Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Kim Dahyun doesn’t believe in chance.

She thinks it’s stupid, how some people think that just luck could turn your life around. Her luck isn’t quite working out, which was evident by the dead mother, shitty job, and the fact that she can count her number of friends on one hand. So yeah, luck. It fucking sucks.

So maybe every once and a while she says yes to chance because, why not? Not like anything else was working out for her (which she realizes is so depressing that she could sell it to Taylor Swift or write a memoir that’ll cost 50,000 won. Anguish creates fortune.) So, to hell with it, right?

Just this once, she’d like to give chance a high five.

She meets Chou Tzuyu on a Thursday.

It’s dark, and dreary, and raining heavily, and the other baristas are lazy so she’s stuck cleaning up after closing time. Her roommate Chaeyoung comes in like she always does, umbrella and cappuccino in hand because the last time she asked for a drink while Dahyun was closing up, she almost had a stroke.

She’s not alone today though, which is disappointing because she was really looking forward to screaming expletives at the top of her lungs about her coworkers. (There was one time where they weren’t alone, when one of her classmate-crushes came to surprise her after work. She never visited again.) Her companion is pretty and tall, probably taller than her and Chaeyoung combined. She’s the perfect forehead kiss height (which of course is the first thing Dahyun thinks of because shut up she’s small and lonely okay?) She’s so pretty that Chaeng’s probably already committed her face to memory so she can draw it up and frame it on their tiny apartment wall.

Tall And Pretty is introduced as a friend from one of Chaeyoung’s classes. Dahyun almost makes a remark about said Friend, but stops herself when she remembers another Friend that her roommate was very much into, and what kind of friend would she be if she messed that up. She also stops because the friend smiles, dazzling and gorgeous and everything one would expect from a model the size of Tokyo Tower.

Dahyun drops the lightbulb she was cleaning.

At this point she doesn’t know what’s more embarrassing: Chaeyoung’s smug smirk, the fact that her foot was probably bleeding in front of the most beautiful girl in existence, or that any passerby could see the absolute mess she made through the glass windows in front of the shop.

Tall And Pretty yelps, all adorable and scared puppy-like. Chaeyoung points her to the broom closet after she starts getting antsy while Dahyun is still swearing profanely. (The broom closet where the broom definitely is not, because her idiot coworkers don’t know where to put a broom apparently.) Thankfully Dahyun knows the actual location of the broom, which is in the pantry. Because of course it is.

Her roommate skips with glee to the other side of the counter, and very nearly gets smacked with a broom.

“Need some help there Dubu?” she teases.

“You didn’t tell me you were bringing a friend,” she says instead, ignoring the smirk on her friend’s face. She looks down at the floor and oh—oh that’s a lot of blood. Maybe she should take care of that. God why did she wear flip-flops today.

“I didn’t think I needed to." Chaeyoung looks to the direction her companion went in before speaking again. "Their name’s Tzuyu by the way.”

Dahyun nods absently before pausing. "Wait, they?"

"Yeah" Her roommate leans over the counter and speaks lowly. "Look Dahyun, I love you, but if you give them any shit--"

“What? No, no, I'm not like that. Cool name though, why are they here.”

“Art project.”

Ah yes, Chaeyoung’s many art projects, in which she gets the numbers of pretty girls, draws them, and then never calls them back, because what’s a possible girlfriend to an A?

She’s never wanted to slap someone more.

Tzuyu comes back quicker than expected, sans broom but with a first aid kit that Dahyun’s never seen before in her nine and a half months of employment. It would’ve been very useful considering all the times she’s burnt herself on coffee machines and sliced her fingers instead of sandwiches. They set the kit on the counter and tap it, gesturing for Dahyun to hop up. Chaeng’s busy sweeping the floor while she gets her foot looked at.

“This happen to you a lot Tzu?” she jokes. Dahyun glares at the back of her head.

Tzuyu only glances up from where they're wiping down her foot. “Does what happen?” they ask, and does Dahyun need help because their voice could probably negotiate world peace.

“Oh you know, girls going into such a gay panic around you that they hurt themselves.” God if looks could kill Chaeyoung would be a smear on the ground.

Tzuyu giggles, which sounds like fucking Tinkerbell it’s so cute. “Yeah, definitely. When my girlfriend and I first met she tripped while holding a tray and broke her wrist. I had to take her to the hospital.” And just like that, the record scratches.

Chaeyoung isn’t even effected by the announcement, just sitting across from them sipping her coffee. She wasn’t surprised, which means she already knew, which means that she brought this model to the shop and teased Dahyun about her pretty girl response knowing that said pretty girl--pretty person--had a girlfriend, which means that her eyes were narrowing and someone’s stash of Ramen was going to be in the dumpster by tomorrow morning.

She will have her revenge.

By the time Tzuyu’s done wrapping up her foot (“it’s raining, the band aids would only peel off”) and the floor is completely spotless (because who knew that blood stained so easily on tile), it’s almost nine thirty. It took way too long to do so considering that the shop closed at seven thirty and her shift was done at eight, but introductions were being made and Dahyun was busy trying to figure out how to look Tzuyu in the eye and not see potential. She’s a hot mess, not a homewrecker.

 Chaeng and them agree to do the project another day, because Tzuyu has two co-dependent roommates and an eight o’clock class the next morning. On the walk home Dahyun does what she intended, and bitches about her idiot coworkers. Then she and Chaeyoung almost get arrested fighting about the beauty that Chaeng’s apparently known since high school (“High school? HIGH SCHOOL?!” “If you don’t chill out I’m going to smack you.”)

(“They have a whole girlfriend, Changie. A sweet, caring, probably as beautiful as them girlfriend,” she whines, leaning on her roommate’s shoulder while they watch a trashy kdrama. It’s that kind of night.

“You didn’t really think anything was going to happen, did you?” She stays silent. “Aw, Tofu.”

“You know about my pretty girl response! You can’t tell me that the first time you met Mina you didn’t imagine getting married and having little Japanese-Korean babies.”

Chaeyoung waits only a second before smacking her with her own bloody flip flop.)

She meets Momo and Sana on a Saturday.

Technically she only meets Sana. Momo stays in the apartment for a total of three minutes before leaving for her dance class. They’re at Tzuyu’s apartment, which Chaeyoung dragged her to citing “you need more friends”. While it was true, more friends wasn’t at the top of her concerns at the moment.

So yeah, they’re at Tzuyu’s apartment, which they share with their two roommates. One of their roommates being their girlfriend. Tzuyu’s sweet, caring, larger than life, just as beautiful girlfriend.

The apartment itself is more spacious then she expected, with two bedrooms, one bathroom and a cozy yet spacious open area. It’s definitely bigger than any college student would be able to afford, which makes Dahyun thankful that her not-so-faded crush rooms with two working adults, because at least they're not pretty and rich.

She takes that as the reason she’s so uncomfortable. It’s because this apartment is bigger than the cramped studio that she resides in. It’s totally not because Tzuyu’s girlfriend is sitting across from her, staring at her with wide, dark, soul-searching eyes while the other two are in the other room working. Nope, definitely not.

If there was one word that Dahyun would use to describe Minatozaki Sana, it would be…eccentric. Sana is nearly twenty-five, and acts like she’s less than half that age. She’s not immature, per say, but she’s very loud and bubbly and affectionate, which reminds her a lot of her BMD personality (read: Before Mother Death). It clashes weirdly with Tzuyu’s quiet, shy demeanor, but they do say that opposites attract.

“So Kim Dahyun, what do you do?” Sana asks suddenly. Her voice is like that feeling when cotton candy melts in your mouth. It’s silky and sweet, and Dahyun wants another bite.

She toys with a strand of red hair that’s fallen out of her bun. “Um, I’m a barista?” It’s phrased as a question, because she doesn’t know what she wants to do. She gets up, she goes to classes, she works, then she goes home and binges on some Ramen and kdramas. She doesn’t do anything. It’s quite sad, her life, but at least she knows it.

“That can’t be it. You’re in college, right? You have classes with Tzuyu-ah?”

“We don’t have any classes together, but yeah.”

“Then what are you majoring in?”

Once again, Dahyun doesn’t know. She was undecided for her first two years of university, and when the time came to choose a major she punked out and chose business of all things. She hates business. And while she knows that she can still change her major, it’s her senior year, and graduating into a career she hates seems more fruitful than spending thousands of dollars and four more years just to search aimlessly for one she loves. She’s smart like that.

“Business,” she answers too late. Sana gives her The Look, and she wonders if Tzuyu’s girlfriend is somehow psychic and could hear her entire monologue. She changes the subject desperately, already tired of the same look being given whenever someone hears of her single parentage or the fact that she and her best friend barely make rent for the shack they’re living in. Thirty minutes into the distraction Dahyun has learned that Sana is Japanese, an elementary school teacher, can’t cook to save her life, and may just be the clumsiest person on the planet. All of this information was given verbally of course, except for the last one which happened as she was speaking expressively. She then managed to knock over her cup of water, then almost faceplanting by slipping on that water five seconds later trying to clean it up. (Dahyun offers to clean it up for her in order to prevent another accident—no matter how big your house is, hospital bills are hospital bills.)

Chaeyoung and Tzuyu come out of the room only moments later, speaking a language that all college students know well: Hunger and Exhaustion. It’s only then that her stomach grumbles, reminding her that she hasn’t eaten since breakfast that morning (just a piece of toast. They hadn’t gone shopping in weeks.)

Tzuyu barely makes it to the fridge before Sana jumps her from behind, assaulting the taller one with kisses. It is then that Tzuyu--sweet, beautiful, angelic Tzuyu—pulls out a pizza box. Dahyun nearly swoons (from the hunger she swears, not because their cheeks are red from the kisses and Sana’s giggling like she just saw a video of puppies falling over.)

The pizza comes out sooner rather than later, and they’re all seated around the coffee table while the two artists are explaining the project. Dahyun zones out halfway through the conversation, because while she respects Chaeyoung’s craft, art’s not necessarily her thing. Unfortunately, her gaze decided to land on Sana, currently snuggled up against Tzuyu’s shoulder and absentmindedly stroking her thigh. She glances up at the right moment, just enough to catch Dahyun’s stare. She smirks and winks, the other girl quickly turning her gaze to the throw rug.

The next time Dahyun looks up, Sana’s attention is elsewhere; elsewhere being her girlfriend while they’re busy thumb wrestling. Her face is cutely scrunched up in concentration, a contrast to Tzuyu’s only sign being their tongue poking out slightly. Dahyun sighs, not loudly, but apparently big enough to catch her roommate’s attention. Chaeyoung looks at her weirdly, then glances to where her friend’s sight fell. She switched between the two, finally landing on Dahyun with a look of realization.

The tofu sighs. She’s never going to hear the end of this.

They’re invited to Momo’s birthday party, because why not.

Technically it’s a celebration. (“If we called it a party,” Tzuyu explained over the phone, “Things would get hectic, and I’m too broke, too tired, and have too much homework to deal with that.” Dahyun nodded knowingly, because same.)
Having known the girl for all of five seconds, she’s a bit reluctant. Chaeyoung, however, says yes almost immediately, saying “We need to get out more”. Dahyun was more than fine spending her night practicing on the cheap keyboard she got for her sixteenth birthday, but she refrained from saying anything in order to not hurt anyone’s feelings. Her life may kind of suck, but what’s the hurt in being nice.

The club they go to is chiller than expected. It’s a gay club, so Momo and Dahyun can definitely attempt to pick up some girls before the night is over. (Key word attempt, because a girl hasn’t liked Dahyun since the coffee shop incident of early ’17, and it’s now November.) (Sana and Tzuyu are excluded for obvious reasons, and Chaeyoung is excluded for reasons that she wishes were obvious. Unfortunately, the object of her friend’s affections was as dense as a brick.)

In fact, she’s almost denser than the cement pillar Chaeyoung almost walks into when she first spots the bartender.

“Mina? You work here?” Her roommate asks dumbly, because no Changie, she just happens to be behind the bar with a uniform and nametag on. Although she can see why she likes her, homegirl is rocking the uniform.

The bartender looks up at her name and gives the group a gummy smile. “Chaeng? What are you doing here?”

“Uhhh, birthday.” Dahyun closes her friend’s jaw.

Mina glances through the group, her eyebrows scrunched in confusion. “How do you know Momo?” she asks.

That brings on a long conversation, mediated by Mina serving drinks left and right. Apparently Momo, Sana, and Mina were best friends all throughout school, even moving to Korea together for college. Mina had to move back to Japan their junior year due to a death in the family, and had only come back a little more than a year and a half ago. She had met Tzuyu through those two more than half a year ago, and knew Chaeyoung because she just so happened to know one of Chaeng’s “art projects” from the beginning of the semester.

The amount of coincidences in that story almost made Dahyun believe there was a god.

“Lisa says hi, by the way,” she ends with. Chaeyoung only chuckles awkwardly before downing her drink.

In the next hour, Tzuyu and Sana disappear to the bathroom twice, Momo switches between the bar and the dance floor four times, Chaeyoung barely touches her second beer (because she’s gross), and Mina gets yelled at seven times by patrons telling her to, “stop flirting and serve their drinks”. Dahyun herself is switching between watching those two blush harder than sinners in church and staring at the dance floor.

She’s moderately tipsy, hypnotized by the way that Momo winds her hips to the music. No one there had caught her eye like Momo. In only fifteen minutes with the girl she’d learned that she was a dance teacher, hates country music, and is the most confident person on the planet. Dahyun also learned that apparently she thinks confidence is sexy.

Several men and women try to dance with her, slyly coming up from behind or the side or wherever. The dancer blindly ignores them, eyes closed and dancing smoothly apart from them. The one time she does dance with someone, it’s only briefly before she opens her eyes and moves away. It’s like she’s leaving a space for someone. Dahyun wonders if she could fill that space.

“You’re not very subtle, you know,” says Mina behind her, and she chokes on her drink.

“Says the brick wall,” she returns, ignoring the girl’s little confused sound because Hello, choking.

Mina only looks at her and pats her back remorsefully. Her throat decides to take its sweet time healing, however, and has her choking for a solid minute.

“Where’s Chaeng?” she asks, coughing only slightly.

“Bathroom. Anyways, as I was saying—”

“Yes, I know I’m not subtle. What’s your point?”

“Maybe I just wanted to see your reaction,” she says. Dahyun can only glare, because that is the stupidest excuse she’s ever heard. (She then remembers some of her own responses, and retracts that statement.)

“What’s it to you?”

“How about that she’s my best friend?” She looks to add something on after that, but decides not to. Dahyun ignores it, calling for her to line up some shots.

“So? Not everything is long term Myoui.”

Mina only gives her The Sigh as she takes two shots (the “oh no Dubu what is you doing” sigh, as it’s fondly called). Something catches the bartender’s gaze before she moves on to the next person down the row. Dahyun turns around and slumps.

Apparently that space was not meant for her, but for Sana, who has seemed to return from the bathroom. The two sway around each other, their faces only inches away and their bodies even closer. Sana’s hands are hooked around Momo’s waist, clutching tightly while the dancer does small thrusts and body rolls, each time bringing the two only closer still. No one on the floor approaches them, even giving them a foot or two of space in respect for whatever was happening in their bubble. Out there, the two best friends looked very not-friendly.

Dahyun searched the bar for the other two of their group, partially because she didn’t want to leave her friend with her crush while inebriated, and partially because she didn’t want to leave without a word like an asshole. She figures that they were probably still in the bathroom, and hops off the barstool before freezing, because she witnesses something she probably shouldn’t have.

Sana turns around and grinds her ass into Momo, rising up and down slowly with the other girl’s hands around her waist. It’s dirty and sultry and indecent, and Dahyun can feel something small and hot bundle up in her stomach. The heat grows when Sana opens her eyes, first glancing up at Momo before directing her gaze at her, peering at the pale girl through hooded eyes. Momo’s face tucks perfectly into the crook of her neck, and the teacher’s chest rises as she breathes in something fierce. Dahyun has to turn away before she gets too sucked in, calling another bartender on shift to line ‘em up.

By the time Tzuyu and Chaeyoung come out, only seconds later, Dahyun is much more wasted than she can handle and the two Japanese girls seem drunk on something else. She can only remember a car ride full of giggles and whispers, and falling into the softest bed she’s ever felt before blacking out.

She wakes up clinging to Chaeyoung, her face on her collar and their legs tangled together. At first she fears the worst, because their friendship absolutely would not survive if they ever slept together. Thankfully she realizes that they’re both fully clothed and only smell of alcohol before she’s hit with the worst migraine of her life.

Her hangover is ten times worse than the one she had after her twenty-first birthday, which is confusing when she remembers how much less she drank, and less confusing when she remembers why she drank more. Honestly, the image of Sana gasping on a dance floor will never be erased from her memory.

The birds chirping outside are too loud, and for some reason someone thought it would be a good idea to leave the blinds open for sunlight to come through. (It hasn’t been this sunny in weeks, but the one day that Dahyun has an aversion to light—.) She gently tries to remove herself from Chaeyoung, because the baby beast loses that first part when she doesn’t get enough sleep. After that painstaking process, she closes the window and the blinds, as a good friend should when their bestie is hungover. (She doubts that it’s as bad though, considering that most of her time was spent talking to Mina and by the night’s end she only spotted one and a half empty glasses by her seat.) She then bravely ventures out of the room, hoping to scrape together something vaguely resembling breakfast before the four other people in the apartment get there first.

Due to the squinty, already small eyes, and the general demeanor of a zombie, it took the pale girl a while to adjust to the sights and smells that came with entering the open space. Once she did, however, she saw something that could not be ignored, no matter how much she wished she could.

Momo was sitting on the kitchen counter, her toned legs wrapped around Sana’s waist as the two kissed fiercely. It was strong and passionate, with Momo’s hands firmly planted on the other girl’s butt, squeezing and stroking every once and a while. Every so often they would change their angle, eliciting small, quiet moans from one and a stronger response from the other. It was obvious that they were trying to be quiet, seeing as the radio almost drowned them out. The make-out session wasn’t the weird thing however, no that was what was right next to them.

Less than three inches away was Tzuyu, dressed alike to the two in an oversized shirt and shorts (it could be worse, Sana’s sweatshirt nearly went past her knees and Momo didn’t have pants on at all). They didn’t seem to be bothered at all, calmly flipping pancakes and tending to the bacon in another pan. They even softly rubbed Momo’s thigh, distracted by their phone vibrating. Sana broke away from the dancer, despite her whine, and moved on to Tzuyu’s lips.

Their kiss was wildly different from the one beforehand, it was soft and slow. Sana’s roughness from earlier disappears as she softly caresses Tzuyu’s cheek, tiptoeing in an effort to not move away too much when they break away. She dives back in only seconds later, the taller one gripping her by her waist and leaning closer. There’s not a lot of noise made except for the soft sighs they would release and the heavy breaths that Momo was still taking. They pull away from each other smiling softly, like people in love do in the movies. ‘If they’re happy,’ Dahyun thinks, ‘where does Momo fit in?’

“You’re very needy in the morning,” Tzuyu says. Dahyun can’t help but feel like she’s intruding, with all the soft gazes and the kissing. The feeling gets even worse as Momo reaches for a piece of sizzling bacon, which ends with her being smacked with a spatula and scolded. “You both are,” the tall one amends, and the trio giggle like it’s an inside joke. Momo takes the piece anyway, pecking Tzuyu on the lips before taking a bite.

It’s then that Chaeyoung walks out into the space as well, stopping to take in the scene and Dahyun’s reaction. “What’s up with your face?” she yawns. The three in the kitchen step out of their bubble, turning abruptly to their guests. Her cover is blown.

Sana’s face is blank, but Tzuyu looks apprehensive and Momo looks like she’s about to start attacking if someone breathes the wrong way. They all sigh in relief once the pair starts moving into the kitchen, grabbing plates and pancakes and the half-bitten piece of bacon that Tzuyu didn’t catch. They eat breakfast casually, talking about anything and everything. Chaeyoung barely even has a hangover, so she’s fine while Dahyun is still squinting and wincing.

The three residents are different though, more comfortable. Sana’s sitting sideways on Momo’s lap, her legs stretching across that of Tzuyu’s. She’s curled up into the dancer’s arms while Tzuyu’s head leans on her shoulder. They’re a unit, tangled together in a mess of limbs and hair. Soft touches and kisses are exchanged throughout, making Dahyun’s heart hurt with a certain want. A want that would probably not be achieved in the near future, because the three most attractive people she’s ever met are all wrapped up in each other.

They only unwind once everyone’s done eating, when Momo, Sana, and Chaeyoung offer to clean the kitchen as Tzuyu drags her into their room. They leaves the door cracked behind them, closing their eyes as she listens to the laughs and screams of the fools in the kitchen. They then sit on the king-sized bed, staring straight at Dahyun.

“How much did you see?” They ask.

“How much of what?” the pale girl says, playing dumb. Tzuyu doesn’t seem like the violent type, but some people surprise you.

“You know what I’m talking about.”

Dahyun doesn’t answer. She takes the silence as a chance to look around the room, to examine the pet adoption papers stored in an open file cabinet, the pride flag hanging above the bed, and the remedial math worksheets laying on the desk. Tzuyu notices and snaps, because they weren’t done talking yet.

They sigh. “Look, I’m not going to judge, okay? Whatever you guys get up to is your business and your business alone. I’m not a total asshole.”

With that she gets a strange look. “You’re not the slightest bit curious?”

Dahyun’s mouth moves before her brain can advise against it.

“I mean just a little bit. Like, what exactly are you. Is Momo your mistress? Is Sana your mistress? Who was with who first? When did you meet? Why didn’t you tell us in the first place? Do people know? Do—” She places a hand over her mouth.

Tzuyu only chuckles, shaking their head. “I should’ve known better. To answer your question, we’re a trio,” they say, and that’s all they say. Dahyun almost asks for more before realizing that she’s not in the position to ask questions. Not when she owes the trio for not leaving her at the bar and feeding her, and certainly not after watching the three of them make out over food. Her brain’s still a little fried.

So “Okay,” she says. Tzuyu smiles, that soft, dazzling, glittering smile that started this entire mess.

“Okay?”

“Okay.”

