Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Summer 2014

"Okay, let me just ask this once, and then I’ll leave you alone: Are you flirting to make this amazing weekend even more amazing, or are your eyes turning heart-shaped? Because I know you only met them like 36 hours ago, but I’ve seen what these guys can do. Sometimes it takes a lot less for girls to fall hard. And while I get it…because they can be charming…I’ve also seen them be fucking idiots. Assholes, even."

I could tell by her tone that Cheungha had rehearsed this in her head. All morning, I’d noticed her trying to catch my eye and I’d done my best to ignore it. With a sigh, I sat down and laughed a little, resting my face in my hands.

"Look, I’m not going to pretend this means anything beyond summer weather and a cute guy being really obvious about flirting with me. He’s nice, but I know he’s also…"

"A spoiled brat."

Okay, that wouldn’t have been my first choice of words, but Cheungha had known Jiyong and his friends for years.

"Well... sure. Anyways..."

I moved to sit next to her, wrapping an arm around her shoulder.

"If I promise to keep that in mind, do you mind if I lowkey flirt with your friend, or is there more?"
She seemed to think for a second, then shrugged, a small smile tugging at her lips.
"No, that’s all. I’ve warned you. He’s going to make you fall for him and then break your heart, but... I guess that’ll give you a good reason to leave me and Seoul behind and go back to your hometown again..."

"You forgot the name of the town again, didn’t you?"

She had. By the end, we were both laughing and pouring another glass of wine before leaving the guest bedroom we’d been offered.

It was Sunday afternoon, and looking back, those might have been the best couple of days I’d had since arriving in Korea.

It was 2014. I’d just finished my studies and felt kind of lost. And by "kind of" I mean I’d taken the first job my mediocre Korean - thanks, Mum! - could get me back when that still counted for something. I knew it wouldn’t be glamorous, even if it was in the entertainment industry, but god, I’d been so unprepared. The long hours, the sharp tone, the constant need to know who to show respect to first... it was exciting, but exhausting. So when Cheungha, two years older and already technically my superior (meaning one mini step above the absolute bottom I was on), asked if I wanted to join her and her friends for a long weekend away, I didn’t think twice. I handed in my first vacation request in six months without hesitation.

Overall, she’d made my start in Korea a hundred times better. She helped me with the paperwork, the housing mess after my first apartment turned out to be a scam, and just... everything. She’d been the friend I needed, even if I probably didn’t deserve her.

Anyway. That weekend away with her friends ended up being nothing like what I’d expected. Back home, that usually meant a sketchy motel, or if you were lucky, someone’s parents had a place. But no. We got picked up by a private driver at a train station half an hour outside Seoul and arrived at a holiday house overlooking a lake. For a second, I genuinely wondered if I was walking into my own murder mystery, but it didn’t take long to figure it out.

Cheungha’s friends were filthy rich. And some of them? Famous.

Look, at the time, I knew a few bands. I’d even heard of Big Bang before moving to Korea. But I hadn’t grown up with idol culture. My mom thought they were silly, and since getting here, I’d mostly been working - and drinking just enough to forget how much I was working.

I decided to count my blessings and enjoy that damn hot tub on the porch while I could. These people turned out to be mostly nice. There was a lot of very fast Korean I didn’t understand fully and probably even more in-jokes. But things warmed up quickly after we’d had quite a few welcome shots and there was an impromptu dance party on the deck. I didn’t know the songs or the words, but the alcohol made me not care. I stopped caring that apparently, these were “T.O.P. and G-Dragon from Big Bang, but don’t call them that, that’s weird” and this was “blah blah from blah blah.” and... yeah. Lots of names, can’t recall. Influence, money, uffff. They had no idea who I was of course. I was introduced as Cheungha’s friend and only appeared on their radar, I think, when they realized how odd my accent was. Maybe I enjoyed that they thought it was kinda cute. Maybe, as the night progressed, I got bold enough to tell jokes in half-Korean, half-English, knowing they were only funny because of that. Maybe I liked the way “not G-Dragon" Jiyong, smiled at me when I tried to pretend I wasn’t as wasted as I was.

The next morning, I woke up with a headache from hell and the creeping suspicion that I’d made a fool of myself. But turned out… everyone had. So no one had. And that felt nice.

The day started slowly, with hungover people spread out across the house and down by the lake. I think that’s when the flirting began. Subtle at first. And in a way, it stayed subtle. But not hidden. Seunghyun had at one point rolled his eyes before heading for a nap, while I lay next to Jiyong under a tree and learned, for the first time, how fucking disarming his laugh could be. I’m not even sure he was saying much with his words, but there always seemed to be a hint of a smirk in the corners of his lips.

And as the day went on, he didn’t bother hiding that he was looking at me from across the room anymore. So it was only a matter of hours before Cheungha noticed.

Honestly? Knowing a handsome pop star fancies you a bit is very flattering. What can I say? It helps if he’s oddly charming. But even without my friend’s words, I already knew what this was... which was nothing. And yet…

By the time Sunday rolled around, and right after we’d had that little woman-to-woman talk in the room, I found the others back under that tree by the lake. Jiyong stretched out one arm to pat the grass beside him when he saw us, as if, in the matter of mere hours, that had become my spot. Next to him. It felt wrong and right at the same time. I looked at Cheungha almost apologetically before climbing over other people’s limbs to get to him.

To my surprise, he didn’t take his arm away. It ended up under my head, and he gave me a cheeky smile, nose all crinkled, his skin warm and smelling like early summer.

“Parley over?” he asked, and I nodded slowly.

“Yes. We decided not to rob you blind - for now.”

Well, whatever answer he had expected... it wasn’t that. He raised an eyebrow in amusement, then leaned his head back, looking up at the tree.

“Lucky me.” he said after a while. I closed my eyes, took a deep breath, and felt very much content with where I was at that moment. A couple of seconds passed before I heard him repeat it.

“Lucky me.”

A bit closer this time.

I didn’t need to open my eyes to know he was looking at me again. Not able to hide my smile, I gave myself away, grinning widely. A little chuckle next to me.
Man, life was sweet right there for a bit. Forgotten was the busy work schedule I’d be going back to on Tuesday. Forgotten was that weird smell in the hallway of my apartment building. Forgotten was the constant wondering if I had made the right choice in coming to Korea…

Right then and there, I felt like my first summer in Seoul would be glorious.

And just like the monsoon season eventually kicks in in late June… I was about to be hit by reality, hard.

December 2024

I’m so tired. The last couple of months have worn me out, but somehow, they’ve also been incredibly rewarding. Everything we’d worked on for so long has finally come together - and with real success. There were moments in October and November where I felt so relieved I laughed and cried at the same time.

So much prep. Then Power came out. Then Home Sweet Home. The MAMAs (what a ride), interviews, performances, and more performances, and even more after that. And now, finally, it’s almost the end of the year. We get to breathe. A little, at least.

In the background, people are still deep in album release prep. There’s a TV show in production, a world tour on the horizon, the. light. stick. is happening.
Right now, I’m holding a prototype of the plastic daisy in my hand. I watch the colors shift through the rainbow and feel a bit in awe. It looks better than I imagined. I’d been worried the little plant pot base would look too gimmicky. And in a way, it kind of does… but it also works. It works with the flower, with this whole concept, with GD himself. Somehow, it’s all really coming together.

When I first joined this team, I didn’t know how to feel about working with someone I once knew. And when the behind-the-scenes Instagram account @8lo8lo8lowme got tossed my way a couple of weeks back, I felt even more out of my depth. I wouldn’t exactly call the last ten years of my work life in Korea a career, but things had improved, slowly, through a lot of hard work. Still, social media management hadn’t been on my personal bingo sheet when I took this job. But it was exciting and someone must have been happy with what I did when I took over before when people were sick or somewhere else, so I said yes. I told myself I’d leave if things got weird. And things did get weird. Pretty quickly, too. But not in a bad way.

The first time Jiyong ran into me at a meeting, both his eyebrows hit his forehead. He was genuinely surprised. We hadn’t seen each other since early 2020 at that point, so yeah… it had been a while. But if he minded, he never said anything. So I kept doing my job, and eventually, things felt normal. As normal as they can when you’re helping bring one of the biggest names in K-pop back from a years-long absence.

It’s December 27th. Most of the world is still floating in their Christmas bubble, but for us - fresh off the SBS Gayo performance - it’s the final stretch before a much-needed break. I’m just ticking off the last few items on my to-do list before heading home.

“It’s still not completely perfect. The handle isn’t comfortable yet.” the product developer tells me as I hold the light stick. I give it a wave, like I’m at a concert, and try to imagine doing this for two hours straight. Honestly, I don’t think any handle in the world could make that comfortable, but I trust he’ll figure something out.
Just then, the door opens and a manager steps in, followed by someone with a massive winter hat on. Someone I recognize as Ji, a second too late. They both pause, caught mid-step by my little solo performance. Then they smirk. I lower the daisy, blushing a little. Perfect timing.

The manager grabs something from a nearby table, wishes us all a nice break and heads out. Jiyong follows. But just as he’s about to walk out, he glances back at the light stick still in my hand, then me.

