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Nayeon bends down slowly, muscles still sore from dancing, to pick up her phone. Before she can unlock it, an incoming call alert flashes across the screen and she answers. A voice pipes up. “Nayeonnie!” It’s unmistakably Jihyo’s, but the nickname sounds foreign coming from her. “How are you?”
“Jihyo-ya.” Nayeon responds back, less energetic but affection still lacing each syllable. “I’m okay. Things have been a little hectic lately, but when are they not?” She wipes the sweat from her forehead with a towel. “It feels like I haven’t had a moment to breathe until now.”
“It’s always one thing or another,” Jihyo agrees. “It could be worse, though; maybe next time the world will end.”
Nayeon grins sardonically. “That’s hoping for too much.” She wonders if that hasn’t already happened. “Is there any particular reason for you to be calling me?”
“I- um, well…” Jihyo fumbles with her words for a second, clearly looking for a good excuse for her call.
After realizing the tone that was couched in her question, Nayeon’s eyes widen as best they can (for someone as tired as she is) and winces, “I mean— oh, screw it. You know I didn’t mean it that way.”
Nayeon could almost hear Jihyo blink on the other end before quickly brushing off the comment. “I was just wondering how you were holding up. We haven’t talked in a while and I’ve missed you. It’s been, what?” Jihyo pauses to consider. “A month since we last saw each other?”
Nayeon pushes off from the wall she was leaning against to stand up straight. “I miss you too, Jihyo.” For a second, Nayeon considers telling her how much she misses Jihyo. How much she misses talking to her. How many times she’s turned around to tell Jihyo something she’d thought of and realized that Jihyo isn’t there. How many times she’s tried to do something spontaneous and crazy, but no one joined in on the joke. Nothing is familiar to her anymore.
The days seem to blur to the point where she can’t tell when was yesterday and the times when Nayeon feels lonely don’t seem too distinct from the times she’s surrounded by her friends.
She blames herself for being unable to feel anything, even now. “Listen, I have to go; they’re calling me.” Nayeon lies. “Let’s meet up for lunch sometime, okay? With Jeongyeon and maybe the other girls.” She lowers the phone and sighs.
“Oh. Okay. Talk to you soon?” Jihyo’s distant voice sounds hurt and Nayeon feels like a jerk, but she feels too helpless and miserable herself to even try to carry on a conversation in her current state.
“Mhmm.” Jihyo gives a reluctant goodbye and Nayeon listens for the beep signaling Jihyo has hung up. In the corner of the practice room, she haphazardly drops to the floor and slumps against the wall like a marionette with its strings cut. Nayeon’s grateful the other members had gone ahead of her a couple minutes earlier so they can’t see her right now.
Jihyo was lying, of course. She’s never been one to try to make other people feel bad about themselves, but right now, it’s all Nayeon can do to keep her head above the flood of guilt that washes over her. Two months. It’s been two months and three days since they had last talked. There’s no way Jihyo could have forgotten so easily the day TWICE’s eight members were chosen. The moment the last member was called and it wasn’t Jihyo who JYP called up to the stage.
Being the first member of TWICE to be announced, Nayeon thought it was a given that Jihyo would join her soon. Even though she was already crying throughout the entire revealing, she still did her best to focus on what was happening. The next name was called and Jihyo was not there, then the name after that and Jihyo was also not there. Four more including Jeongyeon, whom she’d also been hoping for just as much, and Jihyo was still not there.
While originally planning to debut a seven-member group, JYP, at the behest of the audience, increased the number to eight members: two singers, two visuals, two rappers, and two dancers. Each aspect of an idol group twice. When Nayeon considered that Sana would likely be a visual along with Tzuyu, Nayeon knew that the last member had to be a dancer. That left Chaeryoung or Somi. But maybe Jihyo could pass for one of the lead dancers? She once was slated to be their main dancer back in 6MIX. Her weight had never been a problem before SIXTEEN and she’d be able to make her movements as clean as any other member if they’d just give her time. And what was a couple episodes of some dumb show compared to all the years she’s given her very best for this? Please, she pleaded internally, just give her time.
Instead, JYP had done the unexpected again by bringing back Momo and that was the last chance Nayeon had to debut with Jihyo. The first time because of the other members leaving and this time because of too many joining. Why couldn’t life ever work out the way it was supposed to? Jihyo was supposed to debut with Nayeon and Jeongyeon after being together for so long. Nayeon and Jeongyeon both cried together after the final lineup of Twice was revealed in a mix of pain and joy. After the induction ceremony, they couldn’t get into contact with Jihyo, who for once was too ashamed to let other people see her cry.