Chaeyoung and her leave soon after that, with the three lovebirds still clinging to each other as they say their goodbyes “We should do this again sometime,” Sana says, and somehow it feels like more than just a friendly sendoff. That thought is swept away though when she catches Momo still glaring at her in warning. Tzuyu looks down bashfully at the comment, then smacking the dancer’s arm as she gives off a small growl.

The pair exit the apartment, taking it slow down the stairs because Dahyun still has a terrible hangover and the aspirin she took at breakfast still hasn’t kicked in yet. Before they step outside Chaeyoung stops, smirking and looking over at her roommate.

“You’re totally screwed aren’t you?” she says knowingly.

Dahyun socks her in the arm and walks out the door.

Chapter Text

    When Dahyun was thirteen years old, she ran away from home.                                                    

     It was a couple weeks after her mother’s death, the smell of the funeral home and the sight of her body were still fresh in the young girl’s mind. Her father was still licking his wounds, and she still detested the sight of anything that was associated with her mother. In the eyes of a thirteen year old, that means the entire house.     

     Therefore, she ran away. 

     She didn’t go far, and it didn’t last very long. She ended up in the arms of a girl not much older than herself, who fed her soup to keep warm and held her close as she cried. She only stayed with the girl for some hours until the girl’s father came home and sent her back, but they might as well have been the most important hours of her young life. The girl’s name was Park Jihyo.   

     And so once again, nine years later, in a time of crisis, Kim Dahyun could be found in Jihyo’s arms, accepting cuddles and eating soup.                             

     The same thing has happened before, when she had had a crush on Chaeyoung the first year of their friendship. Actually, crush seems like an oversimplification. She was utterly infatuated with the younger girl for months, before realizing that she had no chance in high heaven or hell. After that the feelings disappeared, and Chaeng doesn’t know to this day.     

      You really can’t blame her though. A pretty girl is a pretty girl, and as someone who would willingly hang out with her every day, Chaeyoung was damn near ethereal.                                                                     

       Jihyo’s stroking her hair in that motherly way she does while Dahyun blabbers on and on about the three girls who’ve effectively ruined her life. Her rambling gets so loud and disjointed that Jihyo’s two dogs (a corgi and lab named JP and Thomas) start barking madly, despite having known the pale girl for years. Her fear of dogs comes back in full force, causing her to jump and climb on top of the couch.                                                                                                                

     “Calm down Dahyun, they’re only barking cause you’re upset,” the older girl says, gently trying to coax her down from the backrest.                                                                                                        

      “Or maybe they’re like that because they know I’m being a pussy.” Jihyo winces at her vulgarity.   

       "You’re not being...that. You’re just….”                                                                                            

       “What, overreacting? Even if your prude ass won’t say it, the shoe fits.”                                       

       Jihyo sighs. “Look, in a few weeks this all will pass and you’ll go back to your grumpy, single, tragic self.”                                                                                                                                       

       “Wow, thanks Ji,” Dahyun drawls, glaring at her. She shrugs.                                                  

       “You shouldn’t be this stressed about it, is all. Especially if they’re all committed to each other anyway.”                                                                                                                                     

       She supposes she’s right. The trio haven’t done anything to make her think otherwise. Except for Sana, but that’s just her personality. Her and Tzuyu look happy how they are, and Momo attacks anyone who may suggest otherwise. ‘There’s no point in pondering over things so unrealistic,’ she thinks, walking over to the fridge. All the whining made her thirsty, as well as the objects of her ranting it seemed.

       “You’re still not going to tell me who they are, are you?” Jihyo asks, snatching a tossed bottle from the air.     

       “Absolutely not.”                                                                                                                                

       The dogs start up again when someone pounds on the door. A voice follows, yelling, “Let us in Park!”                                                                                                                                      

       “You have a key for a reason Im!” she responds.                                                                             

       The knocking stops suddenly, and muttering is heard behind the door. Not a second later, Jihyo’s neighbors burst into the apartment. Well, Jeongyeon calmly walks in first, shooting them an apologetic look before her girlfriend crashes in.                                                                              

       “Hey nerd, look who we found!” she nearly screams, then gets pulled back outside by an unseen force.                                                                                                                                                       

       “Nayeonnie, please stop,” a familiar voice whines, and Dahyun’s eyes widen because of fucking course they have to follow her everywhere she goes.                                                            

       Life Ruiner 1/3 is yanked through the doorway, nearly stumbling into her via Nayeon’s surprisingly hulk-like strength. They manage to stop themself though, saving the two of them from hitting the ground and saving Dahyun personally from fully turning into a fire hydrant. Short, red, and ready to spout water at any time (be it tears or…tears).

      “Tzuyu? What are you doing here?” Jihyo asks with a furrowed brow. Dahyun’s eyes now look like the woman’s own, because if Jihyo knows Tzuyu then she probably knows about the trio, and—being the smart woman that she is—she’ll probably figure out that they’re the same trio Dahyun’s been talking about in about five seconds.

      “Well I was on my way to my internship when I got snatched by this one,” they say sourly, pointing to a grinning Nayeon. They then seem to realize who’s in front of them, and smiles. “But if you’re here, I guess it can’t be that bad.”                                                                         

       This time she truly does turn red, and Dahyun curses her genes for her pale complexion that makes the change obvious. The other three in the room look between them with confusion until Jihyo (fabulous, stupidly perceptive Jihyo) connects the dots. She can’t help but smirk proudly while saying, “Dahyun, I didn’t know you knew our Chewy here.”                                                 

       She laughs awkwardly, rubbing at her nape. "Yeah, small world. They're Chaeyoung’s partner for a project and I end up getting dragged along whenever anything social happens.”            

        Tzuyu's smile stays, and their gaze starts to make Dahyun sweat. She at least tries to make a point when she looks directly into their eyes as she says, “It’s not fun.”                             

        Her attempt only serves to make everyone in the room laugh, including the loud unattractive snorts from Jeongyeon and the tiny Tinkerbell giggles from the object of her frustrations. 

        She makes her way to the door slowly, rolling her eyes. “Well I think I best be going now,” she says. Tzuyu’s eyes glint, and she swears she can see the lightbulb turning on above their head. She dreads it.

        "I'll come with you.” 

        Before Dahyun can object two others do, Jihyo and Nayeon whining like someone took away their toy. While she likens the younger to a puppy, with her wide eyes and her lips poking out, Nayeon looks like she ate something both disgusting and extremely sour. She whimpers when Jeongyeon smacks her head, turning to her girlfriend in betrayal.  

        "Bunnies don't pout for a reason, Nabongs."

        The whole room laughs when she lunges for her, tackling Jeongyeon off the arm of the couch. Jihyo ignores them (and the dogs who've decided to copy their playfulness) and hugs the pair at the door. "Are you sure you can't stay for a bit Tzu?" She asks. The giant shakes their head.       

       "If I'm any later then I'll want to work longer to make up for it, and I have an eight o'clock tomorrow."   

        Dahyun files workaholic down in her brain, right near loves puppies and is a puppy, and could hit me with a car and I'd say thank you.

        She hugs her as well, but not before giving her The Look, and sighing softly. "Good luck with that," she whispers before pulling away. The pale girl looks to the one referred to, who's still breathtaking even with a scowl firmly planted on their face as they try to pull apart the couple (who are now making out instead of brawling on the floor) and thinks, 'I'll need it'.   

        Dahyun has a piano lesson at one, and needs to go a thirty minute walk past her apartment, which is fifteen minutes away from Jihyo's own. It's currently 12:23, so really Dahyun should've been sprinting in that direction minutes ago. Instead, she's walking calmly alongside Tzuyu, who's been humming something soft and sweet since they set foot on the busy sidewalk. She's counted at least four glances shot her way, not counting the six that she's given towards the other, and honestly wonders if starting a conversation is the safest course of action. She's managed to successfully avoid any meaningful encounters with the trio since they met a week and a half ago, and breaking this streak isn't in her best interests.        Unfortunately, Tzuyu doesn't seem to have her best interests in mind. 

      "So how do you know Jihyo?" They ask. Dahyun seriously considers ignoring them, because in reality it takes her a few moments to realize that someone's speaking to her, and another few to ponder if she trusts her enough to reveal her "tragic" past to her crush.  

       "How do you know Jihyo?" She returns, and mentally smacks herself because really Dahyun, you couldn't have come up with something better?  

        Tzuyu raises a brow. "I asked you first."   

        “That’s valid. Okay so, you know how when you were younger you would always threaten or try to run away from home?” They nod. “I actually did. Jihyo was the one who found me, and I stayed at her place until I got returned to my father. We’ve been friends ever since.”  

         The taller one hums. “Do you mind me asking why you ran away?” They ask.   

         “I was an angsty thirteen year old whose mother had just passed. Does that answer your question?” They both wince at the apparent harshness in her voice. Dahyun supposes she could’ve been a bit more tactful.

         “So, what about you?” she asks, an attempt to forget about the matter.

         “Nayeon and Jeongyeon, actually. They were my first friends when I moved here.” 

         “Moved? You’re not local?” Tzuyu shakes their head.  

         “I’m from Taiwan, actually. I came here once with my family for vacation, then decided to move for university. Those three were kind of my guides.”  

         “Taiwan, huh? You really are an exotic beauty,” Dahyun says smoothly. She mentally high-fives herself when Tzuyu blushes and looks away. That high-five quickly turns into a slap, though. ‘Goddamn it Kim you’re supposed to be getting over them, not flirting with them.’ She had to admit though, they look beautiful when they blush; looks beautiful all the time really…    

         “Hey, are you okay? You seem a little off.” She snaps out of her reverie and looks to the sky. ‘God, do they know all my tells already?’ 

         “Actually, I think I’m just observant,” Tzuyu says innocently. Dahyun groans and blushes, her position nearly breaking her neck. Of course she said that out loud.    

         “Yeah, I-I’m fine,” she stutters out. A certain someone’s hand was was gently placed on her back, rubbing up and down. The touch made her jacket scratch against her back, resulting in something pleasurable and satisfying. A certain spot she touches causes her to groan, and Tzuyu moves all of their attention to that spot. They're still walking, mind you, but the tender presses into her skin makes Dahyun want to stop and lay on the dirty sidewalk. As a pseudo-germaphobe, that says a lot.

       “You should be a massage therapist," she says. Tzuyu snorts. 

       "Thanks, but I like my current profession a bit too much."

       "Which is?"                                                                                                                 

       "Photojournalism." Dahyun hums. "It's why Chaeng chose me for the project, I take good pictures." 

        "Really? I thought it was because you're beautiful. Shows what I know about art." 

        She sees Tzuyu dip their head from her peripheral. She stops when they stop, in front of what she recognizes as one of the most popular news outlets in Seoul.

       "This is my stop," they say. "Hell of an internship, right?"  

       "Right…" Dahyun replies, distracted. Tzuyu was beaming at the building in a particularly charming way, like how they were when they first met. It’s bright and filled with young naivety, a softness you only see in those who haven’t seen the worst of the world (or by those who pretend they haven’t). It’s stunning. 

       “Thank you for what you did earlier, you didn’t need to.” Wide chocolate eyes turned to her.      

        “It’s nothing really. You just looked stressed, and I wanted to help.”  

         'Oh sweetheart, you have no idea,’ she thinks. “Y’know, I think I’ve seen a story about you before.”

         “What?”

         Dahyun nods. “Yep, definitely. The goddess with a heart of gold.” 

         Tzuyu blushes and dips their head again, pink blooming across tanned skin. “As much as I appreciate the flattery, I really do have to go now. See you later?” 

         “Yeah, later,” she says, and finger guns because she hates herself. They simply giggle and enter the building. After that she stands in the street for a while, basking in the glory of having been only slightly a mess. Six people run into her and two yell at her before she starts moving again, reviewing every action with a smug expression.

         Yeah, that piano lesson’s going to have to wait.

        “You two are truly hopeless,” Dahyun says. Chaeyoung throws a shoe at her.

        Mina was just over, and guess who had to watch the not-so-subtle glances and the long suffering sighs when the other left the couch. She had just wanted to stay inside all day, no romance, no triad, doing nothing at all.

        Chaeyoung groans and slouches into the couch. “Boo you whore.”

        “Why are you booing me? I’m right.” They both chuckle, Chaeng giving a thumbs up for A+ meme usage. “Seriously though, she obviously likes you. If you don’t hop on that soon, I will.”  

        “One, no you won’t—”

        “No I won’t.”

        “Two, it’s not as easy as you think. It’s like I can never find the right time to ask her out, or I freeze up before I can do it.”

        “Word of advice? There’s never a right time. You either do it, or you lose her forever.”

       Chaeyoung stares. “That’s a bit overdramatic, don’t ya think?” 

       “Whatever, life’s like that sometimes.” 

       The younger girl rolls her eyes, standing and moving towards the fridge. “I don’t know why you’re trying to give me advice when your own love life looks like a dumpster fire,” she says. Dahyun scoffs.

       “What love life, the nonexistent one?”

       She yelps as a water bottle hits her head, and looks up to Chaeng glaring at her. “Don’t act like you don’t like the trio.”

       “And if I do?” she groans, rubbing her head. Damn that hurt. “It doesn’t matter. Nothing’s going to happen, and I’m gonna get over it in a few weeks. No big deal.”

        “Uh, yes big deal, because you developed feelings for them in the first place. It-” 

        “Uh-uh, stop right there,” she interrupts. “It’s just a crush. You’re saying feelings like I’m in love with them or something.” 

        “Are you?” Chaeyoung asks, and Dahyun freezes, silent.

        “Of course not,” she says, chuckling nervously. “I barely know them.”   

        “Well you must know something, otherwise you wouldn’t be crushing, you’d just be infatuated. And before you give me some stupid argument, I’ve seen you when you’ve been both, I know the difference.” She finds the shoe that was thrown earlier and chucks it at the cub. 

         “Hey, don’t get mad! How did this even happen anyway? Like, I get that they’re pretty, you’d have to be blind not to notice, but you can’t be acting all angsty and lovestruck for nothing.”

          Dahyun sighs heavily, defeated, slouching against the couch. “I don’t know Chaeng, I really don’t.”

          “Try to. One by one.” 

          “Well…Tzuyu’s beautiful. They all are, gorgeous, but there’s something about them that seems ethereal, that sucks you in. They've got this softness to them, and they're so kind, unbelievably so. I mean, they helped me with my foot without question, and the other day they practically gave me a massage because they noticed I looked stressed. They noticed. Who does that? No one pays attention to me!”  

          Chaeyoung makes a noise of protest. “I pay attention to you!”

          “Hush, this isn’t about you right now.” The other girl whines, but Dahyun carries on. “Sana is…there’s something about her that just keeps you hooked, like her personality, y’know? She’s so bubbly, and it’s adorable, but there’s another side to her that I want to get to know. And sometimes I’ll look over and she’ll catch my eye and just...she’ll stare, or she’ll smirk, or she’ll wink or something, but I can feel her eyes saying something, calling to me. Is that weird?”

          Chaeng hums. “Nope, sounds like Sana.”

          “I thought I told you to hush.”

          “You asked me a question!” Dahyun glares and she groans. “Whatever. What about Momo?” 

          “She’s hot.” 

          The short-haired girl stays silent, anticipating more, but nothing else follows. She gives her roommate a look. “That’s it? No five paragraph essay for Moguri?” 

          “What else do you want me to say?” Dahyun says. “I don’t know why, but everything she does seems hot to me, I mean have you seen her?”

          “Yes,” Chaeyoung says. “She’s a crackhead.” 

          “What? No, it’s just that one second she’s all cute and snuggly and the next she’s unbelievably sexy and looks like she’s gonna top you any minute. And have you seen her dan--” She stops suddenly when she hears laughing. “What? What did I say wrong?”

          “Nothing, nothing,” her roommate says, but she’s still laughing her ass off. “It’s just that Momo’s the biggest bottom to ever bottom, but go ahead, continue.”  

          “What?!” she screams, which only serves to make Chaeng laugh harder. “How do you know?”

          “Because it’s obvious, dumbass. If you look at her and see a top, then you’re blind.” She squeals as she’s assaulted with shoes. (As if they had enough money to buy throw pillows.) “I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” she cries. 

          “This was supposed to be a serious conversation!” 

          “I said I’m sorry! Look, continue okay?” 

          “Naw, you just ruined the mood,” she says, pouting. Not as if it wasn’t inevitable, they could never stay serious for long.  

          “Come on bro, you know talking through it helps. Do you at least know what this is now?

          “I don’t know,” Dahyun sighs. “It’s probably just a crush, but it’s like….it’s like, I saw the three of them apart and got lured in, and when I saw them all together I tripped.”

          Chaeyoung stays silent for a while. Then she abruptly stand from the couch, dragging Dahyun with her over to her keyboard. She roughly sits her down on the bench and says, “Play.” 

          The pale girl looks up, confused by her friend’s sternness. “Why?” she asks.

          “You say you think better when playing right? So play. ” She pauses. “Oh, and I suggest you limit interaction before you realize that Momo and Sana are crackheads and Tzuyu’s a savage.  

          “Why?”

           Chaeng sighs. “Well usually, when you’re falling in love with someone everything they do is endearing. There is no dark side to them, which means no escape for you.

           “I’m not falling in love with them!” 

           “Are you sure? Because I know you Dahyun. You said you tripped, and I’m telling you that it’s gonna be a while before you get back up.”

            Dahyun is going to kill Im Nayeon.

            This all started when the bunny decided that the group needed a collective “girls’ night”, because somehow everyone knew each other. (She would have never guessed that Mina and Nayeon used to date, or that Jihyo had certain connections that got Momo her current job.) 

            So they all invited themselves into the trio’s apartment, armed with board games (Jihyo), a Bluetooth speaker (Jeongyeon), and the greatest collection of soju known to man (Nayeon brought that, which made her a bit scared because her and alcohol were a dangerous combination.) 

            All the couples were cuddled up together—including Mina and Chaeyoung, leaving her sitting awkwardly next to Jihyo. She loves the girl, honest, but they’re not the snuggling type.  

            The idea came to be after an intense game of Monopoly, which resulted in game pieces being thrown and Jeongyeon asking for a divorce (that was worrying enough without the two being married, they’d been together since they were college sophomores). Dahyun herself got into a bit of a scuffle, putting Chaeyoung in a headlock when she stole away a particular piece of property that Dahyun had been eyeing for the last three turns. Mina accidentally got a bit handsy when trying to separate them (resulting in a heavily blushing Chaeng), but it made Sana giggle so she forgives her.  

            “Let’s play Never Have I Ever!” Nayeon suggested cheerfully, to which she promptly responded, “We’re not in high school unnie.” Another laugh from the trio, another win for Dahyun, or so she thought. 

            Nayeon poured drinks and started explaining rules while Jeongyeon came back from their collective bathroom break, because it’s always a good idea to pee before you get dumb wasted. Hell, Momo was already halfway there despite the chill atmosphere, and Chaeyoung barely sipped her beer (ew) in fear of acting up in front of her crush. (Dahyun would think this was cute if she wasn’t currently in a romantic crisis herself.)

             “OK, so we all know the rules, correct?” the eldest asked while pouring the last shot of soju. “Whoever the bottle lands on has to ask the question, then they get the bottle, and so on. If you spin and get yourself, you can spin once again. If it happens the second time, then you have the dumbest luck in the world and pass it on to the person to your right. If the question has requirements, follow the requirements.” 

             “And most importantly,” Jeongyeon butts in, recently returned from the bathroom, “DON’T FUCKING LIE. Because you’ll just end up getting exposed anyway.”

             “How would you know if we lied?” Dahyun asks.

             “The fact that you asked that answers your question.”

             “A few warnings, because it’s been a while.” Nayeon points to Jihyo. “Jihyo’s a loud drunk. If she looks like she’s about to speak, cover your ears.” The girl glares and throws a pillow that the bunny catches with her face. She sputters and moves on. 

             “That one is a cuddly drunk. Beware.” She says this while pointing to Sana, who’s proving her point by having almost fully latched herself onto Tzuyu. The younger one playfully struggles out of her hold and says, 

             “She’s a cuddly sober too.” Sana only sighs and rests her head on their shoulder, winking when she catches Dahyun’s gaze. She turns away quickly, trying to think of other things that won’t get her so flustered. Puppies, piranhas, her inevitable death, anything works really.

             “Mina and Momo are touchy drunks. I know you three nasties won’t have a problem, but Chaeyoung? Don’t get too bothered.” The cub currently looks like she’d be anything but, while Mina’s pinkish tint got stronger. The bartender had been steadily drinking the whole night—out of pure nervousness if anything—and her hand was already on Chaeng’s thigh. Dahyun’s surprised her roomate hasn’t had a stroke yet. 

             Nayeon starts of slow, surprising considering her devilish nature, and unsurprising considering her wish to get everyone drunk. “Never have I ever graduated high school” surely gets them all in one shot. The bottle then points at Jihyo, then Mina, who continue the innocent pace of the game. After that though, shit gets racy.

             “Never have I ever given a lapdance,” Jeongyeon says, because she’s looked bored for the last two turns and apparently her girlfriend has passed on her shit-starter ways. Her and Nayeon drink, as well as the trio, and surprisingly Mina. When she takes her shot Nayeon gives her a sly smirk, and that answers that question. Chaeyoung looks between them and frowns, the quiet girl noticing and giving her a comforting pat on the thigh.

              The bottle spins, and lands on Jihyo again. “Never have I ever had sex.” Everyone playfully boos at the girl and drinks.

              “Take one shot for each time you have!” Nayeon shouts. Jihyo glares

.             “We’d be here all night if that were the case,” she says. The circle “ooh”s like they’re all ten years old. “Not for my ace ass, for the rest of you horndogs,” she chides, then spins the bottle. It lands on Nayeon.  

              “Never have I ever had a crush on someone in this circle, and take a drink for every person it was. Or is.” She smirks. Everyone gulps, because faded crushes were just that, faded and never spoken about again. Jihyo takes one immediately, her only one, which only slightly threatens her role as the mom of the group. Mina and Chaeyoung obviously take a shot, at the same time, right next to each other, and look separate ways. Dahyun rolls her eyes. If those two don’t get together soon she’s going to lock them in a closet.

