Work Text:
Strange look on her face
Pauses, then says:
“You're my best friend”
And you knew what it was
She is in love
;;
When Yongsun was first assigned to be the leader of their group; she took it with pride, unaware of how heavy it would feel once the cameras stopped rolling. Not to mention she had to take care of the two kids while also actively listening to the meetings because she’d be the one to disseminate it to her members.
Schedules blurred into one another—practice rooms, vans, waiting rooms that smelled faintly of hairspray and iced americanos. Yongsun learned how to smile through the fatigue, how to nod at managers and staff while her mind ran through the choreography counts and vocal cues, and how to make sure everyone had eaten already even when she hadn’t. Leadership, she realized, wasn’t about being the loudest in the room; it’s about being the last one to rest.
Before she knew it, Decalcomanie’s promotions already rolled in, exhaustion had settled into her bones like something permanent. The song demanded fire—strong vocals, burning gazes, a version of herself that felt larger than life. And Yongsun delivered it every time the cameras turned on. She always did. She had to.
It was only after, when the lights had dimmed and the staff moved on to the next schedule, but she didn’t get to breathe when her manager started talking her through the itinerary of the day.
“Yongsun, you have 40 minutes for this fanmeeting, make sure to pace the members,” their manager said, tablet already in hand. “After the fanmeeting, we’ll go straight to the radio show. We can’t afford any delays.”
The brunette nodded automatically, typing frantically through her notes app as she listened, absorbing every detail even as her head throbbed faintly. Times, locations, reminders—she filed them all away, already thinking about how she’d explain it later, how she’d try to make it sound lighter so the other won’t feel the pressure that’s gnawing her skin.
“Also make sure that the kids don’t go too crazy with playing later, they might have no energy before the show starts.” The manager in front of her reminded Yongsun.
She nodded again, even though the words barely registered. Everything pressed in at once—responsibilities stacking on top of each other, the weight of being the one who had to hold it together. She was supposed to be strong. If she wasn’t, then who would guide the group?
Fuck, her head hurts.
The room tilted. Sounds blurred into a dull screech, and suddenly she couldn’t draw a single breath in. Her fingers stilled over the screen, vision dimming at the edges, and she swayed forward just a tiny bit before the manager could even notice.
Yongsun’s knees buckled, almost fainting when she heard a distant voice and an arm looping around her waist. “Unnie.”
The voice was soft, grounding, almost lost beneath the chaos in the room.
Byulyi.
Yongsun barely had anytime to register her before a second hand came up to steady her shoulder, warm and sure. Byulyi leaned in, forehead nearly touching hers, shielding her from the rest of the world without making a scene.
“Breathe,” She murmured, low enough that only Yongsun could hear. “I’ve got you, don’t worry.”
And for the first time that day, Yongsun could feel at ease. Like a breath that she’s been holding on has finally been released. The brunette looked around, afraid that people would notice. The cameras had a way of finding her when she least expected it.
As if Byul could hear her thoughts, she guided Yongsun gently towards the waiting room’s couch, body angled just enough to block her from view. And fuck, does it always feel this good to sit down?
“It’s okay,” The silver-haired girl murmured, getting a water bottle from the passing staff before pressing it gently into her hands. “No one’s looking.”
Yongsun sank into the cushions, elbows resting on her knees as she focused on breathing, on the steady weight of Byulyi’s presence in front of her. Byulyi didn’t crowd her, didn’t ask any questions, didn’t ask for favors. She just stayed close, one hand resting lightly on her head, brushing her hair lightly to comfort her. It was more of an anchor to Yongsun than a touch.
“Do it again, slowly,” Byulyi said, directed softly. “In. Out.”
The brunette followed her lead, breaths evening out as the noise in her head softened into something manageable. The world didn’t disappear, it didn’t crumble beneath her feet leaving her to suffer, it stopped crushing her for a moment.
Only then did Yongsun realize how she instinctively leaned on Byulyi’s stomach—the younger girl brushing her hair softly, whispering sweet nothings as the staff barked orders around them—how natural it felt to let herself rest there. Like her body had already learned where it was safe.
