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The uneven rhythm of the rain echoed down the corridor of the dorm.
There was no music, no chatter, no signs of life other than the soft clack of nails on a glass screen.
Haewon was mindlessly scrolling her phone, eyes unfocused, mind elsewhere. Even though the dancing images on her screen weren’t keeping her attention, she wasn’t bored. She had planned it this way - a day to herself, alone with the still air and the quiet sounds of rain.
She wasn't avoiding anyone. She had spent breakfast with her fellow members, something that rarely happened when a new release was on the horizon. Someone always had something to attend to in the early mornings, and during group activities they usually just ate fruit and coffee on their way to wherever their manager was driving them. Today was a rare off-day - no stipulations, no half-schedules, no solo member promotions. A small reward for their hard work.
The others had all made plans, checking off long-standing items on their to-do lists. Lily's mother had wanted to take her out for tea, knowing that the upcoming promotions and impending world tour meant she may not see her daughter for a while. Kyujin and Jiwoo had been dying to go to a cafe they had seen online - it had some weekend special and it's all they had talked about for weeks. Yoona finally had the time to go clothes shopping. She’d spent the past month fretting about how none of her clothes were suitable for the coming winter. And Jinsol had been coy about what she was up to; it had something to do with her birthday, which wasn't until the end of December, but when anyone pressed her she simply smirked and said it was nothing to worry about.
Haewon knew better than to take Jinsol at face value. Jinsol simply beamed at her, promising to be home for dinner.
They had all promised that. If breakfast together was a rarity, then dinner together at the dorm was a full-on myth - something only half-remembered, no one sure if it had ever really happened. But they had all agreed that these bonding opportunities were important. It was a chance to remind themselves that, before they were coworkers and group members and dormmates, they were friends.
The rain pattered against the window. The room was dyed in a blueish-grey. Haewon never turned on an artificial light if she could avoid it.
When was the last time she was even alone in the dorm in the middle of the day? At least a few months. Maybe even a year.
The promotions for their latest release, Forward, had come to an end, and they had immediately jumped into preparing for their first full album in October. Vocals had been recorded, choreo was being etched into their muscles, and the editors were working overtime on the photos and videos.
They had fallen into a steady rhythm just over 3 years into their career. They charted well, but never that well. Their fanbase grew, slowly. People liked their music, maybe even loved it, but attention was hard to hold and there were new groups every week, ready to steal the public's eyes.
Something had shifted though.
Haewon felt her eyes unfocus. Her mind started wandering.
Something about their most recent release felt different. Forward had pushed them in a way they hadn’t felt since they were trainees. It had challenged them to really project their emotions into their voices. It was all well and good to be technically proficient at singing, to wow people with your high notes and power vocals. But to inspire emotion? To tug at something subconscious in your audience, make them feel exactly as you did while you sang? That was something special.
And people had taken notice. People were talking about NMIXX. Not in the same way as they had in the past, not out of pity or confusion or spite. People were surprised. Maybe even impressed. No, they hadn’t blown up the charts, but people were noticing their music. They were recognizing what the group had spent 3 years building towards.
And people liked it. People really liked it. As she scrolled through her social media after the album’s release, she had seen people talking about Forward like it was something special. Like it should be winning awards. People loved High Horse, and Know About Me, and Papillon. They were calling them “songs of the year”.
Something had changed. Something was building.
Haewon closed her eyes for a moment. She didn’t want to get too excited. Nothing was promised, and they had a lot of work ahead. Their first full album was coming up, and although she was confident about the songs they had recorded, she needed to keep a level head.
She opened her eyes and looked up from her phone. Park Jin-young had recently scolded her for using it too much, saying she should be more like Lily and read more books. She apologized in an overly-formal manner, a joke for the Game Caterer cameras and the other JYP artists around them. She would never admit he was right. She put the phone down on the table anyways.
She reached for her mug and took a sip. Chamomile tea. It was bitter, and not in the electric way her regular americano was. It was earthy and tasted a bit like dirt.
She had promised to slow her caffeine intake on days like today, where she didn't need to be personable and charming and funny on 2 hours of sleep.
She had promised her managers, who drove her home at 2am and picked her up at 6am and knew she hadn't slept. She hadn’t really meant it then.
She had promised her doctor, who warned her about what excessive caffeine intake could do to her heart and how important regular, consistent sleep was for her health. She still hadn't really meant it.
She had promised Lily, who had taken her hands and looked at her with concern in her big brown eyes. Lily, who had read one too many medical articles about "caffeine overdose" and had watched Haewon fall asleep in the makeup chair one too many times. She had begged her for at least a compromise, to start small. Over time, she swore she wouldn't even notice the change.
