Archive of Our Own

“Bye, unnie! Bye Namjoo!” Hyoseong smacks obnoxious kisses on both of their cheeks as she flits out Yoonji’s studio door, a whirlwind of bright colours. Yoonji watches her go, a little bemused. The scent of her body spray lingers in the musty room and it’s - nice. Familiar.

Namjoo, who had been walking into the room just as Hyoseong was making her way out, closes the door behind her and edges in closer. Yoonji gestures towards the chair she keeps in the corner, rolling her eyes at Namjoo’s hesitance, and turns back to her screen.

“She doesn’t mean any harm, you know,” Namjoo says nervously as she pulls the chair towards Yoonji.

“What?” Yoonji looks up, confused. “Who doesn’t?”

“Uh, Hyoseong?” The look on Namjoo’s face says she thinks this should be obvious. Yoonji frowns.

“Of course not,” she says slowly. “It’s Hyoseong.”

“So it doesn’t … bother you?”

“What, that she’s a good person? Why would that bother me?”

Namjoo narrows her eyes.

“I can’t tell whether you’re doing this on purpose,” she says. “You really don’t care when Hyoseong goes out without you?”

“No,” Yoonji says honestly. “Do I look like the kind of person who wants to be invited out tonight?”

She gestures down at herself. She’s wearing a bucket hat, a face mask pulled down over her chin, stretched out leggings, and a giant plaid shirt with soy sauce spilled on the cuffs. The ensemble is not exactly club-going attire, because Yoonji is not exactly a club-going kind of girl.

Namjoo rubs at her chin.

“I just kind of thought …” she trails off, eyes darting around the room. She licks her lips, a telltale sign that she’s nervous.

“You thought what, Namjoo,” Yoonji says. She honestly doesn’t have time for this. Namjoo didn’t even bring her any coffee.

“That you guys were like … you know,” Namjoo says.

Yoonji levels her with her most unimpressed glare.

“What are you, twelve?” she asks. “Say what you mean, Namjoo-yah.”

“I thought you guys were like… a thing.”

“We’re not,” Yoonji says, matter-of-fact, because it is a fact. She and Hyoseong aren’t a thing. They never have been, not the way Namjoo’s implying.

Namjoo stares at her, clearly having trouble processing this.

“Wait, really?”

“Really,” Yoonji says dryly. “Are we done talking about this? I have actual work to do. Either help me or get out.”

“Right,” Namjoo says awkwardly, cheeks pink with embarrassment. She clears her throat. “Work. Let’s just … do that.”

Yoonji stares back at her.

“Yes,” she says slowly. “Let’s.”

“Have you talked to Namjoo recently?”

“No, why?”

Yoonji squints over at where Hyoseong is sitting on the other end of the couch. Her eyes are burning from staring at her laptop screen for the past hour, and Hyoseong’s face looks a little blurry.

“I think she and that guy broke up. Yunho? Soonho? You know who I mean.”

They grimace in unison. Yoonji knows exactly who Hyoseong means, and she wishes she didn’t. For as long as Yoonji has known her, Namjoo has exclusively dated older guys who treat her like garbage and then praise her for her maturity, like putting up with their shit is some great test of personal strength. As far as Yoonji’s concerned, the real sign of maturity would be never giving them the time of day in the first place.

“You know she’s not gonna want to talk to me about it,” Yoonji points out. Namjoo never talks about her love life with anybody, choosing instead to deeply internalize things until they resurface as song lyrics months after the fact. Sometimes even years after, if she’s really fucked up about it. Yoonji respects her process. Hyoseong finds it infuriating.

“Well, she definitely won’t talk to me,” Hyoseong says, frowning a little.

She’s not wrong. Namjoo is even weirder about talking to Hyoseong about her personal life than she is with Yoonji. Jimin’s probably their best bet, because she’s the most sympathetic and Namjoo’s always been weak for her. Yoonji says so, and the corners of Hyoseong’s mouth turn downwards.

“You’re probably right,” Hyoseong agrees, somehow managing to look deeply concerned and profoundly irritated at the same time. She sighs, twitching her head to flick her hair out of her eyes. “I just don’t understand why she’s always doing this.”

