Chapter Text
Five years ago, if Yuna knew that she’d be flying out on a business class flight to New York City, she would have probably just laughed in your face and called you crazy.
It’s a ridiculously long flight, almost fifteen hours, in fact. That’s more than enough time to go shopping in the morning, catch an afternoon bus to her parents’ place, stay for dinner and still make it back home well before the next day.
Her new life is far from what she’d imagined her twenties to be. It’s been nothing but a whirlwind since she’d been scouted outside her university in Seoul, catapulting her into the spotlight of glitz and glamour, which her new friends couldn’t help but envy.
In a mere stroke of luck, she’d gone from disheartenedly flipping over price tags in the mall to modelling for some of the biggest brands she wouldn’t even dare to step into. It’s incredibly surreal how her wildest dreams, plastered on billboards, have mysteriously been brought into reality.
She’s only 21, but it all feels strangely adult, like she’s been sent out into the world in nothing but a well-crafted disguise. Yuna trots down the aisle of her plane until she manages to locate her cushy seat, tucking her things under the tray table before she tries her best to decipher the meaning behind the silhouettes for tomorrow’s show.
Her phone pings to interrupt the whirring of engines in the background. Yuna jumps, quickly switching on airplane mode before taking a peek at the screen.
She still hasn’t gotten used to that part of the job. The almost non-existent break time and round-the-clock availability. She sighs, fighting the instinctual urge to swipe away the notification. It’s obvious who it's from. None other than her human alarm clock, calendar, scheduler, grocery list, and glorified manager all in one, Choi Jiwoo.
My dearest manager Jiwoo: Hey Yuna, you’ve boarded your flight already, right?
My dearest manager Jiwoo: Hope the seat’s comfortable enough.
My dearest manager Jiwoo: Make sure you manage to sleep before tomorrow’s show. The schedule’s still being finalised, but it’ll be ready by the time you arrive.
~ yuna: No seat is wide enough for my long legs.
~ yuna: I’ll try my best to rest, but no guarantees.
Yuna lets out a long exhale, pulling out her cartoon eye mask in her best attempt to get some shut-eye. She’s never found it easy to sleep on flights anyway, let alone her first long-haul one. Worst case scenario, she’ll knock out to some random show she’s downloaded half an hour before getting to the airport.
The captain concludes his final remarks before the plane finally takes off. Staring blankly at the flight map, she can’t help but think of her childhood.
She misses the simplicity and inconsequential nature of it all, better days spent wandering aimlessly in the garden and catching dragonflies.
She’s whisked into a makeup chair after what feels like only a couple of hours later. Jiwoo had picked her up from the airport, barking into a work phone in one hand and clutching an americano in the other. It all feels beautifully hectic, the endless patter of footsteps and honking of car horns being perfectly reminiscent of the fictional New York she’d imagined.
Fortunately, Yuna manages to squeeze in her only short break of the day as the stylists set her hair. She can’t help but fiddle with the freshly dyed ends, lightened with a custom blend of ginger and copper, before striking a cheesy pose to update her friends before tonight’s show.
~ yuna: good morning to all you lame people in korea
~ yuna: guys, doesn’t this colour suit me well?
~ yuna: i’m expecting compliments by the time you all wake up!!
oh no it’s ian: believe it or not, some of us actually have to get up for school :/
oh no it’s ian: i hope you’ll still have hair on your scalp by the time you’re back~
jueun loves kuromi: you look so bad in orange, yuna
jueun loves kuromi: good luck tonight, you’ll need it!
The silence is broken by the clicking of high heels and jingling metal keychains. Yuna looks up in the mirror to see a blonde girl hanging off of her make-up chair, manicured nails sliding atop her armrests as she begins to chatter excitedly.
“Oh my gosh, I’m so sorry to interrupt you, but your dress looks absolutely fabulous for the new season! I have to admit, flowers are kind of basic these days. But the way that silhouette hangs off of you? Is gorgeous.”
Yuna nods aimlessly in shock, not processing a single word with her practically non-existent English proficiency. The girl continues to smile at her as she mumbles a heavily accented yes and thank you, her eyes darting across the room to search for Jiwoo in an instinctive panic.