“Lucky me..” he says in English, then turns and leaves.

I blink. Once. Twice. My head fills with memories from a decade ago. Summer. The lake. His arm under my head. Lucky me. I can almost smell warm skin and sunshine again.

Can it be a coincidence? My eyes stay on the door long after it closes. Maybe he remembers. I always wondered. Wait, why is he lucky this time?

“It doesn’t matter.” I tell myself. After all, I’m sort of working for him now. And I’m a proper, actual grown-up. Whatever happened that sunny weekend was soon followed by the mess of that very Sunday night. I set the light stick down.

Some memories aren’t meant to be visited too often.

Chapter Text

January 2025

Christmas break was deliciously slow. I stayed in Seoul. I usually tried to make it back to see family every two years or so, and sometimes they would visit instead, especially now that Grandma was getting older. But this year, she was the one who went abroad to see my mother and so… I was alone in Seoul for the holidays. And by god, I enjoyed it so much. Probably because only once the tension wore off did I realize how hard I had been working the last couple of months - and how much work was still ahead of me.

Once or twice, I caught myself checking emails that first day off, but then it got better. I deep-cleaned the apartment, read a book for the first time in what felt like ages and had a New Year’s dinner with a couple of friends. Jiyong texted me the next morning, but honestly, it read like something he might have copy-pasted to the whole team, so I just replied briefly, wished him all the best, and left it at that.

I didn’t think about it much while I enjoyed the time away, before work picked up again ten days later. And it picked up fast.
At the end of the month, Ji was set to perform in Paris - his first big, big live performance since the MAMAs exactly two months ago, and a month before the album drop. It would be with Taeyang and I was confident it would be a full success. His performances never really worried me. If things got stressful at my job, it was mostly because there were so many moving parts, so much to plan, coordinate and double-check.

So much, in fact, that I almost forgot about the Instagram account.
I am at the first meeting back and suddenly realize I should get some shots just in case.
We had scheduled some content for the break, but now it was back on me to keep it running. And people just liked content that felt like it was happening in real time - understandably.
Everyone is chatting because, to no one’s surprise, our superstar was late. And not just a little late. Full-on, unapologetically late.
It is fine, though. We all have emails to write and coffees to finish.

When he finally shows up, he is in full social protection mode: mask, sunglasses and a wooly hat. Even though I don’t always fully understand what he’s feeling when he needs that kind of shielding, I sort of get it by now. Usually, it’s not too bad around people he knows, but who knows what he’s been up to the last couple of weeks - maybe he needs to warm up again.
Which doesn’t mean he isn’t charming. When he sees me standing at the back of the room filming, he points a finger at my phone and runs toward me. Well, no, not me, obviously - the camera. Let’s be clear. Still, maybe I also need a little time to adjust, because for a second I seriously forget that what I’m seeing on my screen isn’t meant for me.
The cute attempt at a wink (unsuccessful, but he’s getting better), the dramatic removal of his hat followed by a hair ruffle, like he’s embarrassed his aegyo got away from him, and the little giggle when he walks off. Be still my beating heart.

Later, at the meeting, we talk about incorporating more old images into the campaign. People had loved the childhood pictures used during the MAMA performance. So I pick up a hard drive on the way out - it contains all the images from Ji’s career, neatly arranged by year and tag. I figure I should try to stick to the theme and sprinkle in a few of the older photos when I present the next couple of posts.

I sit down in the hallway with my laptop while everyone else lingers in the meeting room. I don’t know how long they’ll be and I don’t feel like hovering. The number of images is so overwhelming it freezes me for a second. I’m trying to figure out where to even start when my mouse hovers over the folder marked 2014. Hmm.
In the end, I don’t know why I click it. Why I’m looking. But back then, the private and public sides of things often blurred - long before social media became what it is today. And I almost shriek when I come across what looks like pictures from that holiday house after a bit of scrolling.

Someone must have brought a Polaroid. I don’t remember any of it, which isn’t surprising considering how much I drank. Or how much time has passed.
The pictures aren’t high quality, but they have that lovely deep saturation and somehow smell of sunscreen.
People by the lake, people laughing at a campfire.
And then... people lying under a tree in the shade. Me, next to him, eyes closed. Ji looking at me with a smile.
Wow.

I can’t help but study every detail. I remember that moment vividly, but seeing our younger selves hits different. His hair was long and black back then, undercut showing - he looked like a completely different person. So young. Me too, actually. That fringe…

It would all be very wholesome if it weren’t for the next picture.
Jiyong, much later that night. Cigarette in mouth, eyes super spaced out, clearly wasted. His arm around Cheungha, who looks similarly drunk.

I take a deep breath.
And then I quickly shut my computer when I hear footsteps beside me in the hallway, even before I realize it’s Jiyong himself. He stops mid-step, probably because I’m sitting on the floor when there are perfectly good desks nearby. Also, I just behaved like I’m hiding something, which… I kind of am.

“That bad?” he asks, and I can’t help but smile before I shake my head.
“No, you just startled me.”
“Oh. Well, we can’t have that. Sorry.”
I shake my head again. “I was just looking at old pictures. The hairstyles are all over the place.”

To my surprise, he squats down until he’s at eye level with me. Mask and shades are gone, though the winter hat is still there.

“Well... yeah, that I get. That really is scary. What year?”
I hesitate.
My mouth is a little dry when I finally answer.
“Around the time we first met?”

I hold his gaze, pinning him down a bit with it. I probably shouldn’t ask, but ever since that moment before break, my curiosity about whether he remembers me from way back then has reignited. I’m not even sure why. What does it matter now?

I think there’s a flicker in his eyes. A shift. His composure drops for half a second before he slowly nods.
“So... like ten years ago?”

We stare at each other, the moment hanging. He remembers. Or at least, he’s not pretending he doesn’t.
“Eleven,” I correct him, knowing full well that the exact number isn’t the point.
“Ten and a half…”
We’re both smirking now.

“Show me?”
I take a breath and open my computer again, click back to the first of those summer pictures. He skips through them himself, the laptop still on my lap. When the tree photo appears, he sucks in his upper lip and chews on it for a second. Is that discomfort?

“We were babies,” he finally says.
“Yeah, we were. But really, we were grownups, right?”
He nods slowly. We were in our mid-20s… no teenagers.
His eyes are still on the picture when he speaks again.

“Was a good weekend until…” He pauses.
“Until?”
“Until I messed it up.”
His head turns toward me and there’s something oddly satisfying about it.

He didn’t break my heart back then. But it was kind of a dick move. And after seeing him again all these years later, I always felt like I wanted that to at least be acknowledged. It took its sweet time, but here it is, finally. And I feel a weird sense of peace.

“Yeah, you did. But you drank what felt like two bottles of Jack that night, so…”

He didn’t exactly apologize. I didn’t exactly say it’s fine. But it feels like both of those things just happened. And I know he feels it too, because he starts grinning before getting back to his feet.

“You should check out the hair from early early 2020. Man, that was bad,” he says, clearly about to leave - probably already late for something again.
“Oh, I remember that…” I say, and he just nods.
Then he turns around and walks away.

I look back at the picture one more time, then sigh and shut the computer.
Time to go home.

Summer 2014

Sunday night, trying to make dinner for everyone staying at the holiday house. It's… a mess, honestly. The idea was sweet, but the reality is that most of us would rather be outside drinking or swimming and now no one took care of it and everyone’s hungry too. So yeah - we ordered takeout. The place is kind of remote and the order was huge, so it’s going to take an hour. In the meantime, a few of us are scavenging for snacks like it’s a group survival challenge.
I figured helping is the least I can do, considering I got invited here, so now I’m slicing up cucumber sticks and laughing at myself because let’s be real, no one’s going to eat them. They might end up in someone’s drink, maybe, but that’s about it. Still, effort counts, right?

I shouldn’t be surprised, but I kind of am, when Jiyong shows up next to me. Is he just really quiet when he walks or did he time this on purpose?
When I glance over and see him grab another knife to (very badly) help chop, I can’t help but smile.
“What?” he asks, smirking. “You can’t admit you like hanging out with me?”

Yeah, that’s the thing. It makes me feel silly how into him I am, but at the same time, it feels so good.
Like, my body is already reacting before my brain can catch up.
He looks very pleased with himself, clearly enjoying the effect he’s having.
“Maybe.” I say, keeping it vague, eyes back on the cutting board.
He shifts his hip just enough to nudge mine, casually, like he does it all the time.
Both of us grin wider.
Then his pinky slides over, hooking into mine.
We are literally holding fingers while chopping vegetables. It’s painfully adorable.

After a minute, I can feel his gaze on me, so eventually I give in and look back, chin tipped over my shoulder, lips already twitching into another smile.
He is just… beautiful. There’s something wild in his eyes, and at the same time he can be unexpectedly sweet. And - ugh, I kind of hate to admit this, because it’s not something I want to be into - but he’s effortlessly cool. The way he moves, the way he talks, even the way he leans on the kitchen counter now looking at me from slightly below. He’s just… cool.
That look really does something to me. Like he’s perfectly happy to stay in this moment, letting it stretch out, riding the tension instead of jumping ahead? I’m into it. I’m so into it.
My friend warned me. And she’s right. But… damn.

