Chapter Text
For the first time in Nayeon’s quiet and unassuming life, winter came early.
It started with an uneventful afternoon. The sun had just begun to set when Nayeon arrived home, giving her apartment an inviting golden glow as fading sunlight filtered through the windows of her living room. And though her feet ached terribly as she dragged them through the doorway, the warm environment eased the tension in her shoulders and the worries in her mind.
The living room was quiet, Nayeon’s soft footsteps on the cold wood floor was the only thing to be heard as she searched for her girlfriend.
Fresh out of the shower, Jeongyeon stepped out of their shared room just as Nayeon made it past their couch. From where she stood, Nayeon could tell Jeongyeon smelled like coconuts and felt as silky, lush and dainty as her large t-shirt and golden locks. But as they made eye contact, Nayeon could see the way her doe-like eyes were rimmed pink. Before she could even ask what was wrong, Nayeon watched as her lover fell to her knees and shook as she sobbed quietly. With the sun on her face, tears in her eyes and her caramel brown hair gleaming, Jeongyeon cried out apologies.
The sight alone brought Nayeon to her own knees. They sat across from each other on the cold wood floor, the distance between them uncomfortably rigid. Nayeon wanted to reach for her, wished to ease whatever worries she had. The most she could do was carefully pull Jeongyeon into her embrace, hold her and hope this would pass. Though she couldn’t bring herself to do it. Instead, she stared at the crown of Jeongyeon’s head as worry swept over her. In any other case, Nayeon wouldn’t have hesitated. But things were different now; they were different now.
“Jeongyeon.” Nayeon didn’t recognize her own voice. She didn’t recognize the way it shook or the way her name felt as it rolled off her tongue.
“I tried,” she cried. “I can’t do this anymore.”
“Do what?”
At the sound of her weary voice, Jeongyeon curled deeper into herself. Her hands covered her ears and eyes screwed shut as tears streamed from them. And when the ache in her chest begins to burn overwhelmingly: Nayeon wondered what to do.
Nayeon’s hands moved before her mind did, she reached for Jeongyeon the way she always had before. Her fingertips trailed the path of her arms, Nayeon glided over warm skin, her hands covered Jeongyeon’s until their fingers interlocked.
Jeongyeon opened easily for her; clammy hands letting go to grip tightly at the back of Nayeon’s wrinkled dress shirt, her head falling to her shoulder as she wept. The sweet lavender from Jeongyeon is somehow bitter in a moment like this, but despite it all, Nayeon embraced her.
“I’m sorry,” Jeongyeon muttered, her breath uneven as she repeated it over and over. While all Nayeon could think about was how alarmingly thin Jeongyeon was in her arms.
“I’m sorry.” Jeongyeon whispered once more as exhaustion began to take over and her hold on Nayeon loosened.
And in the middle of their living room on the cold wooden floor, while drowning in anxiety, Nayeon held her tightly and said nothing.
After Jeongyeon fell asleep in her arms, Nayeon found herself lifelessly following her nightly routine. Buried in endless questions and negative thoughts, Nayeon stood in the shower, scrubbing at her skin aggressively until her eyes blurred from the excessive amount of water and her skin was achingly red and angry.
The sun had officially set by the time Nayeon finished her shower. She dressed herself in a loose sleep shirt and what was once a warm afternoon was replaced with the moon and a chilly night breeze that invited itself through an open window where Seoul’s stunning nightscape gleamed. And despite feeling physically refreshed from the shower, an uncomfortable feeling returns, bubbling up her throat.
On the couch, Jeongyeon laid asleep, unmoving. The quiet moment gave chance for Nayeon to trace her features with her eyes, where she took note of the dark circles under Jeongyeon’s eyes, her protruding collarbones and thin arms. They were all suddenly more obvious under her worrying gaze.
And on autopilot, Nayeon spiraled.
She wondered where she went wrong, how she never noticed, wondered what Jeongyeon went through and why she never said anything.
Nayeon tried her best not to dawdle on it, but when someone as naturally composed as Jeongyeon breaks down to that extent, you can’t help but worry. She tries. Nayeon tries her best to cut fruit quietly, muddling away in the kitchen with useless tasks, but as her lips spread into a thin line, the crease in her brows stayed permanent.
Lost in thought, Nayeon snapped out of it when Jeongyeon sharply inhaled.
She coughed and tidied up. Swiftly rinsing the kitchen knife, she stored it away in a nearby drawer and made her way over, plate in hand.