Haewon had promised Lily.
Something had shifted.
She had really meant it that time.
Another sip. It was okay. She liked the smell, at least.
Haewon leaned back into the couch. She took in the room around her for what felt like the first time. How long had that small leafy plant been on the side table next to the TV? Kyujin must’ve bought it recently. She loved attending to all the little greenery dotting the dorm.
The bookshelf was more full than she remembered too. New colors and fonts were interspersed among the ones she recognized. Lily must've run out of space in her room and was slowly colonizing the common areas now.
Her eyes focused a little bit, locked onto the far end of the 3rd shelf. Seven colorful cardboard rectangles of various sizes and shapes. One copy of each of their seven releases as a group.
She leaned forward, placing her mug back on the table. Her eyes scanned the sides of each album jacket, reading them as if she didn't have every word, every beat, every note weaved into the fabric of her being.
She leaned back, smirking. That was it, huh? Three-and-a-half years of performing. Four-and-a-half years of training. Eight years of bruises and back pain, strained vocal cords, tears of frustration and tears of relief and tears of hunger during intense practice sessions. A lifetime of wanting to sing. Of wanting to be noticed.
There it all was, taking up a third of a shelf, bookended by some fantasy novel Lily had described as "pretty meh".
Haewon thought she would feel disappointed, or frustrated, or a little sad. Maybe debut Haewon would. The young girl, just a few days from her 19th birthday, who had been saddled with the leader role she wasn't sure she deserved. The Haewon who would have to navigate the negative reception to their debut, the hate comments, the departure of one of her members.
She took a deep breath.
This wasn't the time to think about those things. This Haewon wasn't that Haewon. She had navigated those obstacles. Not perfectly, not by a long shot, but the best she could. And she was still here. NMIXX was still here.
When she looked at those albums, all she could feel was pride.
She sank backwards, leaning into the plush fabric, her feet propped up in front of her on the couch, her head sinking below the horizon of her knees. She couldn’t help but feel a bit anxious still. The industry was brutal, and could wear you down quickly. All it took was one misstep.
Before the thought could worm its way into her head, she sat up straight, put her feet on the floor and removed her glasses, laying them on the table. The room faded into shapes and colors, a blueish-grey filter covering everything. The rain pattered against the window in an uneven rhythm.
She took a deep breath. She remembered a technique, but she wasn't sure where she had learned it. She had read it online, or someone had told her about it, or she had pieced it together herself and it didn't actually exist. But with no other distractions in the empty dorm, it was worth trying.
Take a deep breath.
Close your eyes.
1...
2...
3...
Exhale.
Open.
Her eyes readjusted to the hues of the room around her. It...kind of worked. She felt calmer at least, but her mind wasn't much clearer.
If there was one part of herself Haewon would change, it would be her tendency to get lost in her own thoughts. She'd seen people call it "spiralling", getting caught in a loop of thoughts that piled onto each other until they felt crushing. She had gotten better at handling it, but when she was alone, or couldn't sleep, her mind would wander.
She remembered another technique. This one she knew was real. Or, at least, she hadn't made it up in her head.
A dance instructor from when she was a trainee had noticed that Haewon often beat herself up about every minor mistake. She had told the teenager that, while it was good to hold herself to a high standard, she couldn't stew in the bad feelings. So, when she started thinking negative thoughts, she needed to spin them around.
Instead of "I can't get this detail right", think "I've figured out the basics, and now I have time to perfect it."
Instead of "I'll never be able to hit this note", think "I used to worry about keeping stable, now I don't even have to think about it. I can focus on expanding my range and improving my technique."
And so Haewon took another sip of her chamomile tea. It had cooled off - she liked it more when it wasn't boiling hot.
She thought about how far NMIXX had come in their careers. Instead of thinking about the obstacles, she thought about how they had overcome them. She thought about how each member had grown and changed and blossomed.
Her eyes caught the green of the small plant near the TV set. She thought about Kyujin.
Kyujin was always way too mature for her age. When they had first met, Haewon couldn’t believe she was the youngest trainee in the company. She was so composed, so calm. She could be a bit mischievous, but never immature. And she was always getting better at everything. It was like she had an endless capacity for training, always seeking out extra chances to learn from the instructors. Even through their debut, people had called her the “ace maknae.”
But after debut, something changed. People criticized her for “trying too hard”, for “overdancing”. What did that even mean? She never-
Haewon’s feet squeezed the cool floorboards of the dorm.
Deep breath.
