Chapter Text
Before they see it, which they never will, people often imagine their CEO’s office to be neat and orderly.
It’s rather counterintuitive, because most of their fans hate Yang Hyun Suk, with the smug way he carries himself, his somewhat-obnoxious hat, and above all, his tendency to leave them hanging for months on end by locking his artists in a dungeon to rot.
Kim Jisoo hates him for that last one, too, just a little.
But the thing is, he’s not that bad. Jisoo is sure he has his reasons for those breaks— in their case, a year that seemed to last forever— and it’s not as if they’re mistreated in any way. Well, yes, his criticisms can be a bit harsh, because there are some things people just can’t change about themselves, no matter how much they want to. Especially since he’s been looking down on plastic surgery lately.
And it’s not as if he only values appearances; no, it’s common knowledge that YG has always put talent first. He isn’t anywhere near nice about it, but he’s almost always right, and it’s clear now because the public loves them. As the visual, Jisoo knows better than anyone how much of that is for shallow reasons, as bad as it sounds.
Then there’s those who truly do love them for their talent: for the way the words spill from Jennie’s lips like liquid fire, beautiful to witness but tinted with an edge of danger; for the way Lisa lets the music surge through her body and sculpt her movements into untamed beauty; for the way Chaeyoung strums at her guitar and leans over the microphone to breathe out a tentative melody; for the way Jisoo…
Well.
Look, Jisoo knows she isn’t untalented by any sense of the word— she’s realistic, not negative to the point of delusion. Surviving half a decade of trainee life in a Big 3 company has to mean something, but out of the four of them? There’s no contest. What can Kim Jisoo offer to BLACKPINK that they don’t already have? She’s never been able to dance like the rest of them, Jennie’d make as good a visual as Jisoo has ever been, and she’s a decent singer but Chaeyoung is something else entirely.
Jisoo is the least valuable member, and every social media site or poll or news article knows that just as well as she does. Maybe the only people who don’t are the three sitting next to her right now.
It’s a familiar position they’re in, crowded uncomfortably around the opposite side of this desk meant for one man. But they make it work, because of all things their group has never had a problem with being too close to each other.
Where was she? Ah, back to the office. It’s not clean and tidy at all, and that’s part of the reason they’re so cramped right now. Papers are stacked on the edges, mountainous on the mahogany, nearly tipping over their unbalanced bases. The computer keyboard requires a deep dive through several layers of CDs to reach. Dusty CDs, probably demos from solo artists he’d never release.
It’s too much to hope for new music whenever they have one of these meetings with YG, but they all can’t help it. They’ve already started preparing for next year’s comeback, but Jisoo had no doubt they’ll keep rehearsing it for months that bring little improvement and only end up exhausting them until they’re bored of the music by the time they release it. Saying months is generous, because As If It’s Your Last grew old around the seventieth performance. And pretty much all the songs from Square Up had been ready before they’d even debuted, so despite their best efforts to hide it, this comeback had been less, well, spectacular. But it remained their biggest to date: Ddu-du Ddu-du is still charting in the top ten though promotions had wrapped up now, four months after its release.
With some effort, Jisoo tells herself to stop being bitter, because to her right Jennie squeezes her hand nervously. Jisoo needs to get through this so Jennie, the one who’s always been the most affected by their long hiatuses, can as well. Despite the fact that it’s still not clear what “this” is.
Sajangnim clears his throat and shuffles the papers he’s been shuffling for three minutes some more. Jisoo wants to rip them from his hand and stuff them into the bin by his desk.
So much for not being bitter. She’s so wrapped up in that fantasy that she almost misses it when he finally speaks. “Girls,” he says in his particular way, “we all know your last comeback was very successful.”
They nod; then, from Jisoo’s side, Jennie blurts, “So is our next soon?”
Jisoo laughs to herself a little— Jennie’s always been bold when it comes to this aspect of things, because she knows what she wants, and maybe that’s what YG likes about her. Across the desk, he does the same, which for no legitimate reason makes Jisoo want to slap that infuriating smile right off his face.
“That’s the purpose of today’s meeting,” he replies, and the four of them shoot each other equally astonished expressions. “We plan to release new music before the end of the year.”
Two comebacks in half a year?! For a YG group? Granted, their male counterparts in iKON had recently received theirs a week ago; not that Jisoo’s implying their CEO is biased or anything.
In all seriousness, she’s amazed. And so are the others, from the looks of it: Chaeyoung is openly gaping at him, Lisa is on the edge of her seat like she’s about to jump out of it and rejoice, and Jennie is gripping Jisoo’s hand tighter under the desk as if she’s afraid she might wake up from a dream.
Then Sajangnim adds, “A solo debut, that is.”
