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Yeji has busied herself with scrolling through the comments on the live, eyes crinkling into crescents whenever she sees one she likes, content to let Ryujin talk to her heart’s satisfaction, when she hears the younger ask the fans, “What season do I remind you of?”
The chat is immediately flooded with the consensus of winter, and Yeji finds herself confused at the reaction.
Leaning over to look at the comments, Ryujin lets out a giggle, saying “Someone thinks I’m the winter because I’m always cool?”
Yeji quirks an eyebrow, quick to disagree with them, “You’ve always reminded me of the summer Ryujinnie.”
“You’re literally the only person who thinks that Yeddeong,” Ryujin says, still laughing.
☆
She’s tucked up in bed that night when she finds herself thinking about it yet again. It was something she ought to have let go of by now, just another question Ryujin threw at the fans on a whim, but she’s still stuck on just how wrong those comments were.
☆
Yeji races down the beach, tearing through the sand, fueled by the sheer euphoria that one is only privy to when they are eighteen and have just been told they are going to debut under a major entertainment label.
The day had been a terrifying one. They were gathered in that room under the harsh, white lights, and Ryujin had gripped her hand almost hard enough to bruise as they waited with bated breath to hear whether or not they had accomplished everything they’d worked away their childhoods for.
More than anything though, when it was finally spoken into existence, there was only overwhelming shock and the disbelief that they had actually done it. The five of them, young and green, doe eyed and naive, had against all odds, done it.
She jogs across the final stretch of the shore, entering the moonlit sea to join her girls, her bandmates, as they splash around, too happy to care about the colds they will probably catch from throwing themselves in the water during the onset of winter. She watches from the side as Yuna tucks herself under Jisu’s arm, eyes already brimming, and screams into the night about how famous Itzy would be, as Chaeryeong throws water at her, because “Yuna-yah we signed an NDA! You’re not supposed to be screeching about Itzy in the middle of the sea,” and as Jisu berates her loudly, “Ryeong you need to aim better, most of that hit me!”
She catches a murmur beside her, can practically hear the smile in her voice as Ryujin speaks, “Can you believe it? We’re debuting unnie. Together.”
She looks over and the smile is indeed threatening to split Ryujin’s face, and she wonders how she feels the sunshine in the middle of the night. She knows she couldn't find the words if she tried, the only thing that she seems capable of letting out is a sob if she allows herself, so she loops an arm around Ryujin’s waist, pulls her in, feels her bury herself into her side, as she’s done countless times before, as though it’s second nature.
The water sloshes around their waists as they wade out further, until the girls’ voices become faint and distant. Their teeth are chattering, bodies are pressed together for as much warmth as they can gather, and out of the blue, she hears a whisper, barely there, but loud enough to betray intention, “What happens now?”
She’s taken aback for a second because what could Ryujin possibly mean? All their effort is paying off in ways that Yeji sometimes couldn’t dare to dream it would.
“What happens now, Yeji unnie?”
Tears are welling in her eyes, threatening to spill over, the dam as close as ever to breaking, and Yeji suddenly knows. Knows that Ryujin is realising how much of themselves they’ve had to give up to get to this very moment, how much self discovery they’ve missed out on, how taxing it is to think about themselves beyond the four walls of the practice room, beyond the days they’ve bled through dancing and dancing and dancing, beyond all the late nights they’ve spent running themselves ragged until their legs ache and their lungs burn.
She finds it almost funny to be having these epiphanies in the middle of the ocean at midnight, as though they’re the main leads of one of those cheesy dramas Ryujin loves so much. For a brief moment, she's sidetracked by the implications of them being the leads in a romance drama, until soft sniffles beside her bring her back to reality.
She sounds far more put together than she feels when she says, “For now, we get out of this ocean and go get some ice cream to celebrate the fact that from tomorrow, we’re practicing for our debut. And from there, we figure it out. Together.”
