When they first get their hair dyed, Seulgi holds Irene’s hand as they sit in salon chairs next to each other, gazing into each others’ eyes with the intent of never letting each other out of sight. Her fingers are softer than silk as they fill the space between Irene’s digits perfectly and Irene can’t tear her eyes away from the deep chocolate pools pouring into her and filling her to the brim with feelings she’s only just now starting to understand. The night before, the two of them had been laying in Irene’s bed and Seulgi played with Irene’s fingers as if they were keys on a grand piano.

            “What’s your favorite color?” She whispers as Irene leafs through a dog-eared paperback novel with one hand and the skin of Seulgi’s thumb with the other. This would be one of last quiet moments for them after they debut. Irene looks up, her gaze settling on the half open window of the room letting crisp air fill the room.

            Autumn was coming, and she remembers that this is her favorite time of the year because of the way the sky looks every second of the day, as if there’s more color to the clouds and the blue background they float across. The sun is just setting, and the air is the perfect temperature between cool and cold, and Irene notices that the sky is turning a vibrant yellow-orange color. And then she smiles.

            “Sunset orange,” Irene murmurs back as Seulgi shifts to lay her head on the older girl’s sweat shirt covered shoulder, nuzzling her way underneath the crook in between Irene’s chin and neck. She turns to look at the younger girl with interest, and watches the reflection of the sun setting in the young girl’s eyes. They are gleaming with life and glowing with the vibrant colors playing across the sky, and she knows she must be in love. A smile crinkles the corners of her lips. “What’s yours?” 

            She watches Seulgi’s hands run over the creases of her bed sheets, watches the delicate slope of each digit as they curl into the fabric and uncurl twice as the girl thinks to herself and the world goes quiet. “Pink,” Seulgi finally breathes before the two settle into a comfortable silence where Irene occasionally runs a hand through Seulgi’s hair and reads excerpts of her favorite pages from the book aloud. 

            “Are you ready, Miss Joohyun?” The hair stylist asks as she holds up four bowls full of bubble-gum colored paste, a hint of a smile tugging at her lips as she watches Irene squeeze Seulgi’s hand slightly. Irene grins back after feeling a reassuring squeeze in return.

            “Never been more sure in my life,” she responds as she watches Seulgi’s eyes crinkle up at the edges with a smile. That must have been the clearest moment they remember when they were the most in love, when they were at the peak of their relationship and their hearts and minds were open books. And then Irene watches Seulgi’s gaze drift over to Wendy, who in turn smiles at her through the reflection of the mirror. Somehow, the leader gets a feeling of dread in the pit of her stomach. 

            A month and a few weeks pass and suddenly they’re back in the same set of salon chairs but with different intentions. Their eyes are unable to meet, their hands folded carefully like origami cranes in their laps as the hair stylist leaves them alone to get more bowls of dye. They’re in the same room, but are worlds apart, and they still talk, but they don’t talk the same way they used to, and it’s killing them on the inside. 

            “What’s wrong with you two?” Wendy had asked, bewildered when the pair announced their decisions to dye their hair back to their natural hair colors.

            “Promotion’s still going on for few more weeks or so,” Joy adds as they sit around the table of the living room, “What’s