june .

you like being the secretary. no, really. you consider yourself as an avid note-taker, and organizing things is one of your fortes.

being the stuco secretary meant that you didn't have to be the face of stuco. that's fuko, the president. see, fuko is a lovely president. she's pretty, she excels at her job, gets along with everyone, and so on.

of course, you admire fuko. so does practically the whole student body.

...it also meant that when she fell ill and asked (texted) you to fill in for her, you readily accepted.

it's not like you're shy or anything. it's quite the opposite. you just didn't like being in the spotlight. talking to others is fine, but being in the center of attention? yeah, that's a no-go.

so, here you are, tiredly holding up a paper script as you prepare to bore everyone with nothing but the usual reminders to clean up after themselves at eight in the morning.

...just kidding!

as soon as the clock strikes eight, you clear your throat and turn the intercom on. you even fix your hair, even though no one else is in the room except the vice-president mai, who sends you an encouraging thumbs up.

"good morning everyone! i'm y/n, your student council secretary. fuko-unnie is out sick, so i'll be taking over until she's back," you read out, eyes trailing over the next lines. mai smiles proudly at you, and you reciprocate the gesture.

you go over the usual mundane reminders (such as picking up your trash, and the assembly at the end of the week) and finally get to something interesting.

"onto something more exciting, the fall festival is at the end of next month!" you say enthusiastically, at least as much as you could in the hellish hours of the morning, "food, games, performances, you got it! club officers, please submit a filled out booth form or performance form to the student council office at least two weeks before the date."

flipping to the next page expecting to see the outro lines, you're surprised to see something completely different. confused, but still needing to read the script, you squint at the printed words on the last page. "lastly, we're launching a new program for the daily announcements: anonymous confessions."

mai makes brisk strides towards you, slipping a paper envelope onto the desk, sheepishly tapping on it and tilting her head. you open it, continuing the announcement. "we've received a few submissions since the initial announcement which was posted on our instagram page, and today we're reading the first one."

the first thing you notice is the neat handwriting printed on the lined sheet of notebook paper. you clear your throat again, blinking your eyes rapidly to try to focus on the words.

"dear y/n,

i've thought about what to say in this confession, but i can't seem to find the right words.

i really, really like you! i've liked you since last year. you've just got this way about you that draws me in—your smile, your laugh, the care that leaks into each of your actions, your music taste... everything, actually.

whenever you look at me or talk to me, i feel like my heart is going to burst. i admire you a lot. even if you don't like me back, i hope we can stay friends!

your admirer,

j.m."

the further you get into the letter, the more you feel your face burning, from your neck up to your ears. mai's jaw is slacked, and honestly, so is yours. it's one thing to confess over the daily announcements. its another for it to be addressed to the one announcing it.

"u-um, wow! thank you, anonymous!" you cough, "i'm... flattered? a-anyway, that's it for the announcements. have a good rest of your day!"

as soon as you hit the 'stop' button on the control panel, you slump over the desk and harshly bump your head in the process. the vice-president sympathetically pats your back and leaves you alone in the room.

however, there's only one thing swimming around in your mind. obviously, it's 'who is j.m.?' and 'why me?'

you don't think you're going to hear the end of it from your friends.

"hey, lovergirl." is what you hear the second you're close enough to your usual lunch table. you smack jiyoon's shoulder as you sit down next to her with your food, greeting sarang and jungeun across from you with a smile.

jiyoon's got her assortment of foods laid out on the table, the younger two already helping themselves. she insists that her family just makes her bring all the food, but you can tell she's all the more happy to share with you.

"who do you think it is, y/n-unnie?" sarang asks after taking a sip of her drink.

who do you think it is? you've seriously got no clue. you tell her exactly that, and the conversation launches into a full-blown guessing game.

"jiwoo?" jungeun starts, "no, wait, the letter said j.m. right?"

sarang rests her chin on her palm, humming. "jimin?"

"she graduated already," jiyoon states with a straight face.

jungeun giggles, covering her mouth with her hand. "then could it be you, jiyoon-unnie?"

"don't!" the targeted girl turns beet red in embarrassment. "don't be ridiculous. plus, it's j-m not j-y."

you're halfway through with your lunch, almost tuning the other girls out. there's only one person who matches the intials that you can think of. but it's impossible, you haven't even held a proper conversation with her since maybe last year.

sarang slumps over and tilts her head up, pouting at you from below. you resist the urge to either a) pinch her cheeks or b) initiate a staring contest, to which you'll lose, because she always cheats without fail.

"do you have any clues?"

a voice calls out for you before you could answer the younger girl. "hey lovergirl!"

three girls approach your table. mai, who casually waves at you, koko, who greeted you, and jeemin.

jeemin. j.m. but it could just be a coincidence, right?

"stop calling me that," you wave at the three. mai nudges koko, who only grins. "and hi, what brings you guys here?"

you and your friends scooch over to make room for them, koko and mai sitting opposite of you and jeemin taking the only available seat which is right next to you. the rest of jiyoon's food is silently distributed to the newcomers.

lunch continues but you can't help but notice that jeemin is avoiding your eyes. she also hasn't said a single word to you, which is weird and frankly, and out of character for her. usually she'd at least manage a 'hello'.

you reach over and pinch her arm, eliciting a flinch from her and a startled yelp. her voice after comes out in a whisper. "w-what?"

"are you okay?"

"yeah."

she quickly turns back to her food, shoveling some rice into her mouth. unfortunately, she also starts choking, which causes mai to rush to give her a waterbottle, and for everyone at the table to start staring at her.

the girl catches her breath after taking in some water and shakily raises up a thumb, as if she hadn't almost died from eating too fast.

the rest of lunch up until the end, you notice out of the corner of your eye that jeemin is not-so-subtly giving you puppy-eyes. it's so obvious that even jiyoon raises a brow whenever she looks in your direction. and you can clearly see sarang whispering about it to jungeun, indirectly pointing with her chin.

suddenly, you think your suspicions aren't quite off. they are very correct. she's definitely suspicious. jeemin, that is.

the next few days consist of your regular schedule, except now you have what is essentially a sixth sense for whenever jeemin is around. it's easy to tell, really; she's always burning holes into your back with her puppy-dog eyes.

last year, you and jeemin were seatmates in homeroom. sorta. you sat in front of her for the whole year, in the back of the class next to the window. a classic main character seating. the girl was shy, sure. but that initial barrier had been broken down as soon as you offered to share some of your matcha pocky with her.

during the year, you'd share more of your snacks, and sometimes she would also bring her own to share. you'd discreetly pass notes back and forth, whether it'd be about whatever the teacher was talking about or random things like the new milkis flavor or whatever.

on some occasions, whenever there was a break, you'd sit against the back wall of the classroom and listen to music together. at first it was uncomfortable to move around while sharing earbuds, but the both of you had grown used to it. it was like a fleeting getaway—no one bothered you. a brief period of relaxation.

you wouldn't exactly call her a close friend; you almost never hung out outside of class. but it was a cherished connection, for sure. after the school year ended, you naturally grew apart since you never got any of her socials. but before the earlier confession announcement, you would wave and maybe exchange a greeting whenever you'd see each other.

jeemin's shyness never went away, even now as she avoids interactions but looks like she wants to talk to you so badly it might kill her.

so yeah, you're 90% sure that jeemin is the sender of the letter. it's a bit shocking, you've always thought that she's cute but you didn't think that the time you spent together was enough to develop any feelings. at least for you. you aren't one for crushes; they were probably at the bottom of your priorities when it comes to your life. but... they're not unwelcome.

that only half-explains why you're waiting outside of the performing arts room after finishing up some student council work. you didn't have to wait long; some of the other members took on fuko's work and told you to go home a bit earlier. it also just so happens to be around the time dance club's practice usually ended.

you're mindlessly scrolling through your instagram feed when the door swings open. and speak of the devil—it's jeemin, in the flesh! though she doesn't notice you yet because she's still looking behind her telling someone to shut up.

when she turns to face forward, her expression shifts into what seems to be a mix of shock and mortification. her mouth opens and closes as if she were a fish. "oh! y-y/n, fancy seeing you here!"

through the open door behind her, you can see everyone trying their best not to laugh, including koko and even mai. you flash a closed-mouth smile. "hey, jeemin."

the girl stammers before letting out a very awkward, "wassup...?"

you stifle a giggle, but widen your eyes in concern when you hear a thump. you can barely see koko and sarang dying in laughter before jeemin abruptly slams the door shut.

