Dayoung squeals loudly, shying away.

“Unnie, how could you laugh,” Jiyeon says sulkily, dropping back down onto her lap. “You’re older than me. ”

“You two can argue over your old age when I’m gone, I just came to get my charger,” Dayoung says. “Oh—Hyunjung unnie, can I talk to you for a second?”

Hyunjung blinks. “Me? Sure.”

Jiyeon sits up, eyeing Dayoung suspiciously. “For what?”

“None of your business, ahjumma,” Dayoung tells her cheekily. “Hyunjung unnie, let’s go outside.”

“So, unnie, how have you been?” Dayoung asks. She crosses her arms and leans back, smiling pleasantly. Something in her sharp gaze and laidback posture reminds Hyunjung uncannily of a predator biding its time, waiting for the right moment to pounce.

“Fine,” Hyunjung says, bemused. “How have you been?”

“Fine,” Dayoung echoes. She leans forward and makes a very deliberate show of sizing Hyunjung up. “So, what do you like about Jiyeon unnie?”

Hyunjung opens , then closes it. “What?” she says.

“You heard me.” Dayoung draws herself up to her full height, just a few centimetres shy of Hyunjung, and Hyunjung bites back a smile.

“I just like her,” she says.

“Hmm,” Dayoung says shrewdly. “Tell me more.”

Hyunjung thinks about Jiyeon and all her cheek and sly charm, her insufferable stubborn streak, the look of bright-eyed excitement on her face before she brings a viewfinder to her eye, the way her eyes soften when Hyunjung reaches for her hand, the rasp in her voice at one in the morning when she’s just finished practice late and curls up in Hyunjung’s arms.

“Do you just like her because she’s pretty?” Dayoung demands, and Hyunjung hides another smile at the protectiveness that lines her voice.

“Yeah,” she says. “I like her because she’s pretty.”

“You’re failing the test, unnie,” Dayoung tells her disapprovingly, “and I don’t want you to fail the test because unnie really likes you.”

Hyunjung doesn’t succeed in hiding her smile this time around. “Jiyeon really likes me?”

“Im Dayoung,” Jiyeon says from behind her, and Dayoung startles so badly her half her things nearly go spilling out of her bag. She clutches at them in the nick of time, shrieking.

“Unnie! I have a weak heart!”

“Who’s the old one now?”

“Still you,” Dayoung tells her. She looks between both of them, then waves her charger and lipstick meaningfully at Hyunjung. “I’ll be watching, Hyunjung unnie.”

She heads down the corridor, yelling come up with a better reason next time! over her shoulder, and Jiyeon watches her go, making a face. Her hair is out of its messy ponytail, falling in dark waves down her shoulders, cheeks gently flushed from all the dancing, sweatpants hanging loosely off her hips.

Hyunjung stares and stares and stares.

“What did she say to you?” Jiyeon asks. “Was it anything bad? I knew I shouldn’t have used half her lip balm during practice yesterday—”

Hyunjung’s hand slides onto her jaw as she kisses her, long and slow, swallowing her surprised gasp.

“What was that for?” Jiyeon asks breathlessly. She steals one more kiss before Hyunjung can answer, hands searing a trail of heat into her skin as they slide up her back. Hyunjung’s hands fall to her hips, thumbs brushing bare skin, and Jiyeon whines into , pressing closer.

“Choreography,” Hyunjung reminds her in a low murmur, even as her hands tighten around Jiyeon’s hips.

“Whatever,” Jiyeon says. Her pupils are blown, the flush in her cheeks now a vivid crimson. Her tongue darts out to wet kiss-swollen lips, and Hyunjung valiantly wills her gaze away.

She steps back and balls her hands into fists by her side, looking resolutely at the ceiling. “Choreography,” she says again.

“Fine, fine,” Jiyeon grumbles. "You started it."

 

---

 

Everything is a blur when Hyunjung walks across the stage.

Her diploma is frighteningly light in her hands, like it almost doesn’t seem real. (If her grades hadn’t seen such a big improvement in her senior year, it probably wouldn’t be.)

