Chapter Text
It started with a hello.
Years ago, in the Starship basement, I had begged my mom to take me to the audition. I still remember how my voice shook, how tightly I held onto her hand, afraid she might change her mind. I had just finished celebrating my sister’s graduation when everything shifted. I got scouted. I made it. My life quietly turned in a direction I could never take back.
And the first thing I heard when I stepped into that unfamiliar place was a soft, bright
“Hello.”
I turned around.
There she was. A girl about my height, smiling like she had been waiting for me all along. Warm. Open. Unafraid. There was something about her that felt immediate, like comfort I had not earned yet.
Maybe that was when it started.
“Hi, my name is An Yujin,” she said, a little breathless but confident. “I’ve been training here for about six months now. I noticed you just came in, so I wanted to introduce myself. If you ever need a friend, or someone to show you the ropes… I mean, I know I haven’t been here that long, but I would really love to help.”
I remember smiling so wide my cheeks hurt.
“Thank you. I would love that.”
And just like that, we became inseparable.
People started to expect it. If I was gone, they would ask her where I was. If she disappeared, they would turn to me. It became something natural, something unquestioned, like we existed in pairs rather than alone.
Later, we found out we were exactly a year apart. Three hundred sixty five days. She was born first, and then I followed, like I had been meant to arrive just after her. It felt like fate, even if I never said it out loud.
There was also Gaeul unnie. She had been there longer than both of us, about a year ahead. At first she was intimidating, quiet and observant in a way that made me feel small. But she cared. She always did, even when she did not show it in obvious ways.
A few months passed, filled with practice rooms, aching muscles, and late nights. Then one day, after practice, the company called me, Yujin, and a few other girls in for a meeting.
They talked about Produce.
The possibility of joining. The opportunity. The risk.
We were young. Too young, maybe. But if we made it, we would have time. Time to grow, time to return, time to debut again under Starship.
It felt like everything at once.
At the end of it, Yujin and I were selected.
Produce was… brutal.
There were performances that never seemed to end, practices that bled into the next morning, nights where sleep became something distant and almost unnecessary. Meals were forgotten. Time blurred.
There were moments I doubted myself.
Everyone was so good. So polished. So ready.
And I was the youngest.
Still learning. Still unsure.
They said I had promise, but promise felt small compared to the overwhelming presence of everyone else.
Yujin unnie, on the other hand, was doing so well.
Too well, sometimes.
There were moments I caught her looking at me, and something in her expression would shift. Guilt, maybe. Or something close to it. I never understood why. Even when we were placed on different teams, when we stood on separate stages, she would look at me like she was apologizing for something I did not know how to name.
I never thought too deeply about it.
I just… loved her.
We were close. Not quite competition, not quite separate. Something in between.
Then came a performance where I did not do well.
I was not in my zone. My body moved, but my mind lagged behind. I felt it the moment it ended.
And I knew she noticed.
So I smiled. I laughed. I stayed as bright and bubbly as I could be. I worked harder, acted lighter, pretended nothing was wrong so she would not worry.
She had always been like that. Always putting others before herself.
I loved that about her.
But sometimes I would scold her.
“Unnie, you need to take care of yourself first,” I would tell her. “One day you’re going to burn out.”
She would just laugh it off.
But that day, the pressure got to me.
I was only fourteen.
There was only so much I could hold in.
So I went somewhere quiet. Somewhere no one would see me fall apart.
The roof.
The night air was cold, sharp against my skin as I tried to breathe through everything I had been holding back. And then I broke.
I cried.
Not quietly. Not gracefully. I cried like everything inside me was spilling over at once.
And then I felt it.
Arms wrapping around me from behind.
My stomach dropped.
I knew who it was before I even turned around.
I had tried to avoid her so she would not worry.
But she found me anyway.
And that was what broke me completely.
“I don’t think I can do this anymore, unnie,” I whispered through tears. “I don’t think I’ll make it. We’re going to be separated. You’ll be in the group, and I’ll go back to the company. We’ll be apart for two years. I don’t think I have what it takes to make the final lineup. There are so many talented girls… they’ll pick them instead of me.”
Her grip tightened.
“Stop saying that,” she said firmly. “The public loves you. You’re talented. Believe in yourself. We’re going to make it through this together. If anything, I should be the one worried.”