"what's! up," she asks, leaning against the door.

her smile is forced and her eye is twitching, it'd be cute if you didn't have something to ask of her. oh well. "do you wanna hang out? we've never hung out outside of school, i was thinking we could get some ice cream or whatever you're up for."

there's no answer, but she is turning into a whole tomato with how hard she's blushing.

"jeemin?"

"yes!" she replies quickly, before blinking rapidly and fixing her practice clothes. she's probably going to say something about changing back to her uniform before accepting your offer.

jeemin reaches behind her for the doorknob, still facing you. "i mean—yeah! yeah, i'm free. i just need to, uh, change out of my practice clothes sorryjustgivemeasec—" see? what did you say?

she twists the doorknob and pulls the door open and back, but what's unexpected is your very own ryu sarang tumbling out like a prize from a gachapon machine. why is the practice room door double-action? also, sarang?

both you and jeemin are staring at the younger girl in confusion. said girl scratches her head and gets up like nothing happened, enveloping you in a big, warm hug. "hi unnie! i missed you..."

you're taken aback, but you return the hug. "hi sarangie, we just saw each other earlier."

jeemin glances at you and sarang still hugging with a slight look of resignation, and shuffles back into the practice room to get her bag and change somewhere.

"are you okay?" you mumble, fingers carding through sarang's hair. you feel her nod, and pull away when jeemin returns. "i'll see you tomorrow, yeah?"

"mhm, see you. have fun on your date jeemin-unnie, y/n-unnie!" the younger girl waves and skips back into the room.

the door shuts again and the taller girl is avoiding your gaze. that won't do, will it? you tap her shoulder and grin up at her, not missing the tinge of red settling across her cheeks and coloring her ears. "ready?"

"mhm, yeah. totally. ice cream?"

"ice cream," you nod.

ice cream it is.

you find yourself making this—stopping by the dance club after you finish your work—a regular thing. if there wasn't any practice, you'd wait outside of her homeroom and pick up jeemin to head off to wherever the wind takes you.

so far, you've taken jeemin to the local ice cream parlor, the park, a bakery, and other classic date spots. and on top of that, enjoyed a very nice weekend going bowling and watching her try to impress you in front of mai and jiyoon. the poor girl had tripped over her feet in an attempt to bowl a strike like she planned, but ultimately landing her ball in the gutter.

today is a regular weekday, nothing out of the ordinary. fuko has, thankfully, recovered from her sickness and lifted the task of morning announcements off of your shoulders. during your brief time as the announcer, there hasn't been any other love confessions, but more boring ones that you can't even name off the top of your head.

truthfully, spending all this time with jeemin has undoubtedly changed your way of thinking. you notice all the little things about her, like the way she pokes her tongue against her cheek when she's lost in thought, or how sometimes she unconsciously lowers herself whenever you're side by side. at first it almost offended you, but it did make it easier for you to link your arm with hers.

the girl is still a little shy, but she's evolved to taking your hand in hers first! that's totally baby steps. maybe she'll even grow out of blushing and looking away after five seconds of eye contact. cute. she's now saved in your contacts as "j.m." followed by a bear emoji and a blue heart. and the contact photo is a candid photo you took of her petting a dog, enamored by the samoyed puppy. so cute.

you're organizing files after school while fuko and the treasurer look over some paperwork. there's a lot of planning needed for the upcoming festival—because of this, you had texted jeemin prior that you'd be late.

what you didn't expect is a knock on the door, revealing bang jeemin herself, freshly changed into her uniform.

"jeemin," you stand up from your seat. "what are you doing here?"

she perks up at the sight of you, but shrinks back when she meets the eyes of fuko and the other council member. "i, um. wanted to pick you up this time. i-if you're not busy, that is."

you purse your lips. you've already sorted through the majority of the files, but there is still a report to be written.

the president clears her throat, eyes softening when you peer over to her. "i can take care of the rest of your work, y/n. you know, as a thank you for doing mine while i was out."

"are you sure?" you frown. fuko has always been giving. a little too much, you might add. as the president, she has the most paperwork out of all of the council; you wouldn't want to add to that stack.

she waves her hand, practically shooing you away. "i'm sure. go have fun, lovergirl."

"unnie, please don't call me that. i've had enough of it already with everyone else."

fuko only giggles and winks at you as you pack up your things and walk over to where jeemin is stiffly standing. grabbing her hand and waving to you fellow student council members, you drag her out with her before she can scramble to bow to them.

"do you want to go anywhere in particular?" you swing your interlocked hands between the two of you playfully.

jeemin shakes her head, looking ahead. "i picked last time, so you should today."

internally, you swoon. so charming. so considerate. you never thought you'd be feeling this way for bang jeemin, the quiet girl that sat behind you. but a part of you feels guilty that you've been knowing she was behind the letter. and that she's unaware of that fact.

"can we go to the bookstore, then? i've finished a novel and i want to get the next part of the series."

"i..."

"hmm?" curiously, you glance at the taller girl, whose cheeks have dusted pink. "jeemin?"

she meets your gaze with an intense one of her own. "i don't mind the place as long as i'm with you..."

oh. that's new. that's not shy, timid jeemin. that's total heartthrob jeemin. oh. oh dear.

your heartbeat speeds up, and you just have cover your face with your free hand to hide the blush that is growing by the second.

"you're a dangerous woman, bang jeemin."

"huh!?"

the bookstore is a comforting place; it's quiet, there's a reading nook with fairy lights, and sometimes the owner brings their cat barbie, a calico who loves to waltz around the place.

occasionally, you stop by when you can't be bothered to order online. why? because it's always more fun to browse through the catalogue in person rather than amazon, right?

jeemin holds the glass door open for you like a gentlewoman, and you just have to curtsy as you walk in. the action makes her blush, so it's worth every second of your brief embarrassment. you hear a faint meow come from a distant corner of the bookstore and grin, crouching down to greet the cat.

"hi, barbie!" you coo, scratching behind its ears. jeemin stands statically by you, not knowing what to do. you giggle at the sight of her eyes darting around like she'd been caught or something. "jeemin, don't just stand there... you can pet her, she's friendly."

the taller girl sheepishly crouches down, hesitantly reaching out her hand to pet the feline. it sniffs her hand for a moment, but then pounces at her and launches a full-on attack: scratching, biting, the whole shebang. jeemin yelps in pain and shock, moving her arm away but unable to get the cat off.

you can only stare, speechless, before trying to pry away the cat away from the girl in distress. "barbie! barbie, no! i thought you loved everyone!"

the next few moments are spent wrangling a cat who absolutely abhors jeemin for some unknown reason. you swear it's friendly, barbie was the best! maybe jeemin has a cat repellent on her. or maybe she is the cat repellent.

so, yeah... the owner of the bookstore heard the commotion from the back and had to come in to take barbie away, apologizing profusely to both you and jeemin.

"i'm sorry," you sigh in guilt, sticking (ironically) barbie themed bandaids onto jeemin's wounds in the reading nook. "she really was friendly, she loves everyone who comes in, even jiyoon-unnie."

jeemin frowns. "i guess i'm an exception. you're not making fun of me by using barbie bandaids, are you?"

the question is so funny to you that you almost laugh out loud. "no, i'm not. i'm glamorizing your boo-boos."

the tips of the girl's ears tinge red. cute. "what's your novel about?"

a smooth topic change. "hm? oh, it's a thriller. it's about these five girls killing each other, but the illustrations are super cutesy."

