Work Text:
Jeongyeon doesn’t realize how much she appreciates Jihyo’s presence until the leader’s out sick for the first time.
She’s sitting at the edge of a single mattress, Sana and Nayeon practically on top of each other next to her. They’re doing some sort of ‘slumber party talk’ themed daytime improv sketch, and Jeongyeon’s so bored she wishes the producers put more emphasis on the ‘slumber’ part.
“What’s your type?” Nayeon asks, sudden enough that it takes Jeongyeon a moment to realize it’s a question for Sana. She hopes the mics aren’t good enough to pick up on the way her breath audibly catches.
“You know, I’m not sure I have one. What’s yours?”
“Tall, dark, and handsome?” Nayeon offers.
“I don’t think I really care about how they look. I just want someone who’ll get malatang with me. And walk on the outside of the sidewalk without me having to ask.”
“You’ve got low standards.”
“Then tell me why I’m this pretty and still single.”
If Jihyo were here, she would’ve followed the script, said something like, I can fix that, or you wouldn’t be if you just gave me a chance. Nayeon responds instead, sends Jeongyeon a side-eye as she does it, and Jeongyeon wants to smack the expression off her face.
“I think you’re going to have to look inward for that one.”
Sana playfully scowls at that, before tackling Nayeon to the bed. Jeongyeon pretends to furiously scroll through her phone as they wrestle for a bit, not wanting to think about why she suddenly feels so hot.
“Jeongyeon, what about you?” Sana asks, breathless, when she inevitably taps out, and Jeongyeon feels the heat creeping up from her neck explode into her face.
“What about me?”
“What’s your type?”
And it takes everything in her to say the next part, but she has an image to maintain, a dynamic to appease the fans. “Why? You interested?”
“And if I was? How would you want me to act?”
“I’d want you to act less annoying.”
Sana is scowling again.
-
The hotel room is nice, clean and a bit too sterile for Jeongyeon’s liking, but still up-to-standard. She pretends Nayeon’s last minute insistence on switching roommates doesn’t bother her, an extremely difficult feat considering Sana’s sat in bed about two metres away from her, barefaced and dewy.
They’re about ten minutes into some true crime podcast when Jeongyeon’s peace is disturbed.
“Whatcha thinkin’ about?”
“I thought you said I was an open book. You can't tell?”
“Not when your hair’s in your face like that,” Sana says, lazily jutting her chin out as she leans back against the headboard. “Why don’t you get those cut?”
“Who's gonna cut them?”
A silence. Sana has her mouth twisted into a pout, eyes twinkling in the way that they do when she’s about to test Jeongyeon’s boundaries.
“I could.”
If Jeongyeon were of a sound mind, she’d be able to worm her way out of this easily. It’s not like there’s any shortage of excuses she could use— like not wanting to risk the managers getting mad at her for an impromptu haircut, especially not by one of the stylists, or, more directly, how clumsy Sana can be, after all.
Instead, Jeongyeon panics. For reasons she’s never said aloud, she can practically feel the steam pouring from her ears, gaze shifting as she pretends to look for her phone, desperate for a distraction.
“Hey, c’mon. I could!” Sana whines, stepping out of bed to grab Jeongyeon’s wrist.
Hesitantly, Jeongyeon looks up at her, before forcing a scoff quickly, “You?”
“Yeah. If you let me.”
Sana’s giving her an opening, a way out, and she’s staring at Jeongyeon with those stupid wide eyes like she knows exactly how she looks– pout in full force as if she’s readying her cupid’s bow to strike Jeongyeon square in the heart. Jeongyeon’s mouth is moving before she can stop herself.
“...Okay.”
“‘Okay?’”
Sana’s mouth splits into a grin, and Jeongyeon swears she feels the sting of the arrow in her chest. Sana immediately settles into Jeongyeon’s lap, bracketing her legs around Jeongyeon’s waist.
“Is this really necessary?”
“Ergonomically? Yes.”
There’s no time to recover before she’s grabbing Jeongyeon’s face, squinting as she leans back and forth to examine just how much of her fringe needs to be cut. Jeongyeon swallows, and it’s loud. Definitely loud enough for Sana to notice.
“I could probably kill you right now,” Sana says, when she finally stops moving. She’s such a sight to see, all puppy eyed and pretty in the lowlight of their lush hotel room. “You’re all alone and defenseless— completely at my mercy.”
She raises the scissors in her hand like she’s really going to do it. The podcast drones on.
“You’re more likely to be killed by someone you know.”
“Too easy,” Jeongyeon murmurs, looking away, composure training struggling to remain in practice. “They’d suspect you right away. Besides, Jihyo would beat your ass before I‘d even have time to scream.”
Sana hums, brushes Jeongyeon’s bangs like a lover bold in shy candlelight, and Jeongyeon does everything she can to avert her eyes. Instead, she focuses on the shadows of Sana’s eyelashes, so long her mascara flirts with the apples of her cheek. Jeongyeon considers whether Jihyo would actually hear her.
