“hey!”

The air feels hot, damp and heavy against her pale skin yet there is a certain sort of unintending paranoia whenever her skin comes into contact with the scorching sun. She looks up from the blocks of ice and slight curls where the juice traps itself unmanageably in between, unable to be out and creating annoying somehow fun noises when tried, futile eitherways. She tries not to remind herself it’s something of a scenario she wonders if she has entered, helplessly stuck in a life she doesn’t know if she wants for real, being sixteen years old and thrown into a world where it’s not really what she envisions it to be.

The only way, she thinks desperately, her fingers clutch themselves over the plastic cup, crinkling the flimsy wall, is to remove the ice. But by removing the ice, doesn’t the juice lose itself together with the ice? She is suddenly painfully reminded of her family-no matter what, she’s needed, still.

Her brother waves from the counter grinning as he heads to her, she shakes her head to her overflowing thoughts, sets her cup down  and follows him out, out from the satisfying mediocre shade of an umbrella to the streets of Seoul.

“haven’t seen you in a while old lady,” he teases, poking her while she smiles up at him. He leans back on  the park bench, inhales deeply. His arms are sprawled forward on his lap and she stares at him, secretly envious at how simple his life seems, at how simple a boy can depict life. How she has managed somewhat to enter an industry that required the most complicated of matters, being what she is, she doesn’t even know, her face scrounges up in frustration.

“yeah I miss you too,” she sighs, she looks up and smiles. She does mean it. “it’s great you took some time off to come visit me here”

He laughs, pats her on the head, ruffles her hair. “of course. You seem stressed. It’s like you’ve aged ten years the last time I saw you”

She pouts playfully and knocks his hand out of her hair. It’s something she can’t bring herself to deny. It’s probably to the worst of situations true, given the amount of pressure she has to endure, the groans, the looks she thinks she’s getting when the instructor yells that they have to do it again, that it isn’t in synch, that it lacks coordination, and that they need more practice, and more practice and more practice. And Taeyeon just buries her eyes, shifts her focus to the edge of her nose, prays hard that it isn’t her that’s causing it all, where really, she does try her best, but what’s trying her best when dancing isn’t even something she finds much passion in.

She places herself next to her brother, allowing her eyes to wander.

She’s startled by his sudden nudging on her arm, already sore and possibly, desperately cannot be any more flexible than she can muster.

“check her out,” he mutters under his breath, her eyes follow his line of vision.

She snorts and nods. “yeah, she’s pretty”

“she is, isn’t she”

And then Taeyeon starts to wonder, no, she has pondered on this several times already, if whatever and everything that she feels, this unnatural feeling, abnormal emotions could be brought forth possibly by her brother. He looks at her with a certain sort of approval, appeasement and ruffles her hair again. He is somewhat an ideal, she thinks and they do fight, but the thoughts and memories of him when she’s back in the dorm are loving, respectful. She can’t help it and it’s perhaps the whole little sister, big brother dynamic but she loves and idolizes him in every way.

He walks her back to SM and embraces her. They hardly express their love in such physical manners, preferring to joke light heartedly about it all while she fights to keep back tears but her time apart from her family sheds those barriers, and she clings onto him, clings onto the familiarity and stability she once found, and she tries to immerse herself in the time when she’s still a normal girl from Jeonju, getting into mud fights, punching boys, not the Kim Taeyeon in Seoul, not the Kim Taeyeon who’s constantly reminded to be more feminine, to be more skinny(and that never ends) that the world is watching, her fears that she has to listen to them, she has to live for the world, she doesn’t live for herself, that the training she pushes herself in could be dissolved anytime, just one little slip and she’s replaceable, easily.

And so when she opens the door to her room, Stephanie greets her excitedly, she can’t do much but fall into her arms, feels the tears flow and she’s so overwhelmed, so grateful that Stephanie’s right there with her, pretty Stephanie, with her too loud voice and caring personality and her annoying constant prodding that Taeyeon finds so endearing.

It happens, it just happens, Taeyeon would blatantly remind herself. They’re sitting at a table and she’s placed in an uncomfortable position where she can’t look anywhere at but Jessica Jung, who’s chatting animatedly with Sooyoung. The only place she can put her eyes are her hands, and there she focuses much of her attention on, don’t let her catch you staring Taeyeon, she might think. Taeyeon thinks this, desperately. She might suspect, and she probably knows, because you’re obvious as, heck.

They’re a group of girls who will talk. It’s perfectly normal, given their current outlook on the future, that physical prowess plays a major role in their future career. It’s not even about the talent, Taeyeon thinks bitterly, she’s widely misinformed, widely mistaken about the life she’s chosen, but then again she can’t imagine herself otherwise, because she can’t imagine herself besides the stage lights, microphone in hand as her voice floods her eardrums.

So they are girls. And so they will talk, and they will comment. Which unnie is pretty, which sunbae is pretty, which new trainee is pretty. It’s a little on admiration, but mostly it’s envy, it’s competition. It’s another  pretty girl that joins their ranks, another pretty girl they will have to find flaws in, just so they could reach the debut every trainee in that building dreams of.

There are many times where they’ve said it, commented, but Taeyeon keeps shut, her hands clasped together tightly on her lap. These are the many times she has thought about it, once in a while, contemplates and says it aloud, that Jessica is pretty that everything about her can be considered beautiful, the way she bites her bottom lip or when she hangs open, the way her front teeth display themselves in the smallest of smiles or the softest of sighs in exasperation, exhaustion.

She refuses to say much though, only when she feels it necessary, only sufficient to secure her and reduce the thoughts others have of her as condescending or jealous, and maybe she is, it’s complicated she frowns, the girl to girl attraction she feels, because it’s burning desire, infatuation and yet jealousy mixes itself, rears its ugly head, forces Taeyeon out of bed at night, her heart thumping, her breath shallow as she imagines lips, and bust and legs and how intricate hair can fall in the sorts of places when encouraged. She imagines, because she knows it’s the most she can do, she thinks this, of course, sadly.

She tries not to think about it and distract herself with thoughts of school, skin, losing weight, training, school, Math, losing weight, Stephanie, Math, Stephanie’s arms, how much weight Stephanie’s losing.

She convinces herself that the more she tries to tell herself and make herself aware of the flaws Jessica has, and concentrate less on the way Jessica tilts her head back, sweaty and weary, it gives her steps much closer to the denial she’s facing on the inside.

A/N: just something i blahed it out because it's very boring when you're wide awake at 5 in the morning