"what?" as expected, she's taken aback. who wouldn't, at how casually you were describing it?

"er... you'll get it if you try it. it's an interesting read, made me gasp a few times. the next book is about them killing pizza men."

"um..."

"i think it's an acquired taste... do you feel better?"

you tap each bandaid that was meticulously placed on each scratch and wound, totaling to a whopping nine areas. jeemin gives a neutral response, clearly trying to act tough, but you go ahead and plant a kiss on each bandaid anyway.

"that surely cures your pain, don't you think?"

no response. you glance up at jeemin and, ah, yes! the tomato is back, unsurprisingly. you giggle and take her non-injured hand, standing up and leading her to the horror section of the store.

and of course, here's the thing: this specific series is uber popular. it's a hit or miss whether or not you can even find it in stock. you honestly didn't think you'd have a big chance of encountering it; it was mostly an excuse to bring the girl you've been growing a fondness for to one of your sanctuaries.

jeemin follows after you, staring in wonder at just how many books are stored and displayed neatly on the wooden shelves. there's a whole section dedicated to the red velvet series, the one you were talking about. you weren't really reading it in chronological order, which is off-brand of you because, and you cannot stress this enough, you love to be organized. unfortunately you discovered the series through a book that wasn't the initial release, so it can't be helped.

your eyes dart around, trying to match your mental image of the book you were looking for to any of the ones on the shelf. there's a lot. psycho, bad boy, russian roulette (the one you just finished), and more. but you can't seem to find... ah. peek-a-boo. and just your luck, it's on the very top section of the shelf. out of your reach.

it's humiliating to go on your tip-toes, straining your arm as you reach for the book, that is until you feel a presence from behind you, and seeing an arm easily grabbing the book you had your eyes on. turning around, you're faced with the view of jeemin's gray graphic tee, before looking up and meeting her bashful gaze. you're close. close enough that you could just lean in and kiss- okay, you're getting off-track.

your face flushes a deep red, and you step to the side in an attempt to hide yourself, clearing your throat. "thanks, jeemin."

"um, yeah. of course." the taller girl is as blushy as you, averting her eyes as she hands you the book that started this whole scene.

when the two of you check out and leave the establishment, there's only one thought echoing throughout your mind.

that is, bang jeemin is a dangerous woman.

it's a random day after school—a filler day as you like to call it—and you don't have anything planned with jeemin but you pick her up nonetheless. today's jeemin is a little more timid than usual. that's fine with you, of course, but you can't help but feel like your relationship has backpedalled.

even more so when she turns to you with a sad but very hopeful face, and says, and you quote: "i'm the one who wrote the letter."

well yeah, you know that already. and you tell her exactly that... maybe not exactly that. there's a lot of emotions you feel with this delicate topic, and you have to express those to her.

"i'm so sorry," you take her hands in yours, earnestly looking her in the eyes. "i already knew. just—just let me explain, okay?"

the girl looks confused, bewildered even. your guilt is eating you up whole. but your feelings are true; you're starting to like jeemin, in the way that she likes you. and you don't want her to think that you've been playing with her after receiving the letter.

"i've always thought you were cute, since the first day we met." you start, "but we'd never spent enough time together for me to develop any deeper feelings than that. you were more than a hallway crush, but less than a crush, you know?" you say all in one breath, hoping she doesn't take your own confession the wrong way.

you continue. "with all the time we've spent as of lately, i've gotten more than enough of the time for those feelings to bloom."

"oh."

oh. is all jeemin says. a good oh? a bad one? how are you supposed to know?

you won't get to know because she bites her bottom lip and walks away.

'damn it.' you curse in your head. 'you should've told her from the start, y/n. damn it.'

jeemin avoids you the entirety of the following day. you pretend it's not bothering you, but it's so painfully obvious to the others and yourself that it is affecting you. no texts back. no waves in the hallway. no visits during breaks. not even a single glance towards your table during lunch.

there's a jeemin-shaped hole shot through your heart, and it aches. if this is the result of no contact for a day, you think you're doomed.

you find yourself walking around campus with a glum aura surrounding you. jiyoon inconspicuously sends you pictures of puppies during class, hoping to silently cheer you up. which is silly, but you appreciate her efforts nonetheless.

after school, jungeun intercepts you on your feeble attempt to drag yourself to the dance club, and buys herself and you a strawberry milk from the vending machine near the school entrance. as thanks, you pat her head and walk her home, promising to treat her to a meal later.

and for the first time in a while, you're tossing and turning in bed. you didn't think jeemin had that much of an effect on you, but you stand corrected. it's kind of pathetic. you feel pathetic. not pathetic like jeemin after an intense workout, but pathetic like you can't live a day without her. and it has quite literally only been a day without her.

in your desperation to "catch some Z's" you hit up sarang. and sarang, oh so lovely sarang, sends you an hour long documentary about bears, which did not help.

(because admittedly, you watch the whole thing—beginning to end—and can only think about jeemin, the whole time.)

your one-day-hell abruptly ends during break when someone raps their knuckles against your desk, which consequently has you tearing your eyes away from your phone and up to the person—oh, it's jeemin.

oh. it's jeemin? (!) (!?)

"jeemin!" you stand up from your seat, wide-eyed and hands fumbling around to find a place to rest. they end up in your pockets, and you clear your throat of any phlegm before smiling. "hey."

"hey," she waves. the break is about the end, so she has to make whatever she's going to say quick. "our dance team is performing at the festival..."

you know that already. you are, in fact, the student council secretary, but you don't remind the dancer of that fact, waiting for her to continue.

jeemin looks down, mustering up all the courage she has. you can almost see it manifesting, what with how hard she's clenching her fists. "so, please watch me! i'll c-capture your heart with my charms!"

the statement is so ridiculous that you just have to laugh out loud. it sounds like it's straight out of a manga, the way she shouts it out loud for your whole class to hear. which by the way, is now staring at the two of you.

your laughter causes jeemin to shrink back (because who says that unironically?) but then you smile warmly at her.

"i promise i will."

and it's worth the embarrassment of having the whole class watch a part of your love life, because jeemin's face completely lights up and she flashes you the biggest smile you've ever seen her smile and runs off right before break ends.

the festival is in two weeks. and you're so looking forward to the dance club's performance.

recovered from the one-day-hell of jeemin deprivation, you're happily back to talking terms with the dancer. she's taken to staying behind longer to practice, which means you don't go out together for now. you don't take it personally, you've also been busy with secretarial duties.

sure, you're exhausted. but you know for a fact that the end product is absolutely going to be worth it, judging by the ones you've attended in the past. food stalls, various club attractions, and most of all the performances. seeing everyone's hard work come to fruition in person is amazing.

unfortunately, with everyone interested, it brings more work for the student council. budgets, club information, performance slots, booth availability, and more; every day feels like a marathon for your poor brain. after all of this is over, you'd really just like to take a giant nap.

mai's been juggling student council work and dance practice, keeping an even tighter schedule than before; there's more rigorous routines to perfect, and even more planning for the festival.

and speaking of the dance club, you've been pumped up ever since jeemin's corny declaration, looking forward to how she would charm her way into your heart. which, she already has, but knowing jeemin... she'll surpass your expectations in the best way possible.

sarang and saebi (another tall girl from dance club, who you don't talk to much but are acquainted with) catch you as you walk out of the student council room. they're in their practice clothes, presumably taking a break because they came out of the restroom across from the council room.

out of courtesy, you walk them all the way back to the dance club. it's pretty much a crime, how there's such a long way to the restrooms from the performing arts room. you try to convince yourself that the scenery makes up for it, with student art and posters adorning the walls and somewhat motivational quotes painted on the walls above the lockers. there's flyers advertising the upcoming fall festival everywhere, like a reminder being laser-beamed into your hippocampus.

you tuck your hands in your pockets, directing your gaze to the two girls to your right. "how's practice?"

saebi lights up, and you feel so blinded by her smile that you have to physically divert your eyes to recover. "it's going great! our routine is really coming together, i'm so excited to perform."

beside you, sarang narrows her eyes playfully. "you're not trying to get a spoiler out of us, are you?"

what? no, that's preposterous. you would never do such a thing. "yes."

