Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

STAGE 1: 

It begins without intention. 

Two teen souls under the same sun, 

laughing because the air feels light. 

No questions, no tags; 

just warmth mistaken for weather. 

It's Innocent Love.

The Convenience Store Escape:

It was nearly four in the morning. The dorm was quiet in that heavy way that only came after days packed with schedules. Everyone was asleep—except Chaeyoung. 

A soft tug on her blanket, then a hand brushing her shoulders. “Unnie…”

Mina stirred, blinking against the dark. When her eyes adjusted, she caught a glimpse of Chaeyoung already tiptoeing toward the door, turning back just enough to press a finger to her lips, signaling a shh.

Still half-dreaming, Mina slipped out of bed and padded after her. Confusion tugged at her for a moment, but it melted as soon as she saw Chaeyoung waiting outside the room with her eyes gleaming with mischief, whispering:

“Snack run?”

Mina glances back into her dark room where Nayeon sleeps soundly, then back at Chaeyoung. 

“…You’re insane.” She hides a smile while rubbing her eyes.

Chaeyoung grins. “Is that a no?”

It isn’t.

They tried to move like shadows, but their socks squeaked against the floorboards, and Mina kept stifling nervous giggles.

When they reached the door, Chaeyoung froze. “Wait. The key.”

Mina blinked. “Key?”

Chaeyoung’s grin spread. “Jihyo keeps it under her pillow.”

Mina’s jaw dropped. “No—Chaeyoung—”

But the younger girl was already sneaking back like a thief in a cartoon. Mina followed, half horrified, half thrilled. Together they crouched by the leader’s bed, holding their breaths. Chaeyoung slid her hand under Jihyo’s pillow and pulled the key free. Mina pressed her lips together to keep from laughing out loud.

Key in hand, they tiptoed back out—until Chaeyoung suddenly tugged Mina’s wrist. “Wait. My wallet.” She darted into her room.

From the doorway, Mina could see the rise and fall of the other maknae’s breathing. Chaeyoung retrieved her wallet from the desk, but on her way out, she stopped, bent down, and picked something up. She turned, beaming, and waved a pen at Mina.

Mina frowned. “...What?”

“Shh.” Chaeyoung crept over to Dahyun’s bed, pen in hand. With exaggerated care, she leaned down and scrawled the tiniest doodle on the girl’s cheek.

Mina clapped a hand over her mouth, shoulders shaking in silent laughter.

“Wait—Momo next,” Chaeyoung grabbed Mina and went together to the next room. 

They both leaned over Momo’s bed like conspirators. This time it was Mina. A curly mustache and Chaeyoung nearly collapsed against the wall trying to contain her laughter.

Jeongyeon stirred suddenly, groaning, and both girls froze, wide-eyed. The second her breathing evened out again, they bolted, half-running, half-crawling out of the room.

By the time they reached the door, their hearts were pounding. They shoved on their sneakers in a frantic scramble, whispering shh’s as they tried to tie their shoes.

Chaeyoung fumbled with the lock, Mina pushing her shoulder, both of them muffling laughter so hard it hurt.

Finally, they made it through the door. They darted under the stairwell, crouching low, gasping and giggling, the thrill bubbling out of them in hushed bursts.

Once outside, everything felt like freedom. The breeze was cold and they jogged a few blocks, breath visible in the air, shoes barely tied.

"Why are we running?” Mina says through laughter.

Chaeyoung gasps dramatically. “Because we’re criminals. Rebels. Wild idols on the loose.”

Mina shakes her head, breathless. “Managers might already know we sneak."

“And you’re gonna blame me and pretend you had no part in it.”

“Oh, I will.”

They both burst into giggles.

At the convenience store, the fluorescent lights hum above them. It's empty—just the two of them and a sleepy cashier who doesn’t recognize them.

They walk the aisles slowly. Mina picks strawberry milk. Chaeyoung grabs three bags of chips. She hands one to Mina with a solemn face.

“For your bravery.”

Mina accepts it like it’s an award.

They sit outside on the curb, knees brushing. They eat in silence for a few minutes, the sound of passing cars in the distance. Then Chaeyoung leans back on her hands, looking up at the sky.

“Do you ever think about just… staying out here?” she asks.

Mina turns to her. “Like, not going back?”

Chaeyoung shrugs. “Yeah. Just disappearing for a night. No cameras, no practice, no curfews.”

Mina laughed, shaking her head. “And miss schedule tomorrow? You’d die first.”

Chaeyoung gasped dramatically. “We’d die together.”

Mina smiled while chewing her snacks. “Terrible plan.”

Chaeyoung grinned wider, kicking at the pavement. “Best terrible plan ever.”

Neither of them said anything more. But the laughter lingered, softer now, carried with the night breeze between them.

Chapter Text

Practice Room:

“Take fifteen”

The words came like a blessing. Nine bodies collapsed almost in unison, sweat darkening shirts, mirrors fogged faintly by their breath, the practice room was heavy with heat and uneven panting. 

Managers and choreographers filed out, their voices down the hallway until silence settled.