“You’re awake?” It comes as a statement of observation rather than a question, but still Jeongyeon nodded slowly as she teetered upright into a sitting position.
“I cut you some fruit, you must’ve been tired.” The plate settled onto their glass coffee table with a small clink.
Jeongyeon stared at the fruits with wonder. “Did you sleep ok?”
“Where did you get these? They aren’t in season for another month.” Nayeon’s lips twisted around.
“A friend visited me. I asked them to bring me some.” The ‘cause you like them’ goes without being said, but both Nayeon and Jeongyeon felt the implication of it.
“Why?”
“What do you mean?” Nayeon asked, and her voice was as soft as ever.
“Why would you—” Jeongyeon shook her head and asked weakly. “Can you just stop?”
“Stop what?”
“I just can’t stand this anymore..."
“Jeong, you’re not making any sense.” Nayeon tried reaching for her.
“You.” Jeongyeon stood suddenly and gestured frantically between her and Nayeon. “This! Us.”
“Everything you’re doing. It’s suffocating me and you don’t even know.” Nayeon dropped her hand.
Jeongyeon's voice grew quiet, “and I can’t say anything because it’s you.” Defeated, “and you haven’t done anything wrong.”
And when Nayeon gazed up at Jeongyeon, there was a clear sense of vulnerability in her wide brown eyes.
“I’m sorry,” Jeongyeon said again, reaching out to try and soothe Nayeon’s expression that turned sour.
Nayeon turned away from her hand. “What did I do?”
“Is it—”, Nayeon paused, “am I too much? Is that what you’re saying?” Her tone is matter of fact, but her expression is drawn.
“I’m sorry,” Jeongyeon winced. “I didn’t mean it— like that.”
Nayeon huffed and her hands ran through her hair. Jeongyeon is saying words, words that should be considered comforting, but her tone and expression are still broken. And all Nayeon can feel is the overwhelming anxiety welted up in her chest.
“Nayeon,” Jeongyeon said with finality in her tone, stepping forward into Nayeon’s space and this time Nayeon let her. And when Jeongyeon reached for her, the familiarity of her hand slipped into Nayeon’s as they always did before. "I'm sor—”
“Stop.” Nayeon yanked her hand away. “If you’re going to say you’re sorry one more time, then I’d rather you didn’t say it at all.”
Jeongyeon nodded tersely, “I really didn’t mean it. You… It’s just that I— sometimes I feel like I don’t—” but she never finished her sentences.
The butterflies in her stomach grow restless. They fluttered around violently until her chest began to ache too. And that ugly emotion she had felt before, managed to burrow itself deeper into her flesh, making a home somewhere under her skin. It morphed into something ugly and dark, a feeling Nayeon knows she’ll remember for a while.
“Jeongyeon, what are you really saying?”
And in the comfort of their own home, Jeongyeon shifted closer again, her hands purposefully meeting Nayeon’s so that their fingers could intertwine. Nayeon, with the sensation of being held, even if it’s just her hand, began to tear up.
Jeongyeon’s shaky voice, although it was as quiet as ever, echoed loudly through their apartment, and in her head every night after that.
“I don’t love you anymore.”
—
“I’m starting to think you guys are expecting too much out of me,” Nayeon slurs as she downs the last mouthful of her glass, wincing shortly afterward.
Jihyo snorts, downing her own cup.
“Look! I’m just saying,” Jeongyeon pauses, leaning forward onto the counter to make eye contact. “He’s been staring at you since we arrived! Go make a move on him!”
Nayeon knew exactly who Jeongyeon was talking about. The pretty boy across the bar was a familiar face from work, she recognized him from work dinners, and it was common knowledge in her company that he was interested. If she wanted to, Nayeon could easily go home with him; or find anyone else for that matter. There’s plenty of people packed into the bar, men and women, and she caught a few looking at her with mild interest, but the sentimental part of her makes up excuses of not doing that to Jeongyeon.
Logically, Nayeon knows she can leave with whoever she wants. It had been two months, Nayeon and Jeongyeon aren’t together anymore. They’re only friends now. But even if she could, even if Jeongyeon told her to, Nayeon didn’t want anyone else .
Nayeon chooses to drown the rest of the conversation out, instead eyeing the way the bartender pours her another shot. She doesn’t even know what compelled her to come tonight. It was a bad idea from the start, but Jihyo had personally invited Nayeon out for a drink; something about celebrating when Jeongyeon chimed in that it would be a good idea to help her get a rebound, even going as far as to insist on being her wing-woman.