Looking back, she didn’t think enough about what Jihyo must have been going through. God, did she try her best to think about it enough and not without renewed tears, but she was also happy for herself and the other members. It appeared as though the other girls who weren’t selected in the final round simply were too young to debut with those who were selected — except for Jihyo, the eldest of the five and the one with the most time spent training of all the contestants. How could this hurt for anyone more than Jihyo? Loving, hardworking Jihyo. Nayeon couldn’t imagine the kind of disappointment and shame Jihyo must have felt to go back to her family and friends who had supported her so long and tell them that, once more, she missed an opportunity to debut. That, once more, she would have to continue to practice and wait and hope another opportunity would present itself to her. If Jihyo were a member, she’d be the very middle in age at eighteen years old, a perfect age to debut. If Nayeon, being the eldest, didn’t make it, at least she had already been accepted into Konkuk and could pursue her film major. The younger ones, too, had many options and endless potential to benefit more from the mere experience of SIXTEEN rather than being thrown into the perpetual spotlight at such a young age. But becoming an idol is Jihyo’s life. What else does she have if not all those years of training?
Nayeon knows there’s more. There has to be more to life than getting to debut, but maybe a combination of her gratefulness at being part of Twice and spite towards the unfairness that’s befallen Jihyo makes her unable to imagine Jihyo deserving of anything less than being able to debut as well.
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Jihyo takes a seat at an empty cafeteria table and makes a sweeping gaze over the area. Even if the layout is the same and most of the people there seem familiar and friendly, Jihyo can’t convince herself that this is the same building she’s lived in for almost her whole life, not just because she’s alone now without having Jeongyeon or Nayeon around. Jihyo had been living in the Major and Minor dorms while she was a part of the survival show and had been away from the company the entire time.
After SIXTEEN, Jihyo and the other girls who didn’t make the cut were given leave from training in order to recover from the harrowing experience. For the first two weeks of her vacation, she had even taken time off from school because she was so inconsolable at the time. Afterwards, she fell into a routine of drudging off to school, coming home, and worrying about the future. She would’ve locked herself in her room the entire time if her family didn’t beg her to spend time with them: shopping, cooking, and even hiking, besides having meals together. Jihyo knew she could’ve been in a far more somber state if not for her family.
Because of preparations for 6MIX and the aftermath of SIXTEEN almost immediately following, Jihyo wonders how she’ll ever fall back into the routine of trainee life. The training isn’t so bad. In fact, she loves it. What kills her is the idea of having monthly evaluations again, as if she hasn’t proven anything yet after Miss A, 6MIX, and now TWICE. Jihyo doesn’t think of herself as better than anyone else, but she also doesn’t want to believe all the time spent on her was for nothing. When she thinks of Mina who hadn’t been training more than a year before getting selected, Jihyo can’t help but consider whether the benefits of being trained towards one goal is worth all the opportunities and experiences she’s missed.
As her mind wanders, Jihyo’s eyes do as well and she happens to make eye contact with the last person she wanted to see: JYP. She does her best to reel in her fears and smile. Whether for better or worse, the older man smiles back in kind and walks over to her table, evidently having just made up his mind on who he was going to eat lunch with today.
“It’s been awhile.” Jihyo’s the one who starts, trying to give her biggest smile to compensate for her nerves.
JYP starts as if to reply, but he takes one look at Jihyo’s plate and frowns. “Did you eat earlier? There’s hardly anything on your plate.”
“I—” not expecting the topic of conversation to go straight to her ongoing diet, Jihyo falters and looks down. She can still feel JYP’s stern gaze on her. Ever since she joined JYP Entertainment at eight years old, she’s always been the baby of the company. Even JYP himself Jihyo counts as one of the many culprits of this treatment. It reminds her that whatever happened on SIXTEEN can’t rival the way JYP has cared for her all this time. “I promised I’d go on a diet, remember? You’re the one who told me I need to take care of myself. During the show.”
JYP winces, but what did he honestly expect? “That was during the show. You don’t have—“
Please don’t say it. Please don’t say it.