A solo debut?! This early? Granted, BIGBANG had done the same thing and turned out fine, but so had 2NE1, and everyone knows what happened to them. And even they had far more than BLACKPINK’s current nine (nine!) songs when they’d released their first solo projects.
The thrilled atmosphere from earlier has dissipated following this new revelation. Lisa has sunk back into her chair, almost sulkily; Chaeyoung’s eyes are narrowed in thought. There’s just so many questions that come with this. What about the songs they’ve already been rehearsing? Is their comeback as a group just going to get delayed for another year? And finally, but most importantly… who’s debuting?
Jisoo thinks she knows, but she doesn’t say anything. She doesn’t have to, because only seconds later their CEO says, “Jennie, you’ll be heading to the studio sometime soon to prepare the song.”
Jennie looks shocked, but she’s the only one. Jisoo’s honestly not surprised: it makes sense, Jennie is their most well-rounded member, encompassing rap and vocals and dance all in one. Lisa seems indifferent as well; Jisoo thinks she probably doesn’t mind too much, having just filmed several dance teasers of her own for the new YG academy project. And Chaeyoung… Chaeyoung’s fighting to keep her expression blank, but the disappointment stands out there clear as day.
Jisoo can sort of understand: as the main vocalist, Chaeyoung has the right to be upset about not being chosen for the first solo project. But at the same time, Jisoo can’t relate at all, because she’d hardly hope to set any sort of expectations for her own music.
“I— thank you very much!” Jennie disentangles her hand from Jisoo’s to clasp her other, proffering what she can of a bow in this limited space. It’s kind of awkward, but cute anyway.
Sajangnim waves her off. “Practice it a few times first. You’ll get it recorded as soon as possible and then we’ll have a video filmed to release in late November or December. In London.”
Jennie’s mouth opens and closes again. Wow, their CEO is going all in on this if he’s going for a music video in a foreign country. Just days ago he’d turned down an offer to record what could have been one of their biggest videos ever for their collaboration with Dua Lipa. Despite Jisoo’s initial doubts, it looks like those “scheduling conflicts” did actually exist, considering this unexpected announcement.
“That’s all for now. You’re dismissed.” Sajangnim goes back to shuffling his papers.
“Excuse me,” says Chaeyoung tentatively, as if she herself can hardly believe she has the guts to ask this, “Will the rest of us be releasing any music? As a soloist or as a group?”
YG stares at her; Jisoo thinks he genuinely hadn’t expected this sort of question. “That has not yet been decided. Of course, you will have your group comeback by some time next year, but continue with your rehearsals regularly for now, as we will not release until everything has been perfected.”
“I see.” Chaeyoung gets to her feet and bows too. “Thank you.”
The rest of them follow her lead. Jennie still seems stunned, but slowly Jisoo can see the enthusiasm settling in. Jennie has wanted this for a long, long time, she knows: before BLACKPINK debuted, ever since she left her education and life behind for an uncertain future in the industry. Even so, there’s also a measure of tightness in her stance: uncertainty over her bandmates’ opinions, Jisoo assumes.
Lisa is the first to speak on the elevator ride down. “I can’t believe it, unnie!” She claps her hands together and sends their main rapper a sincere smile. “I know you’ll do amazing.”
Some of the apprehension seeps out from Jennie’s shoulders. “Thanks, Lisa. But I wish it would’ve been a group comeback… I mean, we’re not fully established yet, and I feel like…”
“Don’t,” Jisoo interrupts as Jennie trails off, though she doesn’t feel like clarifying that command. “It’s okay, Jennie-ya. You’ve worked super hard for this. And it’s not like our comeback would have been anytime soon either way.”
Jennie nods, hesitantly, and glances at Chaeyoung as best as she can without making it too obvious. So do Lisa and Jisoo, with some amount of anticipation.
“Congratulations,” says Chaeyoung eventually, apparently oblivious to the scrutiny she’s under.
Jennie beams, and her joy bounces off the mirrors of the elevator and brightens the entire space.
----
As expected, Jennie is out of their dorm for most of the following few days, leaving early in the morning with their manager and only returning from the studio for dinner.
She’s been remarkably excited for the debut. Jisoo is only an observer, really, to the way her face lights up whenever she talks about the amazing new song she’s been recording (appropriately titled Solo); and also to the way Chaeyoung’s gets a little more strained each time she sits through another of Jennie’s animated speeches.
They perform at the SBS Super Concert later that week, and everything goes perfectly. Jennie’s spirits are higher than ever, and it shows. She dances with new energy, sings each note right on pitch, and raps her part in both songs without a hitch in breath.
Jisoo can’t help but be happy when Jennie’s happy. She finds herself grinning like an idiot when she lays her hand on the other girl’s chest during Ddu-du Ddu-du, and Jennie pushes back against her before snapping away in that slow roll. Tomorrow, Naver will go wild with photos of Jisoo, and fans will rave about how she’s never looked better; but for Jisoo’s part, she can’t take her eyes off Jennie right now.