Close your eyes.
1…
2…
3…
Exhale.
Open.
…she refocused. The question at hand: how had Kyujin grown?
Kyujin was always well ahead of her peers her age. She always learned a little faster, noticed more details, and practiced a little harder. But debuting so young meant that she never had a chance to be the one mentoring others. She usually refrained from giving advice or pointing out flaws, not wanting to come across as rude or as if she knew better.
As she grew more comfortable with her group members though, they encouraged her to speak up. They hadn’t wanted her to feel like she was just along for the ride. They wanted her to know they respected her and her opinions. Haewon had paid particularly close attention to Kyujin, seeing something special in their youngest member.
Haewon knew her critiques could be brusque, harsh, a little too sharp. It was her style, and while the members never complained, she wasn’t oblivious to their feelings. When tensions were a little higher and patience was a little thinner, she could see Yoona roll her eyes just a little bit harder, or Jiwoo pout a little bit longer.
Kyujin had that touch that Haewon didn’t. Her pointers were sharp and detailed. Like Haewon, she didn’t couch them in compliments - they were professionals after all, no need to baby each other. But Kyujin’s tone was just a bit softer. She spoke like an expert. She always knew the perfect moment to jump in, right when the member was ready to truly take in the advice. Had Kyujin spent more time as a trainee, Haewon was sure she would’ve been dubbed one of the Elite Trainees.
Despite Tomoya’s insistence during their Game Caterers episode, Haewon was decisively not an Elite . At JYP, being an Elite didn’t just mean excelling at all the performance aspects. The company encouraged older trainees to take on mentorship roles with younger or newer trainees. This was something Haewon never really embraced. It’s why she was shocked when they told her she was to be the leader of a new girl group.
Kyujin though? She had that drive. She didn’t even need to try to lead, people would just naturally follow her, knowing that they would improve just from her presence. She was no longer following delicately behind the rest of the members. She was the one they looked to when they needed that extra push to get through a brutal dance practice.
Haewon slouched back into the couch, a satisfied smile on her face. The rain pattered against the window. The smell of chamomile wafted through the air. That felt right for Kyujin.
But Haewon had a new problem. She had started this exercise, and now she had to finish it. It was one of the arbitrary little rules in her head she needed to follow. It wasn’t fair to the other members if she only thought about Kyujin, she decided.
The next member she chose was a lot easier to figure out though. Since she started at the youngest, she might as well continue on from there. Jiwoo’s big, round puppy-dog eyes appeared in her mind.
How could anyone ever be mean to this face, Haewon thought. How could people say those things about a 16-year old-
Deep breath.
Eyes closed.
1…
2…
3…
Exhale.
Open.
Jiwoo’s growth was easy to see. She was so shy at debut. She had closed herself off, scared of being hurt more than she already was. It took her a long time to come out of her shell, for her to feel like she was finally meeting people’s expectations. And now that she had gotten more comfortable being on stage, on camera, in front of fans, she was like sunshine given human form.
She was always bouncing with energy, so much that you would swear you could see her sparking and crackling. Anything felt possible when she gave you a big toothy smile, took your hand, and dragged you off to whatever had caught her interest in that moment. There was no way they could even think about giving up if it meant making her sad.
And in her moments of calm, when she had exhausted her seemingly endless reserves, she was clingy and affectionate. She almost begged for attention, seeking out any free arm or shoulder to lean up on. A vulnerability laid bare that, just a few years ago, would’ve seemed impossible.
Haewon had always respected how talented Jiwoo was, and it made her smile knowing people had started to see what she always knew. She knew that Jiwoo could sing and rap and dance in a way that contrasted the rest of the group. Her punchy, deep-voiced raps, her sharp and powerful dance, the way her vocals fleshed out every chorus and melody - no one else could do those things. Every time she watched back behind-the-scenes of their time in the studio, she found herself seeing some new dimensions of Jiwoo’s abilities.
Haewon remembered how people used to say Jiwoo didn’t “fit” NMIXX. It made her laugh every time she thought about it. NMIXX was a puzzle with a perfectly Jiwoo-shaped piece, right in the middle.
She heard something buzz, her visions of the strangely puppylike idol fading away. She was once again aware of the sound of rain, the blueish-grey hues, the smell of chamomile.
She reached for her glasses, then her phone. The team groupchat. It was just after noon, the last member had scampered out the door just over 3 hours ago.
lily: “we just finished our tea and we’re going to walk around a bit b4 i head back. maybe like an hr?”
