Archive of Our Own ^beta

The Katseye dorm in Los Angeles isn’t really a dorm. It’s a furnished apartment that is sleek and modern and filled with early morning sun, tucked into a corner of West Hollywood that buzzes just enough to feel alive without being too loud. Their schedule was full: rehearsals, vocal lessons, interviews, late-night ramen on the balcony, and enough shared glances across the kitchen to make Yoonchae want to rip out her own hair.

The place had three bedrooms and six girls, so roommates. Naturally.

Sophia and Yoonchae shared the farthest room, the one with the slanted ceiling and the always-too-cold air conditioner. Lara and Megan shared the middle one, which was louder, messier, and smelled like lip gloss and laundry detergent. Yoonchae tried not to linger near that door.

She failed most days.

This was what she knew: Megan Skiendiel never walked. She bounced. She didn't talk. She chirped. Her hair changed depending on her mood and she had a different pair of earrings for every feeling under the sun. Today, it’s red hearts, and she wore them like sirens—loud, noticeable, magnetic.

Yoonchae noticed everything about Megan. The way her voice always rose at the end of a joke, the way she bounced slightly when she walked, the way her fingers fidgeted when she was trying not to be nervous. She noticed how Megan always gave the warmest part of the blanket away without realizing, how her laugh came easier when she thought no one was listening, and how she looked softest in the morning light, eyes still half-closed and hair a mess.

And the worst part was Yoonchae didn’t know when it started or why. Why out of all people, it had to be Megan. Loud, annoying, glittering, made-of-sunlight Megan.

She hadn’t meant to look. Hadn’t meant to notice. But once she did… she couldn’t unsee her.

It started quietly—barely there. Like waking up one day and realizing she was looking whenever no one else was. That her eyes would search for Megan in a room before she even realized it. That the sound of her laugh, loud and chaotic, grated on her nerves… until it didn’t. Until it started to feel like something was missing when she wasn’t there.

Yoonchae told herself she hated her. She reminded herself, often. But somewhere between the teasing and the silence, she started waiting for Megan’s voice. Started missing the warmth, the stupid jokes, the way she never once looked away when Yoonchae snapped or pushed.

She hadn’t meant to want her near. Hadn’t meant to feel anything at all.

But now, Megan was everywhere, and Yoonchae couldn’t make her leave. Not from her space. Not from her chest. Not even from her thoughts.

Megan, unfortunately, noticed almost nothing at all.

Not the stolen glances. Not the subtle flinches. Not the way Yoonchae lingered just a little too long when no one else was around. Megan existed like a bright, unstoppable force, completely unaware that someone just inches away was falling quietly to pieces every time she smiled.

“I’m gonna make pancakes,” Megan announced one morning, stretching her arms above her head like a cat waking from a nap. “Anyone want chocolate chips in theirs?”

“You’ve set the stove on fire before,” Sophia said without looking up from her iPad.

Megan pouted. “That was once.”

“Twice,” Yoonchae muttered into her glass of water. She wasn’t even thirsty. She just needed something to hold so she wouldn’t fidget.

Megan’s face lit up. “Yoonchae-yah, you want some? I’ll make you the ones shaped like hearts.”

Yoonchae blinked.

No, no, no.

“I don’t eat food made by amateurs,” she said flatly.

Megan just laughed like it was a compliment and returned to humming some off-key pop song. And Yoonchae turned away quickly before anyone noticed the way her ears had gone pink.

Being in a girl group with Megan is like being trapped in a romantic comedy where only one person knew it was a love story. Unfortunately, it wasn’t Megan.

Yoonchae had never crushed on anyone before. She had always been a little too sharp, a little too guarded. She didn’t like soft things. She liked control, clarity, and boundaries.

And then Megan showed up in her life like glitter spilled over carpet that's impossible to ignore and absolutely everywhere.

She’d laugh too loudly during late-night game nights. She’d steal Yoonchae’s hair clips and say they looked cuter on her. She’d fall asleep on the couch in the middle of horror movies and wake up to find someone (always Yoonchae) had put a blanket over her.

Yoonchae told herself she was being polite.

She told herself that a hundred times a day.

And then Megan would come into the practice room with her sweatshirt on inside out and a smoothie in hand and Yoonchae would forget how to stand upright like a human being.

The worst part is that Megan is affectionate with everyone.

She clung to Lara like a koala. Sat on Sophia’s lap sometimes. Did heart fingers with Manon and cuddled into Daniela’s shoulder during their long van rides. But none of it meant anything. Not really, not the way it did for Yoonchae.

One time Megan gave her a side hug after a particularly grueling vocal practice. “You sounded so pretty today,” she whispered, warm and close and absolutely devastating.

Yoonchae hadn’t recovered for three days.

But she masked it with sass.

“I know,” she’d replied coolly, even though her heartbeat was panicking like it was trying to punch its way out of her chest.

Sophia, who knew too much and said too little, just raised one eyebrow from across the room.

Later that night, Yoonchae stared at the ceiling while Sophia quietly braided her hair in the dark. The fan spun slowly above them. Megan’s laugh echoed from the living room where she was watching a dumb cooking show with Lara.

“I hate her,” Yoonchae said.

“Sure you do,” Sophia said.

—

One evening, after a long dance rehearsal, Megan flopped face-first into the couch and groaned.

“I’m dying,” she announced to no one in particular.

“You didn’t even finish the last run,” Yoonchae pointed out from the kitchen, arms crossed, leaning too casually against the counter.

Megan rolled over and pouted at her. “Don’t be mean to me, Yoonchip.”

That nickname.

Yoonchae turned away fast, opening the fridge like it was suddenly the most fascinating object in the world. “Don’t call me that.”

“But it’s cute.”

“I’m not cute.”

Megan giggled. “Okay. You’re not cute. You’re edgy and mysterious and kind of scary.”

Yoonchae didn’t respond. She was busy internally combusting.

She picked at the leftover strawberries in their container, chewing slowly to buy herself time. Megan came over a second later and leaned against her side.

She leaned her entire body against hers. Yoonchae didn’t breathe.

“This apartment’s too small,” Megan said, stealing a strawberry from her hand.

Yoonchae blinked. “Then go back to your room.”

Megan grinned. “Nah. You’re more fun to annoy.”

That night, Yoonchae wrote a full paragraph in her notes app titled Reasons I Need to Get Over Megan . It included:

She doesn’t even close cabinet doors.

She chews bubblegum like it’s a personality trait.

She wears socks that don’t match on purpose.

She hugged Manon twice today and didn’t even look at me during lunch.

Halfway down the list, she paused. Then she typed:

I think I’m falling in love with her.

Then she deleted it.

Then she wrote it again.

Then she deleted the whole list.

She turned off her phone and pulled the blanket over her head.

Sophia, across the room, whispered, “You’re being loud again.”

“I’m not doing anything.”

“You’re loving her out loud.”

Yoonchae buried her face into the pillow and screamed.

—

The rain had come out of nowhere. LA rarely got soaked, but when it did, the entire city slowed like it wasn’t built for softness. Practice had ended early, and their manager dropped them off in front of the apartment, saying something about “resting well before tomorrow’s full-day shoot.”

Lara and Sophia disappeared first, something about a new drama Sophia was hooked on. Manon and Daniela followed with cups of hot chocolate and a whispered plan to do their nails in their room. That left Yoonchae and Megan standing in the hallway, soaked from head to toe, half-laughing, half-shivering, while trying to open the door with a keycard that wouldn’t scan.

“Okay, is it broken or am I cursed?” Megan asked, squinting at the blinking red light.

“You’re just incapable of technology,” Yoonchae said, deadpan.

Megan turned to her with a dramatic gasp. “That’s rich coming from the girl who couldn’t figure out how to turn off the hotel bidet.”

Yoonchae’s jaw dropped. “That was one time!”

Megan started laughing, the real kind, full-body, head-tilted-back laughter. Yoonchae wanted to say something witty, maybe shut her up with another sharp one-liner. But all that came out was breath. Because Megan’s face was glowing under the dim hallway light, her wet bangs stuck to her forehead, her smile so wide it crinkled the corners of her eyes.

And she was close. So close that the warmth of her laugh settled right against Yoonchae’s throat.

“Let me try,” Yoonchae muttered quickly, snatching the keycard and hoping the tremble in her hand wasn’t too obvious. She scanned it. The light blinked green. The door clicked.

“Wow,” Megan said, eyes wide. “You're the hero I never knew I needed.”

Yoonchae pushed the door open with unnecessary force. “Get inside before I regret saving your life.”

They peeled off their jackets, dropped their bags, and stood for a moment in the quiet hum of the apartment. The others were already gone, bedroom doors shut. The living room smelled like citrus cleaner and lavender candles, probably Sophia’s doing.

“Movie?” Megan asked, already reaching for the remote. Megan insisted they should have a bonding session to catch up after being busy for weeks.

Yoonchae didn’t answer right away. Her heart was still doing somersaults. Megan's hair was dripping. She should go shower. She should go to her room. She should do anything but sit here, alone, on the couch.

“Yeah,” she heard herself say. “Sure.”

Megan beamed. “Yes! Something cute or something that ruins my soul?”

“You mean you have options outside those two extremes?”

Megan tossed a pillow at her and collapsed dramatically onto the couch. Yoonchae moved slower, carefully keeping space between them. But then Megan stretched. Arms up, legs crossed, hoodie riding up just slightly, and slumped against her side with a sigh.

Yoonchae’s breath stuttered.

She could feel Megan’s head against her shoulder. The softness of her hair. The faint scent of her shampoo. Strawberries and rain.

“Oh,” Megan said suddenly, tilting her face up. “Do you mind?”

Yoonchae blinked down at her. “What?”

“This,” Megan said, gesturing vaguely to the spot she was currently occupying. “Me being here.”

Yoonchae’s mind short-circuited. She wanted to say, “I mind so much I’m going to combust . ” She wanted to say, “I’ve literally thought about this moment in the middle of dance practice and hated myself for it.” Instead, she scoffed and looked away.

“You’re heavy.”

“I’m literally a feather.”

“You’re a dumb feather.”

Megan grinned. “You’re weirdly mean when you’re flustered.”

“I’m not flustered.”

“You kind of are.”

Yoonchae grabbed the remote and pointed it at the screen like it was a weapon. “Pick your stupid movie.”

Megan giggled and leaned in even closer. “You pick. I trust your taste. Except for that time you made us watch the three-hour skydiving documentary.”

“That was educational.”

“That was a nap in disguise.”

Yoonchae turned away so Megan wouldn’t see her smirk.

Half an hour into the movie, Yoonchae had stopped pretending to pay attention. Not because the plot was bad, some indie romcom about strangers falling in love via missed text messages, but because Megan had slowly started sliding further down the couch.

Now her arm was tucked behind Yoonchae’s back, and her hand was resting lightly against Yoonchae’s hip. Her head had dipped lower onto her shoulder. Her hair kept brushing against Yoonchae’s jaw. Her breathing was slow, calm, and comfortable.

Meanwhile, Yoonchae was internally screaming.

She kept her face neutral. Her eyes locked on the screen. But her thoughts were a full-blown emergency siren. Why is she touching me? Does she know what she’s doing? No, she doesn’t. She’s just like this. This is normal. She’d do this with anyone. Don’t read into it. Don’t read into it. Don’t—

“Yoonchip?” Megan mumbled, voice low and sleepy.

That nickname again.

Yoonchae inhaled too sharply.

“What,” she said, sharper than she meant to.

Megan didn’t seem to notice. “You’re warm. I like it.”

Yoonchae pressed her lips into a line.

“You’re not gonna, like… shove me off, right?” Megan asked softly.

Yoonchae glanced down. Megan was looking up at her, eyes big and a little tired, but open. So open, it hurt to look at her for too long.

She cleared her throat. “If I wanted to, I would’ve already.”

Megan smiled lazily and closed her eyes again. “Knew it. You secretly like me.”

Yoonchae’s heart stopped.

But Megan was joking. Her tone was light and teasing. She didn’t mean it. She had no idea.

Yoonchae scoffed quietly. “Keep dreaming.”

“You’ll admit it one day,” Megan hummed, drifting further into half-sleep. “Even if it takes years.”

Yoonchae stared at her.

What if I already have?

She didn’t say it out loud. She didn’t dare.

Instead, she sat there, stiff and aching and secretly, terribly happy. Megan was curled against her side, fast asleep by the time the credits rolled. Yoonchae didn’t move. Not even when her leg fell asleep. Not even when the screen went dark.

