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It starts, as all things do, on a plane. It’s not Haseul’s first time on a plane, but it’s Heejin’s and Hyunjin’s, and she can hear them giggling from nerves in the row in front of her. Their management team is a few rows back, far enough that Vivi and Haseul can both get away with ordering glasses of wine when the concession trolly rolls by. They clink glasses and sip.
Haseul can’t help but let her eyes linger on Vivi’s hair, bleached and dyed to a light pink for her debut song.
It looks good. Haseul can’t keep her eyes off of it and she doesn’t understand why.
“You can touch it, you know.”
Haseul flushes. She’d been more transparent than she’d thought. Still, she takes Vivi’s invitation at face value, running a hand over it before carding her fingers though near the bottom. She wonders if she’s imagining Vivi leaning her head into the touch. “Did it…hurt?” She asks.
Vivi laughs, softly, so as to not disturb the other passengers. “Haseul, hair is dead.”
“Right.”
“But my scalp ached with the bleach.” Vivi adds. “Not for very long though.”
—
It continues, as all things do, in the hotel room. Haseul glances up from her phone when Vivi comes out of the bathroom, freshly-showered. Her hair is wet, and the saturation has turned her hair a dark, rich magenta.
“Your hair is darker.” Haseul says. She can’t help it. She knows wet hair is darker. Her own hair turns obsidian after a shower, but it’s still—Haseul can’t tear her eyes away.
Vivi looks at her, eyes almost searching, and Haseul feels like she’s been caught. Doing what, she doesn’t quite know. The Vivi crosses to her. “It’s wet. It happens when it’s wet.” She takes Haseul’s hand and brings it to her hair.
Vivi’s shampoo is sweet-smelling. Soft like her. Haseul flushes when she realizes she’s brought some of Vivi’s hair to her nose to smell.
Vivi looks like she’s figured something out, and she nods to herself. “Let me know if I’m misunderstanding what this is,” she says before cupping Haseul’s jaw and drawing her into a kiss.
Haseul gasps against Vivi’s lips, and she feels Vivi start to pull away. She can’t have that, so she surges forward, pulling Vivi back onto the bed with her.
She barely understands herself any better years later when Sooyoung shows up to her late-night vocal practice. Haseul recognizes her by the way she waltzes into Haseul’s practice room, interrupting Haseul’s self-recording, but she has to do a double take when she glances at Sooyoung. Her hair is a soft pink, light and cute, curled from the salon, wispy bangs decorating her forehead.
“Do you like it?” Sooyoung asks, leaning into Haseul’s personal space. “It’s for Queendom.”
Haseul does like it, so she nods. The color softens Sooyoung, makes her look delicate, romantic. Haseul is suddenly hit with the image of that pink hair splayed out against her sheets, looped around her fingers. She chases it away, but not fast enough.
“Why are you looking at me like that?” Sooyoung asks, voice barely a whisper even though the door is closed on Haseul’s soundproofed practice room.
“Like what?” Haseul whispers back, hoping Sooyoung will tell her what she’s feeling so she doesn’t have to try to interrogate it herself.
“Like you…” Sooyoung licks her lips, “like you want me.”
Oh. Haseul’s eyes dip down to Sooyoung’s mouth without her permission. “What if I did?”
She reaches out slowly to cup Sooyoung’s jaw. Like she’s afraid she’ll scare her away. Instead, Haseul just hears her breath hitch. So she closes the distance.
Sooyoung’s kisses are soft and accommodating. Haseul doesn’t know why she thought she’d be any different. It makes sense. She weaves her fingers into soft, pink hair.
“I’ve never kissed a girl before,” Sooyoung mutters into her mouth.
Haseul almost pulls back. “Really?”
Sooyoung hooks her hand around the back to Haseul’s neck to keep her close. “Don’t laugh. I just never had the chance.”
“And now you do,” Haseul supplies. And she can feel Sooyoung hum her agreement.
Haseul kisses down Sooyoung’s neck to her collarbone. She feels Sooyoung breath hitch under her lips as she kisses near the top of her ribcage.
“May I?” She asks, tugging at the hem of Sooyoung spaghetti strap tank. Sooyoung nods.
When Jungeun comes back from the salon with the same dusty pink hair Sooyoung had, Haseul knows it’s only a matter of time before she finds herself knocking on Jungeun’s door.
“Hey unnie,” Jungeun greets, “what’s up?” She steps aside, letting Haseul into her room, probably the tidiest of any of their places.
Haseul crosses the room to sit at Jungeun’s desk. “Just wanted to hang out.” It’s a lie, but not really. She did like Jungeun’s company.
Jungeun is none the wiser. “Are you nervous about the final too?” She asks, laying back on her bed.
Haseul nods. She hadn’t let herself think about it too much because of that. No use lingering on things you’d already prepared for.
“Me too.” Jungeun rolls over and pats the bed. “C’mere. Why are you so far away?”
Haseul crosses the three feet from Jungeun's desk to her bed and lays next to Jungeun. They lay in silence for a few minutes before Jungeun speaks.
“I overheard Vivi and Sooyoung talking about something,” Jungeun starts, trepidation clear in her voice.
“Hm?” Haseul looks over at Jungeun, but Jungeun is staring up at the ceiling.
“It was about how you slept with them,” She pauses. “When they had pink hair.”
Haseul feels herself flush. She hadn’t realized it had been so obvious to everyone involved.
“Is that your thing?” Jungeun suddenly turns to Haseul, who can’t bring herself to look away. “Are you going to sleep with me too?”
Haseul swallows. “Um,” Her mouth has suddenly gone dry. “Do you want that?”
Jungeun studies her face. Haseul wishes she could read minds. “Unnie, why do you think I made Sooyoung trade me for pink hair?”
Oh. Haseul opens her mouth, hoping her mind will just…supply the words. They don’t come. She sits up, looking Jungeun over. “I won’t lie. It’s…” She takes a breath. “It’s what made me knock on your door in the first place.”
Jungeun smiles at that, somehow both soft and calculating. Jungeun’s good at that—her little microexpressions deliver such specific emotions. Haseul had never mastered the art. “I know.”
Jungeun pulls her in, lips unyielding. Haseul feels like she has to jog to keep up. It’s not what she expected from Jungeun, who was usually so shy, but never careful. And she’s not careful now, either. Not as she swings her leg over Haseul’s hips, trapping her underneath.
“I like your hair too, unnie.” Jungeun brushes a lock of Haseul’s gray hair from her face. “It makes me want you, too.”