Haewon felt her lips curl into a smile. As long as everyone made it back in time for dinner, there was no need to keep each other updated. Unless something delayed one of them, she hadn’t expected to hear from them until they walked in the door.
But Lily wasn’t really updating the rest of the group. She was talking to Haewon.
She knew Haewon liked the peace and quiet. Of course she knew. She wanted her to enjoy as much of it as she could get. She was making sure Haewon knew exactly when she would be home. No surprises, no unexpected interruptions.
haewon: “okayyy. see you in a bit”
She went to put the phone back down when it buzzed one more time.
jinsol: “say hi to your mom for us”
Accompanying the message was a sticker of a sickeningly-cute bear making a little smile. Haewon firmly put the phone down, determined to ignore any other notifications until at least Lily returned home.
If Jiwoo was a sunbeam, Haewon thought, then Jinsol was the entire sun.
When they debuted, no one was harder on themselves than Jinsol. She never felt like she was good enough at anything, even though she worked as hard as anyone. No matter how much the others reassured her, she seemed stuck in her own mind. Even now, so far into their careers, Jinsol would immediately point out where her vocals could use some work and which of her dance moves weren’t sharp enough.
The meaning behind her words had shifted though. It was no longer about correcting flaws. It was about pushing herself further. Before, she had wanted to hide away her mistakes. Now, she sought to show the world how far she could go.
It took a long time, but slowly she found her own rhythm. Her raspy voice grew its own fanbase. It became something she was proud of, something that was distinctly hers. She was tall, and lithe, and had this charming beauty that enraptured their fans. Haewon had always liked her long hair, but when Jinsol had gotten it chopped to necklength, it was like a new person awakened.
And when she finally felt self-assured enough to be herself on stage, everyone fell in love. Her energy was unstoppable.
She thought of Jiwoo and Kyujin like little animals, a puppy and a kitten, scurrying back and forth, always looking for someone to play with them.
She thought of Jinsol as a semi-truck, crashing through the building, no sign of stopping.
She threw herself to the floor in mock outrage, her face contorting into dramatic expressions. She swung her hips at anyone that got within the strike zone. She never met a situation she couldn’t turn into an opportunity to flirt. She never met a situation she couldn’t turn into an opportunity to cry. She was mischievous, she was dramatic, she was earnest. She craved physical touch, as if the rest of the group might float away if she didn’t hold onto them. They always obliged, even if it was begrudgingly.
Even Haewon, off-camera, off-stage, in the privacy of their dorm, couldn’t help but feed off of Jinsol’s rambunctious energy, even just a little bit.
The dorm creaked. The warmer afternoon air fighting with the leftover cold from the morning. Fall wasn’t quite here yet, but it was seeping its way through the city. Haewon sipped her tea, which had cooled past room temperature.
It was okay. It was better cold than hot, she thought. The smell was still nice.
She leaned again into the couch behind her, then flopped to the side, resting her head on a pillow propped up against the armrest. Her legs sprawled across the cushions.
The rain pattered against the window. Her feet no longer felt the cold hardwood floors, but the warm fabric of the couch.
She wasn’t sure what was bringing on these feelings today. She wasn’t a particularly sentimental person. She didn’t reminisce like this, certainly not by herself.
Maybe this was what maturing was. You sit alone at home and you just think about things.
When she was a trainee, she sometimes saw the older trainees staring off into space in-between practices. She had always assumed they were just tired, or thinking about the future. Maybe they were. When she had dared to ask if they were okay, they would look at her, an expression on their face she couldn’t place. They would say they were fine, but they appreciated her concern.
She wondered if she was making that same face now. She wasn’t sure how to describe it. Some mix of nostalgia, wistfulness and affection. She blamed the rainy weather.
Yoona had made a similar face this morning. Or at least, similar in that Haewon couldn’t quite figure it out.
When she had finally woken up fully, about halfway through breakfast, she had started talking about her plans for the day. She was excited to finally get some winter clothes - the ones in her closet had frayed threads, or didn’t fit, or she just didn’t like them anymore. Jinsol had teased that Yoona was probably going to find her way to a sweets shop, and somehow come back with her favourite cookies. Yoona pouted at Jinsol. Jinsol asked if she could bring her some cookies back for dessert.
Yoona’s face had softened. Haewon just caught a glimpse of it, but there was something to it she couldn’t quite place. Yoona had told Jinsol “only if she behaved”. An impossible ask, Haewon had thought, but they all knew that meant extra cookies for dessert.
The first thing Haewon remembers about Yoona is that she was intimidated by her. It’s pretty funny in retrospect, but she wasn’t the only one. Everyone knew she had been scouted by SM, YG and JYP. She was someone all the big players in the industry wanted. Haewon knew she was tall, and she was pretty, and she could sing as well as anyone.
