Chapter Text
It’s 7:54 AM when Ryujin steps out of the elevator and into the basement of JYP Entertainment. Baggy sweats, a tattered tee, and a pair of worn-out sneakers play the role of her wardrobe this morning. A well-loved canvas bag hangs over her right shoulder while an iced coffee in her hand jostles with every step.
When she arrives at the door to the practice room, she pushes it open with her shoulder. Instantly, she’s greeted with the sound of squeaking soles and blaring music. It doesn’t surprise her – they have a dance video scheduled for today, so to see someone already here is expected.
Yeji doesn’t notice as the door clicks shut behind her. Instead, her eyes are on the mirror, the mirror on her body, and her body on the dance floor. Ryujin knows what it’s like to lock into a performance like this. Focus and intent, working in tandem, to make their moves seem second nature – that to make things look so easy, they have to work so hard beforehand.
Letting the bag fall past her shoulder and land on the floor beside her, she lets herself take on the role of spectator as Yeji moves in front of her. The motions, as always, are impeccable, but Ryujin’s more focused on the clothes the other girl has chosen to cover herself with today. She doesn’t know if Yeji does it on purpose – afraid that if she brings it up, she’d spoil the magic – but she’s noticed their leader’s tendency to wear clothes that mean something to her on days like this.
The white logo on the black baseball cap atop Yeji’s head catches her attention first – a souvenir from their first trip to New York. Trailing down the orange locks spilling out from beneath the brim, Ryujin recognizes the hoodie that barely covers Yeji’s torso – an artifact from their days as trainees. Below that are a pair of sweats matching her own, save for the color – they were out shopping and Yeji had thought it’d be cute if the both of them had the same pair. And finally, scuttering along the waxed floor, a pair of sneakers even more run-down than hers.
It reminds her of how far Yeji has come.
How far the both of them have.
It’s 8 years earlier and they’re in the same spot they are now – a hopeless Ryujin staring at a clueless Yeji from the safety of a doorway. She remembers the night her anxious fingers typed out dozens of introduction texts before finally settling on an awkward, if not precocious, inquiry about her age. She remembers the day after, how one moment she was looking at Yeji and the next she had her arms wrapped around her.
Ryujin remembers her name falling from Yeji’s mouth.
She remembers how she started falling for her a moment later.
And then, in real time, she watches Yeji fall right in front of her.
It happens fast – Yeji’s foot hits the floor at a weird angle, sending her body careening down to the rigid surface below – all of it culminating in a loud thud and a sharp groan.
“Yeji!”
Ryujin doesn’t remember running – she just knows that one second she’s standing at the doorway and the next she’s kneeling on the ground.
“Are you okay? Are you hurt?” She’s frantic. Words, eyes, and hands launch an uncoordinated assault to figure out what had happened.
“I’m alright.” Yeji grimaces as she sits up. Her hand goes to rub her hip, the part of her that hit the floor first and hardest. There’s a moment when she’s massaging her side, as if she doesn’t believe the words she had uttered, but then she continues on. “Don’t worry, I was–” Her teeth clench and her mouth hisses as Ryujin’s hands reach for the traitorous foot.
Eyes widening and the grip around Yeji’s foot loosening, Ryujin does her best to keep it propped up without letting it fall. “Is it your foot? Your ankle? Is it twisted?” She brings her face closer to inspect for any possible bruising or swelling.
“No.” Yeji shakes her head in response, though a frown is displayed prominently on her face. “But your hand is really cold and wet.”
Oh.
Ryujin stops what she’s doing to look down at the two hands cradling Yeji’s foot. Then, she looks back to the iced coffee on the counter that she’s thankful she didn’t drop before rushing over
Oh.
“Do you think you could help me up now?”
The words snap her attention back to what’s going on – Yeji lying not-so-helplessly on the ground in front of her.
