Chapter Text
May 14, 2025.
The clouds pass by at a snail’s pace, partly hidden by the leaves of the tree just beside Han River, and Jiwoo lies on her back—silently watching, peering up at the skies beyond her reach.
Jiwoo extends an arm towards to the tuft of cloud slowly inching away from her, and wonders if it's going to be like this from now on. Desolate, with the rest of the world a muffled noise in her ears, but peaceful in the same way life continues without pause at its own dreadful pace.
Her ringtone blares through the quiet–a rooster’s squawk cutting down the moment she shares with her own musings. It would be amusing if Jiwoo had heard it any other time, but now, it feels like too much of everything crashing down on whatever semblance of harmony she’s managed to create.
Usually, Jinsol would be an exception to all that, but perhaps not this time. Not yet.
After a moment of hesitation, Jiwoo sighs and picks her phone up.
“Hi,” she says tiredly, eyes staring blankly into nothing at all as she presses the phone to her ear. “Kim Jiwoo speaking.”
“Jiwoo-yah,” Jinsol's voice echoes from the speakers. “Where are you? Yoona's been looking for you since this morning.”
Jiwoo looks at her watch. 4:28 PM. She hums. “Han River.”
She hears Jinsol breathe on the other line as she stays quiet, as if urging Jiwoo to talk more, but there really isn't anything more to say.
Jiwoo doesn’t have any words she’s wont to speak out loud, so she doesn’t.
In the end, it's Jinsol who breaks the silence. “Yoona told me what happened.”
The leaves rustle over Jiwoo, and she lets the wind fill her part in the conversation.
“Do you,” Jinsol asks slowly, “want company? Or do you want to be alone right now?”
Jiwoo feels a small huff of laughter slip past her lips. “Unnie,” she rasps out. “You don't have to walk on eggshells or anything. It's not your fault I failed my audition.” Jiwoo, in her daze, tries to catch a leaf, only to have it slip between her fingers. “Again.”
A different leaf lands right beside her cheek.
“It's not anyone's fault I'm never good enough.”
Jiwoo turns her gaze to the river, watching the water shift gently under the glare of the sun.
It's not anyone else's fault, she thinks, but maybe it's hers.
There's a pause on the other line, and it takes a few seconds before Jinsol speaks. “Jiwoo-yah, I'm going to hang out there with you. Wait for me, okay?”
Her voice settles in Jiwoo’s ears like a broken record of every conversation they’ve had before that ends with Jinsol patting her shoulder after a failed audition, her concern open despite never quite being spelled out in words.
As if Jinsol is right in front of her, Jiwoo shakes her head. “I'm okay, unnie,” she breathes out, closing her eyes. “I just need some time to get myself together, and I'll be fine and dandy, as usual.”
Jinsol makes a small, hesitant noise. “I'm worried about you, but I trust you. Don't be too harsh on yourself, all right? If things get too overwhelming, I, Haewon-unnie, and the others—we always have your back.”
Her words bring a small smile to Jiwoo's lips. “Mhm. I'll end the call now, unnie. Don't worry, I'll be back before 9PM.”
“Gotcha. Take care of yourself, Jiwoo-yah.”
The call ends with a modest beep, and Jiwoo lowers her hand with a slow intake of breath. It feels as if time passes along with it, like it’s nothing special in the vast expanse of everything else.
Maybe that’s the problem, anyway–that Kim Jiwoo is nothing special.
The judges’ remarks ring in her ears in a tone that makes them feel absolute, like colors that fill the every page Jiwoo’s written and poured her heart on.
“It’s not bad,” they’d said, “but this isn’t exactly what we’re looking for.”
Not bad, but it doesn’t fit. It never does.
A certain sense of frustration bubbles up in Jiwoo’s chest, painfully familiar in its cutting bitterness, and she allows it to consume her for a moment, before burying it in the depths of her heart–along with every other emotion that would get in the way of her goals.
Though, with this being the last time she’s promised herself to try, she doesn’t quite know why she still feels the need to tuck her emotions away for a later date. In hindsight, now should be the ‘later date’. Still, force of habit isn’t easy to do away with.
“It’s okay,” she whispers to herself as she sits up, fixing her hair. “Let’s just give it some time.”
Things will come around as they should, like they always do.
(She just can't guarantee that they'd do so in her favor.)
Time passes with Jiwoo not quite knowing how, as she skirts the edges of Han River. She only notices a brush of pain flaring in her calves, and looks up to see that the sky had already bled into the night’s shadow, with only the moon left to light the way back home. It’s a beautiful sight to behold, and Jiwoo finds herself taken with a speechless kind of stupor.