We look at each other for what feels like minutes. No more pretending. No more playing it off like a coincidence.
His hand slides closer, then settles gently over mine, fingers weaving in between.
He moves a little closer, one hand lazily playing with the ends of my hair while my fingers absentmindedly fumble with the collar of his little polo.
And thank god that’s exactly when someone else walks into the kitchen - because honestly, who knows where that was headed.
We both take a tiny step back, just enough to make it look casual. He’s grinning like getting caught was half the fun.
Honestly? Same.

The cucumber sticks go exactly as expected: ignored. But then the takeout finally arrives, and suddenly everyone’s back in party mode, as if hunger never existed. And wow, what a party. Even more alcohol than last night, music blasting, people dancing, laughing too loudly…
I get pulled into a chat with two other women on the deck and lose track of time for at least an hour. By the time I look around again, everyone’s several drinks ahead of me. I know I won’t catch up - not that I want to. Watching everyone slowly unravel is kind of fascinating.
I’ve seen drunk people, especially in Seoul, but this is different. It’s indulgent. Decadent, even. I’m not sure I belong here, actually. Scratch that - I know I don’t. But dropping in for a few days? Kind of delicious.

And you know what would make this whole sun-soaked, wine-drenched weekend perfect?
Finally kissing Ji.
God, finally.

Screw being careful. We’re heading home tomorrow. It’s now or never.
He was watching me earlier, too - half an hour ago, maybe more. He even looked a little annoyed that I was talking to someone else. I haven’t seen him for a while, but now that I’ve made up my mind, I’m not interested in waiting.

I want to kiss that cheeky little smirk right off his face.

He’s kissing Cheungha.
And by kissing, I mean they’re making out in the dark, pressed against the hallway wall.
Her hand is under his shirt, and he’s feeling her up.

For a second, I just stand there, frozen. My first instinct is to turn around and leave, but then she notices me - or at least notices they’re not alone - and starts giggling.
Ji turns his head toward me as well and I can tell he recognizes me instantly.
But I don’t wait for his reaction. I leave.

On my way outside, it’s like there’s static buzzing in my thoughts. Fuck. I drank a lot too. I can’t even organize what I’m thinking.
Eventually, as I make my way back down to the lake without any real plan, it all comes out - in the form of laughter.
It surprises me a little. But seriously, it is kinda funny.
I won’t pretend I’m not upset. At both of them, actually.
But the fact that Cheungha warned me about this - and then went and did it anyway?
Come on. It’s so dumb it’s funny.

I stop when I see Seunghyun by the lake.
He looks up and smiles when he recognizes me.
“Let me guess. You just walked in on budget Romeo with his tongue down someone else’s throat?”
I snicker and sink onto a log next to him. He must have seen them as well.

He takes a drag from his cigarette and pats my shoulder.
“Jiyong’s a mess. A charming mess. But still a mess.”
“Thanks for the heads-up.”
“Don’t take it personally. He does this. He treats attention like it’s oxygen. And I’ve never seen Cheungha this drunk, if that helps.”
“Not really. But I appreciate the effort.”

He watches me for a moment, then grabs a bottle from beside him and offers it to me. I accept.
“We could make out to even the score. For symmetry.”
I can’t help but grin.
“Tempting. But I think I’d rather go home with a little dignity intact.”
Seunghyun nods. “You’re smarter than you look. That’s rare around here. But it’s after 4 AM, so… just wait 'til the morning.”

I sigh, take a sip and nod, trying to collect my thoughts.
“Okay, yeah - you’re right. But let’s at least take a dip. I need to clear my head.”

Minutes later, we’re in the water. And honestly?
I’m actually having fun.
Screw kissing pretty boys.
Probably never going to see the guy again anyways.

Chapter Text

Winter 2019

“This winter is really rather mild, I would say…”
If looks could kill, Cheungha would be a goner.
“I know. But I come from a country where winter doesn’t winter quite this hard, and full-length puffer coats aren’t part of the national identity.”
Of course I have one now. This is my fifth winter in Korea. I froze through the first one because I refused to wear those sleeping-bag-with-arms coats. Then I adapted. Now I own three. It’s freezing outside and when it snows here, it really snows. Pretty now, sure - but five minutes ago I was in a full-body weather battle just walking from the subway to her apartment. I shake my hair out, sending snowflakes everywhere, and dramatically unbutton my coat to reveal my party outfit underneath.

“For god’s sake, just take a taxi next time,” she groans. “Like the rest of us.”
I sigh. We’ve had this conversation a million times. She calls me a fake Korean. I call her soft. And then we make dinner.
I missed her.

She’d been living abroad the last four years and we naturally drifted - mostly just in the “being on opposite continents” way. But since she moved back to Seoul a few weeks ago, it’s like we picked up right where we left off. Our friendship was never super peaceful. we weren’t the cuddly, braid-each-other’s-hair, tell-each-other-everything kind of friends. We were more the “lazy slobs who can eat an entire pizza in silence” kind. And also the “fight over nothing for sport” kind. But having her back has made my life better. She reminds me of my first few months in Seoul, when everything still felt exciting and chaotic. Not that it’s boring now, but routine has crept in like it always does. Her being back kind of snapped me out of autopilot.

What I didn’t fully consider back then, though, was who else would come along with her.
Her friends.
Friends I hadn’t seen in a long time. Some I’d actively avoided. People who, honestly, didn’t even seem to remember me at first.
Well, some still didn’t, whatever.

Seunghyun had walked right up to me at her "Welcome Home" party and hugged me like we were lifelong buddies. Which was funny, because we’d only spent a single weekend together at a lakeside house five years ago - and mostly we were all... preoccupied. I recognized a few other faces from that trip too.

And then Jiyong walked in.
And walked right past me.
Didn’t even blink. I actually laughed. Like, wow, I must’ve made zero impression. Incredible. It was fine, though - I wasn’t planning to see much of him anyway.

What I hadn’t realized was that Cheungha’s return had reawakened a whole wave of nostalgia, not just for me but for their whole group. The guys had only recently finished military service and things had been quiet ever since the whole mess with their former fifth member. (Yes, that mess. I read the articles too. I hoped they weren’t like him… but how would I know?) They’d gone full hermit mode for a while. Not going out much, avoiding crowds, keeping things low-key. A movie night here. A house party there. I was cautious at first, but it didn’t take long before I realized how upset they were by everything and it made me trust enough to hang with them.
Sure, they still liked to drink and party. Still loud. Still obnoxiously talented. But there was less chaos now. Fewer broken furniture incidents. And an unexpectedly high rate of playing Uno during hangovers. Which was kind of weird. And kind of adorable.

So anyway, I take off my coat, grabbing a plastic bag full of convenience store goodies on the counter and slip off my shoes before heading into the living room where the night is already five steps ahead of me.

I grin when I spot Daesung. That’s just what his face does to me. I flop down next to him on the couch and get a little side hug in return. We became friends fast. He’s the kind of person who makes that easy.

“Oh, you got all the good stuff.” he says, already digging through the bag.
Of course I did. I know what he likes.
“Sweet for youuuu…” I say, pointing at Daesung with the dramatic flair of someone announcing a prize.
“Salty for youuuu…” I gesture toward Cheungha and another friend sitting across the room.
“And... sweet AND salty for you.” I point at Jiyong, who looks slightly surprised to be included in the snack choreography, but then smiles. A little shy, maybe.

With Daesung, it had felt like I could trust him to tell him my life story after talking for an hour. He’s open and sunny and just... fun. Jiyong, though? Hanging out with him had felt a little strange at first.
So he forgot me. Big whoop. And yeah, what happened back then wasn’t exactly flattering, but whatever - I wasn’t still mad about it. Not really. I wasn’t even that upset with Cheungha. They were drunk idiots and maybe they saved me from a bigger heartbreak by accident. From what I could tell, nothing serious ever came out of it.
At first, I assumed Ji just wasn’t interested in talking to me. Fair. But with time, I realized he wasn’t standoffish - he was just more introverted than I’d expected. Quiet. Kinda shy. It was a little surprising. Maybe he’d changed. Maybe it was that he wasn’t non-stop drunk like the first time around. Maybe it was just different seeing him at house parties instead of bars, no crowd, no hype, just a handful of people and a bunch of snacks.
But he’d blush. A lot. Cover his face when people teased him. Get flustered and awkward and sometimes even admit it outright. It was kind of sweet. And honestly, it was hard to stay annoyed at someone who clearly had no idea how to not be endearingly weird.
So eventually, he warmed up a little. And so did I.
No mention of the summer of 2014. We just... skipped it.