Because for one moment, Megan wasn’t fluttering around someone else. She wasn’t hugging Sophia. Or clinging to Lara. Or teasing Daniela. Or sharing chips with Manon.

For one quiet hour, she was Yoonchae’s.

Even if she didn’t know it.

—

The morning light in the Katseye apartment spilled golden through the kitchen window, soft and glowing, like something out of a photoshoot. Yoonchae stood barefoot on the cool tile, clutching a mug of hot tea she hadn’t even tasted, staring blankly at the toaster like it had wronged her.

She hadn’t slept.

Not properly.

She’d spent the night pinned to the couch, too afraid to move and wake Megan, too aware of every inch of contact between them. Her side still felt warm. Her brain hadn’t shut up since. Not once.

You’re warm. I like it.

The words kept replaying. Like a taunt. Like a dream.

She took a sip of tea and nearly choked when a voice spoke behind her.

“You’re up early.”

Megan.

Of course it's Megan.

Yoonchae’s spine stiffened. She didn’t turn around immediately. Just nodded, eyes fixed on the toaster as if it were some kind of emotional anchor.

Megan yawned behind her. “What time is it? Ugh. Why is the sun already out?”

“You could’ve closed the curtains like a functioning adult,” Yoonchae muttered, finally turning around.

Megan was rubbing her eyes with the sleeves of an oversized sweater. Her hair was a mess of tangled waves, her socks mismatched again—trawberries on one, smiley faces on the other. She looked like a walking Etsy moodboard and had absolutely no idea.

Yoonchae hated her.

Except she didn’t.

“Did you sleep well?” Megan asked, eyes half-lidded.

Yoonchae’s grip tightened around her mug. “Fine.”

“I feel like I drooled on you.”

“You did.”

Megan gasped. “Wait–seriously?! Ew! Why didn’t you push me off?”

“You were already unconscious. I didn’t want to break your neck.”

“Wow. So thoughtful.”

“I’m kind like that.”

Megan snorted and padded over to the fridge. “You know, I don’t think anyone gives you enough credit for being secretly sweet.”

Yoonchae looked down at her tea. “I’m not sweet.”

“You are.”

“I’m really not.”

“You let me sleep on your shoulder for a whole movie and didn’t even yell at me the next morning. That’s basically romance in your language.”

Yoonchae blinked.

Megan, oblivious, was rummaging through the fridge like she hadn’t just set fire to Yoonchae’s insides.

“Want eggs?” Megan asked. “I’m in a cooking mood.”

“No.”

“Toast?”

“I can make my own.”

“Wow, this kitchen energy is so hostile.”

“That’s because you’re invading it.”

Megan gasped dramatically, spinning around with an egg carton in hand. “I live here.”

Yoonchae took another sip, glaring. “Unfortunately.”

Megan grinned like it was a compliment.

She cracked an egg into a pan and started humming. Something upbeat and off-key, like always. Yoonchae watched her from the corner of her eye, trying not to notice how her sweater slid off one shoulder. How she swayed slightly while waiting for the eggs to cook. How she licked a bit of yolk off her finger like it wasn’t the single most unfair thing anyone had ever done.

“You’re staring,” Megan said suddenly, without turning around.

Yoonchae nearly dropped her mug. “I’m not.”

“You were.”

“I was not.”

“You totally were.”

Yoonchae forced herself to look at the wall. “You’re not that interesting.”

Megan turned then, smiling wide. “That’s funny, coming from the girl who practically watched me breathe yesterday.”

“I was watching the movie.”

“You were watching me snore.”

“I was watching the movie,” Yoonchae repeated, firmer this time, but her voice still cracked slightly at the end.

Megan squinted at her. “Are you okay? You’re weird today.”

“I’m always weird,” Yoonchae snapped too quickly.

“Okay, true,” Megan said, poking at the eggs. “But like, extra weird. Did I kick you in my sleep or something? Oh my God. Did I sleep-talk something embarrassing? Wait, did I confess my love for that movie character again? I’ve been having dreams–”

“You didn’t do anything.”

“Are you sure?”

Yoonchae said nothing.

Megan turned down the stove and came closer. Too close. She leaned against the counter beside Yoonchae, bumping their arms together like it was casual. Like her entire existence wasn’t an avalanche.

“You sure you’re okay, Chip?” she asked gently.

Yoonchae hated how her chest clenched at the nickname. She hated how Megan always said it like it belonged only to her. Like no one else in the world could get away with it.

“I’m fine,” she said flatly.

Megan tilted her head. “You seem… I don’t know. Like your brain’s doing jazz hands.”

“I’m just tired.”

“You didn’t sleep well?”

“Not really.”

“Because of me?”

Yoonchae opened her mouth, then closed it.

Megan’s expression shifted, just a bit. Less teasing and more thoughtful.

“You know…” she began, voice softening. “If I made you uncomfortable yesterday, you can just tell me. I won’t be hurt. I get clingy—like, all the time. I know that.”

Yoonchae fully looked at her. Megan’s lashes were still damp from sleep, and her lips were slightly chapped. There was a small indent on her cheek from a pillow.

She looked like a question Yoonchae didn’t know how to answer.

“You didn’t make me uncomfortable,” Yoonchae said, quieter this time. “You just… do things.”

Megan frowned. “Like what?”

“Like touch people. Say things. Hug them. Look at them like…” She stopped.

Megan blinked. “Like what?”

“Like it doesn’t mean anything.”

There was a beat of silence. Megan stared at her. “It doesn’t…? Wait–”

“I mean, it does,” Yoonchae said quickly, panicking. “It obviously means something to you. I’m not saying it doesn’t. You’re just… you’re very–ugh. Never mind.”

Megan tilted her head. “Did I do something wrong?”

“No!” Yoonchae said, louder than intended. “God, no. You’re just–you’re exhausting.”

Megan blinked. “That’s a little rude.”

“I’m always rude.”

“Yeah, but this feels personal.”

Yoonchae closed her eyes for a second, breathing in through her nose. “It’s not personal. I just… I don’t know how to be around you sometimes.”

Megan softened. “Why?”

Yoonchae didn’t answer.

And Megan didn’t push. She just stood there for a moment longer, studying her with a look that wasn’t quite confused, more curious. Maybe a little tender. Like she was starting to notice something but doesn't know what is it yet.

Then she smiled again, gentler now. “Well. I like you the way you are, even when you’re being weird and sassy and staring at me when you think I’m not looking.”

Yoonchae scoffed. “Delusional.”

“I’m observant.”

“You tripped over a laundry basket yesterday.”

“I’m emotionally observant.”

Yoonchae shook her head, biting back a smile.

Megan turned back to the stove, humming again.

Yoonchae stood in place, sipping her now-lukewarm tea.

And even though her brain was still a mess, and her heart was currently strangling itself inside her ribcage, she felt just the tiniest bit lighter.

Because Megan hadn’t pulled away.

Because Megan was still smiling.

Because somehow, impossibly, this was still her favorite kind of morning.

—

There were certain things Yoonchae couldn’t do after 11 PM.

She couldn’t check Megan’s Instagram story without spiraling. She couldn’t stare at the hoodie Megan had left on the arm of the couch without feeling guilty for wanting to bury her face in it. And most of all, she couldn’t trust herself to be alone on the balcony if she thought Megan might walk out there too.

So naturally, she did all of those things.

She didn’t mean to.

The air in the apartment was thick and quiet. Everyone had gone to sleep early, and that's a rare miracle. Sophia’s door was shut. Daniela and Manon’s room was dark. Lara had passed out with her earbuds in, and Megan…

Megan wasn’t in her bed.

Yoonchae knew, because she’d walked past their open bedroom door three times.

Just to get water , she told herself. Just thirsty.

But when she heard soft footsteps and saw the sliding balcony door creak open, she followed quietly. Like a moth to something brighter than it should be.

Megan didn’t hear her come out. She was sitting on the far end of the balcony couch, hoodie pulled tight around her neck, blanket over her knees, eyes tilted up toward the sky like she was trying to find answers in it.

Yoonchae stood by the door for a second, frozen.

Then Megan turned, and her face lit up when she saw her.

“Oh,” she whispered. “Hey.”

Yoonchae hesitated. “Hey.”

“I didn’t wake you, did I?”

“No.”

“Good.” Megan scooted over without asking. “Sit?”

Yoonchae’s legs moved before her brain agreed.

She folded onto the couch carefully, tucking one leg beneath her, leaving a polite space between them—not that it would last.

Megan offered half the blanket, and Yoonchae took it. It was warm from Megan’s body heat, and she hated how much that mattered.

“Couldn’t sleep?” Megan asked after a pause.

Yoonchae shook her head. “You?”

Megan shrugged. “I’ve had a lot on my mind.”

Yoonchae glanced over. Megan’s brows were knit, but not in her usual dramatic, exaggerated way. This was smaller and real.

“You okay?” Yoonchae asked, quieter.

Megan looked at her for a long moment, then back at the stars. “Yeah. I just… you ever feel like your head is too loud?”

Yoonchae blinked. That wasn’t the answer she expected.

“Like… everything’s fine,” Megan continued, “but it’s also not fine? And everyone expects you to be this person all the time, and most of the time you are that person. But then, suddenly, it’s too quiet and you’re alone and your brain’s like—‘Hey, let’s overthink everything you’ve ever said since 2009.’”

Yoonchae was staring now. Not out of shock but recognition.

She exhaled. “Yeah.”

Megan glanced at her. “Really?”

“You’re not the only one who overthinks.”

“You seem like the only one who doesn’t.”

“I’m good at pretending.”

Megan smiled faintly. “That makes two of us.”

They fell into silence again, but it wasn’t awkward—it was soft and shared. The kind that wrapped around them like a second blanket.

Yoonchae looked out at the Los Angeles skyline. The city lights blurred just slightly in the night haze, glittering like the kind of stars no one wished on because they were too artificial.

She heard Megan sigh beside her.

“I miss home sometimes,” Megan admitted. “Like, I love this—the group, the fans, the shows. But sometimes I miss my mom and our house. Even the weird neighbor who used to feed raccoons on purpose.”

Yoonchae let herself look.

Megan’s eyes were still on the city, but they were glassy now. Not crying, just full.

“I used to think moving to LA would solve everything,” Megan said softly. “That if I just got here and made it, everything else would click into place. But some nights… I don’t know. I feel like I left pieces of myself somewhere and forgot where I dropped them.”

Yoonchae’s heart ached.

Not in the I-like-you-so-much-it’s-unbearable kind of way. But in the real way. The ‘I want to hold every version of you together so none of them break’ kind of way.

“You don’t have to be the bright one all the time,” she said quietly.

Megan looked at her then, blinking.

“I know everyone sees you that way,” Yoonchae continued. “Loud, funny, and always on. But you don’t have to keep turning the lights on for everyone else if you’re sitting in the dark.”

Megan stared at her.

“Wow,” she whispered. “That was… like, really poetic.”

“I’m not being poetic.”

“I mean, you kind of are.”

Yoonchae rolled her eyes. “I’m serious.”

“I know,” Megan said, softer now. “I just… I’m not used to people seeing me like that. The quiet me. The real me.”

“I do.”

Megan blinked. “You do?”

Yoonchae froze.

A beat of silence passed. Her throat tightened. The words had slipped out without permission.

“I mean,” she added quickly, scrambling to soften it, “I notice stuff. That’s all.”

“What kind of stuff?”

Yoonchae looked away. “The way you rub your thumb when you’re nervous. How you make weird faces when you're listening to lyrics too hard. You only wear your cherry socks when you’re sad. You hum when you’re tired, and you laugh before you talk when you’re stalling.”

Megan didn’t say anything.

Yoonchae dared a glance.

She was just staring at her, not blinking, not moving.

Then she said, “That’s… weirdly specific.”

Yoonchae’s stomach dropped. “Sorry.”

“No–no,” Megan said quickly, reaching out to tug the blanket tighter over both of them. “I didn’t mean it like that. I just didn’t know you… noticed.”

“I notice too much,” Yoonchae muttered, hugging her knee to her chest.

Megan tilted her head. “Why?”

“What do you mean?”

“Why do you notice me so much?”

Yoonchae’s pulse roared in her ears.

Because you’re the only one I want to notice.

Because you make the world quieter when you’re near.

Because you smile like it’s the only thing you’ve never faked and I want to live in that smile for the rest of my life.

But she said none of it.

“I don’t know,” she whispered.