“Ah, Kim Jiwoo, is that you?”
The question hits her fast and harsh, a memory of a long-forgotten acquaintance at its helm.
“Jiwoo-yah, you don’t have to be so reserved around me. It’s just me, you know?”
Jiwoo spins around, and she meets familiar eyes shaped much like a cat’s – only now older, with more fine lines at the edges than she recalls.
“Jang Kyujin.”
For reasons Jiwoo doesn’t know, a sharp laugh erupts from her throat – maybe at the timing, maybe at the ridiculous pair they probably make.
Jang Kyujin, now a successful idol in her own right–and her, a nobody trailing after the heels of the same industry.
As if out of convenience, Kyujin ignores the noise, bounds over to Jiwoo, and effortlessly captures her attention with a silly grin she hasn’t seen in years.
Warmth bursts from where Kyujin’s fingers brush against her arm, and it occurs to Jiwoo that maybe she did miss her. She just hadn’t the time to notice.
“Kim Jiwoo from 2-C!” Kyujin squeals, her eyes sparkling with a touch of amusement, besides the excitement almost reeking from her person. “We haven’t seen each other in a long time! Which cave did you burrow yourself in this time?”
Jiwoo can’t remember the last time she’s held someone’s gaze, but Kyujin compels her to do it so, so easily.
“Ah,” she says, and the syllable extends from her tongue bit by bit. “I’ve been… around. Doing all sorts of stuff, I guess.” The spring breeze caresses her cheek a little, but blows Kyujin’s bangs over her eyes. “What about you? I saw you on the news last week. Congratulations, you know, about the concert. You worked hard.”
None of the words came out as naturally as Jiwoo hoped they would, and she inwardly recoils at the sheer awkwardness she manages to draw out like a superpower. Kyujin giggles, and for a second, Jiwoo can see her sitting on the bleachers of her old high school, with her voice riding the wind to land by Jiwoo’s ears.
It’s fascinating how some things just never change.
“You make it sound like a concert is just a little dinner party I threw on impulse that somehow worked out,” Kyujin says, and Jiwoo tries not to pay attention to the way she keeps her touch on her arm loose. If Jiwoo so wished, she could break away at any moment, but she doesn’t.
“That’s – That’s not what I was trying to,” Jiwoo struggles to speak, willing her nerves to stay in place. “It’s just… You’re doing so well now, and I don’t really have friends who’re… like you.”
Jiwoo doesn’t find herself talking to people who have reached heights like Kyujin has – not really. Jinsol, Haewon, and Lily are all trainees at the moment, and while they’re set to debut, they haven’t yet. Yoona, though she did decide to be a model and is doing quite well at her job, is currently enjoying life lounging around the apartment.
Kyujin, on the other hand, sells out concert venues like she’s giving away cookies for free.
“Hey, hey.” Jiwoo looks down to see Kyujin pat her arm lightly. “Don’t worry about it. It’s nice to be where I am and all, but at times like this, I’d rather we keep things like that behind us. At least for a while.” Kyujin smiles at her, mild and sweet. “Right now, we’re Jang Kyujin and Kim Jiwoo, both from class 2-C. Got it?”
Something about her words melts any hint of protest at the tip of Jiwoo’s tongue.
“Okay,” she says, lowering her head.
“Great! Now that we have that established, why don’t we walk together?”
Jiwoo doesn’t remember agreeing, but she finds her feet moving according to Kyujin’s whims. Step by step, they stroll by the fringe between land and water, with Kyujin’s laughter muffling any noise outside of the meager bubble they’ve created for themselves as she thoughtlessly splashes around, all while she’s clad in Doc Martens and the fanciest coat Jiwoo has ever seen on anyone.
Somehow, it feels quiet and festive all at once, and it’s reminiscent of the times when Kyujin would drag Jiwoo all over the school at lunch time, yammering in her ear about the recent gossip going around.
Her voice fills her head with nothing but Jang Kyujin, the most loved person in the tight-knit group that makes up the class of 2-C.
Jiwoo, as she lets Kyujin lead her by the hand, wonders if it’s this particular aspect of her that makes people fall for her in every way, ever since.
The trance is broken long after, and Jiwoo doesn’t quite know how far time has gone when she watches Kyujin stand up from her seat beside her, leaving Jiwoo blinking up at her from her comfortable perch on the stairs enclosing Han River.