"i think you got your thoughts and speech mixed up, unnie."

you don't need to defend yourself because after what felt like an eternity, the three of you have arrived safely at the performance arts room. taped to the door is a handmade poster that says 'come watch the dance club's performance at the festival! day 2, @ 1pm, main stage.' surrounding the text is a bunch of animals in various art styles, presumably drawn by different members of the club.

the door is shut, but if you listened close enough you could faintly hear the sound of shoe squeaking and some background music.

"that's weird," sarang comments, "everyone left for break. who could be in there?"

saebi twists the door knob and slightly opens the door. the three of you try to peek at the lone dancer through the open crack with sarang on the bottom, you in the middle, and saebi on top. you shift your eyes, quickly finding the dancer. the girl's movements are fluid, moving to the beat in confidence and determination. trying to identify mystery-dancer, you squint at the mirror and gasp.

the girl is jeemin.

'come to think of it, i've never seen her dance before, but...' a smile makes its way onto your lips. 'she's cool when she dances.'

the impromptu stack disbands and sarang turns to you with an animated smile. "it's jeemin-unnie! she's been working really hard, you know? to impress you."

to impress you? hearing it from jeemin is one thing, but for others to notice too? it makes you feel giddy inside. "is that so?"

both of the girls nod.

"i'll be looking forward to your performance, then," you grin, raising a fist.

sarang raises an eyebrow, opening her mouth to say something but chooses not to. instead, she smiles and waves, dragging the taller girl into the practice room with her.

huh. that was weird.

you adjust the shoulder strap of your backpack. when you get home, you have an email to write, and a spreadsheet to edit. but instead of your work, your mind is overloaded with thoughts that consist of a certain bear-resembling girl whose initials are j.m.

it's d-day! you're supposed to be overlooking the event but fuko (oh so gracious fuko) told you to go off and watch the performances, saying something about how "experiencing the event" is "part of your job". that doesn't really make too much sense in your head, but you get to watch the thing that's been on your mind for weeks, a.k.a. jeemin's performance with the dance club.

the spacious front yard of the school has been completely transformed, with a huge slot of empty space before the almost professional looking main stage that was set up solely for the three-day festival. behind the audience area lies lines of food stalls and carnival games that only a fraction of the attendees can beat. lively student stall keepers holler and beckon people to come over, and some teachers who were forced into a hotdog costume or even an inflatable t-rex costume (believe it or not, there were plenty of those) are standing in front of attractions while holding signs.

you buy yourself some blue raspberry flavored cotton candy, and make your way over to the stage, hoping to get a good view before clumps of crowd form when the performances begin. you pull out a piece of the cotton candy and pop it in your mouth. it's sweet and sugary and- uh, it's just that. sweet and sugary, since cotton candy is entirely sugar and air. the rest of the sweet treat is inhaled by... none of than you, and you throw away the cone before rushing to grab a spot in the very front.

admittedly it is a little lonely, since most of your friends are performing—even jungeun and jiyoon, who are singing a duet together—leaving you alone to watch the show. no matter. they will have your support either way. your friends are very talented, and you'll always be their biggest fan.

fuko and one of your fellow student council members, the popular, bubbly social media manager, make their entrance onto the stage. the cheers that erupted from the crowd—that you didn't even notice formed around you—were deafening, and it was just because the pair walked onto the stage.

they do the usual greetings, do some mc-ing, and announce the first group to perform. there's an entertaining mix of stand-up comedy, magic shows, cover bands, singers, cultural performances, and more, and your chest swells with pride as you intently watch the students have fun on the stage. the festival is always an occasion in which you truly get to see unity within the community; all support, no hate. it's a beautiful thing.

jungeun and jiyoon emerge from opposite sides of the stage, and you scream as loud as you can when you catch glimpses of them in their black outfits. their performance soothe you, bringing you close to tears throughout the song. the girls' vocals come together in a saccharine mix, their voices complimenting each other in the best way you can describe: the epitome of harmony.

at the end of the song, you scream their names again and have to rush to write something on your phone to act as a sign, holding it up high so the girls can see it from their place on the stage. when they do notice it, jiyoon smiles and sends a heart in your direction, and jungeun waves with a toothy grin. yep. totally worth it.

a few more acts later and it's finally time for the dance club to shine. you're so excited you could bounce off the walls, if there was any nearby. once again, the crowd's cheers make you want to rip your ears off, but you join in anyway. you only live once, right?

the dancers get in position, but there's something strange: jeemin's nowhere in sight. you cheer for sarang and koko, who are the only ones you're familiar with in the lineup, and try to enjoy the routine as much as you can, but there's that stinging feeling in the back of your mind, questioning the lack of the girl who claimed she was going to "capture your heart with her charms".

you cheer again at the end of the routine, biting your lip. is jeemin okay? did she injure herself? what happened?

koko takes a mic, catching her breath and smiling. "i hope you enjoyed this performance! but..." she hands sarang the mic.

"don't worry," the shorter girl breathes out, "we still have one, special performance left."

for a brief moment, you swear she deliberately makes eye contact with you when she says special. involuntarily, your heart palpitates and your mind races and- bang jeemin.

bang jeemin, who stylishly walks in from behind the curtain with a stack of fake dollar bills in hand, followed by mai, saebi, and two girls who you recognize as kim sujung and son juwon, known for being incredibly skilled in the field of dance. they all throw their paper bills up into the air, making it rain and effectively gaining screams and cheers from the audience.

the background music—money, by lisa—starts and you can't help but to let your jaw drop, eyes sparkling as you admire everyone's moves, especially saebi's own killing part, and mai's fiery swagger. juwon's expressions are on point, and sujung is just so cool. most importantly, your thoughts immediately fill with 'jeemin, jeemin,' and more 'jeemin' and as soon as you catch her eye, you feel your legs almost give out.

'this girl,' you think, as you notice she is definitely sending winks and directing some of the choreography towards you. no, it is not your delusions. you know this is true. she is looking right at you.

you only feel more amazement when the four dancers move to the side to make way for jeemin's solo. her movements are filled with precision and charm, confidence oozing out with every gesture she makes and every expression she offers. if she hadn't charmed her way into your heart before, she definitely has now with this performance being the tipping point.

this jeemin is different from the timid, bashful jeemin from a year ago. you saw only a small part of this side of her a while ago, but now you get to see it for real.

the group joins back together for the dance break and the outro, and you suddenly feel your throat dry up, managing a weak cheer when jeemin sends the last wink to you. you're so impressed you're speechless. today is definitely a day to remember.

four of the girls make to exit the stage, and you almost attempt to leave the crowd until jeemin taps a microphone and it screeches—not the most conventional way of silencing the audience, but it works. even if it was unintentional on her part.

the dancer flushes red in embarrassment before she tries speaking into the mic. "um, hi. our performance was good, wasn't it?"

the audience erupts in a loud cheer. the corners of jeemin's mouth lift, and you unconsciously mirror the action. "i just wanted to say- uh, i have something special to say. to someone very special in the crowd right now."

she takes a deep breath, clenching the microphone as she slowly takes small steps in your direction. your breath hitches. "y/n. i want you to know that you've got this way about you that draws me in—your smile, your laugh, the care that leaks into each of your actions, your music taste... everything, actually." she laughs. the pleasant sound echoes within your mind; you hope you can hear this sound for the rest of your life.

"whenever you look at me or talk to me, i feel like my heart is going to burst. i admire you a lot."

some people around you gasp. you hear murmurs of, "oh my gosh, jeemin is the sender of that letter from a month ago!" and "it's her!?" all around you, and you've always disliked being the center of attention but you suppose today is a truly special occasion.

you're surprised she doesn't stumble over her words, with the rosy blush on her cheeks spreading to her ears. she continues, reaching the edge of the stage where you've been pushed to the front.