Which is, Yoonji thinks, exactly why Namjoo will never talk to Hyoseong about it. Hyoseong has an impressive ability to swerve around any type of romantic entanglement whatsoever; she doesn’t even really make friends outside of work. Even when she goes out, it’s usually with Jimin or Jeonghwa. Namjoo, on the other hand, seems to be constantly seeking some kind of external validation, and she’s constantly getting burned because of it.

“Men,” Hyoseong mutters, sounding uncharacteristically sour. “They’re never worth the trouble.”

Yoonji snorts in agreement.

“You’re telling me.”

Hyoseong laughs, then, reaching over to slap Yoongi’s arm. Her whole face brightens up, as easy as anything. Yoonji’s never understood that about Hyoseong: how her bad moods can turn around so quickly. When Yoonji gets in a funk she’s there for days, a bitter dark cloud, but it never stops Hyoseong from shining beside her.

“We’ll never be that stupid, right unnie?” Hyoseong says into the comfortable quiet of the room, smiling at Yoonji conspiratorially.

Yoonji shifts on the couch so they’re facing each other fully.

“Never,” she says, trying to keep her voice light. She means it, maybe more than Hyoseong knows.

When Jimin falls at practice it sends everyone into a panic, a sharp disruption in the group’s work-practice-sleep-repeat routine. Jimin hits the ground hard and Jeonghwa cackles, at first, not understanding what’s happened.

She stops laughing when Jimin doesn’t get back up.

Soojin is the first to rush over, holding Jimin’s head in her lap until Jimin wakes up, groggy and confused about why she’s on the floor. Namjoo has her phone out a moment later, calling a manager, and Hyoseong grabs Jeonghwa from behind to try to keep her calm, wrapping her up in a tight hug.

When Yoonji remembers it later she’ll regret just standing there, useless, staring at Jimin on the floor. She doesn’t even try to help Taehee, who’s watching the whole thing in mute horror.

Soojin and Namjoo insist on escorting Jimin to the hospital, voices loud and frightened, even as Jimin protests loudly that she doesn’t need to go, that it was nothing, that she’ll be fine.

Hyoseong watches as the three of them limp out the door, eyes troubled, before she turns to the remaining three and claps her hands together sharply.

“Okay! Let’s keep going, yeah? We’ll check on Jimin when we go home.”

She’s impressively composed as she tries to get Jeonghwa and Taehee to focus, even if she’s not very successful.

They only manage to get about 45 more minutes of practice in before Taehee blurts out an I can’t do this and leaves the room in a flurry, door slamming behind her. Jeonghwa watches her, eyes wide, before turning slowly to face Hyoseong.

Hyoseong, who Yoonji can tell is dangerously close to losing it, even as she’s still forcing a brittle smile onto her face.

“Yah, Jeonghwa,” Yoonji says, startling both of them into looking over at her. “Let’s go pick up food for everyone, yeah? I think we could all use it. Hyoseong will meet us back at the apartment.”

Jeonghwa nods, slowly. She still looks skeptical but she follows Yoonji out, the two of them walking to the car in silence.

The quiet stays with Yoonji and Jeonghwa as the car takes them to pick up jjajangmyeon, the two of them waiting inside as their manager parks and runs in to get the order.

“Is Jimin-unnie gonna be okay?” Jeonghwa asks, finally, voice very small, when the car rounds the corner to pull up to their building. Yoonji takes a deep breath, and tries to project confidence.

“Yes,” she says firmly. “She’ll be fine. And she’ll feel even better when she sees what we brought her for dinner, yeah?”

Jeonghwa nods, gathering up the takeout bags to carry them inside.

Jimin’s already lying down when they get in, Taehee apparently tucked into bed with her, but Soojin and Namjoo tear into the food like two sharks who just smelled blood. Yoonji watches fondly as they thank Jeonghwa for thinking to pick up dinner, their mouths stuffed full. Jeonghwa accepts the praise with a shy smile like it was all her idea.

Later, when Soojin has fallen asleep on the floor next to Jimin and Yoonji is alone in their room, there’s a knock at the door.

“Come in,” she croaks. The door creaks open to reveal Hyoseong, looking small in her favourite pair of green sweatpants. Yoonji frowns, concerned. She’d figured Hyoseong would want to stay with Jimin.

“Hi,” Hyoseong whispers, hovering in the doorway, uncharacteristically shy.

“Hobi,” Yoonji whispers back. “Come here.”