Chaeyoung's legs were sprawled and her palms pressed against the cool floor. Every muscle ached, but she didn’t complain. It was the life she’d chosen, the one she’d fought for. She simply closed her eyes, dragging her hands across her face trying to push away sweat.

Then she saw her.

Mina sat a few feet away, knees hugged loosely to her chest, her hair damp and clinging to her cheek. A bead of sweat slid toward the curve of her ear. Chaeyoung, before thinking, pushed herself forward and fumbled for a handkerchief. 

Mina turned just as the cloth brushed her skin. Their eyes met—tired, startled, amused. A soft laugh escaped both of them, weak but unguarded. 

“Dry yourself,” Chaeyoung said, thrusting the handkerchief into her hands. “It’s clean.”

Mina smiled faintly, pressing the fabric to her neck. “Chaengie…” she whispered, almost playful, as if tasting the nickname again.

Before Chaeyoung could reply, the cloth pressed back against her own forehead. Mina’s hands were just a second longer than needed, her smile widening when Chaeyoung laughed. They ducked their heads, laughter spilling softly until it faded. 

And somehow, that was enough. A strange kind of strength filled Chaeyoung’s chest, as if Mina’s small act had given her more rest than the break itself.

“Come on,” she said, pushing herself upright and offering her hand. “Let’s get some water.”

Mina took it, and together they crossed the room toward the sofas and bottles, close enough that their shoulders brushed—neither pulling away, nor saying a word.

Chapter Text

Mafia Game Night:

The living room was made a mess, a comfortable one—blankets everywhere, half-empty soda bottles, and the lingering scent of pepperoni. Nine young girls were scattered across the floor and couches, sitting in a circle playing their favorite game. 

“Okay, everyone close your eyes,” Jihyo commanded, her narrator voice low and dramatic. “The city sleeps. Mafia… open your eyes.”

There were whispers and a few stifled giggles as everyone obeyed. Through the slit between her barely closed eyes, Mina saw Chaeyoung —the Mafia—open hers.

Chaeyoung’s face transformed. Her usual innocence sharpened into mischief. She scanned the room like a predator, her gaze sweeping over her unknowing members. Her eyes landed on Jihyo, and with a tiny, wicked smile, she pointed a single finger at a helpless Dahyun.

Jihyo gave a small nod. “Mafia, close your eyes.”

The round began, but for Mina, the game was already over. She was stuck on the image of Chaeyoung in that moment of silent, powerful conspiracy. It was a side of her that the cameras barely captured—the maknae as a masterful liar.

As the accusations started flying, Mina didn’t listen to the logic. She just watched Chaeyoung. 

Sana started to accuse, but Chaeyoung clutched her chest in mock indignation and, in her practiced innocent voice, began defending herself. “Me? How could it be me? I was sleeping!”

Mina was mesmerized. She saw the way Chaeyoung’s hands moved when she talked, the confident set of her shoulders, the way her nose scrunched just so when she laughed.

The rest of the room, the game, the noise—it all faded into a blur. Her world narrowed to a single person.

Across the room, Nayeon—already eliminated and therefore bored—noticed. She saw Mina’s unwavering, soft-focused gaze, the complete absence of any awareness of anything else. A scheming grin spread across her face. She nudged Tzuyu, who was sitting next to her, solemnly observing the game.

“Yah, Tzuyu-yah,” Nayeon whispered, no taking her eyes off Mina. “Go tell Mina she has pizza sauce on her chin.”

Tzuyu, obedient as always, nodded. She unfolded her long legs and leaned as close as she could to reach Mina’s attention. 

“Mina-unnie,” she whispered, her voice gentle.

Mina didn’t move. Chaeyoung was now passionately defending herself to Jeongyeon, her arguments nonsensical but delivered with such conviction that everyone was laughing.

Tzuyu tried again, a little louder. “Unnie? Nayeon-unnie said you have…”

Nothing. Mina doesn’t even flinch. Her lips were parted in an unconscious smile, her eyes glued to a passionate arguing Chaeyoung.

Tzuyu straightened up. She let it be and went back to the game. 

The room was chaotic, everyone was defending their innocence with a high pitched voice.

Nayeon noticed again that Mina still had pizza sauce on her chin. She leaned back at Tzuyu. “Yah, Tzuyu-yah, did you tell her?” 

Without complaining, Tzuyu tried again. “Mina-unnie,” a little louder this time, “Mina-unnie...”

She turned back to Nayeon, a look of pure, adorable confusion on her face. She gave a small shrug, her voice a quiet, matter-of-fact statement that somehow cuts through the noise of the game:

“She’s not listening. She only looks at Chaeyoung.”

The room didn’t fall silent at once. Laughter died first, then arguments, until only Sana’s giggle echoed for a beat before cutting off.

Nayeon’s head snapped up. Her eyes followed the invisible laser beam of Mina’s gaze, tracing its path directly to its source: Chaeyoung, who was frozen mid-sentence by the sudden attention.

Nayeon’s jaw dropped. She points dramatically between the two of them, her voice exploding with triumphant glee.

“YAH!! MINA ONLY LOOKS AT CHAEYOUNG!”