The strokes had stopped, abrupt but careful, she looked up only to find Byulyi gingerly smiling at her, “You okay now?” Yongsun nodded, breathing another sign of relief. “Yeah,” she said quietly, surprised at how true it finally felt.
Byulyi hummed, squeezing Yongsun’s shoulder once before the leader finally realized it was finally time to go.
She hadn’t realized how her chest tightens when Byul said: “Let me help you carry your stuffs, unnie.” or how Yongsun persisted that she could carry her own bags and urged the younger woman to let her help only for Byulyi to make her other hand unoccupied, then reaching to hold Yongsun’s hand before saying: “Here, you can carry this.” With that shit-eating grin that Yongsun wanted to wipe off.
She doesn’t realize how naturally she smiled in return, how she hit her arm lightly as they giggled. Greasy. She didn’t let go of Byulyi’s hand; instead she let the younger woman lead her towards the caravan, fingers still loosely intertwined as they moved through the narrow hallway.
The silver-haired woman guided her to the furthest seat, not minding the teasing grins the two kids were giving them, fully focusing on Yongsun. The older woman barely registered the jostling of the van, the doors sliding shut, the engine rumbling to life. All she noticed was how Byulyi sat beside her without hesitation, knee pressed slightly against hers, pinkies brushing slightly.
It wasn’t enough to be obvious. Just enough to be felt.
Yongsun kept her hands folded in her lap this time, acutely aware of the warmth at her side, the way Byulyi didn’t pull away when the road dipped and their shoulders knocked together. She could feel her own heartbeat in the tips of her fingers, steadying with every mile they put between themselves and the venue.
Conversations filled the van—teasing, Wheein and Hyejin shouting as they played on their phones, then Wheein laughing loudly as the youngest lost, the manager telling them to keep it down—but it all faded into background noise. Yongsun answered when spoken to, smiled when expected, her attention drifting back, again and again, to the quiet constant beside her.
Byulyi leaned it slightly, her breath hitting Yongsun’s ear ever so slightly. “You can sleep,” she said. “We’ve got time.”
The brunette hesitated, then let her head tip towards Byulyi’s shoulder, careful on letting her full weight slump into the younger girl. Byul eventually had to guide her head to fully rest on her comfortably, Yongsun didn’t quite notice the small sigh she released.
As the city blurred past the window, Yongsun stared at the reflection of the two of them, the familiar feeling of warmth creeping on her stomach. A feeling she couldn’t name but brought comfort.
;;
The fansign ended on a good note; the fans ate up the fanservice they gave. Yongsun found herself leaning into it more than usual, emboldened by the cheers, by the way the room seemed to narrow until it was just her and Byulyi.
She flirted shamelessly, eyes lingering a second too long, smiled curved like secrets meant for only one person. When she glanced Byulyi’s way, it felt deliberate, like there was a magnet always pulling her close to the younger woman, even with a hundred eyes watching. As if Byulyi were the only woman she could see.
Byulyi, ever composed, played along just enough. Just enough to make Yongsun wonder if there was more towards it. A raised brow. A smirk tugging at the corner of her mouth. The kind of reactions fans would analyze frame by frame, searching for meaning where Yongsun kept insisting that there was none.
They’re just friends. Just friends.
Though, the adrenaline didn’t last.
By the time they were ushered backstage and the noise faded behind closed doors, the ache returned—settling into Yongsun’s shoulders, her temples, the base of her spine. She carefully handed the staff her mic, her smile slipping the moment she was out of sight.
Then, a towel appeared in front of her.
Yongsun looked up to find Byulyi standing there, eyes soft but unreadable. She didn’t say anything, just draped the towel over Yongsun’s shoulders and pressed another water bottle into her hand like it had always been hers.
The brunette took it, a small smile forming at her lips, she didn’t realize how Byul mirrored her as well.
The younger one lingered close, fingers light as she adjusted the edge of Yongsun’s clothes, dabbing at the neck where sweat had gathered. The room buzzed with movement around them, but Byulyi moved slowly, deliberately, as if time worked differently when it came to her.