I only realize I’m still looking at him when he suddenly turns his head and sticks out his tongue at me.
Pfffff.
I squint my eyes in a silent laugh, then shake my head like I’m exasperated - when really, I’m just a little charmed. Yeah. He’s a good guy. Weird, sure, but in the best way. I like having him around.
Honestly, I like having all of them around. There’s something special about this group. A little chaotic, a little sad sometimes. Like they’re carrying things they don’t always talk about. But still - there’s laughter, snacks, dumb games and the kind of late-night nonsense that makes you feel like you belong somewhere.
And between all the big personalities and old wounds and weird in-jokes, I feel oddly at home.
Like maybe this winter is going to be good.
Like 2020 will be my year.
(oh dearie dear… you have no idea what is coming!)

January 2025

When I see the Uno cards laid out on the airplane tray in front of Youngbae, I can’t contain myself.

Usually I try to keep it professional at work. A lot of people have figured out by now that I knew some of the guys before all this, but I don’t want to be office gossip. Still… this? This is too much.

We’ve been in the air for hours, on our way to Paris. Very exciting. Very sleepless. I’ve already done my little pacing laps around the plane - classic insomnia behavior - but this is actually entertaining. The sight of those cards throws me right back to that winter before the pandemic, when endless rounds of Uno were the only thing keeping us from falling apart. We'd just started hearing about COVID. None of us took it seriously yet.

Youngbae looks up and grins when he sees me in the dim overhead light. He pats the seat next to him and I don’t even think - I just plop down. We start to play, quickly realizing it’s not really a two-person game. Still, it’s something.

That’s when Jiyong shows up.

He slows his steps when he sees me in his seat, eyebrows raised in a silent question. I shoot up, stammering an apology, but he just shakes his head, smirks, and tilts his chin in that very specific way that means scoot over. Now the three of us are squished into two first-class seats like kids at a very fancy sleepover and weirdly, it works.

What doesn’t work is how much Jiyong is cheating at Uno.

Okay, yes, I’m sitting in the middle, which makes it hard to hide my cards, but he’s shameless. Peeking, scheming, lying. A true menace. I hold a flat hand in front of his face when he tries to sneak another look.

"Uh-uh." I say, laughing. "No, Mister."

He grins like the devil and then leans in like he’s about to bite my hand. I laugh harder but hold my ground, lowering my hand slowly while still glaring at him. Not today, Satan.

And then he just stares at me. Not the obvious, casual kind of stare. The kind that feels private. The kind only I notice.

I know that look.

If I didn’t, I could chalk this whole thing up to boredom. To silly, flirty chaos. But I’ve seen this face before.

Slightly raised eyebrows. That playful smirk tugging at just one side of his mouth. Peter Pan energy with a side of something dangerous.

He looked at me like that before.
Back when we almost kissed. That day. The day before. All of it.

And I’m frozen. Mesmerized, honestly. I know that word’s cheesy, but it fits. I’m completely pulled in. I can’t stop looking at him, no idea what my face is doing.

And then…

He sticks his tongue out at me again.

It’s ridiculous. It’s stupid. It’s so him.

In a split second, everything collides in my head - his smirk, the Uno cards, the memory of him and Cheungha in that hallway, him lying under a tree, snow in his hair, the smell of summer, the flash of lights on stage.

And I giggle.

Like, actually giggle.

The horror.

I shoot my cards up to my mouth like that’ll somehow put the sound back in my throat. As if I can unsend the embarrassment.

“Come on, it’s your turn,” Youngbae says beside me. “I’m almost winning.”

I panic. I turn, stare at my cards like I’m trying to decipher ancient runes, and play something totally nonsensical. I think it was a green seven. Or maybe a draw four. Honestly, I blacked out.

Eventually, Youngbae really does win. Deserved, honestly.

I pretend I need the bathroom, mumble something about stretching my legs, and escape. But not before I catch a look at Jiyong’s face.

That grin. It’s somewhere between smug and satisfied, like he didn’t win the game, but he still won.

In the mirror, I see it: my cheeks are red. Full-on blush. There’s no coming back from that.

And I know - I know - that stupid giggle is going to haunt me forever. I’ll be trying to fall asleep one night and there it’ll be, echoing in my head like a curse. And so will his face. At 25. At 30. At 36. Always smirking.

I’m doomed.

Chapter Text

January 2025

“So, you have a little crush. What’s the harm?”
Julie is my best friend from back home. We’ve known each other since we were seven and even now, years and an ocean apart, we’re still hanging in there. We don’t call as often as we used to, and we definitely don’t see each other enough, but when it comes to the big stuff, the real-life stuff, we’re in each other’s corners. Always. And considering she has two kids under five, I think that’s pretty impressive.
Right now, I’m in my hotel room in Paris. It’s 4 AM. I should be asleep, but jetlag has decided to ruin my life. Julie, meanwhile, is getting ready for bed. It’s her daughter’s birthday tomorrow - my goddaughter - and in my sleep-deprived, emotionally fragile state, I wish more than anything that I could be there. Instead, I’m sitting cross-legged on a five-star hotel bed in pyjamas, feeling both glamorous and homesick.
Back to the question. What’s the harm in a little crush?
In theory, nothing. I agree. In practice? Slightly more complicated. Maybe the fact that I am crushing AGAIN?
“Well… there’s the fact that I work with him. Kind of for him. The fact that we were friends once and I don’t really know what we are now. The fact that we already did this before and it didn’t blow up my life, but it also didn’t end particularly well. And… I still don’t feel like I fully know him. He’s constantly changing.”
She pauses. I think she’s absorbing the full mess of it all. Then again, maybe she’s just trying to find a diplomatic way to tell me I’m being ridiculous.
“People changing isn’t a bad thing, you know, it’s called growth. Maybe it’s not that he’s inconsistent. Maybe he just has layers. People are complex, we just try to make them simple in our head to make sense of them.”
Deep. But yeah, she’s right.
Why do I expect him to make sense like some cartoon character with a fixed catchphrase and one defining trait? He’s not a hero or a villain. He’s just... complicated. Real.
I fidget with the hotel room pen, rolling it between my fingers. “The other points still count, though. Right?”
“Only if you’re really still attracted to him, not just charmed. This isn’t just about logic.”
“Not still… again. Yeah.”
She laughs. I can hear it in her voice - she knows I didn’t want to say that out loud.
“You like him?”
I pause. Sigh.
“Yeah. I like him.”
There it is. Out in the open. It makes me feel both lighter and completely stupid. But I’m not going to lie to Julie. Lying to her would take more energy than the entire Paris trip.
There’s a moment of quiet on the other end.
“No advice?” I ask.
She exhales.
“Nope. You wouldn’t listen anyway.”
That makes me laugh. She’s not wrong.
“Just don’t get hurt,” she says, her voice warm but serious. “Or I swear I’ll get on a plane and kick his ass. I may be small, but I’m scrappy.”
I grin and sink deeper into the pillows. “I know. But I think he might get scared of you. My money would definitely be on you.”

A few days later, I’m standing backstage, watching rehearsals for the Pièces Jaunes Gala, and I can’t stop smiling. I’m over the jetlag, finally sleeping again, and Paris is doing its magical Paris thing. The schedule is packed - as always - but at least it’s packed in a beautiful city with great pastries.
There’s something about this whole trip that feels different. I can’t even explain why, but everyone seems to feel it. Something in the air, maybe.
The performance itself is a hit. Viral even. I find myself in an elevator with J-Hope at one point, which feels like a strangely perfect detail in a week of tiny, sparkly wins.
All around good, good times.
I think people can tell I’m in a good mood. Jiyong definitely does.
We’re in the lounge at the airport, waiting for our flight back to Seoul, casually chatting at the bar. We’re mid-laugh over something dumb when he suddenly slides his arms around me and pulls me into a hug.
I blink. Freeze.
Just a second ago we were exchanging jokes. Now I’m full-on stunned into silence. He notices right away that I’ve gone quiet.
“What’s wrong? Can’t I hug you?”
“Uhm… not sure? I don’t think we ever have?”
His arms are still loosely around my waist. Maybe that’s when it hits him too - that randomly hugging your employee isn’t exactly standard behavior.
“Sorry,” he says, backing off a little. “I think the good mood got to me. I didn’t mean to overstep…”
He’s about to step away completely when I gently move my hand over his, keeping it in place. Then I wrap both arms around his shoulders and hug him back.
“No, it’s fine. It’s good. You’re right. I like it.”
My heart is doing the absolute most right now. Not just because of how close we are, but because I actually said that. Out loud.
He lets out a soft chuckle, probably because I just made a casual hug sound like a life-altering event.
“Because you like hugs?” he teases.
“Yes.” I do. But that’s not the whole story.
“And because you’re happy?”
“Yes.”
“And because you think I’m kinda cute?”
I take a slow, deep breath. He smells really good. Clean and warm, like laundry and a hairspray that isn’t half bad. Part of my face is tucked into his shoulder and honestly, I want to stay there for a bit. But I know I have to pull away at some point.
When I finally look up at him, I nod. “Yes.”
He doesn’t smirk. Doesn’t make a joke or get cocky. He actually looks a little shy.
And it’s weirdly adorable.
Usually, when things get real like this, he covers his face or hides behind a hat or a hoodie or literally anything in arm’s reach. But this time he can’t. His hands are still on me after all.
“Good,” he says quietly. “Because I think you’re very cute too.”
Just two people in their mid-thirties, standing in an airport lounge, blushing like teenagers over a hug and a couple of sweet words.
It’s still nothing. Nothing official, nothing dramatic.
I mean… lots of things are cute. Puppies are cute. Ducks are cute. Even some grandmas are cute. Jiyong is.