“Oh! Are you sure you’re okay?” She removes her clammy hand from Yeji’s foot and Ryujin can see the discomfort disappear before her very eyes. “I can probably find someone to help or–”
Yeji silences her by placing a hand on hers – the dry one– and squeezing. “Hey, there’s nothing to worry about.” She smiles an honest smile. “I wasn’t being careful. That’s it.” She chuckles warmly. “I mean, that’s why we practice – so stuff like this doesn’t happen.”
Ryuin doesn’t answer immediately. Her heart is pounding and telling her to keep pushing the subject, that this cursory examination isn’t enough and that Yeji needs a CT, MRI, or maybe even JYP.
But that same heart is having its strings tugged on by the way Yeji looks at her and holds her. The small scrunch beside her eyes when she smiles brings Ryujin home and the pad of Yeji’s thumb rubbing a familiar spot on the back of her hand makes her feel like it.
It’s that part of her that ultimately wins out.
Ryujin sighs and looks down at the hand on top of hers. Yeji’s is bigger and she likes how they fit against each other. “Okay,” she says with a nod. Flipping her hand upside down so she can weave their fingers together, Ryujin gives her a squeeze in return. “I believe you.”
Yeji’s smile widens and her eyes scrunch just a little bit more.
That makes it worth it.
Slowly, Ryuin rises up from the floor and delicately pulls Yeji up along with her. The moment they’re both on their feet, she pulls Yeji forward until their waists are kissing. The hand that was enveloping the other girl’s tugs it back until it’s resting on Ryujin’s hip, while her other hand snakes around Yeji’s midsection to keep them close. It occurs without conscious intent, the memories in her muscles too loud to say otherwise.
This gives Ryujin another moment with her, one where they exchange the panic of seconds earlier for quiet breaths and longing looks.
Her eyes stay as scrupulous as they were previously. However, instead of looking for the odd scuff or scrape that might have possibly marred Yeji’s face, she’s simply taking a tour on the familiar stretch of skin she’s traveled a thousand times before.
Yeji’s own gaze is nowhere near as sturdy, her eyes flitting away due to the intensity of Ryujin’s stare. Her cheeks redden at a particularly embarrassing instance – when Ryujin lingers on the mole near her jaw and she parts her mouth to wet her lips.
“You can stop that now, I didn’t land on my face or anything,” Yeji says, breaking the silence. “I think I’m fine.”
Ryujin looks up from Yeji’s mouth to her eyes and she smirks. “I’d say you look a lot better than fine.” Throwing in an eyebrow-raise as well, she decides to double down on the entendre.
The rouge on Yeji’s cheeks deepens, accented by an exaggerated roll of her eyes. She pulls back from Ryujin, only to lean back in and bunt their foreheads against one another’s.
“Is that why you came here so early?” Yeji giggles. “To flirt with your unnie?”
The sound of Yeji’s laughter makes Ryujin smile and she loves how she can feel her body vibrate when she laughs. “If I wanted to do that,” she said with her own chuckle, “then I would’ve given myself more than 5 minutes, unnie.”
“What do you mean? It’s only–” Yeji turns her head to look at the clock on the wall and Ryujin can feel the air between them grow a bit heavier. “Oh wow…” Her smile falters. “I must have lost track of time.” She turns back to Ryujin and tries to lighten the mood with another laugh, but all that does is make Ryujin suspicious.
“Yeji.” Ryujin pulls back, her hands still on the other as if desperate to cling onto the levity still in-between them. “How long have you been here?”
The accusation is hard to hide, so Ryujin doesn’t even try. She knows that there’s no one more demanding of Yeji than Yeji herself, that sometimes what she thinks is best for the group comes at the cost of overworking herself and ignoring her own needs.
And Ryujin? She hates that as much as she loves her.
“Not that long.” There’s no conviction in her voice. Yeji’s a terrible liar – so she never lies – but that just makes it all the more obvious when she’s trying not to tell the truth. “You know it’s a big day today.” Yeji goes to take both of Ryujin’s hands in her own, as if this is some kind of desperate plea or admission. “What’s wrong with making sure I had–”
The distinct growl of Yeji’s stomach fills in the rest of her sentence. It says that she’s been here since before the sun had risen. It gives away that time better spent on breakfast was spent on perfecting choreo instead. But most importantly, it tells Ryujin that the stumble from earlier wasn’t due to a freak accident or uneven floor, but carelessness.