Megan didn’t press. She just leaned in gently, her shoulder brushing against Yoonchae’s.

Then, after a while, she said, “I’m glad you’re out here.”

“Why?”

“Because if I’d been out here alone, I think my brain would’ve eaten me alive.”

Yoonchae let herself smile just a little. “You could’ve woken me up.”

Megan shrugged. “You seem like the kind of person who hates being woken up.”

“I do.”

“See? You would've scowled and kicked me.”

“I still might.”

Megan laughed softly and leaned her head against Yoonchae’s shoulder.

Yoonchae stopped breathing.

“I like talking to you like this,” Megan murmured. “It feels… safe.”

Yoonchae swallowed. “Yeah.”

She didn’t move. Not even when her arm went numb. Not even when the wind got colder. She just sat there, heart in pieces, trying not to fall any further for a girl who’d just called her safe.

But for a little while, under a sky full of fake stars, Yoonchae let herself pretend.

That maybe Megan felt it too.

—

The apartment smelled faintly of popcorn and body lotion. Late afternoon sunlight filtered through the curtains, soft and golden, casting warm patches on the carpet and bathing the room in a lazy kind of calm. A movie rerun played on mute in the background, mostly ignored. Everyone was draped across bean bags and the big L-shaped couch like sleepy cats, limbs tangled, shoulders touching, phones charging in a corner.

Yoonchae had wedged herself in the crook of the couch, one leg tucked beneath her, half-listening to Lara and Daniela argue about who had the worst fashion phase in middle school. She wasn’t laughing; she was staring at Megan.

Megan, sprawled out on the rug with her head pillowed on a stuffed unicorn, was giggling into her phone. Something about her laugh made Yoonchae’s pulse jump. It was that kind of laugh that punched through the room, unfiltered and sunny, the kind of sound that made things bloom if you weren’t careful. Megan had glitter nail polish on again—chipped, but still somehow cute, and Yoonchae hated that she noticed it.

Sophia stretched her arms over her head with a yawn and got up. “I’m thirsty,” she mumbled. “Kitchen trip. Anyone want–”

“I’ll come,” Megan said instantly, springing up with more energy than anyone else had mustered all day. She shook her hair out dramatically and headed to the kitchen like a cartoon tornado, the unicorn plush still in her grip.

Sophia waved a hand and followed her.

Then, ten seconds later, Megan reappeared.

“Wait,” Megan said breathlessly. “Yoonchae-yah. Come help me choose a drink?”

Yoonchae blinked, and her brain lagged. “What?”

Megan grinned. “I can’t decide. You always pick better. Come oooon.”

The way she said it, ‘You always pick better’ —like it was the most obvious fact in the universe. Like Yoonchae had been giving her drinks for years and Megan had just stored that data away in her little glitter brain. Yoonchae’s throat went dry. She didn't move.

Everyone was watching now—casually, silently.

“Go, Yoonchae,” Sophia said smoothly from the hallway. “Don’t let her pick something gross again.”

Yoonchae stood up on autopilot. “I’m not a vending machine,” she muttered under her breath, brushing invisible lint from her shirt.

“Yeah, but you're a cute vending machine, always offering something interesting,” Megan teased, already skipping back toward the kitchen.

The air went static. Yoonchae’s foot missed the step off the couch.

“W-what?” she sputtered, eyes wide.

Megan didn’t even notice. “Hurry, before Sophia takes the last strawberry milk!”

Yoonchae followed her in a stunned daze, her face blazing.

Behind her, Lara raised a brow.

Daniela leaned close and whispered, “Did Megan just–”

“She doesn’t know what she said,” Sophia whispered back, sipping her drink like it was tea and not juice.

Manon covered her mouth. “But Yoonchae’s ears are red.”

They all stared after her, but no one said anything more.

The kitchen smelled like orange peels and toasted bread. Megan was crouched in front of the open fridge, hair spilling down like honey over her shoulders. She hummed something tuneless, wiggling a little as she examined the shelves.

Yoonchae stood near the counter, arms stiff, trying not to look like her entire soul had been body-snatched.

“I don’t know if I want milk or juice,” Megan said, voice bright and clueless. “Or like, one of those vitamin drinks Manon keeps buying.”

“You said strawberry milk,” Yoonchae said flatly, trying not to sound like she was on the verge of combustion.

Megan looked up. “Yeah, but now you’re here. So maybe you’ll pick something better.”

Yoonchae turned toward the sink to hide her face.

“I’m not magic,” she muttered. “You could’ve asked anyone else.”

“I didn’t want to ask anyone else.”

The words landed so softly, Yoonchae thought she might’ve hallucinated them. She turned back slowly.

“What?”

Megan straightened, two bottles in hand. “I said, can you open this one? My nails are wet.”

She walked over and stood entirely too close. The scent of her sweet and girly lotion hit Yoonchae like a punch. Megan held out the bottle, expectantly. She smiled, and Yoonchae could see the little dimple under her eye, the slight unevenness in her lashes.

“I could get Lara,” Yoonchae said, barely above a whisper.

Megan tilted her head. “But I want you.”

Yoonchae fumbled the bottle.

Megan blinked. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” Yoonchae snapped, wrenching the cap off and shoving the drink back at her like it had burned her fingers. “You’re annoying.”

Megan laughed, delighted. “You always say that, but I don’t think you mean it.”

Yoonchae’s whole body screamed in internal panic. She stared at the cabinets, praying to disappear.

“Thanks for opening it,” Megan said warmly. “You’re the best, Yoonchae-yah.”

Yoonchae wanted to slam her head against the marble counter.

Instead, she whispered, “Shut up,” so softly it barely existed.

Megan just grinned and Yoonchae walked back to the living room.

The living room was loud in the way only five exhausted girls could make it. Shoes kicked off in a heap by the door. A half-empty bowl of popcorn resting dangerously on the edge of the coffee table. 

Manon and Daniela were arguing over what movie to put on. Sophia was stretched across the armchair like a cat, one sock off, one sock on, scrolling through her phone with the exact amount of disinterest that said leader privileges . Megan stood at the counter separating the living room from the kitchen, fishing ice cubes out of the freezer with her bare hands.

Yoonchae had wedged herself into the corner of the couch, legs tucked under her, hoodie sleeves hiding her hands. She was pretending to watch the screen, though her gaze wandered more often than not to Megan—who was, as usual, glowing like some sunshine-drenched billboard for chaos. Her hair’s messy, and socks pulled up to her calves in a way that looked accidental but somehow still fashion-forward.

Megan was singing to herself loudly and off-key.

Yoonchae stared at the back of her head. Then immediately scolded herself for it. Look away. Don’t be stupid.

But she looked anyway.

“I swear if I have to hear the words 'ice ice baby' one more time,” Lara said, dragging herself onto the carpet with a dramatic groan, “I will actually start throwing things.”

“But I’m making it fun,” Megan grinned, turning around, clutching two glasses of iced tea. She brought one over to Lara and handed the other… to Yoonchae.

Yoonchae blinked.

It wasn’t just the drink.

Megan leaned down just a little. Just enough that her hand brushed Yoonchae’s knee when she set the glass on the coffee table, and she whispered in this conspiratorial tone like they were sharing a secret, “Made yours extra cold. You always get warm tea first.”

Yoonchae froze.

She was sure, absolutely sure, her soul just left her body.

There was nothing particularly dramatic about Megan’s words. Or her tone. Or the way she was now happily flopping onto the rug beside Lara. But something about it, all of it, felt… different.

She noticed that?

Yoonchae stared at the glass like it had committed a crime.

Sophia glanced sideways from the armchair, not even lifting her head. There was a twitch at the corner of her mouth—amused and knowing.

Yoonchae gripped her sleeves tighter. “Thanks,” she managed, voice steady and cool.

Too cool.

Megan didn’t even hear it. She was already stealing popcorn from Manon’s lap and arguing about whether it was fair for her to choose the next movie because, technically, she hadn’t picked in three days, even if yesterday kind of counted.

Yoonchae took a sip of the tea.

It was very cold, but her ears were hot.

Later that night, the girls curled up in blankets watching a movie, lights dimmed.

Yoonchae wasn’t even sure what movie was playing anymore. Something involving explosions, or maybe spies. Megan had ended up next to her at some point. How? Yoonchae couldn’t remember. They were sharing the same fluffy blanket. Megan’s shoulder was brushing hers every time she laughed, which was often.

Megan laughed like she didn’t know how loud she was. Like she didn’t care. It was bright and reckless and beautiful and warm, and Yoonchae was dying.

Internally, of course.

On the outside, she looked fine—probably and hopefully. She hoped no one could hear her heart pounding like a thunderstorm in her ribcage.

“Are you cold?” Megan suddenly turned to her, whispering so closely that Yoonchae caught the scent of cherry lip balm. “You’re all tense.”

“I’m fine,” Yoonchae said. She said it too fast. Too defensively. “Just watching.”

“You always get like this during thrillers,” Megan giggled. “Want me to shield your eyes when the car blows up?”

“I’m not twelve.”

“Okay, Miss Seventeen-And-A-Half-Year-Old,” Megan teased, grinning wide.

Yoonchae turned her head, half-glaring, half-panicked. Megan was too close. Her knee brushed against hers under the blanket. Megan didn’t even flinch, but Yoonchae did.

“Okay,” Megan said after a beat, voice gentler now, “Just let me know if you get scared.”

“I won’t,” Yoonchae said. It came out quiet and croaky. Not sounding confident at all.

But Megan just smiled and went back to watching the screen.

Sophia, two seats away, sipped her juice box like it was wine. She didn’t say a word. But her eyes flicked knowingly toward Yoonchae again.

Yoonchae buried her face deeper into the blanket.

After the movie, everyone dispersing, group in the kitchen and grabbing water before bed.

Manon yawned so hard her entire face scrunched. “I’m brushing first.”

Daniela followed her. “If you use my strawberry toothpaste again, I’m cutting your eyelashes in your sleep.”

“Worth it,” Manon smirked.

Sophia trailed behind them with Lara, leaving Megan and Yoonchae alone by the fridge. Megan was fiddling with a grape-flavored jelly cup.

“I can’t open this. My mortal enemy has returned,” Megan muttered, trying to peel the lid. “Why is it always grape? Grape probably hates me.”

Yoonchae, who had successfully opened her own cup just seconds ago, reached out without thinking.

“Give it,” she said.

Megan blinked at her. “Wait, are you gonna–”

Yoonchae peeled it open in one swift motion and handed it back. There was a bit of jelly on her thumb.

Megan gasped. “Yoonchae! Are you a jelly master?”

Yoonchae rolled her eyes. “You’re just weak.”

Megan leaned closer, beaming. “No, no. That was so smooth. I think I just fell in love.”

Yoonchae choked.

On air. On gravity. On every life decision she had ever made.

“What?”

“Huh?” Megan blinked. “I said I think I just fell in love—with the jelly cup. Because now I can eat it.”

Yoonchae’s expression didn’t move, but her ears turned pink. She hoped the fridge light was dim enough to hide it.

And thankfully, Megan didn’t notice. She was already digging in, humming happily.

Sophia, from the hallway, peeked in again. “Yoonchae.”

“What.”

“You good?”

“Fine.”

Sophia raised a brow. “Sure.”

Yoonchae turned back to the fridge, and Megan offered her a spoonful. “Want some?”

She didn’t even look at her. “No.”

Her voice cracked.

Megan didn’t hear.

Sophia definitely did.

And that is what Yoonchae hates even more—Megan never noticed.

—

The floor pulsed under the bass of the track they’d been rehearsing for hours. “Click Click,” third run-through, maybe fourth. Sophia had stopped counting. The mirrors were foggy with heat. Water bottles lined the walls like forgotten soldiers. Somewhere in the back corner, Lara was stretching her shoulder and mumbling to herself. Daniela was spinning around to shake off muscle tension, her ponytail whipping behind her like a pendulum. Manon was on the floor again, flat like a starfish, groaning dramatically.

Megan, of course, was still dancing.

The speaker clicked off with a beep. The room went still. For the first time in two hours, Megan's breath finally caught up to her—loud, quick gasps. Some of her hair stuck to her forehead and a streak of glitter from their stylist’s earlier test-run sparkled on her cheekbone.

"Can we do that part again? From the second pre-chorus," Megan said, bouncing on the balls of her feet. “My arm looked weird, like a flailing carrot.”

Sophia blinked slowly. “A flailing what?”