               Dahyun starts as Mina stops with her second shot, and the trio start as well. Nayeon takes two and Jeongyeon takes one. Sana and Momo both take two, and then it’s a standoff between two of the youngest. Tzuyu takes one more after their partners, raising the pale girl’s curiosity. They then give her a look, and she remembers that her shot glass is only half-raised to her mouth. 

               When Dahyun takes her fourth shot, she coughs and tries to relieve the burn sliding down her throat. When she takes her fifth shot, she averts her eyes from everyone’s curious glances. Shouts from outside are heard in silence, and the air turns muggy and awkward. She debates taking a convenient bathroom break before jumping out of the window, just in case. 

              Nayeon quickly spins to Chaeyoung as an effort to move on. The short girl shrugs. “Never have I ever been in bondage?” she says, unsure. She then blanches when Mina drinks, as does Nayeon. Dahyun’s right behind her when each of the trio drink straight-faced, Tzuyu being the only one even remotely close to looking shy about it. She takes a long sip of Chaeng’s nasty ass beer to mask the small heat in her stomach, and to cloud the sensual images appearing in her mind. Damn her dirty mind and active imagination. 

              “Never have I ever roleplayed,” comes from Tzuyu, who’s staring directly at Nayeon. The other girl takes a shot, along with Mina which, ew. Throughout the course of this game Dahyun has learned more about her friends’ sex lives than she had wished to. Chaeyoung looks upset again, but Mina is drunk enough that she can sate her jealousy easily. Dahyun’s a bit envious herself. It’s not every day that your crush willingly drapes herself across you and gropes your boob.  

              Before the bottle’s spun again she sneaks an eye across the room. Jihyo’s dozing with her head in Jeongyeon’s lap, because despite her maturity she still gets tuckered out like most people her age. 2yeon are leaning on each other, looking over the younger girl like proud parents. The sight makes Dahyun smile. Michaeng are doing whatever awkward cuddling they do, and, well, at this point you wouldn’t be able to tell which of the trio the bottle would point to.

              Momo’s sitting sideways on Tzuyu’s lap, curled up on their chest and under their chin, with one hand on the younger’s left tit and the other who knows where. ‘Touchy drunk,’ she reminds herself. Sana’s in the same position as she was earlier, but this time her arms are wrapped more firmly around them and she actually looks like she’s asleep on the tall one’s shoulder. Her small kisses to the neck show otherwise though, as does the hand that’s firmly groping Momo’s behind. They’re one entity, like they were the other day, with adoring looks of contentment and strong claim to each other whispered into the air. Dahyun’s jealous. She doesn’t know of what. 

              The turn goes to Nayeon, who gives Tzuyu a mischievous smirk. ‘Payback,’ she mouths. “Never have I ever had a threesome.” 

              Dahyun curses her mind once again.

              The three obvious ones drink, and that’s it, but suddenly Dahyun’s brain is assaulted with images, so realistic you would think she was in the room with a camera. Sana in between the two of them, kissing Tzuyu like she kissed Momo in the kitchen while Momo trails her mouth up her neck, nipping at her shoulder and down her spine. Someone’s hands grazing up and down her thighs, eliciting the smallest of whines from the teacher and her tensing up in the tiniest ways.

              Her imagination runs wild and free, imagining Momo stealing her mouth away from the younger girl and diving in hungrily. Her fingers sneak their way inside, causing Sana to moan with one hand on Tzuyu’s tit and the other pulling her impossibly close. All of a sudden she breaks away, looking straight where Imagination Dahyun stands and curling her fingers in a ‘come hither’ motion.  

              Dahyun jolts when someone taps her, effectively pulling her out of the fantasy. Jihyo’s looking at her with wide, concerned eyes.  

              “Are you okay?” she says. “You’ve been zoned out for like, three turns.” 

              She gets up abruptly, making the older girl jump slightly. “I’m fine,” she says. It sounds unconvincing even to her own ears. “I just need a moment.” She carefully steps outside of the circle and makes her way to the bathroom, closing the door as gently as possible. 

              Once safe inside, she runs the sink, silently apologizing to the trio’s water bill. She splashes her face three times to wake herself up, shakes it off, and then another four times to erase the images from her head. Update: it didn’t help. 

              She manages to get water in her eye and yelps, sitting on the toilet. She puts her face in her hands, with one of them smacking and the other desperately wiping at her eyes. “I’ll talk to her,” she hears, and groans. The door opens.  

              It’s Momo. She would’ve been fine with Chaeng, or Mina, or even Nayeon at this point. Almost anyone would have been fine but Momo, who she can still imagine licking into Tzuyu’s mouth as her fingers smoothly pump in and out of Sana. Momo, who nearly growled at her because she thought she disapproved of her relationship. Momo, who was the final piece in this mind-rattling puzzle that will probably haunt Dahyun forever. Anyone but Momo.

              She then hears Sana’s fictional whining in her ear, and decides that Momo isn’t so bad. "Hey, are you okay?" the dancer asks.

              "I'm fine, I think I just drank too much," she says, unconvincing once again. 'Damn it Dahyun, try harder.’ 

              "Well yeah, five shots in one sitting is a lot, even for me." They both chuckle softly. "No but really, don't lie to me. You looked like you were about to either pass out or burst a vein."

              "It's been a long day--" Dahyun starts, but Momo makes a noise.  

              "Excuses, excuses." She sighs. "Look, I know we don't know each other as well as you know Chaeng or Jihyo, but you can tell me anything." 

              Dahyun pauses before she says anything. "You know that's an oxymoron, right?" The dancer tilts her head like a confused puppy. "I don't know you well, so I don't trust you well, and yet you're inviting me to tell you anything like you're my best friend. It's redundant, an oxymoron."

              "Cute and smart," she says, giving a small smile when Dahyun flushes red.

              "You don't have to tell me if you don't want to. I know I came off as a bit hostile when we first met, but I'm just overprotective I swear--" 

              "No, no, it's no problem. It's just awkward to talk about, is all." She groans and puts her face in her hands again. Momo stays silent by the sink, curious and forthcoming. God this is embarrassing. She groans again. "It's just that, um, I have an active imagination, like the imagery there is on point or something, and well, you drank when Nayeon said the thing about threesomes and, um." She rushes it out, quick and muffled.   

              "I imagined you and your girlfriends having sex. Vividly."    

              A silent "oh" comes out, and she groans again, instinctively pulling her hair to cover her face.   

              After a moment Momo says, "well it could be worse.” 

              Dahyun looks up, dropping her hair. "Huh?”  

              "Yeah. When we all first got together an ex-friend of mine said that he jacked off to the thought of us having sex. Frequently.   

              "Ew."                             

              Momo nods. "Ew indeed. Emphasis on ex-friend." 

              They’re silent for a while after that, breathing in the absurdity. Dahyun’s successfully moved that certain imagery somewhere else, though now she’s plagued with the sight of Momo looking down at her with soft, warm eyes, and thinks that maybe Chaeyoung was right about distancing herself from the three. She can’t help but stare, and can’t even tear her gaze away when she’s caught. The dancer’s eyes shift and harden with something akin to curiosity and wonder. But what does she know, she’s never been great at observation.

              A soft knocking breaks their little contest, and Sana’s sweet voice floats through the door. “Are you guys good in there? It’s been a while.”  

              Dahyun checks the clock. It has indeed been almost fifteen minutes since she came into the bathroom. Oh well.

              “Yeah, we’re fine babe,” Momo says, and she pretends that her heart didn’t sway for just one word.  

              “Alright, just checking.” She walks away from the door for a second before coming back. “Oh I almost forgot, Nayeon and Jeongie want dibs on the spare room, but Tzu said it’s going to Chaeng and Dahyun unless they’re leaving.”  

              “How chivalrous of her,” Dahyun says, the other voice in the room echoing her. They share a quick smile, and she wonders if she’s swallowed any larva recently. 

              “Yeah. Chae said she’d rather stay but only if you’re fine with it. Something about ‘Bro Code’.”

              Ah yes, “Bro Code”, something the two roommates developed after a particularly traumatizing romantic tragedy. Also known as, “I’m not going to leave you in a position with your crush where you can do something disastrously stupid”. Good times. She’s glad that Chaeyoung remembers.  

              “We’ll be right out,” Dahyun says. Sana hums before moving away from the door. 

              When they finally exit the bathroom (thank god, the air got a little suffocating in there), she’s practically ambushed, tackled in a cuddle pile that she thinks was supposed to have one less person. Momo was already pressed against her back when they came out, arms looped around her neck and with her mouth close enough to kiss skin. (She almost did a few steps ago, a small, accidental brush that made her stop and her cheeks flare up. The dancer just giggled.)               

              As soon as they come out Tzuyu comes and latches onto them—well, onto Momo—in a move that seems unlike them. Then Dahyun smells the alcohol in their breath and lets go of the thought. 

              “Come to bed,” they whisper in the dancer’s ear, and once again Dahyun feels like she’s invading on something personal and privy, something she’s not supposed to see. Momo gives a cute “eh?” before turning to her girlfriend. 

              “But I’m not tired.”     

              Tzuyu simply smirks and drags her away. Only seconds later Sana comes up and hugs her from the front. She accepts it, although a little surprised, and selfishly digs her nose into the other girl’s neck. She smells like raspberries. 

              “You know you can come to us about anything, right? We’re friends now,” she says suddenly. Dahyun startles and inches away from the hug. It’s a difficult task, because Sana’s hugs feel somewhat like being wrapped in a warm, cozy, raspberry-scented blanket.   

              “Huh?” Sana giggles. 

              “You sound like Moguri with that. But I mean it, anything, anything at all.” After that she smiles like she knows, and that’s even scarier than when the older kids at school made her watch The Conjuring on Halloween. She hates scary movies, and she hates being exposed, but right now only one of those could do her in for trouble. She shakes her head.  

              “Why did you hug me?” Sana furrows her brows, takes on a cute look of concern and curiosity. 

              “You just looked like you needed one.” Before Dahyun can process whatever that meant, the older girl brushes by and opens the door to her bedroom. Through the crack she could hear whispers and giggles, and Sana whining, “Why’d you start without me.” She could picture her pout.  

              She sighs, and over the course of the night when her insomnia makes the ceiling very interesting, she sighs again. It’s then that she realizes that she’ll be sighing a lot over the next few months.   

              A whole lot.

Chapter Text

          It’s unsurprising, really, that Dahyun stands in front of the trio’s door longer than necessary. People have a natural sense of self-preservation, a wish to delay the inevitable trouble that certain things were going to cause you. From the way she sees it, there are two explanations for why she stood in the hallway for seven minutes more than she should have.

         There’s the obvious one: that she’s a pussy and doesn’t ever want to go into that apartment again unless it’s absolutely necessary. Last time was a disaster, with her pseudo-revealing her crush(es), having a vivid sex daydream about them, then making the (terrible) decision to sleep over and witnessing them making out again the next morning (honestly, are they even capable of not touching each other for five minutes?). She figures that it’ll be the same every time: situation, embarrassment, walking in on things that make her heart and body hurt. (‘Lather, rinse, repeat,’ she thinks bitterly). So on the off chance that she does have the worst fucking luck in the world, she’d rather not encounter any of them ever again.

         Then there’s the second option, which she thought of when she heard soft classical music flowing through the door, chords and melodies calming her nerves and warming the soul. She’s always been an enthusiast.

         She’s still pondering the validity of her excuse when the door opens, revealing Sana in round eyeglasses and comfy clothes. The apartment smells like dust and febreeze, and she has a browned Swiffer bottom in her hand. Dahyun suddenly feels inferior, being in front of someone who cleans every other weekend while her shared shoebox has two items picked up every other month.

         “Dahyunnie!” she says. She moves to hug her before remembering the filthy rag in her hand. “Are you here for Chaeyoung? They’re not done yet.”

         “Really? Well then I guess I’ll come back later…” Dahyun starts moving away from the door. Sana’s eyes widen and she waves her arms wildly.

         “No no no, don’t go. Come in, I’m not doing anything right now.” She quickly ushers her inside, and in a matter of seconds Dahyun is on the couch with a steaming cup of tea in her hand.

         “I’m surprised no one tried talking to you out there.”

         Her brows furrow in concern. “Is that something they usually do?” Sana just waves her away.

         “It’s nothing. The worst we get is just some nosy neighbors,” she scoffs, “or those frat boys next door. But they only show up after we’re too loud.” She finishes her statement with a wink, leaving Dahyun feeling like she missed the punchline. She’s always been a bit slow.

         She blinks once, twice, before flushing red. “Oh.” Sana only smirks and leans back into the sofa. “Do you always speak so freely about your sex life?” she mutters.

         Sana shrugs. “Only to the inner circle, if you know what I mean.” Her face falls as she seems to ponder something, absentmindedly biting her lip. Dahyun swallows. “That’s just a thing we do, the eight of us, we’re all wildly inappropriate with each other. But if it makes you uncomfortable then we can tone it down a bit.”

         At first she panics, only slightly, and wonders if Momo told the rest of them about the incident on Saturday (a bit unfaithful of her, since the dancer swore herself to secrecy the next morning). To be fair, it was now Wednesday, plenty of time for her to accidentally spill the bean, but Sana only stares at her with wide, sparkling eyes, no sign of her words being teasing. After that it’s easier to recognize that she’s now in the area of “inner circle”. Progress.

         “No, it’s fine. You uh, you don’t have to adjust for me,” she says. Sana smiles softly and sips her tea, shifting her attention to the locked guest room. She lets out a breathy chuckle.

         “Y’know, they spend so much time locked up in that room. If I were a different person, I would be fearing for my relationship.”

         Dahyun raises an eyebrow. “You trust her that much?”

         Sana sets down her tea and looks at her strangely. “Well of course I do. Tzuyu’s not that type of person, and if Chaeyoung was that type of person, then Mina wouldn’t have been attracted to her, and they wouldn’t have the weird thing that they have going on now. It’s all up to fate.”

         Well that’s interesting. “You believe in that kind of stuff?”

         Sana shrugs. “Well I mean, things happen for a reason, don’t they? Otherwise then the world is just cruel. And there are some things that can’t be explained by just sheer will.”

         It’s the kind of statement that throws you for a loop, especially coming from the mouth of someone like Sana, who Dahyun thinks is the perfect mix of bubbly and airheaded. Just enough of both to be fun and charismatic, and yet still able to surprise people by saying words that sound straight out of a philosophy book. She’s smarter than she looks, and that’s just one more thing for Dahyun to end up swooning over.

        Her words make sense though, because it couldn’t be sheer will that she met the three of them, could it? It’s impossible that she met three people who make her heart jump just by herself, she’s not that powerful. She’s not that lucky. There’s no way that she managed to meet eight people who are both the best and worst parts of her life by any way other than fate. Although, fate wouldn’t kill her mother, or have her dad wear a proud patch with the number thirty on it only a couple years ago. Yes, fate truly is marvelous, but it shouldn’t be malicious.

        No, she won’t change her mind.

        “Are you doing anything over break?” The question comes while Dahyun’s still pondering the events that made her her, accompanied by the small creak of a door and Sana’s small gasp. She and Tzuyu meet her eyes when she zones back in, with the tall one wrapped around Sana and their face nearly buried into the crook of her neck. She shakes her head, ignoring the way her breath catches when she sees how cozy they look together, how she wishes to fit in with them and their stupid oversized sweaters and stupid glasses and stupid love for each other. Soft, her heart screams, and she feels like those dumbass fans on Twitter.

        “Not really. I’m going to go see my dad for a few days though,” she answers. Sana pouts.

        “Not for too long I hope, I wanted you to be here for my birthday.”

        Dahyun’s brows furrow before she remembers a conversation that they had, about Sana being a late Christmas gift because she was born only four days after the day. Truthfully, she could just let it be, because she knows that the trains are going to be wild and crowded with people going to and from home and that she should spend more time with her dad, but a certain pair or two of puppy eyes convince her otherwise.

        So she shrugs and quirks up the corner of her lips saying, “I’ll think about it.” The two of them do a small cheer until she speaks her next words with nothing but genuine curiosity. “So if we’re celebrating here then you must get back quick, huh?”

        Their faces don’t fall majorly, but Sana’s smile falters just enough for Dahyun to know that she said something wrong. “Do you guys not go home for Christmas?” she asks, treading carefully.

        Tzuyu smiles bitterly. “We usually just stay here for holidays. It’s hard you know, with three people and two different countries. We’re not sure if anyone’s bought tickets to Korea yet either.” Sana nods along, leaning back into her girlfriend’s embrace. There’s more to their answer, Dahyun can tell, but Chaeyoung interrupts before she can ponder it more.

        “Dubu-unnie!” she says when she enters the room. She drops the huge box in her hands on Dahyun’s lap, drawing a yelp out from her roommate. It’s so big that she can barely see over the box, but she can still hear the tiny giggles that erupt across from her. Considering the expression on their faces mere seconds ago, she’s fine with being the butt end of the joke sometimes.

        The morning she's meant to go home, Dahyun wakes up in a bed that's not hers. The sheets underneath her aren't crumpled like they always are after she sleeps, there's no sign of the hot chocolate stain that sits on the bottom left corner of her sheets, and the cat that sometimes lurks in their apartment isn't currently raking pink lines down her legs. It's weird, for sure, but her exhaustion overpowers her curiosity as she sinks back into the mattress.

        A warm body slings their limbs across her own, curling up against her back. For a moment Dahyun fears that she pulled a stupid and got wasted enough to sleep with someone. Then she realized that no one would willingly sleep with her, much less when she’s drunk and incoherent. Sad, but true.

        It’s someone taller than her, obvious by the way that her feet only hit their shins and their nose is poking into the back of her head. No hair was falling into her face, so they must have short hair, and she thinks of who she drinks with in close company, because she much rather prefers drinking at home than in public, and there was no other explanation for why she didn’t remember the previous day. The body behind her groans and burrows further into her, and instead of freezing up or backing away she welcomes the embrace, a hand moving to clutch at the tight grip the other person has around her waist.

        Dahyun hates being too warm. She gets sweaty, her skin gets clammy, and she feels like she’s suffocating. The person behind her’s blood runs hot, like they permanently live in a sauna, but their warmth penetrates her skin instead of sticking to it. It’s a good warm.

        “Dahyunnie,” they groan again, and she realizes with a comforting (comforting?) realization that it’s Momo. Slowly, things come into perspective. The person big spooning her is Momo, it’s mid-afternoon, and they’re both exhausted from a long day of dealing with their coworkers. Of course, there’s the underlying panic in her mind about the fact that she’s in this situation at all, but she’d rather just sleep again and not deal with it.

        The door creaks open slowly and Tzuyu peeks their head in. They enter with a soft “hey”, looking like they needs all but a halo in the golden light of the almost-afternoon. She's surprised at the comfort she feels instead of anxiousness, letting out a soft response of her own while Momo grunts behind her. Tzuyu falls onto the bed and they tangle together in a cluster of messy hair and bare legs. Only one thing is missing, and she walks into the room with a tray and four plates of grilled cheese. Dahyun’s favorite.

        “Someone wake up Momo before the food gets cold,” Sana says as she sets the tray down. She takes a bite out of her own sandwich and smirks down at them. “You look comfy."

        She is. Dahyun’s on her back now, having rolled over to make room for Tzuyu’s head on her stomach. She doesn’t tell Sana that Momo’s already awake, or that she knows by the little kisses being pressed to her neck and the slight fingers she sees running through Tzuyu’s hair. Sana sits herself on the small edge of the bed that’s left, strokes each of their heads before getting to Dahyun and pressing a butterfly kiss to her hairline. It makes her chest ache, because the attention and love she feels now is overwhelming. It’s the most attention that she’s had in ages.

        “I know it’s been rough lately,” Sana says softly. “How are you feeling?”

        Dahyun pauses before she answers, focusing on how she relaxes in Momo’s hold and how she’s being truly pampered for the first time in years. Not the mani-pedi kind, which of course makes her more aesthetically pleasing (and when she comes to think of it she hasn’t had one of those in a while either), but the kind that makes her eyes droop and her stomach full, her heart bursting with an inexplicable feeling for these people in an inconceivable amount of time.

        “Good, I’m good,” is what she says, only seconds before her eyes close. She’s never been happier. It’s perfect, almost too perfect, and the fact comes to play when she’s woken up by a sharp pain in her shoulder. She lazily swats at Momo, turning over with a groan. Her eyes open when she’s hit the second time, staring into Jihyo’s own wide ones and flickering around at her surroundings. Jihyo takes her chin and lifts her head off of the cool glass window.

        “Wake up, we’re almost there,” she says gently.

        A sudden chill runs through her, both from realization and the fact that it’s late December. She’s in deeper than she thought, chock full with emotions that can’t be described in words, not by the best poet she knows or any of the ones she’s had to read for class. But how else could she describe the swells and the pain and the dread? She can’t to herself, much less to another person. Not that another person would understand how she feels, to be....to feel so attached to three people who only have eyes for themselves.

        And the second fact comes almost a minute later, delayed by detachment. The remnants of orange sunlight fades into only a memory, as does the smell of the grilled cheese and the warm hand stroking over her hair. Their smiles though, their faces, she can remember those clear as day. There’s a line between them, a wall with only a small section to squeeze through, and on the other side of the divide, she’s cold.

        It’s been a long day, and Dahyun’s missed her father’s arms.

        Jihyo’s already had her little reunion at the airport where her dad picked them up, and of course she managed to get a piece of the love too, but it’s better when it’s from your own family. If she were more insightful, more poetic, she’d write a whole paper on sensations. Sensations are different depending on the person, not necessarily an interaction. The embrace a stranger is less intimate from that of a lover, and both are less nurturing from that of a father. A father’s embrace is one that you can release all your worries in, focusing on the fact that the hands that hold you know are the ones that have kept you stable since you were born. So when she finally gets home, she nearly cries from the relief she feels of the weight she undercompensated being lifted from her shoulders. It was a lot.

       Her father, a kind man, admirable in nearly every way she can see, only smiles and hugs tighter. She feels how his arms hover above her now slumped shoulders, can feel his steady heartbeat from the way her head has fallen into his chest. She sighs, and he chuckles, shaking his head.

       “That’s a heavy load you’re carrying there, snowflake,” he says. “For how long?”

       She tones it down a little, if only not to worry him. “All day,” she says. It’s a part of the truth, at least.