“Sit,” she whispered, barely louder than a breath.
Yongsun sank into the chair without protest.
Byulyi crouched in front of her, close enough that Yongsun could see the faint crease between her brows—concentration, not worry. She took Yongsun’s wrist gently, thumb settling over her pulse. She looked attractive like this, maybe that’s why the fans are crazy over her.
They breathed together for a moment.
Byulyi reached into her bag, taking the painkillers she always kept in case of trouble, placing them in Yongsun’s palm without comment. Then she handed her a granola bar, already unwrapped.
Yongsun blinked, something warm tightening in her chest. She hadn't even realized she was hungry or that she hadn't eaten the whole day, the busy schedule didn’t allow them to but she always found herself reminding the staff and the kids to eat their meals.
“You remembered,” she said softly.
Byulyi shrugged, almost shy. “You forget.”
It wasn’t an accusation. It was an observation made and reported. Just a fact, just the truth.
When the silver-haired girl finally stepped back, the absence was immediate. Yongsun’s shoulders felt lighter, her head clearer—but she caught herself trying to chase the younger girl’s warmth back, the way Byulyi had filled the space without asking.
Their manager dropped them off to their own apartments before reminding them about their schedules for the next day. The older woman barely listened, she was just thankful that they wouldn’t have to wake up at the asscrack of dawn. Yongsun felt like a zombie, longing to faceplant into her bed and sleep in peace.
As she opened the door to her apartment, she beelined for the bathroom to wash her face, with Byulyi trailing after, tying her hair into a low ponytail.
“Byul, where will you sleep tonight?” Yongsun quietly asked, glancing sideways at the younger girl who was absorbed in her phone, unaware of how tense Yongsun felt.
She didn’t even know why. In the back of her mind, she already knew Byul’s answer.
Byulyi turned her head slowly, eyes meeting with hers with that calm, steady expression that always seemed to know what Yongsun needed before she did. “Yours, unnie.” she said simply, no hesitation, no explanation.
Yongsun hummed in response, a small, almost embarrassed sound, feeling warmth curl in her chest at the effortless care Byulyi offered without being asked.
The younger woman moved around her home with practiced ease, as if she lived in this apartment as well. In some ways, she did. Yongsun hadn’t realized how much space she made for Byulyi in her apartment alone, how she has her own slippers, the set of pajamas they both bought during their free time, and the skin care routine carefully crafted for her sensitive skin.
Byulyi collapsed first on the bed. Her side of the bed. Yongsun paused for a moment, watching her best friend settle in, noting the way she stretched just enough to make herself comfortable without invading Yongsun’s space. The older woman’s chest tightened once more—this quiet familiarity, the effortless way Byulyi fit here, was disarming.
Yongsun dried her face and eased onto her side, careful not to disturb the younger girl. She felt the mattress dip slightly under her weight, the subtle warmth beside her making her pause. Byulyi didn’t reach for her, didn’t invite her closer. And yet, Yongsun found herself shifting, inching just a little nearer until she felt Byulyi’s arm snake around her waist, spooning her.
The brunette froze for a heartbeat, startled by the gentle weight of Byulyi’s arm around her waist. Her own body hesitated, everything was so tense, afraid that if she moved Byul would retract her arm and she’d find herself chasing that same feeling again. Or if it’s even allowed, if she should pull back—but something in the comfort, in the steady press of Byulyi’s chest behind her, told her it was safe.
She let out a slow breath, settling into the curve of the younger girl’s body. Byulyi’s hold was firm enough to be grounding, light enough not to smother. The quiet rhythm of her breathing pressed against Yongsun’s back like a silent reassurance.
I’m here. I won’t let go.
Yongsun rested her cheek against the pillow, mind drifting, was all of this normal? Is Byulyi like this to all of her friends? The question lingered, unspoken, pressing gently against the edges of her thoughts.
The older decided to push her contemplations on the back of her mind, letting them fade beneath the pull of exhaustion. Tomorrow’s schedule would come soon enough but for now, she just wanted to rest.