But still, Nayeon was never good at saying no to Jeongyeon.
So maybe that’s why Nayeon finds herself pitifully staring at the way her cup gleams on her only night off in three weeks. Whatever the case, Jeongyeon is the main reason she’s drinking tonight, and whether she knows it or not is the least of Nayeon’s worries after three tall glasses. (But she doesn’t have the heart to say it. Not when Jeongyeon looks so much happier and free, as if nothing could bring her down.)
And then comes the same bitter thoughts that have been haunting her since everything went downhill. (Where did it go wrong? Was it my fault?)
Overwhelmed, Nayeon leans against the bar. Her elbows weak from the little energy she had left, and her head hangs low. She was dizzy; the same kind of dizziness you feel like before you puke your guts out. She waves Jihyo off when she asks her if she’s alright, slurring about how she’s heading to the bathroom.
The room spins slightly as she stands, but Nayeon nearly makes it with little-to-no stumbling. But she figures the universe must hate her. On her way over, Nayeon knocks into another girl, effectively spilling whatever drink she had in hand more onto herself than Nayeon.
“Oh god, I’m so sorry—”
Red’s the first thing Nayeon sees. Red lips, red stain.
The stranger’s red lips curve into a frown, displeasure obviously shown through her face even as she mumbles a soft, “it’s fine.” The red stain that covers most of the front and the fabric of the clothing sticks wetly to her. And if Nayeon thought that ugly feeling earlier was at its max, she nearly chokes from the sudden anxiety, her throat closing in.
“Please , let me try to—” Drunk, Nayeon’s first instinct is to press her sleeves against the fabric, trying her best to rid the shirt of its most of the moisture, unknowingly staining her own clothes in the process.
The woman gasps, her hands flying up to try and stop Nayeon’s unrelenting hands. “It really is just fine—if you would stop—”
“It’s not coming out, oh god—maybe water?” Catching ahold of her hands, Nayeon tugs her along by the wrist. Determined to get this stain out, she drags her to the bathroom. Turning on the faucet while rushing over to grab some paper towels.
A soft huff escapes her as Nayeon continues to press the soaked paper against the stranger’s chest, dodging the hands that try to stop her. “Hey—!”
Nayeon dabs insistently at the woman’s chest, trying her best to lessen the stain. It works slightly, the red color fades into a soft pink and she just knows that if she keeps this up, the color of the shirt will return to its natural state. Except it doesn’t, and the stranger has finally catches a hold of her clammy hands.
“Will you—”
Leaning over, the woman let’s out a garbled noise. Somewhere between confused and concerned, she asks in an incredulous manner, “are you crying?”
Hypersensitive from the alcohol, Nayeon musters up the little courage she has, to peek up at the stranger through stray strands of her hair with damp eyes.
“No?” She manages meekly.
The stranger stares back at her; With bright smokey eyes blown wide, her two toned black and red hair brushes just a little past her shoulders, framing her face pleasantly and dark red lips that part slightly, tempting her in such a way that shocked her. Suddenly more aware of delicate hands wrapped around her wrists, Nayeon shrinks under the woman’s scrutiny.
Nayeon pretends a tear didn’t fall from her eyes. She turns her head to further hide it, and the stranger pretends not to notice it when her cheeks flush out of pure embarrassment.
Her hands fall to her side, the tension from her shoulders leaving her as she forces out a puff of air. “I’m Momo.”
Nayeon’s eyes flicker back to her. Momo makes her feel incredibly shy. It’s was not often that Nayeon allowed herself to be so vulnerable in anyone’s presence. Momo was just a stranger that she stumbled upon in her time of vulnerability; She’s no different from any other person in this room and far from similar to the two people she called her best friends. Yet something about the sharp eyes that softened when they looked at her, full cheeks that pinked when they were flustered, plump and rosy lips was disgustingly familiar, reminding her of a certain brunette that broke her heart two months ago. And the more Nayeon looks, the more she finds bits and pieces of Jeongyeon sprinkled into this woman.
But Nayeon hated the resemblances. She hated the way she still looked for Jeongyeon in everyone, and the way she couldn’t stop herself from doing so. And despite all that, Nayeon eyed the woman from top to bottom, clearly intrigued.