And the room erupts in laughter. 

Sana shrieked and collapsed onto Momo, who was already dying of laughter. Jeongyeon slammed her palm on the floor. Dahyun laughs and points at a blushing Chaeyoung, forgetting she was just “murdered”.

Mina snaps out of her trance. The spell shattered. A violent, warm blush exploded across her cheeks and raced to the tips of her ears. She tried hiding her face with her hands, but her shoulders shook with embarrassed laughter. She was caught.

Chaeyoung’s initial shock melted away. She looked from the hysterical group to Mina, who was clearly wanting to be eaten alive by the sofa. And then she gets it. A different kind of smile spreads on her face—softer, a little surprised, incredibly pleased. She didn’t look directly at Mina. Instead, she plays into it. She puffs out her chest jokingly and says, “Well, it seems that I am very… observe-worthy.” The silly word, delivered with a funny accent, sent everyone into a fresh wave of laughter.  She was blushing too, but deflected with humor.

Jihyo, wiping a tear from her eye, finally regained control. “Okay, okay! The Mafia wins this round because Detective Mina was too busy… investigating the wrong suspect!”

The game eventually continued, but the phrase hangs in the air, now a brand new addition to the group inside jokes. For the rest of the night, every time Chaeyoung speaks, someone will whisper, "Mina, are you looking?" and send everyone into giggles again.

Chapter Text

Under The Spotlights:

The makeup room was always too bright. Harsh lights surrounding the mirrors were the only thing that kept Mina from sleeping. She was slumped in the chair, perfectly still as a stylist worked on her hair, almost like she was being lulled by the gentle pull of the brush. In the chair beside her was Chaeyoung, eyes closed as another stylist dusted shimmer across her eyelids.

It was a peaceful, sleepy silence. Until someone hurried in.

A manager approached, phone in hand. “Mina-ssi,” he said in a serious voice, but not too brushed. “Kim PD-nim needs you for the five-minute couch interview after the performance. Here are the talking points. Just be yourself.”

He handed her a single printed sheet and left without giving any further explanation.

Mina panics for a second, her eyes moving in several directions. The air thickened. She stared at the paper, but the words were blurred. Her name hadn’t been on that list. She’d prepared for a quick group greeting, not this. A scarily familiar dread began to pool in her stomach and a tight throat feeling started to appear.

Beside her, Chaeyoung’s eyes were open now. She was watching Mina’s reflection through the mirror—the slight part of her lips, the way her fingers tightened on the paper, crinkling it.

“Unnie?” Chaeyoung’s voice was soft.

Mina didn’t look up. She just gave an almost imperceptible shake of her head.

Chaeyoung tried to shift, but the stylist’s hands held her in place. “Hold still, Chaeyoung-ssi,” the woman chided gently. 

Unable to move, Chaeyoung did the only thing she could. She stretched her arm out, her fingers reaching across the gap between their chairs. She couldn’t quite reach Mina’s arm, so only her fingertips came to rest on the very edge of Mina’s sleeve, just a ghost of a touch.

“What’s it about?” Chaeyoung asked.

Mina’s voice sounded small and frustrated. “Just… the usual. ‘How do you feel about the comeback?’ ‘What’s your favorite track?’” She tried to formulate an answer in her head. Nothing came. “I’ll just… say it was good. That I like the title track.” She sighed defeated. “It’s so… boring. I’m boring.”

Chaeyoung’s fingers twitched against her sleeve. “Hey. No.” She thought for a second. “How do I feel about the comeback?” she repeated, putting on a grandiose and exaggerated voice. “I feel… like a caterpillar who finally became a butterfly… but the butterfly has legs and arms so is also a main dancer.”

A surprised, quiet puff of air escaped Mina’s nose. Not quite a laugh, but the tension in her shoulders eased a bit.

Emboldened, Chaeyoung continued, still keeping her silly voice. “My favorite track? Well, it’s obviously the B-side that’s actually about my secret love for… strawberry. It’s a metaphor. A very deep metaphor.”

This time, Mina did laugh—quiet, small, but real. Even the stylist working on her hair smiled down at the floor.

“See?” Chaeyoung said, her tone softening back to normal. “It doesn’t have to be hard. Just say whatever you want. They just want to see you smile.”

Mina looked up, finally meeting Chaeyoung’s eyes in the mirror. She took a breath and tried again, her voice a little stronger. “My favorite track is… ‘You In My Heart.’ It makes me feel like… like I’m on a spaceship. But a cozy one.”

Chaeyoung’s face broke into a wide, genuine grin. “Yes! A cozy spaceship! See, Unnie? You’re a genius. That’s a perfect answer.”

The two stylists exchanged a warm, knowing glance over their heads, saying nothing.

Twenty minutes later, they were huddled in the wings of the stage, watching the interview set. The atmosphere felt heavy. Mina fidgeted with the cuff of her jacket.

“Chaeng,” she whispered, her voice barely audible over the studio noise. “I’m nervous.”

Chaeyoung’s hand found hers in the shadows between them, giving it one quick but firm squeeze. “It’s okay. I’ll be right here for you.”