“Any… schedules… at the moment.” He minces his words, but they unequivocally do their damage anyway. She’s doing her best to keep in her grief, but a few audible sniffles escape her. “That isn’t necessarily a bad thing! Everyone needs time to rest, and the more time you have before getting busy is all the more time to prepare for when you will be.”
“You say that like I haven’t had all the time in the world to prepare. Haven’t I rested enough?” Before she can wipe a nascent tear from her eye, JYP grabs her hand and squeezes it in both of his own, running his thumb over the back of her hand like he did when she was younger and in a similar state of anxiety about the future.
“It’s not the end of the world. Everything happens for a reason. I didn’t debut until my 20s and look at you. You’re only 18 and have an entire life of training under your belt. I studied geology, Jihyo-ssi. Geology!” The pressure on Jihyo’s hand lightens for a moment and Jihyo sees Park Jin-Young looking away, very solemnly staring into space. She hears him whisper again the word “geology” to himself as if in disbelief. “In your case,” he refocuses and begins again. “I’d say I have a pretty good idea what that reason is.”
Jihyo smirks and feigns a groan. “Don’t tell me you’re doing another survival show.”
JYP laughs at this and shakes his head, amused by her sudden sassiness. “With all the controversy of SIXTEEN? I think I’ll hold off on doing that again for a bit. We’ll have to see what happens with Twice, won’t we?”
“You say that like the girls’ future success will be all thanks to the show.”
“No. Not so much. But, if they fail, I’ll take full responsibility. The same goes for you.” JYP’s gaze hardens. “I’ll take responsibility if you fail.” Jihyo’s about to give a self-loathing riposte about how that’s already happened before JYP shushes her. “And you haven’t. Remember when we talked after the last concert?”
Jihyo blushes at the memory of herself burying her face in her mother’s dress and then feeling a tap on the back of the head. When she looked up, her mother indicated that Park Jin-Young wanted to talk to Jihyo. Reluctantly, she left the comfort of her mother’s embrace and walked backstage with her head low like an old dog about to be shot. “You told me I didn’t have to come back if I didn’t want to.” And not without a fair amount of coolness that let her know it wasn’t just some nicety. He genuinely meant it and Jihyo didn’t know how she could forgive him for meaning it.
“And yet here you are. That’s more than enough for me. You trusted me enough to stay with us for a whole 10 years, so give me the chance to do the same.”
“What are you trying to say?” Jihyo asks skeptically.
“I’m saying that your schedule right now is going to look a lot different in the upcoming days.”
Hearing those words come from JYP fuels her with hope. This definitely wasn’t what she was expecting when she finally returned from her vacation. “What about the other girls, though? The other girls from SIXTEEN. None of them have left, either.” Jihyo asks, guilty that she’s receiving such preferential treatment from the man who can decide whether someone at this company will debut or not. Will get their chance to become a celebrity or not, meet thousands of fans or not, produce music to share with the world or not. And here he is practically ensuring her success. Even if she did spend all those years at the company, she can’t say she’s always been committed to this dream, attached by an unconditional love for the craft. Since she had started at such a young age, her staying in the company has been more than just a habit. It’s been her lifestyle and the end of all her efforts. It’s as if Park Jin-Young chose to reward a bird for wanting to fly or a fish who tried its best to swim. Because it’s all she’s done, Jihyo doesn’t believe she’s good at anything else. She doesn’t want to be good at anything else. Granted, that may have been the company’s fault for ingraining this ethic into Jihyo at an age when she’d no idea what she was getting into, but Jihyo’d sooner jump off a cliff than abandon it now. And she’d be lying if she didn’t admit there were certain people at the company that have made it all worthwhile; JYP should know. He’s one of them. So she doesn’t feel like she deserves to be treated differently, at least not on account of anything like passion for something she can’t help love or faith in a dream she can’t not believe in.
Park Jin-Young sighs. “Let me choose who I want to help. You worry about working diligently towards your dreams.”
Oh. Jihyo feels her cheeks burn up as she realizes her place. For a second, she forgot all about being diligent trainee Jihyo. Actually, she hasn’t known that Jihyo for almost half a year. That Jihyo had been supplanted by the likes of Hardened JYPE Veteran Jihyo and later Almost-But-Not-Quite Jihyo. Jihyo had almost forgotten what made her take pride in the fact she’d been a trainee longer than anyone else. It wasn’t about all the practice and experience and commitment that made Jihyo unique among the others.