;;
Yongsun and Wheein were left alone in the dance practice room.
The two rappers had stepped out a few minutes earlier, promising to come back with drinks and something to eat. Some music is still playing softly from the speaker, it sounded like Taylor, someone Wheein was obsessing over lately. But the room had never felt so quiet, without them—without her.
Yongsun sat on the floor, towel draped around her neck, eyes drifting toward the door more often than she meant to. She reached for her phone without thinking, her thumb instinctively opening the messaging app. Unluckily for her, Wheein noticed immediately.
“Unnie,” She called, the older woman immediately looked in her direction, “Were you about to text Byulyi unnie?” Wheein asked, tone light but knowing.
The brunette froze, thumb hovering over the screen. “...No, why?” she said a beat too late, already knowing how unconvincing she just sounded.
Wheein raised an eyebrow, lips twitching. “You hesitated.”
“I was just checking the time,” Yongsun tried reasoning, knowing full well that Wheein wouldn’t believe her, before locking her phone and setting it face-down on the floor beside her.
“Uh-huh, and you think I’d believe that, unnie?” The smaller girl scooted closer, nudging her knee lightly with her own. “You know they literally just went to get food, right? They’ll be back in, like, ten minutes max.”
Yongsun shrugged, gaze flicking to her phone then back to the door despite herself. “I know.”
There was a brief pause before Wheein spoke again, softer this time. “You’re not used to her not being beside you, huh?”
The words landed heavier than Yongsun expected.
“I mean, it’s not that bad?” She said, forcing a small laugh. “She’s just my best friend, you know? I enjoy her company and she enjoys mine.”
Yongsun looked down and started fiddling with the hem of her shirt, tugging and smoothing the fabric like it might give her the right words. Saying it out loud was supposed to make it sound normal. Reasonable even. Something she could easily explain away.
The younger woman beside her just watched her for a moment, expression unreadable.
“Mhm,” she hummed. “Do you miss all your best friends when they leave the room?”
Yongsun paused. Where was this conversation even going?
“I—” She stopped, trying to find the right words to say, her lips pressing together. “You know that’s not what I mean, Wheein-ah.”
Wheein smiled, soft but pointed. “I’m not judging, unnie. I’m just saying.” She tilted her head slightly. “You light up differently with her.”
The brunette chest tightened, something warm and unsettling blooming beneath her ribs. She opened her mouth to argue again, “aren’t you like that with Hyejin?”
“That’s because she’s my girlfriend, unnie.”
“Damn it.”
The word slipped out before Yongsun could even stop herself.
Just then the door down the hall creaked faintly.
Yongsun’s head snapped up on instinct, already cursing herself the second she realized what she’d done.
Wheein bursted out laughing, “See?”
Yongsun scowled, cheeks warm. “You’re a little shit, you know that?”
Wheein only grinned, unapologetic. “I know.” Then softer—but no less certain—”At least I’m not in denial with what I feel.”
As if on cue, the door to their practice room finally opened, revealing the two rappers—and the person who Yongsun was looking for.
Byulyi spotted her almost immediately.
Her gaze flicked past Wheein, past the scattered water bottles and discarded jackets, and landed on Yongsun like it was where it had always been meant to rest. She smiled without thinking, carrying the plastic bags as she kept walking towards her direction.
She didn’t announce herself. Didn’t call out.
Byul had simply drifted closer, dropping down beside Yongsun on the floor as if there was no other place she’d rather be, or as if there were many spaces for her to sit on but she chose to sit beside her.
“Here,” Byulyi murmured. The older woman felt her heartbeat quicken as Byul pressed her favorite drink into her hands, followed by a small box of tteokbokki, still warm. The familiarity of it hit harder than it should’ve. She hadn’t asked. Byulyi had just known.
“I thought you’d be hungry,” she added, voice gentle, eyes scanning her face like she was checking something only she could see.
Yongsun looked at the food in her hands, a warm feeling spreading across her body. “You didn’t have to.”
“But I want to.”