       “All day? Impossible, it’s barely eleven.”

       “Hmm, it’s been a lot,” she repeats. Well, not repeat technically because she didn’t say it out loud the first time, but it’s what she thought so technically…..technically it doesn’t matter.

       Anyways.

       He chuckles again right before someone clears their throat. The pair pull apart to glare at Jihyo’s father, whose face holds a playful expression of impatience. “Sorry to interrupt this touching scene,” he says, “but it’s cold out here and there’s a perfectly good fireplace you can have your heartfelt gestures near.”

       Dahyun’s dad smacks him on the arm as they finally walk inside. “As if you didn’t share the same scene with Jihyo at the airport, Jinyoung.”

       “Well Jeongsu, I am nothing if not hypocritical.”

       The whole affair of dinner doesn’t take too long, in fact it seems like her father’s had everything prepared since the early morning. And while with the girls she’s at her home away from home, it’s here that she feels the most comfortable and relaxed, like when she was a child and all she had to do was go to school, play the piano, and love her family. She does the same now, of course, but the differences between the stress of childhood and the stress of adulthood are vast and inexplicable.

       It’s not easy though, to try and ignore the tingling thoughts she can hear in the back of her head, even as she stuffs her face and laughs with the rest of them. Even through the present exchange (her favorite part of the holiday), it’s impossible to forget the warmth in the air, or the phantom fingers running through her scalp, or the expectations she has that won’t be fulfilled (at least not anytime soon). It’s too distracting, and her distraction is too noticeable.

       Right now though, she’s fading in and out of the conversation, something about this new vocal teacher that seems to have taken an interest in Jihyo. She’s happy for her friend, honest, but it gets tiring hearing about your friends’ successful love lives while all you have to your name are the three taken girls you’re definitely not falling in love with. The dream she had doesn’t make matters any better either.

       “What’s her name again?” she asks absentmindedly. Right now her focus is on the scenery behind Jihyo, her eyes switching between the dull blue skies, the dreary front lawns, and the rooftops without a hint of snow on them. It doesn’t feel like Christmas.

       Jihyo turns to her in the middle of her rambling and sighs. “You weren’t listening at all, were you?”

      Dahyun hums. “I know how much you love repeating yourself.”

      The older girl’s eyes soften as she takes in her friend’s lackluster demeanor. “Dahyun, are you okay? You’ve seemed off all day.” Jeongsu does the same and clasps a warm hand on his daughter’s shoulder. “You know we’ll listen,” he says.

      She simply shakes him off as gently as she can, reassuring them with a small smile. “I’m fine, go on Jihyo.”

      It’s at this time when she almost curses the Park’s seemingly hereditary trait of generosity, because once they notice that something’s wrong, they won’t drop it again, no matter how much you want them too. It also seems to have rubbed off on her father over the years, as they all lean forward to give her their full attention. Her anxiety flares up. She was always bad at confrontation. Jeongsu notices this and tries his best to comfort her, taking her hand in his and rubbing small shapes at the base of her thumb.

      “Dahyun, honey,” he starts with a sigh, “do you remember what I said when you came out to me?”

      ‘Well yeah, it’s not exactly hard to forget,’ she thinks. Partially because it only happened a few years ago, and partially because what he said that day was only slightly scarring. Not in a bad way, just…it’s weird to think about. She goes with the first option. “Yeah, you said you’d known since I was in the third grade and said I wanted to marry Ms. Hani.”

      He chuckles, but shakes his head. “No, the other thing.” Dahyun groans.

      “You also said that it was okay, because you had been fucking Jinyoung for the past year.”

      The other two in the room burst out laughing while the father-daughter pair are less than amused. Both are showing the same habit, blushing furiously as the Parks howl with laughter. Dahyun starts up eventually too, if only at the scandalized look on her father’s face. Jihyo sobers up first though, wiping at the tears in her eyes as she speaks.

      “Yeah, that’s still weird by the way.”

      “And it’s still not what I meant,” he stresses, and everyone seems to calm down. “Dahyun, my darling dense daughter, I said that you could tell me anything that was troubling you like that. Not—not….the other things.” At that everyone in the room starts giggling again, even her father. Even if she didn’t pick the most direct route in the conversation, it was the one that lifted her spirits just a bit. That makes everything a bit easier.

      She opens her mouth, but still can’t seem to get the words out her throat, because it’s so different. Yes he reacted well to her liking girls, but three girls at once? Wanting to be with all of them at once, as they are all together? It’s a situation not well breached by, well, anybody. Not only that but it’s hard to explain, and she thinks it would be easier if she were taken over by a poet or a symphony at that exact moment. Jihyo, her kind, understanding sister, takes the reigns. “I know what this is about,” she says, and the attention comes to her. “She having some…romantic issues. And that’s all I’m going to say.”

      Her last statement makes Dahyun through her hands up in frustration, but she understands that someone else can’t do everything for her in things of importance. She sighs. “So there’s this girl…and this other girl…and then another one.” She pauses, letting it sink in, and gets a surprising reaction from her father.

      “That’s it?” he says, and she nods with just a bit of confusion. “I’m disappointed. I thought my little player would get four.”

      She cracks a smile at that. Leave it to her dad to see a player in her instead of the ball of mess she sees in the mirror. “It’s not just that though. They’re a trio—they’re all together—and they’re beautiful, every single one of them. At first I just thought I was admiring them, or that I was jealous because I wanted what they had, but as time went on I caught…feelings.” At the last part she shivers for comedic effect. They know how much the big, strong eagle hates feeling things. (She’s over it now, of course, but it’s an inside joke from her childhood that never seemed to wear off.)

      She sighs again. “And it’s hard to get away and evaluate this, ‘cause they are literally in every aspect of my life right now. They’re all in the friend group, one of ‘em’s doing a project with Chaeyoung right now, every event seems to be at their place. They’ve invaded my thoughts, my dreams, they’re like parasites. Beautiful, funny, sweet, amazing parasites.”

       Jinyoung frowns and shakes his head. “I don’t think that’s quite right.”

      Dahyun raises a brow, because how can he tell her about her description of someone he’s never met before. “Excuse me?"

      He clears his throat, shakes his hand as if to retract his statement. “Not in the rude way of course, but I’m a biology teacher dear, and by my understanding, parasites are like leeches. They take away energy, resources, blood—they are made to harm. So I’m asking you to think about it some more when it comes to calling them parasites because, are they harming you?”

      She thinks about it, for about a minute more than she really had to (which was only a second). The answer comes clear and shrouded by fear, for reasons that we all know and shouldn’t have to reiterate, but it changes her perspective. What kind of person is she to call them parasites if the pain they cause is not by them, but seems to be merely self-inflicted?

      So she says, “no.”

      (“Tell me about your girls,” her father asks later that night, after the Park’s had gone two streets down to their home and before they fell asleep in an equally buzzed stupor. There was nothing sweeter than her father’s eggnog, except for maybe the lips she fantasizes about every other night.

       “Well, they’re all foreign, and you know that adds intricacies in itself, because they’re unlike anyone I’ve liked before.” Her father hums understandingly. “Momo, the oldest—pardon my French here Dad—but when I first saw her I thought she was the sexiest woman I’ve seen in my life. She’s a dancer, y’know, so they have that way of moving that makes everyone else look like they’re toddlers again, but the way she does it is like it’s enhanced somehow. But then when you get to know her, she’s a bit childish, but very sweet, and a bit protective. It’s something you wouldn’t expect."

        "When you first meet Sana it’s a bit overwhelming, because she’s very peppy and bubbly, and a little touchy, but you can tell that that’s just a part of her personality, y’know. And she seems like a bit of an airhead, but then she’ll come at you with some strange sort of wisdom. There’s something about her that just sucks you in and makes you hang onto every word she says."

         "And Tzuyu, the youngest, they're beautiful. I wish I had a picture so you could see. If their portrait was in a museum I could stare at it all day. But even with that, they have this façade of innocence that just attracts your attention. They're a very lovable person, and it’s visible in every interaction someone has with them, but they're very stoic also, which makes it hard to believe that they're younger than me."

         "They all have their intricacies by themselves, but when they’re together? It’s like my attraction is increased tenfold. Which sucks, by the way, since I know they’ll never like me back. Every time I try to push these feelings down, make them dissipate before they can get any worse, they do something or my mind imagines something that just pulls me in deeper, and it’s draining me, Dad, I can feel it. And I don’t know how to stop it.”

         Her father hums, taking it all in. He sips his eggnog, swallows it with a big gulp before starting. “Dahyunnie…I want you to know that it can be very easy to push away things that are draining you, but can also be very hard. I also want you to realize that, as you’ve told me, there are a lot more things you are unhappy with in your life than those girls. Your major, your job, for example."

          “I’ve told you many times that everything happens for a reason, and yet you still believe you can change what the world wants to occur. You don’t have to listen, but I believe that you did not meet those girls for them to cause you more harm. Leave your feelings to sort out themselves. If you were meant to get them out of your head, then you would have.”)

           Two days after Christmas, Dahyun gets a rude awakening. Quite literally.

           “Wake up you sleepy tofu!” is screamed at her, and she opens her eyes when a pillow forcefully smacks her in the face. She pops up almost instantly, eyes wide and searching as she tries to find the culprit. When she does, she’s well prepared to skin Chaeyoung alive and pin that impish grin in a frame on the wall. The feeling gets stronger once she looks at the clock.

           “Chaeyoung…” she drawls in a dangerous low tone. Her roommate gulps and smiles sheepishly.

           "Yes my dear best friend who I love so much?"

           “Why did you wake me up at 8:30 on a Saturday?” Chaeyoung stands up from where she’s kneeling over Dahyun and slowly makes her way off of the bed.

           “Well, you know that it’s Sana Day Eve.” Oh, well that’s not so bad. “And I thought you wanted to spend as much time as possible with your future girlfriend. Sorry, girlfriends.”

           It takes only a few seconds for her to jump out of bed and grab a pillow, and by that time her roommate has scrammed. She’s not very fast, or very agile, but she has no choice but to chase after her in order to preserve…is it her pride? She thinks it’s her pride. Yes, it has to be.

           She crashes into the open area, where Chaeyoung is nowhere to be found. They’re both around the same size, but her friend has such mannerisms and stature that she seems smaller, and is able to hide easily. Except for when she’s in a haste, apparently, because Dahyun can see a head of brown, shaggy hair poking out from behind the couch. She sneaks up to it as silently as she can, then climbs on top and smacks the top of her head with the pillow in quick succession, sprinting away before the other girl could react or retaliate.

           In the course of around fifteen minutes the girls chase each other around the small apartment, trying (and failing) their hardest to not knock anything over, and showing their youth with their screams, yelps, and seemingly endless stamina. They finally stop when Chaeyoung gets in a particularly good hit, one that brings Dahyun to the floor with a red mark on her cheek, and the neighbors decided that they had had enough and knocked aggressively on their shared wall. They both make a note to send them apology chocolates, or something. That’s what nice people do, right?

           Chaeyoung collapses to the ground with her friend shortly after, tossing her a water bottle and joining her in her heavy breathing. “So,” she gasps, “I assume that you’re feeling better about the situation?”

           Dahyun takes a minute to reply, still gulping down water like she’s been dehydrated for days. “Just because I don’t hesitate to beat your ass doesn’t mean I’m feeling anything Chaeng,” she says. She pokes her cheek, wincing at the slight burst of pain it brings.

           “Well that’s not going away for a while.”

           “If it makes you feel any better, I’m gonna have this bruise on my knee for like the next week."

           “But I didn’t run you into the table Chaeyoung, you did.” Dahyun pushes herself up with the coffee table, then walks into her room. “Did we have to be there at a specific time?” she shouts behind her.

           “What?”

           “For Sana’s birthday, do we have to be there at a certain time?” she repeats.

           Chaeyoung smiles.                                                                                         

            “YOU’RE HERE!” Momo shrieks when she opens the door, and leaves Dahyun only seconds to mourn her eardrums before latching on to the pale girl. Chaeyoung only chuckles before she leaves them, spotting Mina inside the apartment sitting on the couch. Dahyun furrows her brow.

            “Did Sana and Tzu not believe me when I said I would come?” she asks. Momo only shrugs.

            “They did, but we’ve learned not to get out hopes up with some things.” With that she detaches and reenters the apartment, leaving Dahyun to ponder what happened to have her make that comment in such an offhand manner. She shakes her head, ridding the thought before walking in.

            Most of the group is scattered around the living area, doing various things. Tzuyu’s stationed at the stove with Momo, who’s clinging to her girlfriend’s back like a koala. Jeongyeon’s on her laptop, presumably working while Nayeon’s attention is split between annoying her girlfriend and stroking the hair of a particular sleepy music teacher. Mina and Chaeyoung are cozy on the couch, talking softly to each other and nearly cuddled up together with the least amount of skin contact Dahyun’s ever seen. Someone’s missing though, and she can’t help but wonder.

            “Where’s Sana?” she asks. Everyone greets her at the sound of her voice, but Momo’s the only one who answers.

            “Still sleeping,” she says. She giggles, hiding her face in Tzuyu’s back before saying, “I think Tzu and I tired her out last night."

            Dahyun absently wonders what she means by that when they smack Momo on the top of her head, giving her an apologetic look as their girlfriend smiles sheepishly. By then it only takes a few seconds for her to realize, and she can feel the blush coming into her cheeks. She’ll never get used to the trio’s flippancy when it comes to their sex life.

            “Hey Kim, what happened to your face?” Jeongyeon calls. At first she panics, thinking that she’s talking about her sudden flush before she remembers the events of this morning and glares at Chaeyoung. She doesn’t answer, instead choosing to sit on the floor at Jihyo’s feet and scroll through Twitter. Jihyo ruffles her hair lovingly.

            Not long after that the pair in the kitchen come to join the group, Tzuyu sitting on the couch and dragging Momo into their lap. Nayeon looks up when they do, scans the room only to see everyone in their own world. “So I’m going to assume we’re not just going to sit here all day,” she says, “do we have a plan?”

            Tzuyu shrugs. “Not really. We were going to go to Rule 3*, but the place is closed since the snow is worse down there."

            “How much worse?”

            “Near blizzard.”

            Mina sighs. “Well if we can’t go anywhere because of the snow then this is going to be a lame birthday.”

            Dahyun spaces out of the conversation as her mind goes to work. No matter her relationship to the girl, her attraction to Sana (and the rest of the trio by extension) makes her dread to disappoint them, or just simply see them disappointed. A lightbulb goes off just as Jihyo nudges her with her foot and leans down to whisper in her ear. Dahyun lights up and raises her hand like she’s in class, which makes Chaeyoung snicker.

             “Actually,” she says, “I have an idea.”

Chapter Text

      Sana loves her birthdays. Good memories were always made on that day, whether it was from the food or her family and friends. Her family had a simple, but effective routine. Her parents would wake her up with waffles, they would spend the day together at some park or venue with friends, and then return home to cake and ice cream. It seems juvenile now, but she was never disappointed with the events that took place. Somehow they always seemed to make it special.

      There was a stretch of time where her birthday was just…lackluster, not for the fault of others but simply because of her mood about it, and the events that were taking place at the time. Through each year, Momo was always there (Mina was too of course, but she wasn’t there from what seems like birth and Mina isn’t the face she wakes up to every morning), but they had a dynamic that would push and pull their moods no matter what was going on outside of their own little bubble. When one wasn’t happy, the other wasn’t either.

      Now her birthdays are okay again, and she wakes up to some of the best tasting food and the two most beautiful faces on the planet (no matter how jealous she gets of Jihyo sometimes, she’ll always be thankful for her teaching Tzuyu how to cook.) As time went on and more people came to surround her, she’s learned to split her time between her family, her friends, and her lovers. The day before, her friends get the morning and her family gets the evening. The day of, the order is switched, and the day after is solely reserved for her and her girlfriends, and whatever mess they get into.

      So she wakes up with a groan on the day before, her bare body sore from the activities she partook in last night, smiling at the tremors she still feels as she stretches out across the bed. She’s cold though, unfortunately, both due to the weather outside and the lack of body heat around her. The sun is somehow dull and bright at the same time like it is in the early morning, tricking her into shifting over to Tzuyu’s side of the bed and snuggling Momo’s pillow, ready to drift back to sleep. Her girlfriends have other plans though, apparently.

      The door slowly creaks open as they tiptoe in, Momo carrying three forks and a glass of orange juice while Tzuyu balances the plates of waffles, eggs, and bacon effortlessly. The sound prompts Sana’s eyes to flutter open again, but she stays still. The pair set down the food as quietly as they can before facing each other, smiling mischievously before starting a heated game of rock paper scissors. She resists the urge to giggle when Tzuyu wins, causing their girlfriend to pout playfully as the youngest moves towards the bed. Her eyes shut again, feigning sleep as she feels the bed creak, another weight being added beside her. The sheets rustle as the weight moves closer, coming to a stop when Sana can feel a small, steady stream of air tickle her nose. She sniffles, and Tzuyu takes that as a sign to softly connect their lips.

       Sana’s eyes open as soon as they make contact, and Tzuyu chuckles against the other’s lips before pulling away.

       “You were awake this whole time weren’t you?” they say softly, stroking the bare skin of their lover’s hip before resting their hand there. Sana smiles innocently.

       “How could you tell?”

       “Is it my turn yet?” Momo whines, and they both laugh when she flops onto the bed as soon as they make space for her, curling up in the middle and sneaking kisses to both of their faces. Soon enough the food is ignored in favor of lazily exchanging kisses with each other, the intensity ranging from soft and simple to hot and heated. Sana makes a purr of approval as she feasts her eyes upon her girlfriends making out, watching as Momo sneaks a hand up Tzuyu’s shirt and scratches softly at the skin covering their ribs, drawing out a groan from the photographer.

       The dancer hears the sound behind her and turns, but not without nibbling at the youngest’s bottom lip. She connects with Sana almost immediately, their mouths moving against each other with an ebb and flow created only by years of practice.

       “Happy birthday baby,” she mutters against her lips, and Sana giggles.

       “It’s not my birthday yet,” she says back, and sighs softly when Momo moves to lick and suck at her pulse point.

       “Doesn’t matter.”

       Heat flows through her body as she feels teeth scrape across her neck. A vibration slips through her skin as Tzuyu rakes their hand through Momo’s hair, scratching at her scalp and grabbing at it every once in a while, the dancer moaning at their ministrations. Sana only protests when Momo makes room for Tzuyu to move closer, kissing down her body and stopping at the valley between her breasts.

       “Baby no,” she whines as Momo bites around her nipple, “I’m still sore.”

       “Hair of the dog babe, hair of the dog.” Tzuyu mutters as they takes their girlfriend’s place, attacking Sana’s neck only slightly more harshly. After a bit they pull back and admire their work with a smirk. Those are going to be hard to cover up.

       “Tha-that’s not how the expression go—oh…” she says, just as Momo makes her way down and finally meets her tongue to Sana’s clit. When Tzuyu connects their lips she can’t help but sigh into their mouth, trembling at the actions down below.

       She hopes no one’s waiting on them.

       “You know, I’m a bit disappointed that we couldn’t stay in bed all day,” Sana says as they make their way down to the building’s lobby. By the time they had finished their…activities, the food had been cold, but she enjoyed it nonetheless. Or maybe that was just because of the high she still had running through her body, enhanced by her daily dose of euphoria and the attention she’d received that morning. To say she was sated would be an understatement.

       “We would’ve had to get up anyways,” Tzuyu replies, honest as always. They catch Sana by the waist as the girl slips, saving her from a painful trip down the stairs. “Your parents are arriving at three, I think my family was coming at five, plus our friends are here anyways and had probably been waiting for a while.”

       “Ugh, you’re such a downer,” Momo complains, and Tzuyu shoots her a look.

       “I prefer realist.”

       Their banter, while amusing, could get a bit aggravating at times. It continues all the way until they get to the front door, Sana clasping her hands over both of their mouths. She yelps when Momo licks it, but it’s effective, shutting them up as they make their way out of the building. Her girlfriends take her hands and begin to lead her to wherever it is they’re going.

       “Tzu’s right, we couldn’t stay in bed forever,” she says, and giggles as a thought appears in her mind. “My body wouldn’t have been able to take it.” They both blush and look away, causing more laughter to bubble up inside of her. ‘Funny how they can be so bold in bed but so shy out of it,’ she thinks, humming happily when she sticks her tongue out and a snowflake falls on top of it. The icy sidewalk takes action against her, making her slip and lose her balance until Momo steadies her. She smiles graciously at her girlfriend before they both laugh heartily, turning to see Tzuyu glaring at the sidewalk like it personally offended them.

        No more incidents occur until they reach the park, covered in snow and frost and looking all too much like a winter wonderland. Sana gasps when she sees it all, including the walls of snow that had been created on each side of the field and scattered in between. Her girlfriends peck her cheek before vanishing, but not without shouting a final “happy birthday” behind them. She looks around in confusion when they literally appear to have disappeared (a difficult feat, since Momo’s not very good at hiding in the first place and Tzuyu’s the biggest of them all.)

        Confusion, until something cold, hard, and wet hits her on the cheek.

        She whips her head to the left where it came from, only to see Jeongyeon poking out from behind a barrier with an innocent smile on her face. That smile quickly transforms into a look of fear when Sana bends down, forming the biggest snowball she can make in her hands. She almost launches it at the blue haired girl before she hears someone call her name, and turns to see Jihyo waving her over from behind another barrier.

        “What took you guys so long? It’s freezing out here,” Chaeyoung says when she reaches them. Sana stays silent, and the look on her face tells Jihyo enough. She shakes her head. “Nevermind that, you’re on our team."

        “Team?"

        “Yeah, it’s a snowball fight. You, me, and Chaeng are on one team; Jeong, Dahyun, and Tzuyu are on another; and then Mina, Momo, and Nayeon are on the other one. There aren’t any rules really, except for no friendly fire, and if someone looks like they’re hurt then the game stops.” Sana listens intently, nodding along before she furrows her brow.

        “What if someone gets used as a human shield?” she asks. Jihyo blinks.

        “I’m surprised you know what that means.”

        “SNOWBALL FIGHT!” Chaeyoung screeches, causing the older two to wince and cover their ears. Only seconds of peace lasted before all hell breaks loose.