Physically, Momo was around the same height as Nayeon, maybe an inch or two taller, but she has the body of a dancer. The oversized and sheer dress shirt she wore did little to cover the dark skintight crop that she wore underneath, only further proving Nayeon’s point. The firm muscles under her fingertips that flexed as the ravenhead held onto her own wrists made Nayeon quiver slightly.
The unintentional display of strength drunkenly makes Nayeon keen. Momo left her with a dry mouth and rosy cheeks. The prominent collarbones, down to the cleavage of her breasts and her toned stomach had become so accentuated with the way the shirt clung to her. Nayeon stopped herself from looking lower, afraid of her own reaction.
If Nayeon wanted to be honest, Momo is devilishly attractive. Just Nayeon’s type really, and it’s slightly humiliating how much she’s fawning over a stranger like Momo.
Momo’s voice is much softer this time when she asks Nayeon if she’s alright. Nayeon nods as humiliation further rising its ugly head, heat blooming under her skin and coating her cheeks down to her chest, a soft red hue. “Sorry,” Nayeon squeaks out, frazzled and stiff. She shuffles to the side, makes a move to exit the bathroom.
The once muted melodies from the dance floor become clearer as Nayeon makes it just past the bathroom doors before Momo catches her again. And at this point, it feels like a movie. Unrealistic, but somehow important; the girl runs, afraid of something. The boy chases her, hands find hands and they have a moment. That’s exactly how Nayeon feels when she turns to look at Momo and their intertwined hands.
“Wait—” Momo’s deft fingers wrap themselves loosely around and her own fingers and they’re comfortingly warm in comparison to Nayeon’s bitterly cold hands. Nayeon must stare too hard, because Momo lets go after catching Nayeon’s eyes. Nayeon catches the faint sounds of Momo swearing right before she asks, “Do you— maybe— want to get a drink? I’ll buy.”
Nayeon in a half of a second, when there’s not a lot of thought put into it; just a feeling of an underlying need to let Jeongyeon go. Nayeon finds herself agreeing; unworried of if she might seem presumptuous or if it was just Momo pitying her.
Momo looks shy now, opening her mouth but says nothing, like the words had escaped her. And Nayeon figures Momo means her name. “Nayeon”, she offers.
“Nayeon—” she starts again. Blinking, opening her mouth, looking for something to say that might match the storm Nayeon can see brewing in her eyes. It seems Momo gives up, settles on something easier, “—do you like cocktails? My friend, the bartender, makes good ones.”
“Okay.”
And despite starting on the wrong foot, Momo is kind. She buys Nayeon that drink she mentioned and along with it Nayeon learns all about her delicate personality and honeyed smile that could melt anyone to their core.
“Are you here alone?”
Like a plague, Jeongyeon invades her thoughts again. It’s a complicated situation, coming to a club to find a rebound with the help of your ex, one she’d rather not get into. So Nayeon settles for a simple, “with friends.”
Momo nods, averting her eyes once again. It’s like she’s afraid Nayeon will cry if she stares too long, and the thought makes Nayeon chuckle dryly.
“You?”
“My friends wanted to dance,” she pauses. “And I bumped into you on the way back from the bathroom.”
The guilt comes back as a lump in her throat that she manages to swallow. “Sorry again…”
“It’s okay.” Momo waves her off before she can say more, so she drops it, tired.
“I like your rings.” Momo nods at her hands, only then does Nayeon realize she had been fiddling with them.
Nayeon blinked once. Of all the things, she had not expected a compliment. “Thank you.”
And out of politeness, Nayeon searched for something to compliment. “I like your—”
Except Momo’s hands were bare of any sort of jewelry. And Momo looks at her, waiting.
“Why are your hands so small?”
Momo’s brows pinch together and her nose scrunches in a way that reminds Nayeon of an upset puppy. And she watches her, the way her fingers swirl around her glass cup, the way her eyes dart back to Nayeon any chance she gets. And Nayeon can’t get over the sparkle in them at all.
“What?” Momo says with a lilt to her voice. “My hands aren’t small.” It’s amusing how defensive she gets.
“Yes, they are!” Nayeon answers simply, a little mesmerized.
“Why are your hands freakishly large?!” Nayeon laughs when Momo leans in and grabs her hand to compare.
Nayeon leans forward too, “freakishly?” she questions with a smile. Their hands are pressed against each other in such a manner that if Nayeon so very desired, she could slip her fingers down and intertwine them.