(On a side note, Jisoo might be the only one who catches how Chaeyoung seems a little off at rehearsals. She’s fine during the live performance, but something about it all makes Jisoo uneasy.)
----
The morning after the concert, Jisoo gets up early to eat breakfast with Jennie, fussing over her hair and her scarf and her coat because it’s just so cold outside. Jennie giggles and bats her hands away lightly. “I’ll be fine , unnie, leave it," but still Jisoo worries and worries because it’s ingrained in her nature to protect this girl.
After the door swings shut behind her, Jisoo heads to the bathroom she and Chaeyoung share to brush her teeth, only to encounter the other in front of the mirror, violently combing her hair.
“What’s up?” Jisoo prods cautiously, though she knows the answer. “You’ve been acting, um, weird.”
“Have I?” Chaeyoung retorts, even as she slaps the brush down on the counter with more strength than necessary. “I can’t possibly imagine why.”
“Chaeng,” Jisoo says with a small sigh, “if this is about the solo, you and I both know that Jennie—”
“Why would I care about Jennie’s debut?” snaps the younger girl. “I mean, you said it yourself, she’s worked harder than all of us, so she deserves it the most, right?”
“I didn’t say that,” she protests.
Chaeyoung rolls her eyes. “Save it, unnie. We all know what you meant.”
Jisoo’s fingers misses the other girl’s arm by an inch as she storms out of the bathroom.
----
When Jennie comes home that evening, she looks bewildered to find only Jisoo sitting at the dinner table.
“Chaeng and Lisa already ate,” Jisoo explains. She heard them here earlier, arguing and banging pots and pans; it sounded like Lisa was trying to calm Chaeyoung down, but to no avail.
“Oh.” Jennie frowns down at the food Jisoo’s set out for her. “I know I’ve been… a lot lately. Sorry. It’s just exciting, yeah? I wasn’t trying to—”
“I know,” Jisoo says, focused on carefully pushing the plate towards the other girl. It’s hard for her to look directly at Jennie like this. “It’s okay. That’s not why; they were just hungry.”
“Oh.” Jennie picks up her chopsticks and taps them against the table absentmindedly. “That’s good.”
They don’t talk anymore after that, at least until Jennie’s finished her food and turns to Jisoo with confusion. “You’ve barely eaten anything, unnie!”
Jisoo didn’t, because she spent most of her time too distracted to eat and ended up just staring at Jennie. She had to glance away when Jennie’s shirt rode up a little as she reached over to retrieve the soy sauce, and now she thinks Jennie is the most beautiful thing she’s ever seen, even like this in a loose white tee hanging off her thin frame and with her hair tied up messily to keep it from getting into their dinner.
Jisoo doesn’t tell her any of that. Instead, she says, “Don’t rush me, Jendeukie! I eat slowly.”
“Since when?”
“Since forever,” she claims sagely. “Food is an art that should be appreciated fully. And that’s what I do.”
“You do not!” Jennie argues, but she’s biting her lip to keep the corners from turning up. Jisoo lets out a groan because she knows exactly what Jennie’s going to say next. “Remember that time we went out and you bought those chicken skewers? I wanted to ask you for one but you already—”
“Shh!” Jisoo stands up suddenly; the chair skids across the tile floor as she leans across the table, cutting Jennie off with a dramatic finger to her mouth. “No, I don’t remember, and it’s time to stop bringing that up every time we talk about food.”
Jennie swats her hand away, a glint of mirth in her eyes now. Jisoo could watch this version of her all day. “It’s your own fault for not eating!”
“Well, if it bothers you that much, you’ll just have to wait for me to finish, won’t you?” Jisoo pokes playfully at Jennie’s famously squishy cheeks with her pinky, before pulling back to sit down again.
To her surprise, Jennie stops her, catching Jisoo’s finger by hooking her own around it and grinning up at her. “What about this? Do you remember this?”
Jisoo’s heart jolts in her chest, then flutters faster than ever. How could she forget? Jennie had met her eyes, locked their fingers together, and chained Jisoo’s heart to hers with a simple promise to stay.
And now, now Jennie has that same kind of intensity in her gaze, and Jisoo— hopeless, pathetic Jisoo— can do nothing but say in her typically light-hearted manner, “Of course I remember, Jennie-ya. Now can you let go? Because my legs are getting tired.”
“Unnie!” Jennie huffs as she drops Jisoo’s hand, like she’s genuinely disappointed that the moment is ruined. Then, a few seconds later and a lot more urgently, she yelps, “Unnie! The gamjatang!”
Jisoo’s been unconsciously lowering her face towards Jennie’s this entire time. She looks down to discover that the hem of her light blue, expensive blouse is dipping into Lisa’s favorite orange soup.