On stage, under everyone's stare, Mina answered the questions. Her voice was quiet at first, but then she remembered the cozy spaceship. She mentioned it. The host laughed. As well as the audience. They asked her to elaborate. And Mina did. She expanded. Her sentences, while still soft, were full and complete.

Off-camera, leaning against the monitor was Chaeyoung watching with rapt attention. A staff member next to her chuckled at something Mina said.

“Oh,” Chaeyoung breathed, her voice full of wonder, not to the staff members but to herself. “So beautiful.”

She pulled out her phone, ignored all the notifications and quickly opened the camera. She zoomed in on Mina’s serene and glowing face, under the lights, and took a picture. Then another. “So pretty,” she murmured to the screen. “So pretty!”

When Mina walked offstage, the adrenaline was still buzzing in her veins. Her cheeks were flushed. The first person she saw was Chaeyoung, beaming at her, already clapping with the staff.

“You did it!” Chaeyoung said, stepping forward.

Mina didn’t stop. She walked straight into Chaeyoung’s space and wrapped her arms around her in a swift hug, burying her face in her shoulder for just a second. “Unnie, you were so pretty up there!” Chaeyoung said brightly, her own arms coming up to hold her.

“Really?” Mina said, still nervous.

“Really! You were amazing! You did so great!” Chaeyoung’s hands patted her back, warm and proud. Then pulled back just enough to look at her with shining eyes. “You look like the most beautiful girl in the world, Unnie. You did great.”

For two seconds, they just stood there, smiling at each other, breathless and happy, with staff smiling faintly around them.

Chapter Text

STAGE 2: 

It arrives quietly, 

a pause too long, 

a thought that lingers past reason. 

Something still unnamed begins to take shape,

and the heart pretends not to notice. 

It's Awakening Love.

The Van Ride Home:

The van was quiet and dark inside. The only light came from the passing streetlights, sweeping through the interior in slow, rhythmic flashes. In each brief illumination, Mina could see her exhausted members, everyone sleeping as best as they could in the cramped van. Jihyo was slumped against the window, Momo was a quiet bundle in the middle row.

Mina felt the tiredness deep in her bones. She leaned her own head against the cool glass, watching the city blur past. In the seat beside her, Chaeyoung was also sleeping, her neck barely keeping her head from falling, her beanie pulled low.

Then, a bump in the road. A jolt.

Chaeyoung, unmoored by sleep, slid sideways. Her head landed softly on Mina’s shoulder.

The contact was like a spark in the dark.

Mina froze.

Every muscle in her body locked. Her breath hitched in her throat. The weight of Chaeyoung’s head was suddenly the only thing in the universe. She could feel the texture of the younger’s beanie, the soft strands of hair tickling her neck. Each of Chaeyoung’s exhales were warm with a steady rhythm against her collarbone.

Mina stared straight ahead, just seeing the darkness. She didn’t dare move.

A minute passed. Maybe a bit more. Then, Chaeyoung stirred. A soft, sleep-filled murmur. She didn’t jolt away. Instead, she also went perfectly still. Awake. She’d realized where she was.

Mina could feel the new tension in the small body beside her. Chaeyoung was holding her breath too.

Slowly and insecure, Chaeyoung began to lift her head. It was a silent question. Should I move?

And in that moment, Mina made a choice.

Instead of letting her go, Mina relaxed. She released the tension in her shoulder, subtly shifting her posture, even molding herself into a better pillow. It was an answer. Stay.

A silent sigh escaped Chaeyoung. Her head settled back down, heavier this time. Accepting.

At the same time, heartened, Mina let her own head tilt, resting it gently on top of Chaeyoung’s beanie.

The rest that followed was different. No longer charged with unsettled sleep, but filled with something new, something warm and it felt right. 

The van drove on through the night, carrying them and their silence. Two weary souls had found a place to rest.

Chapter Text

The Lyric Notebook:

The recording booth light glowed red in the next room. Meanwhile, in the waiting room, Chaeyoung sat cross-legged on the couch, notebook open across her lap, pencil flying across the page. Lyrics were scratched out, replaced, circled. She was humming the melody under her breath to test the rhythm. A manager had said the review was right after her recording session. She was running out of time.

While warming up her voice, her hand drifted to the corner of the page. A habit. Almost unconsciously, her pencil started to sketch a cute penguin. Then, beside it, a small tiger. She fell silent, the pencil hovering.

Chaeyoung paused, tightening her grip on the pencil. After a second, she slowly and carefully, curved a faint heart around them both. It was barely noticeable.

The door clicked open. Mina slipped in, her own recording session finished. “Hey,” she whispered, spotting Chaeyoung. She went to the table to start gathering her things.

“How’d it go?” Chaeyoung asked, not looking up from her notebook.

Mina sighed, leaning against the table. “A difficult line. I had to do it a dozen times. Sorry you have to wait so long.” Her eyes fell on the open notebook. “How are the lyrics going?”

“Getting there,” Chaeyoung said, putting her book away. “First revision is today, after I record.” They were given very few opportunities to contribute so directly to the music production, so when Chaeyoung was authorized to write the lyrics for a song, she wanted to give it her all. Make every detail meaningful. 