The words were simple. Unassuming. And somehow they settled deep in Yongsun’s chest, warm and heavy all at once.
With that said, Byulyi’s attention subtly shifted, glancing towards the two younger members who were fidgeting on the floor with their drinks and snacks. Her posture relaxed, but the ease in her movements didn’t disappear, it just extended outward.
“Wheein-ah, can you hold this for me?” she asked, handing her a small container. Wheein took it without question, smirking at the older girl’s quiet authority.
Byulyi then knelt beside the two members, opening their food boxes and distributing their portions with careful hand. “Here, take this. Make sure you drink some too,” she instructed gently, tucking a stray hair behind one of their ears as she handed over a water bottle.
Yongsun watched, heart swelling at the effortless way Byul cared—not just for her, but for everyone around her. She now understood why people were drawn to her, why the staff trusted her, why the kids listened without question. Byulyi had this way of making space for everyone, of showing up so gently that you didn’t realize you were leaning on her until you already were.
Maybe that’s why this feeling was so dangerous.
Because it wasn’t just Yongsun. It was everyone. And yet—selfishly—some part of her wished it was just her.
The thought barely had time to settle before she realized something else. Byulyi hasn’t eaten yet. “Byul-ah,” She called softly, the younger woman immediately looked in her direction like she was waiting for her name to be said, “Here.” Yongsun said, holding out a piece of tteokbokki from her chopsticks.
For a split second, Byulyi hesitated—then smiled, leaning in without making a fuss, accepting it straight from Yongsun’s chopsticks. “Thanks, unnie,” She murmured, eyes warm, lingering a beat too long.
Again, Unfortunately for Yongsun, the kids noticed.
Wheein nudged her girlfriend's arm, barely containing her grin, while Hyejin only raised an eyebrow, eye flickering between the two women with quiet amusement. Neither of them said anything, they didn’t have to, really.
Yongsun felt it immediately, heat creeping up her neck. She pulled her hand back a little too fast, clearing her throat as if she’d done something scandalous instead of something entirely out of the ordinary.
The silver-haired girl just smirked at Yongsun’s antics, clearly entertained.
“Why’d you pull away so fast?” Byulyi teased lightly. “I don’t bite.”
Yongsun shot her a look. “I hate you.”
“You don’t.”
Yeah, I don’t. But Yongsun won’t tell her that.
Instead, the older woman shifted her focus back to the food in front of her, pretending her heart wasn’t doing that weird somersaults that she’d been feeling for the past few weeks. She focused on chewing, on the faint burning of spice dancing on her tongue, on anything but the way Byulyi was still watching her with that knowing curve on her lips.
Byul leaned back on her hands, satisfied, like she won something Yongsun didn't know she was playing.
She stayed.
Close enough that their shoulders brushed when they laughed. Close enough that Yongsun could feel her warmth without looking.
And that, somehow, was so much worse.
Because hating someone didn’t feel like this.
;;
Yongsun stepped inside her apartment with a sigh, and this time Byulyi wasn’t with her.
The door clicked shut behind her, the sound echoing louder than it should have. The lights stayed off. Her bag slipped from her shoulder and landed by the door, forgotten. The apartment felt too big—too still—without the familiar presence following her, with the soft hum of Byulyi moving through the space like she belonged there.
In which, she did.
“Don’t sleep at my apartment tonight.”
They’d been waiting for the elevator, the hallway dim and quiet, the day finally catching up to them. Yongsun hadn’t looked at her when she said it, eyes fixed stubbornly on the glowing numbers above the doors.
Byul pouted, fixing the backpack strap that was falling off her shoulder. “But why?”
The brunette inhaled sharply. The air felt too thin, too tight in her chest. She doesn’t know how to explain that letting Byulyi stay—letting her be close—feels like standing on the edge of something she isn’t ready to fall into.
As long as Byulyi was near, Yongsun was afraid that she might say something risky.
The younger woman bent lightly to match their height, redirecting Yongsun’s face till she looked into her eyes, until their forehead touched.
“Are you okay?” Byulyi asked softly.
