Chapter Text
The summer of 2031 was unusually hot. Or not that unusual. Global warming and all that.
The digital clock on the wall of the HYBE Los Angeles studio glared in stark red numbers: 10:45 PM. In exactly one hour and fifteen minutes, Katseye’s highly anticipated comeback album would hit streaming platforms worldwide. The year-long hiatus was officially over.
The green room was a symphony of organized chaos. Humberto, their creative director, was aggressively fluffing the oversized, custom-dyed faux fur jacket draped over Lara’s shoulders. Missy, their manager, was pacing with a clipboard, firing off rapid-fire reminders about what topics were embargoed for the livestream.
Amidst the hurricane of hairspray and nervous energy, Megan Skiendiel sat practically folded into Yoonchae’s side on the plush leather sofa.
Megan felt, for lack of a better word, absolutely disgusting.
Her stomach had been executing a slow, continuous somersault since Tuesday. At first, she blamed the Lexapro. Sometimes, if she took it on an empty stomach, it made her nauseous. Then, she blamed her notoriously terrible immune system. Between her psoriasis acting up—she was currently, unconsciously, scratching a dry patch on her elbow—and her forgetting to drink water for hours on end, her body was basically a poorly maintained engine.
"Mei, stop scratching," Yoonchae murmured softly, her hand reaching out to gently pull Megan’s fingers away from her elbow.
Yoonchae, at twenty-three, was the youngest, but she radiated a grounded, quiet confidence that consistently anchored Megan’s swirling anxieties. They had been dating for four years, a fact that had only exploded into the public eye a year ago. Despite the initial wave of conservative backlash from certain pockets of the internet, the overwhelming support from their fanbase had solidified them as Katseye’s most beloved open secret turned reality.
"I'm not scratching, I'm petting my own arm," Megan mumbled, leaning her head heavier against Yoonchae’s shoulder. She closed her eyes, fighting a sudden wave of dizziness. "I think the comeback anxiety is finally frying my brain circuits."
"It's not just anxiety," Yoonchae said, pressing the back of her cool hand against Megan’s forehead. "You've been lethargic for three days. Your immune system is probably waving a white flag again. Do you need a mint?"
"I need a new stomach," Megan groaned.
Across the room, Sophia clapped her hands loudly, her ADHD-fueled excitement bouncing off the walls. At twenty-eight, Sophia was the undisputed den mother of the group, though she often acted like the loudest teenager. "Girls! Fifteen minutes until we go live! Let's get our energy up! Leon texted and said the fans are already breaking the waiting room chat!"
"If you yell one more time, I'm going to mute your microphone myself," Dani shot back from the makeup chair, though she was grinning. Dani, at twenty-seven, had practically vibrated out of her skin for the last forty-eight hours. She and Megan were the group's dance powerhouses, and the year-long break—while filled with successful solo albums for both of them, plus Lara—had left them starved for group choreography.
"You can't mute the leader, Dani," Sophia retorted, sticking her tongue out. "It's illegal."
"It’s true, it’s in the Geneva Conventions," Manon chimed in from the corner. The twenty-nine-year-old visual of the group was scrolling through her phone, looking effortlessly magnetic in a simple oversized graphic tee and cargo pants. Manon had spent the hiatus traveling the globe, returning with a tan and an even more chaotic sense of humor.
"Alright, everybody to the set," Jules, the brand director, called out, poking her head through the door. She offered a warm, protective smile to the girls. "You all look amazing. Just keep it laid-back, like we discussed. Read comments, talk about the break, hype the stadium tour. We're keeping it casual."
The livestream set was designed to look like an obscenely cozy living room, complete with bean bag chairs, warm ambient lighting, and a massive couch.
The moment they settled in, Megan immediately gravitated back to Yoonchae, sliding right into her lap. Yoonchae didn't even blink, instinctively wrapping her arms around Megan’s waist and resting her chin on Megan’s shoulder. It was a comfortable, familiar position.
"And... we are live in three, two, one!" a tech crew member called out.
"Hello, Eyekons! We are Katseye!" The six of them chorused in perfect unison, a muscle memory ingrained over seven years of being a global phenomenon.
The tablet on the coffee table instantly became a blur of scrolling text. Millions of fans from all over the world were flooding the chat.
"Oh my god, the chat is moving too fast, my dyslexia is crying," Megan laughed, squinting at the screen from the safety of Yoonchae's embrace. "I saw... 'Sophia looks like a Disney princess' and... 'meichae serving domestic bliss.'"