It was the acknowledgement that, despite it all, she still didn’t have enough of it for the longest time. Still doesn’t.
Park Jin-Young gets up from his seat all of a sudden and runs to the napkin dispenser and pulls out several napkins. He gently dabs at Jihyo’s cheeks with a wad of the stuff. She sees that they come back wet in his hands. She should be embarrassed, but all she can think about is how silly she’s been this whole time. “I’ll take that as a yes, then.” He pushes his tray of food to Jihyo’s side of the table. “Also, I brought this for you. I already ate today. Eat up because I’m going to work you to the bone after this.” He leaves to go get more napkins. Jihyo gives a choked sort of giggle and accepts. It’s all healthy, organic food that she’s come to expect from the self-improvement addict that is her mentor, but her rumbling stomach doesn’t care.
JYP returns and sits on the same side of the table as Jihyo this time, wiping her tears as she eats. They don’t say anything for a time, simply enjoy each other’s company for the first time since SIXTEEN. No cameras, no schedule, no one else to take care of but her.
Jihyo doesn’t remember the last time food tasted so good.
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No. This can’t be happening. No, no, no, no, no.
No, no, no. NO.
“Are you done yet?” Jeongyeon asks from next to her on the couch, trying to pay attention to the drama they’re watching.
“No, no, no.”
“You just accepted the leader position back there only five minutes ago and you’re regretting it already.”
“You know I can’t refuse flattery.”
“All we did was count ballots.”
Nayeon turns onto her side to face Jeongyeon. “And each piece of paper carries the connotation that the name of the person written on it is the prettiest, cutest, most amazing member, I know.”
“If that’s all being leader means to you, why are you so stressed out?”
“Because I’m not cut out for it, idiot.” Nayeon smacks Jeongyeon on the arm. “Why can’t you do it? You received almost as many votes as I did.”
“I was one of those people who voted for you. For one thing, you’re the one who tries your best to keep morale up, even if it doesn’t work most of the time.”
Nayeon almost growls at this. “Don’t remind me.”
“You’re also the eldest, the main vocalist, lead dancer, and center. Plus you’ve been at the company almost as long as anyone in the group. Take some responsibility.”
For some reason, Nayeon never considered how much the other members are going to be relying on her for their upcoming performances. At once, she feels a sudden burden and a relief to feel needed. It feels… like fitting into place. The extra weight pressing down on her is proof of just how secure she is in the structure that is TWICE. And for the umpteenth time this day, she thinks about Jihyo. Wonders if Jihyo is missing this feeling. She says the first thing that enters her mind. “I would’ve voted for Jihyo if she were here.”
Jeongyeon sighs and feels for Nayeon’s hand under the blanket they’re sharing. “Me too, unnie. I wonder what she’s doing right now. We haven’t had the opportunity to catch up whenever we’re at the company because of how strict our schedules are.”
“I wanted to invite her to one of our dinners, but I’m worried she’ll just feel awkward and won’t be able to get over this.”
“I agree. But that doesn’t mean we can’t hang out with her, just the three of us, next time we get the opportunity.”
“We’re not doing anything right now. Why don’t we call her?”
“What about the show?” Jeongyeon argues, reluctantly turning from the screen. “We don’t usually get opportunities to sit and relax like this.”
“We watched a movie with Momo and Sana the day before yesterday.” She’s already dialing Jihyo’s number. Jeongyeon grumbles about something, but Nayeon’s too busy waiting for Jihyo to pick up to hear her. Nayeon frowns when the call goes to voicemail. “That’s weird. It’s only 9 PM.”
“Maybe she’s studying.” Jeongyeon shrugs. “Call her in the morning. Why don’t we just—“
“She’s usually done for the day around this time, and— oh my gosh.” Nayeon jumps off the couch with enough force that makes Jeongyeon almost fall off.
Nayeon’s already flying down the stairs by the time Jeongyeon manages to yell after her. “Where are you going?!”
“The train stop. Don’t wait up!” Nayeon doesn’t cease her hurrying to say this and has already slipped on her shoes. After grabbing her purse, she doesn’t even make sure to lock the door in her endeavor to catch the train on time.
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Jihyo steps onto the train at Cheongdam Station after a long day at the company.
