“Sometimes you have to be gentle to get the things you want,” was what Seulgi’d said when they were backstage and when she’d been struggling with that bag of hers, and the words had been floating around in Irene’s mind ever since they’d graced her ears like an angel’s wings. They would come back to her during the quiet moments when she zoned out during car rides back to the dorm or the second before they step on stage to perform as she stares at the luscious locks of hair flowing down Seulgi’s elegant shoulders. Something about the younger girl’s tone of voice and the gentle glitter playing in her soft chocolate eyes made Irene feel like her entire being was liquefying into a helpless puddle of infatuation, even as she was merely thinking about the slightly intimate moment the two of them had shared. 

    Something about Seulgi’s words always made the shy leader tingle all over with goosebumps creeping up her spine and blushes to bloom across her cheeks like vivid roses growing like a wildfire in a flower garden. The van rolls to a stop and Irene’s pulled from her thoughts by the excited voices of her fellow members, but her eyes are fixated on Seulgi only as the girl unbuckles her seatbelt and slides open the door of the car in one smooth motion. They’re performing at Music bank, and are walking from the parking lot to the entrance of the building, one after each other. And she doesn’t exactly know why, but when she sees Seulgi trailing easily ahead of her, within arm’s reach, Irene leans forward and slips her arm through Seulgi’s as if it were second nature. And Irene can feel everything that’s Seulgi. 

    She can feel the delicious curve of the orange ombré haired girl’s perfect figure rising and falling beneath her arm and her hand as they walked together silently, and she could almost imagine the creamy skin Seulgi’s gray button down was concealing from her eyes with each step the pair took. Irene’s hand curled around her slender but slightly muscular forearm, and she fell easily in step with her band mate, and Seulgi let her cling to her as if she were a life raft in the raging ocean. It feels to her as if the leader is sweetly searing an imprint of her hand, of her arm, of her body heat, into Seulgi’s side and forearm, and there’s nothing she wouldn’t do to let this moment roll on forever. One of the few things she repeatedly thought about were Irene, home, and how to get her to stay. 

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