“You’re a fresh face for tonight’s show, right? I haven’t seen you around before, but if you've made it to NYC, you’re going to do great, I promise. I’m Stella Kim, by the way, in case you haven’t heard of me.”
Yuna blinks. She doesn’t think she knows a Stella Kim, but she’s admittedly behind on the vast majority of pop culture anyway. She chews on her lip before mustering the courage to initiate the conversation this time.
“Yes, I’m new. This is my…first foreign show? I’m from Korea. My English is really bad, I’m sorry.”
Stella dramatically gasps in shock. She takes a second to gather herself before switching to her more hesitant Korean.
“Oh! I’m Korean too! But I was born and raised in Vancouver, Canada.”
“I have to apologise since my Korean is super rusty, but I’ve been practising it a lot more these days. I sort of do fashion editorial in New York now. Though I’m mainly running my own fashion blog alongside my studies.”
Stella hums as she pulls out her phone from her pocket, sliding it across the table to Yuna.
“It was so nice to meet you, but I gotta run to snap some pics for the runway happening soon. I’m so sure that you’re going to kill it at tonight’s show!”
“Do you mind putting in your number for me? I’d love to invite you to the afterparty at my loft later.”
Yuna nods, taken aback but strangely excited at the prospect of meeting new people in a new city. She sneakily punches in her number without Jiwoo’s approval, shooting Stella a grateful smile as the girl fixes her hair in the mirror.
“Awesome! I’ll see you later…”
“Well, the agency gave me an English name, Ana? It’s weird, but you can just call me, Yuna.”
Stella chuckles, “Alright, catch you later, Yuna.”
Stella Kim: photos came out amazing, yuna!
Stella Kim: it couldn’t have been a better international debut
Stella Kim: [address attached] here’s my place btw
Stella Kim: cya later <3
My dearest manager Jiwoo: Oh, you’re going to be out until tomorrow morning?
My dearest manager Jiwoo: That’s fine with me, but you better be ready at the hotel lobby by 7am sharp
My dearest manager Jiwoo: Have fun Yuna, I think the agency will be happy
Yuna scrambles backstage to rinse off her makeup the moment the show’s over.
She tries her best not to chastise the stylists as they delicately peel off her dress, opting to remove her extensions herself to make it out of the venue by 11:30pm. Luckily, she’s packed a spare outfit in her bag. A crumpled cocktail dress and a gifted burgundy jacket fit for any occasion and all of her city photoshoot needs.
Yuna flees into the darkness of the vibrant streets at night, feeling the evening breeze lapping against the tails of her jacket as she hails a taxi directly to the venue.
The car stops in front of a limestone building. Furnished with amber-lit entrances and vintage black railings, it’s something pulled straight out of a magazine. Somehow, she’s let into the building immediately, given a courtesy nod by security before being whisked into an elevator to Stella’s loft.
The door dings open to an assault of disco lights and obnoxiously loud electropop music. Yuna’s immediately pulled into a swarm of high-energy, half-manic creatives, feeling the condensation from a welcome drink pressed into her hand as she’s whisked into the hot centre of the moshpit.
Drifting across the living room, she tries her best to keep balance on both feet. In a neon haze, the construction of the loft begins to come into view.
It’s equipped with massive floor-to-ceiling windows and long beige curtains draping onto the carpeted wooden floor. Strangers laze atop room-length couches, flanked by decorative lamps and coffee tables littered with plastic cups and faux champagne glasses.
Yuna begins to gravitate toward the kitchen bar before she’s caught up in the sticky evening heat. She sucks in a deep breath before squeezing through the tight crowd, her head spinning from the poor combination of claustrophobia and her empty stomach after tonight’s show.
-
She’s pulled from her trance at the feeling of warm, muscular arms wrapped around her hips. Yuna whips around, face-to-face with some sleazy guy she vaguely remembered seeing backstage from the runway.
With the deafening stereo in the back, Yuna’s head begins to pound. She can barely make out what he’s saying. The dim lighting obscures his moving lips and forgettable features as she tries desperately to pull away.
“You new here? Haven’t seen you around.” He mumbles off-handedly, looking at Yuna with a darkened expression in his eyes.