Yongsun nodded, a little too quickly. “Yeah.”
It was a lie. A small one. She needed to.
Byulyi didn’t pull away immediately. She stayed there, looking for something—anything—in Yongsun's eyes, her thumb brushing lightly against her jaw, like she was listening for something unsaid. For a split second, Yongsun thought she might see through her.
But the taller one only exhaled. “Okay,” she said, stepping back to give her space, like she meant I trust you.
The elevator dinged.
The sound was too loud, too final.
Yongsun stepped out first.
And she hated herself for that follow—and she hated Byulyi for the ache that followed.
She tossed the towel in the direction of the hamper and faceplanted on her bed, reaching for Byulyi’s side of the bed only to feel the cold pillow that still lingered on the younger one’s shampoo from the night before.
Yongsun groaned into the mattress.
After a moment, she rolled onto her side and reached for her phone, thumb hovering for half a second before she hit call.
It rang once.
Twice.
On the second ring, the call connected
“You better hope someone’s dead.” Yonghee’s groggy voice muttered.
The younger girl huffed, pressing the phone tighter to her ear. “Unnie, it’s me.”
There was a brief pause, then Yongsun heard the fabric rustle. “Do you know what time it is in London?"
“Early,” Yongsun muttered.
“It’s four in the morning,” Yonghee deadpanned. “I was dreaming. Vividly.”
“Sorry,” Yongsun said, though her tone suggested that she wasn’t very sorry at all for her older sister.
There was another pause, then a softer sigh. “What happened?”
“I think people are starting to think that me and Byulyi are a couple or something...” Yongsun whispered, as if she was confiding a secret with her sister. She fiddled with the teddy bear Byulyi had gifted her back then.
The reason? Just because.
This time, the pause was so long that Yongsun thought the call had dropped until she heard Yonghee’s overdramatic gasp. “Wait, are you not?”
“I—” The younger girl looked at her phone in disbelief, “What—No! Of course not!”
“Well, why not?”
“I knew I should’ve just called Wheein instead.” Yongsun facepalmed, exasperated, her hand now buried in her hair.
Her older sister giggled lightly, “Yeah, go bother someone else’s sleep.” She said teasingly, Yongsun exchanged a short goodnight with her before hanging up.
She immediately dialed Wheein’s number. This time, the younger girl answered on the third ring. “It’s Byulyi unnie, isn’t it?”
“What? How did you know?” Yongsun asked, pushing herself up on the bed, still playing with the teddy bear.
Wheein hummed on the other end, amused. “Because she called Hyejin earlier.”
Yongsun stilled. Her fingers tightened around the teddy bear in her laps. Thoughts came rushing all at once—what if Byul figured out her feelings towards her? What if she’s upset that Yongsun didn’t let her stay? What if this is the part where everything begins to fall down like dominos.
She tried pacing her breathing, calming down moment by moment. “She called?”
“Yeah. Asking if you were okay. Or if you’d eaten.” Wheein said lightly, like she was just forecasting the weather. “I honestly don’t even know how she thought we’d know if you already ate yet.” A small pause. “We kinda talked about you.”
Yongsun exhaled, the sound shaky but relieved, like she’d been holding her breath without even realizing it.
“Oh, Hyejin says hi, by the way.”
The words barely registered. They brushed past her ears and dissolved, her thoughts already looping back to the same name, the same presence, the same person. Byul. Byul. Byulie.
It was unsettling, how easily her mind returned to her—how every quiet moment seemed to fill itself with the image of silver hair, warm hands, the steady gravity that always seemed to pull her closer. Yongsun told herself that it was normal, expected even. They were close. They’d always been close. Anyone would feel strange when that constant suddenly disappeared.
But somehow, the reassurance didn’t sit right with her heart.
The more she tried to explain it away, the tighter her chest felt, like she was bracing for something unnamed. Byulyi hadn’t been around—she’d always been present in ways Yongsun hadn’t noticed until they were gone. Checking in. waiting. Choosing her, again and again, so quietly it never felt like a choice at all.