        Soon enough, another snowball is launched and hits the barrier, making snow pour down onto the trio’s heads. Jihyo and Sana quickly retaliate, catching Jeongyeon twice in the stomach before she can duck back down to safety. They cheer and high five before moving on.

        A sneak attack from Nayeon hits Chaeyoung in the leg as they make their way across the field, making her fall to her knees dramatically while her teammates raced past. Mina, ever so kind, was conflicted between helping her not-lover and helping her team. It made her an easy target, allowing Sana to cruise by with a quick hit to her chest on the teacher’s way to another barrier. For a second she sits back and watches the chaos, laughing as Nayeon and Jeongyeon seem to noogie Jihyo with snow and wincing when Tzuyu gets a hard hit to the back of the head.

        She hears a quick “I love you,” shouted in her direction, and is only halfway turned around when a snowball hits her on her neck, right beneath her jawline. Momo smiles cheesily as Sana glares, sprinting away when her girlfriend comes after her, snowball in hand.

        They run for a bit before the younger eventually catches up, grabbing Momo by the waist and hitting her in the same spot. She then smirks mischievously, reaching down for more ammo before proceeding to dump some snow down her girlfriend’s top. Momo can only shiver as she’s taunted, the cold settling into her clothes and skin before she can even recognize it. Sana takes pity and caresses her cheeks, setting a quick kiss on her lips.

         “The-there better b-be a hot bath after all th-this,” she says shakily, teeth chattering. Sana pecks her again before speaking.

         “Oh absolutely.”

         She gets hit in the back and turns, only to see Chaeyoung and Mina with snowballs in their hands. “Hey lovebirds!” Chaeng shouts. “Kind of the wrong time for this, don’t you think?”

         Sana glares as she prepares another projectile. She cocks her arm, remembers the rule against friendly fire, and promptly hits Mina square in the chest. Before they can retaliate, the couple scatters.

         The fight carries on for what seems like hours, and by then everyone has melted snow on at least one part of their person. Some families walking by have kids that seem like they want to join in, but it doesn’t take long until someone’s hit in the face and their parents have to steer them away.

         Sana’s in the midst of it all, shivering after a hit from Jeongyeon that struck her nape and slid down her back. Just as she turns and fires with all of her strength, her target moves out of the way and reveals an unassuming Dahyun, the only person she's managed to not hit.

         The events afterword seem to happen in slow motion.

         The snowball strikes Dahyun right in the middle of her forehead, a yelp erupting from her mouth as she falls back into the cushion of snow. At first Sana laughs, but her laughter trails off when she notices that the pale girl doesn’t get back up.

         “Stop! Stop the game!” she shouts, rushing over to her victim’s side. Everyone freezes, and their positions would be humorous if not for current events.

         She falls to her knees by Dahyun’s side, cradling her head in her lap before brushing the snow off of her face and checking her pulse (a bit overdramatic probably, but it’s not a bad thing to take precautions.)

         “Dahyunnie? Dahyun?” She lightly smacks the pale girl’s cheeks to no avail before whispering a quick “sorry” and slapping her across the face.

         Dahyun groans as her eyes flutter open, bringing her hand up to run across her face. Sana shouts in joy before leaning over her.

         “Are you okay?” Dahyun doesn’t respond, blinking rapidly as her eyes take in her surroundings, coming to a halt on Sana’s face.

         “A-are you an angel?” she asks with hooded lids. Sana giggles.

         “No, fortunately I’m not.” Dahyun looks to say something else when she notices the others coming forward. This snaps her out of her daze until Sana leans forward, softly placing her lips on her forehead. The pale girl blushes almost immediately, her body warming in contrast to the cold bed beneath her. Sana frowns.

         “You’re really really hot. Are you okay?”

         “Uhhhh…”

         Chaeyoung reaches them and kneels beside Sana just as Dahyun averts her gaze, slamming her fists on her friend’s stomach. “I’m sorry my friend, I should have protected you,” she cries dramatically, causing Dahyun to roll her eyes. “I have failed you.”

         She brushes them off and sits up with Sana’s assistance. “I’m fine Chaeng, it was just a hard hit.” She glances around at her friends, all waiting expectantly. “But uh, on that note, I think we’re done here.”

         Everyone mumbles thankfully as they rise up and start making their way back to the trio’s apartment, save for Chaeyoung, Momo, and Tzuyu, who are waiting for their friend and girlfriend respectively. Just as Dahyun starts to walk again, Sana grasps her wrist. “Are you sure you’re okay?” she asks softly. Dahyun gulps and nods, speeding away when she starts to feel her face heat up again.

         (They catch each other again as the pale girl waits for her roommate in the lobby, noodling on the grand piano that sits there. Sana watches for a bit before she approaches, the music calming her and settling into her mind. She doesn’t want to take too long, her girlfriends are waiting on her, but she needs to check on one thing before anything else.

         “I didn’t know you played,” she says, resting a hand on Dahyun’s shoulder. Dahyun jumps and stops abruptly, turning to the teacher with wide eyes. Sana frowns. “No, it was good, keep going.” At the prompting, she starts again, scooting over to make room for Sana on the bench.

         “Yeah, just a little,” she answers modestly a few seconds later. The notes seem to pick up speed, not as slow and melodic as before, but not as rigorous as you would see a professional play.

         “A little? What I heard did not come from someone who simply dabbles in piano. What was that, Beethoven? Mozart?”

         Dahyun flushes red all over again, imitating a paler version of the berries that decorate a nearby wreath. “Actually um,” she stutters, “that’s something I made myself.” She tips her head down bashfully, focusing on the keys.

         Sana places a finger under her chin and lightly tips her head up. “Look at me,” she says, and Dahyun shyly raises her gaze to look her in the eye.

         “You’re amazing.”

         Dahyun stares into her eyes a bit too long, and there’s a glint in them that Sana’s seen many times before. She sees it in the morning when she wakes up, and when she cuddles up to her girlfriends sleepily in the mid-afternoon. She sees it when they visit her in the classroom and see how she interacts with the kids, and she’s singing loudly and dancing around the apartment when she thinks no one’s around. She sees it when it’s late at night and she needs validation, or any one of them has a nightmare at three am. She sees it in her own eyes, all of the time.

         But before she can question it, Chaeyoung calls her roommate over to go home. The music stops.)         

         That look stays in her mind for the rest of the day after that, making her drift away at any moment in a way that’s not unlike her, but somehow is at the same time. Part of her feels guilty as her mind wanders, especially at a time like this, where she should be nowhere but the present.

          If possible, her head sinks back even further into Momo’s chest while they're in the bathtub, her hands clawing softly down Tzuyu’s back in front of her. She focuses in, admiring the way that the youngest’s skin stretches across their shoulder blades, how broad shoulders transition into toned, muscly arms.

          Sana never misses an opportunity to admire her girlfriends’ bodies, to run her hands over them and kiss them and nip at them. They’re both toned all over, from arms to abs to legs. Her favorite times to watch are when both of them are working out, either in the living room or when the trio are alone in their building’s gym. When she’ll kneel between their legs as they do sit ups, or move her mouth along their stomachs as they use the machines. When she’ll make them moan as she massages their sore muscles. (Or her personal favorite, when she grinds on their abs while they bench, whining and whimpering in need. There’s never been a time when she did that and it hasn’t resulted in the greatest thing; where they take her hard and quick in the locker room, whispering the dirtiest things in her ear and making it so that her thighs are sticky and she can’t walk correctly.)

          Sometimes the competitiveness between her girlfriends is fruitful, leading to flexing competitions and tests of athleticism at the most random times (both of those which Sana enjoys immensely.) It’s hard to tell which of them is the strongest, considering that they can both pick her up with ease (and the sofa with only mild complaining, very helpful when she’s vacuuming.) Their hard work shows itself in different ways, with Tzuyu’s natural broadness and muscle making it so that they’re more toned on the top half while Momo’s leaner because of her dancing, making it more evenly spread.

          Sana’s brought out her musings when a weight lifts itself on her shoulders.

          She opens her eyes to see Tzuyu turned around, staring at her intently with their wide, dark eyes.

          “You stopped scratching,” they say as an explanation. “Are you okay? You’ve been spaced out since the others left."

          Sana shakes her head. “I’m fine. Turn around again, I like your shoulders.” At this Momo sighs from behind her, shifting Sana in the tub so that they could all look into each other’s eyes.

          “Are you sure you’re okay?” The dancer asks. “You know you can tell us anything.” Both of them look at her with soft gazes, and the glint that serves to remind her of what’s been on her mind. She sighs. Might as well tell them.

          “I think…I think Dahyun has a crush on us,” she says slowly, “o-or at least me.” When she finishes, Momo gets a strange look on her face while Tzuyu furrows their brow.

          “Dahyun? What makes you say that?” They ask. Sana sighs again.

          “We were talking earlier, and she had this look in her eye. It was the look that you two always give me, or at least a weaker version of it.”

          Before Tzuyu can say something else, Momo speaks up. “That…actually makes sense.” Her girlfriends look at her in confusion. “I swore I wouldn’t say anything, but when we had the girls over a few weeks ago, she said that she accidentally imagined us—erm—doing it. That’s what we were talking about in the bathroom.”

          They all stay silent for a while, taking it in as water drips from the tap and the clock ticks. “Do you like her back?” Tzuyu asks, interrupting the silence. With the question they curl in on themselves, head falling down until their nose touches the water. Sana lifts a hand up and strokes their cheek softly, rubbing shapes into it with her thumb.

          “I-I don’t know. I don’t think so. Maybe it’s just a You Situation.”

          Momo scoffs. “It’s hardly a Tzuyu Situation. You had a crush on them first, and they were added when the feelings were mutual between all three of us. Dahyun’s not the object of any of our affections—”

          “And if she were to be? Hm?” Sana asks. Tzuyu raises their head, leaning into Sana’s touch and pressing kisses to the palm of her hand.

          “She has a point, Mo. You didn’t like me at first either—hell you nearly hated me—but as time went on that changed. We don’t know how we could feel about Dahyun days, or weeks, or months from now.”

          Momo grumbles. She knows that her girlfriends are right. “So what, you’re saying we court her?”

          “I’m saying that we give it some more time,” Sana says. “And if feelings end up changing, then we’ll cross that bridge when we come to it."

Chapter Text

     In the silence (or whatever relative silence they can get in this apartment), Tzuyu contemplates things. They contemplate about life, about love, about their own events that occurred and how different everything would be if those events didn’t.

     Sometimes, only a few times, they wish that things would be different—could have happened differently. It’s not an easy thought to get out of their head, but it’s made easier when they think about everything that they would lose if things had changed. They would have never met Jihyo, or Sana or Momo. They wouldn’t have met the rest of their little group, or probably have the job that they have now. Life is a balance, their father would say, it is filled with fortunacies and unfortunacies. Sometimes it is easy to know which one is which, and sometimes…sometimes it is not.

    They do most of their thinking in the dead of night, before even the bugs and birds wake. It used to be a concern, when they first started their thing with Sana and Momo, and the two Japanese would wake up with their partner nowhere to be found. It happens less often now, but when it does…they don’t need to know. If they did know they would be more concerned, since Tzuyu’s hot spots are the rooftop, the balcony, and aimlessly strolling the streets of Seoul.

    Tzuyu is intelligent, their girlfriends know that, and they know that intelligent people think a lot. They aren’t included in the knowledge, however, that intelligent people are the real airheads. That only a small section of their mind holds what they need to be smart, to be creative, to be a person, and that the rest of it is a mass of space, stray thoughts floating through every second they can. Some of those thoughts are harmful, some are not. Tzuyu’s thoughts tend to be existential (the best kind, if you ask them.) They’re the thoughts that they ask their professors about, to no avail, unfortunately. They’ve taken a few philosophy classes, some psychology classes, and yet none of them have been able to explain why those thoughts rest in their head.

     Sometimes they think they might be a robot, but that’s impossible. Robots don’t have feelings (and definitely not strong feelings like they do; elation, arousal, depression, love.) That also goes into dehumanization (they saw a post once about the dehumanization of non-binary people, it sounded accurate.) Sometimes they’re scared (they don’t know if that’s a good thing yet), and that fear turns into thoughts and those thoughts lead to the nights on the roof. Roof nights aren’t fun, they’ve decided, and neither is wondering if you’re good enough for the two beauties resting naked in bed beside you.

     It’s been happening more often now, as it gets around that time of year. With only their friends and their lovers around, they feel freer, happier, less restrained. But as the months roll around and time comes for people to celebrate with family and friends, family especially…the blank space opens up again, and it’s suffocating.

     But that’s not the point, not today. Today they are preparing for lunch, the lunch that they’ll have with Sana’s parents, and their own family (who have decided to extend their stay for a day or two more). Tonight, they’ll be surrounded by friends who love them and friends who encourage them, and will have the pleasant buzz of alcohol to close the mass of space up, at least for a moment.

     And right now, right now it’s two am, and Tzuyu’s sneaking out of bed to pull on joggers and an oversized EXO tee from their brother. But not before pulling on a binder, another pile to add on to the confliction in their mind. Right now they’re debating whether or not to bring a jacket or to let the cold numb their body in a frail hope to numb their mind, when a small groan brings their attention to the bed. It’s Sana, unconsciously disagreeing with the lack of warmth that used to be underneath her. They watch with a smile as she rolls, throwing her arms and legs over Momo’s body before drifting off again to a blissful slumber. They grab their phone, their wallet, and set a timer for five am before walking out the door.

     Right now, they pretend there’s nothing to be concerned about.

     The next morning (or same morning, however you see it), Tzuyu can be found cooking peacefully in the kitchen, humming along to whatever song was playing on the radio.

     They hear a lot of things, both a blessing and a curse from childhood, so it’s no surprise that they hear their girlfriends whispering from the entrance to their bedroom. They pretend that they didn’t hear, instead stretching upwards until they can feel their stomach tighten and their shoulders pop. The whispering doesn’t fade away though. If anything it becomes more obvious, their ears naturally tuning in now that they’re aware of it.

      “I can hear you two, y’know,” they say, and the whispering stops. They don’t turn as footsteps move closer, definitely not as arms wrap around their waist and a head burrows itself between their shoulder blades. It’s gotten to the point where they don’t have to.

      “I’m sorry baby, you know we’re just worried,” Sana says, muffled against her girlfriend’s shirt. Momo hums in agreement from her position, having moved to lean against the counter to Tzuyu’s left. The tall one sighs.

      “I know,” they say simply. The atmosphere doesn’t calm like it should. It gets thicker, unspoken words and silence clogging up the air until it’s nearly suffocating. They hate having to feel like this, with all of the doubt and the depression, and the uncertainty. Soon the food is abandoned, the stove turned off and the trio drifting to the sofa. Tzuyu finds themself sprawled across their girlfriends’ laps, with Momo running a hand through their hair and Sana tracing shapes on their abs. They absently recognize the ticklish feeling, but it’s drowned out by thought.

      “Are you okay?” Momo asks.

      I’m broken, I’m too complicated, there’s something wrong with me, why are you here, leave me alone, I don’t want to talk, leave me alone, please help me, leave me alone, I don’t feel right please help, Leave Me Alone.

      They sniffle. “I’m fine.”

      Sana frowns. “You sure? Usually you’re not up and dressed this early.”

      “Well technically I’m not dressed, but I can’t just walk around the apartment naked.”

      Both Japanese smirk, doing that weird thing where they speak at the same time. “I mean you could.”

      Tzuyu inhales, just barely exhales. “No I couldn’t."

      Their words make Sana frown again, more or less like a sad puppy that sees that their owner’s upset. She lifts their shirt, leans down to press little kisses and blow raspberries on their abs in a way that’s sure to make them giggle. Momo brushes their hair away, placing a kiss on their forehead with a whisper.

      “Our handsome baby,” she says, and they smile. Tzuyu sits up, only kissing Sana’s cheek before the teacher turns her head and captures their lips. A second later, two pairs of hands attack them from both sides, tickling their torso. They giggle against their girlfriend’s lips, releases a small noise of pleasure as Momo’s trail up and down their neck.

      "What about breakfast?” They ask between kisses. Sana pulls back and smirks.

      “What about it? We have breakfast right here.”

      It’s then that Momo deems it her turn, pulling them into a kiss before situating herself, straddling their thighs. Sana sits behind her, leaving soft kisses at her nape and running blunt nails over the dancer’s abs. Momo groans, asking “On or off?” into their mouth.

      “On.”

      She removes their shirt, keeps on the binder, placing her hands at their hips and running her thumbs over their defined v-line (something she was very envious of, to their amusement.) The three of them fall into each other for a good hour, moans, giggles, and sounds of all kinds bouncing off of the walls of their apartment. It’s only after it all, when they’re all soft and sated in bed that they feel marginally better. Their girlfriends are a small, yet effective distraction, like a large wall in the middle of the absent space of flowing thoughts. Some make their way around, but most don’t, and it’s the small blessing that allows them to focus, finally. It’s the neutral ground.

      Their arms wrap around their girls, Momo dozing softly on their chest while Sana’s tracing patterns on their collarbone. The teacher glances up and looks into their eyes, staring up at the ceiling glassy and unfocused. Their pupils dart around, looking at everything but looking at nothing. “Hey,” she says softly. Their attention flickers down. “You okay?”

      They smile with their best effort, but what’s on the outside doesn’t necessarily reflect how much effort they put in. It’s not bad, or as bad as you think. They’re disengaged, a bit absent, vaguely aware of the clock and their surroundings, just barely recognizing their name and their age and everything else deemed important. Not an absence of thought, but not overwhelming thoughts either, most likely caused by comfortability and the stress they just relieved (if they were a chemist they would blame it on more chemical things: serotonin, dopamine. Since they were not, call it happiness.)

      “I’m fine,” they say, “I’m good.” Sana boops their nose.

      “Liar.” Tzuyu raises a brow. Their girlfriend leans up, careful not to disturb Momo, and starts placing kisses all over their face.

      “You are beautiful,” she says between each one, “and handsome, and modest, and kind, and caring, and smart, and anything else you need to hear. You are all of those.”

      Tzuyu giggles as she presses another kiss to their cheek, to their jaw, to the spot just above their eyebrow. “Why are you telling me this?”

      “Because it’s the truth,” Sana says softly, and pulls away. Tzuyu admires her, inside and out, viewing her beauty that’s outlined by the late morning sun and her soul, visible through her eyes to only the most observant. No, not observant—worthy. Even if they don’t feel like it, by god they’re glad they’re worthy.

      “I love you,” they whisper. “I love you both, so much.”

      “We love you too,” they both say (even Momo, drowsy and barely conscious. Knowing her she heard the whole conversation.) Sana falls back down to the bed, her breathing evening out only moments later. Tzuyu sighs, sets the alarm for an hour or two, and closes their eyes.

      “Why did we have to go to a fancy restaurant, we could’ve just stayed home,” Tzuyu grumbles, fixing their tie. “I could have cooked.”

      “It’s not that fancy Tzu, we’ve been here before.” Momo checks herself over, brushing down her skirt before moving over. “Here let me help.”

      “If it’s a date restaurant, then it’s fancy in my eyes.”

      “So McDonalds is fancy then?” Sana asks. Tzuyu stays silent, glancing down. “That’s what I thought.” Her girlfriend doesn’t speak again, scuffing their feet on the concrete. Sana furrows her eyebrows before approaching them.

      “We can do this another day, I know you aren’t feeling well.” At this Tzuyu lifts their head, eyes widening. “My parents aren’t leaving for the next couple of d—”

      “No no, it’s fine. Come on, I think they’re waiting.”

      With that they gently brush the dancer’s hands away and stalk off towards the door, holding it open. Their girlfriends exchange glances and shrug, entering the restaurant.

      The three of them make their greetings simply, Tzuyu pleasantly surprised when both the Minatozaki’s go in for hugs instead of the formal handshake. It expresses a familiarity, a sort of kinship, especially when Sana’s father pulls them in by the hand like their brother does. They don’t mention their apparent lack of chest, don’t stare for long, doesn’t question why their daughter’s partner is dressed quite boyishly. Tzuyu feels their mother’s eyes on them though, looking them over and stopping at the spot where their breasts should be. They try to ignore it, instead focusing on Sana’s hand in their and the way her parents fawn over the three of them, but it’s hard to ignore the feel of being watched.

      “Your hair is so pretty!” Sana’s mother exclaims, running her hand through it once more before taking her seat. They’d left it down, flowing down their back. Tzuyu blushes, ducking their head with a small “thank you”. “Do you do anything to it?”

      “Uh, other than washing it no. But these two love to touch it for some reason.” As if to prove their point, Momo fixes her attention on a stray strand, twirling it around her finger before returning it over their shoulder. “Thank you, Mrs. Minatozaki."

      “Dear, I thought I told you to call me Mom."

      They start to blush again. “Of course.”

      “How are you, sweetie,” their own mother asks, just as the waiter arrives. He takes their orders quickly, scribbling it down before nodding and walking away. Their girlfriends glance at them when they order less food than usual, concerned looks on their faces. Tzuyu only shakes their head, mouthing a small ‘Not hungry.’ Sana’s hand finds their thigh under the table, Momo scoots slightly closer to hold hands.

      “Could be better, but I’m okay.”

      “What have those two done now?” Sana’s father asks in faux seriousness. His words draw laughs from around the table as Momo pouts and Sana whines. Their mother asks the same question to them as well, getting more positive responses in return. The conversation turns more comfortable, straying away from feelings (cause those are messy and have no place at a time like this) and turning towards actions. Sana talks about her students, Momo describes the new routine she’s teaching, Jackson brags about his new promotion, Sana’s parents complain about being empty nesters (starts talking about grandchildren—god was that part uncomfortable.) Their mother stays mostly silent throughout it all, only inputting where she saw fit (a trait they got from her, they suppose.) The food arrives.

      “I’m afraid no grandkids anytime soon, Mr. Minatozaki. I’m only twenty-two after all,” they say, giving a small smile at the way Sana’s mother faux pouts, oh so similar to her daughter. “I still need to graduate, get a stable job, grow up a bit more, y’know? Not to mention the finer details—whether we adopt or not, who will carry if not, definitely talking about if we’re going to have to move or not.” They don’t mention the more important details—if something happens, if something goes wrong, if one of them just don’t want children (the catalyst: if they break up. It has only been what, seven months? Eight? They’re sure Sana and Momo can carry on without them.)