I shook my head.
“You can’t be serious, unnie. You’re one of the best. You dance well, you sing well, you’re funny… you’re everything. You’re the perfect idol.”
She pulled back just enough to look at me.
“Then if we both think that way,” she said softly, “there’s no way we won’t both make it. So pick yourself up, do your best, and we’ll meet at the finish line.”
And somehow, we did.
We both made it.
Our time in IZ*ONE was something I can never replace. It gave me experience, memories, and ten other unnies who loved me in ways I did not expect.
But more than that… it gave me time with her.
I think that was when it really started.
At first, I ignored it.
Fans would capture moments, angles, expressions. They would point things out, laugh about them, make edits.
But sometimes, when I looked at her… there was something in my gaze.
Something too soft. Too full.
Like she had hung the stars herself and I was just lucky enough to see them.
I did not notice it then.
I told myself it was admiration. Infatuation. Something harmless.
I never thought it would become more.
She would do the smallest things.
Hand me water.
Remind me to eat.
Stand just a little closer when crowds got overwhelming.
Protect me without making it obvious.
And every time, my heart would react in ways I could not control.
Time would slow.
Everything would quiet.
And warmth would spread through me in a way that felt dangerous.
Because it meant something.
And I did not want it to.
For two years, it kept growing.
Quietly. Steadily.
Like I was falling into something with no bottom, no return.
But I knew.
I knew these feelings would never be returned.
So I buried them.
I turned them into something safe. Something distant.
A memory I could hold without breaking.
Because having her as a friend… having her at all… was better than losing her.
Then IZ*ONE ended.
And I was scared.
Scared we would drift apart for real this time.
It had already started, in small ways. Separate dorms. Busy schedules. Fewer shared moments.
We fought sometimes. We disagreed. But we always found our way back to each other.
And then we debuted again.
IVE.
Gaeul unnie was there, steady as ever. She had stayed. She had waited for us. Even without the title of leader, she held us together in ways no one else could.
Everything should have felt right.
At first, it did.
But then things started to change.
During Eleven promotions, the company told us to tone it down. They wanted other dynamics to shine. They did not want our past to overshadow our future.
So on camera, we became distant.
Off camera, we were still the same.
At least… that was what I told myself.
At first, it did not bother me.
Backstage, nothing had really changed.
If anything, the space helped. It gave me room to breathe. Room to push down the feelings I was still trying to ignore.
But then she got busier.
Earth Arcade.
Schedules that did not align.
Days where we barely saw each other.
And slowly, something shifted.
A distance I could not close.
I needed an outlet.
So I wrote.
I had started during IZ*ONE, scribbling my feelings onto paper, disguising them as songs. Words that meant more than they appeared to. Meanings layered carefully so no one could trace them back to the truth.
So when the manager asked if I wanted to write for the album, I said yes.
I kept everything vague.
Double meanings. Safe interpretations.
If anyone asked, I had an answer ready.
But underneath it all… it was always the same story.
Falling in love with someone I could never have.
Being consumed by them.
And instead of trying to escape… choosing to stay.
Choosing to drown.
Maybe that was what love was.
Because once she entered my heart, she never left.
And I stopped trying to make her.
Then came the interview.
A popular host.
Safe questions at first.
Favorite colors. Exercise routines. Dramas.
Then it shifted.
“What’s your ideal type?”
And then his attention turned to me.
“Wonyoung, you’re known for writing lyrics for your group’s songs. Your most recent work… it really pulled at the heartstrings. It sounded like someone deeply in love, maybe even in a one sided love.”
I smiled.
“It might seem that way,” I said carefully. “But it’s more about growing into yourself. Learning to love who you are, understanding your limits, and knowing who you want to become.”
It was the safest answer.
But he did not stop.
“Let’s say, hypothetically, it is about unrequited love,” he continued. “Would you say it was inspired by someone?”
I paused.
My mind raced.
He said hypothetically.
So I could answer hypothetically.
“Well… if we’re speaking in hypotheticals,” I said slowly, “then one might interpret the song that way. And if it were, then yes… it could be inspired by someone.”
The host smiled.
“Interesting.”
And in that moment, everything began to unravel.