And that was the problem.
Because habits could be broken. Comfort could fade. But this… this felt sharper, more urgent, like she’d misplaced something vital without realizing when it slipped from her hands. The thought made her stomach twist.
Yongsun swallowed, heart beginning to race. She didn’t want this to be anything anymore. Didn’t want to name it, didn’t want to follow it to its end. If she did, she wasn’t sure she’d be able to pretend she didn’t already know where it led.
But Byulyi was like that to everyone, wasn’t she? Always attentive, always caring. That didn’t mean anything. It was just who she was—kind, reliable, good with people. Yongsun forced herself to repeat it like a mantra. Just a habit. Just kindness. Nothing more.
Still, the images kept coming unbidden; Byulyi choosing her in quiet ways that shouldn’t have felt so deliberate, leaning close without thinking, lingering moments that should have been ordinary, fleeting touch that always felt so warm and comforting. And each time, a small, impossible tug grew in her chest.
Her breathing quickened, thoughts twisting. It’s just familiarity. Comfort. That’s all. Don’t read into it. You’re imagining it.
But the more she thought, the more she saw. The stolen moments, the hidden glances, the lingering touches, it all screamed something she knew but refused to face. Every small gesture Byulyi made, every time she’d leaned a little closer, watched a little longer, cared a little more, how she perfectly fit in her family.
Oh.
Oh.
It was all there, undeniable now. Yongsun’s breath caught in her throat. Her chest tightened, and her hands trembled slightly around the phone. She couldn’t look away from the truth anymore, couldn’t keep weaving excuses or calling it a habit.
“Shit, Wheein. I love her.” The phrase rolled out ever so easily, tasting like sweet candy.
She froze for a moment, stunned by the sound of her own confession, the quiet weight of it settling around her like a gossamer she could no longer ignore.
A small laugh was released though the other line. “Took you long enough, unnie.”
Yongsun’s cheeks heated, and she pressed the phone a little closer to her ear. “...Shut up.”
“Nope,” Wheein replied, teasing but gentle. “What are you going to do about it now that you had this revelation?"
The brunette didn’t answer immediately. It’s true that she hadn’t planned this far, but all she knows is how deeply and sickeningly in love she is with her best friend.
“I have to go.” Yongsun said, voice tight but determined, before hanging up.
She didn’t pause. Not even bothering to grab her coat, as she shoved her phone into her pocket, and left the apartment in a hurry, heart hammering with equal parts fear and exhilaration. Every step carried the same thought: I have to see her. Now.
;;
Maybe Yongsun wasn’t thinking right when she ran up a few floors just to see Byulyi. But here she was, standing in front of her door, hand hovering over the wood, heart hammering in her chest.
She swallowed hard, debating whether to knock or turn away. What if she’s asleep? What if she’s mad? What if Byulyi wasn’t even here? What if—
Then the door suddenly opened, and Byul appeared, hair slightly mussed, eyes wide in surprise.
“Yongsun?” she asked softly, tilting her head. Her gaze flicked past the doorway, then locked on Yongsun like she had been expecting her all along.
The older woman’s hand froze in mid-air. Words failed her. Her chest heaved, breaths coming in sharp, uneven bursts.
Byulyi didn’t hesitate. She stepped closer, guiding Yongsun inside, and handed her a glass of water without a word.
Her apartment was so different from hers. It was slightly monochrome, the fans' gifts were laid carefully on every nook and cranny of her apartment. Not to mention, it smelled so good—so Byulyi.
“Here,” she whispered, eyes soft but steady, waiting until Yongsun took it. The warmth in her gaze was grounding, a quiet anchor after the chaos of racing up the stairs, after the flood of everything Yongsun had been feeling.
Yongsun’s hands shook slightly as she accepted the glass, lifting it to her lips. The water was cool, it made her feel something else, but it didn’t calm the whirlwind of thoughts in her head. She couldn’t stop staring at Byul—the way she moved, the way she simply was—and in that small act of care she’d received on Byulyi so many times, she finally felt the full weight of all the feelings she’d been trying to ignore.
