“It’s just – I planned to talk more, to give people a good impression, but…” Irene trails off, clearly frustrated. “I don’t know.” She drops her head, her hair falling over her face. Even the pink streaks in it look duller, as if her mood has washed out the dye.

“There was nothing wrong with how you acted.” Wendy sits down next to her on the bed. “Being quiet isn’t a bad thing.”

“I’m the leader.” Irene says that word like it holds the weight of the world. In some ways, Wendy supposes that it does. “I told them that Seulgi would make a better leader than me. So I’m older, so what? Being born earlier doesn’t mean—”

“Joohyun unnie,” Wendy cuts her off sharply. “Don’t start this again.”

Irene looks up and, unexpectedly, smiles. “You sound so—foreign when you say that, you know?”

Wendy blinks. “What?”

“When you call someone unnie,” Irene clarifies. “You don’t say it the way Seulgi or Sooyoung does.”

Oh, that. “It’s not when I call someone unnie. It’s when I call you unnie.”

Wendy knows that a lot of people are gushing about Irene’s smile already, and she is once again reminded why when she sees this one. When Irene really smiles, she doesn’t show a lot of teeth, but the expression is radiant nonetheless.

“Do I have an accent?” Wendy asks curiously. “Sometimes I’m…not so sure about my Korean.”

“Your Korean is perfect,” Irene says. “You just – you say some things differently.”

“Oh, that clears it up, thanks.”

Irene smiles again. “I like the way you call me unnie.”

Wendy tries to imitate the way Irene fluttered her eyelashes during the radio show, but judging by Irene’s barely suppressed laugh, she doesn’t do a very good job.

“Don’t laugh at me,” she whines, resting her head on Irene’s shoulder. Irene her fingers through her hair, so gently and tenderly that Wendy can feel her eyelids growing heavy. She hasn’t slept much lately; none of them have (her sunbaes call it ‘debut insomnia’), heavy and flighty at once with nerves and anticipation.

But at least their parents aren’t in a whole other continent, separated by an ocean and a dozen hours. Wendy has spent most of her pocket money on phone cards, although often she’s too choked up to even talk to her parents. She spends most of their conversations tight-throated and damp-eyed, clutching onto her phone with a white-knuckled grip like it can close the distance between them.

Her dad asked her to Skype them, but she couldn’t tell them that the sight of them would probably dissolve all the defences she’s dutifully learned here, all the masks she’s carefully assembled. She can’t afford that, not right after their debut, not with all the sharp, critical eyes on them, the countless people watching for the slightest sign of weakness.

Sometimes she misses her parents, her friends, her country so much that it physically pains her. She always thought that people were exaggerating when they said that missing someone hurts, but now she knows firsthand that it really does. Missing hurts. Loving hurts.

“Wendy?” Irene asks tentatively.

Wendy buries her face against Irene’s shoulder, both to be closer to her and to hide her expression. The last thing Irene needs is the burden of another person’s pain.

“Unnie,” she says, drawing out the word in what she hopes is a cute way. “I’m tired.”

“You know you’re terrible at aegyo, right?” Irene sounds amused but also fond.

“Time to ask maknae for more lessons.”

“Seungwan ah.” Her Korean name is out. This is serious business now. “Look at me, please.” Some of Irene’s leader tone has slipped into her voice. She denies having a leader voice every time they tell her about it, but they all know not to mess around when they hear it.

Wendy reluctantly leaves the comfort of Irene’s shoulder (really, it’s not very comfortable because Irene’s too thin and bony, but it’s Irene, and being so close to her is comforting on its own), raising her head and meeting Irene’s eyes.

“Seungwan ah,” Irene repeats, her voice softer now, her eyes concerned. “What’s wrong?”

To Wendy’s horror, her lower lip starts trembling, and she has to bite down on it to maintain a semblance of composure. Judging by how Irene’s eyes narrow, she doesn’t fall for it.

“I miss my parents,” Wendy whispers, her voice cracking on the last word, the last of her façade crumbling with it. Her eyes tear up, and she wants to hide her face, wants to hide her weakness, but Irene puts her hands on her shoulders, giving her enough strength to keep her chin up. This is Irene; she doesn’t need to hide in front of her.

Irene opens her arms, and Wendy falls into them, clinging to her like she’s adrift in the sea and Irene is a lifesaver. It doesn’t feel far from the truth right now. She adores Seulgi and Joy, she adores Red Velvet, but Irene is—

“I’m sorry,” Wendy mumbles.

“For missing your parents? You should be sorry if you didn’t.”

“I cried too much in the show. I should’ve controlled myself better.”

Irene wipes away some of Wendy’s tears and then leans forward, pressing her lips to Wendy’s forehead like a benediction.

“Better than not showing emotion at all.” Irene’s voice is quieter again, the volume stripped by insecurity. “The nicer ones are calling me shy and quiet, but the other ones… They think I have no personality, or I don’t care. They think – no, they know – that I’m not fit to be the leader.”

“You still think that?” Wendy’s voice rises, almost cracking again. She can’t remember the last time she had so little control over her voice. There are many things in her life that she can’t control, but her vocal control is something on which she’s always prided herself. However, it doesn’t even sound like her own right now.