Cheers and polite clapping alike commence when she shakes her president’s hand, Sojung and Juyeon’s boisterous hollering easily discernible above the din. Hyunjung blinks away the obligatory camera flash and heads downstage, pushing through the crowd to get to her friends. The sea of people is unyielding, and Hyunjung winces and stumbles as she tries to press forward—

“Unnie.”

Hyunjung pauses mid-step, blinking, and turns around to see a navy cap, white mask, and smiling eyes.

“Jiyeonie?" she breathes, as the crowd parts around them, disgruntled. “What are you doing here? I thought you had filming—”

“Surprise?” Jiyeon presents whatever she’s been holding behind her back, eyes crinkling at the corners, and Hyunjung exhales in disbelief, laughing.

It’s a giant bouquet of red roses.

“I snuck away from filming the second we finished,” Jiyeon whispers conspiratorially, stepping closer and leaning in so Hyunjung can hear her better. “Our manager doesn’t know I’m here.”

Hyunjung shakes her head, warmth and fond exasperation mingling in her chest. Her hand hovers uncertainly over Jiyeon’s waist, unsure whether she’s allowed to touch her in such a public setting, but Jiyeon reaches around and pulls her arm more securely around her, letting her head fall onto her shoulder.

“No one is looking,” she murmurs, and she’s right. On either side of them, the crowd bustles along, little pockets of other graduates and their friends and families engrossed in their own conversations. No one cares enough to notice that Hyunjung, one of thousands of graduates, has the leader of a popular girl group snug in her arms, face hidden in the crook of her neck.

The bouquet rustles against Hyunjung’s graduation robes as Jiyeon presses closer. Hyunjung fingers a rose, flicking open the accompanying card.

happy graduation, it reads, my rose ♡

There’s more, including the words i’m so proud of you and i always knew you could do it and aren’t you glad i threatened to blacklist your fansite so you could focus on your studies?, but Hyunjung closes it before the lump in gets any bigger, saving it for later when she’s somewhere more private.

“Are you going to get into trouble? With your manager, I mean.”

“Maybe.” The flowers bounce, tickling Hyunjung’s neck as Jiyeon shrugs carelessly, and Hyunjung can almost picture the cheeky smile and accompanying nose scrunch. “Probably. But I don’t care.”

Hyunjung bites her lip, smiling, and touches her nose to the crown of her head. “Well,” she says, “thanks.”

“Your friends are here, right? Introduce me to them?”

“Absolutely not,” Hyunjung says immediately.

“Why,” Jiyeon whines.

“Like…in your cap and mask?”

“…No?”

“Then no,” Hyunjung says firmly. “They will not know how to handle themselves.”

“Unnie,” Jiyeon protests. “If you trust them, I trust them—”

“—but I don’t trust them—”

“—besides,” Jiyeon says, “I want to meet them. You always talk about them.”

“If Sojung collapses from the shock, it’s your fault,” Hyunjung warns, but then she hears Sojung and Juyeon’s voices behind her, and she’s forced to turn around.

“Unnie, what took you so long, Juyeon had a whole conversation with Seulgi blustering and giggling and I was forced to stand there and watch—” Sojung stops mid-complaint, and Hyunjung braces herself, wincing.

“Who’s this?”

“Um,” Hyunjung hedges. Jiyeon pokes her back two times in reprimand. “This is Jiyeon,” she says, very reluctantly.

Juyeon’s eyes are as wide as saucers. “The Jiyeon? The Jiyeon that we always hear about but never get to see?”

“Hi,” Jiyeon says brightly, stepping out from behind Hyunjung’s shoulder. “Juyeon and Sojung, right?”

“Yeah,” Sojung says, peering at her, and Hyunjung knows she’s trying to see what Jiyeon looks like under the cap and mask. She shifts herself in front of Jiyeon protectively, and Sojung makes a face at her.

To her great chagrin, Jiyeon steps in front of her, and pulls her mask down before she can even say anything. “It’s nice to finally meet you!”

Hyunjung lets her head fall into her hands. Across from her, Juyeon’s eyes grow even rounder as her jaw drops. Sojung’s noisy, dramatic intake of breath makes Hyunjung dart forward.

“Quiet,” she tells them desperately, slapping both her hands over their mouths.