Talk about ruining the moment. But a few feet away, Jennie’s bent double with laughter, so that’s that.
----
In the very beginning, it was the two of them who became friends first, sharing a room in a new and foreign world. And the night before one of their first evaluations, Jennie had clambered up on the edge of her bed when Jisoo was already half-asleep, with only the glow of the night light illuminating her face, and confided to her, “I’m scared. What if I’m bad? What if I fail?”
“You won’t,” Jisoo responded with a confidence in Jennie that only a sixteen-year-old could offer, even if she didn’t feel the same way about herself. She’d pushed aside the blankets, sitting up so Jennie could lean her head on her shoulder. “You’re the best one here. If anyone fails, it’ll be me.”
“Don’t say that.” Jennie turned over Jisoo’s hand from where it rested on her knee, tracing the lines on Jisoo’s palm with the tip of her pinky; it tickled. “I’m not better than you,” she’d insisted.
But Jisoo just shook her head and closed her fingers around Jennie’s, trapping it there for a moment before letting go. Jennie’s skin was soft, delicate against Jisoo’s and slightly cool from the winter air; it mysteriously struck Jisoo with the urge to do something ridiculous and childlike.
She slid her own pinky down Jennie’s and intertwined them. “How about this, then? We’ll both make it through. And if you don’t, well, neither will I.”
“Are you telling me we should stick with each other?” Jennie said it like she expected Jisoo to snicker at her, but she didn’t, and so neither of them spoke for a long while until she lifted her head off Jisoo’s shoulder and looked straight at the older girl. “Okay, then. Let’s stay together.”
Jennie ended up falling asleep in her bed that night, so Jisoo had pulled the blanket over them both and didn’t mind when Jennie snuggled closer.
----
There’s no point in denial. Jisoo’s in love with Jennie and she knows it.
So. She isn’t confused about whether or not she’s in love. The real question is, when did it happen? When did Jisoo’s feelings for the other girl cross over from friendship to this? What was the point in time when everything changed?
Jisoo thinks that it’s impossible to pinpoint a single moment. At most, she can only narrow it down, bring up memories she shared with Jennie and wonder, did I love her yet?
Here’s the best she can do: somewhere between their awkward trip together to the sauna and the night of the promise, as Jisoo likes to call it, she became best friends with Jennie. Sometime between then and now, she proceeded to fall in love with her best friend.
That’s a wide range of time, and maybe it’s because Jisoo fell slowly. Like, maybe for her, love wasn’t so much of a terrifying plummet, a free-fall with only one possible end. Jisoo fell like a girl with a parachute, a kite sinking through the air when the breeze could no longer hold it up, a cherry blossom drifting down from its tree at precisely five centimeters per second.
That doesn’t mean she’ll never hit the ground; it just means it’ll hurt less when she does. And that’s as good as it gets, Jisoo supposes.
Jennie is… well, it’s hard not to love Jennie. Jennie’s been right there by her side through everything and also happens to be one of the kindest, most caring people she knows. So for Jisoo, yeah, it’s hard— impossible, even— not to love Jennie.
She wishes she could say the same about the rest of the world.
Jennie has one of those faces that make the person behind them seem cold and unwelcoming, but she’s not like that. Jisoo’s told their fans this a couple times through interviews, but she still can’t believe how different Jennie is than she initially seemed.
Jisoo’s not saying Jennie’s perfect — she has her moments of irrationality and lashing out and overdoing the sarcasm— but who is? Jennie’s not perfect, but she’s so much better than anyone gives her credit for.
Jennie craves affection; Jisoo knows this from experience. Jennie likes to cuddle into her side at odd places and odd times, likes to link their arms together and lean her head on Jisoo’s shoulder. She’s seen the fan videos herself, recalls that one time at the airport when Jennie’d been a little too drained after a long flight and walked straight up to Jisoo to tuck her head into the place where the older girl’s collarbone curved into her neck, unflinching despite the examination of a hundred cameras.
Some of their fans think Jisoo should be the leader, purely because of the way the other members seek her out for comfort. Those fans probably also think Jisoo’s the strongest out of all of them; after all, she’s never, ever cried on live or recorded broadcast. In fact, it’s rare even for the members to see Jisoo in such a state. When asked, the maknaes had to think for several minutes before coming up with a lone instance where they’d witnessed her cry: it’d been after Jennie hurt her ankle during their Boombayah debut stage.
She’s not that sensitive about Jennie’s physical well-being— Jisoo has never doubted that she is capable of taking care of herself. But Jennie'd been so disappointed and convinced that the fans would scoff at an idol who messed up on their first stage, so Jisoo couldn’t help a few tears about it later, in the privacy of their dorm.
Jisoo doesn’t think she’s the strongest member of BLACKPINK. She thinks that distinction goes to Jennie, because Jennie is scared of literally everything but pushes past it all anyway.