Chaeyoung finally looked up, she hesitated, then leaned forward a little. “Actually… Can I ask you a favor?”

“Hm?”

“This song… it’s going to have a little narration at the beginning. I want you to do it”

Mina’s eyebrows shot up. “Narration? Alone? But… Nayeon-unnie is better at those things.”

“It’s in English,” Chaeyoung looked at her notebook. “And you’re the most fluent of all of us.”

Mina gave her a flat look. “Chaeyoung. You know I’m not fluent either.”

The door opened again. A manager poked his head in. “Chaeyoung-ssi, you’re up.”

“Coming!” Chaeyoung shot to her feet, grabbing her water bottle. On instinct, she caught Mina’s hands, giving her an earnest squeeze. “Please, Unnie. I know you’ll do well.”

Mina looked down at their joined hands, then back at Chaeyoung’s pleading face. Her hands tighten just a fraction. She relented. “...Fine. I’ll try.”

“Thanks.” Chaeyoung’s grin was bright while she hurried out. “I’ll mention you today at the lyrics meeting!” Then she slipped past the door, jogging down the hall.

The room was silent again and Mina just stood there for a moment. Her gaze drifted to the notebook left on the couch. She could take a look at the words she’d have to speak.

She hesitated, but curiosity pulled her forward, so she reached for it.

Mina flipped a few pages, looking for the lyrics. Chaeyoung’s effort and commitment was evident. Scribbled lines of lyrics, half-finished, notes in the margins. And there—smal, almost hidden—a penguin, a tiger, and a subtle heart around them. 

Her breath caught. Just for a split second.

She didn’t smile. Her expression was unreadable and her gaze stayed locked on the tiny drawing. Her hand moved almost on its own, reaching for the abandoned pencil. 

She didn’t draw another heart. She didn’t erase it.

Instead, she carefully, meticulously, began to shade the heart. Pressing the lead into the paper, making the lines bold, the shape solid and dark. It was no longer faint, but solid. Seen. It was an acknowledgment.

She closed the notebook, a small smile touching her lips as she left.

An hour later, Chaeyoung sat in the conference room, her lyrics notebook open before her. Composers and lyricists discussed melody and syllable count. When it was her turn, she explained her choices and ideas with a steady voice. She was completely absorbed.

“—the theme of freedom and fearlessness is coming through well, Chaeyoung-ssi,” one of the senior lyricists said.

Chaeyoung nodded proudly. She flipped a page, her eyes dropping to the margin. And she saw it.

The heart was darker. Like a permanent fact.

She stilled. Her finger traced the now-solid shape as she smiled slightly. She looked up, a new certainty in her eyes.

“Actually,” she said, her voice cutting through the discussion. “I’d like to suggest Mina-unnie to do the narration at the beginning.”

“Mina-ssi? Why her?”

“Her voice,” Chaeyoung looked down to organize her thoughts. “Even before deciding on the lyrics, I had it crystal clear, Mina-unnie had to do the narration.” She looked up again to face the producers. “She has the right tone,” Chaeyoung continued, voice gaining momentum. “Her voice is soft, but not weak. Sweet, but with weight. It’s clear…calming, but it commands attention. It’s the exact feeling I want at the beginning of the song.”

Silence, then a few nods. Someone scribbled a note.

“Alright. Mina, then.”

And the discussion moved on.

Chaeyoung sat back, her hand resting on her notebook, right over the shaded heart. She felt a profound satisfaction settled in her chest.

Something had been reciprocated today.

Chapter Text

An Unchoreographed Moment:

Preparations for a new tour were always like this: the rehearsal hall was never still.

The stage floor trembled under the constant shuffle of sneakers and boots, the panels groaning each time someone tested the moving platforms. Staff voices rose and fell over the blare of half-muted backing tracks: “Lighting cue, bar twenty four!” “Screen test—reboot it!” The backup dancers practiced their positioning on the large stage. Technicians crouched over laptops, muttering about confetti and sound checks.

Everywhere Mina looked, something was in motion: someone waving arms, pointing, dragging equipment, clapping out tempo. Even in breaks, the air seemed to vibrate.

Chaeyoung dropped onto the floor with a soft thud. Her knees ached from hours of repetition, and she was too out of breath to even look for a chair.

Mina noticed her younger member sitting on the floor, her small frame curled in on itself. Before she could think, her body was already moving toward her. She came to a stop behind her, hands settling on the tense curve of Chaeyoung’s shoulders, pressing down gently as if to give a massage.

Chaeyoung’s head went back to see who it was, and when her tired eyes saw Mina, she reached up quickly. Her own hands grabbed Mina’s, pressing them more firmly into her shoulders.

“Unnie.” She closed her eyes and let out a dramatic groan, almost childlike. “It’s hard!”

Mina’s heart melted, the last of her strength slipping away. Her knees buckled gently, and she folded down, chest against Chaeyoung’s back, her chin resting in the hollow of her shoulder. Warmth seeped through both their practice clothes.

“I know,” she breathed into the space between collar and neck. “I’m tired, too.”