No, not carelessness. That would bely all the hard work Yeji’s done to drill into them how important a good night’s sleep and healthy breakfast was. This was negligence – through and through.
A sigh tumbles out of Ryujin. She’s not surprised, but if she forgives her, as she always has, then Yeji will just keep on running herself ragged whenever there’s a deadline on the horizon and Ryujin is not okay with that. Even now, with Yeji looking at her with the slightest lilt in her eyes and the tiniest pucker on her lips, she can feel her resolve crumbling. But before she can look into those eyes and tell Yeji that she does forgive her and that everything is going to be alright, the door swings open and reality comes flooding in.
“Morning everyone!!” Yuna bursts through the door, bright and brash and bold.
Ryujin spares the girl only a quick glance before looking back to Yeji. There was a time when the two of them would’ve flown apart the moment the door opened, but their friends have come as far as they have when it comes to the terms of their relationship.
But this time Yeji does pull away. She takes the first chance she can to get out of the conversation she was just in and Ryujin can do nothing to stop it. She can almost hear the switch inside Yeji’s head flip from “her Yeji’ to “ITZY’s Yeji” before she’s left alone on the sideline.
“Good morning, Yuna.” Yeji approaches the youngest with a practiced smile and instantly launches into a new topic about the cute shoes adorning Yuna’s feet. It’s an amazingly basic ploy that does everything Yeji needs it to do.
Still standing where she was, Ryujin’s eyes have not left Yeji once. The absence that she’s been left with starts to fill the void in her hands and frustration begins to pool in her stomach. She can feel it hardening like concrete and decides to move before it can fully set.
Yeji and Yuna don’t even notice her until she’s already at the door.
“Ryujin?” The concern in Yeji’s voice is loud enough that she doesn’t need to turn around to confirm it on her face.
“I’m going to the bathroom.” As she reaches for the door knob, she considers ending the sentence there – leaving without even a look back to really drive in her point. But she can’t – that’s a pettiness neither Yeji deserves nor Ryujin is cold enough to deliver. Cocking her head back instead, her lips manage to curve just enough to hint at a smile. “I’ll be right back.”
Yeji looks at her for a moment before nodding. “Don’t take too long.”
Ryujin knows what those four words mean – that she’s telling her to be safe, that she’s saying she’s sorry, and that everything she does, she does for them. Still, knowing that doesn’t make it any easier when Ryujin walks out of the room.
The door closes shut behind her as she steps back into the hallway she was just in minutes ago. She looks left towards the bathroom and considers actually going there. The thought of splashing some water on her face is attractive – it would at least make her face wet and that would mean she’d feel different than how she feels at the moment. But the possibility that Yeji might come in after her is too high, so instead, she takes the right towards the elevators.
It’s a good idea, or so she thinks. The walk there and back is longer and maybe the extra distance will allow her more time to clear her head.
She’s wrong.
The further her feet take her away from Yeji, the closer her memories pull her back. With every step she takes, there’s not an inch of hallway that goes by that doesn’t remind Ryujin of her. From their framed albums on the wall to the potted plants they used to dash behind in poor attempts to find privacy, Yeji has become as much a part of JYP as she has Ryujin
After coming around the next corner, Ryujin finds herself met with a familiar face. There, loitering in front of the vending machine, is Chaeryeong – eyes glued to the glass and a clutch gripped tight in her hands. It’s a sight that eases the knots in her shoulders and lightens the lead in her feet.
“Lose something in there?” Ryujin asks as she sidles up beside her.
“Just getting a snack for later.”
“You’re aware that practice has already started?”
“I know. That’s why I’m only getting one.”
It’s enough to make Ryujin exhale through her nose, the slightest puff of her chest accompanying it. After taking a look around – and seeing no one coming down the hall nor down the elevator – she decides to stay. Chaeryeong’s presence should prove better than the nostalgia that had kept her company up until this moment.