But then Haewon really met Yoona. Sure, she was still tall, and pretty. Her singing voice was strong, with a hint of huskiness, and deeper than you would’ve expected. But she was also almost unbearably shy, sometimes speaking barely above a whisper. Whenever she wasn’t practicing, she was playing her mobile games and looking for any snack she could get her hands on.
This didn’t change much after they debuted. She struggled with her shyness, always needing someone to coax her out of hiding. Her voice was still strong, her dancing graceful and coordinated, but people started to refer to her as just the visual.
Haewon recalled some interview from years ago. Lily had said something about Yoona, about how people might look at her and just see her visuals. The hosts had laughed. Fans clipped it and laughed. People joked about Lily making yet another faux pas in her shaky Korean.
The members knew what she meant though. She wasn’t saying Yoona was just this one thing. She was telling people not to underestimate her.
If you showed the Yoona of those days the Yoona of today, she’d have a panic attack. She was still an introvert, still seeking her iPad and her snacks and a quiet chair to fall asleep on the moment she could. But when she could feel the fans watching, the audience cheering, her members egging her on, she would erupt with charm. Scampering back and forth on stage, joking and playing with Jiwoo or Jinsol, seeking out Lily to hug and dance with her.
Whether the other members had rubbed off on her or if she had just developed a new side of herself, it didn’t really matter. It was as authentic as the Yoona who spent rest days laying in bed, typing messages and playing games. They were just two aspects of the same person, someone who felt comfortable in their skin, sure of themselves no matter where they were.
Her phone buzzed again. Haewon sat up. She took a handful of trail mix from the bowl on the table, left there for anyone in need of a little snack, and washed it down with a little more tea.
She had promised herself not to check her phone again, but wanted to see when Lily would be home. The time read 12:38. Maybe half-an-hour. She glanced at the notification.
Lily. This time not in the groupchat. She opened it.
lily: “hi haewonnie, i’m headed home now! dont worry youve still got like 40 minutes :)”
Haewon definitely couldn’t stop the smile this time.
haewon: “okay, thx for letting me know. hope you had fun with your mom, tell me about it when you get back”
lily: “you betcha!”
Her phone found itself face-down on the table again. Haewon sighed a little bit. This thought exercise was tiring, but it had definitely reoriented her mind. Her musings on her members had all but drowned out her earlier anxiety, and the calm of the empty dorm was embracing her again.
But…did she have to include herself in this too? Going by the order she had already committed to, she would be next. But that felt weird. Was she supposed to think of herself in the abstract, as if it was a different person? Or was it self-reflection?
She could probably skip herself, she figured. She had made this whole thing up in her head after all, there weren’t really any rules.
So that meant next was…well…
She scowled a little bit.
Next was Haewon, she decided. It would probably be easy. She wouldn’t wince too much.
She returned to laying down on the couch. The rain still pattered against the window. The room still smelled of chamomile, though it was getting duller as her mug cooled and emptied.
How had she changed? Besides the obvious stuff - learning how to lead a group and how to sing in front of thousands and how to host a comedy show - how was this Haewon, laying softly on the couch, different from the one who cried when she found out she was finally debuting?
She had to really think about this one. She pushed aside the cliche answers, the ones she gave during interviews and on lives and at fanmeets. Even if these were just lazy thoughts on a rainy afternoon, it was important to her that her answer was real.
Adjectives raced through the darkness behind her now-closed eyes. She just needed to reach out and grab one of them and she’d be satisfied. One word to encapsulate the last three-and-a-half years of her life.
One word kept catching her attention as it soared through her mind. Honest.
Was that right? Was she more honest? Was she ever dishonest?
Or, she contemplated, not dishonest per se. Guarded, maybe? She had definitely been guarded. She was still guarded. She was an idol, after all. You can’t be truly honest when your entire career revolves around carefully crafting and maintaining a particular image.
But no other word appeared before her any more. Honest just floated there, refusing to budge. She imagined herself swatting at it like a mosquito that refused to leave her alone.
Okay, fine, she wanted to move on anyway. She committed to the question: how was she more honest now than she was before? What was she honest about?
This whole morning she spent laying on the couch, thinking lovingly about her members, was pretty honest she figured. She couldn’t imagine feeling this vulnerable as a trainee, even in the safety of her own mind. She probably still couldn’t say any of these things to the members directly, but maybe one day?
The thought of saying any of this to another human made her want to shrivel into dust.