But this just isn’t the place for… whatever this moment is. And it’s like we both feel that shift at the same time - right when the outside world barges back in with a loudspeaker announcement overhead.
We let go.
No drama, no awkwardness. Just a quiet little reset.
We fall into step and walk back to where the others are waiting like nothing happened.
A few minutes later, we head toward the gate. I notice my palms are a little sweaty.
Very grown-up of me.

February 2020
It’s a Thursday night but somehow feels like a weekend. The cold is still biting outside but Jiyong’s apartment is warm and softly lit, a little too fancy for how casual everything else is. It’s the first time I’ve been here and I don’t know what I expected, but definitely not floor-to-ceiling windows and a sofa you sink into like it’s made of clouds. The kind of place where you’re scared to spill anything. Or breathe too loud.
There’s music playing low somewhere in the background, snacks on the coffee table, someone left a jacket hanging over a designer chair. It’s a mix of comfortable and intimidating. I’m not sure if the others feel the same way, maybe they just don’t show it. Well, I guess some of them have similar apartments.

I’m the odd one out, but in the last couple of weeks, we’ve grown close enough for me not to feel too weird about it anymore. Mostly I forget about it. This apartment just threw me for a little loop.

We’re laughing about something dumb, one of Daesung’s stories maybe, and then someone gets a weird news alert on their phone about that Covid disease. We switch on the TV.

The tone in the room shifts immediately.
It’s about that church outbreak, the first one in the city.
Shincheonji.
That’s the first time the word really sticks. On-screen, there’s footage of people in masks, health officials in hazmat suits, clusters forming.
The energy in the room dips.

Cheungha makes a joke about how dramatic the news always is. Something about zombie movies and government overreactions.
It’s half funny, half uneasy.
Nobody wants to say they’re worried. But I think we all are, a little.

I glance over at Jiyong. He’s leaning back, arms crossed, face unreadable. He hasn’t said a word since the news came on.
We don’t talk about it for long. We don’t want to. Someone turns the music back on. The mood resets a little. Not completely, though.
I get up and wander into the kitchen to get more drinks, and a few moments later Jiyong follows.
He opens the fridge door like it personally offended him.
"Why do I have three kinds of sparkling water but no beer?" he mutters.
"That's your own fault, Mr. Designer Fridge.” I say, reaching past him to grab a soda.
He smirks. "I was trying to look like someone who has their life together."
"Well, you fooled me until now."
Our fingers brush slightly over a can and he pulls his hand back fast. Too fast for it to be casual.
We both look down, then away, then laugh a little. Quietly.

When it’s time to go, we all shuffle into jackets and scarves, saying goodbye in that sleepy, warm way people do when they’ve been together for hours.
I hug them all, Daesung, Youngbae, Cheungha. She gives me that extra squeeze she always does.

And then there’s Jiyong.
We sort of just look at each other. Smile. I give a little wave that I regret almost immediately.
He nods. That’s it.
We’ve never really hugged. I don’t know why. Just hasn’t been our thing. And then I guess it was too weird to start.
It feels a little awkward now, only because everyone else did. But then again, maybe it would have been awkward if we had.
When I leave, I don’t think much more about it.

JIYONG
The door clicks shut. The apartment feels too quiet all of a sudden.
I walk back into the living room, pick up some half-finished drinks, leave them on the counter.
My fingers brush over the throw blanket she had wrapped around her legs and fold it up. It’s still warm.

I let out a slow breath and glance around.
She liked the windows. I noticed her staring out for the longest, time like she was seeing Seoul for the first time. Like it was something beautiful. That made me smile. I sometimes forget HOW lucky I am to have this view.

I keep thinking about the way she laughed earlier, how her whole face lit up. How she took the deepest breath when the news came on.
How she hugged the others goodbye.
How her eyes landed on me at the door and stayed there just a second too long.

I thought about hugging her too. Just a quick one. Casual.
But I didn’t.
I didn’t know how. Not with her. Not anymore.

It’s not really about her, though. It’s me. It always has been.
Since I came back from the military. Since what happened to the band.
Since all of it.
I used to be good at this. At being close.
I liked hugs. And I think I liked her.
Now I’m not sure I remember how.

Chapter Text

February 2025

He suddenly stops and crouches down to tie his shoe. I hear him mutter “Man, even my shoes are tired.” Like it’s a secret not meant for anyone else. It makes me notice how tired I am too - bone-deep - but the cold air feels kind of incredible. Maybe it’s the contrast after being in that loud restaurant too long or maybe the buzz of alcohol still lingering in my blood. Or maybe, just maybe, there really is something magical in the air.

It had been a couple of weeks since the Paris trip. The night the first episode of Good Day premiered had ended quietly, in the best possible way. No press, no red carpet, just a small private screening for the team who had worked on Good Day these past few months. An hour in a dark room watching it all play out on screen for the first time, then a long dinner with just the right amount of side dishes and alcohol. Laughter, clinking glasses, proud glances across the table. The kind of evening that felt like it belonged in a time capsule. My cheeks still ached from smiling.

Afterwards, outside the restaurant, Jiyong asked if I wanted to walk for a bit. "To let the buzz wear off.” he said, even though we both knew he didn’t live anywhere near me. But I wasn’t ready to go home yet either. His album release was less than two weeks away and my head was still full of scenes and color grades and notes that needed fixing. But we were both in good moods and slightly tipsy and it felt too nice to end things just yet. So we started walking. Just us, a quiet February night and the kind of cold that made you talk a little slower and lean in a little closer.

That’s when I notice it.
Snowflakes, soft and sudden, landing in his hair.
My eyes widen and a surprised laugh escapes before I can help it. I glance around. Yep - it's definitely snowing.
The sound makes him look up from where he’s still kneeling. When he sees my face, he jumps to his feet.
“Woah... what - okay, this is very dramatic of the sky. Very Disney.”

We start walking again, fast enough to keep warm, not fast enough to miss the moment.
It’s beautiful.
The snow doesn’t stick right away, just sort of swirls around us and disappears as it lands. We walk straight through it like we’re in a movie or someone’s dream sequence. I’m telling him about a clip I want to use for his social media - a rehearsal one where he almost fell off the stage. It scared the crap out of me at the time, but it’s hilarious on video.

“I think I peaked in that one.” he says, grinning. “Almost fell to my death but looked cool doing it.” 
“You did.” I say, without even thinking.
 He looks over at me, hands buried deep in his coat pockets, clearly pleased.
 “So that’s the clip? The one that’ll go viral? G-Dragon, dancing like a weirdo, nearly dying?” 
“You know it would work.”
 He pauses, thinks, then laughs. “Yeah. Probably.”

The snow’s starting to stick now. Our footprints show up clearly in beneath us, but disappear behind us almost instantly. Like we were never there. I like that.
“I think snow is weird.” I start, surprising myself. “Like... when it hangs around too long, it gets sad. Makes you crave summer. And it’s dangerous and cold and sometimes annoying. But when it first appears again, after a few weeks or months, all of that vanishes. It just feels nostalgic. Not even tied to a real memory. Just... a general feeling of something that never actually happened.”
I’m rambling and I know it. But I don’t care. Ji is listening.
“It makes things feel more important.” he adds after a while. “Like we’re in the middle of a memory forming.”

I stop walking and stare at him.
 “Did you just make that up?”
 “What?” 
“In the middle of a memory forming?”
 He shrugs. “ I guess so.”
 "Fuck...” I keep walking, past him now. “That’s... fucking beautiful.”
He laughs behind me, soft and surprised.

The street quiets. All we hear is the sound of our feet in the snow. We're almost at my place. He’s never been inside, but he knows kinda where I live.
We’re about to turn the last corner when his voice catches me off guard.

“I’m sorry.”
My scarf is wrapped so tight around my face and ears that for a second, I’m not sure I heard him right.
“Hm?”
“I’m sorry.” he repeats.
“For what?”
A pause.
“That summer.”
Oh.

I don’t stop walking, but I do look away. That, I did not expect.
My steps slow. The buzz has faded, mostly - cold air will do that. Maybe that’s why this hits harder. It’s sober. It’s clear.

“It’s fine.” I manage eventually. “That was a long time ago. And... it wasn’t really anything.”
“I know. But it could’ve been.”
His words echo through my chest like a dropped stone.
“Should’ve been.”

Okay. Heart officially awake.
My fingers are tingling and it’s not just the cold. It’s that creeping heat that rises when something old and buried is suddenly out in the open again.
I did feel stupid, back then. For catching feelings so quickly. For believing something might happen just because he smiled the way he did. Because he liked my name. Because he felt kind.

Now I’m wondering - was he walking me home tonight just to say this? Or did the walk stir something up in him? 
Does it matter?

