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It takes just about an hour to get to Jeongyeon’s holiday home in Yangpyeong. When Twice were still a group, they all lived in Seoul, central to the city and close to one another, but after the slow stutter-stop of Twice’s activities, Jeongyeon was the first to move away. She already owned the house, but only stayed there for vacations, leaving it to be used freely by her family for when they wanted a countryside escape.
It’s been a few years since Jihyo visited.
She sees Jeongyeon, sure, when she’s in the city; they show up at each others’ film sets and eat dinner with the rest of the members, but in the past few years, the time they spend together has been closer to being borne out of habit than out of affection.
Jihyo stares unseeing at the world whirring by and clutches her hand around the little box in her pocket, willing the time to pass more quickly.
Jihyo is awoken by her driver’s hesitant hand on her shoulder. Her eyes snap open and she sits up straight in an instant.
“Jihyo-ssi,” her driver says, stepping to the side.
Jihyo blinks in the sunlight. She doesn’t remember falling asleep, and she certainly hadn’t intended to, and it throws her off a little. She would have wanted to be fully alert for this, but it’s too late now. Gingerly, she steps out of the car and closes the door behind her with a resounding slam.
Jeongyeon’s front garden is thriving - she seems to be growing vegetables, based on the carefully arranged plots to Jihyo’s left, but there are plenty of seasonal flowers blooming as well. Jihyo thinks of her poor, shriveling cacti in her apartment in Seoul and feels a little ashamed as she walks to ring the doorbell. She can hear the bell chime through the open downstairs window, a pleasant tone. Everything about this place is pleasant, from the garden to the location overlooking the water down to the floral patterns on the doormat. Subconsciously, Jihyo’s hand finds its way back into her pocket.
“Coming!”
The door opens and Jeongyeon greets Jihyo with a quick hug and the same smile she always gives her. Jihyo hugs back, of course, her body moving to accept Jeongyeon’s affection on its own, and regards Jeongyeon when she steps back.
She’s a little tanned, but it suits her. Her hair is the same warm brown as it was when they last met, but a little longer. She’s pulled it back into a little low ponytail and she’s not wearing any makeup.
“I missed you,” Jeongyeon tells her, stepping aside so Jihyo can come in. “I came to Seoul last month, but you weren’t there.”
Jihyo nods. “I was in Paris,” she says. “I’m sorry I missed you.”
“You can make it up to me,” Jeongyeon says lightly, over her shoulder. “Do you want something to drink? Or eat? I was heating up some leftovers. Mina was here last night.”
This doesn’t surprise Jihyo. Mina visits whenever she’s in Korea, and often comes when Jeongyeon isn’t here, too. She likes the quiet.
“I’m okay.”
She hovers in the doorway, watching as Jeongyeon busies herself in the kitchen. The sunlight streams in through the open windows and backlit, Jeongyeon looks a little like she’s slipped out from within a dream. Or a memory.
They lived together the longest, Jeongyeon and Jihyo. All the years from training in bunkbeds to when Jeongyeon and Momo had to share a bed after debut to the apartment the two of them shared with Mina. Even after, when they all had their own places, Jihyo had so many things at Jeongyeon’s apartment that it was practically hers, too. They spent many mornings off like this, Jihyo chattering away while Jeongyeon got food ready for them both and complained that Jihyo wasn’t helping.
A part of Jihyo wonders how Jeongyeon is so unphased at her sudden visit, after so much distance has grown between them, but her in her heart she knows that there are some people you will always be comfortable around, no matter how much time passes or how distant you grow.
“Here,” Jeongyeon sets a steaming bowl down in front of Jihyo. It smells divine. “You look tired. Eat.”
Jihyo looks up at Jeongyeon and takes the chopsticks she’s offering with a sheepish smile. “Thank you.”
As they eat, they catch up and make small talk. Jeongyeon and her sister filmed a variety show together, Jihyo tells Jeongyeon about the gala she was in Paris for. They talk about the members. Jeongyeon doesn’t ask why Jihyo asked to meet her, but Jihyo imagines the box in her pocket ticking like a time bomb.