Were vulnerability and honesty the same thing?
She thought about what being vulnerable meant to her. Was it about being open about her feelings, even when she felt afraid? She remembered Lily preaching on a live that crying showed strength, not weakness. She thought about Jinsol and Yoona, who seemed to have taken that message to heart whether they knew it or not.
Was that honesty though? Maybe to Lily and Jinsol and Yoona. But Haewon didn’t wear her emotions like that. She wasn’t sure she ever would. Honesty manifested differently in her, she knew it, but she couldn’t place how.
Did it have to do with knowing what you want and acting on it? Was it the way Kyujin wanted people to look up to her? Or the way Jiwoo sought affection when she needed it?
No, not for Haewon at least. She would describe that feeling as hunger. That was the aching feeling she felt when she was a child, wondering if she could ever really be an idol. That was the desperation she felt as a trainee, watching others climbing the rankings. The way she looked for any edge to separate her from everyone else.
Still no answer. Her thoughts were becoming disjointed. She needed to spin her thinking around. She needed to think about the last time she felt truly honest with herself.
She thought about High Horse and about the way it had pushed her. The way she struggled with her verses, how they had demanded something of her that she hadn’t felt before. It required her to chip away at herself, just a little bit, to find the right emotions, the right notes, to really reach their fans. It was draining to be honest, but she was proud of herself when it was done. The members loved it. The fans adored it. The critics couldn’t stop talking about it.
It wasn’t just the vocals that had pushed her either. The emotional climax of the song was just her and Lily, alone, dancing with one another. It was new for them, and for the group - a duet in every meaning of the word. Mirror images of one another. Eyes locking, then drifting. Hands never straying from each other. Lily’s voice driving them up, Haewon’s carrying them to the peak.
They were reflections, but not perfectly so. They shared the same shape, but their edges didn’t match. Jagged and grooved in different places - different insecurities, different experiences, different ways of thinking. But when they locked eyes, their hands meeting, Haewon’s voice rising to a crescendo…
Haewon loved her members, and respected their talents. She knew that anyone in the group could sing that part, dance that part, give up the piece of their soul it demanded.
But if she was being honest, she knew it had to be her and Lily. It was always her and Lily. The song demanded her and Lily.
It was the eight years they’d been together. It was the quiet comfort as they rode the bus from high school to the practice studio, trying to sneak as much of a nap as they could. It was the dance practices that ran late, when they’d curl up together in the corner of the room while catching their breath. It was the promises they had made, swearing to keep pushing each other to greater heights. It was the tears and hugs and runny noses they shared when they were told they’d finally debut. That they’d debut together.
It was Haewon hearing Lily sing for the first time and thinking it was the most beautiful voice she’d ever heard.
It was Lily hearing Haewon sing for the first time and realizing she had found her other half.
To Haewon, that was honesty. Full, unconditional trust in the girl she had spent a third of her life standing next to. Faith that any argument, any hurt feeling, any annoyance would soon give in to the warmth and comfort of their shared bond.
She felt honest when she was with the other members too, knowing that they’d understand her. They knew her way of doing things, of saying things, the way her mind worked. When others might think she was being rude or nitpicky, they knew it was her way of showing she cared.
But with Lily, she didn’t need to say a thing. A look, a touch of their hands, a soft sigh, and all was shared. It was something that had grown between them, and now it was as natural as breathing. They responded to each other without thinking, always knowing the right words.
Lily had changed, sure. She had grown too, in ways obvious and ways only the members saw. She was better with affection, both giving and receiving. She was more honest about when she was frustrated or upset. She took pride in more than just her singing voice, but also in her curiosity, her thoughts on books and movies, her charming sense of humor.
The rain pattered against the window. Haewon took a deep breath, taking in the smell of chamomile tea for perhaps the last time before it fully faded away.
Lily hadn’t really changed though. All those things were a part of her when Haewon had first met her in the practice studio when they were only 14 and 15. They were a part of her when they debuted. They would be a part of her 20, 30, 40 years from now.
That was true of Kyujin too, and Jiwoo. Of everyone. They had always had these parts to them, maybe a little hidden under the surface, waiting to be found. But they were always there.
Kyujin had always been a leader. Jiwoo had always sparkled and shone. Jinsol had always had enough love for the entire world. Yoona had always fed off everyone’s energy.
Haewon had always felt like she could be honest, at first with Lily, then with everyone.
Lily had always been her other half.
The door lock clicked - a key pushing the pins into the tumbler. Jagged edges riding along grooves until they found their perfect fit. The sleepy girl on the couch sat up, ready to welcome home the first returnee.