“Well, I think I have to go.”
Kyujin looks down at Jiwoo, a subtle smile playing upon her lips. She reaches out a hand, and Jiwoo takes it without question.
“It’s nice seeing you after all these years, Jiwoo-yah,” she says, and her grin widens just so. “I thought we’d never meet again! You’re so good at hiding from people.”
Jiwoo purses her lips. “I wasn’t hiding.”
“You’re right.” Kyujin’s eyes sparkle underneath the moonlight, vaguely reflecting Jiwoo’s silhouette. “Maybe I just have trouble looking for things.”
What?
By the time her words sink well into Jiwoo’s head, Kyujin’s frame is already fading into the last vestiges of the horizon Jiwoo can still see in the darkness of the night. She takes in a breath, pulling out her phone from her pocket, and curses at the sight of the time displayed on the screen.
10:52 PM.
“Haewon-unnie is going to murder me,” Jiwoo whispers under her breath. She begins making her way home, sending an apology in the flooded group chat, hoping for leniency when she gets back.
An uncomfortable, wet sensation tickles her feet, and she realizes belatedly that she’d have to walk in drenched shoes for the first time in a long time.
—
“You said you’d be home before 9 PM,” is what greets Jiwoo’s face as she opens the door to her apartment.
Haewon and Jinsol stare at her a few steps from the doorway, with Haewon crossing her arms and Jinsol frowning at her, worry radiating from them in waves without them having to say a word about it.
Jiwoo scratches her head. “Sorry, I… got held up by something.”
Haewon raises an eyebrow.
Jiwoo keeps her mouth shut.
“Fine. I won’t ask what it is.” Haewon sighs, ruffling her own hair a little. “You’re an adult, I get it. Just don’t do this next time, yeah? Let us know if you’re going to be home later than planned. Especially after…” She lets the sentence trail off, and Jinsol nods her head in agreement.
Jiwoo makes a gesture of acknowledgement, reaching down to take off her shoes. “Mhm. Sorry again. Where’s Yoona-unnie? And Lily-unnie?”
“Lily’s here,” Jiwoo hears Lily call out from the kitchen. “Making a little snack!”
Beside Jiwoo, Haewon mouths, “Ramyeon.”
Jinsol snorts, walking back to the living room to plop on the couch. “Yoona’s passed out. She slept the moment she read your message about being on your way home. You know how she is.”
Amusement pulls at the edges of Jiwoo’s lips. “Sure.” She stands up straight, a flush rising to her cheeks when she sees Haewon’s eyes on her soaked socks. “I’ll go ahead and rest as well, unnie. Sorry again for worrying you this much. I’m all good now.”
Rolling her eyes, Haewon gives her a gentle pat on the head. “Rest well, Jiwoo-yah.”
Jiwoo gives her a weak, grateful smile and makes for her room.
The first thing she does is take off her socks, hanging them on the hamper for tomorrow’s batch of laundry. She’ll have to do it the moment she wakes up if she doesn’t want it to stink up her room, and Jiwoo scrunches up her nose at the thought. More chores, courtesy of Jang Kyujin.
Jiwoo pauses.
Kyujin’s offhand remark echoes in her mind like a song she accidentally played over and over again.
What does it mean to be bad at looking for things? Jiwoo can’t come up with an answer to supply her itching curiosity. Perhaps only Kyujin could give her a concrete explanation for it, but Jiwoo doesn’t know when or how they’d be seeing each other again.
With a huff, Jiwoo lies down on her bed, her phone clutched in her hand, and glares into her ceiling like it would spell everything out for her.
“Jang Kyujin,” Jiwoo whispers the name, letting every syllable settle in the silence of her room.
Even as the shadows of sleep encroach her vision, Jiwoo finds that the often empty section of her brain is filled with a face littered by a pretty constellation of moles, cat-like eyes, and a stupid, stupid grin that somehow retained its novelty throughout the years.
—
A loud, thundering series of crows knocks Jiwoo awake and sends her scrambling to reach for her phone, blinking the drowsiness away from her eyes.
She grips the device firmly in her palm, cursing as she types in her password, only to pause at the words reflected on the screen.
Wake up, Kim Jiwoo! Audition later at 1 PM sharp! Don’t fail this time!
A sinking feeling begins to stir in the pits of her stomach, cold and seething.
All thoughts of sleep banished from her mind, Jiwoo swipes the alarm pop-up away and looks at the date listed at the top of the interface.
May 14, 2025.