Chapter Text
By the ninth attempt of convincing herself to ask Yoonchae out, Megan had officially psyched herself out.
Honestly, she didn’t even know why she kept trying.
After debuting together in Katseye and taking the world by storm—along with a handful of miscommunications and awkward moments along the way—Megan had developed a strong, undeniable crush on the younger girl. And with every performance, rehearsal, and work interaction they shared, it only got worse.
Every time Yoonchae did her iconic hair choreography onstage, Megan had to exert an unreasonable amount of effort just to act normal. Normal like she hadn’t just witnessed the best thing since the invention of dance. Normal like she wasn’t the luckiest girl alive to even be in the same room—much less the same girl group—as Yoonchae.
So really, falling for her had been inevitable.
For a long time, Megan had plenty of excuses. Back in their pre-debut days, Yoonchae hadn’t been fluent in English yet. They were both juggling high school while fighting their way through a survival show. After debut, there was that unspoken tension Megan herself had helped create. The atmosphere was awkward, unresolved, and lingering longer than it should have.
But now? Now both of them have graduated high school. Katseye was gaining real momentum, breaking into the global pop and K-pop scene in ways Megan had only ever dreamed of.
And she was running out of excuses.
Megan prided herself on not being a coward. Was she anxiety-ridden? Absolutely. A quirky, dyslexic mess who was allergic to half the planet? One hundred percent. But she refused to let herself be a coward about this—not when her crush on Yoonchae had already taken up far too much mental real estate.
Did she have a plan? Not really. Unless confessing her feelings and bracing herself for rejection counted as one. At least then she’d get closure. She could move on. Pretend none of it had ever happened. Never think about it again.
Totally manageable. No pressure at all.
Besides, Yoonchae came from a very conservative country, with a very conservative family. Megan had already convinced herself that Yoonchae probably didn’t like women. And even if she did, there was no guarantee she’d like Megan.
So all Megan had to do was ask the girl out, get rejected, and then gracefully disappear from her own embarrassment.
Easy.
And if Yoonchae said yes?
Well. There was no point in entertaining impossible scenarios.
Beautiful Chaos rehearsal had been brutal that night. They worked tirelessly count after count, hair whipping, sharp lines and sharper steps. They performed hours of choreography that left her lungs burning and her thoughts scrambled. Sweat clung to the back of her neck as she felt like bending over, hands braced on her knees, just to catch her breath.
“Good work, everyone,” their Sohey said, clapping once. “We’ll pick it back up tomorrow.”
One by one, the room emptied. Shoes squeaked against the floor. Laughter echoed down the hallway. Someone waved goodbye.
Megan straightened slowly.
Yoonchae was still there.
She was standing near the mirror, tying her hair back again, attention split between her phone and the conversation she was clearly having over text. Her brow was faintly furrowed, thumbs moving quickly. Focused. Elsewhere.
Earlier that day, Megan had tried to joke with her—something stupid, something light. Yoonchae had smiled, nodded, given a distracted “Mm-hm.” Nothing wrong with it.
Nothing wrong at all.
But it had stuck in Megan’s chest anyway.
Now, in the quiet practice room, the silence felt heavier than the music had been.
This was her chance.
She grabbed her water bottle, took a long drink, then another, mostly to give her hands something to do. Her heart was pounding too loudly. She could feel it in her ears.
Yoonchae finally looked up.
“You okay?” she asked.
The question was simple.
That did it.
“Yeah,” Megan said too quickly. “I mean—yeah. I’m fine. I just—can I talk to you for a second?”
Yoonchae glanced at the door, then nodded. “Sure.”
She set her phone down on the bench, giving Megan her full attention. Yoonchae’s eyes were focused, face neutral. As if Megan was about to ask her a question about work or the weather.
Megan hated how much that made her want to bolt.
“Okay,” she said, laughing under her breath. “This is probably a bad idea. And I swear I’m not trying to make things weird. And if you say no, I’ll drop it. Completely. Like, I’ll pretend this never happened.”
She stopped, hands curling into fists at her sides.
Yoonchae didn’t interrupt. She just waited.
Megan swallowed.
“I like you,” she blurted. “Like–in a more than a friendly way.”
Her face felt hot. She could practically hear herself spiraling.
“And it’s totally fine if you don’t feel the same,” she rushed on. “Really. I just…needed to say it out loud. I don’t even need an answer right now. Actually, I’d kind of prefer it if you didn’t answer.”
She laughed again, strained and embarrassed.
Silence fell between them.
Megan braced herself for rejection. Or confusion. Or worse: discomfort.
Instead, Yoonchae kept a serious expression. Megan wasn’t sure if it was a good sign or not.
After what felt like an instantaneous eternity, Yoonchae asked, calmly:
“When did you start liking me?”
Megan froze.
“Oh,” she said. “Uh. That’s…does it really matter?”
Yoonchae tilted her head slightly. “It does to me.”
Her tone wasn’t teasing. And her eyes still bore into Megan’s face.
Megan stared at the floor. “I don’t know. A while ago. Maybe sometime in Dream Academy? It kinda just… happened.”
Yoonchae nodded slowly, processing.
“You know, I’ve never really thought about dating,” she said after a moment. “Not seriously.”
Megan’s chest tightened, but she didn’t interrupt.
“I feel like I’ve always been busy all the time.” Yoonchae continued. “There was never any time for that kind of thing.”
Megan braced her jaw, waiting for the inevitable rejection.
“But” Yoonchae added, thoughtfully, “I’m not against it.”
Her words hit Megan like a punch to the chest.
“So,” Yoonchae said, after another pause, “if you’re asking me out… I’d like to try.”
Megan blinked. “Try?”
“I don’t know if it’ll work out,” Yoonchae admitted. “But I want to see for myself.”
For a second, Megan couldn’t speak.
She had expected hopeful rejection. Gentle deflection.
She hadn’t expected this.
“Yeah,” she said finally, voice soft and stunned. “Okay. Yeah. We can…try.”
Yoonchae gave a small smile. Megan could hear her heart beating in her ears.
Even so, nothing seemed to change after that. They packed up quietly, the practice room empty except for the soft echo of their footsteps.
Megan’s head was still spinning. She hadn’t planned past the confession. Hadn’t planned past the possibility of rejection.
But Yoonchae was still there.
Walking back next to her. Not pulling away. Not awkward.
Megan had no idea what “trying” would look like.
She just knew she was going to try her best not to mess it up.