Settling in beside her, Ryujin looks past the reflection of the two of them in the glass. Even after all this time, she’s amazed by the generous assortment of snacks JYP has and continues to provide them. She recalls how sparse the selection was back at their old training center and that just leads to Ryujin thinking about Yeji again.
The first thing that’s brought to mind is all those late night practices that ended up with them scrounging for dinner from the vending machines – Ryujin because she loved snacks and Yeji because it would help tide her over on the train ride home. While she was fine with most anything as long as it wasn’t too sweet, Yeji had a more discerning taste. She couldn’t afford not to, knowing that she’d have to sit with her decision for two hours before having access to a hot, homemade meal.
Ryujin remembers how fast she’d scarf down the gummy ones and how they’d always get stuck in her teeth as she watched Yeji’s face in the glass – that same, stickling eye for detail being put to another use. The best part was when Yeji would catch her staring and the way she would stare back, as if she had finally found what she was looking for.
But now it’s not Yeji’s reflection staring back at her. It’s Chaeryeong’s.
“Do you have something to say, Ryeongchae?” Ryujin raises an eyebrow at the sudden attention, her lips pressing together until they’re thin.
Chaeryeong turns to her and leans in, taking up the space between Ryujin and the window. “Did something happen?” Straight and to the point – she never expects anything different from her.
Ryujin crosses her arms against her chest. “I don’t know what you mean,” she scoffs, already going on the defensive. She doesn’t mean to, but she doesn’t stop it when she notices it happening.
“So something did happen.”
“Listen, I–”
“What did you do this time?”
Chaeryeong’s audacity.
“I didn’t do anything!”
Ryujin’s indignation.
“Why do you always think it’s me?”
But Chaeryeong doesn’t flinch, she just looks at – no, judges at her – Ryujin’s words echoing down the corridors and back toward the practice room behind them. Her gaze is different from Yeji’s – while the older’s eyes are unwavering in their patience and understanding, there’s a certain sense of surety in Chaeryeong’s that makes it seem like she already knows what has happened and is just waiting for confirmation.
Ryujin flicks her eyes away from Chaeryeong’s immovable gaze before running a hand through her hair. She now thinks that she’s made the wrong decision and that maybe it was the right move to go to the bathroom and deal with the consequences of that.
“I was watching Yeji dance earlier and she fell, so I–”
“She fell?” In less than an instant, Chaeryeong’s condemnation turns into concern at the idea of one of them being hurt. “Is she okay?”
“Yeah, she is.” Ryujin nods before sucking in her bottom lip to chew with her teeth.
“But…”
“You know that thing she does when she ‘forgets’ to eat or sleep because there’s something more important?” Ryujin sighs. “I mean, I get why she does it– we have that shoot later, but I just wish she’d take better care of herself, y’know?”
She looks at Chaeryeong who’s looking back at her. Ryujin can see the gears turning in her head as she recollects every other previous offense – every instance of Yeji putting everyone else first, every time she turned a grimace into a grin when she caught them looking.
As the silence grows between them, Ryujin hopes the response comes sooner rather than later. Chaeryeong’s eyes are narrowed into thin, focused beams of retrospection and it’s making Ryujin feel like a package of ramyeon being scanned by a grocery store clerk.
“Okay,” Chaeryeong finally says. “I think I’m gonna get the chocolate almonds.”
Wide-eyed and wordless, Ryujin watches as Chaeryeong slips effortlessly out of their conversation. With nothing else to say or add, she simply pops open her purse to take out the money for the aforementioned almonds.
“Is that it?” Ryujin asks, incredulous.
“Aren’t we getting lunch later? I don’t want to fill up on–”
“Not the nuts! About Yeji!” Ryujin throws her hands up in the air. “Don’t you care about her?”
“Of course I do.” Chaeryeong takes the bill she pulled out of her bag and starts to slide it across the side of the vending machine to smooth it out. “I just think it’s funny,” she starts, her tone growing sharper like the money she’s flattening, “how you never have any concerns about me even though I skip breakfast everyday.”