But a quick nasal huff from a laugh stops her. “Well... large.” And Momo must do it subconsciously when she flips Nayeon’s hand over and with every stroke and caress to her fingers.
Nayeon feels her cheeks warm up. “Large, right.” she managed to say while keeping her smile from growing too big. The rush she was suddenly feeling, lets her thoughts slip. “Well, I think we fit together nicely.” And they do fit together snuggly. Nayeon’s hand wraps nicely around Momo’s, warming her from within.
And faintly Nayeon’s aware of how easy it is to converse with someone like Momo, who’s so, so kind. She's wanted this for a long time. A tenderness akin to Jeongyeon’s. Momo might not be actively seeking her out, but at least she’s not forcing any sort of interaction for her sake. Of course, there’s the caution in Momo’s lingering sentences, but it’s the concern, the care that Nayeon finds in it. Nayeon longs for the feeling of being under another’s gaze like before and to be held and loved and spoken to in tones only meant for her ears.
But for now, Momo is enough.
Eventually, after several drinks, Nayeon is able to forget about Jeongyeon. Jeongyeon is something she’s been actively trying not to think about, something she’s been trying to avoid. Momo and alcohol are a big help in that department, a nice breather and wonderful, really funny, and distracting. And she likes how well they get along. She’s just the right amount of snarky, sweet and is one of the few that’s able to keep up with Nayeon’s ever changing energy. Momo begins to feel less like a stranger and instead a friend of a friend, someone she knows, but still has much to learn about. Nayeon's not sure how to put it into words, but Momo is just right. And the afterthought of Momo being around in a permanent way warms her inside just a bit.
“—yeah, but Boo is cuter.”
“Not true! Kookeu is cuter.”
Momo rolls her eyes in faux annoyance. Nayeon’s eyes follow her every move, like magnets she can’t seem to look away from the pretty girl.
“Whatever, come dance with me.” It feels less like a question and more like a request, but still Nayeon says okay. Momo leads her by her hand, pulling her deeper into the dance floor, where the music hurts her ears and space is tighter.
To say the music is loud is an understatement, but the red and blue lighting of the dark nightclub creates a heavy, sluggish atmosphere, and for a second, Nayeon feels as if here she can pretend every problem in her life isn’t real.
Maybe it’s the drinks she’s had, or maybe she’s just feeling brave, but when Momo stops and moves closer, Nayeon drapes her arms over her shoulders to not stumble as the other girl grabs her waist, pulling her forward. Her arms protectively wrap themselves around Nayeon, while lightly swaying the both of them. In her drunken state Nayeon mistakes it for a pleasantly possessive hold. Chest to chest, Nayeon can see the shine of Momo’s eyes clearly, and her heart stutters as her gaze drops down to the girl’s lips, stretched in a carefree smile.
Momo leans forward to talk in her ear and Nayeon feels a shiver run down her spine with the girl’s breath so close to her neck. Momo smells deep and woody, something bold-like, citrusy with the cozy note of vanilla. “Can you stand on your own?”
To Nayeon, it’s borderline flirting, if not actual flirting. “I don’t know, think I need a pretty girl to hold me up.” Momo laughs at that though, and Nayeon grins, feeling like the funniest person in the world — completely unaware of how she had slurred most of her words.
And just like that, the music changes from the upbeat track that was playing to something slower, a more sensual song. Nayeon catches several couples around the floor closing in on each other, a girl beside her already grinding on her companion and she can’t help but blush. Yet she still lets Momo pull her close for now, and later she lets Momo turn her around. With her back pressed to Momo’s chest, Momo’s head leans against hers and hands stay low on her waist.
Nayeon’s hands press against Momo’s that reside at her hips, pressing down to feel the pressure of Momo’s hands and body against her. It takes all the liquid courage in her system to push back into Momo sensually, and the momentary doubt is washed away when Momo doesn’t stop her. If anything, she sways with her.
It’s a green light, one Nayeon advances on.
Distinctly, she hears Momo hum to the song, low and short and near her ear. Her hazy brain thinks about what it would be like if Momo pressed her very soft looking lips to Nayeon’s neck.
The song blends into another, but she turns back around to face Momo once more. Momo wears that same smile and Nayeon can’t help the way she folds into Momo when she giggles. If Nayeon thought Momo was pretty before, she is godly now. Her face is flushed a little from dancing, breathing hard as she pushes her short hair behind her ears. And Nayeon feels like she could kiss her right now.