“We’re good.” I say eventually, because I realize I haven’t said anything in a while.
I’ve forgiven him already. I was never even really mad.
“But thanks. For saying it.”

Two minutes later, we’re standing in front of my building, tucked under a small awning as the snow comes down harder. It’s beautiful but bitter now. My nose is freezing.

“Are you going to call a taxi or your driver?” I ask. “Please tell me you’re not walking all the way back.”
He nods, brushing snow off his hat and shoulders.
As he steps closer, it’s instinct. Warmth. Familiarity.
When our eyes meet, we both smile.

This is a moment. We feel it.
Whatever this is - a memory forming - it feels important. He’s important.
I’ve seen so many sides of him over the years and every time I thought I understood him, a new door opened. A new layer. It never stopped.
He reaches up and pretends to fix my scarf. It’s ridiculous - I’m standing right in front of my building, I could be inside in seconds - but I let him do it. He knows I like it. He brushes snow from my shoulders now. Closer. Even closer.

Until all I can see is his face. That face.
“Ji...” I whisper, so soft it’s almost not there. Just a breath. Just a warning.
He chuckles, exhales like he’s shaking something off and lets go. Then dramatically pretends he is suddenly exhausted, forehead landing against my shoulder, him groaning a little.
We both laugh. It’s stupid. It’s adorable. His head stays there a while.
And then - his hand, no, actually just his pinkie. Reaching for mine. Interlocking.
A flash of memory hits me like lightning. Years ago. Same gesture.
I sigh.

“We’re drunk.” I murmur.
He says something back, but our coats muffle the sound and he straightens up again.
“I better go...”
And just like that, I know it’s the right call. I encouraged it, even. Still - there’s a pang of sadness. Some small part of me wishes he’d try again. Kiss me. Warm me up so thoroughly I’d forget the snow, forget the years. Follow me upstairs and…
But he won’t. And I know that.

“It was still a nice memory.” I offer, meeting his eyes. I want him to agree. I want that much.
And he does. With a soft nod.
“No, it was. To be repeated.”

Then he turns. Pulls out his phone. Probably calling a car. A few steps down the road, he turns back and tries to wink at me. Fails. Badly. He still can’t do it right.
I almost…
No.

I wave instead. Turn toward the door. Head for the elevator. Only once the doors close do I really exhale.
Upstairs, I peel off cold wet layers of clothes, throw on two sweaters and the ugliest pair of pajama pants I own. I still can’t warm up.
Lying in bed, I’m frozen stiff, heart still racing.

And I’m terrified - because I think I might not be able to ever forget what he just looked like turning around while walking off. I think I wish he had stayed.

Summer 2014

JIYONG
“No, that... that can’t be right...”
We got to the holiday house maybe an hour ago.
I’m still hungover from last night and, frankly, not planning on breaking the streak. The last few months have been rough and every time I get exhausted or sad, I just throw myself into another party. Not exactly a long-term solution - I know that - but it’s been good enough.
I’m not even sure why I agreed to come out here this weekend. I could’ve stayed in Seoul with a bottle and a playlist. Why am I here again?
Ah. Right. He made me.
Seunghyun, who’s sitting next to me now. We’re both smoking, watching the rest of the group messing around by the lake. He usually gets me to do things I don’t want to do but end up loving.

“I’m telling you.” he says and his grin is so wide I already know he’s been sitting on this piece of information, just waiting to drop it.
“What kind of messed-up coincidence is that?” I mutter, glancing back at the girl he just caught me staring at.

So... yeah. She’s cute.
I like a lot about her.
But it’s not like I don’t see beautiful women every day.

My plan for this weekend was simple: nap, eat, drink. That was it.
Then Cheungha shows up with a friend and suddenly I’m smiling for no reason every time I see her.
Everyone noticed. Not just Seunghyun.
But whatever. Who cares.

“I kinda love it.” he goes on, clearly delighted by how chaotic the situation is. “She’ll think the whole thing is about her in a couple of weeks, whether you forget about her tomorrow or not.”
He keeps laughing. Can’t help himself. And eventually I join him, because - yeah - he’s right. It’s ridiculous.

When I picked that flower motif for my new branding, I never imagined that just weeks before the launch, I’d bump into...
“Hey Daisy, come over here. We’re wondering about something...” Seunghyun calls to her, his English wobbly but good enough.
She turns.
The woman - whose English name I totally missed earlier because Cheungha only introduced her with her Korean name, Dahye - looks our way. Then she walks over, a little hesitant.
And Seunghyun? He just asks her random stuff about her hometown.
Turns out her mom’s Korean, so she speaks it pretty well for a foreigner, though she still seems a little overwhelmed. Makes sense - she only just moved to Seoul.
She goes by Dahye here, but I wonder if that feels like a fake name to her. Like she left the real version of herself back home. Like she’s walking around in a costume.
Okay, maybe I’m overthinking it but...

Daisy.
 My Daisy.

A day later, she’s lying in my arm, under the shade of a tree and for a second, life actually feels good.
But not really.
I’m still messed up. I’m a mess.
Even on my best days - no alcohol, no stress - my pulse never seems to calm down. My anger flares up out of nowhere, I’m moody, annoying, just... tired. All the time.

“What are you thinking about?” she asks softly.
I thought she’d fallen asleep.
I look over at her. Her smile is almost innocent. I feel like she can look straight into my soul. Corny, I know.
“You.” I say with a bad attempt of a wink.
 We both chuckle.
“Liar.” she says, turning back onto her back and staring up into the tree.
 She’s right, of course.

But the longer I look at her, the more I think maybe I should be thinking about her.
And maybe the real tragedy is that I won’t.
Who in their right mind lets their own demons mess this up?
...
Oh.
 Right.
Me.

Chapter Text

February 2020

His face is so close to the camera that I start chuckling.
“Why is it so dark on your side? I can hardly see you.”
I glance at my own screen, which I’ve stacked against a bag of rice and a couple of books and yeah... fair. Didn’t even think about lighting when I picked up. “Aesthetic darkness. Adds to the drama…”
He laughs quietly, his lips curling up at the corners. I catch myself just looking at him, soft light flickering on the edge of his cheekbone, then reach for the light switch. When the light comes on and he sees me better, his smile widens and mine does too. Can’t help it.
I straighten up and try to remember why we’re here.

“Okay. So. Curry. We’re having curry. What… where do we start?”
“I have absolutely no idea. I haven’t cooked anything in years.”
“Great. No, this is a very promising venture then.”

We both know it doesn’t matter. The cooking isn’t the point.

There’s no lockdown in place yet, but Covid already has us all wrapped up tight. I haven’t left the apartment in a week. Everyone is working from home, groceries are delivered, the walls feel like they’re leaning in. I was seriously about to lose it when Jiyong randomly asked in our group chat if anyone wanted to cook together. Online. I didn’t expect it from him. Which he admitted too. Turns out I’m not the only one going a little stir crazy.

So we cook rice. Fry meat and veggies. Try to make sauce. He burns something because he’s too busy pulling faces at the camera to entertain me. I smear turmeric across my cheek without noticing and he grins like he’s just seen the best thing all week.
“You’ve got a little… no, more… yeah, now it’s worse. Just leave it. It’s a look.”

When I finally taste the sauce, I’m a little let down. That was a lot of effort for something that’s just… fine.
“You don’t look so happy…”
“Well… it’s alright. Just not great.”
He tries his, makes a heroic attempt at pretending it’s good, then drops his shoulders and groans at the camera.
“Idol boy never learned to cook?”
He’s laughing now, full-on turning to the screen. “Don’t call me that. You know I hate it.”
“That’s exactly why I do it.”

We’re both grinning. Because we know what this is. It’s flirting. Obvious, maybe. But neither of us minds.
“I wish we could actually eat together. This sucks…” he says, finally, voice softer now.
I pout and nod. “Yeah. It does.”

Still, we stay on the call. Eat together anyway. Laugh about who chews louder. Somehow we end up brushing our teeth in sync, both holding our phones up in the bathroom like it’s the most normal thing in the world. It’s weird. But weird in a good way. Intimate, even.

When we say good night, there’s a little pause. Like neither of us quite knows how to end it. Not ready yet to say we should do this again. Even though I think we both want to.
I go to bed with butterflies anyway.
I really need this pandemic to get under control soon. Because I’m starting to think I might actually want to kiss that stupid face of his.

February 2025

I’m in bed when he calls. A video call. For a second I think about not answering, but then I wonder why and pick up. Suddenly I’m very aware of my bare face, the pimple patch on my cheek and my already unraveling top bun. But he looks like he’s been in bed too, the room around him dark. He’s smiling.
“Is this a mistake?” I ask.
“Well hello to you too.”
“Butt dial?”
He chuckles. “When was the last time you butt dialed anyone? Phones don’t even have buttons anymore.”
Fair.
“You look sleepy.” he says and I suck in my lower lip a little in frustration. Not thrilled he noticed. Though it’s pretty obvious.
“Well, I was. Not anymore. Now I’m mostly confused.”
I’m not beating around the bush. I know Jiyong has a habit of pretending things are perfectly normal, even when they aren’t. But I’m not in the mood for that tonight.
He sees my look and knows me well enough as well. There’s a question to be answered.
“Dais, I just missed you. So I thought I’d say hi.”