      “You don’t stop thinking, do you? Some things never change, Zi Yu.” Their brother says, and continues eating like nothing happened. Tzuyu tenses under the table, feels Momo grip their hand tighter and Sana start stroking their thigh with her thumb, holds their breath. Not this again.

      “We’ve talked about this Jackson,” they say. Jackson looks up from his meal with a furrowed brow.

      “Yeah, you said you didn’t care.”

      “About my gender, brother, not about my name.” Jackson has his thinking face on for a bit, tilts his head. He seems to come to a consensus seconds later, nodding.

      “Ok, got it. Sorry sis.” Tzuyu releases their breath and smiles.

      “It’s fine Jackson."

      “And what is the difference?” Their mother asks (well, more like snaps.) Everyone turns their head to her, and they can tell how a certain frustration’s built itself up, evident on her face. Them and their brother both. He stutters out a “mom”, reaching out to try and diffuse her before anything drastic occurs. Unfortunately, Sana speaks first. Tzuyu loves their girlfriend, they do, but sometimes she doesn’t know how to read the situation.

      “Excuse me?” The teacher says, automatically defensive. Tzuyu tenses again, preparing themself for the confrontation that’s to come. They hate confrontation.

      “It’s a simple question. In the middle school you said that you want to be called Tzuyu, that’s fine. You said you wanted to be a girl, and that’s completely fine. We spent the money, you got the surgeries, and you were happy, weren’t you? And now what, you’re not? You’re regretting it?”

      She speaks loudly, too loudly, her feelings affecting the volume of her words. Momo notices other tables glancing at them and glares at their mother. “I think you’re overstepping,” she says sternly. Their mother scoffs.

      “I am her mother,” Tzuyu flinches, “I can step wherever I want.” They feel their girlfriends clutching tighter and wants to say something, anything. To defend themself, to thank them. To stop this. “If anything, it’s you two who should stay out of it.”

      “You don’t live with them anymore, you don’t know what goes on; we do.” The dancer growls. She takes note of the curious eyes around them before continuing. “If you want to have this conversation, I’m sure we can do it later, but now is neither the time nor place.”

      Tzuyu’s mother seems to ignore the latter part of her statement, continuing on with her tirade. “Oh really? And what does go on? What goes on that you want all the parts of a real woman, and then just suddenly say that you don’t care anymore? How can you ask for breasts and then show up somewhere with a chest as flat as your brother’s? Do you regret the surgeries? Do you want to be a man again? What is it?” Tzuyu flinches again, hanging their head and hunching their shoulders. Their mother snaps, instinct causing them to lift their head again. “Look me in the eye, child. Don’t hide behind others, speak for yourself. How about you make yourself right instead of depending on those two to do it for you?”

      Tzuyu stays silent, staring into their mother’s eyes like she asked. They open their mouth, but words don’t come out. Instead is a flood of thoughts pouring down on them. Conflicted. Useless. Helpless. Coward.

      “Is your tongue not working? Answer me!” Their mother freezes with a sense of realization, tilts her head and says with a finality, “or are you not sure?”

      “I think that’s enough,” Mr. Minatozaki says. Their table is quiet. Any other sounds are muffled to Tzuyu’s ears. They’re in tuned to themself, aware of how their body sways lightly while sitting in the chair, feels their heartbeat in their ears. Momo and Sana open their mouths when they scoot their chair back, standing.

      “Excuse me,” they say, and walk slowly, calmly to the bathroom. Thank god it’s a single.

      Everything breaks.

      Tzuyu collapses as soon as the door shuts, falling against the wall and sliding down until they sit, back hunched and head in their hands. They can feel every tremor that runs through their body, are bitterly aware of the burn behind their eyes. Breathing is hard, every shaky exhale bouncing of the walls more than enough for them to realize how pathetic they look. They loosen the tie around their neck, unbuttons the top three buttons as if it’ll do something to help them breathe. They roughly run their hands through their hair, knocking it back as they start to scratch at their exposed forearms, painting long lines of white along the inside.

      The thoughts pound at their head, as if they’ll crack their skull open and pour out any second now. Coward. Indecisive. Fake. There’s not a feeling that could describe it, they don’t think, nothing could describe belittling yourself. ‘Beautiful, kind, modest,’ they think, try to remind themself. Ugly. Broken. Rude. Liar, is repeated back. No, there’s no feeling that can describe your insides—your mind, your very psyche trying to tear each other apart. Nothing that could express it except to project it outward. They scratch faster, a hand coming up to claw at the back of their neck.

       Someone knocks.

       “Occupied!” They say. Their voice cracks. The handle jiggles, the door opens slightly and fuck they forgot to lock it.

       It’s Mrs. Minatozaki.

       Tzuyu sniffles, wipes their eyes despite the lack of tears. “And here I thought Sana would’ve come in,” they say with a small chuckle. Her mother looks at them with warm eyes.

       “Trust me, she wanted to.” They share a laugh at that, before she asks, “Why Sana in particular?”

       “Easy. Momo would be out there trying to fight my mother, because that’s what she does. She’s the fighter, Sana’s the comforter.” They laugh bitterly, lifting their eyes up to stare at the ceiling. “And what do I do?”

       Sana’s mother sits with them on the floor, a fact that they wince on because she’s wearing a beautiful white dress, one that’ll be messed up by the dirty bathroom floor (It’s annoyingly obvious that she’ll ruin the dress because of them, because they had to have a fucking meltdown in the middle of a restaurant just cause they got called out on their shit. God they ruined dinner stupid stupid stupid stu-.)

       “I know you think otherwise but you’re a very important part in that relationship.”

       Burden works its way into their mind , and it’s another bitter laugh that escapes before they respond. “No offense Mrs. Minatozaki,” they pause at her glare, “Mom, but you saw what happened out there. I don’t do shit in that relationship. I hide, is what I do; and it’s not even about the relationship half the time it’s so much more than that.”

        “Like what?”

        “Like the fact that my mother’s right.” At that Sana’s mother blinks, sits back instead of leaning forward with calm eyes. She’s listening. “I’m a mess. God I can’t take confrontation without panicking about it, can’t even fucking defend myself, much less other people. I can’t give a reason as to why I went through all the surgeries and took the drugs and went through all this absolute shit just to feel like myself and now what? I wear a binder and wear boy clothes and for what? Who am I trying to be why am I like this, d-do I just make it harder for myself? I—” They pause, gasp in a breath as the burning behind their eyes returns. “God, everything would be so much easier if I didn’t make it so difficult for myself with the pronouns and the gender and the clothes and everything.” A whimper. A sob. More burning. “If I were less of a burden. If I was normal.”

     Ms. Minatozaki gets a strange look on her face before scooting forward, opening her arms, the question unspoken. Tzuyu nods and she wraps around them, rubbing their back and coaxing their head onto her shoulder.

     “They think I can’t see it, Momo and Sana, but I do. They have to watch themselves every day with me and I hate it. They catch their words in case I’ll get offended, whisper about how to deal with me on bad days—which might as well be every other day. They wouldn’t have to tiptoe so much if I were normal. They could live freer without me at all.” Tzuyu sniffles. “Much better.”

      “Can I speak now?” Tzuyu nods. “Good. Honey, what do I need to say to make you feel better?”

      They sniffle again, wipes away a stray tear that managed to escape. “Nothing. You shouldn’t tell me things just to make me feel better, that’s utter bullshit. It's a cop out.”

      “Great, so there’s no spots I need to hit. First off, you’re not a burden.” She feels Tzuyu inhale, hears the first syllable out of their mouth before she tuts. “No, it’s my turn now.”

      “Just because you don’t have an obvious role here doesn’t mean that you’re unnecessary, or that they would be better off without you, and just because some days you want to bind and some days you don’t doesn’t mean that you’re becoming someone you aren’t. That just means that that’s what you have to do to feel comfortable with yourself; it’s just unfortunate that your comfortable changes every once and a while. Nothing would be better if you were normal, because then you wouldn’t be you. You are perfect,” she says with an emphasis. Tzuyu hiccups. “It’s just that this is the hand of cards that fate has given you.”

      Tzuyu leans back from her hold, blinks rapidly and looks to the sky to try and stop the tears from falling. Ms. Minatozaki gazes at them softly, cupping their face with her hands. “Why aren’t you crying, child? Why stop something that will help the hurt?"

      “Strong people don’t cry,” they say, almost recite. “Especially at every hard thing that life hands to them. How could I prove that I can defend myself if I cry at every damn thing?”

      “There are other ways, baby, other ways. Look at me.” She brings their head down, staring straight into their eyes. “You don’t cry because you’re weak, you cry because you’re human. You cry because you’ve taken the hormones and girl hormones are terrible. You, in particular, cry out of frustration,” she says, poking them in the forehead. “And I’m not the one to say that you’re frustrated at the situation, or your mother, or at yourself; but I can say that keeping all of that in will tear away at you until you meltdown like a nuclear plant.”

      She shakes Tzuyu’s head a little, wipes away a tear as she caresses their cheek with her thumb. “Let it out.”

      It’s almost a scream of a sob that they release, using the hot tears running down their face and the way they clutch to Ms. Minatozaki almost to express everything that’s eating away at them. It’s still impossible to, really show every little thing that goes on inside their head, but it’s helpful. It’s nearly cleansing. The anger and the doubts and the deprecation flow through, coming out as liquid instead of words, and their pain cries into the open air and not the compressed space inside of them. It slows, little by little, as Sana’s mother strokes their hair and whispers little things in their ear.

      Their mind is always loud, too loud. It takes a while to realize that there’s something louder.                                                                                                                                                                                  

      (“Why didn’t you let me go?” Sana asks before her mother leaves, when everything is good and done, and they’re back at their apartment. Tzuyu sits with Momo back inside, barely observant in their exhaustion. Mrs. Minatozaki turns to her daughter with a sad smile.

      “Sana sweetie, you know that I love you, and I love Momo, and I’ve come to love Tzuyu as if you were all my children instead of just you. What they needed wasn’t kind words or soft touches from a lover, they needed reassurance. They needed a mother’s love, something different from what that woman seemed to give, if she can call it that.")

      Later that night (late night, by any indication from the high moon), a dial tone rings into the open air. It rings once, twice, before picking up.

      “Hello?” The voice says. It’s deep and gruff, yet clear, that of a man who’s been long awake with no intentions to sleep soon.

      “It’s me, Dad.”

      They hear an audible sigh over the receiver, an intake of breath. “Hi Tzuyu. Do you need anything?”

      They shrug even though he can’t see them, smiling sadly. “Nope, just checking in on you.”

      “Well I’m fine, thanks for asking.” A rustle of papers. “I-uh, I heard about what happened at lunch today.”

      “Oh really?” Their father hums in confirmation. “Did you hear about it from Mom, or from Jackson?”

      “Neither, actually. I don’t know how she did it, but your gir—one of your girlfriends’ mother’s managed to get my number.” Tzuyu catches the stutter, ignores the nagging at the back of their mind. ‘He’s trying,’ they think. He’ s not it says back.

      “That would be Sana’s mom, Dad.”

      “Yes well, very nice lady. Too bad she was calling me about how my wife made my daughter have a panic attack in the bathroom of a four star restaurant.” He pauses. “Daughter is okay, right? She gave a lot of details.”

      “It’s just fine Dad.”

      There’s a silence, only awkwardly interrupted by the slow, controlled breathing over the receiver. They’re sure it’s not any better on his side. “Look I—” he starts, pauses before starting again. “I’m sorry. For everything.”

      “It’s fine Dad.”

      “No it’s not. You can’t just say everything’s fine when it isn’t, Tzu, that’s why we’re in this situation to begin with.” He starts to raise his voice, and it’s almost as if he can feel their pulse raising across the phone. He sighs, speaking softly again. “I may be an old man who doesn’t understand a lot,” he says, gaining a chuckle from the other side, “but I understand that you feel how you feel, and that how you…express yourself is determined by whatever goes on in that crazy head of yours. I understand that there’s a lot that you don’t tell us, about what’s going on, how you’re feeling—hell, you didn’t tell us you were dating until three months into your relationship—”

      “And not that I was dating two people until six, yes Dad I know."

      “That’s the point Tzuyu and you know it,” he says sternly. They let him finish. “My point, I guess…is that I’m sorry. And I’m trying.”

      ‘I know you are,’ they think, but that’s not what comes out. Instead it’s “Is that why you didn’t come here?”

      Their father swallows. “What?”

      “Mom said that it’s because you had a lot of work, but I know that it’s because of the reason that we didn’t speak for a while.”

      “And that is?”

      “Because you were uncomfortable,” they say. Their father doesn’t protest, which is how they know that they’re right. “You were even uncomfortable with the trans thing, even though you tried to seem like you weren’t. You didn’t want to step on any toes, but you also didn’t see why there were any toes to be stepped on. And that’s okay."

      “No it’s not.”

      “Yes it is, because everyone needs an adjustment period, even to just waking up in the morning. Jackson’s was almost nonexistent, Mom’s seems to be coming in now, and yours was just extended. It’s starting to end now.”

      They say the words simply, reminiscent of an elementary schooler proving someone wrong. The finality that comes with it seems to stun their father, creating a bridge of silence between their words and his.

      “You really are my smartest child, you know that?” He says finally, and Tzuyu laughs. They laugh loud into the quiet night, triumphantly.

      “You tell me that all the time Dad.”

      “Obviously not enough, ‘cause you keep trying to show off.” They can almost see his wistful eyes through the phone, can almost feel his hand ruffling their hair playfully. “How did you get so wise?”

      They think on it for a moment before responding. “This life I live, the things I go through…it breeds patience,” they say. “It makes you think about things."

      “It breeds patience,” he repeats, slowly though, obviously ingesting the words. “Thank you, for being patient.”

      Tzuyu smiles softly. “Always.”

      They hang up soon after that, with small goodbyes and love you’s, the latter which makes them grin even wider. They sit for a bit, not minding the shivers that run through their body and the biting cold that nips at their skin. They pull out their phone, shooting a text to the groupchat that them and their girlfriends have about not being in bed in the morning (oh how Tzuyu hopes they get the message instead of panicking, especially with the post it note that they put on the door.)

      There’s one more thing to do.                                                                                    

     Jihyo rubs her eyes sleepily when she opens the door, blinking twice when she sees the person sitting in the hallway. She rubs her eyes again before narrowing them.

     “It’s 1am, why are you here?”

     Tzuyu smirks. “Because I knew you’d let me in.”

     The older woman opens her mouth to protest before closing it, sighing and opening the door further. “Come on, I’ll make us some tea.”

     The photographer grins impishly before waltzing in, landing on the couch as if it were the one in their home. Jihyo glances at them in her trip to the kitchen, smiling softly before shaking her head as she pulls two mugs out from the cabinet.

     “If you wanna talk make sure you’re quiet. Dahyun’s here.”

     Their eyes widen. “Dahyun’s here?”

      Jihyo shoots them the ‘did you not hear what I just said’ look. “Yeah, and she’s sleeping, so don’t be too loud.”

     The mention of the pale girl brings on memories from a conversation only days ago (feels shorter, to be honest. Or maybe they’re just living their life in slow motion.) They shake their head. ‘No, now’s not the time,’ they think, just as Jihyo returns with the tea.

     "Remember that thing we had?” They ask before taking a sip. Jihyo stills in her seat across from them, furrowing her brow before nodding. “That was good.”

     The singer tilts her head in question. “…Are you drunk?” Tzuyu laughs, hearty but hushed in courtesy.

     “No Ji, I’m not intoxicated in any way,” they say. Tzuyu sighs, taking another sip. They shrug. “Just…thinking about things.”

     “Do you regret it?” They shake their head.

     “No, but it could’ve ended differently. But maybe it was good, that it ended when it did.”

     “And why is that? I think we could’ve lasted longer.”

     “Nope,” they say, popping the p. Jihyo looks almost offended. “Not because of you. It’s just how things worked out. I would’ve told you about the whole trans thing anyway, or you would’ve found out, and either way you would’ve had a weird time with it. It was really just the intensity of the reveal there.”

     Jihyo sighs. “Yeah, probably could’ve reacted better to that. I didn’t need to freak out.”

     “It’s okay, you don’t have to apologize.”

     “Yes, I do,” she says. Her knuckles are pale around the mug, gripping it tightly. “I was insensitive, and I treated you badly, and I’m sorry.”

     “And I forgive you. I forgave you a long time ago.” They move over to her chair and sit on the armrest, gently sliding the mug out of her tense hands. “But I’m uh, beating around the bush.” Tzuyu sighs, looking Jihyo in the eyes as she gives them her full attention.

     “I think I need a therapist.”

     Jihyo snorts. “And? I’m a vocal teacher, I can’t help you with that.”

     They roll their eyes. “I’m being serious here, Ji.”

     “Well okay then, tell me what you want me to help with. And can you please sit back on the couch so that I don’t have to break my neck just to look at your face."

     They chuckle before sitting back where they were. “I guess I just need someone to talk to? Someone liberal, obviously, but there’s nothing else I need specifically. It’s just, uh,” they pause, fiddling with their fingers. “I’m not good with talking about things, especially pertaining to myself—”

     “Don’t I know it,” Jihyo scoffs. Tzuyu glares.

     “And I’ve realized that keeping all of that stuff in isn’t exactly…healthy.”

     “You’ve just now realized that?” she butts in again. Tzuyu glares harder, throwing a small decorative pebble in her direction. Jihyo narrowly dodges it, seeing their point. “Continue.”

     “I guess my point is that before thinking about future stuff—future plans, future things, future people,” they say as they spare a glance to Jihyo’s guest room. “I need to focus on fixing me, in the present.”

     The singer tilts her head, fixing them with a strange look. “I don’t think there’s anything that needs fixing, Tzuyu.”

     Well, maybe, maybe not. Do they need to fix their method of dealing with things? Absolutely. Fixing themself as a person…debatable. Becoming more self-dependent, more capable, that’s what they want. Honestly, anyone can say that they’re not a burden however many times they want, and they appreciate the effort, but it’s not going to stop the flow of harsh truths in the huge cavity of their mind. There is something to be fixed, even if they don’t know exactly what yet.

     “Can I sleep here?” They ask instead. Jihyo furrows her brow.

     “Aren’t your girlfriends gonna wonder where you are?”

     “I left a note, and sent a text.” Tzuyu pauses. “And hopefully I’ll be home before they wake up and start panicking.”

     Jihyo sighs, standing to clean up the mugs. “Fine. You know where the blankets are. Hopefully the couch isn’t too stiff.” Just as Tzuyu stands to set up their bed, she wraps them in an embrace, stretching on her tiptoes to press a kiss to their forehead. Tzuyu smiles softly.

     “Even after all of the nasty stuff, don’t forget that I still care about you,” she says, cupping their cheek. She pats it twice before leaving. “Now I’m going to get the sleep that you’ve deprived me of."

     “It’s only two am Ji, learn to live a little,” they say. She flips them off in return. Tzuyu grins.

     It’s difficult to sleep that night, in parts due to the uncomfortable couch but also because they’re not used to sleeping without a body or two next to them. But it’s necessary, they think, and temporary. It’s been one of those days, where their mind swarms with thoughts and they need to just…step away. To be fair, sleeping on their ex’s uncomfortable ass couch seems better than wandering the streets or freezing on top of the apartment building.

     So they pull off their binder (their girlfriends will be upset if their chest bruises), slip under the blankets, dreams that they’re in a perfect world where there’s nothing to be concerned about, dreams about life and love and a happy future.

     It works, mostly, because there’s less to be concerned about. They’re almost okay.      

Chapter Text

     Dahyun yawns as she walks out of Jihyo’s guest room, scratching her head and squinting at the bright lights coming from inside. She doesn’t see how Jihyo can be so cheery in the mornings, blinds open and wide smiles. But then again, she’s pretty sure Jihyo’s not entirely human.

     She hears a voice bouncing off the walls of the apartment, walking into the main area to see Jihyo sitting at her island with a phone in her hand and a small grin on her face. “Yeah, yeah, alright,” she says, nodding. She always does that, even if the other person can’t see her. “So tomorrow at Hani’s?” The caller must’ve confirmed it, because her grin grows wider. “Great, I’ll see you there. Looking forward to it. Mhm, bye.”

     Jihyo hangs up, placing the phone on the counter and sighing wistfully with her chin resting on her hand. Dahyun smirks mischievously, tiptoeing across the room to sneak up on her. Suddenly a stray leg is in her path, tripping her up and making her fall (loudly) to the floor. Jihyo jumps up, turning to her as Dahyun smiles sheepishly and the owner of the leg continues to snore on.

    The older woman sighs on her way over, helping Dahyun up with a laugh. “And I thought Sana was the clumsy one,” she says. Dahyun shrugs.

    “I have my moments.”

    She turns to the couch to face the culprit, only to still once she sees who it is. She blinks once, twice before turning back to her friend. Tzuyu’s lying sprawled out on the couch, their blanket falling halfway to the floor and dressed in only boxers and an oversized shirt. The collar sinks to their shoulder, showing off their sharp collarbones and revealing a small trail of fading bruises across. Not bruises, hickies. Dahyun swallows thickly at the thoughts they bring up, pushing down the imagery before speaking.

    “Hey Ji, why is Tzuyu on your couch?”

     Jihyo gazes down at them and smiles softly, walking back to the kitchen. “They came in last night, needed some time,” she says. She pauses. “I should probably wake them up though, Momo called me not too long ago.”

     Dahyun takes one last look at Tzuyu before shaking her head, following. “Is that who you were just on the phone with?” Jihyo blushes, ducking her head as she turns on the stove.

     “No, actually, that was Sunmi.” The pale girl scratches her head, trying to jog her memory.

     “The vocal teacher?”

     Jihyo hums. “That’s the one. We uh, we’re having an outing on Tuesday.”

     “You mean a date.”

     Jihyo turns around, waving a spatula very threateningly. “I mean an outing, and that’s the end of that.”

     Dahyun smirks, sitting at the island with her chin in her hands. “But she likes you. And you like her too, judging by that huge ass grin you had while she was on the phone.”

     “Language,” she scolds, then sighs. “And while we don’t know for sure…that can be assumed, yes.”