And she hopes to whatever god exists that she can make good on that, hopes, as Ryujin looks up at her with a watery smile that is somehow still brighter than the sun, that no entity is cruel enough to take away her light.
☆
Since the day they debuted, Yeji has always marveled at just how well Ryujin has adapted the way she is expected to carry herself. Between the tiring days, short breaks, grueling schedules, Yeji considers it nothing short of an injustice that Ryujin has to hide the hard won pieces of herself she’s found, dedicate what little energy she has to putting up a front, but she knows that’s the reality of what they signed up for.
All the same, Yeji marvels at the way she laughs at the camera after each win, when all the while Chaeryeong, Lia, and Yuna are crying their eyes out, and she herself, restricted by her own want for composure rather than a company order, is doing her level best to keep it together.
The way she smiles and waves at the fans and the way she runs up to her as Yeji delivers yet another winning speech, the way she wraps her arms around her waist as though she can sense the tears that are close to dropping, as though she hears the choked up sob that Yeji will fight down if it kills her, as though she is saying in her own quiet way, that she sees her, in a way that nobody else does, in a way no one else will ever be allowed to.
She marvels even more at the way she has everyone convinced that nothing really shakes her when she’s curled up in Yeji’s arms in the privacy of their dorm room later that night, crying her eyes out because of sheer joy and astonishment at what they’ve managed to accomplish.
On the days, when Ryujin’s skin is soft against her own, and her face is pressed in the crook of Yeji’s neck, tears dripping down her shoulder, Yeji lets her own tears fall, feels Ryujin’s hand rub gentle circles into her back.
They both still have ways to go, but Yeji is glad that if nothing else, they are true with each other.
☆
Yeji doesn’t quite realise the extent to which Ryujin has burrowed into the nooks and crannies of her life until she withdraws herself from them. There is no weight on her shoulder as she attempts to drift off on the drive back to their dorm and she can’t really understand why she’s been banished to the front seat instead of where she usually sits with Ryujin. She glances back at Ryujin, who is nodding along tiredly at something Yuna is saying, and can’t help but be worried by the tight lipped smile that’s immediately plastered across her face at the sight of Yeji looking. More than anything, it hurts. Hurts that Ryujin won’t tell her what’s wrong and hurts that she is being iced out.
She turns away with a sigh, does her best to pretend nothing is wrong for the rest of the journey.
She is reminded that something is in fact, very wrong, far too soon for her liking. They are at dance practice the next day, just the five of them, and Yeji is, as usual, doing her level best to make sure they are perfect, the closing notes of their latest song echoing through the practice room for not the first time that day, and certainly not for the last, she thinks.
Yeji calls out corrections in rapid succession, as is her norm after a run of the dance, “Chaeryeongie, you’re a little early when you cut in front of Jisu during the dance break, Yuna-yah, you need to move more to the left in the first chorus formation, and Jinnie you need to move a little to the right, because it looks too tight right now. But other than that, good job guys, take five.”
She watches, laughing as Jisu and Chaeryeong plop on the floor unceremoniously and Yuna immediately gets out the packet of chips she’s stashed in her bag, but the smile is quick to drop off her face as she turns to Ryujin, who is running the dance yet again by herself. She frowns and turns away, taking quick steps towards where Jisu and Chaeryeong are seated, deciding to spare their youngest and her corn chips from involvement in the scene that will inevitably follow.
“Have you guys noticed anything off with Ryujin this week? She’s been avoiding me like the plague”
Jisu glances toward the girl, still dancing, apparently in her own world, “She’s been really quiet. Hasn’t tried to crack a joke since Tuesday. I was debating coming and talking to you about it actually.”
“She’s been spending a lot of time on her phone recently. I came into your room the other day when you were gone, and she winced and chucked it under the sheets like I was going to kill her for using it or something. I think you should talk to her unnie,” Chaeryeong whispers.