Sana holds the scissors properly again. “It’s just funny to think about. How easily you let me do this.”
Snip, snip.
Sana cradles her hand under Jeongyeon’s chin, catches the small strands before dumping them in the trash can next to them.
“Hm?”
“I thought you were mad at me.”
The arrow lodges deeper, twists and spirals into her stomach.
“Why’d you think that?”
“If I'm being honest, I was surprised you didn't put up more of a fight about rooming with me,” she says, gaze skittering to the side as she fiddles with the ends of her hair, “You only talk to Nayeon these days.”
Sana's voice twists around her words, cruel and unusual. Barbwire jealousy, Jeongyeon would think, if she were a braver person.
“Maybe I am. Maybe I’m sick of you.”
“Watch it,” she warns. “I’ve still got the scissors, and you’re still under me.”
“I’m not afraid of you.”
Snip, snip.
She laughs, and Jeongyeon worries that if Sana can’t hear her heartbeat, she can definitely feel it.
“You keep telling lies, I’m going to mess up your bangs.”
“What, you think I’m afraid of you?”
“If the shoe fits. I can be pretty intimidating.” She wiggles her eyebrows, waving the scissors around carelessly. Intentional or not, a murder still seems likely.
“Hey, be careful.”
“So you are afraid.”
“Only because you’re such a klutz.”
“Yeah? Not because I’m scary?”
“You’re like, whatever the complete opposite is of an apex predator. And you cry every time you watch Coco. You couldn’t be scary if you tried.”
A pause. Sana leans in again, brushes the cut hair from Jeongyeon’s cheeks as she murmurs casually.
“Then why’s your heart beating so fast?”
Snip snip.
“I think I’m just healthy,” Jeongyeon says, and it’s such bullshit, so clearly a childlike excuse. She braces herself for whatever final blow Sana’s been preparing.
“There is unequivocal evidence that one can be scared to death under certain and very specific circumstances.”
To her surprise, Sana drops it.
“You didn’t say it earlier,” she says, sitting back to admire her handiwork, “what your type was.”
“Is it really that important to you?”
“I’m just curious.”
And Jeongyeon is already mourning the loss of her overgrown bangs in full force, a sudden shyness overwhelming her as she tries, out of habit, to hide behind them. She decides to humour Sana this time, just this once.
“I guess… I’d like someone who cares. Who doesn’t make me feel embarrassed about the little things. Someone who turns the light off when we go to sleep so I don’t have to.”
“So you have thought about this.”
Jeongyeon doesn’t respond. Instead, she stares. Sana’s hair is curled perfectly inward, except a single strand, and Jeongyeon almost wants to snatch up the scissors and cut it off herself.
“Why do you do that?”
“What?”
“Ignore me.”
Jeongyeon pauses. Then, instead of responding, she purses her lips, cracking a small smile, eager to maliciously comply.
“Jeongyeon,” Sana says, so softly, pushing the hair out of her face. It's supposed to be a comforting gesture, but Jeongyeon's heart is still racing like she’s been caught sneaking snacks after curfew.
“I’m just doing what you asked.”
"Jeongyeon," she repeats, and her voice is knife-edge sharp. “If I asked, would you come to get malatang with me?”
“I’m not sure I understand the question.”
But Sana isn’t listening anymore. She’s playing with Jeongyeon’s bangs again, carding her hands through them so she can watch how they fall back on her face.
“Because I’d do it, you know,” she murmurs.
“Do what?”
“Turn the lights off so you don’t have to.”
It’s not fair. It’s not fair that she can just say things like this, blinking prettily like she isn’t carving bleeding hearts into Jeongyeon’s arm.
“My legs are asleep.”
Sana sighs, and something like understanding flashes in her eyes.
“I’m done, anyway.”
She slides off Jeongyeon’s waist, starts heading to the bathroom.
The arrowhead wrenches then, scattering splintering fragments against the delicate softness of Jeongyeon’s insides.
“Wait,” Jeongyeon reaches out, and she’s grabbing Sana’s wrist before she can stop herself.
Sana waits.
Jeongyeon swallows, mouth suddenly dry. Whatever she’d meant to say evaporates, words vanishing just as they claw their way, barefoot and bloody, up her throat.
She wants to ask Sana to get malatang. She wants to walk next to her on the sidewalk, and to watch as she takes the outside. She wants-
That’s it. She wants. But Sana is looking at her, Jeongyeon’s heart bowstring-taut in the palm of her hand, and there’s nothing to say, really.
There never has been.
“How do I look?” Jeongyeon asks, braces herself for the quickdraw.
Sana’s mouth twists, and it shouldn’t be so attractive, the way her body always betrays her, if only in some little way.
Her jaw is set, shoulders squared, and her eyes are the color of dried blood, but her gaze is as soft as it’s ever been.
A fool’s oeillade.
“Pretty,” she says, finally, before disappearing behind the door.
Ah, Jeongyeon thinks, heart leaking to the floor. Bullseye.
Behind her, the podcast plays on.
“The percentage of unsolved murders hit an all-time high of just over fifty percent.”