Jisoo wishes the camera had caught her reaction when Jennie announced brazenly on Running Man that she wanted to take on the Horror Room challenge, because she’d mouthed, are you insane? at her friend. Jisoo simply did not comprehend why Jennie, who could barely hold a hedgehog without whimpering and cringing away, chose to be scared nearly out of her wits.
Still, the show’s cast had been right, Jennie is awfully cute when she cries. That is, when she’s crying because of something stupid and not huddled alone in her room with only Kai and Kuma for company.
Jisoo’s a bad friend. She never knows how to fix it when Jennie gets like that. Jisoo wishes she could go online and just tell all those idiots sitting behind the protection of a computer screen everything she’s been holding in for a while now: to think about the people they’re insulting so harshly. But she can’t. And she also can’t force YG to give them comebacks, which is the only other thing that can make Jennie truly cry.
But as Jisoo observed a few days ago— and this is the weirdest thing— Jennie isn’t as timid when it comes to their music. Consistently, she’s the only one out of the four of them who dares to pressure YG with questions about their next comeback.
Maybe it doesn’t accomplish anything. But maybe their CEO likes Jennie’s boldness, because the last time she traipsed up to his office for a meeting, he’d posted on his Instagram teasing their comeback.
The point is, such audacity seems totally out of character for someone like Jennie, and Jisoo isn’t sure the exact reason she becomes so brave. If she had to guess, she’d say it’s because Jennie loves music, loves singing and dancing and rapping on a stage enough to confront an intimidating CEO for its sake.
In a convoluted way, it works. If only the things Jisoo loves can make her cry, then shouldn’t it make sense that only the things Jennie loves can make her fearless?
----
Lunch the next day is another three-person event; Jisoo recalls that Jennie’s already finished recording and is now practicing the choreography for her new song. Meanwhile, Chaeyoung avoids any eye contact with her and Lisa picks at her food, clearly distressed.
It’s horrible, because today Chaeyoung’s going to a fashion event in the afternoon, Alexander McQueen or something, and Lisa’s second dance video is dropping as well. Today was supposed to be good by every definition of the word, and it’s shaping up to be the opposite.
BLACKPINK doesn’t have a leader, and Jisoo would never presume to occupy that position, but they clearly need one right now. So the second Lisa finally succeeds in impaling the last, elusive grain of rice on her extremely impractical fork, Jisoo gets to her feet, moving to block the doorway to the hall.
“Neither of you are leaving this room until we talk,” she says sternly. “What’s going on?”
“What do you mean, unnie?” Lisa looks anxiously at Chaeyoung for guidance. “Nothing’s going on.”
If Jisoo knew a more exasperated gesture than an eye roll, she would use it. “Maybe not with you. But I think Chaeyoung has something to say.”
“She doesn’t—” Lisa starts, but is almost instantly interrupted by the girl in question.
“Thanks, but I can talk for myself. You want to know what I think, Jisoo?”
“Yeah, I do.”
Chaeyoung shoves her hands into the pockets of her jacket. “I think it’s wrong. The solo.”
“Oh?”
“It shouldn’t even be happening! Why are we having one of our members debut solo right after our biggest comeback yet? We don’t even have a full album out as a group. It just doesn’t add up.”
Jisoo looks over at Lisa. “And you? Do you agree with her?”
“I, uh,” stutters Lisa, “it’s cool with me. Obviously I’d like a BLACKPINK comeback, but I don’t mind.”
Indignantly, Chaeyoung whirls to face her. “That’s not what you were saying earlier. You told me you think it’s unfair too!”
“Chaeng,” Lisa says, panic written plainly on her face, “don’t.”
“Don’t what , Lisa? Somebody has to say it.”
“I seriously don’t think you should—”
“No, let her,” Jisoo interrupts their two-way conversation. She crosses her arms and takes a step closer to Chaeyoung, but the other girl doesn’t back away. “I want to hear. Why’s the solo so unfair, huh?”
“Because it’s always Jennie!” the other girl bursts out. “Did you listen to him? They’re flying her to London to film a music video! We’ve never done that for our grand total of six music videos!”
“So what? Who cares where they film the video?”
“It’s not about where it is! Sajangnim already has it all planned out! And that’s so much of a difference from his plans for BLACKPINK. We’ve been preparing our next comeback for a month already, and he says we’re still not ready but gives Jennie a song to record immediately. She even has an idea of when it’ll actually be released. Ours ‘has not yet been decided,’ what bullsh—”
“Aren’t you happy for her?” Jisoo demands. “She would be for you! She’s your bandmate and your friend!”
“I am happy for her!” Chaeyoung rakes her fingers heatedly through her hair. “It’s not about Jennie, though. Don’t tell me you want to wait another goddamn year to release, what, four songs?”