Hyoseong crawls into the bed next to her, which is. Different. They don’t usually do this. Yoonji sits on Hyoseong’s lap, sometimes, and Hyoseong cuddles up next to Yoonji and pinches her cheeks, but their rooms are separate. Private, even if they’re technically shared.

There’s a heavy, weighted silence. Even with the lights turned off Yoonji can see Hyoseong thinking, mouth pinched and a deep wrinkle in her forehead.

“Do you think it’s my fault,” Hyoseong whispers, finally, not meeting Yoonji’s eyes.

“What?” Yoonji blinks, taken aback. “No. Hyoseong-ah, no. It’s nobody’s fault.”

Yoonji’s not sure she actually believes herself. She feels pretty responsible, too, but Hyoseong doesn’t need to know that. Hyoseong doesn’t need to know about the sick feeling of guilt that’s been heavy in Yoonji’s stomach since the dead weight of Jimin’s body hit the practice room floor.

Yoonji and Jimin are on the same diet. Yoonji knew Jimin was sneaking back to the studio late at night to get in some extra practice, but she never thought of it as something dangerous.

“I wasn’t paying attention,” Hyoseong says in a small voice, interrupting Yoonji’s circular thoughts before they can pull her in too deep. “I should have been paying attention.”

“You couldn’t have known,” Yoonji says, reaching out to rub Hyoseong’s arm. “But we’ll all be more careful now, yeah?”

There’s another pause, and then -

“Soojin-unnie said she doesn’t get her period anymore,” Hyoseong blurts out in a rush, like she can’t help herself. “I didn’t think it was a big deal when she told me, but now … ”

The guilty weight in Yoonji’s stomach gets even heavier. She swallows around a sudden lump in her throat.

“It’ll be okay,” she whispers, hoping Hyoseong can’t tell she’s lying through her teeth. “We’ll all be okay. I’ll talk to her about it tomorrow.”

Yoonji doesn’t think it’ll make a difference. She doesn’t know if she’s the right person to talk to Soojin. She doesn’t know if Soojin will be willing to listen, or if Soojin even needs to listen. Yoonji doesn’t know a lot of things right now.

“Okay,” Hyoseong says. She still sounds so small.

“You’re so good,” Yoonji forces herself to say, even as her cheeks burn at the honesty. “We’re so lucky to have you, Hyoseong-ah.”

“We’re so lucky to have you,” Hyoseong responds, reaching out to pinch Yoonji’s cheek. It’s pretty half-hearted but Yoonji appreciates the sentiment, even as she bats Hyoseong’s hand away.

“Just go to sleep, okay?” Yoonji whispers. “It’ll be better in the morning.”

And it is, sort of.

Jimin looks a little pale, and Jeonghwa tiptoes around her all morning like she’s some type of important museum artifact instead of their irritating bandmate, but then Jimin yells at everyone to stop staring and Soojin cracks a joke about how they should be staring at her instead and Yoonji rolls her eyes so deeply she can feel it in her skull, and after that it really is better.

It’s better, even though Hyoseong still looks fragile and worried. Even though Yoonji keeps staring at Soojin when no one else is looking, thinking about what Hyoseong said the night before.

It’s better, because Jimin laughs when Soojin puts Jeonghwa in a headlock for no apparent reason, yelling at her to apologize as Jeonghwa laughs so hard she cries. Because Taehee stumbles out of Jimin and Hyoseong’s room a moment later, hair a tangled mess, and drapes herself across the back of the couch to start filming the chaos before her eyes are even all the way open.

Because Hyoseong smiles at Yoonji from across the kitchen when she wraps her arms around Jimin’s shoulders to press kisses across all over her cheeks, making baby noises as Jimin squirms and laughs harder.

Yoonji smiles back, and feels the ache in her chest start to recede.

“I just worry about you, that’s all. My little girl, all alone in the big city. How are you supposed to meet somebody when you’re working all the time? You’re getting older now, you know.”

Her mother’s voice is muffled through her phone’s speaker, a rustling sound in the background like she’s doing something else while she talks. Cleaning, probably, or doing the dishes.

Yoonji takes a deep breath.

“I’m not a carton of milk, Mom,” she says patiently, even though in her worst moments she does kind of feel like one. Like spoiled milk, sour and undesirable. “I don’t have an expiration date.”

“I know, Yoonji-yah. I’m sorry. I don’t mean to nag, you know I’m very proud of what you’re doing.”