Nayeon lost track of when the songs had changed again, because at some point Momo is closing her eyes and throwing her head back, singing along to the song. And Nayeon’s breath is caught short at the sight of her neck. Momo either has no idea what she’s doing or knows exactly what she’s doing, because when she pulls her head back her smile is sickeningly sweet. Nayeon thinks Momo’s voice is dripping with honey when she speaks. “You okay?”
The words, made Nayeon’s mouth go dry, then they made her blush. It’s a simple question, but the fact that she asked in such a moment has Nayeon dizzy with want. How can one person be so captivatingly kind and pretty at the same time. And the desire to kiss Momo is overwhelming.
Nayeon nods recklessly, leaning forward, onto Momo as much as she can. Momo giggles when their noses bump together and involuntarily Nayeon tugs her closer. Nayeon shudders when one of Momo's hands touches the small of her back and grows impatient. The urge to find out what Momo’s lips taste like is hard to resist and Nayeon is tired of fighting.
So she doesn’t.
“Nayeon?” Momo’s voice is hushed now and Nayeon shifts closer, lets herself fall into Momo just a little. There’s only a couple of inches between them left and she waits for any indication that would tell her that Momo doesn’t want this.
When she finds none, Nayeon leans in just the last couple of inches to catch her lips. The intention was just a quick peck, but her heart stuttered at the first touch. And maybe they both froze against each other, until Momo’s hand comes up from her waist to catch her elbow and Nayeon presses further against her. She keeps kissing her, in that same soft way as if she can’t quite pull away. She’s indulging in this as much as she can and because Momo lets her, because Momo is so soft and so warm against Nayeon’s chilly body. Nayeon feels herself beginning to melt against the other girl, the heat in her cheeks drip down to her chest and spread like a wildfire.
All too soon, they’re interrupted when someone stops next to them, way too close and someone yanks her away from Momo by the elbow. “Momo?!”
Nayeon staggers — nearly falls onto a strange man, the alcohol in her system slowing her reactions significantly. She lets herself teeter back towards Momo when a vise-like grip on her wrist drags her back. “Jesus, how drunk is she?”
“Sana—“ Nayeon’s hazy state drowns most of the conversation out, only able to register the stranger’s low tone speaking to Momo.
“Hey,” Nayeon looked up, ready to pick a fight.
Both Momo and this, Sana, whips their heads to her as Nayeon stumbles again. “You—“
“ I— What?” The woman barks.
Nayeon stammers — because really, when a pretty girl is very angry with you and you’re drunk out of your mind, it gets a little hard to speak and form coherent thoughts. And all Nayeon can see is how long Sana’s lashes are and how sharp her brown eyes are. When she’s unable to form a proper response and someone shoulders past her, just enough to send her three steps back, Nayeon reaches for Sana. Sana quickly latches onto the extended hand and drags both drunks to a secluded corner of the bar, before shoving them against it.
“Sana, hey…” Momo’s tugging lightly at the hand that tightens painfully around her forearm and slumps onto the counter when Sana releases her. Nayeon watches with booming curiosity as Sana advances, trapping Momo against the bar, both her arms coming up to confine Momo within the small space.
“...and Mina was saying how you and her— “
While it’s considerably harder for Nayeon to focus with all the alcohol in her system, Sana is clearly sober, but her actions are tainted with anger and something Nayeon can’t quite put her finger on.
“And you!” Sana snaps to her and Nayeon freezes. Nayeon is leaning against the bar, much like Momo herself, but more haphazardly, when it finally registers in her brain that she’s being addressed. Nayeon raises a finger to her own chest and dumbly questions if Sana means her.
“Yes, you.” Sana growls out.
“—going around kissing other people’s girlfriends?!”
Nayeon’s sure she looks crazy. She can feel her own eyes bulging out from shock and rubs at her eyes out of confusion. “Your… She…”
Momo is rigid behind Sana. “Don’t look at her, look at me!”
Nayeon swallows, eyes darting back to the offender. “I— I didn’t know— It-it wasn’t my intention—“
“So what?” Sana spits, her eyes becoming wild. “You just kiss people for fun then? Running around ruining relationships? Thought you’d have some fun with her and then move on as if nothing happened?!”
“No! No,” Nayeon says, quickly raising her hands in a placating gesture. Sana closes the distance between them. Nayeon quickly realizes that she’s rapidly losing control of this conversation and her mind can’t properly grapple the situation at hand.