“Guys,” Lisa interjects abruptly; her visage is painted with muted horror.
Jisoo has no time to deal with her. “I want a comeback too! But you don’t see me whining about—”
“Jisoo, admit it already! Sajangnim always liked her more than us. You of all people should know that; he barely gives you any promotion and I know how much you hate it!”
“Guys!” Lisa raises her voice over them. “Stop it!”
For a second time, she goes ignored. Both of them are breathing heavily now, one tense with pent-up resentment and the other with defensive anger. Jisoo glowers up at Chaeyoung. “That might be true, but it’s not Jennie’s fault. I’m not going to blame her for that and you shouldn’t either!”
“I know it’s not her fault, okay?!” Chaeyoung’s hands have been yanked out of her pockets and are clenched into fists at her sides. “Listen, I auditioned for YG six years ago because I wanted to release music for the whole world to hear. And so far, that’s not what we’ve been doing. We don’t even have ten songs, and at this rate we’ll break up before we release twenty!”
“Chaeyoung…” Jisoo says, softening. “I get it, I do. Just hang in there a bit longer.”
Chaeyoung shakes her head. “I can’t anymore, unnie. I can’t keep wasting time sitting around while Jennie’s off promoting a solo. It’s like, Sajangnim doesn’t think we’re as good as she is, and I don’t think that’s true. Don’t we all deserve it as much as Jennie? Or— or maybe even more ? But it’s going to be her anyway, and you know what, Jisoo, I hate it.”
“Guys,” Lisa repeats a third time into the pause before Jisoo can come up with a reply. Lisa barely exhales the word; it’s much, much softer than the last two, but somehow this is the one that finally draws their attention. She and Chaeyoung look away from each other, and that’s when they finally notice what Lisa’s been trying to tell them this entire time.
Jennie’s standing in the doorway that Jisoo had been blocking earlier, carrying two bags Jisoo recognizes from the nearby restaurant they sometimes eat at. She looks down at her hands mutely; she’s wearing gloves because Jisoo had pleaded incessantly until she finally agreed to put them on, and the straps have dug indentations into their fleecy material.
“You’re back early,” Jisoo points out unnecessarily as Jennie lowers the bags to the ground.
Jennie blinks back at her slowly and says nothing. Neither do the rest of them.
Out of nowhere, there’s a loud clang from their right; Lisa’s knocked one of the forks into the sink she’s leaning against. It seems to snap Jennie out of her trance, but when she speaks it’s still like she’s fighting to escape quicksand. “They told me to take a break for the rest of the day. I thought I’d… get some food for you guys, but it looks like you already ate.”
“Jennie,” Jisoo says her name helplessly. She considers taking a step forward, but her feet are firmly rooted to the ground. Besides, Jennie isn’t even looking at her.
Jennie whispers, “Chaeyoung-ah?”
“Unnie,” says Chaeyoung, inexplicably fascinated by a tile on the kitchen floor, “I didn’t mean—”
She stops herself there, because she meant every word and all four of them know it. “Sorry.”
“It’s— I— that’s okay, Rosie,” Jennie says faintly. Somewhere in the back of her mind, Jisoo notes the name change, because it means Jennie’s distancing herself, slipping into her public persona.
Jennie’s gaze darts down to the bags on the floor and then up at Jisoo this time. Her eyes are not quite dry. The room is frozen, but Jisoo feels uncomfortably hot, a sense of disquiet creeping up her spine.
Finally, Jennie breaks it, “You guys can eat it if— if you want to.”
She backs away, disappearing around the corner, and Jisoo knows her well enough that even without seeing her, she can tell by the almost-silence of Jennie’s footsteps on the hardwood floor that she’s trying not to run.
For a full fifteen seconds, nobody moves. Then Lisa tears herself from where she’s backed into the counter and, shooting Chaeyoung a look of reproach, sprints down the hall after Jennie.
“You shouldn’t have done that,” Jisoo says, turning back to Chaeyoung.
“There’s a lot of things people shouldn’t do.” Chaeyoung catches Jisoo’s glare deliberately, daringly, and there’s no subtlety in the way she words it, “But they do it anyway, right, unnie?”
Jisoo can’t stay here with her anymore. She heads after the other two, footsteps echoing off the corridor walls, and finds Lisa standing outside a locked door.
“Jennie!” Lisa yells, banging on the door, and it must be the fourth or fifth time she’s called the other girl’s name because her voice goes hoarse at the end of it. “Jen!”
There’s no answer, of course. In fact, there’s absolutely nothing: no sobbing from inside the room, no rustling of bedsheets, no signs of life at all.
Lisa lets her hands slide down the door and pivots on her heel, slumping back against the wooden frame. Pressing the heels of her hands into her eyes, she says, “Unnie, what do we do ?”
Jisoo has no answer for her.