Fuck.
Okay, that’s... really adorable. And surprisingly honest. My face softens before I can stop it. He sees it and smiles wider. Man. When he smiles like that he looks like a cartoon character. In the best way. It’s a dangerous look, addicting and infectious.

He shifts toward the light. His hair is wet, poking out from under a hoodie. There’s some stubble on his chin, the kind he gets when he’s had a few days off. I almost sigh.

“I think I miss you too.” I say. “Well, I miss hanging out with everyone. Sometimes I’m still sad the group never really got back together… I guess after Cheungha moved to Busan post-pandemic we just…” I stop. Because if I’m honest, I’m not even sure they aren’t still hanging out. They might be. Just without me. Most of them knew each other before. Ji still sees his former bandmates and staff all the time. The others... I don’t know.

“Yeah. Sad that ended.” Jiyong murmurs while flopping onto the couch and grabbing a cat from offscreen.
“Well… why did you stop texting me back then?” I shouldn't care so much, but ask it. I always wondered. Just like I always wondered if he remembered me from the holiday house. No clue why I never asked before, probably didn’t want to admit how much I still wanted to know the answer.

He looks at me - well, at the screen.
“Weren’t you the one who started phasing me out?”
I raise my eyebrows. Genuinely confused.
“Uhm... what?”
He pouts a little. “It felt like... I don’t know, like I was annoying you.”

My mouth opens, then closes again. Oh.
“I’m sorry if I made you feel that way. I think... it was kind of the opposite. I was really sad when I didn’t hear from you anymore. But I didn’t want to seem desperate either.”

We’re both quiet for a moment. A lot to process.

“Shit.” he finally mutters. I nod. Shit indeed.

“But, uh… Daisy. Do you miss the group… or me a bit more than them?”
When he looks up I can tell it took courage. He looks younger like that. Softer.
The corners of my mouth twitch. I almost lie - almost. Some evil instinct tells me to dodge. But I don’t.

“Mainly you, Ji.”

We both grin at each other like absolute idiots.

“Good.” he says finally. And then, surprisingly quickly “Wanna go for a walk?”
It sounds random until I realize he means right now.
I glance out the window. It’s snowing again. I look back at the screen. He’s grinning. My heart jumps. Yeah. We should go for a walk. I want to see him. I’m glad he called.

When I step out of the car about twenty minutes later in a quiet parking lot halfway between our places, I spot his vehicle right away. Of course I do. It's impossible to miss, it’s that flashy.
The driver’s door opens and we both burst out laughing when we see how well our ridiculous layering matches. Pajamas under oversized coats, scarves, beanies and boots that don’t go together at all. I can’t stop giggling as we walk up to each other. It’s fun. It’s light. It’s absurd.
I feel like I’ve time-traveled. Like we both have.

It’s almost 3 AM on a weekday and the residential neighborhood is silent. The snow has stopped but left just enough of a layer to crunch under our feet. Our breath floats up in soft clouds.
As soon as we start moving, he reaches for my hand. Both gloved, but still.

“I missed you the most too.” he says eventually, eyes forward, after we walked for a bit and talked about the cold only.
“Oh…” I reply, barely above a whisper.
“Because I think you’re really wonderful. And I always have.”

That makes me stop for a second. But he doesn’t. He keeps walking, a little slower, tugging gently at my hand so I’ll follow.

“I mean, you probably know. It’s not an apology or anything. Just… an explanation. I just wasn’t in the headspace for anything back then. But I really liked you.”

My brain hits pause. Everything around me slows down, except my heartbeat. I stare at his back and realize his hand is still holding mine like he’s afraid I might pull away. I don’t. But now I have stopped again and he has to as well.

“Like… really liked me?” I ask, catching up.
He turns to me, grinning without much sound. “Yeah. Like really really. But you knew that, right?”
I shake my head. “No. I mean… we flirted a little. But we were always ‘just friends,’ weren’t we?”
He squints at me like I’ve said something truly absurd. “We cooked together on Zoom, Daisy. That’s, like, almost domestic.”
“Yeah… I just thought you were bored.”
He laughs, loud enough that it echoes a little. “I was. Really really bored. But that doesn’t mean I wasn’t looking forward to seeing your face every single day.”

That makes me blush. I lean my head onto his shoulder to hide it and he lets out a soft little sound I can’t quite place. His arm goes around my waist. I feel it through all the layers.

“You still do?” I ask, voice muffled by his coat.
He hums into my hair. “Yeah.”

It’s warm like this, with his arm around me and my head against his shoulder. But eventually I stand up straighter again and that means looking at his face. His beautiful face. He’s bundled up but somehow still manages to look exactly like himself. The sharp lines softened by the cold, his breath visible in the air between us.

“Please… please tell me I can finally kiss you?” he asks and he’s smiling, but not with his eyes. His whole expression is one long, silent plea. He looks like someone barely holding it together. And his voice is needy. Rough.
I feel it too, this restless buzz in my skin. It’s not pity. It’s not pressure. It’s just the overwhelming need to say yes.

So I nod.
And then his lips are on mine.

At first, it’s cautious. One of those slow, nervous, is-this-really-happening kisses. Gentle pressure. A slight tilt of his head. He smells like something sweet I can’t quite place.
But then something shifts.

It gets hungry. Fast. Like we’ve been holding this in for way too long and now we can’t stop. My hands are in his coat, pulling him closer. His fingers slide into my hair even though I’m still wearing a hat. His tongue grazes mine, careful at first then deeper. I gasp against his mouth. He groans softly in return. It’s the kind of kiss that scrambles your thoughts. Makes the world blur at the edges.
I think I make a noise I’ve never made before. Embarrassing maybe. But he likes it. I can tell.
The cold doesn’t matter. The layers of clothing don’t matter. All I feel is him.
All I want is more.

In the end I am not sure how we manage to stop, but we are both so breathless, it takes a few moments to not feel dizzy.
“Wow.” he whispers, barely louder than the snow under our feet. I can’t help but grin. My lips are swollen. My heart feels like it’s trying to tap-dance its way out of my chest.

“Yeah.” he hums, his hands still resting on my waist. “Worth the wait though.”

We stay like that for another moment, just looking at each other like two idiots too happy to move. Then we start walking again, slower now. Our hands find each other’s automatically and I hold onto his like it's the most natural thing in the world. The snow crunches beneath our feet. A cat meows in the distance. Somewhere, a porch light flickers off.
There’s no rush to say anything. It’s the kind of silence that feels shared, not awkward.

By the time we reach the empty little parking lot, I almost wish the walk was longer. I spot my car first, then his - far too shiny and dramatic for this neighborhood, parked just a little crooked. Of course.
We stop in the middle, between the two cars. There’s still a dusting of snow on the windshields. His hair is a mess under his hat. I probably look a mess too. But he smiles like he’s seeing something perfect.

“This was really nice.” he says. And I nod.
No plans are made. No promises. But I know how he looked at me tonight. I know how he kissed me. I know how I felt. So I don’t need any of that.
“Drive safe, okay?” I say, still holding his hand.
“You too.”
I start to let go, but he leans in for one last kiss. It’s softer this time. Not needy, not rushed. Just sweet and certain. A kiss that says I like you and I’m glad we did this and maybe let’s do it again.
Then he opens the car door, gets in, waves once through the window.
I sit in my own car for a second before starting the engine. The heater whirs to life and I lean back against the seat, looking up through the windshield at the quiet sky.
God, I’m glad he called.

Chapter Text

Summer 2014

The sky looks too cheerful for how I feel. Blue, sunny, a few lazy clouds. Birds are chirping. It’s offensively peaceful for a day full of hangovers. I’m standing by the gravel driveway, sunglasses on, hoodie up, suitcase beside me like I can’t wait to leave and… well yeah, I really can’t wait to leave. Everyone’s pretending to be fine after last night’s party. Maybe they are, but it smells like old beer and regret here.
I’m not mad. Just ready to go.
“Hey, Daisy.”
I turn. It’s Jiyong. Of course. He's holding a coffee cup like a prize. Sweater hood pulled low, hair underneath a mess, tired. Still looks too good for someone who should probably be hiding from the world.
“You leaving without saying goodbye?” he asks, voice all smooth like this is charming, like it’s a joke.
I blink. He smirks. I hate that it still does things to me.
“You’re cute when you’re mad.”
“Oh wow. You really just said that?”
He shrugs. “You’re not mad?” he asks, stepping a little closer.
“No” I say honestly. “Just not impressed.”

He tips his head like that’s new information. Like I’m supposed to be flattered he’s even here talking to me. I can tell he’s still drunk. Or maybe that’s just who he is.
His smile falters. Just for a second. But he catches himself and goes back to grinning like this is still salvageable.

That’s when Daesung walks past us with a huge plastic bottle of water. “You two flirt way less sexy in daylight” he says without stopping.
“We’re not flirting.” I call out after him.
Jiyong raises an eyebrow. “Speak for yourself.”