     “Then it’s a date.”

     Jihyo sighs again. “Fine, it’s a date. Happy now?”

     “Of course. As long as I get to meet her first.”

     “You are not—” Jihyo starts to yell, but she backs away once she sees Tzuyu start to stir. “You’re not meeting her, because nothing’s going to happen,” she whispers.

     “Sure Jan.”

     A groan comes from behind them and the pair turn, just in time to see Tzuyu sitting up and stretching. They stand after a few more moments, rubbing their eyes with one hand and scratching their stomach with the other. Their motions bring up their shirt, revealing flat, firm abs and a well-defined v-line. Dahyun can’t help but stare, eyes slightly wide and mouth slightly open. Really she can’t tear them away, tracing them over every line on their skin until the shirt drops, and then she meets Tzuyu’s eyes. They raise an eyebrow when they lock eyes, smirking dangerously. Dahyun blushes and turns away, pretending to pick at some dirt on the counter.

     “Hey Jihyo. Dahyun,” they greet with a small nod. Their voice is a bit deeper than usual, thick with sleep and a bit hoarse. She sees them frown slightly out of the corner of her eye, but shakes off the curiosity when it disappears. Dahyun waves nonchalantly (or at least as nonchalant as she could), her attention still focused on the island.

     Jihyo doesn’t greet them at all, instead shoving a plate of eggs under their nose and pointing to the seat next to Dahyun. “You, eat,” she says, and Tzuyu giggles. Soon enough, her face is in a plate too.

     She pauses when she doesn’t hear the scrape of a fork, glancing up to see Tzuyu gazing at her strangely. It’s different from every other gaze she gets, not one of pity or one of question. It’s not the soft, caring gaze of Sana or the motherly one of Jihyo. Instead it’s a gaze of curiosity, something analytical, like Dahyun is a puzzle that they’re trying to figure out. A streak of boldness runs through her as she returns the favor, raising a brow at them and giving a small smile when Tzuyu startles and starts shoveling eggs into their mouth.

     “Slow down,” Jihyo says, smacking their hand with a towel. They smile sheepishly at her, chewing slowly and obviously in a way that makes the singer roll her eyes.

     “What time is it?”

     “Around 10:20,” Dahyun answers. Tzuyu nods absently before pausing, dropping their fork.

     “10:20? Shit!” They jump up from the table, rushing over to their temporary bed and cleaning everything up in a hurry. “Why didn’t you wake me up Jihyo? I was supposed to be home by seven!”

     “You were tired, I let you sleep!” she argues. They obviously aren’t listening, still folding up the blanket quickly (and neatly, Dahyun notes, impressed.) Jihyo rolls her eyes before moving over to them, snatching the blanket out of their hands and cupping their face in her hands. “Hey, hey, look at me.”

     Tzuyu sighs, relaxing into her hands. It’s a cute sight. Their cheeks were smushed slightly by Jihyo’s, giving off a little squishy pufferfish look. Dahyun giggles as they try to pry her hands off by her wrists, failing miserably as Jihyo just squishes harder. “Listen,” she says, “I just talked to Momo, they were only slightly panicked—” Tzuyu opens their mouth but Jihyo cuts them off with a tut. “But you’re fine, they understand completely. So you’re gonna sit down, you’re gonna finish eating, and then you’re going to say goodbye and leave here like a normal person, got it?”

     Tzuyu sighs, nodding. “Okay.” Jihyo smiles and pats their cheek before returning to the kitchen. They rub at it when she lets go, dragging their feet back over to their half-empty plate. Dahyun shrugs with a smile.

     “At least you can hear about Jihyo’s date on Tuesday.”

     “You have a date on Tuesday?!”

     Jihyo sighs.

     “Why am I in the business building again?” Chaeyoung asks once Dahyun exits her classroom.

     “Because I picked a shitty major and you love me.”

     “That is very true."

     As Dahyun sees it, there are two types of business majors. There are those who love business, either by idolizing too many billionaire philanthropists or because their father was a businessman (and their grandfather and their great grandfather, etc etc.) Then there are those who choose it as a default, like she did, and are at least good at it if they’re not enjoying it wholly. Then there’s Kim Dahyun, the outlier, who is neither good at it nor enjoying it. She really should’ve made a better choice.

     Actually, that applies to more than just her major.

     “So…how’s life buddy?” Chaeyoung asks. Dahyun stops and stares at her friend, who keeps walking until a second or so later.

     “We live together Chaeng, you know exactly how my life is going.”

     Chaeyoung rolls her eyes. “I didn’t mean it like that. You just have been a bit…reserved lately.”

     “I’m always reserved."

     “Can you stop being difficult and let me worry about you? Jesus.”

     Dahyun’s eyes soften, and she sighs before they start moving again. “My bad Chae, didn’t realize there was anything to be worried about.”

     “Well as long as you’re not having another one of your depressive episodes again, I think we’re cool.”

     She grunts as an unassuming student bumps into her, mean mugging the pair before walking away. She flips him off. “I’m fine,” she says. “I’m just…thinking."

     “And what do you have to be thinking about?”

     ‘A lot, actually,’ She muses, ‘especially when you think about it.’ Along with the added pressure of being a senior in college, there’s always that bit of overcontemplation hanging over her head. She feels lonelier than usual, despite seeing her best friend every day and having plenty of interaction with her. Everyone’s break is over, meaning that everyone is busy again. Jihyo’s busy with her new fledging relationship (which she’ll swear to death isn’t a relationship), Tzuyu and Chaeyoung’s project was due at the end of last semester so that’s not an excuse for them to hang out anymore (although she wonders if that’s a good or bad thing, considering how much of a fool that they end up making her despite the added positive that the trio have brought into her life.) Nayeon and Jeongyeon are busy with work, as are Sana and Momo, and Mina and Chaeyoung are in a bit of an awkward phase (which she’s asked about, several times, to no avail.)

     There’s an emptiness there, she’s realized, not just caused by the absence of her friends but also the absence of a certain trio of—no, life ruiners doesn’t seem like the right term now. She misses Sana’s bubbly optimism, Tzuyu’s kind stoicism, and Momo’s caring enthusiasm. She even finds herself missing the things she knows she could never have, like the stolen kisses that she’d accidentally spy upon (which sounds a bit stalkerish, she admits) and the cuddle piles that’d somehow make her feel warm and cold at the same time; warm because of the feelings it’d emit, but cold because it’d bring attention to the lack of affection towards her, the absence of that love that the three of them shared between them.

     But it’s weird too, because she sees Tzuyu after classes every once and a while, yet they seem to be avoiding her, never staying for too long. Even her coworkers (who maybe aren’t as useless as she initially thought) say that she stops by the café during literally every shift but her own. She doesn’t think she’s done anything wrong, or creepy, or offensive, so maybe another thing on her mind was how the fuck she managed to somehow get on the photographer’s bad side.

     “You wanna go out tomorrow?” Chaeyoung asks, interrupting her musings. “We don’t have any classes.”

     Dahyun almost says yes before she winces, something poking at the back of her mind. “I wish I could, but I have to go to the elementary school tomorrow.” Her roommate furrows her brow before she remembers.

     “Sana?” she asks with a smirk, nudging Dahyun hard enough to nearly push her off the path. While Tzuyu’s been playing ultimate hide and seek and the rest of them have been working, the teacher found time to ask her to come to the school for some show and tell thing that her class was doing. And well, there wasn’t really any way that she could say no.

     “So instead of hanging out with me you’d rather chill with a bunch of two year olds?” Chaeyoung says, pouting. Dahyun laughs.

     “Okay first of all, they’re all at least seven. Second of all, you could come too if you want. Show off those artistic skills.” She nudges her friend, lightly so that Chaeyoung doesn’t go flying into the grass. Chaeyoung smirks again.

     “Nah, I don’t want to interrupt your date.”

     This time she does push her.

     Sana opens the door to the classroom just as she’s about to knock the second time, greeting her with a hug and a wide smile. It’s only then that Dahyun realizes that she’s never seen the Japanese woman in professional garb before, wearing a white blouse with a dark pencil skirt and her glasses. Not only did it remind Dahyun of those hot teacher fantasies that everyone seems to have had (which she completely understands now), but it also made her feel severely underdressed in only her hoodie and jeans. Sana giggles when she pulls back, her eye smile attacking in full force.

     “Are you alright Dahyunnie? You keep staring.” She giggles again when Dahyun stutters, rubbing the back of her neck out of nervousness.

     “I uh, I’m just wondering if I should’ve dressed up more,” she says. Technically, it wasn’t a lie. Sana waves her off as they move further into the room.

     “You’re fine, you look great in anything anyways. I just have a dress code.” Dahyun pauses at the offhand compliment, blinking a few times as if to clear her mind. Sana seems to notice the lack of footsteps, turning back and smiling brightly once she takes in the pale girl’s state, who’s pointing at herself with a face of disbelief. “Yes, you. Now come on, the kids will be back any minute.”

     Dahyun can only really stand in front of the teacher’s desk as Sana sits, digging through her bag and pulling out a lunchbox. “I-I’m sorry, I must be making a fool of myself,” she says, trailing off as she looks around the classroom. There were small bits of Sana almost everywhere, small slices of her life and personality. On her lunchbox sat two post-it notes, each with an individual message that had the same strain of thought and the same little hearts at the end of it. Bubbles were painted on the walls in a variety of colors, a few of them near her desk holding some personal pictures. A little reading nook sat in the corner with a few beanbags, a few books scattered across the rug from where kids obviously forgot to pick them up. On the borders of the whiteboard were little colored swirls, drawn by a meticulous hand to make sure they were the lines were completely straight.

     Sana shakes her head out of the corner of Dahyun’s vision, opening a small container. “Nonsense, you’re just fine. Have you eaten recently?”

     Well, no. The last bit of food she had was some cereal a good five hours ago. Sana takes her silence as an answer, practically shoving a sandwich in her hands. “Here, eat.”

     Dahyun takes a bite and groans as the flavors seep into her starved taste buds. “If your paper is blank, you write, or draw, and make something out of it. If your mind is blank, it is only waiting for you to get started,” she reads off the board, written neatly in black marker. “Who said this?”

     Sana rummages through her bag for a bit longer before she finds what she was looking for, putting it in her pocket as she stands and walks over. “I did, actually. To Chaeyoung, I think, when she was having a creative block.”

     “That’s awfully wise of you,” she remarks. Sana only hums, taking her hand and lacing their fingers together before leading her out of the room. Dahyun blushes at the contact, but grips tighter instead of letting go. It’s a small victory when she sees Sana stutter in her steps, nearly tripping over air before regaining her balance and continuing their trip through the halls. The teacher smiles and greets everyone they pass, who can only do the same and stare questioningly at her companion. She can only wave awkwardly, rushing past them without another word. (Vaguely, she wonders what they’re thinking; if they know of Sana’s sexuality, if they know of her personal life. If they’re judging her for bringing someone so raggedy into the building. If they’re judging Dahyun herself for her less than perfect hair and tattered jeans.)

     It’s not long before they reach their destination, which Dahyun thinks is the best room in the building (in her humble opinion, of course.)

     A large, grand piano sits in the back of it (along with various other instruments, but that’s the one that catches her attention first.) Sana giggles when she catches the other girl staring in awe, removing her hand from her grip and using it to coax her forward. Dahyun startles at the loss of contact, but steps forward anyways, running her hands over the glossy black surface. Her hand stills as she turns, observing the pages of sheet music that are scattered over the desk at the front. She sits gently on the bench, as if it’ll break with the slightest bit of weight, and places her hands on the ivory keys. It feels natural, as if they’re coming home.

     She turns back to Sana with wide, glistening eyes. “Can I live here?”

     The teacher chuckles, approaching the piano with a fond smile and leaning her torso over its side. “I don’t think that’s exactly legal,” she says, “but I’ll see what I can do.” She winks, causing Dahyun to blush again and focus on how the keys feel under her fingertips.

     She fiddles around a bit, humming along as she plays the unknown melody of an unwritten tune. Sana’s attentive, gazing down at her and paying close attention to the way she tentatively plays. Her eyes turn sort of glassy, as if she was completely absorbed. A few times Dahyun catches her tapping on the wooden top in the same pattern that she has, almost like she was wanting to play herself. So she asks, “Do you play an instrument?”

     Sana jumps slightly, snapping out of her daze. “Uh, no actually. But I’ve always wanted to.”

     Dahyun hums, scooting over on the bench. She pats the seat next to her, looking up expectantly. “Sit.”

     “Oh no I can’t—” Dahyun raises a brow, and she sits reluctantly. The pale woman holds her hands by her wrists, placing them on the keys and covering them with her own.

     “This is the C Major scale,” she says, and their joint hands press down on each key as she names them. “C, D, E, F…”

     It’s no surprise that they lose track of time, the room silent except for the sound of the piano and Dahyun’s soft instructions. She doesn’t feel the usual increase of her pulse that happens when she’s near Sana, doesn’t stutter when she speaks or contemplates every movement two minutes in advance. It’s…normal, actually, how calm she is when she speaks, how the other woman’s skin feels under her touch. Every so often Sana messes up a key (she’s teaching her songs now, the simple ones) and she giggles, glancing back at Dahyun for reassurance. Eventually it gets to where Dahyun’s playing more than Sana is, the teacher simply coming along for the ride. She noodles around, playing melodies that she vaguely remembers from other works she’s heard and mushing them together with small, simple transitions. It’s slowing down, like a song you’d hear in a flowery meadow with a small breeze, when she feels someone’s gaze on her, and turns.

     Sana’s eyes can literally sparkle, she’s sure of it, and the dark pools are too enticing for her to not get sucked into. It’s an eerily similar gaze to the one she saw in Tzuyu’s eyes a few weeks ago, mixed with something new. A vague curiosity kind of colliding with the beginnings of realization, and topped off with the same kind, caring gaze that Sana always has. (But it’s more of a soft collision, like a little tap instead of a huge explosion.) Dahyun’s eyes travel over her face, from her solid gaze to the perfect arch of her noze, to her pink, glossy, slightly parted lips. They’re close, close enough that just one lean forward…

     Someone clears their throat from the door. Sana blinks and turns, standing quickly and leaving Dahyun to stare at where her face just was. The sound of children soon enters the room, and it’s then that she remembers that she actually has a job to do. The voice of Chaeyoung rings in the back of her mind. ‘I don’t want to interrupt your date,’ she had said. Damn it, she’d wanted to prove her wrong.

     A small finger pokes her in the arm, bringing her out of her thoughts. “Who are you?” A voice asks, a bit high-pitched, and she turns to see a little girl looking at her with wide eyes. Sana chuckles, coming over and guiding the girl back to the rest of her classmates with an apologetic smile. Dahyun can only nod in return.

     It’s evident when the other woman’s “teacher mode” turns on, her mannerisms all sharp and purposeful, and her voice changed from a light bubbliness to a soft sternness, just enough for her to assert her authority while still a bit kind. She claps her hands together, gaining the children’s attention.

     “Kids, this is Ms. Kim. She’s a friend of mine.” Without prompting they all chorus their greetings, some small and some loud, but all were short enough for the kids to be reined in quickly afterwards. A few kids wave at her shyly after they’re all silent, and she can’t help but wave back with a small smile. They remind her of herself in a way, especially with how a few of them stare at the piano with wide eyes.

     Sana continues. “So next year you guys are going to be allowed to enroll in arts courses, and one of the courses you can take are music lessons. For the rest of this week, someone’s gonna come in an demonstrate all of the instruments you can learn for you, but today we’re just focusing on the piano. Dah-Ms. Kim,” Dahyun chuckles at her mistake, “is going to play a little something for us, and then we’ll get started. Please, give her your utmost attention.”

     She was so focused on Sana speaking that she startles when she stops, caught off guard by the dozens of eyes staring at her. She glances at the teacher, who only smiles and nods encouragingly, before turning back to the keys before her. ‘It’s just a bunch of kids,’ she thinks, inhaling deeply. ‘You’re in your element. Just play.'

     And so she plays.

     It’s only seconds in that she realizes what she’s improvising, although it’s not exactly improvising anymore. If anything, it’s a direct translation from her feelings to the notes. Every piece of music tells a story, whether short or long, sad or happy, finished or ongoing. Her story starts with a solid, basic melody, traveling down to the highs and lows of the scale every once and a while. Then it picks up, and Dahyun plays what she imagines to be uncertainty, the rhythms going from moderately fast actions, a constant press forward, to slower, cautious movements, with clumps of notes more spaced out from each other. She doesn’t know how long the song has gone on, only knows where she is in the story, and she reaches where she thinks it is so far. The pauses in between notes become shorter and melody becomes more confident, more steady. It repeats what happened at the beginning, with only minor differences. There’s more highs than lows, the higher notes popping out against the mostly neutral base. She finishes with a run to the higher octave, trailing off to something expectantly.

     She doesn’t hear much, the sounds of children cheering are muffled to her ears as she stays hunched over the piano, breathing deeply yet not heavily. The meaning of everything stays imprinted in her mind, even as the notes she just played fade out of her recent memory. She hopes someone recorded it.

     It’s a mixture of distress and calm she feels, and it’s that mixture that she pushes away as she plasters on a smile and turns back to the kids, clapping her hands together. “Alright, so who wants to learn the piano?”

     Children are overwhelming, she learns, but they’re a welcome distraction as a flurry of questions get thrown towards her about every little thing. A few kids even ask her some more personal questions, which she can only really answer simply. They’re all harmless really, asking about her age and what she does for a living, if she’ll be coming back. (“Twenty-two, I’m a college student, I don’t know.”) They’re all harmless, until the little girl from earlier comes up to her just as the bell rings and it’s time for the kids to go home.

     “Are you one of Ms. Sana’s girlfriends?” she asks innocently. The answer is a simple no, and she knows this, but for some reason she freezes up instead, rubbing the back of her neck and awkwardly trying to laugh it off.

     “Uh, no, I’m not,” She answers, but not without another nervous laugh. The girl tilts her head.

     “But you look at her weird?” Dahyun nearly feels all the blood drain out of her body. ‘I can’t believe I’m getting called out by an eight year old,’ she thinks.

     “Yerim!” Sana calls, and the girl turns to her as Dahyun thanks her silently. “C’mon, your mom is here.” The girl turns back and waves at Dahyun with a small goodbye before skipping away, right past an older who she swears wasn’t there before. Sana sighs when he walks in, moving to stand slightly in front of Dahyun like a protective shield. Didn’t matter, of course, the man was at least fifteen centimeters bigger than the both of them.

     “What did I tell you about sharing your…lifestyle choices with the students, Ms. Minatozaki,” he sneers. Oh, so it’s an asshole. She sneers back and starts to roll up her sleeves, stopping when Sana rests a placating hand on her forearm. Even with her calm facade, she can feel how the teacher tenses up, standing tall.

     “I didn’t share anything, Hyun-suk, and there’s nothing wrong with the girl being curious.”

     Hyun-suk scoffs, his eyes looking over Dahyun in a way that makes her shiver. She can feel the judgement, probably for many reasons, and yet that doesn’t make her want to punch him in the face as much as it does when he looks at Sana the same way, with more than a bit of disgust. Her hand balls into a fist.

     “No matter what happened, just make sure that you keep your personal life out of your job. The children don’t need to be confused, and they certainly don’t need to be going home and telling their parents about their teacher and her multiple female lovers.”

     With that he walks away, shutting the door behind him. Sana finally relaxes, slumping down in a nearby chair and crossing her legs. “Well, he was an asshole,” Dahyun states simply. Sana chuckles with a sad smile.

     “He’s my boss.”

     The younger woman furrows her brow, sitting in a chair across from her. “If he obviously despises you so much, how have you not been fired yet?”

     Sana sighs. “I should have phrased that better. He’s the vice principal, so all he can really do is glare at me and say underhanded comments. The actual principal doesn’t give a shit, she’s really cool. With her approval, I stay.”

     “And why do you stay, if you have to deal with that every day?”

     She shrugs. “Sometimes even I don’t know,” she says. She sighs again, standing and offering Dahyun her hand. “Do you want to come over? I feel like I haven’t seen you in ages.”

     Dahyun hesitates, but quickly makes her decision once the teacher starts to pout. “Sure, why not?”  

     The first thing she sees when she enters the apartment is Tzuyu, lounging on the couch with their feet on the armrest and watching some drama that they’re barely interested in. Their eyes widen slightly when they see Dahyun behind their girlfriend, but that’s forgotten in favor of catching Sana’s tired body with open arms. Once again, the pale girl feels like she’s intruding, hiding away by the door as they have their moment.

     “How was work, baby?” Tzuyu asks, kissing the crown of Sana’s head. The teacher simply grumbles, snuggling into their hold and already closing her eyes.

     “It was work,” she says. “Where’s Moguri?”

     “Drinks with Seulgi. Apparently her and Irene got engaged.”

     “Really?” she lifts her head, brows furrowed. “I just saw Irene a couple hours ago, she didn’t say anything about an engagement."

     “They probably just want to keep it to themselves for a bit, but you know how bad Seulgi is with secrets.”

     Sana laughs lightly before her eyes flutter shut again, nuzzling into Tzuyu’s collarbone. She doesn’t seem to stir again, not even when Dahyun sneezes abruptly, startling Tzuyu out of their fond gaze towards their girlfriend. They look almost apologetic, which was fairly warranted considering how they’ve been avoiding her for the past two weeks. They sigh, standing with Sana in their arms and vaguely gesturing towards the couch.

     “You can have a seat, if you want,” they say. “I’m just gonna put her in our room.”

     So she sits, twiddles her thumbs as she waits for Tzuyu to come back, laughs when she hears them curse loudly after a muffled bang. They enter the room limping slightly, hopping on their left foot before falling across from her on the couch.

     “I uh, I stubbed my toe,” they mutter, and start picking at stray fabric on the couch. Dahyun grins.

     “I heard.”

     For a second they sit there in silence, because Dahyun remembers that she’s supposed to be mad at them and Tzuyu remembers that they’ve been ostracizing her with no explanation. Dahyun sighs, grabbing their hand to stop them from picking a hole into the couch. “Did I do something wrong?” she asks.

     Tzuyu looks up with wide eyes. “No, no absolutely not.”