Mina’s arms naturally slipped around Chaeyoung’s waist, and the younger one rested her hands on Mina’s forearms in response. They swayed together in silence, forgetting they were in the middle of chaos. 

One—two—three seconds.

Mina was the one to break, pulling her arms back as if the contact had suddenly grown too warm. At the exact same moment, Chaeyoung’s grip fell away. 

Mina tilted her head up, her gaze focusing on a group of dancers. “That move is driving me crazy.”

Chaeyoung chuckled, already realizing what move Mina was referring to. “Jeongyeon-unnie always messes that one up.”

Mina backed up a little, finally putting a few inches of space between them. “The change in tempo made it confusing,” she admitted. “I had a small breakdown yesterday while practicing it.” Mina was staring at the floor.

The last part was almost a whisper, but Chaeyoung caught it and turned immediately. “Unnie.” Her voice was pure honey, soft and sweet. She reached up, gently running her finger through Mina’s hair. “You don't have to be so hard on yourself.”

“At least I got it right today,” Mina said almost defensively as she let herself drift forward, closing the gap she’d made.

Chaeyoung began patting Mina’s head softly. Now they were both facing forward. “You did great, Unnie.” A pause, then softer: “You always do great.”

Mina let her chin sink back into Chaeyoung’s shoulder. The latter held perfectly still, afraid to shatter the moment.

The silence that fell was like an invitation for Mina to start moving her hands. They slid slowly from Chaeyoung’s forearms, over the curve of her hips, and came to rest, palms flat, on her thighs.

The contact felt like an electric jolt. Chaeyoung’s breath caught, but she forced herself to stay loose, to act as if it were the most natural thing in the world.

 One—two—three—

And before Mina could pull her hands away, Chaeyoung placed her own gently on top of them. A soft weight, like sending a silent approval.

One—two—three seconds. 

“Look, they’re bringing the confetti cannons.” Chaeyoung pointed to a technician positioning some heavy drawers. Snapping back to attention, Mina drummed her fingers once on Chaeyoung’s thighs before pulling them away and creating space between them.

“I have to memorize the timing for that,” Mina said, her voice impressively steady. “If that thing goes off in my face, I’m going to yell right into the mic.”

A soft puff escaped from Chaeyoung. “Me too,” Then she turned a little to face Mina, her smile widening. “Did you see the face Nayeon-unnie made when she got scared last time?”

They both laughed a little too bright remembering the incident that happened in one of their last performances. “She looked like a startled frog!” Their voices were a notch too loud.

When the laughter died down, Mina added a little reflection. “I actually like the confetti explosion, it encourages me to give my all until the very last song. It looks beautiful from the stage. It reminds me why I chose this path.”

Chaeyoung hummed in agreement. Both of them went back to their positions. Chest pressed to back, chin resting on a shoulder, their hands reunited. 

The silence stretched once more.

Emboldened, Chaeyoung’s thumb began to trace slow, absent-minded circles on the back of Mina’s hand.

In response, Mina’s fingers twitched. Then, they slowly turned over, palm up, an open invitation in the space between them.

Chaeyoung’s heart hammered against her ribs. Her fingers instinctively laced through Mina’s, slotting into the spaces as if made for them. 

The air grew heavy, charged, almost frightening in its intimacy. But they both tried hard to pretend everything was casual.

So, she didn’t let go. Chaeyoung transformed the touch. She started to move their clasped hands, swinging them in a gentle and silly arc, making their arms sway like a metronome set to a slow song. 

One—two—three—four—

A sudden burst from the hall’s microphone system. “Main lineup, back on stage! We’ll run it once more from the opening number.”

The bubble popped, but neither of them flinched or pulled away too quickly. 

Chaeyoung gave Mina’s fingers an almost imperceptible squeeze before letting go. “Let’s go.” Mina hummed in agreement and they loosened their grip.

Chaeyoung pushed herself up first, then immediately turned, offering a hand to Mina. It was a courteous, normal thing to do.

Mina took it, her grip firm but brief. The moment she was on her feet, their hands fell apart.

The cold was immediate.

A rush of air-conditioned air hit them, already highlighting the warmth the other had left behind, leaving a hollow ache.

Mina rubbed her palms against her pants, as if trying to erase the lingering heat of Chaeyoung’s skin.

“My legs are asleep,” Chaeyoung mumbled, stretching with a forced groan, a perfect excuse for any odd behavior.

“Mine too,” Mina agreed, bending to touch her toes, hiding her face.

They avoided each other’s eyes as they walked side by side, though with a careful distance, back to the stage.

And it was always like this.

Each time, the touches came like accidents, dismissed with laughter, covered with excuses. Yet every time, they lingered—just enough to prove that both of them wanted it. Long enough to make their chests tight when it ended.

Chapter Text

The Graceful Act:

Mina adjusted her purse before pushing open the door to Studio C. She was late. A last minute request had come in asking her to help record a demo for a new Japanese ballad. Not an official track yet, just something the composers wanted to test.

She’d come straight from a photoshoot: hair still damp from the stylist’s spray, makeup intact and highlighting her natural beauty, body half running on coffee.