“Unnie? ” Juyeon whisper-screams into her palm. “You? Jiyeon? Bona?”

“Quiet,” Hyunjung begs her.

“Unnie what the —” Sojung all but screeches into her palm, and Hyunjung clamps her hand more firmly around .

“Please put your mask back on,” she pleads over her shoulder.

“Okay, unnie,” Jiyeon says, sounding very amused. The plastic wrapping of her bouquet crinkles as she steps closer, and her chin lands on Hyunjung’s shoulder.

Hyunjung feels Juyeon start to hyperventilate against her hand. “You are not helping.”

“Sorry.” Jiyeon giggles.

“Y-you were the scammer?” Juyeon stammers.

“Yes,” Jiyeon says brightly. “I was the scammer.”

“But you’re not ugly,” Sojung says faintly. She can’t seem to look Jiyeon in the eye.

Jiyeon’s chin presses down on Hyunjung’s shoulder with the force of her grin. “Last time I checked I wasn’t, no.”

Hyunjung drops her hands from their mouths, stealing a tissue from Juyeon’s bag and grimacing. They’re having a normal conversation. Right? Her friends can be normal. Right?

“You’re Sojung, right?”

Sojung’s brows slant upward in panicked anguish. “Yes…”

“Park Soobin’s fansite?”

A timid nod.

“She told me to tell you thank you,” Jiyeon says, “for being her favourite fansite. And you too.” She turns to Juyeon. “Dawon always looks for your camera.”

Oh, god. Hyunjung lurches forward and slaps her hands over their mouths again.

“Her what?” Sojung squeaks. She looks like she’s seconds away from passing out. Juyeon has started hyperventilating against her hand again. Hyunjung shakes her head in despair.

“Look at what you’ve done.”

“Let them live,” Jiyeon chides. Hyunjung can hear the smile in her voice. A hand slips onto her waist, squeezing gently. “I know someone whose reaction was even worse.”

 

---

 

The roar of the crowd is deafening even over the pounding bassline.

The lights dim, and the members head offstage. A VCR starts playing, and Hyunjung lets her camera hang off her neck and takes out her phone (she’ll see the video later on Twitter, anyway).

 

hyunjung
aren’t you being a bit too obvious…

 

She puts her phone back on her lap, not expecting Jiyeon to reply until after the concert; she’s probably busy changing into her outfit for the next performance. But after a minute or two, her phone lights up with an answering text.

 

jiyeon
hm?
i don’t know what you’re talking about

hyunjung
jiyeon-ah
i have more than 50 photos of you giving my camera fanservice

jiyeon
how else am i going to let everyone know you’re my favourite?

 

Hyunjung’s ears turn bright crimson, and she’s momentarily grateful for the inky darkness of the concert hall.

 

hyunjung
that’s
what
that’s not what you’re supposed to do
??

jiyeon
hehe

hyunjung
…I’m your favourite?

jiyeon
even after all this time you still don’t know?

hyunjung
.
aren’t you supposed to be changing

jiyeon
i'm done
im dayoung is taking a long time
🙄
blueberry cream cheese bagels and pillow forts later?

hyunjung
yes
:]

jiyeon
okay
see you later unnie ^^*
i like you a lot
in case you still don’t know

 

The blush refuses to leave her cheeks as she bows over her phone, hiding it from anyone who might be looking over her shoulder. Her smile threatens to split her face in two, and she hurries to bite it back, just in case anyone looks over and thinks her odd.

 

hyunjung
I like you a lot too
jiyeonie
:]

jiyeon
^__^

 

 

---

 

- "i'll just write a cute fansite x idol fic :)" *30k of seolbo vomits itself out from the deep recesses of my brain*
- if you made it to the end, thank you so much for reading!! the jiyeon and hyunjung of this universe are very precious to me and i hope you had as much fun reading it as i did writing it (even though it ended up being about 20k longer than initially expected). very very grateful and touched for all the sweet comments and ccs ;-;
- 😕😕😕 inspired by jiyeon's lounge meltdown earlier this year
- last but not least i know you all are gay (derogatory) it's pride month so go vote for the wujus in the 2022 female idols loved by wlws form <3