Through the door and into the shelter of the dorm scampered Lily, damp from the rain and happy to be inside in the warmth once again. Haewon didn’t even notice the stillness of the dorm disappear, her attention fully on the friendly presence now in her vision.
They exchanged greetings as the blonde girl shed her jacket and boots, leaving both in the entryway alongside a soaked umbrella.
Haewon asked how Lily’s mother had been. Lily lit up, warmth radiating from her face.
She was doing well, and Lily had missed her a lot. She knew they may not get a chance to see each other over the end-of-year holidays, so Lily had spent the day hanging onto every word and every motion her mother made, hoping they would be committed to her memory.
“You’re such a romantic.” her sleepy-eyed groupmate chortled. Lily tried to put on a face of mock outrage, but her smile wouldn’t stop peeking through.
“And what about you? Have you spent all day sleeping? Or were you scrolling through your phone?”
“Mmmm. Something like that.”
It came out more mysterious than she had intended, as if she had wanted someone to dig into it a bit more.
“Well, you can tell me all about your riveting day in a bit. I need to freshen up and change out of these clothes.”
‘These clothes’ were a cute oversized red sweater and a long grey skirt, reaching down to her ankles. Red was a good color on her, Haewon thought. Maybe her favourite.
As she watched her best friend step towards the hallway, Haewon’s voice leapt from her throat before her mind could catch it.
“Wait, before you go!”
It sounded a little desperate, and if Haewon had the time to think about it, she probably would’ve cringed.
“Do you think we could hang out here? Just for a few minutes?”
Haewon knew her expression was a weird one. She wasn’t sure what it looked like, but she could feel it. If it was Jinsol or Yoona, they would probably giggle. “Haewon-ah” they would say in a mocking tone, “were you feeling lonely without anyone around all day?”
Lily didn’t giggle. She looked at her, until her expression shifted from mild shock to something softer.
“Of course Haewonnie.”
They chatted for a few minutes about Lily’s lunch date, and how her mother had invited Haewon to come along next time.
“I know you like your peace and quiet though, so don’t feel like you have to.”
“Mmm, well, I can make an exception for you.”
A shared giggle. Haewon always made exceptions for Lily.
“And what about your day? What have you been up to, exactly? I still see the tea I made you this morning on the table.” A hint of chamomile stubbornly clung to the air, unwilling to let go.
“Well, I’ve just been sort of zoning out on the couch. I wasn’t on my phone though!” She says that last part with a bit of pride. Lily pats her head while letting out a soft “wow”.
“I’ve just been thinking a lot today. About us, and the group, and how far we’ve come. Maybe the idea of releasing our first real album had me feeling a little sentimental.” A soft smile formed on Haewon’s face, her eyes looking into the distance at nothing in particular.
“I blame the rain. It always makes me feel that way.” Lily said with a giggle. She peered out the window, at the drops pattering against the glass and the trees down the street gently waving in the wind.
She heard a shuffle and the clack of something hitting the table. Before she could look to see what it was, a warm pressure made itself comfortable on her lap. She looked down. Staring up at her were two sparkling black eyes and the gentlest smile she’d ever seen.
For just a moment, every other sensation in the room faded away. Lily couldn't feel the cold floorboards. She couldn't smell the last dredges of tea. She couldn't hear the raindrops on the window. She couldn't see anything but the same face she had looked at every day for eight years. She could see her reflection in those big, sparkling eyes.
“This is new!” she joked, pulling herself back to reality. The girl in her lap smiled even bigger, two little crescents taking the place of her eyes.
“To what do I owe this pleasure?”
“Mmm…” Haewon put her finger to her lower lip, as if she hadn’t known what she was doing.
“I think…”
She trailed off, suddenly a little unsure what she was doing. She decided that honesty was the theme of the day.
“I think I wanted to be close to you. I thought about you a lot today.”
Softer than before.
“Is this okay?”
Barely a whisper.
“Of course it is. Any time you want it.”
Lily’s words rolled out with no hesitation. She hadn’t even thought about her answer. It was the same answer she would’ve given eight years ago. It was the same answer she would give forever.
Haewon rolled onto her side, her face now pointed towards Lily and her oversized red sweater. She closed her eyes and curled her legs towards her torso. Her muscles relaxed.
Before the warmth and the lack of caffeine snatched her into sleep, she turned her head and peeked up towards the owner of the lap she currently occupied. Lily was looking down at her, her expression one that was reserved only for the girl in her lap. Haewon smiled and closed her eyes. She spoke softly.