As soon as she stepped in, she could hear overlapping laughter spilling out. The song’s director, the composer, and one of their regular producers were clustered around the mixing console, grinning. And one laugh she’d know anywhere:

Chaeyoung’s.

The tension in her own shoulders eased, and Mina let a gentle smile bloom.

Open Iced Americano cups and half-eaten bags of snacks made the place look a bit of a mess. Screens displayed soundwaves and a recording timeline, and printed sheets of lyrics were scattered across the table.

“What’s going on?” Mina asked, now making sure everyone noticed her.

“Unnie!” Chaeyoung shot up from the couch, her face alight with glee. She darted over, looping her arm through Mina’s and pulling her into the center of the room. “Here she is! Finally! Now you have to let me go!”

The room burst into another round of laughter.

Mina’s brows furrowed; she tried to smile, but confusion won out.

The producer shook his head and lifted his arm, signaling he was ready to explain. 

“Mina-ssi, we were starting to think you’d stood us up. We told Chaeyoung she couldn’t leave until you came.”

“Unnie, they kidnapped me!” Chaeyoung said, pretending to look scandalized.

“You’re free now, Chaeyoung-ssi,” the director chuckled.

While Chaeyoung immediately began gathering her things, Mina caught her eye. “What were you doing here in the first place?” she asked, hiding a small smile. According to their schedules, their paths weren’t supposed to cross today. Now that she thought about it, they hadn’t seen each other in a week.

“She said she wanted to surprise you,” the director explained, chuckling. “Came by out of curiosity.” He handed her an open bag of her favorite chips. “She wanted to give you these.”

Mina was visibly taken aback, but she was also blushing faintly.

“She came in, couldn’t find you, and tried to make a run for it.” Someone added. “Since you weren’t here yet, we caught her and made her try a few takes in your place.”

The laughter rose again. Chaeyoung was now pointedly studying the pattern on the carpet, her own ears tinged with pink.

“Oh,” Mina said, a playful feint. “So it’s all recorded already? You don’t need me?” She made a move to turn back toward the door.

A chorus of “No!” and “Wait!” stopped her.

They explained that while Chaeyoung’s voice had a nice tone for this ballad, the session had devolved into a pronunciation comedy hour. They’d spent more time laughing and correcting Chaeyoung’s improvised Japanese than actually recording.

“Unnie!” Chaeyoung groaned, pouting. “They were all making fun of my pronunciation”

Mina let out a soft laugh. It was a fond sound that came out almost before she realized it. “I’m sure it wasn’t that bad.”

“Then you haven’t heard it,” the composer said playfully. 

The producer clapped and settled into his seat, indicating that they had to get back to work. “Chaeyoung-ssi, I know we said we’d release you when Mina-ssi arrived, but can you stay a little longer?” 

Chaeyoung froze mid-motion, halfway through slipping her jacket back on. “Ah— I mean, I do have a schedule later, but…” she glanced at Mina, then smiled. “I can stay a few more minutes.”

“Perfect,” He turned to Mina. “She understands the feeling we’re going for. She can help you warm up while we get the levels set.”

“Actually,” the director added, a thoughtful look on his face. “Why don’t you both go in? Your voices complement each other well. Chaeyoung-ssi, you can do the guide—hum the harmony on the parts you can’t pronounce. It’ll help set the atmosphere.”

Mina nodded, still amused, still a little dazed by how casually everything had unfolded. She followed the younger girl into the recording booth. 

Chaeyoung handed her the headphones, put the chair in place and adjusted the microphone so Mina could sit comfortably. Then repeated the process for herself, fussing with the stand until everything was just right. And finally, the heavy door of the recording booth closed, muting the world outside.

The “RECORDING” light turned red. 

Mina hummed a note to test her mic. She began vocal warm-up and moved through an ascending scale, her tone perfectly smooth. Chaeyoung watched, nodded seriously… and then joined in, trying to harmonize.

It went horribly wrong.

Mina stopped mid-note and burst into a quiet laugh. “What—was that?”

“Harmony,” Chaeyoung said with confidence. “Experimental.”

“Mm.” Mina shook her head, a smile playing on her lips. “Dissonant.”

Chaeyoung gasped. “Unnie, that was art!”

“You mean out of tune.”

“Experimental noise.”

The composer’s voice filled their headphones, telling them to start in the first verse. So they began. Mina sang the opening line, her voice as sweet as the melody. Chaeyoung joined a beat behind but confident. Then, on a tender line, Chaeyoung mangled a vowel.

Mina pressed her lips together, a futile effort to contain the laugh bubbling in her chest.

“Chaeyoung-ssi,” the composer’s voice crackled through the headphones, patient and amused. “It’s kokoro, not kokuru. Try again?”

Chaeyoung straightened her back. She cleared her throat, her expression was all focused. “Ko. Ko. Ro.” She pronounced each syllable with exaggerated precision, lips round and serious.

It was too much. Mina dropped her head, her shoulders shaking with silent laughter.

“Unnie!” Chaeyoung protested.