“I know you are,” Yoonji mumbles into the phone. Soojin is frantically hitting her keyboard on the other side of their bedroom, the loud clacks giving Yoonji the illusion of privacy. Like most things Soojin does, what was once profoundly irritating is now familiar and strangely soothing.

“I love you. Take care of yourself, okay? Make sure those girls are all eating well. And give Hyoseong a kiss for me.”

Yoonji smiles a little, her irritation melting away. Her mom always says the same thing, every time she hangs up. She loves Hyoseong. It’s one of the few things they have in common.

“I will. I love you too, Mom. Good night.”

She hangs up the phone and lies back on her bed, sighing deeply. Soojin’s keyboard noises pause. A moment later her head pokes out from around the shelf that divides the room in half.

“Everything okay with Mom?”

“Yeah,” Yoonji says faintly. “Everything’s okay with Mom.”

“I’m taking Jeonghwa for dinner at my parents’ house this weekend, do you want to come?” Soojin asks, voice kind.

“Nah, I’m good,” she says. “Thanks, though.”

“You’re sure? They’ll be happy to see you, I swear. You know my mom loves a challenge.”

Yoonji snorts out a laugh.

Soojin’s mom is obsessed with trying to cook a meal delicious enough to make Yoonji react when she eats it. It’s a running joke that will never reach its punchline, because they both know that Yoonji is never going to eat as well as Soojin. Soojin makes delighted noises and ridiculous, exaggerated faces when she eats, smacking her lips as she sings praises to the cook.

Yoonji, on the other hand, eats like a disgruntled ahjussi, shovelling down whatever’s put in front of her without any particular opinions about any of it.

“I’m sure,” she says.

Soojin pauses, frowning a little.

“And you’re sure you’re okay?”

“Yes,” Yoonji says, rolling her eyes even though she knows Soojin means well. “I’m really sure. We’re doing a lot better.”

Soojin has the right to ask, because she was there when every call home had Yoonji shaking with rage, fuming silently, clinging tightly to the anger because it felt like that was all she had.

But it really is better, now. They’ll never see eye to eye, but her mother loves her. She raised Yoonji, took care of her the best way she knew how. Even now, with Yoonji so far away, she still tries to take care of her. Yoonji’s difficult, sure, but she’s not so sullen that she can’t acknowledge that.

When they first meet, they’re skinny and hungry and desperate. Hyoseong follows her around everywhere, wide-eyed, in awe like Yoonji is something impressive. Something worthy.

Hyoseong still has braces, and she’s insecure about her nose. She complains about it all the time until Yoonji tells her to stop, one afternoon as they’re eating lunch. Yoonji mutters your nose is just as pretty as the rest of you at the tabletop, inexplicably embarrassed and too awkward to make eye contact with Hyoseong as she says it. When she finally gathers the courage to look up, Hyoseong is blushing just as hard as Yoonji, her pretty cheekbones stained pink.

And Hyoseong is pretty, blessed with a grace that Yoonji knows she’ll never achieve. Where Hyoseong is all delicate wrists and sparkling eyes, Yoonji resembles nothing so much as steamed mandu - in both shape and colour. Her middle school classmates used to call her “pudding cup,” and they weren’t really wrong. Hyoseong isn't actually that much taller than her, but when they stand next to each other Yoonji feels small, and kind of round.

That’s not so weird, Yoonji doesn’t think. Lots of girls compare themselves to each other: it’s basically all Jimin ever does. What probably is weird is how much Yoonji likes it. Yoonji likes when Hyoseong reaches out with a bony finger to prod at her cheeks. She likes when Hyoseong coos at her and calls her the cutest unnie. It’s embarrassing, sure, and Yoonji always growls and swats Hyoseong away, but.

She likes it.

“Are you doing okay?” Yoonji asks after a moment of prolonged silence, both of them staring out into the water as their fishing rods stubbornly refuse to move.

“Like, right now?” Soojin squints into the distance, like she’s really thinking about it. “I kind of have to pee, but I’ll make it.”

Yoonji huffs.

“Like, in general,” she grumbles, irritated at Soojin for being so willfully obtuse, even though Yoonji is exactly the same when anyone asks how she’s doing. Worse, usually. “Are you doing okay in general.”

Are you eating? Are you taking care of yourself?

Yoonji doesn’t say it, but she thinks Soojin knows what she means. Soojin usually hears Yoonji, even if she likes to pretend she doesn’t.