"i put a lot of effort into my performance to impress you, y/n..." she squats down. now you are eye to eye with jeemin and you're afraid that her blush is contagious, feeling a burning sensation on your own face. "so... have i charmed you?"

a microphone is passed to you, and you think all of your decision-making skills have been honed for exactly this moment. you inhale... exhale... and look into jeemin's deep brown eyes. "i must say, that was a rather... entrancing performance."

her eyes gleam, and you're unable to fight off the bright smile that settles on your face.

"and i'd also like to say that yes. you have successfully captured my heart with your charms."

psalm 32:1-5 Blessed is he whose transgressions are forgiven, whose sins are covered. Blessed is the man whose sin the Lord does not count against him, and in whose spirit is no deceit. When I kept silent, my bones wasted away through my groaning all day long. For day and night your hand was heavy upon me; my strength was sapped as in the heat of summer. Then I acknowledged my sin to you, and did not cover up my iniquity. I said, ‘I will confess my transgressions to the Lord’— and you forgave the guilt of my sin.

——————————————————————————————————— debut.

that’s what you’ve been working towards your entire life, what you hungered for, what you wanted.

since your early teen years, you’ve dreamed of debuting. You loved to perform, to sing, to dance— that’s why you were in your church’s choir group. The advent show, the way of the cross, everything— you were there.

did your parents approve of you being an idol? Absolutely not. They tried to convince you to settle down with one of the nice churchboys, the son of one of their friends. He was.. nice, okay looking. But you just didn’t like him. You dreamt of falling in love, being swept off your feet into happily ever after— but for most of your life, you had never even had a real crush! You must just not have found the right guy yet. It only counted when it was with a boy.

you auditioned for SM, and miraculously, you got in. Your days were spent training, dancing, weighing, singing, dancing, showcasing, singing, training, dancing, weighing— a cycle, really.

you met Yu Jimin and Kim Minjeong pretty early on, and you got along great with Jimin. She was catholic, and so were you! She wasn’t as dedicated as you, of course, but it was nice to have something in common.

you all didn’t get the chance to talk with Ning Yizhou a whole lot, even if she did share a dorm with minjeong. You dormed with jimin, but there was an empty bed.

that bed would be filled by one Aeri Uchinaga.

and from that day, your life would also be filled by aeri uchinaga.

The five of you were called to a meeting. You were a little worried, of course, clutching your silver cross chain and pressing the tip of it into your chest. A nervous habit.

“Hello girls,” the man began, the five of you sitting and fidgeting nervously.

“I have good news for you all. You five will be debuting as SM’s newest girl group, Aespa. Congratulations,” he smiled, and it felt like your world had just crumbled and rebuilt itself, three times over.

“We’ll begin thinking of your stage names soon, so feel free to give us some ideas. We’ll be waiting,” the man continued, and like that, the meeting ended.

you all had to celebrate, right?

The five of you met in your dorm, as minjeong didn’t want to bother the other trainee living there. You all begin thinking of stage names, and your eyes drifted to the figurine of Mary that sat on your nightstand. Jimin was thinking of using Katarina, her baptismal name, anyway! Your confirmation name could also work, but you weren’t sure.

“What if I used Mary?” You thought out loud, the other four girls turning their heads to glance at you, and the figure just behind you.

“Mary?” Jimin began. “Like, the Virgin Mary? Our Lady of Naju?” She questioned.

“Yes, I quite like the idea, don’t you?” The other girls knew you spoke a little formally, never really speaking in slang or impolitely in the slightest. It was your parents, after all. You had grown up in a secluded, small town in America, but your parents had taught you Korean, along with your own interest, reading books to perfect grammar. Sadly, that didn’t really teach you many informal words— not that your parents would allow that. You had to be a lady, of course.

“It seems a bit.. outdated, doesn’t it?” Aeri voiced, tentatively, and the other girls agreed with her. They began giving suggestions.

“What about Lily?” Jimin offered.

“Eden— no, maybe Eve?” minjeong hummed.

“Lilith!” Ning exclaimed, much to the amusement of the other girls.

“Ning, that’s similar to Lily, though, isn’t it?” Minjeong gave an amused half-smile.

“I guess so,” she sighed.

“I like Eve,” Aeri voiced, and the other girls all mostly agreed, although more name suggestions were given out, for everyone.

You debuted with the names Karina, Giselle, Eve, Winter, and Ningning.

you said a prayer every morning and every night, with the rosary that was around the figurine. A small Our Father, a Hail Mary, an Act of Contrition— no matter what, you never missed your morning and nightly prayers, no matter how small. You attended mass on Sunday, and while you usually couldn’t go in person, you’d try to listen to it in the morning, before it was time for practice, or at night, before bed— it didn’t matter how much sleep you gave up for it.

You were moved into a group dorms a bit after debut, Black Mamba being a sensational hit. You dormed with aeri, while ning and minjeong dormed together, karina having pulled the leader and oldest card to secure the single-room.

You and aeri weren’t exactly close. There was no animosity, of course, you two just never really got the chance to talk. It was definitely by chance. Not because she made your heart beat just a little faster, your steps a little more uncoordinated, your words fail. It wasn’t that. It wasn’t that at all.

you just admired the other girl. It didn’t help that you two had more than one language in common— aeri had gone to an international school, you were raised in america. You just hadn't gotten the chance to approach her, that was all.

well, the first night before the debut stage, you couldn’t sleep. You tossed and turned, finally sitting up, when—

“Can’t sleep?” aeri’s voice was low with sleep, and she was speaking in english. You felt an uncomfortable skip in your heart.

“Oh, yes, I’m just a bit restless,” you laughed, definitely not nervously. “I am, too. Just a little,” she replied, making a pinching gesture with her fingers, and a smile.

“Why?” You asked, even if it was kind of a dumb question.

aeri was silent, for a beat. At one point, you started to wonder if she was even going to respond.

“I’m just kind of.. scared,” she admitted. “We’re gonna be on display to the whole world, and who knows what’ll happen?” She chuckled, throwing her arms up just a bit. “I’m just.. worried. And.. I mean obviously, I miss home,” she added.

you looked at her, slightly, turning your head just to glance at the dark haired girl. “I know,” you murmured. “I miss home too, even if it wasn’t.. the most exciting place. I just miss it,” you continued. You were just a little afraid you were speaking too quickly in english, but aeri seemed fine. “I mean, I understand. I miss my parents,” she agreed.

you wished you could say the same. It’s not that you didn’t love your parents, but they were a little.. much. They didn’t like the fact you hadn’t found a guy yet. They’d ask you if you.. liked girls. You denied it, you didn’t! You were steadfast in your faith, dedicated, you didn’t like girls. You couldn’t.

“I miss my friends, you know. Sometimes I worry I’ll forget english,” you admitted.

“Well,” aeri gave a grin. “I’ll talk to you in english all you want if you promise to talk to me in japanese,”

you didn’t even speak japanese, but for her? you’d learn.

You smiled. “Of course,”

the two of you tried your best to sleep, after that, but it was mostly you two continuing to talk about anything and everything.