Jihyo didn’t expect JYP to make her tag along on his schedule for the entire day. While she did run a couple errands for him and some of the other big-shots in the company, she stayed by JYP’s side for a large majority of the time. After eating lunch, they went straight to a meeting for the concept of GOT7’s next comeback. While Jihyo of course supported her seniors and did her best to keep up with their music, Jihyo never expected how much deliberation went into how the boys presented themselves to their audience. She certainly didn’t expect so many songs to be scrapped from the album, which eventually became an EP, for the sake of image. Next, he took her to his Japanese lesson. She was surprised someone at his age could take to learning a new language like learning a new song or choreography. They monitored the recordings of one of the new groups, DAY6. Jihyo tried her best to express her joy at watching her fellow trainees about to begin their careers, but there was still a bit of gloom hanging over her head when she realized that this same joy was almost hers.
By the time that was over, it was already evening. Under the impression they were going to watch one of Sunmi’s dance practices, Jihyo followed JYP on his next scheduled event. The practice room was empty when they arrived except for an unaccustomed piano sitting in the middle of the room. JYP must have had someone drag it in after the last people had finished using the room. He gestured for her to sit down at the bench. Jihyo looked at him helplessly. “Umm, I can’t really play that well.” She knew a few pieces and could play them decently well, but she hardly knew how to play a song without hearing it first. The whole day, she had been quiet, nor did she feel compelled to interject with her own opinion, which was fine considering she had never done this before. This was the first time JYP had put her on the spot.
“It’s okay. Just try to accompany my voice. Don’t worry about trying to make it sound like the original. I won’t blame you if don’t know the song.”
Jihyo nods. “Okay. If you say so…”
JYP begins, slowly, his voice both powerful and rich with emotion. The song is sad, apparently relating the feelings of someone who wants to fall in love but can’t find the right person. They spend their time watching romance and wishing they too could experience the same joy amidst all the fake lovers. Sure enough, she doesn’t recognize it and is forced to improvise. Jihyo is too focused on making the notes come out without sounding rushed that she doesn’t pay attention to the words.
“What should I do? Make me speechless/Make me like ooh-ahh ooh-ahh/Bla la la la stop talking, start doing/Make me feel like ooh-ahh”
Jihyo is interrupted from her reverie as someone takes a seat next to her on the train despite the fact that there are plenty of open seats. She does her best to look anywhere but at the seat beside her, hoping that whoever it was simply didn’t realize Jihyo was there when they sat down. They’re wearing think sunglasses, so maybe this person is blind? Jihyo doesn’t see a walking stick, however.
“What was that tune you were humming?” The stranger asks. She must’ve been unconsciously humming along to the memory. Shoot.
“Just a song I heard on the radio. I don’t know what it’s called, though.” There was no point in saying it was a song that JYP sang for her out of nowhere.
“Huh. I never heard it.”
Jihyo hopes that’s the last interaction she has with that person. She’s not supposed to be shy anymore. Nayeon and Jeongyeon both said she improved a lot at talking to people even though there was a point in her life where she was too shy to even order at a restaurant. Jihyo realizes the impact SIXTEEN has probably had on her self-confidence after being judged and critiqued more than ever before in her whole life.
Suddenly, she feels an arm wrap around her neck and the stranger’s head resting on her shoulder. Jihyo’s about to scream before Nayeon places one of her giant hands over Jihyo’s mouth, pushes up her glasses, and makes a shushing gesture with the other hand.
Contradicting her own order, Nayeon starts cackling like a mad person after seeing Jihyo’s shocked expression. “You really didn’t recognize me!”
Nayeon’s hand falls and Jihyo is finally able to reply. “What the heck? I thought you were blind!” Jihyo’s face is glowing red from the prolonged contact. She tries to pass it off as embarrassment at being tricked and it appears as though Nayeon is none the wiser.
“Do you like what I did with my voice? I bet my deep voice creeped you out, huh?”
“Y-yeah. My skin’s crawling all over.” It was definitely not sexy. It was definitely not sexy.
“Anyway, what’s that?” Nayeon finally stops laughing and catches her breath. She points at the book Jihyo’s holding. “It doesn’t look like the journal you usually carry around with you.”
For a second, Jihyo had forgotten the journal sitting in her lap. After JYP had finished singing, he revealed the audio recorder he had placed next to the piano. Jihyo was more than a little nervous to listen to something she had played without any preparation. As she had expected, it didn’t sound at all good next to JYP’s voice.