“Yeah, and I don’t think any of us would be opposed if you decided to end practice right now to talk to her. Y’know, for Ryujin’s sake,” Jisu adds, smiling deviously.
Yeji can’t help but crack a smile, because Jisu is fully aware that she would go to the ends of the earth for Ryujin’s sake, and pulls the card anyway.
“Alright, go, get out of here. But we will be picking up from here at 8am sharp tomorrow, and I’d better not see any of the same mistakes repeated,” she grumbles.
“Thank you captain,” Lia squeals. “Fix things with your girlfriend please, Yuna misses her parents,” she calls softly over her shoulder as she and Chaeryeong gather their things and go to inform Yuna of the good news.
Yeji briefly considers avoiding the conversation yet again, because honestly she’s already been hurt enough by this whole ordeal, the kind of hurt that only Ryujin could cause, and she’s scared, scared to death almost by what Ryujin will have to say.
But she tells herself to be brave, and walks toward her before she can change her mind. “Ryujin?” she ventures softly, ever so softly, but she receives no response.
She taps her on the shoulder, tries again, “Ryuddaeng?”
That seems to work. Ryujin startles out of her haze and turns to face her, eyes wide and Yeji is more than a little heartbroken to see her like this. Her voice comes out harsher than usual as she forces the words out, “Why have you been avoiding me?”
“I haven’t been avoiding you,” Ryujin insists, stubborn even in her denial.
“You haven’t talked to me all week, you’ve gone out of your way to avoid your usual seat in the car, you sit as far away from me as possible during meals, you’re on your phone all the time and the furrow in your brow never goes away. But worst of all you’ve been working yourself into the ground and you won’t tell anyone why,” Yeji says, counting off her fingers as she talks. “Care to explain?”
“There have been some… harsher than usual comments about me circulating online,” Ryujin sighs. “About how I’m too laidback, how I don’t care enough, or want it enough, how I’m too rude to you guys, that I’m dragging your images down with mine. There’s a lot about you too, how you’re too good for me, about how I don't do nearly enough to reciprocate your attention. And truthfully,” her voice cracks, “Truthfully I think they're right.”
Yeji has listened to this spiel, growing more and more incredulous at every word out of Ryujin's mouth, more and more angry at the audacity of these strangers to say such things about her Ryujin, and it comes rushing out when she starts to speak.
“None of that is true. You know none of that is true. And if you don’t, I will tell you every single day until you believe it. These people don’t know you Jinnie, but I do. You’re loyal to a fault, you stay in the practice room longer than any of us, sometimes I think you love Itzy more than you love yourself. Nothing that people say about the two of us will ever change the fact that I love you, more than anything, and that you deserve all that love and then some.”
Ryujin sniffles some more, burying her head into Yeji’s neck, wrapping her arms around her shoulders, and Yeji knows they’ll be alright.
“Where are the others?” Ryujin asks as they walk to the door, as if just realising the conspicuous absence of their bandmates.
“Jisu bullied me into letting them off practice early because—” she starts, but cuts herself off abruptly as the doorknob turns to reveal Jisu, Chaeryeong and Yuna scrambling desperately for anywhere to hide to avoid admitting to their eavesdropping.
“Just for the record,” Jisu deadpans, “It was not bullying. I was merely making a gentle suggestion because I want the best for our group’s favorite couple.”
“I don’t know about these two but I’m here because I needed to make sure my parents were okay. I have no intention of being a child of divorce,” Yuna exclaims.
“Our parents,” Chaeryeong squeals, “Stop hogging them Yuna.”
“Chaeryeong, you’re like two months younger than me,” Ryujin says, but there’s no real bite to it.
Her whisker dimples are out, her smile is wide, and that’s all Yeji really cares about anyway.
☆
Yeji has never associated Ryujin with anything but warmth. She glances at the girl curled up against her, and she thinks about those comments again. She decides that maybe she is just fine with having her sun all to herself.