You could tell aeri was going to be one of your best friends. A reminder of home, if anything.

the debut showcase went great, the song was a hit, everything was good.

you and aeri spoke before going to sleep every night— you’d even bought a book about japanese grammar, how to read, write and speak it. You tried your best, but aeri had a nice time correcting you. It was.. nice. You always loved to learn languages, and for some reason, having someone who spoke it already help you was.. a bit comforting, in a way.

you still prayed every night, and aeri would sometimes give you a look, but she never said anything.

everything was going great.

until the hate began

Every little thing you or your group did was criticized, nitpicked, blown out of proportion— and the stress was getting to you.

you had never handled stress very well. You didn’t have a reason to. There was really nothing for you to ever stress about— other than following god, of course, but that wasn’t stressful to you. You had no reason to be stressed about something like that! You were a good person, you hadn’t ever wanted to sin.

some of the comments were about your appearance. It started to chip away at you. The company was always happy when you lost weight, so why not just a little more? It’s not like it would kill you. you were three months into an eating disorder that you called a diet.

the second you got up, you’d pray as your sustenance, head to practice, do your schedules— the other girls would order lunch, you’d ask for a salad. No dressing, of course, you didn’t like the taste. then, as you’d all get to the dorm, again, if there was even an hour of free time, you’d head to the company gym. Sometimes, when you were just in a waiting room, or you couldn’t work out— you’d pace. Anything to keep moving, you just couldn’t sit still. It was taking over your mind.

you couldn’t even eat normally. Any food given to you on a variety show, any drink, anything— mentally, you were counting. You liked to be in the negatives, you liked to skip meals, anything to be better. This was for yourself, so people couldn’t comment on you. You started to come up with even more elaborate ways to prove you were okay, to be better, you practiced more, you stayed late, you slept in the practice room, at times. You begged the vocal coaches to tell you whether or not you were actually good, and as much as they said you were, you just couldn’t believe them.

it was starting to destroy you.

“y/n?” Aeri called, as you prayed right before bed. She stood by the open room door, looking at you with a concerned expression. Why would she be concerned?

“Yes?” You answered, setting down the rosary, putting it back around the statue of Mary that watched over you so carefully. Sometimes, you wondered if you’d made her proud. Maybe if you said the suffering was in the name of god, he’d forgive you. He’d forgive you for the things you had thought and done and wanted to do. He’d forgive you. You could punish yourself, already. You could pray for him to fix you quickly, maybe you could give up eating for lent entirely—

“You.. haven’t been sleeping here, lately. We haven’t gotten.. to talk,” aeri began, sitting down next to you, looking down at you from where she had sat on your bed, right next to where you knelt.

you had completely forgotten your promise. It had just slipped your mind, you never really were awake enough for it, lately, and—

“Are you okay? You’re kind of.. pale, and you have dark circles, and-“

“Oh, I’m fine,” you smiled, quickly. “It’s just.. lent,” you lied, quickly. “All catholics fast and give something up for lent, don’t worry,” you assured, waving a hand dismissively. While it was true, it didn’t call for someone to starve themselves. You were lying. That’s a sin. But it’s just a white lie, so they won’t worry, right? It’s okay, you told yourself.

“We’re worried about you,” aeri frowned, putting a hand on your shoulder, the weight making you go from a kneeling position to sitting with your legs crossed. “I’m worried about you,”

god damn aeri, and her kind personality, and her need to care for others, and she was just so good- she was such a good person, and here you were, about to ruin her, damn her to hell. You were a horrible, filthy, disgusting person. For some reason, your eyes grew hot, but you couldn’t cry. You simply stared at her, with wide eyes, like seeing god’s light, it blinded you. You wished she didn’t care about you. You wouldn’t blame her. Vaguely, you remembered the first commandment.

the first commandment. Exodus 20:1 I am the Lord your God.  You shall not have other gods beside me. You shall not make for yourself an idol or a likeness of anything in the heavens above or on the earth below or in the waters beneath the earth; you shall not bow down before them or serve them. For I, the Lord, your God, am a jealous God

“Aeri, I-” your voice cracked, and you were so determined not to cry, but you could feel your resolve breaking, because you were weak, you were weak to your vices and weak to aeri, you were so pathetic. The older girl let out a small sigh, sinking down onto the floor next to you, taking you into her arms. She was silent, for a bit, while you choked out words that were mostly incomprehensible. She ran a hand through your hair, and was a bit unsettled to feel how cold you were to the touch, but she pointedly ignored it.

“Y/n, you can’t let the words of those people get to you.. they won’t do you any good, and.. I know that’s hypocritical of me, I’m learning to ignore it too, but.. you can’t let it kill you like this,” she continued, voice soft. It made you sick how much you liked her comforting you. What would she do if she knew that you were so disgusting. You wanted aeri, you realized as you held her shirt, with some sense of finality hitting you. You didn’t want her to leave. You wanted her to hold you, and she wasn’t even aware of what you felt towards her. You were taking advantage of her. You were so disgusting.

“I’m sorry,” you croaked out, voice a little choked as you bit the inside of your cheek, trying not to cry. “I’m so sorry,” “It’s okay,” she said, a little confused on why you were apologizing, look of worry on her face. Not that you could see it. You had your head in the crook of her neck.

that’s why you were apologizing, really.

you were sorry that you loved her. You were sorry she wanted to help you. You she couldn’t fix you, no one could. you were defective, and wrong, and oh so selfish. Aeri was such a good person.

the presence of the statue on your nightstand caught your eye from the corner. You turned away. She shouldn’t have to see this.

you could feel the tears stinging at your eyes, the shame, the guilt, the hate— it was all too much. You needed to push aeri away, to get as far away from her as possible, to save what little integrity and goodness you had left—

but you didn’t.

you clutched her shirt tighter, breathed her in desperately, and let out a choked sound. You wanted to cry, but you screwed your eyes shut and bit your lip. The blood was heavy and sharp in your mouth.

You woke up the next day beyond exhausted, but in your bed and off the floor. You surmised that aeri had put you there. You held your head, and got down on your knees in front of your bed. You prayed.

“Mary, mother of God, please guide me away from sin, as you have for so many others. Help me to continue being steadfast in my faith, and to follow all commandments well. Allow me to be worthy of your son, and continue to protect me from sin. These thoughts have been given to me by the devil, as a challenge of my faith. Guide me out of temptation, and forgive my actions, in the Lord’s name, I ask for this mercy,”

you stood up. Your knees ached. Aeri was up, sitting cross legged on her bed, watching you with a concerned expression. “Why are you praying to Mary?” aeri asked, voice light but expression still a bit worried, if not a tad curious.

“Catholics pray to saints as well. Especially depending on their patronage— I mean, if I lose something, I usually pray to Saint Anthony,” you chuckled, explaining the concept.

“What’s Mary the patron Saint of?” aeri asked, softly, curiously.

“Many different things, depending on which version of her you choose to pray to. Our Lady of Lourdes is Mary, but when she appeared in Lourdes. She’s the patron saint of the sick. There’s Our Lady of Loreto, the patron Saint of pilots,”

“Which one do you have, then?”

“Our Lady of Sorrows,” you murmured, glancing towards the figure on your nightstand. The rosary was draped around her carefully. Her downcast, frowning face, her hands clasped together, the feeling of her porcelain eyes boring into your back nearly burned.

“What’s she the patron Saint of?”

“Sinners,”

the second commandment. Exodus 20:1-7 You shall not invoke the name of the Lord, your God, in vain. For the Lord will not leave unpunished anyone who invokes his name in vain.

practice that day went on for a long while. You were all practicing for next level. At one point, you took a small break, drinking water— your heart had been beating quite fast, that day, and your throat had been dry the entire practice.

during the beat change, it was nearly impossible for you to keep your eyes off aeri- or should you start calling her giselle, now? maybe it would be best to separate the two.

you shouldn’t be looking at aeri like that— but giselle was an idol. giselle was not your friend— she was someone untouchable, unattainable. It was okay to like her, to find her pretty, to want- no, no. You didn’t. You just envied her appearance, was all.

Your eyes were glued to her, the way she moved, her expression, everything, it was-

“Oh my God,” you mumbled, eyes locked onto her movements, before you heard the instructor call for you to get up and were immediately snapped out of your haze. You didn’t even remember the event before you went to sleep.

the third commandment. Exodus 20:1-11 Remember the sabbath day—keep it holy. Six days you may labor and do all your work, but the seventh day is a sabbath of the Lord your God.  You shall not do any work.  For in six days the Lord made the heavens and the earth, the sea and all that is in them; but on the seventh day he rested. That is why the Lord has blessed the sabbath day and made it holy.