“Sorry—just…” Mina looked up, her eyes still smiling. “Cute. Your Japanese is cute, Chaeyoung-ah.”

Chaeyoung groaned and hid behind her lyric sheet. “You’re so mean.” But her mouth betrayed her and a grin snuck through. 

They took some other takes and eventually they told them to wait some minutes as levels were adjusted outside. They leaned in close over the same sheet of music, their shoulders brushing. Mina traced the melody with her finger; Chaeyoung’s finger followed alongside, she was mirroring everything the older girl was doing.

Mina began marking the sheet with dynamics—“softer here,” “crescendo”. Chaeyoung leaned closer too, pretending to read. When Mina turned away for a second, Chaeyoung quickly doodled a tiny nerd emoji.

Mina blinked at it, then picked up her pencil ready for revenge. She drew a squinting face with tongue out next to Chaeyoung’s pronunciation notes.

“Yah, that’s mocking.” Chaeyoung whispered.

“You started it.”

"Not true, I just left a nice motivational drawing..." Chaeyoung reached out to draw something again, but Mina stopped her by trying to draw first.

Laughter spilled easily between them as they fought to keep each other from drawing over the other’s notes. Finally, they both gave up when seeing the mess they made to their sheet music.

They bumped shoulders gently, neither pulling away.

“You know, I feel this line would fit Jihyo well”. Mina said eventually while tracing a sentence.

“You notice too? I feel like she would sing it like—” Chaeyoung sang the line with a powerful voice, adding an over-the-top vibrato and dramatic flair.

Mina laughed immediately. One hand covering her mouth and the other slapping Chaeyoung's arm.

“And this—” Chaeyoung switched tones. She belted the line an octave higher, eyes squeezed shut mimicking Nayeon’s high pitch. “..this is Nayeon-unnie’s ad-libs.”

“Stop—” Mina half-pushed her shoulder, still laughing, almost leaning into her. “You’ll get us in trouble.” Both of them were laughing uncontrollably.

The laughter faded, leaving them close, shoulders barely apart. Mina looked down at their defaced papers; Chaeyoung looked at her.

A heartbeat of silence. The air shifted, warm and still.

The composer signaled through the glass. “Alright,” his voice came through the headphones. “Let’s go to the bridge. You know the feeling: tender and soft.”

They both straightened at once.

“Just Mina this time.” The director clarified.

Mina nodded, already changing her demeanor to professional. She took a slow breath, closing her eyes as the instrumental track swelled in her headphones.

Chaeyoung, still beside her, lowered her eyes to the lyric sheet. 

Mina waited for her cue. When it came, her voice was sweeter than anything.

Chaeyoung looked up. And then she simply… stopped.

Mina’s eyes were closed, her entire being poured into the melody. Her brow was faintly furrowed with emotion, her lips shaping the words with a delicate precision. One hand rose tracing the melody in the air. So graceful.

Chaeyoung was so immersed that she caught a scent she hadn't noticed before. Jasmine perfume. Not too strong. Tender. Healing. Combined with the heartbreaking softness of Mina’s voice, it was an overwhelming rush of sweetness.

Chaeyoung’s breath stilled.

Mina held the final note and let it fade. When she opened her eyes, the first thing she saw was Chaeyoung staring at her: lips parted, eyes wide, caught mid-thought.

Chaeyoung let out an embarrassed laugh at being caught. She covered her mouth with her hand. “So girly, really,” she managed to say. “Impressive.”

Mina laughed too. “That was good?”

“It was really good.” Chaeyoung’s words came out faster than she meant them to.

“That was perfect, Mina-ssi. Give us a few seconds, we’re reviewing the take.”

A moment of calm. The red recording light turned off.

Chaeyoung laughed again. She seemed to remember the way she’d been staring. “You really looked girly, unnie.”

“Really?”

“I was surprised, I—”

“Did you fall in love?”

“Yes…”

“Oh—” 

“Oh—I can’t do that.” 

They both forced a laugh.

For a heartbeat, neither moved. A fragile silence was trembling between them.

Mina’s gaze dropped to the floor. Chaeyoung straightened up, turning robotically toward the music stand. She began smoothing out the already-flat sheet of paper with the side of her hand, over and over. Mina picked up her water bottle and placed it down again, two centimeters to the left. Chaeyoung adjusted the height of the music stand, though it was already perfect. Mina lowered her microphone, then raised it back to the exact same position.

A sharp knock on the booth window made them both jump. A staff member pointed at Chaeyoung and mimed a phone to his ear.

“Chaeyoung-ssi, your manager is here. Your A&R meeting got moved up. They’re waiting for you now.”

“Right! I have to go, unnie.” Chaeyoung said as she snatched up her water bottle.

“Mmm, take care!” Mina replied.

Chaeyoung slipped out the booth door, immediately surrounded by two managers, one holding a tablet in front of her. She was already nodding, then talking, her smile professional again.

The director’s voice returned to Mina’s headphones. “Mina-ssi, do you have something after this?”

“I do,” she said, her voice perfectly calm. “A few things.”

“Okay, let’s try to finish this quickly.”

The night was late, but work continued.