“Aww, Yoonji,” Soojin coos, obnoxious as ever. “Are you worried about me?”

Yoonji wrinkles her nose, scowling.

“Whatever,” she mutters. “Forget I said anything.”

Soojin looks over at her, then, silent and assessing. There’s a moment of quiet, comfortable even as Yoonji braces herself for whatever ridiculous shit Soojin will come up with next.

Soojin surprises her, though. She’s good at that.

“It’s been hard,” she says, finally. Her voice is quiet, the way it only gets when she lets herself be vulnerable. “I think it’s getting better, but. It’s been hard.”

Yoonji nods.

“I’m proud of you, unnie,” she says quietly. “I want you to be happy.”

“Yah! What is this,” Soojin laughs, a transparent effort to distract from the way her eyes have started to glisten. Her nose is pink. “What about you, huh? Are you happy, Yoonjichi?”

Yoonji can’t help smiling, closing her eyes and turning her head back to face the water.

She thinks about their rows of trophies, all those shining accomplishments. Yoonji had joked, once, that they should put Hyoseong up on the shelf too. Hyoseong had just laughed, threatening to put Yoonji in the box with all her stuffed toys in her studio in retaliation. You’d fit right in, unnie! So small and cute! I need to keep you safe!

Yoonji had scowled, trying to look unimpressed, but she knows Hyoseong saw right through it. She always does.

“I’m happy, unnie,” she says quietly, now.

“Well, then,” Soojin says, voice firm. “We’re both okay and we’re both happy, so we can move right along, right? Nothing to worry about here!”

Yoonji snorts a laugh, jiggling her fishing rod.

“Except starving to death, maybe,” she says. “If none of these fish bite.”

“Nah,” Soojin waves her hand carelessly. “Did you see that restaurant we passed on the way in? You can starve all you want, but I’m eating steak tonight.”

Yoonji looks at her a moment, like if she stares hard enough she’ll be able to see what’s inside, to tell if Soojin’s really okay.

“You’re buying,” Yoonji says, finally, nestling back into her chair and laughing at Soojin’s indignant squawk.

“What about in ten years? When we’re not in the group anymore?”

“Don’t let Jimin hear you say that,” Yoonji says dryly, but then she pauses. Thinks about it. “Unnie will be there for you then, too. However long you need me.”

Yoonji looks away as she says it, but she can feel Hyoseong’s startled gaze land on her. Hyoseong laughs, a little incredulously.

“Even when we’re both married old ladies?”

Yoonji’s laugh echoes Hyoseong’s as she finally looks up, but it’s quieter. Flatter.

“Hyoseong-ah. You know that’s not gonna happen for me,” she says softly.

Yoonji doesn’t look away, not even when she sees the look on Hyoseong’s face. Hyoseong looks confused, but underneath it there’s concern, too. Like she’s worried about Yoonji.

Yoonji’s cheeks burn.

“You won’t be alone, though,” Hyoseong says. “Right?”

“How could I be?” Yoonji waves her arm at the studio around them, at her recording equipment. “I’ll always have this.”

She means the music, mostly, but it’s not lost on Yoonji that her sweeping gesture includes Hyoseong, too.

“Well, then,” Hyoseong says, sounding determined. “I’ll set up a studio in my spare bedroom and you’ll come live with me. Cute little auntie Yoonji.”

Yoonji stares at her.

“Sope forever.” Hyoseong tries to say it seriously, but she breaks almost immediately and starts smiling instead. She’s never been able to hold a straight face.

Yoonji loves her so much.

“Sope forever,” Yoonji repeats, narrowing her eyes as she holds up one hand to make a solemn finger heart. Hyoseong cackles, grabbing at her chest like she’s been shot and collapsing back onto the couch.

They’re still like that, Hyoseong snorting into the couch cushions while Yoonji fights back her own matching smile, when Namjoo comes bumbling into the studio a minute later.

“You guys are so weird,” Namjoo says, after a moment, looking bemused from where she’s still standing in the doorway.

Yoonji meets Hyoseong’s eyes, sparkling with laughter, and knows what Hyoseong’s going to say before she even opens her mouth.

“Sope forever,” they chorus, Hyoseong’s voice loud and piercing while Yoonji’s stays completely deadpan.

Namjoo rolls her eyes, coming to sit between them on the couch.

“Are we gonna get any work done here, or what?”