“Well, you always–”
“And I don’t think I’ve ever heard you once get on Yuna’s case whenever she stays up late playing games.”
“That’s not–”
“And do I need to remind you about our last comeback?” Chaeryeong stills her hands, her head now tilted towards Ryujin. “How we were a week into practice before we found out about your sprained wrist?”
Ryujin doesn’t respond at first.
She doesn’t admit it out loud.
But Chaeryeong, as usual, is right.
Aside from a curious glance whenever they bring up their morning routines, she stays out of whatever Chaeryeong decides to put (or not put) into her body. Not only that, but the few times she has confronted Yuna about her late-night gaming sessions is whenever she gets too rowdy and Ryujin can hear her from the room over.
And as for her own injury? She can only imagine that the face she has on now is a mirror-image of Yeji’s when Ryujin confronted her earlier. After all, the intent was the same – to make sure that they wouldn’t be the one holding everyone else back. It just so happened that both involved acts of self-sacrifice.
Ryujin’s bobbing her head in time with the thrum of the machines beside them, slowly working her way up until she can look Chaeryeong straight in the eyes again.
“Are you done?”
Chaeryeong takes a moment, her lips pursed as she ponders the question before shaking her head.
“No, but you can go.”
“Okay.” Ryujin takes a breath, priming her for the deeper one she takes right after. “I know that all of us aren’t exactly on good terms with our work-life balance–” Chaeryeong nods furiously. “–but it’s different with Yeji. She’s…”
It’s a struggle to find the right words to convey the right message. Ryujin loves her, and everyone knows it at this point, but love is irrational and Ryujin wants to find the reason in this worry. She wants to be able to grasp something solid to pick up and show to Chaeryeong, something that holds more weight than just this silly sense of overprotectiveness.
As if sensing her hesitancy, Chaeryeong reaches over to offer her a comforting squeeze of the arm. “You’re worried about her, I get it. We all worry about her.” The pressure of the hand on her arm turns into a soothing caress. “And I’m not saying you shouldn’t be concerned, but have you thought maybe there’s a different way to do it instead of just admonishing her all the time?”
And just like that, Ryujin is pulled out of whatever sincere moment they were sharing, shell-shocked by the sudden, uncharacteristic vocabulary word that Chaeryeong had dropped onto her head.
“Admonishing?” Ryujin blinks.
Chaeryeong responds with a shrug as she turns back towards the machine and slides in the bill. “Lia’s been sending me the word of the day.”
“Really?”
“Yeah. She says I could stand to be more magniloquent.”
Finding it easier to focus on the sounds around them than the words coming out of Chaeryeong’s mouth, Ryujin zeroes in on the beeps of the buttons before her. The rumble and whir of the machine is soothing and the spin of the metal coil is almost hypnotic. She watches as the box of almonds gets pushed out further and further before falling past the ledge and landing at the bottom with a satisfying ka-thunk.
“Did you want anything?” Chaeryeong bends down and reaches past the flap of the machine to pull out the box. “I still have some change left.”
Her first instinct is to shake her head, not feeling particularly peckish at the moment, but who was she to turn down an opportunity like this. So, she looks back at the machine and Ryujin does her best to not look past it – past the glass, past the snacks, all the way into her past with Yeji.
The task proves difficult as she jumps from candy to cookie to random other confectionery – there’s not a single thing in there that doesn’t remind her of the girl she left back in the practice room. She almost gets lost in her memories again until she finds it.
Ryujin didn’t even know she was looking for it until she found it.
“That one.” Her hand goes to the second row, third from the right. Her fingernail clacks against the glass, staying there until Chaeryeong inputs the code and the machine spits out the selfsame snack.
Ryujin bends down to pull the bag out from the mouth of the machine. There’s a certain reverence to the way she picks it up and holds it, doing her best to preserve the already questionable integrity of its contents. A smile sneaks its way onto her face, the crinkles of the bag as wide as the ones beneath her eyes.
A simple, unremarkable bag of ketchup-flavored corn chips.
Yeji’s favorites.