And that is when I walk away.
Not fast. Not dramatically. Just done. I’ve got a train to catch and enough dignity left to not waste another breath on him.
Still… in the car, on the ride to the station, head resting against the window, I find myself replaying the look on his face. That tiny crack in his confidence. That moment where maybe - just maybe - he didn’t have it all together.
Not that it changes anything. But it lingers a little.

March 2025

It’s the 25th. The album is out. Übermensch is here.
A couple of days have passed since that snowy walk but it feels like a lifetime ago.

We’ve seen each other nearly every day since - at work. Surrounded by people. Surrounded by deadlines. Surrounded by too much caffeine and not enough sleep. Everyone is exhausted in that giddy, running-on-adrenaline kind of way. No one has time to breathe. Let alone flirt.
We’ve texted. Brief little things. Updates. Memes. One photo of one of his cats. Nothing romantic. Nothing that said hey, remember how we kissed like our lives depended on it?

It’s fine. We’re fine. I’m not spiraling.
Okay. I might be spiraling just a bit.
I didn’t want to be of course and at first I didn’t even want to admit it, but fuck. It’s always in the back of my head.

The worst part is he seems normal. Not cold. Just… busy. Charming to everyone, polite to me. A couple of long glances across meeting rooms, but nothing that lands.
I start to wonder if I made it bigger in my head than it was. Maybe it was the snow. Maybe he felt something for five minutes and then went back to being whoever he is now. A pop star with a schedule that has its own gravitational pull.
I tell myself not to take it personally.

The day comes and goes. Some of it - a lot of it actually - feels like a dream. Hard to grasp, in a way, because we worked so long and hard on this album. It’s hard to believe it’s finally here, people are listening.

Tonight is the album release party at a swanky venue downtown and I was hoping to enjoy the night but I still feel so much pressure when I get ready. This is still work after all. Maybe come tomorrow it will get better? Or will we forever run after the next thing and then the next thing…
Or am I just being anxious because of everything?

When I arrive it feels good… but at the same time I disappear into the background. There are so many people I know and so many I know of. Pictures are being taken and flashes illuminate the otherwise dark red-tinted room. Is this a party? Or just the photo op of a party?
I sigh at myself. What did I expect.
Well… at least a pretty tight hug.
Instead I try to at least have a good time.

It’s after midnight and I am standing in a hallway toward the back entrance of the venue. I needed a quieter moment, a strong coffee and a moment to lean against this table after dancing for quite a while. My feet hurt. My voice is hoarse. 
A part of me wishes I was drunker. Another just wants to go to bed. And a third one wishes I wasn’t thinking about Ji.

Of course it’s hard not to. I’ve seen him all night.
Deep down I know I’m being hard on myself but what can you do.

Daesung walks past me toward the exit, probably to sneak a smoke outside and grins wide at me. I know that grin. He’s trying to make me smile as well because he can tell I am not a hundred percent, he is good at that. The sound of his footsteps gets me out of my thoughts. I check my phone once he’s gone and wonder whether I should just go home. My duties for today are done done done.

That’s when a second pair of footsteps comes up, much quieter and not quite as startling anymore.
When I look up, Jiyong has already walked up next to me. He’s now also leaning against the table and just props his chin onto my shoulder, pretending to look at my phone with me.
A hesitant smile from him. Then me smiling as well.

My heart is about to explode. I feel… shy and somewhat relieved. Confused but happy. It’s a lot.
“Hi,” he says, looking up. He doesn’t move away. Still leans over at me, but now we’re on eye level.
“Hi.”
For a second we just… look at each other.
It’s strange how familiar he feels and also how much space we’ve let grow between us the last few days.
“I’ve been hoping to catch you alone all day. Several days actually.”

Mad, almost concerning, how these two sentences from him make all that spiraling disappear for a moment.
Thank fucking god. I wasn’t alone in this.
Well, I was. But we were on the same page. Just not together, unfortunately.

“Busy. I get it,” I answer, trying to be casual for some reason, pretty sure that my face gives me away anyway. To be honest, I have no idea why I say that. It’s stupid.
He nods. Then adds, almost shyly “I couldn’t stop thinking about you though.”
I swallow, look down at the steam from my coffee cup.
Then I sigh all my relief away and now I’m the one who lets her head fall to his shoulder.
Ji moves an arm around my back and puts his cheek to my head and we just stand there for a second.
There are so many things I want to say but now that I have the chance my head is so empty.
I just want to be here with him… quiet for a moment.
And so we are.
Until I finally break away to look into his eyes again.
“I hope… I really hope this album does as well as it deserves. Like… you deserve. I hope people appreciate it because…”

Why am I getting teary-eyed. I haven’t even expressed what I mean.
That I’m proud of him. That he doesn’t need the praise but I still hope he gets it because the music is so great and every stupid little detail and…
I’m tired but happy now and… too many words. Too little at the same time, so I stop and stand there with slightly open mouth.

He just looks at me and presses his lips together. Raises one hand to gently let the side of his thumb glide across my temple. Nods slowly a couple of times, as if to say It’s okay, I get it.
And I think he really does.

I take another deep breath and then I just hug him. That might be reckless but I don’t care, because finally, the pressure is gone.
All of it.
Work and the stupid questions in my head. Nothing is clear yet, but I think there is nothing I can do.

Of course that is when Daesung appears again, muttering curse words and something about “nobody has lighters anymore these days.”
But he stops right away, mid-sentence, mid-step and starts grinning when he sees us.
Makes another four steps until he is right next to us. Throws his arms around both of us at once like we’re in a sitcom.
“OH… my gawd” he practically shouts. “You guys are totally fucking.”

I almost choke.
Jiyong makes a sound somewhere between a laugh and a groan.
“We’re not,” I manage.
“Yet” Jiyong adds under his breath.
Daesung gasps like he just won a prize. Gossip Gold, basically.
“I KNEW IT” he announces to absolutely no one. “Oh this is crazy, I can’t believe you finally… oh wow.”
Then he bounds off again, still laughing.
I panic for a second before I realize that whatever this is is safe with him. He loves gossip but he’s been doing this for long enough.

We’re left blinking. Jiyong looks at me with wide, amused eyes.
“Well… that’s one way to get found out.”
I nod, laughing into my cup before I take another sip.
And just like that, everything that was heavy lifts.
Not everything is fixed. Not everything is said. But we’re back in orbit.

Jiyong shifts just a little closer. Not obvious. But close enough that I can feel the warmth of his hand brushing against mine. And then, gently, deliberately, his fingers slip into the space between mine. I glance down like my hand suddenly belongs to someone else. His thumb grazes mine once. Just once. And I swear to god it short-circuits something in my chest.
I look up at him. He’s still smiling, but softer now. Like we’re in a bubble and he knows it.
His hand tightens just slightly around mine.

Then I start smirking because I just remembered that...
“So… yet? We aren’t fucking yet?”
He audibly sucks in some air, rolls his eyes and is actually a tiny bit embarrassed, I can tell. But there is also a hint of a mischievous smile on his lips and the combination of all that is so intoxicating.
Instead of saying anything he moves both arms back around my waist and rests his face back against my collarbone. His currently very green hair is tickling me a little and I move one arm around his back, the other to the back of his head. Let my fingers glide into his (well, a little crispy) hair. For a second I close my eyes while there is the biggest smile on my face. I am so goddamn happy.
It’s a short moment that could have ended quite badly. We got luckier than we probabyl deserved there. So in the end that is all it is. A few minutes of hugging and shared silence. We return to the party hesitantly but both know it’s better that way.

By the time I get home, my cheeks are still warm.
It’s the alcohol and the fact that it’s still really cold outside.

But it’s the hand-holding. It’s the yet. It’s how much lighter I feel compared to a couple of hours ago.

I kick off my shoes, toss my coat on the back of the chair and lean against the wall for a second, just breathing. The city is quiet outside my window. My phone is still in my hand. I stare at the screen, thumb hovering, considering. Maybe I’ll just send a goodnight. Something chill. Something casual and completely non-deranged like hey hope you made it home safe and also I’m still thinking about your hand in mine and my brain’s made of fireworks now ok cool sleep tight.

Before I can type anything, my phone buzzes.
Jiyong: made it home, you there yet?
Jiyong: you looked really pretty tonight btw
I smile so hard it hurts.
Me: same
Me: home I mean
Me: but also… thanks
Me: you didn’t look too bad either
Me: for someone emotionally attacked by daesung
Jiyong: tragic
Me: he might have printed shirts already
Me: there might be a shipping name
Jiyong: might take me years to recover
Jiyong: unless you and I can hang out again sometime soon
Jiyong: that might help
Jiyong: just us this time
I bite my lip. Consider typing something witty, but then don’t. What he wrote didn’t make much sense, but I am so glad he asked.
Me: I’d like that

I beam. Alone in my apartment. At my phone. Like an idiot.
But not really an idiot. I am not an idiot. I am just fucking smitten. Why be unkind to myself about that.
It feels amazing.

Me: Soon?
Jiyong: Yes please
Jiyong: Sleep tight, Dais.