“Bae Joohyun”—screw honorifics—“don’t give me that nonsense. I was nervous today too, and you were the one who reassured me. You were the one we looked at when we weren’t sure about something, when we didn’t know—”

“You were looking at me,” Irene whispers, “but I can’t give you what you’re looking for. I’m not – Wendy, I’m not—”

Wendy kisses her. Sometimes words just aren’t enough. Irene makes a little gasping noise against that makes a flash of heat zip through her stomach, and then Irene’s kissing her back boldly, heatedly, her hands framing Wendy’s face to pull her closer. Wendy has great lung capacity, but she finds herself breathless very quickly, succumbing to the dizzying effect Irene has on her.

She mumbles something that might be “unnie”, or “please”, and suddenly finds herself on her back, Irene settled between her legs (when had she opened them?).

“You are so…” Irene’s short of breath too, her eyes dark and heavy-lidded, a flush across her cheekbones that almost matches her hair. She makes such a pretty picture that Wendy just drinks her in, openly and unabashedly, knowing that she’s staring like an idiot.

“You’re so beautiful,” Wendy blurts out.

Irene has probably heard that a thousand times, but after Wendy tells her, she ducks her head, her blush darkening.

“That’s what I was going to tell you.”

“Seulgi and Sooyoung are—” Wendy hesitates. “They’re cheerful and outspoken all the time, and they smile a lot, and—I love them, they’re great, but not everyone can be like that, and it’s okay.”

“You’re like that too,” Irene points out.

“I’m not as smiley; I just make a lot of weird faces.”

“You’re expressive,” Irene says quietly. “I like that.”

“And you’re…you’re not the same to outside people as you are to us.” Wendy bites her lip. “I like that. I like that you’re different; I like that you don’t show everyone the real you.”

Irene touches her cheek with the backs of her fingers. It strikes Wendy that she’s still on her back with Irene looming above her, a rather helpless position although she could easily shake Irene off. She doesn’t; she doesn’t mind.

“If you show everyone the real you right away, you might scare them away.” Irene’s smile takes away any bite from her words. “I really thought you were going to do your—trick today.”

“You told me not to.” Irene hadn’t said it verbally, but Wendy could read her well enough to tell a ‘no’ when she saw one.

“I don’t think S.M. would be very happy if you did that on your first radio show appearance.”

“I don’t think S.M. would be happy if I did that even years down the road,” Wendy says. “Don’t worry, I know we have to keep S.M. happy.”

“You’re good at making people happy, so I don’t think that’s an issue.”

Wendy grins. “Do I bring you happiness?” She pitches her voice the same as their song, swiping her finger across her lips in their smile move.

Irene laughs. “You’re so ridiculous.”

Wendy’s grin doesn’t falter. “Is that a yes?”

Irene answers her with a kiss, leaving Wendy’s lips tingling and tasting of green apple tic tacs. Irene loves those, and whenever Wendy smells green apples, she’s always reminded of Irene.

“You don’t need to do all the talking,” Wendy says. “The three of us are talkative enough. Every group has at least one quiet one.”

“I’m the leader,” Irene says again, and then, “You would be a better one too.”

“Me?” Wendy’s eyes widen. “You’re kidding, right?”

Irene shakes her head. “You’d be a good leader.”

Wendy can barely take care of herself half the time; she can’t take care of three other girls. Not the way Irene does.

“And you’re not?” Wendy asks softly.

Irene lies down beside her, their faces only inches apart. “You know I’m not.” Her voice is the faintest whisper, barely carrying across the minimal distance between them.

“I know you think you’re not.” Irene looks so small and young, half curled in on herself. Wendy wants to put her arms around Irene, hold her close and protect her against the rest of the world, and more importantly, against herself. “You’re wrong, you know.”

“Wendy—”

“You’re wrong,” Wendy repeats stubbornly. “But if you don’t believe me, if you think that you left a bad impression, then leave a better one next time. If you think you were too quiet, then talk more. And if you think you’re a bad leader, then look at us and see how much we respect you, how much we need you, and think again.”

Irene looks like Wendy physically struck her with her words. Her lips thin, and her jaw tightens, but her eyes are bright.

“We debuted six days ago,” Wendy says. “There’s so much time left. This is just the very beginning.”

Irene nods. She looks like she’s struggling for words, and Wendy doesn’t press her. She understands.

“How do you always know what I need to hear?” Irene asks softly.

“I don’t.” Wendy presses closer to her, and Irene puts an arm around her waist, her fingers skimming the skin between the hem of Wendy’s shirt and her waistband. “I guess what I need to say and what you need to hear just happen to coincide.”

“And you’re not confident about your Korean,” Irene says. “I told you it’s perfect.” She sounds like she’s saying I told you you’re perfect.

“What can I say?” Wendy closes her eyes, contentment settling warm and heavy in her bones. “I’m just smart and cool like that. You can tell just by looking at me.”

Irene’s so close that her laughter shakes Wendy, and she feels like Irene’s joy is spreading to her, joining her own.

“Go brain,” Wendy says sleepily.

“Go to sleep,” Irene says gently. “I know you’re exhausted. You’ve slept the least out of all of us.”

Wendy cracks open an eye. “Don’t go anywhere.”

Irene’s eyes soften. “I won’t.”

“Listen to our song,” Wendy says insistently. “Be happy.”

There’s a smile in Irene’s eyes – only in her eyes and not on her lips – bright enough to light up their little corner of the room, their little piece of paradise.

“I am,” Irene says quietly.

Wendy smiles and drifts off to sleep, surrounded by warmth and happiness.

Be happy!