Yoonchae chuckled, a low, soothing vibration against Megan’s back. "Hello, everyone. We missed you."
"We missed you guys so much!" Lara leaned forward, practically shouting into her handheld microphone. "It has been a year! Can you believe it? A whole year!"
"A year of us not annoying each other," Sophia joked, earning an immediate eye roll from Dani.
"Speak for yourself, you literally FaceTimed me every single day while I was trying to record my album," Dani countered.
"Because you need adult supervision, Daniela," Sophia fired back, immediately engaging in her favorite pastime: rage-baiting the members.
The live settled into a comfortable, chaotic rhythm. They talked about Sophia voicing a character in the new Disney animated film. They cheered for Yoonchae's critically acclaimed acting debut in a gritty indie drama. They celebrated Manon's travel vlog series, and hyped up the solo albums that Lara, Dani, and Megan had dropped over the past twelve months.
Megan tried to match the energy. She laughed at Lara's increasingly unhinged jokes, occasionally leaning over to high-five her best friend. Lara and Megan were a notoriously chaotic duo; they shared the same brain cell, the same out-of-work friend group, and an encyclopedic knowledge of each other’s deepest secrets. But today, every time Megan moved too fast, the studio lights seemed to streak in her vision, and a hot wave of nausea would roll up her throat.
Just power through, she told herself. Megan was a chronic over-worker. She had been in the entertainment industry in some capacity since she moved from Hawaii to LA at ten years old. Whether it was acting, modeling, her brief stint as a J-pop trainee, or the grueling years at Popstar Academy, her default setting was "grind." Management trusted her, and she was terrified of ever letting them—or the fans—down. If she felt sick, she compensated by working twice as hard.
"Are you okay?" Yoonchae whispered, her lips barely moving, right next to Megan's ear. Only Megan could hear it.
"Fine. Just tired," Megan whispered back, shifting her weight and burying her face momentarily in the crook of Yoonchae’s neck, breathing in her familiar, clean scent. The fans in the chat, of course, were taking thousands of screenshots of the cuddle session, completely unaware that Megan was using Yoonchae as a literal physical anchor to keep from sliding off the couch.
About thirty minutes into the live, the staff cued a surprise.
"Okay, guys!" Sophia announced, clapping her hands. "We have a special treat. Management said we can play exactly fifteen seconds of the title track!"
The chat exploded into a wall of emojis.
"Wait, wait, we have to dance to it!" Dani yelled, immediately jumping off the bean bag chair. "Come on, get up! Let's give them a spoiler!"
Lara and Manon were up instantly. Manon, despite usually being the quieter one, had a tendency to dive headfirst into chaos when provoked. They started doing a ridiculous, exaggerated version of the choreo.
Megan felt the familiar tug of FOMO. She was the all-rounder, the dancer. She couldn't just sit there while her sisters were goofing off to their new song. Ignoring the heavy, sloshing sensation in her stomach, Megan pushed herself off Yoonchae's lap and bounded into the center of the room.
"Make room for the main event!" Megan joked in a British accent, throwing her hair over her shoulder.
The heavy, infectious bass of their new track blasted through the studio monitors. Dani led the charge, hitting the intricate isolations flawlessly even while laughing. Megan jumped in right beside her, their sisterly synergy kicking in immediately. They mirrored each other, feeding off the energy.
"Yes, Meg! Hit it!" Sophia cheered from the couch, practically vibrating with pride.
The music reached the crescendo of the 15-second snippet. Megan, fueled by adrenaline, went for a sharp, multi-rotational spin that Sohey, their choreographer, had drilled into them for weeks.
She planted her foot, whipped her head, and executed the spin perfectly.
But as she stopped and spotted the camera, the room didn't stop spinning with her.
The studio lights smeared into long white lines. A sudden, violent rush of cold sweat broke out across her neck. Her stomach lurched so violently she actually tasted metal. Her knees buckled.
She didn't hit the floor.
Yoonchae, who had been watching her like a hawk from the couch, moved with terrifying speed. Before Megan could even register she was falling, Yoonchae's strong arms wrapped around her waist, catching her mid-collapse.
Instinctively, Megan’s arms flew around Yoonchae’s neck, her legs wrapping around Yoonchae’s waist like a koala. She buried her face directly into Yoonchae's collarbone, squeezing her eyes shut, fighting the urge to gag.
"Woah! Okay, gravity check!" Lara yelled, trying to play it off as a joke.
