Chapter Text
Momo sat on the floor of their dorm, legs stretched out, scrolling through her phone as Sana hummed happily at her desk, flipping through a fashion magazine. The small space was already a chaotic mess—Sana’s side had fabric swatches, a sewing kit, and a bulletin board full of aesthetic mood boards and photography samples. Momo’s side? A perfectly organized row of dance shoes, training schedules, and a collection of well-worn sneakers she could never bring herself to throw away. Her bed is covered in all kinds of different plushies some as big as her. Their roommate, Nayeon, was lying upside down on her bed, casually painting her nails and watching the two of them with mild amusement.
Nayeon: “Momo, have you eaten today? Or are you running on pure dancer energy and starring at your phone for hours?”
Momo choked on air and looked up at her, eyes wide.
Momo: “What?!”
Sana, still flipping through the magazine, barely acknowledged them.
Sana: “She means have you eaten. I was going to say something too. Do you want to go eat something?”
Nayeon: “I did mean that, but now I’m also intrigued by your reaction. What are you looking at ”
Momo groaned, setting her phone down.
Momo: “Yes, I ate. And nothing.”
Nayeon snorted, clearly unconvinced, but let it slide for now. Momo was looking at old photos.
Momo and Sana had met when they were six years old—Momo, the quiet, hyper-focused kid who only cared about dancing, and Sana, the bright, artistic spirit who had already cut up her school uniform to make it “cuter” on the first day of school. Sana had waltzed up to Momo on the playground, her tiny hands clutching a pink disposable camera.
Sana: “You! What’s your name?”
Momo, startled, had blinked at her in confusion.
Momo: “Uh… Momo.”
Sana: “Great! Hold still.”
The next thing Momo knew, there was a bright flash, and the camera clicked.
Momo: “What are you doing?”
Sana (grinning): “Taking a picture of my first friend. That way, when we grow up, we can look back and say, ‘Wow, we were so cute!’”
Momo had blinked at her again, unsure what to make of the overly confident girl in front of her. But when Sana giggled and pulled her toward the swings, something in Momo warmed. Momo glanced at the bulletin board over Sana’s desk, where a slightly faded version of that first picture was pinned next to a bunch of stylish outfit sketches and aesthetic photos of city streets. Sana had stuck with fashion and photography her whole life. While Momo spent her days training in dance studios, Sana was out photographing people, experimenting with outfit designs, and building a social media presence. And yet, despite their different interests, they had never drifted apart. Momo should have been happy about that. But instead, she spent every day suffocating under the weight of a crush that had started sometime in middle school and never left. She never told Sana. Never could. Because if she did, and Sana didn’t feel the same… She’d lose her best friend.
Momo zones back in when she hears sana excitedly spinning in her chair.
Sana: “You know I was thinking of going to the city this weekend to do a street photography shoot. Maybe hit a few thrift shops while I’m at it.”
Nayeon: “Translation: You’re going to drag Momo around as your personal model and shopping bag carrier.”
Sana pouted dramatically, rolling her chair to face them.
Sana: “Excuse you, Momo likes taking pictures with me. Right, Momo?”
Momo, who had modelled for Sana’s fashion experiments more times than she could count, shrugged.
Momo: “I mean, yeah, but do I have a choice?”
Nayeon: “That’s what I thought.”
Sana gasped in fake betrayal, dramatically flopping onto Momo’s bed.
Sana: “You’re all against me! I need a new roommate. One who appreciates my vision.”
Nayeon: “Good luck with that.”
Momo, biting back a smile, reached over and poked Sana’s cheek.
Momo: “You’d miss us too much.”
For a second, Sana just stared at her, eyes soft and unreadable. Then, she grinned and rolled off the bed.
Sana: “You’re right. I’d die without you two.”
Later that night, as Nayeon scrolled on her phone and Sana was sketching outfit designs in her notebook, Momo lay in bed, staring at the ceiling. She should have been asleep, but instead, her mind was stuck on that moment from earlier—how Sana had held her gaze for just a little too long. It meant nothing. It always meant nothing. And yet, Momo still let herself hope.
Just a little.
Just enough to hurt.
Dahyun stood in front of her new dorm, suitcase in one hand, campus map in the other, and a mild sense of impending doom settling in her stomach. Her parents had already left, and now it was just her, this unfamiliar campus, and two roommates she had never met before. She took a deep breath, hyped herself up internally “You got this, Kim Dahyun. New school, new life, let’s go!”, and pushed the door open. The first thing she noticed? A girl sitting cross-legged on the floor, surrounded by empty snack wrappers, sketching something in a notebook. The second thing? Another girl lying on her bed, casually flipping through a book, barely acknowledging her presence. Dahyun hesitated in the doorway.
Dahyun (nervously): “…Uh. Hi?”
The girl on the floor looked up immediately, eyes bright and curious.
Chaeyoung: “Oh! You must be the other one.”
The girl on the bed, without even looking up from her book, lazily nodded.
Tzuyu: “She has a name, Chaeyoung.”
Chaeyoung: “Yeah, yeah, I was getting there.”
She jumped to her feet, brushing snack crumbs off her lap, and stuck out a hand.
Chaeyoung: “I’m Chaeyoung. Welcome to the chaos.”
Dahyun awkwardly shook her hand, unsure what exactly she had just walked into. She set her suitcase down and took in the dorm. Chaeyoung’s side was an organized mess. Sketchbooks stacked on the floor, a half-eaten bag of chips, and a guitar leaning against the wall. Tzuyu’s side was freakishly neat. Everything perfectly arranged, books stacked in size order, a single plush toy sitting on her bed.
Dahyun (smiling nervously): “Nice to meet you! I’m Dahyun.”
Tzuyu finally looked up from her book, giving Dahyun a once-over.
Tzuyu: “You look younger than I expected.”
Dahyun: “…I’m literally the same age as you.”
Tzuyu: “Mmm. Sure.”
Chaeyoung snickered and plopped back down on the floor.
Chaeyoung: “Don’t mind her. Tzuyu doesn’t believe in age. Or emotions. Or human decency.”
Tzuyu: “False. I just have standards.”
Dahyun blinked, unsure if she had just walked into a dysfunctional friendship or a full-blown comedy duo.
Dahyun: “So… uh. How long have you two known each other?”
Chaeyoung: “We went to the same high school. She was all quiet and mysterious at first, and now she’s just a menace.”
Tzuyu (deadpan): “I was never mysterious. You were just easily impressed.”
Chaeyoung: “See what I mean?”
Dahyun grinned despite herself. She had no idea how she’d ended up with these two, but something about their energy was… fun.
Dahyun started unpacking her things while Chaeyoung casually picked through her stuff.
Chaeyoung: “Ooooh, you brought a ukulele?”
Dahyun (excitedly): “Yeah! I play sometimes.”
Chaeyoung: “Nice. We should jam sometime.”
Tzuyu (deadpan): “Oh no. More noise.”
Chaeyoung: “Tzuyu, I swear you’re like an old man in a teenager’s body.”
Tzuyu shrugged.
Tzuyu: “You’re just mad because I have taste.”
Dahyun laughed, feeling herself relax. She liked these two. Chaeyoung was fun, artsy, and a little chaotic and Tzuyu was sarcastic, quiet, but oddly entertaining. It was different from her home life, where everything was structured and familiar. But maybe that was a good thing.
Maybe this year would be… interesting.