“Carrot,” Megan repeated, grinning, then pointed to her elbow. “See? My arm’s not doing the thing. It’s too… vegetable-y.”

Yoonchae, leaning against the mirrored wall, had been quietly gulping water—until Megan’s voice hit her like a sharp twist to the ribs.

She choked.

It wasn’t dramatic or anything. Just a short, involuntary cough. But it was enough for everyone to turn.

“You okay?” Sophia asked, narrowing her eyes.

“I’m fine,” Yoonchae muttered, too fast.

Megan spun toward her, hair flying. “Wait, what happened? Did I say something weird?”

Yoonchae stared, wide-eyed, like she’d been caught doing something illegal. “No,” she said—again, too fast. “You just… talked.”

Daniela snorted.

Megan tilted her head slowly. “Talked?”

“Yes.” Yoonchae cleared her throat. “You talked and… your voice was loud, and you startled me. Not that I was listening or anything.”

A beat of silence. Megan blinked, her hands falling to her sides.

Then, laughter burst from her lips. “Yah! You’re the one who jumps every time someone sneezes too close. You’re jumpy.”

Yoonchae tried to look offended, which might’ve worked better if the tips of her ears weren’t turning red.

“I’m not jumpy,” she said flatly.

Megan grinned. “You’re like a startled cat.”

Yoonchae shot her a look. “Do I look like I have fur?”

“You do sometimes.” Megan stepped forward, still grinning. “Especially when you’re annoyed. Your hair fluffs, and it’s cute.”

Something in the air shifted.

Yoonchae’s heart lurched violently.

It's cute?

She felt it in her stomach, the way a boat might tip when the waves get too bold. Her hands stiffened at her sides. Don’t blush, don’t blush, do not blush . She bit the inside of her cheek.

Sophia cleared her throat loudly.

“Alright,” she said, clapping once. “Let’s not spiral into whatever this is. Megan, we’ll take it again. Yoonchae, hydrate. And stop looking like you just saw a ghost.”

“I’m fine,” Yoonchae hissed under her breath, facing the mirror now, trying to focus on her stance. On literally anything except the fact that Megan had said she was cute.

Behind her, she could see Megan moving back to her spot, bouncing as usual. Then Megan looked into the mirror and their eyes met.

It was a second too long and Yoonchae tore her gaze away.

“From the pre-chorus!” Sophia called out and the music started again.

Yoonchae’s chest still hadn’t settled. Not from the dance, but from Megan.

Every time Megan brushed past her in formation, her skin prickled. During a group formation, Megan’s hand grazed her lower back, not even intentionally, but it sent a lightning bolt up her spine.

She panicked. Internally screamed.

And Megan?

Smiled at her like sunshine. Said, “Nice recovery,” when she nearly tripped.

Yoonchae almost evaporated.

After the first set, the music finally stopped. Sophia signaled a break, and the members scattered again. Lara tossed a towel at Megan, who caught it midair and draped it dramatically over her head.

Yoonchae sank down next to the wall, letting her head thud back against the mirror. Her legs felt like jelly, her lungs were on fire, and her thoughts were just Megan. Megan, Megan, Megan. Megan and the word cute . Megan and the hand that brushed her back. Megan smiling at her in the mirror.

She pulled out her phone and stared at it like it might save her from drowning.

Sophia walked by, slow and suspicious, then stopped.

“You good?” she asked under her breath, kneeling down beside Yoonchae with one brow raised.

Yoonchae blinked up at her. “What?”

Sophia didn’t answer. Just tilted her head a little, eyes flicking over Yoonchae’s red ears, then over at Megan who was now shoving water bottles into her bag and completely oblivious.

Sophia smirked. “Thought so.”

Yoonchae panicked.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she said.

Sophia stood up and patted her head. “That’s what I said too once,” she replied. “You’ll learn.”

Before Yoonchae could process what that meant, Megan called out, “Yoonchae! Do you want that honey jelly drink again? The peach one?”

Yoonchae forgot how to breathe for a second. Her voice came out choked. “Why?”

“Because you said you liked it?” Megan shrugged. “I can grab one on the way home if you want. I’ll steal Lara’s car. She won’t notice.”

“I–” Yoonchae started, then swallowed. “Okay.”

Megan flashed her a thumbs up. “I knew you’d say yes. You always pretend you don’t want it and then drink half of mine anyway.”

Yoonchae’s entire soul left her body.

During the second set, Yoonchae wasn’t even looking at Megan when it happened. She was focused on the mirrored wall, arms raised, face calm, that serious dancer expression tightening her brows while the choreographer counted beats like a metronome. The song started again, a bass-heavy loop of their upcoming title track that pulsed through the hardwood floor.

Megan, like always, danced with that chaotic spark she carried in everything—messy hair, bouncing rhythm, a wide grin she gave even while sweating through reps. She was never robotic with choreography. It was like watching sunlight trying to hit every corner of the room.

Yoonchae didn’t even realize Megan was behind her until–

"Yoonchae, switch with me real quick!" Megan said, bounding forward mid-run-through to change position in the formation. Her hand landed on Yoonchae’s shoulder lightly as she passed.

That was it.

Just a hand. Just a brush of fingers.

Yoonchae didn’t flinch on the outside. Her body held the line. Her chin didn’t move. But inside?

Oh.

Oh.

Her chest jumped so hard it felt like her bones rattled. Her brain short-circuited, and she missed the next step.

"Yoonchae?" Sophia's voice from across the room.

Yoonchae shook her head lightly, already mortified, and muttered, "Sorry. Slipped."

She caught Megan peeking over her shoulder, eyes a little wide. "You okay?" Megan asked, breathless.

"I'm fine." Yoonchae forced her voice sharp and steady, just to smother whatever had cracked open inside her. “Just stay in your line next time.”

"Geez. Okay, bossy." Megan rolled her eyes but smiled anyway and jogged back to her new spot.

Yoonchae took two seconds to breathe in through her nose and out through her mouth. She could feel her heartbeat in her ears. Could feel Daniela watching her. She could see Sophia’s glance in the mirror.

No one said anything. But she knew.

They knew.

Later that night, the table was loud, as usual. Manon and Lara were bickering over the correct way to store leftovers. Sophia kept stealing pieces of Daniela’s chicken. Megan had walked in with her hair still damp from a quick shower, wearing a giant white hoodie that swallowed her whole and shorts that didn’t even peek past the hem. Yoonchae had been setting the last bowl of rice on the table when she turned, saw Megan barefoot and humming a song under her breath–

And she dropped the spoon.

“Whoa! You okay?” Megan reached down to pick it up, nearly bumping into her.

"I'm fine. It's–it slipped," Yoonchae muttered again, grabbing another from the drawer with too much force it almost loosen the screws of the drawer’s handle.

She kept her back to the others.

Daniela nudged Manon with a quiet smirk after witnessing Yoonchae's internal distress.

Megan tilted her head a little as she settled beside Yoonchae at the table. “You’ve been jumpy all day.”

“I’m not jumpy.”

“You flinched earlier when I touched your shoulder.”

“I didn’t flinch.”

“You blinked like I tased you.”

Yoonchae grabbed her chopsticks too quickly. “Maybe you should be tased.”

“Ouch,” Megan grinned, but she leaned closer anyway. “Why? So you wouldn’t get so shy around me?”

Yoonchae stopped chewing. The noodles in her mouth were suddenly the texture of wet paper. She suddenly swallowed wrong, earning a light cough.

But Megan didn’t notice. She turned to Lara, already laughing about something else, easily moving on like she hadn’t just tilted Yoonchae’s whole world off its axis again.

Across the table, Sophia raised one brow and passed Yoonchae the water pitcher without saying a word.

After the dinner, the girls lounged on the couch while staff emails and weekly rehearsal videos played on the screen. Sophia and Daniela were already half-asleep with their heads pressed together. Manon scrolled through her iPad. Megan sat crisscross on the floor with her head against Lara’s knee, swaying slightly to the background track.

Yoonchae had positioned herself in the farthest armchair. She kept her eyes on the video, or tried to. But her gaze kept sliding sideways toward Megan. The way she tugged at the drawstrings of her hoodie. The way her fingers tapped the floor when she wasn’t thinking. How soft her voice became when she talked about music. How oblivious she was. And how much that made Yoonchae ache.

She didn’t want this. She hadn’t asked for it. This wasn’t a crush; this was something stupid and too big and—

She watched as Megan turned toward her, suddenly catching her gaze.

Yoonchae looked away so fast her neck cracked.

Megan tilted her head. Just slightly.

She didn’t say anything.

But for the first time, she didn’t laugh it off.

She looked at Yoonchae a little longer than usual. Thoughtful. Like maybe… just maybe she had noticed something.

Then Lara dropped a blanket over Megan’s head, and the moment scattered.

It was nearing midnight. The air smelled like leftover sun and asphalt, with a breeze sharp enough to chase sweat from skin. The rooftop wasn’t anything special. Just concrete tiles, a couple plastic chairs, and a view of the glowing skyline but it was private.

Yoonchae sat alone, knees drawn up, a hoodie thrown over her tank top and shorts. She hadn't expected anyone else to come up.

So when she heard the creak of the rooftop door behind her, she froze.

And then groaned, barely turning her head.

“Go away.”

Megan’s voice came light and curious. “You always say that when you mean ‘stay.’”

“I mean ‘go.’”

“Okay,” Megan replied. A pause for a moment but said, “I’m staying.”

Yoonchae let out a dramatic sigh.

Megan walked over anyway, plopping herself down cross-legged beside her without asking. The silence that followed wasn’t uncomfortable. It was full of quiet city hum, a plane slicing the sky above them, and the low rumble of music from a neighbor’s club that is several streets away.

“You always come up here alone?” Megan asked after a while, resting her chin on her knees.

“Sometimes,” Yoonchae replied flatly. “When I want peace.”

“I’m peaceful.”

“You’re not.”

“Duh, I can be.”

Yoonchae glanced at her. “You literally hum when you eat rice.”

“I can hum quietly.”

“You don’t know what quiet means.”

“I know you’re being mean.”

“I’m always mean to you.”

Megan gave her a fake-pained expression. “And yet I keep coming back. What does that say about me?”

“That you’re desperate?”

Megan grinned. “Or maybe I just like annoying you.”

Yoonchae didn’t answer.

She just looked out over the buildings again, as if the city could explain what was happening to her heart lately.

Then Megan’s voice turned softer. “You were weird today.”

Yoonchae’s eyes narrowed slightly, still facing forward. “I’m always weird.”

“No, you were Yoonchae-weird , like… even more than usual.”

Yoonchae looked at her. “Is that supposed to be an insult?”

“No.” Megan shook her head. Her soft hair swayed gently. “Just an observation. You dropped a spoon when I walked in. Flinched when I touched your shoulder. You didn’t even yell at me when I stole your spot in formation—you just stared at me like I had a third eye.”

“I didn’t flinch.”

“You blinked like I slapped you with a fish.”

Yoonchae pursed her lips. “You’re imagining things.”

“I don’t think I am,” Megan said, more seriously now. “Something’s up.”

“Nothing’s up.”

“You sure?”

Yoonchae said nothing.

Megan leaned in a little. “Because if something’s bothering you…”

Yoonchae turned, slowly, face unreadable.

“You’ll what?” she asked.

Megan hesitated for half a beat, then smiled with fake sincerity. “I’ll poke you repeatedly until you admit it.”

“I hate you.”

“That’s not an answer.”

Yoonchae gave a small, tired laugh under her breath. It sounded reluctant but it was there.

Megan tilted her head, watching her.

“…You smile more when it’s just me,” she said quietly.

Yoonchae’s eyes flicked to her, startled.

“I mean,” Megan said quickly, “Not like that. Just—I’ve noticed. You laugh with Sophia and the others, but with me, it’s always like… you’re trying not to.”

Yoonchae's breath hitched, but she looked back out at the skyline again. “You’re imagining things.”

“I’m not.”

Silence.

“I notice stuff,” Megan continued. “You think I’m all jokes and chaos, but I see things. Like the way your voice goes tight when I’m next to you. Or how you don’t move away when I lean close, even though you act like you want to bite me.”

Yoonchae stared ahead, chest tight.

“And today,” Megan added, softer now. “You looked like you were gonna pass out when I touched you.”

Yoonchae didn’t respond for a long time.

Then finally, she turned, looked Megan straight in the eyes, and said, deadpan, “Maybe you smell.”

Megan burst out laughing, the sound echoing into the open night.