Yuna scoffs, finally managing to detangle his sweaty arms from her body. She inches away, trying her best to make her intentions known as clearly as possible with her limited grasp of the language.
“I’m not interested in guys like you. Not tonight, I’m sorry.”
The boy only laughs, throwing his head back and edging closer toward her again.
“Come on! I knew they flew you in especially for tonight’s show. You can afford to let loose for one night, seriously.”
He gazes deeper into her eyes, brushing her chin with his stubby fingers. “We don’t get girls like you in the city often, either.”
Yuna really feels herself on the verge of losing it now, the bubbling frustration from losing her voice threatening to break the surface.
She fights the violent urge to rip her heels off and knock the guy right in the head when suddenly, a familiar blonde emerges from the crowd, pushing through the masses to tear the stubborn man off of her.
-
Yuna stares dumbly as Stella begins to fire off rapid strings of English, gripping the guy by his jaw as she spews indecipherable threats.
“Oh my god, you asshole! I knew I shouldn’t have invited you to the party tonight. Didn’t you just break up with your new girl a week ago? This is unbelievable, you seriously walk around this city like a fucking animal.”
He throws his hands up in mock surrender, desperately trying to calm Stella down as she continues to tear him apart.
“Come on, Stell, please. I didn’t know this was your friend. Can’t a guy have a bit of fun around here?”
Stella scoffs, rolling her eyes and almost jabbing her finger into his face. “Do you seriously hit on every girl you see? You really haven’t changed at all since high school. Get out of my house and forget about tomorrow’s show. I’m going to absolutely rip you online.”
Yuna feels Stella’s arm hooped around her as the guy struts away in defeat. She hasn’t even processed the situation by the time she’s yanked back into the crowd, Stella expertly pulling her through a mess of dancing bodies and entangled limbs as she lets herself be led freely.
She’s too stunned to speak, also muffled by the proximity of partygoers, until they finally escape into the safety of a sheltered corridor. The girls both burst out into giggles when they accidentally trip and tumble onto the plush carpet, their skin stained slightly pink from alcohol and the heat.
Yuna laughs as Stella stumbles while helping her up. They push themselves to sit cross-legged on the carpet, leaning their sore backs against the wall and catching their breath as Yuna turns to speak.
“Thank you so much for getting me out of there. Stella, I-I don’t think I could thank you enough.”
Stella giggles again, leaning herself onto Yuna’s side. “Girl, don’t worry about it. I should probably be apologising since I got you into this situation in the first place, after all.”
“I mean, I don’t know if you heard earlier, but I knew that guy from high school. It’s a small world out here, you know? You can always find yourself bumping into the same bad apples if you’re not careful enough.”
Yuna nods, she gets the same feeling in Seoul as well. She loves being near her friends and family, but she’ll always miss the freeing anonymity of getting away with anything in a new city. It’s one of the greatest perks of travelling alongside the job, when she manages to steal a little bit of freedom back from the agency.
Unfortunately, it usually wears off by the third day. She’s thought about it before, but maybe the small-town girl in her just can’t seem to let go of nostalgic familiarity.
The liquid courage in her spikes her curiosity to ask Stella more questions, unravelling the details of a life so far from everything she’s used to at home.
“So, I know it’s your place, but do you actually know all those people in there? Forgive me for asking, but it is a pretty insane after-party.”
Stella answers without missing a beat. “Nah, it’s fine. I do know quite a few from work, more from school and college, but believe it or not, I tend to keep a pretty small crowd around me. As you do in modelling, there are certain connections which I need to maintain within the industry.”
“Some people even call me a socialite, you know? Insane term by the way. The stuff they only blow up in the magazines. I mean, yes, I do throw the parties. But at the end of the day, I really want to do fashion, and I’m willing to do whatever it takes to make it big in this world.”
Yuna smiles, looking back at Stella with a newfound respect.
“I get you. I think I’m still the closest with my high school friends. Even after moving to Seoul for university, and work and stuff. It’s gotta be something about the people you can trust no matter what.”
Stella laughs, slinging her arm around Yuna as she shoots her a lazy smile.
“Wow, Yuna. I had a feeling, but you know what? I really like you.”
She stares up at Yuna, her flushed face finally coming into clear view. Stella talks animatedly, a glimmer of excitement hidden behind slightly bloodshot eyes.