“It’s a little rough around the edges.” He had said. “But I like it. It has no artifice, no intention to portray some cliched feeling.” He said he would take the recording home and refine the melody again. Jihyo, having no idea what was going on nor feeling any attachment to a recording of her impromptu performance, could only nod dumbly.
“Your first assignment as my personal pupil is to write new lyrics to this song once I return it back to you.” He handed her a journal for writing lyrics in then. She didn’t even know those kinds of journals existed.
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Nayeon had to admit she was at least a little jealous. Okay, maybe a lot jealous after learning that Jihyo had become JYP’s apprentice after coming back from vacation. “Is that what you were calling to tell me about earlier today.”
Her junior shook her head. “No. It happened afterwards.”
“And this song that he sang. How did it go? Is it from one of our seniors’ new comebacks?”
“Umm, I forgot the lyrics. It was something like hmmm-hmmm-hm-hm-baby.” Jihyo tried to hum some of the parts of the song.
“All you remember is the word ‘baby’? That’s in, like, almost every song!”
“I’m sorry.” Jihyo said sarcastically. “I was too stressed out by the fact that our company’s co-founder and former CEO was evaluating my ability to play piano.”
“Okay, my bad. But I was sort of hoping it was one of Twice’s songs for our debut album. I guess he doesn’t want even you to hear it yet.”
“How does it go?”
“Nope.” Nayeon shook her head and turned her body away from Jihyo. “My lips are sealed.”
“Unnie, please? I really want to hear.”
Nayeon couldn’t resist her friend’s whining. “Well… I can’t tell you the main track, but I can sing to you three of the songs on the album: Truth, Going Crazy, and Do It Again. Which one do you wanna hear?” Nayeon is delighted when she turns back around to receive a glare from the younger girl.
“I already know those songs. I don’t need to hear them again.”
“Good. Because it’s better when you sing it.”
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No matter how many times Nayeon flatters her, Jihyo’s heart can’t handle it. Before she can deny Nayeon’s praise, the train stops.
“I guess this is my stop.” Nayeon says and gets up.
Jihyo wonders if it’s unhealthy for her heart to change its bpm so quickly. Just when she was getting used to talking to Nayeon again, they arrive at the same old dreaded parting point from the rides they’d share going home together during Nayeon’s trainee days. She smiles despite the brevity of their meeting and waves back as Nayeon makes her way off the train. At least she was able to allay her fears that Nayeon would forget her after all this time, that Jihyo would be replaced in her heart by the seven other girls Nayeon is currently situated with. The fact that she came all the way from the TWICE dorms to meet her again like they have for the past five years is proof enough that Nayeon hasn’t changed.
Wait a second. “Hey!”
Nayeon stops at the door and looks behind her. Jihyo could almost swear she made her hair flip like that on purpose. While the logical part of her might not be fooled, she can’t say the same about the other parts of her, particularly the part that is releasing a crazy amount of dopamine at the sight of Nayeon. Nayeon’s mouth opened in a heart shape eventually breaks into her signature fearless grin. “Fooled you.”
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After they resettle in their seats, Jihyo takes a look at her phone. It’ll be about fifteen more minutes until they get to her stop. This time, she won’t be caught off-guard. She continues to stare at the clock as she talks. “About the reason why I called you.”
“Yeah?” Nayeon sits up now. She had been curious about this the entire time.
“You know how I just got back from vacation today?”
“Yeah?”
“I was supposed to be back three days ago. And, once my parents finally convinced me to stop skipping training, I couldn’t get the motivation to actually attend my classes. I told check-in that I forgot my phone at home so I could call one of you and ask if you were free. I wanted to see you guys.” She meant to refer to Jeongyeon and Nayeon, but she was really referring only to Nayeon. I asked around and one of my friends told me about where TWICE was practicing. I hid myself outside the room and tried to peek in through the door when no one was looking. I wasn’t planning on going in. I just wanted to see how you guys were doing.”
Nayeon stayed quiet throughout the story. She raised her eyebrows in alarm, worrying where the story was going.
“I thought maybe I’d say hi to you guys when you all came out. Everyone looked tired and not really in the mood for talking, so I stayed back. When I didn’t see you come out, I decided to call, wondering what you were doing in there and maybe I’d come inside and surprise you in the middle of it.”