“That’s your excuse?” she giggled. “You’re shy because I smell?”

“Desperately.”

“God, I knew I shouldn’t have used that lavender shampoo.”

Yoonchae tried to suppress a smirk.

Really tried.

And Failed.

Megan caught it. Her eyes widened like a kid who’d caught a rare Pokémon.

“Wait–was that a smile?” she gasped.

“It wasn’t.”

“It was!”

“It wasn’t, shut up.”

“Oh my God,” Megan clutched her chest, pretending to be wounded. “Yoonchae smiled at me on purpose, not by accident. I feel like I’ve just seen a shooting star.”

“I will shove you off this rooftop.”

Megan leaned in closer with a grin, her face practically glowing now.

“…Do you like me or something?”

Yoonchae stiffened.

Megan laughed again—nervous this time, realizing what she’d said.

“I mean–” she backtracked. “Like, not like that, just… like as a person. You know. As a bandmate. Or a friend. A friend you hate.”

Yoonchae, heart punching her ribs, kept her expression neutral.

“I tolerate you.”

“That’s the nicest thing you’ve ever said to me.”

They both fell into silence again. But it felt different now. Quieter. More real.

Megan turned her head to look at her.

“Hey, Chip.”

“…What?”

“I’m not trying to mess with you, okay? I just like being around you.”

Yoonchae’s heart dropped straight into her stomach.

Megan didn’t notice how still she’d gone. Or maybe she did, and just didn’t say anything more.

They sat there for a while, side by side, the quiet humming between them. And for a second, Yoonchae let herself feel it. The closeness, the warmth, the way Megan's knee nearly brushed hers and how every part of her was aware of it.

Megan didn’t press her. She didn’t ask more questions. She just stayed.

And Yoonchae was so glad she did.

—

The next morning, rehearsals ran late.

It was one of those days where everything felt sticky with heat and tiredness. A music video shoot was around the corner, and the pressure from the label was thick in the air. Sophia barked corrections, Manon kept adjusting her hair between water breaks, Lara hummed to herself in front of the mirror, and Daniela did pirouettes in the back just for fun.

Megan was in the center of the room, swinging her hair back after a full-out dance run, pretending not to stare at Yoonchae who had done the entire choreography with so much precision, Megan almost forgot to breathe.

But she wasn’t just watching her because of that.

It was what had happened last night. The way Yoonchae froze when Megan handed her that spoon. The way her voice changed. Her ears. Her eyes. Her sass was still intact, but there was a kind of... delay. A flicker.

And the rest of the group noticed too.

Even Sophia had looked at Yoonchae for a beat too long before going back to her rice.

Also, Yoonchae’s reaction during their close proximity on the rooftop was unusual, especially when she joked about whether Yoonchae liked her. She expected Yoonchae to sass her or tell her to leave, but instead, she went stiff—like something that should have been kept hidden had just been exposed.

So now Megan sat on the floor, cross-legged, pretending to retie her shoelaces, her lips curling slowly.

Test number one.

The one where she’d push just a little, do something stupid or cheesy or unfiltered, and wait to see if Yoonchae would roll her eyes or walk away.

Would she snap back? Would she freeze up? Or would she stay?

She rose, towel slung over her shoulder. With fake casualness, she walked across the studio toward where Yoonchae stood in front of the fan, sipping her water bottle with her face turned to the breeze.

Megan dropped down beside her and flopped backward dramatically on the floor.

"God," she groaned, "I swear I sweat more than a waterfall."

Yoonchae glanced down, barely sparing her a blink. "That's disgusting."

"And accurate," Megan replied, grinning. "Here. Feel how soaked my back is." She rolled onto her side, casually grabbing Yoonchae’s hand—actually grabbing it and trying to slap it against her own back.

Yoonchae made the smallest, strangest noise. Sort of a gasp, but compressed like it got stuck in her throat.

Her body jolted, stiffening completely. She didn't even try to pull her hand away, as if her brain forgot that part.

Megan stifled a smirk.

“See?” Megan said. “I’m basically soup.”

“You’re... unbelievable,” Yoonchae said, her voice brittle, her hand retracting now like it had touched fire. She rubbed her palm on her sweatpants and looked away too fast.

"Aw, don’t act like you’re not obsessed with me," Megan teased, fully expecting a snarky comeback.

But Yoonchae didn’t say anything. Her mouth opened, then closed again, and she blinked fast.

Then she walked away.

Straight past Megan.

Straight to the water cooler, like she was escaping.

Megan stared after her.

Oh, Yoonchae.

—

Test number two.

They were all practicing transitions. Moving from verse to chorus in a new formation. Sophia was counting beats. Yoonchae stood a little behind Megan’s left side, a half-step back, which meant her hand naturally brushed Megan’s arm every time they turned out of the chorus line.

Megan waited until Sophia gave a break, then casually moved her own arm behind her, feigning a stretch and placing it gently but obviously behind her, just enough to make contact with Yoonchae’s fingers.

Barely a touch.

But Megan could feel it.

Yoonchae completely froze. Like her programming glitched.

Megan didn’t look at her. She kept talking with Daniela, pretending not to notice.

But she heard the breath Yoonchae let out. Shaky and barely audible. And then Yoonchae shifted her stance and tied her hair up—unnecessarily. A distraction.

Lara gave Megan a look across the room.

Megan gave her an innocent smile.

Then Megan’s eyes flicked toward Yoonchae.

The girl was standing ramrod straight now. Like she’d rather launch herself out the window than be near Megan’s elbow again.

Megan bit the inside of her cheek.

She still wasn’t sure.

Not completely.

But she was getting closer.

So for now, she just smiled and went back to rehearsal.

—

Test number three would have to be a little sneakier.

They were all winding down for the night.

Manon and Daniela were finishing up a TikTok challenge in the living room, Lara was on FaceTime with someone from her vocal class, and Sophia was reviewing choreography in the corner with earbuds in.

Yoonchae, as usual, was grabbing her evening chamomile tea, hoodie softly brushed against her skin, and hair tied into a loose bun.

Megan leaned on the kitchen counter, eyes sharp but playful.

"So," she said lightly, watching Yoonchae stir in her honey, "do you think I’m... kissable?"

Yoonchae’s hand jerked. The spoon clanged against the side of the mug.

“What?” she said, almost choking.

Megan fought a smirk. "Like, in general. Do I look like someone who’d be good at kissing? I asked Lara earlier, and she told me that I looked like someone who doesn't know how to kiss."

"Why are you—what kind of question is that?"

"I’m curious! For science."

"For–" Yoonchae looked at her like she’d lost her mind.

Megan leaned closer, voice lower. “You didn’t answer.”

“I’m not answering that.”

“That means yes,” Megan singsonged.

"It means I’m ignoring you." Yoonchae turned around too quickly, sipping her tea way too fast. Her cheeks were tinged red now. Megan could see it, even with the kitchen lights dim.

“Aw, you’re so shy,” Megan whispered teasingly, stepping a little closer. “You don’t have to admit it. I know I’m irresistible.”

Yoonchae turned around to face Megan again.

She tried to raise a brow. She tried to smirk, and it almost worked, but her ears were scarlet and her voice cracked slightly when she said, “Please. You’re allergic to subtlety.”

Megan laughed. “Is that a compliment?”

“No,” Yoonchae said, stepping past her again but her hand brushed Megan’s by accident.

And Yoonchae flinched. Not dramatically, just a twitch, a breath, like her skin was made of static.

Megan smiled, watching Yoonchae’s retreating figure.

Maybe the test had gone too well.

—

Test number four.

It was after practice. Hours past sunset. Their final vocal run-through dragged long after Sophia had told them it would be quick, and by the time they exited the practice building, the sky had turned indigo and the streetlights were low and golden.

They usually split into pairs when heading back to the apartment. Lara with Megan. Manon with Dani. Sophia and Yoonchae. But that night, Megan lingered behind on purpose.

“I forgot my phone,” she said, too casual.

Yoonchae raised a brow. “Again?”

“Don’t judge me,” Megan sang, disappearing back inside the building.

But her phone was in her hoodie pocket. She waited just long enough, watching the rest of the girls disappear around the corner. Then she darted outside, spotting Yoonchae a few feet ahead, walking alone under the lamplight.

Perfect.

She jogged to catch up.

“Hey,” Megan breathed, slipping in beside her, hands in her pockets, trying to look innocent.

Yoonchae’s eyes widened. “Didn’t you–?”

“Lied,” Megan grinned. “I wanted to walk with you.”

Yoonchae stopped mid-step.

It wasn’t the words. It was the tone, it was too soft. And the way Megan looked at her—easy, warm, teasing.

Yoonchae’s heart did a flip and landed wrong.

“You’re weird,” she said, a little too late, a little too shaky.

But she kept walking. Megan fell into stride beside her. The sidewalk was quiet. The streetlamps buzzed faintly overhead. Somewhere, a car passed, but otherwise it was just the crunch of their sneakers.

“So,” Megan began after a moment, “do you like late-night walks?”

“I don’t… think about them,” Yoonchae muttered.

Megan smiled at that. She bumped her shoulder against hers. “You’re doing one now. With me.”

“Don’t remind me,” Yoonchae said quickly, turning her face the other way—but her cheeks betrayed her. Pink, vivid, and rising fast.

Megan caught it from the corner of her eye and bit her lip.

Test four had begun.

She took a breath. “You know what I like about these walks?”

Yoonchae didn’t answer.

Megan looked up at the stars. “They feel quiet. Like the world slows down just a bit. Like I can hear myself think.”

Yoonchae tried to calm her breathing. She was sure Megan could hear her heartbeat now. That’s how loud it was.

“You think a lot?” she asked, just to distract herself.

Megan nodded. “Lately, yeah.”

“About?”

She was not ready for the answer.

“You.”

Yoonchae’s entire body stopped. Literally. She stopped walking, mouth parting, head turning sharply toward Megan.

Megan turned to her too. Her tone was easy. But her eyes were watching closely.

“…Me?” Yoonchae asked, voice cracking embarrassingly.

“Mm-hmm.”

“Why?”

“I’ve just been wondering,” Megan shrugged. “Like, what you’re like. Outside of rehearsals. Outside of Katseye. You never let me in.”

“I—I don’t–” Yoonchae stammered. Her entire throat locked up. “I do.”

“No, you sass me and run away.”

“Because you’re annoying.”

“Am I annoying now?” Megan asked, stepping closer.

Too close.

Their shoulders brushed again, but this time Megan didn’t step away.

Yoonchae felt her legs freeze. Her knees screamed to run. Her lungs begged for air. Her mind was in complete, irreversible shutdown.

“N-No,” she whispered. “I mean–yes. Always.”

Megan giggled, and Yoonchae looked like she might pass out.

And then… Megan did something unspeakable. She reached out and tucked a strand of hair behind Yoonchae’s ear.

Softly. Carefully. Like she had every right.

Yoonchae actually stopped breathing, unable to process what’s happening.

“There was something on your face,” Megan lied, voice barely a whisper.

She didn’t move her hand right away.

Yoonchae could feel her fingertips brushing her skin.

She blinked rapidly.

She could hear her blood rushing in her ears.

She could feel every inch of space between them—which was none.

And just when she was about to combust, Megan stepped back and smiled like nothing had happened.

“Let’s go,” Megan said lightly. “It’s cold.”

And she started walking again.

Yoonchae stood frozen under the streetlight for three seconds before realizing her legs still worked. She scrambled to follow, eyes wide, face burning.

Her insides were gone. They had sprawled. They had melted. She was done for.

Meanwhile, Megan hummed to herself.

And smirked.

Megan was four for four, everything falling into place.

But something was happening. Something quiet and hidden, but real. Something that made her heart stutter just a little more than she wanted it to.

She didn’t know what to do with that yet.

But maybe, just maybe, she was beginning to panic too.

—

Test number five. The final test.

This one is riskier.

It had been four days since their late-night walk.

Four days since Megan tucked Yoonchae’s hair behind her ear and nearly sent her spiraling into the sun.

Since then, something has changed. Yoonchae barely made eye contact anymore. She stumbled over her words when Megan walked into the room. She dropped her phone twice. Once, she even forgot her own water bottle in the dance studio, and Yoonchae never forgot anything .

Megan saw all of it.

And tonight, she was ready to end the game.

Just one final push.

One last, unmistakable test.

Something no one could write off as “just Megan being Megan.”