It was Sunday. It was always a toss-up whether or not you’d have a schedule that day, and today you did not. You watched the six a.m. mass, while aeri slept a few feet away. You knelt when they knelt, stood when they stood, prayed when they prayed.

but you did not sing, no. That would wake aeri.

the girls usually used their rest days to sleep. You always woke up early. You were restless. You hated to sleep. In your dreams you’d see images of a life you could never live, of things you shouldn’t— couldn’t— do. You’d see aeri. No, not aeri— giselle. Aeri didn’t look your way on the stage, hold your gaze for a moment too long, send a wink. The company didn’t order aeri to hold you closer, smile at you more, intertwine your hands.

aeri would never look at you that way.

but giselle would.

you went to the practice room after you prayed. You rehearsed until you felt the world spin, your skin too hot- until you forgot about aeri, and giselle, and the figurine on your nightstand, and the pastor’s homilies, and the way your parents would never love you the same because of what you had done. You danced until your vision became blurry, so you couldn’t see your hands, so whatever or whoever you touched wasn’t your fault, so you couldn’t see their face. More likely, so you couldn’t see yourself, and the body you lived in. You danced until your ears rang, so you wouldn’t have to listen to the sounds, to how your members pleaded with you to stop doing this to yourself. Till you couldn’t hear the people telling you it wasn’t enough.

till you couldn’t hear yourself telling you it wasn’t enough.

till you couldn’t hear your parents words resounding in your head, the endless comments of it being unnatural, of being sent straight to the hellfire, to how it was the most hideous thing in the world.

till you didn’t hear the way fans leered after you, and your members— the stares they’d give you, as you walked, the way they’d clamber for you, so many hands reaching, reaching for you, to touch, to take. it ate you up inside, how badly you wanted to be pure. and how you knew, through it all, you never could be. they could imagine you any way, salivate, draw, take, write it in comments. They even had the confidence to say it out loud, passing comments on variety shows.

you danced till you could forget their words, their looks, what you knew so well that they thought, you danced till you thought your body would give out—

or, conversely, till the leader and main vocalist of red velvet opened the practice room door and rushed over to the the shaking body of their junior, nearly unable to breath, head in her hands and knees to her chest in the farthest corner of the room, brightly illuminated.

you wanted to assure them you were fine, but the cross chain you wore was too tight on your neck, the silver feeling like hot iron burning your throat. You swore if you looked down it would be burning into your skin, leaving a brand.

each breath felt like swallowing glass, and your eyes were unfocused, and your ears were ringing, and your body was screaming in protest of each movement, and your eyesight was blurring—

but you got up, bowed, apologized, assured them you were okay, thanked them, and left.

you had been lying a lot, lately. To your members, about how you were— to your managers, your staff, to your seniors, now. Lying was a sin. but you could excuse it, couldn’t you?

you hoped they wouldn’t mention it to your members.

the fourth commandment. Exodus 20:1-12 Honor your father and your mother, that you may have a long life in the land the Lord your God is giving you.

you rarely talked to your parents. You should call them, more. Or, more accurately, you should pick up their calls, more. Except, it was maddening. You hated talking to them. No matter how much you tried to convince yourself you didn’t, that they were your parents, and what they said was gospel, you couldn’t stand it. Their prying questions, asking how being an idol was, if you kept up with your faith, asking why the media would report on how “close” you were with your members— with Aeri. Asking why you had gotten so thin, and that you needed to gain weight. They would pick and pry at every little thing. You couldn’t stand it, you couldn’t-

the phone rang. Again. You picked up.

“Finally, you answer the phone, y/n,” the voice of your mother crackled, thousands of miles away.

“I’m sorry,” you respond, robotically, like a reflex. “I was in practice. We’re busy, since we’re preparing for a comeback,”

“You always have some excuse for us, don’t you? You can’t just talk to your parents? What a daughter, you are. We’re your parents, y/n, you should actually listen to us, more. I told you being an idol wouldn’t be good for you, and look at you now! Barely any respect for your parents, how horrible is that? I can’t believe you,” she ranted, going on and on about this and that and every failure and everything you should’ve done better.

“This is why I didn’t want you going away, I knew what it’d do to you.. we tried to fix you, but you are a sick, sick little girl,” she spat, accusingly. “You know what you did, you know what you did to this family— that I have to live with a daughter who’s-”

click.

You hung up.

her voice was so grating.

Your mother loved to spout silly little ideas, didn’t she? She was wrong. You didn’t do anything. You weren’t gay. You didn’t like girls, or a girl. They had just been confused. The reason you became an idol was because you loved to perform, not because it was your only way out— after they saw you with her. It wasn’t your fault. You didn’t kiss her. You didn’t, you’d never-

the truth was that you had left your hometown because of an incident. Yes, you loved to perform, and being an idol was always on your mind. But you never thought you’d do it, how could you leave?

You soon found out what it was like to live outcasted, alone, treated like something wrong and filthy and horrible. Your parents didn’t help. So, you did what anyone would do— you ran away, off to Korea, off to the harsh idol system

because anything

anything

would be better than living with the guilt and shame, with the knowing eyes and hateful stares. anything would be better than being stuck in that suffocating smalll town, where everyone knew everyone, and all your secrets were magnified.

she had moved away, anyway. Her parents protected her. you protected yourself. You had to run.

so you did.

you had to kill that part of yourself, bury her more than six feet deep, deep enough so that the world would never find her.

You died the day your parents opened your bedroom door and found you with the daughter of a deacon, who helped at the church, who your parents had invited over for dinner, who they had been invited by for dinner. When they found you with the daughter of their friends.

they didn’t know whether to say if she corrupted you or you corrupted her.

they chose the latter, of course, they got to it first. They drove them out of town, blaming that girl for your transgressions. For your sin.

she kissed you, after all.

you just sat there and took it.

it wasn’t your fault, they said to the town. It was hers. You’re just too trusting and naïve.

if only they knew, the rest of the people. Your parents certainly did.

they forbid you from having any friends that were girls over, again.

and you understood. You knew. And you took it.

You killed that part of yourself, that day. Buried her, and tried to forget. But there’s dirt and blood on your hands and you’re still hollow. There’s nothing left of you, from before. Bright smiles and eyes, a cheery demeanor, giggling in secret with her- there’s none of that left.

You’re not a little kid anymore, a teenager with a crush, no.

You grew up. You had to.

and that little girl is dead.

dead and buried, underground.

you wished Aeri knew you when you were younger.

she would’ve loved the softer you.

the fifth commandment. Exodus 20:1-13 You shall not kill.

You know, there’s a reason priests and nuns can’t get married.

it’s because, allegedly, they’re married to god.

so, in that case, is it wrong for you, married to god since birth, by your parents— that anything, anyone other than a boy, was wrong?

you tried to understand, but you couldn’t. What was the consensus?

you knew, deep down. What you were was wrong.

and yet, you couldn’t stop. You tried. But you were weak, at heart. A sinner, with no control.

that was your downfall, you thought.

or maybe salvation.

You and Aeri were the last two in the practice room— you were near obsessive with your need to perfect choreography, and Aeri asked you for help, so— you were here. You had already released Next Level, but the practicing never stopped, obviously. You had to perfect it, make it yours, make it the best— so that’s where you were, right now.

it was late, honestly. Already dark out, and your other three members had long since left. You regretted saying yes to Aeri— you knew the choreography for next level, obviously, you knew the way Giselle moved made you feel something wrong, something dark and wanting. You tried to push it down, though— you ran through the moves together, you fixed some posturing and some other small timing issues, really, it was nothing major. You watched her run through those parts, and clenched your jaw.

you felt hot, and your hands itched to reach out and touch her. You couldn’t be making this up, could you? She was looking at you through the mirror, your flushed face barely visible from the darker corner you were sitting at. You swore you could see a smirk on Giselle’s face, for a split second, a mischievous twinkle in her eye.

you hated it, hated how Giselle made you feel out of control, made you feel wanting, made that dark thing in you, shoved deep down, squirm and claw. You felt sick. You wanted her.