----
Jennie doesn’t come out of her room for the rest of the day. Late that night, Jisoo raps her knuckles on the door and calls hopefully, “Jendeukie?”
But nobody answers and she meets only the resistance of the lock when she tries to turn the handle, so she leaves the dinner plate outside her door and backs away quietly.
Hours later, Jisoo peeks out of her bedroom and it’s still there, gone cold and untouched. She imagines Jennie hugging her pillow, scrolling past pink flower emojis on an instagram caption from a few days ago to come across black letters on a white screen spelling out, hate you, fake, disgusting, ugly whore.
----
Jisoo remembers an interview they’d given what feels like centuries ago, where the man had asked them, “What will you do in your 30s ?”
They’d all been chuckling at Lisa’s ridiculous response to the previous question, but that silenced them pretty quickly. Chaeyoung was the first to answer, “I hope I’ll continue making music.”
Jisoo doesn’t remember what she herself told the interviewer, but she does remember Jennie looking over at her and a slow smile spreading over her face as she said, “I hope I’m a step closer to happiness.”
They’re nowhere near their thirties yet, but look what those wishes have brought them.
----
Jisoo’s not going to try and argue that Jennie doesn’t get the most promotion out of the four of them, but it’s not a matter of favoritism. Jennie’s popular in Korea and that’s a fact; she only gets the gigs because companies ask for her. It’s not like YG went up to Cass Beer and commanded them to choose Jennie.
Anyway, she could go on all day about this but she won’t bother. It never makes a difference anyway.
Jisoo is, of course, firmly on Jennie’s side here. But she can see where Chaeyoung is coming from. And Jisoo can also tell her bandmate does feel bad about what happened, because in the middle of the night when she’d checked on the food left outside Jennie’s bedroom, she’d seen Chaeyoung outside her door. But their main vocalist had only stood there for several minutes before resting her head against it with a low groan of frustration and leaving without a single word.
This is all Jisoo’s doing. All she’d wanted was for the four of them to be a family, to talk it out. But if she hadn’t pushed Chaeyoung into that rant, if she’d just let the younger girl be , Jennie would never have walked in on them and Chaeyoung would have…
Would have what? Let her resentment simmer until it boiled over and scorched them beyond repair?
Jisoo doesn’t know. Maybe it was avoidable or maybe it wasn’t; either way, she’s grateful that both of her bandmates are far too cautious for any of their fans to notice the tension between them. Jisoo feels certain that come their next public appearance, they’ll act like nothing has happened at all.
That’s… not necessarily a good thing. But what it does mean is that nobody will start talking about how their friendships are “faked” or other similar drivel again. Which is utterly absurd, because it’s obvious to anyone with the slightest ounce of common sense that the four of them truly are close friends.
The problem is, even the best of friends get into arguments like this. The real test is whether or not they can get past it.
Jisoo really, really hopes they can.
----
The next morning Jennie is there like usual, bringing a spoonful of eggs listlessly to her mouth.
“Hey.” Jisoo sits down next to her and inches her chair nearer to Jennie’s. She’s not sure where to start. “You know Chaeyoung doesn’t actually blame you.”
Jennie swallows her last mouthful of breakfast with a strange sound, like a cross between a hiccup and a sob. “Okay. That doesn’t mean it’s not my fault.”
“Jennie-ya.” Jisoo takes Jennie’s left hand away from where she’s pressing it down into her thigh and cradles it in hers, uncurling each of her fingers one by one. Jennie’s grown her nails out long again, and now there’s deep scarlet crescents in her palm that match their polish. “What could you have done?”
She doesn’t reply. With her other hand, Jisoo brushes back the curtain of hair that’s fallen to shield the side of Jennie’s face and tucks it behind her ear to get a better view of her face. Jennie doesn’t look up at her. Jisoo can see only the corners of her eyes, and they too are red.
“Jennie-ya,” Jisoo murmurs again, moving close enough that their arms brush together. “It’ll be okay.”
“Will it?” Jennie says. Her voice doesn’t shake, but Jisoo can hear the devastation in it. “Can you really tell me that, Jisoo, that it’ll all be okay?”
This time, Jisoo is the one that doesn’t reply. Instead, she slides her hand out from underneath Jennie’s and rests in on top of the other girl’s so that their pinkies form a cross. But Jennie makes no move to curve her finger around Jisoo’s; in fact, she hardly reacts at all, and that’s what makes her realize that this is even worse than she originally thought.
“Unnie,” and Jennie’s voice is shaking now, “if Chaeng reacted like this, how do you think the fans will?”
Jisoo contemplates her choices. She could say, they won’t care , but that’d be an obvious lie; or it doesn’t matter , but that’d make no sense because the lives of idols like them are built around their fans; or lastly, no matter what I’ll be here for you , but in the end Jisoo— hopeless, pathetic Jisoo— says nothing.