It was movie night in the living room. All six of them were curled up on the couch, surrounded by pillows and popcorn bowls and blankets. Someone had put on a cheesy romance. Manon and Dani were squished at one end, half-asleep. Lara was lying upside down on the floor. Sophia was on the single chair, watching with half a smile.

And Megan?

She sat in the middle of the couch.

Next to Yoonchae.

Close.

Too close for Yoonchae's comfort.

Yoonchae was stiff. Like a statue. Like she couldn’t breathe.

Megan’s thigh brushed hers. Megan’s elbow kept grazing her arm. Megan’s shoulder leaned juuust enough to make Yoonchae want to combust.

Half an hour in, when the main couple on-screen shared their first kiss, Megan leaned toward her casually, voice low.

"Hey."

Yoonchae flinched like she’d been electrocuted. “W-what.”

Megan giggled. “You cold?”

“I—no.”

“You sure? You’re kind of shivering.”

“I’m fine,” Yoonchae mumbled.

“Too bad,” Megan whispered, “because I brought you this.”

And before Yoonchae could move, Megan reached behind her, grabbed a soft, pink blanket. And in front of everyone, she gently draped it around Yoonchae’s shoulders.

Her fingers brushed Yoonchae’s neck.

Yoonchae made the tiniest, most mortified squeak.

No one else noticed. Or at least, they pretended not to.

But Megan wasn’t done. She pulled the blanket over herself too and leaned in closer.

Now they were shoulder-to-shoulder. Under the same blanket.

It was warm.

Too warm.

And Yoonchae was going to explode.

“You’re insane,” she whispered, eyes wide, heart slamming against her ribs.

“You’re cute when you panic,” Megan whispered back, playful.

“Stop talking,” Yoonchae hissed, cheeks on fire.

Megan smiled.

She tilted her head, pretending to watch the screen, then let her hand fall to rest lightly on Yoonchae’s knee.

It made Yoonchae freeze. Her entire soul just left her body. Her breathing hitched. Her hand twitched like it wanted to grab Megan’s and shove it off, but she didn’t.

She didn’t move.

Not even when Megan’s thumb started drawing soft little circles on her leg.

Yoonchae stared ahead like she was seeing ghosts.

Then Megan leaned over again, lips barely by her ear.

“I know,” she murmured. “I know now.”

Yoonchae blinked, trembling. “K-Know what?”

Megan turned her head just enough that their foreheads almost touched.

“That you like me.”

Yoonchae’s eyes blew wide. “I— What ? No. I–”

Megan smiled softly, so unlike her usual grin. “It’s okay,” she said, quieter now. “I just wanted to see.”

Yoonchae stared at her, completely still, mouth parted, face completely red.

And then she stood.

Like she couldn’t take it anymore.

She bolted off the couch, muttering something. Maybe an excuse and hurried to their shared room down the hall.

The door shut behind her.

Hard.

Megan stared after her.

Her heart was pounding too.

It hadn’t just been a test this time.

And for the first time since she started this little test, Megan felt the burn of something she hadn’t expected.

Her own heartbeat.

Not because she was proud of catching her.

But because of how Yoonchae had looked at her.

Because of the way it made her feel.

Warm.

Wanted.

And suddenly scared.

Ten minutes later, Megan found herself standing outside Yoonchae’s room, blanket still wrapped around her shoulders.

She knocked, but no answer from Yoonchae.

“…It’s me,” she said.

Silence.

Megan tried the doorknob and it's unlocked, so she pushed it open.

Yoonchae was sitting on her bed, arms wrapped around her knees, hair messy, eyes wide like a deer caught in headlights.

Megan stepped inside slowly and closed the door.

“…I went too far,” Megan said quietly.

Yoonchae didn’t move.

“I didn’t mean to embarrass you,” Megan added, stepping closer. “I just— I thought I was being funny. I didn’t think…”

“You weren’t funny,” Yoonchae said.

Megan stopped.

Yoonchae looked up.

“…You were cruel,” she whispered.

Megan’s heart cracked.

Yoonchae’s voice was tiny, uneven. “I already knew I couldn’t have you. You didn’t have to make fun of it.”

“I wasn’t making fun–” Megan said quickly, stepping closer. “Yoonchae—No, I wasn’t making fun. I…”

She trailed off.

Yoonchae looked up at her, bottom lip trembling.

Megan stepped right up to the bed. Sat down on the floor in front of her, and blanket still wrapped around her.

And for the first time, Megan didn’t smile.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered. “I didn’t think I’d… I didn’t think this would make me feel weird.”

Yoonchae blinked. “You?”

Megan nodded. “I thought I was just teasing you. I thought it was funny seeing you panicking and stuff. But then… you ran away. And I…”

She swallowed.

“I didn’t like how that felt.”

Yoonchae was staring at her.

“I miss you when you avoid me for four days,” Megan confessed, quiet now. “And lately… I keep catching myself wondering what you’re thinking. I keep looking for your reaction when I enter the room. I keep remembering how your voice sounds when you’re flustered and–” She laughed softly. “And I can’t stop thinking about how soft your hair looked when I touched it.”

Yoonchae was stunned.

Frozen.

Megan met her eyes.

“And I don’t know what this is,” she admitted, voice trembling. “But I think I want to find out.”

Yoonchae blinked, overwhelmed. Her throat felt tight, her heartbeat thunderous in her ears. She opened her mouth to say something, anything, but nothing came out at first. Then softly, like a secret she hadn’t meant to let slip, she whispered, “I never said I didn’t like you.”

Megan froze.

For a second, she just stared up at her, eyes wide, lips slightly parted. Then she spoke—quiet, careful, like the words might break if she said them too fast.

“…You like me?” she asked quietly.

Yoonchae looked away. Her fingers twisted into the hem of her sleeves, pulling at invisible threads. Her face was flushed again, that familiar, helpless pink that bloomed every time Megan got too close without even meaning to.

“I didn’t want to,” Yoonchae mumbled, barely louder than a breath. “But you kept… being you. All the teasing. All the showing up. All the stupid jokes. You kept being warm even when I was cold. You didn’t care when I pushed you away. And it made me…”

Her voice cracked. She couldn’t look at her.

“…It made me feel something I didn’t know what to do with.”

She trailed off, the air between them thick with silence—golden, trembling, soft around the edges. 

And then Megan smiled.

Not the smirk she wore when she was being silly. Not the dramatic grin she pulled when she was trying to win. But something small. Something honest. A soft, real smile that reached all the way to her eyes.

“Then,” she whispered, “maybe we both got caught,” as Megan let out a light chuckle.

Yoonchae’s eyes lifted.

Something shifted in her expression. Something fragile and astonished, like she hadn’t expected Megan to say that, like she hadn’t expected her to mean it.

And Megan… Megan didn’t rush it.

She leaned forward slowly, her movements feather-light, like she was afraid too much weight might shatter whatever moment they were in. She folded herself down, gently pressing her forehead to Yoonchae’s knee. Her hair slipped over her face, hiding half her expression, but the tremble in her voice made it through.

“I’m not teasing anymore,” she murmured, the words muffled but clear. “Not now. Not with this. Just tell me if you want me to stop.”

Yoonchae stared at the girl who never shut up but was now suddenly still. The girl who always pushed was now waiting in her lap—quiet, small, and vulnerable.

And it did something to her chest, something dizzying and warm, something terrifying in the best possible way. She reached out, hesitant at first, fingers trembling, and touched Megan’s hair.

A soft touch.

Not to push her away.

But to hold her there.

“…Don’t stop,” she whispered.

And Megan smiled again, eyes closed this time, as if Yoonchae’s words had wrapped around her and pulled her into something safe.

Neither of them moved for a while. The night stretched gently around them, soft and golden and quiet, like the world had finally exhaled.

And in that stillness, hearts pressed close, breath steady, fingers tangled in hair and blanket.

And Megan exhaled—a slow, quiet breath, like she’d been holding it in forever. Her forehead stayed pressed gently to Yoonchae’s knee, a soft smile forming even though her face wasn’t visible. It wasn't loud or showy, but it carried the weight of something real. Like relief. Like peace. Like she was exactly where she was meant to be.

Test five?

Passed.

And now?

No more tests.

Only whatever this was becoming.

—

The rehearsal hadn’t started yet, but the mirrored room was already sunlit and echoing faintly with the buzz of music from someone’s phone plugged into the corner speaker. The other members were still changing or grabbing water or probably getting distracted in the lounge.

Only Megan and Yoonchae were in the room. Alone.

Yoonchae was sitting on the floor, stretching. Hair tied up in a loose bun. Hoodie sleeves pushed to her elbows. Her socked foot flexed as she leaned forward. From the mirrors, she saw Megan walking toward her from behind. She looked once. Then again. Then quickly turned her head and tried to act like her calf muscle was extremely fascinating.

Megan dropped beside her with a dramatic sigh, sprawling on the wooden floor with her arms out like she was collapsing from war.

“Yoonchae-yah,” Megan said sweetly, nudging her arm.

Yoonchae didn’t look. “Don’t talk to me this early.”

“It’s nine in the morning.”

“Exactly.”

Megan grinned. She rolled onto her side, cheek in palm, watching Yoonchae’s face with a too-lazy smile.

“What?” Yoonchae said without looking, already defensive.

“You’re acting all cold today. Like a grandpa who forgot his coffee.”

“Because you’re being loud.”

“I’ve been awake for a whole twenty minutes. This is me tamed.”

“God, help me.”

Megan scooted closer. “What if I help you instead?”

That finally made Yoonchae turn. “With what.”

Megan tilted her head. “Stretching.”

“You’re not flexible.”

“I am where it counts.”

“That’s the worst comeback I’ve ever heard.”

Megan clutched her heart like she’d been wounded. “Wow, you’re cruel this morning.”

“I’m always cruel.”

“Yeah, but like…” Megan inched a little closer, enough to brush their knees together. “...in a way that’s kinda cute.”

Yoonchae froze. Just a blink. Then she glared at Megan. “Stop that.”

“Stop what?”

“That tone.”

“I don’t have a tone.”

“You absolutely do. You’re doing the tone. The soft-and-teasing thing.”

“Do you hate it?”

Yoonchae didn’t answer. Her eyes narrowed.

Megan watched her closely. It was definitely a test. She was sure of it. Last night had put too many puzzle pieces into her brain and she couldn’t stop staring at Yoonchae now, couldn’t stop wondering.

And so… another test. Just a soft teasing one, not like the last time that sent Yoonchae spiraling.

Megan leaned in and gently poked Yoonchae’s cheek.

Yoonchae swatted her hand like it burned. “What are you doing–”

“Just checking something.”

“You’re weird.”

“But you’re blushing.”

“I’m not!”

“You areee~”

“I have sensitive skin!”

Megan giggled, pure and soft. “So if I touch you again, you’ll turn red again?”

“I swear to God–”

Megan reached out and touched her wrist this time. Just her fingers. Barely there. And yet–

Yoonchae actually yanked her arm back and stood up so fast her hoodie sleeve fell over her hand like a shield.

“I’m going to go get water.”

“Why are you running away?” Megan asked, blinking up with mock innocence.

“I’m not! I’m just—hydration is important, okay?”

“Mm-hmm.”

Yoonchae stomped off, hair bouncing, and ears bright red.

Megan grinned wider, now sprawled on the floor again, watching her leave like a cat watching a bird fly into a glass window.

Ten minutes before choreo practice, the girls were all stretching now in a loose circle. Sophia was leading. Daniela kept humming their new track. Manon was cracking her knuckles like a villain. Lara kept adjusting her shirt.

Megan stole a glance at Yoonchae across the circle.

Yoonchae wasn’t looking at her. Not even a peek.

But her jaw was a little tight. Her fingers kept fidgeting on the hem of her shirt. And when Sophia suddenly clapped her hands and told everyone to stand, Yoonchae flinched like she’d been startled out of a trance.

Megan watched.

And for the first time, she really watched.

It wasn’t just a theory anymore. It was a thing. A thing she didn’t want to name yet. A thing that made her chest feel like it had just been filled with confetti and pink soda.

She smiled to herself. Just a little.

Then stood and went to stand beside Yoonchae again like it was nothing.

Yoonchae didn’t speak to her the entire hour. But Megan saw the way she always noticed where Megan’s shadow was. The way her elbow twitched when Megan stood too close. The way she reached for her water bottle three times and forgot to drink from it.

It was giddy and real. And Megan didn’t want to ruin it by rushing.

But she was sure now.

And something in her heart—some loud, blinding, sweet thing, was starting to ache in a way that felt very much like excitement.