"Chae to the rescue!" Dani laughed, though her eyes darted toward Megan with a flash of sisterly concern.
Yoonchae didn't laugh. Her jaw tightened. Without a word, she adjusted her grip, effortlessly carrying the twenty-five-year-old woman back to the couch and sitting down, keeping Megan securely in her lap.
"She went a little too hard," Yoonchae said calmly into her microphone, her hand gently rubbing up and down Megan's spine.
The live chat was a blur of frantic capital letters:
OMG CHAE IS SO STRONG
THE KOALA HUG I'M CRYING
IS MEG OKAY??
MY MEICHAE HEART CANNOT TAKE THIS
"I'm good," Megan croaked into her mic, her voice sounding incredibly small. She didn't move her face from Yoonchae's neck. "Just... got dizzy. Too much spinning. Not enough oxygen."
"Our Mei always gives 110%," Sophia said smoothly, taking the reins of the broadcast to deflect the attention. "Even when she’s just had a cold for a few days! Guys, spam the chat with hearts for Megan's dedication!"
Behind the cameras, Missy frowned, making a quick note on her clipboard.
By 11:35 PM, Megan had managed to detach herself from Yoonchae slightly, sitting beside her but still leaning heavily on her shoulder. The nausea had settled into a dull, throbbing ache just beneath her ribs. She took a tiny sip of water from her HYBE-branded tumbler, praying the last twenty-five minutes would fly by.
"Alright, before we get to the final countdown," Sophia announced, her eyes twinkling. "We have another celebration tonight!"
From off-camera, Grant—their performance director—and Humberto walked onto the set carrying a massive, three-tiered cake adorned with sparklers.
"Happy Birthday to you!" the room erupted into song.
Manon covered her face with her hands, genuinely surprised, her shoulders shaking with laughter. "You guys! It's supposed to be about the album!"
"It's midnight! It's officially your twenty-firat birthday, Nonnie! For the 8th time!" Lara screamed, running over to hug her.
Manon, an openly laughing mess, blew out the sparklers as the crew clapped. "Thank you guys. Truly."
"Okay, cut the cake! What flavor is it?" Dani demanded, already grabbing a stack of paper plates.
"It’s coffee cake," Jules called out from behind the camera, smiling. "We made sure to get the group's favorite for the comeback."
Megan forced a smile, Coffee cake was her absolute weakness. Under normal circumstances, she would have eaten two slices by herself.
Dani aggressively sliced the cake, passing out forks and plates. Yoonchae took a plate and balanced it on her knee, offering her fork to Megan.
"Eat a little bit, Mei," Yoonchae encouraged softly. "You haven't eaten anything but a granola bar since this morning. The sugar might help the dizziness."
Megan nodded. That made sense. Maybe she was just lightheaded from low blood sugar. She took the fork from Yoonchae, scooped up a generous bite of the espresso-infused frosting and vanilla sponge, and put it in her mouth.
The reaction was instantaneous and apocalyptic.
Instead of the rich, comforting taste of sweet coffee, her tastebuds registered the flavor of rancid, expired milk mixed with battery acid. Her body violently rejected it before her brain could even process what was happening.
Megan froze. Her eyes went wide, panic setting in. We are live. There are three million people watching. Swallow it.
She tried to force it down. She gulped.
It was a fatal mistake. The moment the cake hit her esophagus, her stomach violently contracted, rebelling against everything. Megan clamped a hand over her mouth, her face turning an alarming shade of pale green.
"Meg?" Lara asked, noticing her best friend looking like a deer caught in headlights.
Megan didn't have time to speak. She didn't have time to run off set. Survival instincts took over. She spun around, ripping herself away from Yoonchae, and lunged toward the corner of the set just out of the main lighting rig, but very much still visible on the wide-angle camera.
She grabbed the small, black plastic trash can next to the side table, dropped to her knees, and violently vomited into it.
The sound of her retching echoed loudly through her lapel mic before anyone could cut the audio.
The set fell into absolute, stunned silence for about two seconds.
"Oh, shit!" Dani yelled, dropping her plate of cake.
"Oh my god, Mei!" Lara scrambled over the coffee table, her chaotic energy instantly snapping into pure panic.
Manon, standing by the cake, stared in shock, a piece of frosting on her lip. "She threw up the coffee cake? Is she broken?" Manon's coping mechanism for serious situations was always humor, and she couldn't help the nervous, breathy laugh that escaped her.