     “Then why have you been avoiding me like the plague?”

     They sigh, leaning back into the couch. “It’s not just you. I’ve been sort of distant with everyone, even these two.” Dahyun can’t help but give them a look, raising her eyebrow. “But that’s not much of an excuse.” They glance up at the sky, fiddling with their fingers and humming, like they’re trying to think up something. “Okay so, you know when a car needs fixing?"

     Dahyun nods. “Yeah, so in order to fix it you have to stop using it, and then...” they pause. “I just realized this isn’t really a good analogy.”

     Dahyun rolls her eyes. “Fuck analogies, Tzu, just tell me what’s going on.” Tzuyu shrugs.

     “There’s just some things I need to fix about myself, and it’s easier to fix them if it’s just me trying to do so, and not anyone else. Especially not the people I’m fixing myself for.”

     She furrows her brow. “But you’re perfectly fine.”

     Tzuyu shakes their head, smiling softly. “That’s what you think.”

     “Okay…” she drawls. She doesn’t think she’s ever seen Tzuyu this ominous before, and of course it raises her curiosity, but some things are better left alone. Especially if they want to do this on their own. But there’s another question sort of niggling at the back of her mind, even though she thinks she already knows the answer. “Who are you fixing yourself for?” she asks.

     Tzuyu smiles wistfully, resting their elbow on the back of the sofa and leaning on it. Their eyes glaze over, and she can see remnants of the same stare they gave her two weeks ago at Jihyo’s place, a sprinkle of the one that Sana had given her only hours before. It was a small, faint sprinkle though, mostly overtaken by the former. “The future,” they say simply. She rolls her eyes, smiling slightly at Tzuyu’s chuckle as they rise from the couch.

     “I’m sure Sana didn’t mean to pass out on you when she initially invited you home, but you don’t have to stay.” They pause, pondering something before continuing. “I’ll be in our room if you do.” With that they lean down, pressing a small butterfly kiss to her temple before stalking off. It takes a while for her brain to catch up to anything, touching her fingertips to where their lips just were in a bit of a daze. Faintly, she hears the end of the song she played at the school start up again, trailing into the higher range and staying there, playing a soft, sweet melody.

     (In the end she doesn’t stay, leaving the apartment with a small goodbye and returning home with a small smile planted firmly on her face. Chaeyoung furrows her brow when she enters the apartment, pausing her game to stare at her roommate.

     “What’s up?” she asks, then protests when Dahyun flops on the couch and wraps her up in her arms, giving the younger girl a noogie.

     “There’s something weird going on, but I think I like it.”)   

Chapter Text

    Heavy breathing bounces of every wall in the room, only accompanied by the slow roll of music. The music picks up, as does the pace of the breathing, and they both raise to a new height as the song hits its climax, slowing down with a soft instrumental again. The room is silent as its occupants drop to the floor, out of breath and covered in sweat.

   “Your dancing’s getting better, Tzuyu-ah,” Momo says. Tzuyu can only give her a tumbs up, sprawled on the floor from exhaustion. Their girlfriend giggles, getting up and walking over with two water bottles. “You tired, baby?”

   “It’s—” wheeze “been a while,” they say, letting out a small cough. Momo giggles again, straddling their waist. Tzuyu lifts their head, taking the bottle and nearly drinking the whole thing in one gulp before weakly throwing it across the room. She can’t help but smile up at the dancer, groaning playfully.

   “You’re heavy.”

   Momo scoffs. “All that strength you like to show off, and you can’t handle one little girl?”

   “Well you’re not as little as you think you are,” they say with a smirk. They hook their leg over Momo’s waist, flipping the two of them so that the dancer is on the bottom. They lean down, connecting their lips in a kiss that leaves her more breathless than she already is. Their hands slide under her shirt and roam over their girlfriend’s torso, tapping little patterns on her skin. It makes Momo squirm underneath them, has her giggling into the kiss just as Tzuyu nips at her bottom lip and pulls away. They move their hands again, running them over her abs and down to her hips, bringing them back up to her chest with a small squeeze.

   “And I’d say you’re more of a woman now.”

   Momo rolls her eyes. “Ha ha, very funny.”

   “Thanks, I’ll be here all week.”

   She rolls her eyes again, attempting to push them off to no avail. Instead she sighs at her failure, running a hand over Tzuyu’s abdomen as the other lands on their hip. Sana’s more of the voyeur out of the three of them. She enjoys watching them doing the smallest of things, from simple stretches to make out sessions, training her eyes on their figures and imprinting it into her memory. They all have a thing with touch though, especially Momo. A brush of the fingers, a hand on the small of their back, tracing shapes into her girlfriends’ skin. Sometimes it’s more than that, like a heavy grip on their arm or thigh, or a clammy hand intertwining with hers. It’s both grounding and calming, a sign that they’re still there and a small thing for part of her mind to focus on.

    She catches Tzuyu staring at her, smiles softly as a hand comes up to cup her cheek. “I don’t remember you being this toned when we first met,” she teases.

    “Well maybe I had some incentive,” they say, stroking her skin with their thumb. “You tend to have some of that with two beautiful women chasing after you.”

    “We weren’t chasing, first of all, so don’t get cocky kid.”

    “Okay fine, you had your sights on me,” Tzuyu drawls, and smiles as Momo rolls her eyes.

    “If that was the case, I think my scope was broken."

    “Hey!”

    Momo giggles and tickles her girlfriend, causing them to squirm on top of her. They pinch at the skin under her breast in retaliation, making Momo yelp and stop the onslaught as they lean down for another kiss. It’s slower this time, softer, and the dancer smiles before she murmurs against the other’s lips.

    “Hey,” she says, “You wanna know something?” Tzuyu hums.

    Momo pulls back with dark, glassy eyes, reaches up to stroke at the skin at Tzuyu’s neck. “I love you.”

    She can see the way that they preen at the phrase, as they always seem to do. She was used to it, as was Sana, from years and years of loving each other until it never had to be spoken. But she knows—they both do—that there’s a part in Tzuyu that appreciates the confirmation, that will hold onto it for days on end like a lifeline. It hasn’t been long enough to be able to go unspoken (eight months with them, eight months that sometimes seem like years), but it’s no chore to waste a bit of breathe just to reaffirm something that they already should know. Tzuyu though, shows their love in actions, and sends all of it through the way their lips connect, through the way that they grip at Momo’s skin tenderly and does everything so softly in case the slightest pressure would cause the moment to break.

    The door opens, and it breaks with a small yelp and several rushed apologies. They both break away and look up to see a long-legged, dark haired woman covering her eyes. Just then Jihyo waltzes in, glancing around the scene and back to intruding woman. She sighs. “Seriously guys? You couldn’t wait until you got home?” she turns back to the woman, gently removing it from her face and holding it in her own. “It’s okay Sunmi, they’re just being rapscallions.”

    Momo shrugs. “I don’t know what you’re talking about, we were just dancing.”

    “Mhm,” Jihyo hums, pinching her lips, “Just dancing.”

    “Don’t try it Park, I’m not the one dating my coworker.”

    She opens her mouth to retort but only ends up stuttering, face flushing red to match that of her companion. Momo smirks triumphantly just as another person walks in, her attention so focused on them that she’s blind to the other two on the ground.

    “What’s taking so long, I thought you said you just had to close up?” she asks, and Momo’s mischief seems to carry on (she’s usually much more cautious, the meaningless flirting and the teasing is more so Sana’s domain.) (‘Meaningless,’ she thinks, as her thoughts on the term are still influenced by a conversation held long ago. ‘Certainly it is.’)

    “Don’t be bratty, Dahyun, you’ll get your way soon enough.” She finishes off with a wink just as Dahyun turns to the couple with wide eyes. The sight makes both her and Tzuyu giggle, of the three red-faced women stood still in the doorway. Tzuyu stands with one final peck, pulling their girlfriend up with one hand.

    “Yeah, we were just about to pack up.”

    They walk over to the trio as Momo collects her stuff, looking Sunmi up and down with narrowed eyes before offering a handshake. “Sunmi, was it? I’m Tzuyu, Momo’s girlfriend.”

    Sunmi shakes it firmly with a small chuckle. “I figured.”

    Said girlfriend walks up moments later, hugging the other three before pulling back. “Dahyun, did Nayeon tell you and Chae about our night out tonight?"

    “Uh, no.” Dahyun blinks. “The same club Mina works at?"

    “Yeah.”

    Something lights up in the pale girl’s eyes and she nods with a small smile. “Alright, we’ll be there.”

    Momo grins, keeps her gaze for a moment longer before turning to Tzuyu, furrowing her brow at the mischievous glint in their eye. “Sunmi, you should come too,” they say, taking the both of the teachers by surprise. “Introduce yourself to the group.”

    Jihyo laughs awkwardly. “Uh, I don’t think that’s such a good id-”

    “Sure, why not?”

    The singer blanches, turning to the teacher with wide eyes. “Really?”

    “Yeah, it’d be fun to meet your friends,” she says, grinning. “See if all the stories are true.”

    Jihyo pales further until she’s nearly Dahyun’s color, which makes Momo suspect that she’s a more than a bit nervous about her prospect meeting their…troublesome troupe. They’re not that bad, she swears, but back in the day she, Sana, Jeongyeon, and Nayeon (and Jihyo as well, but she was the calmest of them all) were…a riot. They were the life of the party in college, their incidents were legendary. But as life goes on, as people are forced to mature…actually forget that they still get into trouble every once and a while.

    “Everything will be fine,” Momo murmurs to her, after Sunmi and Dahyun had left the room and she stands with her eyes closed, head tilted back against the wall.

    “Probably not, considering that my closest friends are going to tell all my embarrassing stories to my new girlfriend.” The dancer smirks.

    “Girlfriend, huh? When did that happen?”

    Jihyo groans before walking out of the room. “Shut up.”

    Momo leans back into the strong arms that wrap around her waist, kissing their cheek and resting her head on their shoulder. “What made you have that great idea?” she asks, hums when their thumb starts to stroke her hip.

    Tzuyu shrugs. “Just thought it’d be a nice gesture. Get to know her better.”

    “Mhm, sure.” She turns in their arms, gasping when she spots the look on her face and the way her eyes stray to the ceiling. “You’re being overprotective!”

    “What? Am not.”

    “Yes you are, you’re trying to see if Sunmi’s good enough for her.” Momo pats their cheek before pulling away, throwing her bag over her shoulder. “It’s cute.”

    Tzuyu grumbles, following her out of the room. “It’s not cute.”                                                                                                      

    They’re at a club, again (which isn’t technically so bad, but the last time Dahyun came to a club it did a bit of damage to her hope and confidence, and she’d rather stay home than relive that memory the moment she stepped into the room.) It’s bright, and hot, and loud, and maybe all the noise hurts her ears a bit but it’s fine. She doesn’t jump when a knowing hand grabs her wrist (Sana, she recognizes, by the lithe fingers and the way she grips gently, cautiously) and turns to see the teacher beaming at her, nearly dragging her over to where their group of friends sat. Yeah, it’s fine.

    Nayeon cheers when they approach, throwing her arms around the pale girl’s shoulders in a sloppy hug. Her breath doesn’t reek of alcohol yet, but it’s definitely not a faint scent. “I didn’t think you were gonna make it!” she yells over the crowd. “I’m glad!”

    Dahyun chuckles. “I can see that.”

    It’s not long until Jeongyeon comes to collect her tipsy girlfriend, who’s still hanging onto Dahyun like a monkey. She glances back at Chaeyoung after expressing her thanks. Her roommate’s staring at Mina (very obviously, may she add), who’s currently talking to Sana while wiping down the bar. “Chae,” she calls, snapping in front of her face. Her friend blinks, turning to her blankly. Dahyun sighs, “Just go talk to her.”

    “It’s not that simple.”

    “It’s not?” she says, raising a brow. “I don’t know what happened, but literally the worst thing you two could do right now is not talk.”

    Chaeyoung sighs, moving them over to a less crowded spot in the club. “We kissed.”

    Dahyun’s eyes widen comically. “You what?!”

    “Okay okay, more like I kissed her. A week or so ago.”

    “A week ago? Why didn’t you tell me I’m your roommate,” she pauses, punching Chaeyoung in the arm before continuing, “scratch that, I’m your best friend.”

    Her friend shrugs, rubs the back of her nape sheepishly. “You had other things to worry about.”

    “Like what? Just because I’m panicking with my love life doesn’t mean that I can’t help you with yours, that’s not how this works.”

    “It’s not like anything’s gonna happen anyways. As soon as I pulled away she just…stared at me. So I left.”

    She yelps as Dahyun smacks her head. “Stupid! You never leave!”

    “I’m sorry!”

    “Then you can apologize to me by growing a pair and talking to her.” Chaeyoung whines, glancing around reluctantly. “Don’t try to get out of it Chae, if you don’t talk to her now you’ll regret it forever.”

    “How do you know?”

    “Joohyun, last year.” They both shiver at the memory, one that Dahyun’s fruitlessly tried to erase. Joohyun was her hot, ethereal beauty of a TA. She kissed her during a tutoring session, made it awkward, and they never spoke again. She had to transfer out of the class.

    “Okay, so,” she holds Chaeng’s shoulder, shaking her lightly, “while you try to get some courage—liquid or otherwise—I’m gonna go have a conversation with my three crushes like a normal person.”

    “What? No,” Chaeyoung whines. “Dubu help me.”

    She’s already walking away at that point, grinning and waving at her roommate as she approaches the bar. Sana and Mina are still engrossed in their conversation, the former firmly seated on Tzuyu’s lap as they rest their head on her back. They stop talking when she approaches, which is suspicious, but not enough to cause any alarms to go off. Sana’s smile is near blinding, although adorable in the way that her cheeks squish up and her eyes are nearly shut, and it nearly makes Dahyun lose her train of thought.

    “Where’s Momo?” she asks.

    “Dancing, as always.” Tzuyu turns to face her, lifting their head from Sana’s back to lean back in the chair.

    Sana pouts. “Why, are we not enough for you?”

    She’s teasing, Dahyun knows this, but the notion of any of the trio thinking that they’re not enough for her by themselves hurts just a bit, throws her mind for a loop. She shakes her head furiously. “No no, I was just wondering. I—”

    A giggle cuts her off, and she stills as Sana stares with dark eyes as she takes a sip of her drink. She winks when she sets it down, holds Tzuyu’s hands around her waist, moves them down to her thighs as she leans back into them. The air is thick around them in a way that everything else is drowned out but the three of them. She hears her steady heartbeat, can feel the air she inhales travel through her lungs and come back out. Sana smiles, something small and dangerous as Tzuyu’s hands snake up and down her thighs, seeming to push her forward.

    “Would you like to dance, Dahyunnie?” she asks.

    Dahyun can’t help but say yes.

    The teacher takes her hand and they make their way to the dance floor. Sana seems to immediately adjust to the music, swaying her hips to the rhythm in a way that immediately attracts Dahyun’s eyes. They somehow manage to meet up with Momo, and the warmth of Sana’s hand leaves hers for a scene that’s too familiar.

    They fit like puzzle pieces, Momo’s hands on her waist as Sana dances against her front, moving fluidly, almost gracefully. Dahyun’s still and silent as Momo presses closer and slots their hips together, can feel other patrons bump into her as she’s mesmerized by the way they move, trapped in a bubble with heavy breathing and heated stares. The dancer’s eyes open and catch hers, calls over with no words and yet…she can’t. The familiar feeling comes forward, of intrusion, of not belonging. It feels too easy, it feels too right. She’s…she’s scared.

    She hates it.

    Slowly, she starts moving, and her body’s nearly torn in two. There’s the side—the right side, the side she should listen to and yet isn’t—that’s dragging her towards them, that accepts the magnets between her soul and their bodies and wants her closer. Then there’s the side that ruins everything, the doubts taking her away as Momo furrows her brow in question, the side that drags her to the bar and asks for shots upon shots. Maybe, just maybe she’ll take her own advice and take some liquid courage. Or maybe her doubts will take her right back to where she started.

    (Sad, drunk, lonely as the two on the floor intoxicate her so effortlessly.)

    There comes a time when everyone makes decisions, and the time comes for her to make hers. She can already feel the alcohol warming up her body, her thoughts becoming muddled and her motions a sure unsureness. (She nearly laughs at the oxymoron. Sure unsureness, unpurposely on purpose. Confident in the body but not in the mind.) She glances around, sees Tzuyu grilling Sunmi as their eyes stray to their girlfriends on the floor (and Sunmi’s straying to Jihyo’s form, moving freely, sexily. She’s glad for her friend.) Her roommate and Mina are nowhere to be found, but that’s a good thing, she thinks. And she spots Sana and Momo out of everything, standing out, screaming at her. It’s a danger zone, she knows, and one wrong move could make everything (everything that was going well, everything that gave her some hope) go disastrously. She takes another shot, frees her mind and her muscles before moving to the floor. Far, far away.

    She was never much of a risk taker.

    The music drowns out her senses, drowns out all of the thoughts telling her to go back to them. She liked those thoughts, it reminded her of her conscience. She misses them, vaguely, but too vague to care much. Instead she dances, moves like she’s never moved before, throws her head back and runs her hands through her hair with her eyes closed. Hands find their way onto her waist. Not good hands, not comfortable, not the right hands (there are only three sets of those, and those were definitely not it.) But it’s a club, she should let loose, and she allows it. The hands though, they’re rough and grabby, too big and too hairy, too clammy. She vaguely hears a voice, too gruff and low. Hot air blows on her neck, and that’s when she opens her eyes. She pulls from the hands, turns around to see a tall man leering at her with a smirk.

    “Come back baby, we were just having some fun.”

    “I—Don’t, don’t—” she stutters, voice hoarse. Her mouth is dry, lips nearly stuck together. He presses forward, her steps back too small to get her out of his reach as his hands land back on her waist. “Don’t call me that.”

    “Call you what baby?” He’s close enough that she smells the alcohol in his breath, and she shoves at his grip that only seems to get tighter.

    “Get off of her!”

    The voice isn’t hers, something she realizes a bit delayed, and neither is the hand that shoves the man back, and neither is the arm that wraps around her waist. The arm pulls her close, and she sniffles against their collarbone, recognizing the musk of sweat and the faint smell of peaches. ‘Momo.’

    “I wasn’t even doing anything,” the man complains, and he steps forward. Momo steps back. “Right sweets?”

    “You were making her uncomfortable, and now I suggest that you go back to whoever you came here with. If you came alone, then you can stay alone.”

    He blinks a few times, processing before his face scrunches up. “And what does the lady want, huh? Maybe she wants to go with me.”

    Dahyun buries her face further into Momo’s neck, closes her eyes as she hears the man step closer and feels the dancer pull away slightly, ready to pounce at any moment. Then there’s a thump, and a collective gasp.

    “Learn how to read body language then, dumbass,” Tzuyu says lowly. Dahyun opens her eyes. They’re standing over him, holding their fist as he lays on the ground with a red mark on the left side of his face. “You have two options. You can leave now, with whatever shred of dignity you may have left, or you can try to touch them again and become a permanent instillation in the floor.” They shrug nonchalantly, crossing their arms in a way that has their muscles flexing subconsciously. “Your choice.”

    The man scrambles to his feet, tries to walk out of the club with his shoulders back and head up like he left after a score instead of nearly getting his ass beat. It’s not long until Dahyun feels another pair of arms wrap around her waist (good arms, the right arms), and the scent of strawberries washes over her. She closes her eyes, turns further in Momo’s arms and sniffles again. Someone’s head rests on hers.

    “You can smell how drunk she is,” Momo murmurs. The head on hers nods, Sana humming in agreement.

    “She needs to go home. Where’s Chaeng?”

    Tzuyu scoffs. “Probably with Mina. I’m not walking in on that.”

    “Then she can come back with us. Is she gonna move?” At that Dahyun whines, curling in even closer. She doesn’t want to be alone, can’t stand to not be surrounded by them. It’s almost like her dream, but this time it’s real. It’s real, it’s tangible, and it’s safe. Sana sighs. “Okay, then one of you two will have to carry her. I’m not strong enough.”

    “I’ll do it, I think Tzu broke their hand.”

    It’s not long before she feels herself being lifted, hearing Momo’s little grunt of effort as someone guides her head onto the dancer’s shoulder. She whines when they walk outside of the club, eyes still shut as the cold air hits her straight in the face. Sana strokes her hair, coos as Momo rubs her arm. “It’s okay Dahyunnie, we’ll be out of the cold soon enough. We’re just going back to our place.” She whines again, moves her lips against the heat of Momo’s pulse point and feels it get warmer.

    “Thank you,” she murmurs, just a bit drowsy as her mouth trails up. Her head bounces as Momo shrugs, and she can feel eyes on her. Her own eyes don’t open.

    “I think Dahyun’s like you when she’s drunk,” Tzuyu remarks, and said girl hums as she reaches Momo’s jawline.

    “Super touchy? I-I wouldn’t be surprised.” Momo stutters slightly when the pale girl starts talking again, mumbling her thanks with little nothings in between. She’s at her cheek now, her lips tickling the dancer’s skin and making her turn red.

    Tzuyu sighs. “Do you want me to take her Mo?”

    “No, I’m fine. Totally fine.” Dahyun hears Sana giggle, hears them fade away as she moves to the right. She taps Momo’s collarbone, opens her eyes just as she turns her head to the intoxicated girl in her arms. Her eyes are glassy, and she’s close, way to close, for the dancer to not glance down at her lips.

    “Thank you,” Dahyun says again, clearer, and brushes them together. A simple brush, until she presses just a bit harder just before her eyes close and she slumps. She doesn’t feel Momo stop, doesn’t hear the trio’s gasps, stays blissfully unaware of the mess her drunk self has made and only conscious of the headache she’ll have when she wakes up.

    (“If she were to kiss anyone first I thought it’d be you,” Tzuyu remarks to Sana, after they’re home and in bed and Dahyun’s knocked out in their guest room. Momo’s sitting lotus style in front of them on the bed, eyes unfocused and mind busy as she lets Sana rub her back and Tzuyu press kisses to her nape.

    “What’s on your mind Momoring?” the teacher asks, and Momo sighs, flopping back on the bed and relaxing as her girlfriends surround her.

    “We need to cross that bridge. Things have changed.”)