Jennie withdraws her hand, drops her spoon in her bowl and carries both over to the sink, turning on the tap. Jisoo knows if she looked back, she’d see Jennie focusing intently on washing them clean as she says, “I know how they will. They’ll hate it. Me. Again. Did you know they have a— a hashtag just for that?”
Maybe she’s expecting an answer, but Jisoo doesn’t dare turn around and she imagines that Jennie isn’t facing her, either, when she continues, “Sajangnim is releasing info to the public tomorrow morning. I guess you can decide then if you think I deserve it, or if you hate it too.”
When Jisoo finally does look over her shoulder, all she sees is the silverware glistening on the rack, set out to dry. Jennie is long gone.
----
YG drops the news on some random, small-name website first, probably to test the waters. Nevertheless, the internet blows up immediately.
Jisoo wakes up early just to check her phone for it, and there Jennie is, splashed across the front page of every search engine and social network, trending worldwide and in thirteen different individual countries.
The reactions can be sorted into three major categories. First, there’s the minority: Jennie’s devoted fans who are thrilled by the announcement. Jisoo’s English still isn’t that good, despite what Jennie endlessly declares to the contrary, but she doesn’t need to read the all-caps posts feel their elation.
They’re followed by the conflicted ones, a group Jisoo thinks most Blinks probably fall into. They’ll support Jennie but wish that he’d give the entire group a comeback— written in much stronger words.
The last group is also a minority, but an extremely vocal one. Jisoo has no plans to repeat what they say, because it’s vile. And the worst part is that a lot of them claim to be fans.
They aren’t fans. If they were, Jennie would be here, slipping her arms around Jisoo’s waist from behind as the older girl slices furiously through this mango, each stroke of the knife thudding against the wooden cutting board that Jennie had insisted would match their dorm decor perfectly. Not tormenting herself by reading through Twitter and Instagram like Jisoo knows she is, too afraid to come out and face the world.
An eternity ago, even before the promise they’d made, she and Jennie sat in a sauna together, vulnerable and ducking each other’s gazes. Jisoo told Jennie, you’re going to make it , and she meant it.
So how can Jennie think that Jisoo could ever hate her for doing exactly that?
She’s so far off from the truth that it’s almost funny, but Jisoo isn’t laughing. Where’s the punch line, huh? When will it all finally be over?
One moment Jisoo’s scooping up the pieces of fruit onto her knife, so she can’t fathom why in the next, she’s wiping desperately at her eyes until the tears stop.
Jisoo doesn’t cry, after all. And besides, nobody wants to eat a salty mango.
----
An hour later, someone finally manages to lure Jennie out of her room, but it’s not one of them. It’s YG.
The four of them get the message at the same time, just like always. All BLACKPINK members , it reads, Urgent meeting with YG Ent. CEO. Your manager will pick you up in thirty minutes’ time.
Jisoo isn’t able to motivate herself into moving for over five minutes, but as the clock ticks closer, she manages to pull herself out of lethargy and get changed. When she finally steps out of her room, she can hear Chaeyoung and Lisa’s hushed mumbling to each other in the next. Jisoo doesn’t spare a minute to eavesdrop, opting to head straight through the kitchen and living room to stand outside of a familiar door.
Jisoo knocks. “Jennie?” If she doesn’t come out, Jisoo swears, she’s going to break down this door.
It seems like she’ll have to. But just as she’s about to leave to search for a screwdriver or anything to pick this goddamn lock, it clicks and the door flies open, crashing into the spring stop on the opposite wall and bouncing back towards its shut position, but it’s blocked from closing all the way.
Jennie emerges from the dimness of her room, where all the lamps are out. She glances at Jisoo, briefly, and for the first time in days there’s not a hint of tears there. Her face is inscrutable, peculiarly blank.
She’s got the same Chanel scarf wrapped around her neck as a week ago at the airport. Jisoo is reminded of the mask that had covered over half of her face, which she’d at one point reached up to adjust around Jennie’s ears, and realizes that even then she could read Jennie’s expression better than she can now.
Her hair is combed straight over her shoulders, a touch of lipstick hides any marks her teeth might have worried in, and her outfit is simultaneously elegant and lovely. Jennie is professional, composed, put together; Jisoo would go as far as to say that she looks perfect , even.
(but haven’t they already established that nobody, not even Jennie, is perfect; and if she’s so immaculate on the outside right now, then that means, that means there has to be a flaw Jisoo’s overlooked; a crack, a fracture, something missing maybe, inside—)
“Let’s go,” Jennie says quietly, sweeping past her. The hem of her shirt brushes by Jisoo’s hip, her foot skims across the side of Jisoo’s slipper ever so lightly, but in reality Jennie doesn’t touch Jisoo at all.
It terrifies her.