Yoonchae was already moving. Her calm demeanor vanished, replaced by an intense, laser-focused protectiveness. She reached Megan in a split second, immediately reaching to the back of Megan's waistband to unclip the wireless microphone pack, switching it off before pulling it free.
Megan was hunched over the bin, coughing, tears streaming down her face. She hated throwing up. She hated being sick. And she was doing it in front of millions of people. The humiliation was heavy enough to crush her.
"I've got you, I've got you," Yoonchae murmured, her voice steady and low. She grabbed her own microphone, stood up straight, and looked directly into the main camera.
"Guys, we need a moment. Mei is not feeling well," Yoonchae said with absolute authority.
Without waiting for Missy or Jules to give the okay, Yoonchae bent down, scooped Megan into her arms—bridal style this time—and walked right off the set.
Megan buried her face in Yoonchae’s chest, crying quietly, the lingering taste of stomach acid and coffee cake making her want to hurl again.
Back on the set, Sophia, true to her role as the leader, instantly snapped into damage control mode. She slid into the center of the couch, waving her hands.
"Okay, guys! Don't panic!" Sophia said, her voice loud and falsely cheerful, though her eyes kept darting off-camera to where Yoonchae had disappeared. "Like we said earlier, Megan has been fighting off a really nasty cold for the last few days. Her immune system is acting up, and I think the spinning just tipped her over the edge!"
"Yeah, plus she ate a whole bag of spicy chips before the live," Lara lied effortlessly, backing Sophia up.
"Honestly," Manon chimed in, leaning against the couch, "she was crazy to throw up that cake. This cake is amazing. More for me."
The chat was a chaotic mix of crying emojis, 'GET WELL SOON MEGAN' hashtags, and people laughing at Manon's utter lack of filter.
Meanwhike, Jules was already holding the door to a private green room open when Yoonchae carried Megan down the hallway.
"In here," Jules said quietly, ushering them inside and immediately handing Yoonchae a cold, damp towel and a bottle of water. "I'll keep everyone else out. Take your time. We have twenty minutes until midnight."
"Thank you," Yoonchae said, kicking the door shut behind them.
She gently set Megan down on the small couch in the corner. Megan immediately curled into a tight ball, pulling her knees to her chest, her face hidden in her hands. She was openly sobbing now, a mix of physical misery and crushing embarrassment.
"Hey," Yoonchae said softly, kneeling on the floor in front of her. She took the cold towel and gently pried Megan's hands away from her face, wiping the sweat from her forehead and the tears from her cheeks. "It's okay. Breathe, baby. It's okay."
"I ruined it," Megan choked out, a fresh wave of tears spilling over. "I threw up on our comeback live. On Manon's birthday. I'm so embarrassing. Management is going to kill me. Missy is going to yell—"
"Stop it. Missy isn't going to do anything," Yoonchae interrupted firmly, her thumb brushing away a tear. "You are sick. You can't control it. No one is mad at you. Fans are just worried."
"It tasted like garbage, Chae," Megan whispered, looking utterly baffled. "The cake tasted like literal garbage. And I haven't been able to keep anything down. I thought it was just my anxiety, but I'm not even anxious about the album anymore. I just feel... wrong."
Yoonchae sat back on her heels, her dark eyes studying Megan’s pale, exhausted face.
Yoonchae was intersex. She was born with XXY chromosomes. She identified as a woman, lived as a woman, and underwent hormone replacement therapy to maintain her estrogen levels, but she biologically had a penis. It was a secret heavily guarded from the public, known only to the girls, their immediate families, and the highest levels of HYBE management. Because of her biology and her HRT, Yoonchae had an incredibly low sperm count. Doctors had told her years ago that conceiving a child naturally was essentially a statistical impossibility.
Because of that, in the four years they had been together, Megan and Yoonchae had never once worried about contraception. It just wasn't a factor in their sex life. If they ever wanted kids, they had always casually agreed they would adopt or look into a sperm donor.
But looking at Megan now—the extreme fatigue, the sudden, violent aversion to a loved food, the inexplicable nausea that wasn't matching her usual anxiety patterns—a very small, very terrifying, and very impossible thought flickered in the back of Yoonchae's mind.
No. That's impossible, Yoonchae thought, shutting the idea down instantly. She's just run down. She overworks herself. Her psoriasis is flaring up, her immune system is crashing.
"You're just exhausted, Mei," Yoonchae said, though her voice was slightly quieter than before. She unscrewed the cap of the water bottle and held it to Megan's lips. "Rinse your mouth. Don't swallow it. Just spit it into the towel."