But Momo — ever the angel, tugs her girlfriend back. Whispering apologies, trying her best to pacify the angry bull that’s her girlfriend. And then they’re pulling away, leaving.
“No! Wait,” Nayeon says, now fully panicking and she gets up as well to grab Sana’s wrist and stop her from marching away with Momo. Sana hisses, tugging against Nayeon’s grip.
And Nayeon’s a stupid-drunk, she knows this from all the stories Jihyo tells her. But god, Nayeon might even be insane for thinking about how pretty Sana is when she’s fucking pissed. All she can see is Sana’s lips, curved into a snarl and her eyes, dangerous — and Nayeon really can’t help it. She tugs Sana closer by her wrist until they’re breathing the same air. Sana pushes against her, resisting, but Nayeon’s hand is curling around the back of her nape to hold her in place as she surges forward.
And she kisses her.
Momo’s girlfriend.
Sana.
Sana, who tastes faintly of a citrus pina colada and a sweet lip gloss.
Sana, who of course, freezes. Stiff against Nayeon, it’s a repeat of Nayeon’s kiss with Momo and Nayeon is quick to pull away at the realization. She looks up at Sana and there is very clearly vulnerability in her wide and unfocused brown eyes. She looks confused and slightly dazed, but there’s a clear blush on her face and over her shoulder, Momo stood wide eyed. She seemed unsure of this entire interaction. Nayeon felt unsure herself, but mostly torn between guilt and the immanent awkwardness of the situation. And any aggression in Sana’s stance previously had seemingly melted away after the kiss.
Nayeon gulps dryly through a long pause. "I'm sorry," she slurred, sounding way too drunk for the words to strike honestly. But she felt giddy; Sana was undeniably gorgeous and that green streak she painted over Momo was possessive and jealous — all things she wanted to taste for herself.
"I, um. You—” Nayeon chokes through her words, “were upset that I— kissed Momo.”
And Nayeon’s very aware that it doesn’t make sense. “I wanted to — I wasn't sure if you—" she trailed off, lost in her own thoughts of better excuses.
Except Sana is only blinking blankly back at her and that feeling of momentary dizziness sweeps in again. The energy she had before quickly diminishes and Nayeon loses all feelings in her knees. Her head lolls to Sana’s shoulder, swamped in sudden exhaustion. Two sets of hands reach for her, Nayeon feels the warmth of them sliding up her arms to hold her upright by the shoulder and waist.
The last thing Nayeon remembers is Momo looking at her fearfully as her lips move, but it’s like she’s drowning. Everything is muffled and the lights quickly are dimming.
—
When Nayeon wakes up the first thing she notices is that her head feels hazy, is even throbbing a little, clear signs of drinking a little too much. The second thing she notices is that no one is holding her anymore.
With a lot of effort, she blinks her eyes open, the room is comfortably dark. She squints through the darkness, a sour taste in her mouth and a slight ache ringing through her head. Turning her head to the side as she stretches, the sight of Jeongyeon sprawled across the sheets beside her is nothing unfamiliar, but suddenly weird. It wasn’t like they didn’t sleep in the same bed most nights, but Jeongyeon was always gone by sunrise. Still, seeing her is awkward, and Nayeon doesn’t want to have to think about their very dead romance and overly complicated friendship or the way it ended.
Shaking it off, Nayeon shifts to the edge of the bed. Her head throbs at the movement and her limbs ache terribly, tense from the rough night. Around the room, Nayeon finds her clothes strewn around the room and some of the only remnants of the night before.
Something about last night's escapades was lost on her. The beginnings closure, but the only thing she remembers is ordering drink after drink and Jeongyeon’s eager expression to setting her up with someone else.
The ache of the break-up had only just begun to fade into the background of her life before tonight and Nayeon really believed this was the first step to moving on. Except waking up to Jeongyeon the way she did is tugging her heartstrings in the wrong direction and a part of her wished it was Jihyo she was waking up next to. She doesn’t really hold against Jihyo, even if she insisted on making sure Nayeon didn’t end up with Jeongyeon again. It’s not like it was her fault that Nayeon drank enough to drown herself and blackout.
A soft tune breaks her out of her musings. The telltale sign of a notification from her phone, and a grimace flashes across her face at the annoying bright light.
The sender’s name flashes on the screen and the text reads, “did you make it home safe baby? <3”.
And all Nayeon can think is: Who the fuck are Sana and Momo?