“Let me,” Jihyo says, when Jeongyeon stands to wash their bowls.
Though she acquiesces, Jeongyeon remains close, hovering at Jihyo’s shoulder and quietly watching her pour dish soap onto the sponge.
So much of the time that Jeongyeon and Jihyo spent together when they were younger was loud, loud, loud. Laughing and shouting and arguing and making up and teasing and protesting and singing and living with carefree abandon. Loving with carefree abandon. But there was also quiet. Sneaking into each others beds as trainees and sleeping on each others’ shouldering in the van. When Jeongyeon took her first hiatus, Jihyo visited her in her parents’ home in Suwon and they would sit on the roof of their building and watch the sun rise in silence. Quiet, for Jeongyeon and Jihyo, held its own inherent intimacy. They haven’t had an opportunity to be quiet together for a long time.
Jihyo places the bowls on the rack gingerly.
“Shall we go sit outside?” Jeongyeon suggests. She nods towards something behind Jihyo. “On the patio.”
Jihyo looks over her shoulder and squints against the sun to see a few chairs and tables set up outside. Before she can respond, Jeongyeon is already on her way out, sliding on her slippers as she goes. Jihyo follows.
They end up forgoing any of the chairs to sit side by side on the steps that lead down into the garden. It’s nice. Casual.
“So,” Jeongyeon says, turning to face Jihyo. She rest her elbow on her knee and her chin on her hand. “How is the boyfriend?”
“Yejun,” Jihyo corrects on instinct.
Jeongyeon waves her away with a grin, seemingly pleased to have gotten a reaction. “Yeah, yeah. Him.”
Jihyo takes a deep breath. “Well…”
Carefully, she takes the blue velvet box out of her pocket and holds it in both hands. Instantly, Jeongyeon’s eyes widen. Something else flashes across her face, but it’s gone too quickly for Jihyo to decipher.
“Oh.”
Jihyo swallows. “I, ah. I accepted,” she says. She hates that she can’t bring herself to look at Jeongyeon as she says it. She closes her fist around the ring box. “He asked, and I said yes, we just, we haven’t had — we need to get the ring resized, so I’m not… wearing it,” she finishes feebly. Finally, she glances up at Jeongyeon. She’s watching Jihyo with a tenderness in her eyes.
“Can I see it?” she asks.
Jihyo nods and opens the box.
Jeongyeon gasps. “It’s beautiful,” she says, emphatically. “Have you told the members?”
“Not yet.”
Jihyo tilts the box so Jeongyeon can see the ring better, and she reaches out to touch it and then quickly retracts her hand.
“Here,” Jihyo says, gently pulling the ring out of the box. Its diamonds glimmer in the late evening sunlight. Jeongyeon holds it between cautious fingers, then glances at Jihyo.
“Can I see it on?”
Jihyo nods. She reaches her hand out, intending to take the ring, but instead, Jeongyeon takes her hand in her own and slips the ring onto her finger herself.
Jihyo’s heart nearly stops. The tangle of pent up emotions that has been sitting harmlessly in her stomach swells and tightens and catches in her throat.
“Ah. It suits you, it’s beautiful.” Jeongyeon says. She hasn’t looked up. Jihyo hopes she didn’t notice anything. Jeongyeon slides the ring back off. “It is a little loose, though.”
Jihyo stares down at her hand, silent.
“Jihyo?”
“Sorry,” Jihyo clears her throat. “Yeah, it’s a little bit big.”
“Jihyo,” Jeongyeon says again. She slots the ring back into the box and places it on the step, then reaches out for Jihyo’s hand. “I’m happy for you.”
Jihyo chokes out a small, weak sound.
“Are you… happy?”
Is she happy? She is, of course she is. When Yejun proposed, she burst into tears and kissed him silly and accepted. She’s been happy with Yejun for three years now and she’ll continue to be happy in the years to come.