“Do you know why I approached you in the first place? I mean, honest answer? You’re just really pretty! You’ve got an aura to you! Maybe it's part of the job, being a model and all. Stating the obvious, am I right?”
Stella reigns herself in, folding her arms and looking pensively at the hallway.
“But also, I don’t know why, but you really remind me of somebody I know. There’s a creeping feeling sitting in the back of my head that just can’t look past the resemblance.”
She giggles again, looking back towards Yuna and clutching her hand.
“It’s not déjà vu or anything, maybe I’m just feeling a bit nostalgic? But you know what, let me just get both of you to meet. Come on, I’ll introduce her to you.”
Yuna feels a teenage giddiness as she allows herself to be led through the loft again. Stella weaves herself into circles seamlessly, greeting guests, making conversation and radiating energy in a way that’s utterly magnetic.
Yuna can’t do much but nod and smile, though Stella’s flattering introduction helps her miraculously exchange a few contacts by the end of the night.
They’re lounging beside the bar, Yuna feeling significantly more inebriated, when Stella checks her phone and sighs.
“I’m so sorry, I’m trying to look for someone, but for some reason, we haven’t bumped into her yet.”
Yuna turns slowly in concern, “Maybe she’s done for the night? Do you think she’s gone home?”
Stella laughs, “No way, she’s my roommate actually. But she can usually stay up pretty late.”
“You know what? Let’s go and find her.”
-
Stella leads Yuna down a winding staircase to the basement of the loft. It’s still artfully decorated, but clearly a smaller, more intimate part of the apartment.
They stop in front of a closed wooden door next to a wall painting. Stella presses her ear against its thick frame, trying to peep through the door for any signs of light before gesturing for Yuna to come in.
Stella knocks twice. There’s no response. The hollow sound echoes through the hallway as she only sighs. She moves to stab her leg against the door, the loud bang acting as a sufficient warning before she twists the knob open.
Yuna tip-toes through the door carefully, suddenly sobering at the thought of entering somebody’s bedroom, when she hears an affectionate gasp from its corner.
“Oh my god! Are you asleep already? Heyyy…get up!”
Yuna watches as Stella fusses with a mess of dirty blonde hair splayed against the side of the bed. The girl lies crumpled on the ground, her head resting against the mattress as she slowly wakes to brush Stella’s grabby hands away.
They whisper in English, the girl groaning quietly as she huffs to get up. Stella pats herself off as she gets up and runs back over to Yuna excitedly.
“Well, not the best introduction, but anyway, here she is! Get ready to meet my favourite roommate, high school best friend, partner in crime, talented at everything, NYC piano prodigy, Hannah Yu!”
The girl pries her head off the mattress awkwardly as Yuna moves closer to introduce herself. Her face slowly comes into view, revealing shimmery eyes hidden behind messy hair and slightly smudged makeup.
Yuna focuses her gaze on the girl before she stumbles, her hands instinctively flying to cover her mouth as she feels her fingers begin to shake.
Her mind goes blank. The room is silent except for the hum of the thermostat in the back as she staggers backwards, gripping onto a wardrobe to steady herself while her knees fight the urge to cave in.
She's imagined this exact moment for years. Whether with the ruckus of subway tracks clattering away in the background, or in the dull silence of staring up at her bedroom ceiling at night.
She’d toyed with every intricacy in her mind, replaying each calculated step, from awkward chuckles to the hardened look she planned to wear in her eyes. It’s almost rehearsed how she’s controlled her irrational feelings, toward their roots far too intertwined.
Yuna feels as if she’s dreaming, trying not to rub her eyes at the sight of the familiar expression painted all over the girl’s face.
Everything’s different. She can’t name a single feature between them that hasn’t changed. Their old personas are wiped clean, as Yuna searches for any signs of recognition in her lingering gaze. She wants to hide, but the instinctive tug buried deep in her gut is undeniable.
“H-Haram?”
Yuna feels the words tumble out of her mouth before she can control herself, biting her cheek immediately to ground her panicking mind.
She helplessly watches as a flash of emotion dances across the girl’s eyes, before she pushes herself off the floor and runs away.