“No telling the others about this though. I don’t want them all to expect something like this.”
Lily had never been so thankful that the dorm was empty, lest someone catch the blush that had spread across her face. She spoke, even softer.
“Our little secret?”
“Mhmm. Just you and me.” Another whisper.
Then stillness. The rain pattering the window. The cold hardwood under her feet. The delicate smell of chamomile making its final stand.
The soft sound of breathing. The silky hair between her fingers as she stroked the sleeping girl’s head. The scent of floral shampoo still clinging to each strand.
Lily loved secrets. She loved the intimacy of a secret, the bond it created. She still remembered all sorts of secrets she’d been told throughout her life - some important, most just mindless gossip.
The secrets she heard as a child made her giddy, like she was being let into an exclusive club.
The secrets she heard as a teenager made her blush. They were usually about a first kiss, a hidden tryst, or a scandalous rumor.
The secrets she heard as an adult filled her with warmth. They felt like someone was taking a piece of themselves and giving it to her, trusting that she’d hold onto it, that she’d make it a part of her too.
She was pretty sure her love of secrets came from her dad. The two of them would always swap secrets whenever they could. She didn’t remember all of them, most were pretty silly anyways. Things like “Santa brings an extra present for little girls who go to sleep early on Christmas Eve.” Little tricks to get her to behave. He probably read it in a book or saw it on TV.
One secret always stuck with her though. She had been particularly stubborn that day, a family outing to a familiar beach outside of Melbourne. Something about that day had been special, like everything had fallen into place for just a few hours. She had refused to leave, worried things might never be that perfect again. Planted firmly in the sand, she had folded her arms and told her dad to leave her there forever.
Her dad sat beside her in the sand for a minute, rubbing her head. Then he leaned in, like he always did, and told her that he had a secret. He’d tell her, but she had to agree that after he told her, she’d head to the car.
Lily loved secrets. They always worked.
Her dad told her how she could hold onto a moment forever. How she could store it away in her head, coming back to it whenever she wanted. It was really easy too, something she could do anywhere at anytime.
She said that this had better work, or she was going to be mad. He promised.
It was just as easy as he had said. Four simple steps.
Step 1 - She needed to fully experience everything around her with all her senses. Make a note in her head of everything she could hear, see, smell, taste and feel. Every detail she could snap up. Really commit them to memory.
Step 2 - Take a deep breath, ‘til her lungs were full, and then close her eyes. Recreate the scene in her head, as detailed as she could.
Step 3 - Count to three slowly. The longer it took, the more of the moment she would remember.
Step 4 - Breath out. Open her eyes. Done
She heard the pattering of rain against the window. The couch below her rustled softly every time she shifted. The soft breath of the girl laying in her lap made her heart feel full.
She looked at the girl she had once called her “other half”. Every detail on her face, every crease, committed to memory after years of sneaking looks from across the studio, the dorm, the meeting room, the bus, the classroom; anywhere she thought she could look and not get caught.
She looked up. The soft blueish-grey hues of the dorm. The bookshelf, full of her books and all their albums. Kyujin’s newest plant. A phone, with a phone case that matched her own, face down on the table. The almost empty mug of tea. She breathed in.
One last hint of chamomile, as if it had been fighting to be a part of this very moment. As if it knew how important it was. The rain mixing with the detergent left in her sweater. The floral shampoo in Haewon’s hair.
The taste of green tea on her tongue, leftover from lunch. She swallowed, and her throat was dry. It had been since two beautiful black eyes had looked up at her, tracing over her face. Looking at her like she was the only thing in the universe that mattered. Her lips still felt the secret they had whispered to one another - that this moment was theirs and theirs alone.
Soft, rhythmic breath against her stomach. A warm, comfortable weight on her lap. Immeasurably soft hair between her fingers. The cold hardwood beneath her feet. The heat emanating from her cheeks. Her heartbeat, not quick, but loud, pounding against her chest.
She took a deep breath, careful to not disturb her source of warmth from her nap.
She closed her eyes. The scene rebuilt itself behind her eyelids until every detail was right.
She started to count.
1…
The day she first heard the new trainee sing. The day she realized she was looking at something she would never want to let go. The day something shifted in her.
2…
The day they found out they were going to debut together. The day that they’d spent what felt like their entire lives trying to reach. The day they found out who the other members would be, and they all collapsed into a hugging, sobbing mess.
3…
The day she had come home from lunch with her mother, and she was waiting for her. The day she made her promise that this moment was just between them. That this intimacy was only for her. The day she wanted to hold onto forever.
She let out a deep breath.
She opened her eyes.