She looked at the glass in front of her, finally letting out the words that tumbled out like a river breaking its dam.
“I… I don’t even know how to say this. I’ve kept it inside for so long, and I thought I could—no, I tried to pretend it was nothing, that it was just… just friendship, but it’s not, it’s never just—”
Her hands were shaking, fingers twisting together as she paced the small space, voice rising and falling with her panic. “I’ve been in love with you for so long, and I… I can’t stop thinking about you, about the way you’re always—always noticing things, always caring, and I just… I want to be the one you do that for, like you’ve done for me, and I want to—”
The words tumbled over themselves, breathless, disjointed, and entirely too fast. She felt dizzy, her chest tight, heart hammering, yet she couldn’t stop; the confession was clawing its way out, refusing to be contained.
Then Byulyi moved. Swiftly, decisively. She leaned forward and pressed her lips to Yongsun’s, cutting through the panic and the rambling like a calm current.
Yongsun froze mid-word, mind blanking for a fraction of a second, before instinctively melting into the warmth, letting herself be held, steadied, grounded. The chaos of her thoughts didn’t vanish—it clashed against the serenity of the kiss—but for the first time, it didn’t feel overwhelming.
Byulyi’s hand cupped her cheek, thumb brushing lightly, and then moved to the back of her neck, guiding Yongsun closer without pressure, without asking. The touch was steady, a quiet counterpoint to the hurricane of her words.
“I—Byul, I—” Yongsun started again, her voice shaking, panic still threading through every syllable.
But Byulyi only deepened the kiss slightly, tilting her head, pressing gently, and in that single motion, every frantic syllable, every word she’d stumbled over, was answered. No explanation needed, no rationalization. Just warmth, just presence, just undeniable understanding.
When they finally pulled back, just enough to rest their foreheads together, Byulyi’s voice was soft, steady, and absolute:
“I know.” Byulyi said, a bit breathless, softly caressing her face, “I feel it, Yong.”
The silver-haired girl pulled her in a hug, arms wrapping around Yongsun like she belonged there. Byulyi’s chin rested lightly against her shoulder, fingers tracing slow, reassuring patterns along her back as if she was afraid Yongsun might slip away if she didn’t hold her just right.
Yongsun’s breath hitched, her forehead pressing into Byulyi’s collarbone, the scent of her so familiar that she just wanted to stay there forever until it filled her lungs completely.
“Let me court you,” Byulyi whispered, voice low and earnest by her ear. “Please. Let me show you how much I love you, Yong.”
“You don’t have to, Byul-ah,” Yongsun murmured back, fingers curling into the fabric of Byulyi’s shirt. “You already know the answer.”
Byulyi huffed out a soft laugh, pulling back just enough to look at her, eyes warm and shining. “Yeah,” she said quietly, brushing her thumb along Yongsun’s jaw, “but you deserve the best.”
The words hit something tender in Yongsun’s chest. She swallowed, smiling small but genuine, forehead leaning into Byulyi’s. For once, she didn’t argue. For once, she let herself believe it.
Yongsun closed her eyes, letting the warmth of Byulyi’s arms and the gentle cadence of her voice settle around her. The chaos, the panic, the racing thoughts—they all melted into a quiet certainty.
Byulyi’s fingers intertwined with hers, thumb brushing over knuckles, a silent promise of everything yet to come.
“Fuck, You’re mine now,” Byulyi murmured, a soft grin tugging at her lips.
“And you’re mine,” Yongsun replied, voice barely more than a whisper, but steady this time, finally matching the rhythm of her heart.
They stayed like that for a long moment, wrapped up in each other, letting the world outside fade. No words were necessary. For the first time, everything felt exactly as it should.
The future was still uncertain, so scary. But this time, Yongsun could finally breathe knowing that she wasn’t alone. Loving Byulyi may be hard—their idol life demands so many things for them—but as long as they’re together, somehow, nothing feels as frightening anymore.
As they held each other in the quiet glow of the apartment, Yongsun realized she had finally found home—in Byulyi’s arms.