—

The LA air had cooled just enough for the night to feel soft on their skin. From the balcony of their room, the faint noise of the city hummed in the distance. It was late. Everyone else had gone to bed after a long day. Dance rehearsal, vocal training, and a group dinner filled with laughter and side-eyes.

Only Megan and Yoonchae remained awake. The door to the balcony was cracked open, letting in the quiet breeze. Megan sat with her knees tucked up to her chest, nursing a glass of iced tea. Yoonchae stood by the railing, a loose jacket hung open over her shirt, arms folded tight.

“So… it’s just us now,” Megan said softly, her voice warm and teasing.

Yoonchae didn’t turn around right away. “You make it sound like a horror movie.”

“Hey,” Megan pouted. “I was going for romantic.”

That got Yoonchae to glance back, her mouth twitching. “That’s worse.”

“Wow,” Megan muttered dramatically, placing her hand over her heart. “I pour my heart out and this is what I get?”

“You didn’t pour anything. You just said we’re alone like a villain in a teen drama.”

“Okay, rude—but also accurate.”

Yoonchae laughed then, small and quiet. She finally turned, leaning her back against the railing, arms still crossed. Her cheeks were red but her eyes were soft.

Megan tilted her head, smiling. “You always stay up this late?”

“Only when I think someone might corner me for a dramatic late-night heart-to-heart.”

Megan put down her glass. “Oh, good. I love those.”

Yoonchae’s face went blank. “Wait, no–”

“I’ve been thinking,” Megan interrupted, scooting closer on the chair and patting the spot beside her. “You should sit here.”

Yoonchae raised a brow. “Why?”

“Because it’s cute. And warm. And you’re cold.”

“I’m fine,” she said quickly.

Megan gave her a look. “Yoonchae.”

Yoonchae sighed like it was a huge burden, shuffled forward, and sat stiffly beside her, arms still crossed like a burrito.

Megan grinned. “Better.”

“This feels like a trap.”

“It is.”

Yoonchae turned to look at her, clearly about to make some sassy remark, but Megan suddenly reached out and gently tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear.

Yoonchae froze.

Every part of her screamed ‘move, say something, slap her hand away’ —but she didn’t. She just blinked rapidly and her ears turned scarlet.

“You really don’t like when I touch you, huh,” Megan murmured, but she didn’t pull back.

Yoonchae cleared her throat. “I didn’t say that.”

“No?”

Yoonchae hesitated. She could feel her pulse banging in her throat. “I didn’t say I liked it either.”

Megan’s smile turned softer, gentler. “Okay. So… what if I told you I kinda like touching you?”

Yoonchae’s eyes widened. “Wh–”

“Not like that,” Megan laughed, quickly clarifying. “I just mean… I like being close to you.”

“You like being close to everyone.”

“True. But lately… I keep noticing you more.”

Yoonchae stared, her sass momentarily forgotten. Her voice came out quieter than she expected. “You’re not just saying that to mess with me?”

Megan gave her a long look. “I mess with people to be funny. I mess with you because… you’re you.”

Yoonchae bit her lip. “What does that mean?”

“It means I’ve never seen you blush this much. It’s super cute.”

“I’m not blushing.”

Megan leaned in, inch by inch, smiling as she watched Yoonchae try and fail to stay composed. “Your face is literally on fire.”

“Stop.”

“Make me.”

Yoonchae turned to her with the full intention of snapping. But the second their eyes locked, something cracked.

Megan was so close. Closer than usual. Not playfully leaning in like she always did, but hovering there… waiting.

It wasn’t teasing this time.

And Yoonchae—heart loud, brain screaming, but didn’t move away.

She swallowed. “This feels dangerous.”

“Then why aren’t you running?”

Yoonchae blinked. Her mouth opened, then closed. “I think… I’m tired of running.”

Megan didn’t say anything. She reached over and slowly, so slowly, took Yoonchae’s hand into her lap.

Yoonchae stared at their joined hands, breath caught in her chest. She didn’t pull away.

“I thought I was imagining it,” Megan whispered, “but I kept catching you looking at me when you thought I wasn’t paying attention. And every time I touched you, you’d act like I set you on fire. But you never really told me to stop.”

“I didn’t want to,” Yoonchae confessed, voice cracking just a little. “I was scared if I didn’t keep acting like I hated it… I’d give myself away.”

Megan squeezed her fingers gently. “You did. Just a little.”

“I figured,” Yoonchae muttered, embarrassed. “The others noticed too.”

“They’re all nosy.”

“They’re all observant.”

They both laughed quietly.

Megan rested her head on Yoonchae’s shoulder without warning. “So, now what?”

Yoonchae was silent for a second. Then she tilted her head to rest against Megan’s hair. “Now we… sit here. For a little while.”

Megan smiled. “And tomorrow?”

“Tomorrow I’ll still pretend I don’t like when you hug me. But maybe I’ll only push you away once instead of five times.”

“That’s such progress. I’m proud of us.”

Yoonchae chuckled softly, the sound vibrating against Megan’s hair. “I think I like you, Megan.”

Megan blinked. “Yeah?”

“Yeah. A lot.”

“…Cool,” Megan whispered, squeezing her hand again. “’Cause I like you too.”

They stayed like that, tangled and warm under the sleepy Los Angeles sky, just two girls quietly leaning into something new. For once, Megan didn’t need to say anything silly, and Yoonchae didn’t need to act tough.

It was enough.

And they didn’t move for a long, long time.

—

The sun in Los Angeles is soft today.

It is golden but not heavy, stretching like syrup over the quiet apartment as if it knew the girls needed the warmth. The curtains in the shared kitchen fluttered with the breeze. Dishes clinked gently in the sink. A low hum of music played from someone’s speaker in the hallway that's probably Manon again, because Daniela’s laugh followed not long after.

On the couch, Megan is sitting with a strawberry between her fingers.

She wasn't eating it.

She was holding it up in the air, turning it like it was a gem or a marble or something interesting, but her eyes weren’t on the fruit at all. They were focused on the girl next to her. Specifically, the one trying not to let her blush show while pretending to read.

“You’re not actually reading, you know.”

Yoonchae didn’t even look up from her book. “Yes, I am.”

“No, you’re not.”

“I’m on chapter seven.”

“What happened in chapter six, then?”

“…Words.”

Megan giggled and leaned closer, poking Yoonchae’s cheek with the tip of the strawberry. “Come on, just admit you can’t focus when I’m this close.”

Yoonchae finally dropped the book to her lap and fake-glared. Her eyes had that telltale sparkle. “You’re literally breathing on me.”

“I can breathe somewhere else,” Megan teased, shifting even closer until their knees touched. “But you’d miss me.”

“I would not.”

Megan blinked, exaggerated, pouty. “You wouldn’t miss me?”

Yoonchae looked at her for two seconds too long. “Fine. Maybe a little.”

“Aha!” Megan gasped, dramatically throwing herself back into the cushions like she’d won a war. “Ladies and gentlemen, she admits it! Someone record this moment for future generations!”

Yoonchae rolled her eyes, but her cheeks were bright and her smile was growing—shy, lopsided, real.

“You just admitted that I distract you while you're reading,” Megan teased again.

“I’ve been distracted since day one,” Yoonchae muttered.

Megan froze.

Yoonchae didn’t meet her eyes, but the tip of her ear went red. Very red.

“Oh my God,” Megan whispered. “Wait. Say that again. That was so romantic–”

“No.”

“Please?”

“No.”

“I’ll die.”

“Maybe I’ll let you.”

Megan clutched her chest and fell back against the cushions. “She’s cold. She’s merciless. She’s so pretty when she threatens me–”

“You’re so dramatic.”

“You love it.”

Yoonchae let out a very small laugh and finally set her book aside. “What are you even doing with that strawberry?”

“It’s a love offering.”

Yoonchae eyed her. “Suspicious.”

“It’s for you.”

“I’m still not eating that strawberry you’ve been spinning like a fidget toy for five minutes.”

“Oh no,” Megan said sweetly. “It’s not for me.” She turned the strawberry, offering it slowly. “It’s for you.”

Yoonchae narrowed her eyes, not moving. “Is this a trap?”

“Is it working?”

Silence. A blink. A shift in the air.

Still skeptical, Yoonchae leaned forward slowly, barely, eyes sharp but soft, and bit the strawberry directly from Megan’s fingers, not breaking eye contact once.

Megan stopped breathing. Her heart actually stopped for a second.

“Um,” Megan whispered. “That was. Wow.”

Yoonchae wiped the corner of her mouth with the back of her hand, smug. “What? You fed me a strawberry. I accepted. You’re welcome.”

Megan just stared a little longer, cheeks blooming red.

“Stop looking at me like that,” Yoonchae said, grabbing her book again, her voice suspiciously too casual.

“I didn’t know feeding you a strawberry would be my villain origin story,” Megan murmured.

Yoonchae tried to hide her grin, and failed.

A few moments passed. Comfortable now. Megan was laying back with her legs tossed over the arm of the couch, Yoonchae sitting cross-legged beside her, the book actually being read this time. They weren’t talking, but their arms touched. Just lightly. Skin to skin. Barely-there pinkies grazing.

“You’re so easy to fluster.” Yoonchae whispered.

“You’re evil.”

“You like it.”

Megan pouted, leaning forward so their knees touched. “You’re being bold today.”

Yoonchae tilted her head, eyes narrowing just slightly. “You started it.”

“I’m just cute and clingy.”

“And I’m letting you be.”

That made Megan’s face light up like a sunrise. “So, you’re finally admitting it.”

Yoonchae pretended to think. “Admitting… what, exactly?”

“That you like me this much,” Megan said, throwing her arms wide, and promptly knocking over the container of strawberries.

“Smooth.”

“I’m full of surprises.”

“You’re full of noise,” Yoonchae corrected, but she was laughing now, actually laughing, in that quiet, breathy way that made Megan's entire chest ache in the best way.

A moment later, Megan leaned her head gently onto Yoonchae’s shoulder. She didn’t ask for permission; it didn’t need to anymore.

And Yoonchae… let her.

Even tilted her head just slightly until her cheek pressed against Megan’s hair.

Their hands found each other again, like always. Instinct now. Linked pinkies first, then slow, complete fingers. Warm. Familiar. Safe.

“Is this what we do now?” Megan asked quietly.

“What?”

“Just... sit on the couch like a couple? Share fruit? Read books you’re not actually reading?”

Yoonchae smiled. “Complain about how clingy you are. Steal your blankets. Lie on your lap when I’m tired.”

Megan’s heart jumped. “Oh. So you’ve thought about this?”

“Since before you noticed.”

“Yoonchae!” Megan squeaked.

“Shh,” Yoonchae said, turning a page lazily. “Let me read my book.”

“You weren’t even reading–”

“I am now.”

Megan huffed, but her grin was unstoppable. She tightened her fingers around Yoonchae’s just slightly. Then looked up at her with a sparkle in her eyes.

“You’re in trouble, you know.”

“For what?”

“For being this cute.”

“Guess you’ll have to deal with me,” Yoonchae murmured.

And Megan, very softly, very stupidly in love, whispered, “Forever’s fine.”

Yoonchae laughed then, really laughed, the kind that made her eyes disappear into half moons and her shoulders shake. Megan watched like she was watching something sacred.

Neither of them said anything after that.

But neither of them moved either.

And when Sophia walked in an hour later and saw them half-asleep on the couch, tangled together with a book on Yoonchae’s chest and strawberry juice on Megan’s shirt, she didn’t say a word.

She just smiled, shook her head, and gently pulled the blanket over them.

Because finally, it was just them.

Soft and silly and real.

Always.

 — 

It's just a lazy Sunday, and they weren’t doing anything fancy.

A rare break in their schedule, and Megan had dragged a blanket out onto the rooftop of the Katseye house, a little picnic basket filled with snacks she got from a nearby market. The sun was still soft above them, and the sky looked like cotton candy. There were no rehearsals, no producers, no cameras, no tight formations or late-night takes.

Just air, and light, and them.

Yoonchae sat stiffly beside her at first, arms crossed as Megan dramatically laid flat on the blanket, sunglasses half sliding off her face. 

“You know,” Megan said, one arm flopped over her eyes. “I don’t think I’ve ever been this relaxed. It’s like…I’m a cat. Just laying in the sun. Maybe I was a cat in my past life.”

“You’re definitely annoying enough,” Yoonchae replied, biting into a strawberry and not looking at her.

“You wound me,” Megan murmured. “On my rest day, no less.”