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“I miss you too, Jihyo.” Nayeon was reclining against the wall with her eyes closed. Jihyo felt emboldened by this to stand in plain view before the door and take in her appearance after so long. Nayeon looked just as she remembered, maybe a little drained, but that was to be expected.
Her grip tightened on the door knob and she was determined now to open it and reveal herself. But something shifted in Nayeon’s expression: a crease in her forehead, a darkening of her features, maybe. Jihyo didn’t know whether she was imagining it or not, but it was enough to halt her, then:
“Listen, I have to go; they’re calling me.”
Even if Jihyo wasn’t there, she’d know it was a lie. Even the film major Nayeon had trouble hiding her emotions when she was pushed to the edge.
Jihyo could finally recognize Nayeon’s exhaustion. Both mental and physical. She wasn’t the only one having a tough time of it after SIXTEEN. Of course she was aware of the slog of getting ready to debut. Jihyo knew full well what becoming a member of TWICE meant and yet she was fully prepared to suffer for her dream. She just wasn’t expecting Nayeon who has no flaws to be so affected the way she was at that moment. Even Nayeon, whom Jihyo knows so well and knows to be nervous, even downright terrified at times but never not composed, had lower levels that she could descend into. Jihyo thought that Nayeon’s frustration at the failure of 6MIX was the worst she would see and, after her success in SIXTEEN, things could only get better.
Then, Nayeon lowers the phone, covering the mic, and exhales. Nayeon’s lips move, but the sound isn’t loud enough to be heard through the phone. Jihyo knows what it is, though. That same movement of lips that begins an excited “over here!” or a panicking “I don’t know what to do” or laughing “look at this”. Jihyo loves the sound of her own name on those lips in all its forms. She doesn’t want to stop hearing it. She wouldn’t give up their friendship for anything.
“Oh. Okay. Talk to you soon?” Jihyo’s already running to her stretching class and almost forgets to hang up. While she may have missed the first hour, she figures it’s better than standing around doing nothing.
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“So you just left because you thought you saw someone looking around for you?”
“Yeah.” Jihyo had omitted the last part about watching Nayeon like a stalker.
“Huh. Sorry for lying to you about having to hang up so soon, by the way. It wasn’t because I didn’t want to talk to you. I just wasn’t really in the mood and I didn’t want you to see me in such a state.
But I already did. Jihyo thought to herself. And I want to see you in every state.
They spend the rest of the time on the train talking about whatever they can think of in the moment. Even though Jihyo wouldn’t mind, Nayeon does her best not to unbury any intense feelings associated with the memory of the past two months. That doesn’t stop Jihyo from asking Nayeon all about the life of an idol and overtly fawning over the most mundane things just to get a kick out of Nayeon.
“What do idols eat for breakfast?”
Nayeon deadpans. “Is this some kind of corny joke?”
Jihyo laughs. “No, I’m asking because I really wanna know.”
“Well today, I had toast with jam.”
“Wow! What kind of jam?”
Nayeon rolls her eyes playfully and runs with it. “Strawberry, actually. Three swipes of jam exactly.”
“As expected, Im Nayeon doesn’t accept anything less than the best.”
“Well, sometimes I like to sneak in a little bit extra jam.”
“As expected of Im Nayeon, she’s as sweet as the food she eats.”
“What are you doing?”
“I’m endorsing you.”
Nayeon gasps. “You’re going to have to compete tooth and nail if you want to be my hype woman.”
“Oh yeah? Who’s my competition?” Jihyo raises her eyebrows.
“Me.” Nayeon points at herself, squishing her cheeks with her fingers and smiling.
“I forfeit.”
Nayeon grabs Jihyo by the arm. “No. Say you’ll keep supporting me.”
“Hmmm, I don’t know. What’s in it for me?”Nayeon thinks for a moment and exaggeratedly furrows her brow. Finally, she says in a baby voice, “Aegyo.”
“Yeah, no thanks.” She would actually give anything for Nayeon to act cutely in front of her more often.
“No, no, no. That’s not what you were supposed to say!”
The train comes to a halt, bringing Jihyo to her stop. The girls both realize simultaneously that they’re going to have to wait until next time to continue their endless conversation. Nayeon had planned on getting off at the next station and switching trains to get back home. With one last hug and promises to stay in touch, Jihyo gets off.