Megan obeyed, rinsing the awful taste from her mouth and taking a slow, shaky breath. "I want to go back out there."
"Absolutely not," Yoonchae said instantly. "You are staying right here."
"Chae, please." Megan grabbed Yoonchae's wrist, her stubborn streak flaring up despite her frailty. "It's the midnight drop. We've waited a year for this. The fans have waited a year. I am not missing the countdown because of a stupid stomach bug. I'm fine. I threw up, the nausea is gone now. I promise."
Yoonchae looked at her, seeing the fierce, unyielding loyalty in Megan's eyes. Megan loved her members. She loved her fans. She would crawl over broken glass if she thought it meant delivering a good performance.
Yoonchae sighed, knowing she couldn't win this argument when Megan got that specific look in her eyes. "Ten minutes. We wait here for ten minutes. If you still feel okay, we go back for the last five minutes of the live. If you feel even slightly sick, I am putting you in the car and driving you to our home myself."
Megan offered a weak, grateful smile. "Deal."
For the next ten minutes, they sat in the quiet room. Yoonchae moved from the floor to sit beside Megan, letting Megan lean against her once again. Yoonchae softly stroked Megan’s hair, kissing the top of her head.
"I'm sorry I'm such a mess," Megan mumbled into Yoonchae's shirt.
"You're my mess," Yoonchae replied simply.
At 11:53 PM, the green room door cracked open, and Missy peeked her head in. Her tough exterior was softened slightly as she looked at Megan.
"How are we doing, kid?" Missy asked.
"I'm good, Missy. I want to go back out for the countdown," Megan said, sitting up straighter.
Missy looked at Yoonchae for confirmation. Yoonchae gave a slow, reluctant nod.
"Alright. Let's get you mic'd back up. We're keeping you seated for the rest of the broadcast. No more spinning for you, Skiendiel."
When Megan and Yoonchae walked back onto the set, the collective sigh of relief from the other four girls was palpable. Lara practically threw herself across the couch to grab Megan's hand, while Dani offered an encouraging smile.
"Look who survived the coffee cake attack!" Manon cheered, clapping loudly.
Megan flushed deep red, hiding her face in her hands. "I am so, so sorry everyone. Especially to Manon on her birthday. I promise the cake was amazing, my stomach just absolutely hates me today."
"Don't even worry about it, Meg," Sophia said warmly, patting her knee. "We're just glad you're okay. The chat has literally just been spamming 'Protect Megan' for the last ten minutes."
Megan looked at the tablet. It was true. The chat was moving at the speed of light, filled with nothing but love, relief, and slightly unhinged demands for Yoonchae to get a medal for her reflexes.
"Three minutes!" the crew yelled.
The energy in the room shifted. The anxiety and the chaos melted away, replaced by the electric anticipation that only came with a comeback. They had worked so hard for this. The stadium tour was looming, the new music was entirely self-written, and they were finally back together as six.
Megan sat firmly wedged between Lara and Yoonchae, holding both of their hands tightly. Her stomach still felt tender, but the overwhelming nausea was gone, replaced by a buzzing adrenaline.
"One minute!"
"Oh my god, I'm getting butterflies," Lara squealed, squeezing Megan's hand hard.
"Everyone get ready to stream!" Dani yelled at the camera.
"Ten seconds!"
"Ten! Nine! Eight!" The girls shouted in unison, their voices blending perfectly.
Megan looked down at Yoonchae's hand intertwined with hers. She felt a profound sense of gratitude. Despite the sickness, despite the embarrassing moment, she was exactly where she belonged. With her sisters. With the love of her life.
"Three! Two! One!"
"HAPPY COMEBACK!" they all screamed, confetti cannons exploding off-camera, showering the set in gold and black paper.
The studio monitors switched from the live chat to the streaming platform dashboard, watching in real-time as the album went live and the numbers instantly began to skyrocket.
Megan felt the first tear slip down her cheek. True to form, she was always the first to cry at emotional moments.
"Aww, Mei is crying!" Sophia cooed, leaning over to squish Megan's cheeks.
"I'm not crying, I'm just allergic to confetti," Megan sobbed, laughing through her tears as Lara wrapped her in a massive hug from the side.
Yoonchae smiled, gently wiping away the tears with her thumb, pulling Megan close one last time as the live broadcast faded to black. The comeback was official. They were back.
But as Yoonchae looked at Megan's pale face in the aftermath of the celebration, that impossible, tiny thought crept back into her mind, louder this time.
What if she isn't just sick?