Yoonchae rolled her eyes but her cheeks were already warming, just from the way Megan’s voice always softened around her. It was always there, like a secret note in a song, the sweetness no one else seemed to catch.

“I didn’t say I hated it,” she mumbled.

“What was that?” Megan peeked up with one eye, grinning.

“Nothing,” Yoonchae muttered quickly, pulling her knees to her chest.

They sat in companionable silence for a moment. The breeze blew gently, rustling Megan’s hair. Yoonchae tried not to stare. But she failed and stared anyway.

Megan looked so pretty when she wasn’t even trying. Sunglasses pushed up now, lips red from strawberries, hair loose. She kept pouting every time a crumb landed on her skirt, then wiping it off with her entire palm like a five-year-old.

It was ridiculous.

It was adorable.

Yoonchae thought her heart might actually stop when Megan turned and leaned in suddenly, close enough their knees brushed.

“Hey,” Megan said, smiling. “You’re staring again.”

“I wasn’t–!”

“You totally were.”

“I wasn’t!” Yoonchae squeaked, looking away too fast, too hard. Her ears were flaming. “You’re imagining things. Your ego’s going to explode if I don’t stop you.”

But Megan didn’t pull away. She just leaned her cheek against her palm, smiling in a way that was far too knowing.

“You’ve been different lately,” Megan said.

Yoonchae’s heart stopped. “What do you mean?”

“I mean,” Megan said slowly, as if carefully picking her words, “you don’t shove me away anymore when I hug you. You get all pouty when I share snacks with Manon instead of you. And you don’t glare at me when I call you baby.”

Yoonchae went still.

“...you noticed all that?” she asked in a small voice.

Megan tilted her head. “Of course I noticed. It’s you. I always notice you.”

Something in Yoonchae’s chest burst like a firecracker.

“D-Don’t say stuff like that!” she stammered, voice cracking. “It’s embarrassing–”

Megan laughed and reached for her hand. “Then stop being so cute and I won’t have to say it.”

But she didn’t let go.

Their fingers stayed laced, warm and careful.

It was quiet again, but not uncomfortable.

Then Megan gently tugged Yoonchae forward, until their faces were inches apart.

And now Megan is blushing. Really blushing.

It bloomed on her cheeks like roses, her voice going soft. “Can I… try something?”

Yoonchae swallowed hard. “W-What?”

“Something I’ve wanted to do for a while.”

And before Yoonchae could ask, Megan leaned in. Slow enough to stop if needed, close enough to feel her breath. 

Then she kissed her.

It was the softest thing in the world.

Just a brush of lips. A second. Barely even pressure.

But it felt like the sky opened.

When they parted, Megan was red as a tomato. “Sorry! I just– I mean, you don’t have to–”

She didn’t get to finish.

Because Yoonchae—cheeks flushed a deep pink, eyes flicking down to Megan’s lips. She hesitated for just a second, exhaled slowly, then her fingers curled into the fabric of Megan’s loose top like she was anchoring herself.

And she leaned in again.

This time with intention. A soft kiss, a little shy but surer, and a little longer—just enough to make Megan’s eyes go wide and her smile bloom against it. Yoonchae’s hand trembled slightly as it cupped Megan’s jaw, and it was all so awkward and clumsy and perfect that Megan nearly laughed through her heartbeats.

When they finally broke apart, Yoonchae’s face was a mess of color, red streaking all the way to her ears. She quickly hid it by dropping her forehead against Megan’s shoulder, burying her face there. Her arms still looped around Megan's waist as if she could pretend it hadn’t just happened. Her voice muffled and adorable.

“You’re not the only one who gets to be clingy anymore,” she mumbled into Megan’s collarbone, trying to sound nonchalant, but Megan could hear the crack in her tone. 

Megan blinked, stunned for a second.  Then her heart exploded. She let out a delighted squeak that made Yoonchae groan and bury herself deeper into her neck.

“Yoonie… oh my gosh, you’re so cute I could literally combust,” her voice came out a little too loud, a little too excited.

“Don’t make a big deal out of it,” Yoonchae grumbled.

“You just kissed me back!”

“I’m aware.”

“And said I’m not the only clingy one now!”

“Shut up, Megan.”

“But you’re blushing.”

Yoonchae peeked up, flustered, glaring. “Say one more word–”

“Or what?”

“I’ll kiss you again.”

That shut Megan up instantly. Her face turned the exact shade of strawberry milk.

Yoonchae smirked at the silence, nudged Megan’s side playfully. “Thought so.”

But Megan was still frozen.

Then she blinked fast and said, “You wouldn’t.”

Yoonchae tilted her head. “Wouldn’t I?”

And this time, without waiting, Yoonchae kissed her again. Still soft. Still quick. But confident now, like the tension had popped and everything sweet and ridiculous was finally allowed to spill out.

After the kiss, Megan was stunned. Squeaking.

“You… You actually–!”

“You said one more word,” Yoonchae said smugly.

“Oh my–”

Yoonchae laughed. The sound was quiet, rare. But it was there, slipping into Megan’s chest like music she never wanted to stop hearing.

“I hate how much I like you,” Megan whispered, dazed.

Yoonchae pulled her close, this time letting herself hold her without hiding. “Good. Now you know how I feel.”

And Megan melted. She hugged her tighter, chin resting atop Yoonchae’s head, heart drumming like it was trying to sing. 

All the jokes fell out of her head. All the words. All the teasing comebacks, ridiculous plans, and endless chatter are gone. It was replaced by a single loud flutter that seemed to lift her whole body up like she was weightless.

“I…” Megan tried. “I think my heart actually exploded.”

Yoonchae raised a brow. “That sounds fatal.”

“It is. I’m dying. I’m dying because you just said that and you’re holding me like that and you kissed me twice–”

“Three times,” Yoonchae corrected gently, smirking as she tucked Megan’s hair behind her ear with a softness that nearly made Megan collapse. “The first one counts.”

Megan’s jaw dropped. “You are keeping score.”

“I have to. You make everything a competition.”

“That’s so romantic, I might pass out.”

Yoonchae huffed a laugh and leaned her forehead against Megan’s, her voice quieter now. “You’re ridiculous.”

“I know,” Megan whispered back, breath catching, “and you still like me anyway.”

“Yeah,” she murmured, her breath brushing lightly across Megan’s skin. Her voice came so quietly Megan almost missed it. “And… you asked me before if you're kissable?”

Megan blinked, surprised.

Yoonchae’s cheeks were already pink, but she didn’t pull away this time. Her eyes flicked up, just once, meeting Megan’s for a split second before dropping again.

“Yes,” she whispered. “You always are.”

Megan stared, every word echoing like a drumbeat in her chest. She didn’t laugh or tease. For once, she just sat there completely still. A slow, stunned smile crept onto her face like the sun breaking through clouds.

“Say it again,” Megan breathed, voice cracking just slightly from how hard her heart was beating.

Yoonchae huffed, flustered, eyes closing for a second like she was trying to will herself into calm—but the corner of her lips betrayed her with a shy, crooked smile.

“You heard me,” she mumbled. “Don’t make me say it twice.”

Megan’s grin deepened, something breathless and giddy blooming in her chest. “Okay,” she whispered. “I won’t. I promise.”

She didn’t move, didn’t lean in further… not yet. Just stayed there with her forehead pressed against Yoonchae’s, their breaths slow and warm and shared. 

Yoonchae gave the tiniest smile, like she was still not used to saying it out loud. But it was in her eyes, in the gentle squeeze of her arms around Megan’s waist, in the way she lingered like she had nowhere better to be.

They stayed like that, arms wrapped, foreheads pressed, in the middle of the rooftop, dusk washing everything in a soft orange glow. The city below didn’t matter. The rest of the world didn’t matter.

Only this.

Only them.

Then Megan murmured, barely above a breath, “Do I get to call you mine now?”

Yoonchae paused… then nodded, cheeks blooming pink again. “Only if I get to call you mine, too.”

Megan let out a sound that could only be described as a full-body squeal.

“Okay,” she whispered, giddy. “But just so you know… I’m going to be so annoying about this.”

“I figured,” Yoonchae said, deadpan.

“You’re gonna regret it.”

“I really won’t.”

“Because I’m gonna hold your hand in public and send you seven good morning texts and say ‘baby’ every five minutes–”

Yoonchae chuckled and pulled her into her arms again, this time tighter. “You’re the worst.”

“And you love it.”

“…Yeah,” Yoonchae mumbled, lips brushing the edge of Megan’s cheek, voice so soft Megan almost missed it, “I really do.”

And that was it.

Megan didn’t need fireworks.  She didn’t need a crowd or a grand confession or even a perfect kiss.

She just needed this.

Yoonchae—arms wrapped around her like she belonged there. Smiling, even if it was a little shy. Holding her like she was something soft. Something real .

Like maybe, for once, they were both allowed to want this.

Allowed to keep it.

“Hey,” Megan whispered again, pulling back just enough to look at her. “For the record… I’m really glad I annoyed you into falling for me.”

Yoonchae grinned and for once, she didn’t try to hide it.

“You didn’t annoy me,” she said.

Megan blinked. “I didn’t?”

“You terrorized me.”

And Megan burst into laughter, grabbing her hand and swinging it between them. “Ugh, that’s basically the same thing as flirting in my language.”

“I know.” Yoonchae laughed softly into her neck. “This is so embarrassing.”

“No, it’s perfect,” Megan whispered, nuzzling into her. “You’re perfect.”

Yoonchae didn’t answer. She just stayed there, snuggled close, face burning, lips curved into a smile that wouldn’t go away.

And Megan thought as she kissed her again, just because she could know, that if this was what Sundays felt like with Yoonchae in her arms, she didn’t need anything else.

And as they walked back down the stairs, still holding hands, still flushed and laughing, the last glow of golden light clung to their shoulders like the universe was finally rooting for them.

Megan swung their hands lightly, their fingers still linked like it was the most natural thing in the world. But her voice turned quieter, a little sheepish, almost shy.

“You know I tested you, right?” she said.

Yoonchae blinked, curious. “Tested me?”

Megan gave a small smile. “Mm-hm. Like… after rehearsals, when I made you touch my sweaty back on purpose. Or when I asked if I'm kissable.”

Yoonchae’s eyes widened. “That was a test?!”

Megan laughed under her breath. “Mm-hm. And that night we walked home and I tucked your hair behind your ear? I wanted to see if you’d pull away, but you didn’t. And when I threw that blanket over us on the couch. I just wanted to see if you’d run away.”

Yoonchae stared at her, face flushed pink. “And I did run away because I was hurt that time,” she mumbled.

“I know,” Megan said, looking at her like she hung the stars. “I went too far with that. I’m sorry I made you feel that way, but I’m not sorry I gave you that test—because look where we are now. It was definitely worth it.”

Yoonchae’s face was absolutely crimson now. “You’re such a menace.”

“But clever,” Megan teased. “I just had to be sure, you know? That I wasn’t imagining things.”

They stopped at the bottom of the stairs, the warm light of the dorm spilling over their shoulders like the universe had saved a little glow just for them, holding hands like they’d done it a hundred times before.

Megan turned to her, smiling, eyes soft. “And just a moment ago, you kissed me.”

Yoonchae ducked her head, cheeks glowing, but she leaned in closer, bumping her forehead against Megan’s shoulder with a quiet laugh. “You’re unbelievable.”

Megan grinned and rested her cheek against the top of Yoonchae’s head, holding her like something precious.

“Unbelievable,” Megan echoed, “but correct.”

And for a little while, they just stood there, fingers laced like they’d always known how. The sky dipped into lavender, soft and quiet, like it was holding its breath just for them.

Megan let out a little sigh—not tired, just full. Full of everything.

“All tests complete,” she said, nudging Yoonchae’s shoulder gently. “Results are in.”

Yoonchae glanced at her sideways, lips twitching. “And the conclusion?”

Megan turned and smiled. She looked at her like the answer had been carved into her from the very beginning.

“You love me… and I love you just the same,” she said, soft and heart fluttering.

Yoonchae rolled her eyes, but her smile came easily this time. “You're the worst.”

“And yet,” Megan teased, tugging her hand, “you still passed.”

Yoonchae laughed under her breath, face impossibly pink. And her fingers curled tighter around Megan’s.

Because somehow, through all the chaos, the teasing, and the quiet, unspoken questions…

Megan had been right all along.

It needed a test to find the answer. And that answer had written them into forever—because love was the answer all along.