Jeongyeon places a soft hand on Jihyo’s cheek and tilts her face up so that Jihyo can’t look away.
“Jihyo?”
Her name has always sounded sweetest on Jeongyeon’s tongue.
Jihyo nods.
She acknowledged long ago that a part of her heart would always belong to Jeongyeon. She left little pieces of herself in all the places where she and Jeongyeon shared memories — the old JYP building in Cheongdam-dong where they kissed on a dare, the hotel rooms on tours where they held their own dance parties for two, and finally this house, where Jeongyeon ran away to when Jihyo told her that they needed to take a step back.
With a sigh, Jeongyeon wraps her arms around her and holds her tight. Jihyo takes a shuddering breath and buries her face in Jeongyeon’s neck, inhaling her scent. She’s used the same fabric softener for forever. Once, all nine of them smelled like it, but now, it’s only Jeongyeon who does.
“I’m happy for you,” Jeongyeon repeats. She presses a sweet kiss to Jihyo’s cheek, then pulls away and clasps Jihyo’s hands between her own. “You’ll be a lovely bride.”
With a cut-off sob, Jihyo throws her arms around Jeongyeon again.
“I love you,” Jihyo tells her. She means it in every way. She always will.
They only separate when Jihyo’s breathing has steadied again. The sun is going down, and Jeongyeon’s cheeks are lit pink in the sunset.
Jeongyeon squeezes Jihyo’s hand one more time before standing up.
Jihyo swallows. “Can I stay here tonight?” Her tone is meek.
Jeongyeon doesn’t look at her with pity. She shakes her head.
“I think you should go home.”
Jihyo feels desperation bubbling in her chest. “It’ll take my driver an hour to come back,” she argues.
Jeongyeon opens the patio door and steps inside. She waits for Jihyo to follow.
“We’ll wait.”
They spend the hour in Jeongyeon’s study. Jeongyeon has a draft version of a song she’s written for a drama that she wants to show Jihyo, and Jihyo takes comfort in the normalcy, even if it’s being enforced upon her. They are tied together by music and will always be, and so it is one thing that Jihyo can concentrate on while her heart still struggling to beat on time in her chest. She gives Jeongyeon her feedback and then they spend a little while leafing through photo albums that Jeongyeon has had printed and messing around with Jeongyeon’s fancy sound system. By the time her car rolls into the driveway, Jihyo is even laughing. That’s the effect that they have on each other — that they’ve always had.
Jihyo glances out the window and sees the headlights grow closer.
“I should go,” she says. A tinge of uncertainty colours her voice. A part of her worries that if she leaves today, that she will never be welcomed back.
Jeongyeon nods and they both begin to walk to the door, in step.
“I’ll call you next time I’m in Seoul,” Jeongyeon says. “If you’re not too busy.”
“I won’t be,” Jihyo promises.
Jeongyeon opens the door and a gust of humid wind comes through. Night has finally fallen, and the crescent moon hangs low in the sky.
At the sight of Jihyo in the doorway, her driver steps to open the door.
Jihyo takes a deep breath. “Bye, Jeongyeonie.”
Jeongyeon cracks a smile. “Goodbye, Jihyo. And congratulations.”
Jihyo can’t help the startled half-laugh that comes out but Jeongyeon just keeps on smiling, ushering her out the door and into her car.
“Bye-bye,” Jeongyeon repeats. “Take care.”
“You too,” Jihyo says, waving as they begin to drive away. Jeongyeon stands in the driveway and Jihyo cranes her neck to keep on waving until they turn the corner and Jeongyeon is out of sight.
Suddenly alone, Jihyo takes in a deep breath.
She slips the ring box out of her pocket and slowly pries it open. In the night, with the tinted windows of the car, there is little light for the diamonds to reflect, but it’s still dazzling. In the darkness of the car, she slips the ring onto her finger with unshaking hands.