The night air is cool and refreshing. Jihyo feels like she can breathe more easily now, and not just because of the ample fresh air. Putting her hands in her coat pockets, she decides to sit down at a nearby bench before setting off on the path back home. Maybe she’ll see Nayeon waving to her through the window. Jihyo tries to find the place where they were sitting.
Apparently, Nayeon had different plans as she runs through the train doors just as they were shutting. She almost drops her phone as her arm gets temporarily caught. “What the heck are you doing?” Jihyo scolds. “How are you going to get home?”
Nayeon lifts up a hand, asking for a minute to catch her breath, hands on her knees and panting. She eventually stands up again and brushes some stray hair from her face. “Jeongyeon figured I went to visit you and offered to pick me up. She’s waiting for me with Seungyeon at the park by your house. And before you say anything, no, I didn’t ask her to do this.” Nayeon shows Jihyo her phone to see the notifications she had just received from their other friend only a minute ago.
“She couldn’t have told you earlier? You would’ve been in the next district over if she had waited a little longer to tell you.”
“I’m just glad I was checking my phone at the time. Come on.” She links arms with Jihyo whose hands are still in her pockets. Nayeon isn’t even wearing a jacket, but she latches onto Jihyo with such cheerfulness as if she didn’t feel any discomfort from the chill. “I don’t want to keep her waiting.”
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“Thanks again for agreeing to pick up Nayeon for me on such short notice.” Jeongyeon looks at Seungyeon from the passenger seat as they wait in the car. “Sometimes, she just does things on impulse and hopes everything will work out.”
“I don’t mind. Just like Jihyo, I haven’t been able to see you ever since you became a part of TWICE. I can understand how Nayeon must really want to see her. I’d do anything for my little sister. By the way, do you have that autograph from Tzuyu?”
“Yeah, here.” She pulls out a picture of Tzuyu from her pocket.
“Sweet. Have I ever told you I love you?”
Jeongyeon simply rolls her eyes. “Anyway, they’ve always been pretty close, but I think it’s more than that. Nayeon’s been kicking herself for the fact that she gets to debut and Jihyo doesn’t. She won’t admit it, but I can tell she feels directly responsible because she received the positions that she believes Jihyo deserved.”
“She’ll get over it eventually. Hopefully they’ll be able to talk it out and Jihyo can tell her what she really thinks about the situation. Whether good or not, it’s better to communicate rather than simply speculating on how another person must feel. Speaking of…” Seungyeon flashes her sister a coy grin. “What do you think about Nayeon?”
“Die.”
“Hey, that’s not something you should say to someone who’s doing you a favor at such an inconvenient hour.”
“I’m sorry. Please die.”
“That’s… better, I guess.”
“You’re only doing this because you wanted the autograph anyway. Don’t talk to me about gratitude.”
“Fine, fine. Oh! There she is!”
Sure enough, they see Nayeon approaching, walking closely next to Jihyo. Seungyeon honks her horn just loudly enough to get their attention, and Nayeon looks over. The two sisters watch as Nayeon pulls in Jihyo for a hug and then kisses her on the cheek. Seungyeon looks to see Jeongyeon’s reaction; Jeongyeon is only staring blankly without moving. Her eyes are locked on the scene even as Nayeon is already walking towards the car and waving at the two of them.
“Long time no see, Seungyeon. It feels like forever!” Nayeon greets exuberantly as she opens the car door.
“Same, Nayeon. You’ve grown so much since last time we met.”
“And you look so much younger! Thanks for driving all the way here to pick me up.”
“Anytime, anytime.”
“And thank you, Jeongyeon.” Nayeon stands up in the car to hug her best friend from behind the car chair. The contact seems to snap Jeongyeon out of her stupor.
“You couldn’t have chosen a better time to visit Jihyo? Like any other day where we don’t have schedules in the morning? I had to tell the managers that you were just going to check up on your mom at the hospital and that you would be back soon.”
“My bad. Next time, I’ll tell you when I plan on running off to meet her. Actually, why don’t we go together? Jihyo kept asking about you.”
Seungyeon thought she saw Jeongyeon flinch at the words “next time”.
“You know I can’t use the same lie twice.”
“I know. How can I make it up to you?” Nayeon’s voice takes on a saccharine tone.
Jeongyeon hesitates for a moment before saying, “You have nothing that I want.”
“Why does everyone keep saying that?!”
Believe me, Seungyeon thinks to herself. It’s probably for the very opposite of what you think.