“I’ll be back,” you said, abruptly standing up and turning the door of the practice room, practically scrambling out. “Bathroom,” was what you supplied as reasoning, before you got out the door, rushing through the empty halls. They were weirdly eerie, at night.

you walked into the bathroom, the sound of your shoes clicking on the ground far too loud, the yellowed glow of the SM building’s bathrooms surrounding you. You gripped the sink, turning on the water and splashing some on your face. You felt dirty, and wrong. Your skin crawled in the suffocating space, the sound of running water driving you insane, the sound of your breathing almost too much. It seems you were in there for longer than you thought, though, as you stated into the mirror, lost in thought, knuckles turning white with the bruising grip you kept on the sink counter.

“Y/n?” Aeri called, opening the door.

You snapped your head to her— she was wearing just some white tanktop and sweatpants, with a black sports bra, but god.

Giselle walked over to you, with a concerned expression. “Are you okay? You’re breathing pretty hard,” she asked, walking closer, putting a hand on your hip, other hand touching your arm.

your composure snapped. You moved your hands to her face, holding it in them, looking at her with wide eyes. “Giselle, I-”

“Why are you calling me Giselle? That’s my stage name, y/n, just call me Aeri?” she said, a little confused and a little irritated. Why the hell were you calling her by her stage name?

you held her face a little tighter, taking in a sharp breath, mouth suddenly feeling dry.

“Aeri,” you murmured, voice low. You leaned in, and her eyes widened, slightly. She didn’t push you away, in fact, she met you in the middle, holding you tighter, moving her other hand to your waist, squeezing your hip, where she could feel the outline of your hipbone. You hated how much you needed her, the kiss messy and desperate, filled with an underlying sense of want and need.

“G- Aeri,” you mumbled, out of breath, panting against her mouth. You couldn’t reconcile the two, easily. Giselle was the one who was making you do this, right? Not Aeri, you didn’t like Aeri, right?

no, that wasn’t true. You liked Aeri. A lot more than you’d admit. You wanted her. You needed her. You couldn’t stop, now.

“Aeri, please-” you murmured, between kisses. They were more desperate, now, wanting, as she pushed you against the cold bathroom wall, the light flickering once. Twice. Three times.

“Yeah? What do you want?” She asked, lowly, eyes dark and pupils blown wide as she looked down at you.

“Lock the door,” you muttered, grabbing her wrist, tightly, and moving her hand upwards.

the sixth commandment. Exodus 20:1-14 You shall not commit adultery.

you and aeri never spoke about it.

but it became a thing, now.

you needed her like a drug, constantly wanting and waiting for the next time you could have her.

you and giselle shared a room, after all. you were pretty sure everyone knew. and by everyone you meant your members, of course. the public could never know, they’d ruin both your career and hers, and you couldn’t do that to her. you weren’t evil, just weak. just horrible, but not evil. you could never hurt her. you loved her, didn’t you? the way a friend doesn’t hurt a friend.

deep down, you knew. It was so much worse than that.

they couldn’t know the way you put concealer on, before practice. the way you were strangely hot and cold, terrified of her touch, but how the both of you would disappear into your room, or somewhere, together, always appearing back, more than a few minutes later, though the tension was always still there.

the way you had become a shell.

you were ashamed, really.

you felt so disgusting, all the time. here you were, dirty, filthy, robbing someone else, sullying them, damning her, all for your own selfish needs, desires, wants.

you had always wanted, too much.

giselle was your temptation and aeri was the sin, the collateral to the damage.

it’s not like she protested, either, the way giselle’s hands lingered, a beat too longer to be friendly. the way her fists would clench on those stupid variety shows, when the hosts mentioned your appearance, saying you were so pretty.

she hated how they’d look at you.

but you couldn’t see that, really.

you hated yourself, and you had stolen aeri’s sanctity.

it was giselle’s fault, though, you would think, sometimes.

but deep down, you knew the truth.

it was your doing. Your fault. You ruined everything you touched, everything you wanted would die and burn because you were a sinner. All because you couldn’t control yourself.

eve ate the apple, too, you’d think. but maybe, the snake wasn’t just the creature, no, but the whispers of lilith, beckoning her away, promising her everything she’d wanted. forbidden knowledge, godhood, becoming better— and maybe, even herself.

was biting the apple an act of naivety, of greed?

or the blind, blissful ignorance of trust? of love?

someone you loved wouldn’t damn you, would they?

but oh, you knew better. You knew.

you had stolen both of your chances of sanctity and holiness.

out of blind, ignorant, nearly all encompassing love.

it was love.

the seventh commandment. Exodus 20:1-15   You shall not steal.

The weeks went by, in this strange commitment.

you had just arrived back from yet another variety show, and Giselle was obviously annoyed at something. It was late, and everyone wanted to sleep. You made your way back to your room, the door open a crack—

giselle was changing into some sleep clothes. You didn’t really care which. the glimpse of her back, of skin, made you nearly feel ill. You shut the door, quickly, feeling like you couldn’t breathe. It made you feel sick.

you entered about a minute later, to see her scrolling on her phone, with a bored expression. You, instead, went and knelt in front of the small Mary statue you kept.

“Mary, mother of God, please hear my prayer. I’m asking you to give me the strength to-”

your breath hitched as you felt giselle put her hands on your shoulders, leaning into your back, feeling her smirk press against your neck.

“y/n,” she called, a mischievous lilt to her voice like this was a fucking game.

“y-yes?” was the reply.

Her hands moved, pressing along your collarbone.

“You know, I hate variety shows, sometimes,” she hummed, voice so unbelievably distracting. “I don’t like the way they talk about you,” she continued.

“I- I agree, I do, it’s quite-”

her blunt nails dug into your shoulder, slightly, as she pulled you back, just a bit, your back pressed to her front. Her head craned forward, to murmur into your ear. “It pisses me off,” she added.

of course, you tended to her anger. You had to, as penance.

later, when you were laying beside her, panting with tears in your eyes, saying anything that came to mind—

“I love you,” you choked out, reverently, like a prayer.

god never responded to those, usually. aeri didn’t love you back.

there’s no way god loved you. and aeri didn’t, either.

the eighth commandment Exodus 20:1-16 You shall not bear false witness against your neighbor.

“Tell me not to,” you begged, clutching onto giselle like a lifeline, holding her arms. “Tell me no, tell me not to love you. I can’t, I shouldn’t, I don’t want-”

girls never hungered. They never want, like a boy.

“And what if it’s what I want!” She spat back, acidly, pushing you off. “I love you, and I don’t know why you can’t accept that! I love you, not like a friend, or coworker, or whatever else you think! I’m in love with you, why can’t you get that!?” she asked, sharply, voice far too loud.

you didn’t know how to explain that you loved her, too, that you wished you could love her. You always wanted, so badly, to like a boy, and to love him, so you could hold his hand in public, and kiss him, and introduce him to your parents and they wouldn’t say a word, to be able to love him without just that fact being controversial, to love someone without it absolutely ruining your career. Idols couldn’t date, yes, but they’d survive if they were rumored to be with a man.

god forbid it was a girl.

you couldn’t ruin her career, or yours. You couldn’t damn her more, you couldn’t ruin everything, like you always did-

“I can’t,” you cried, desperately. “I’ll ruin everything, I’ll ruin you, I’d-”

“I don’t care!” she retorted. “I don’t care! I want you, and I love you. Is it that you can’t, or you won’t? You’re just scared,” she accused, rightly so.

“I am,” you admitted, pathetically. “I’m scared.”

She scoffed, clenching her fists. She turned, sharply, turning the door handle, wiping her eyes and slamming the room’s door.

You were alone.

god abandoned you, long ago.

you don’t know why it hurt more the second time.

the ninth commandment Exodus 20:1-17 You shall not covet your neighbor’s house. You shall not covet your neighbor’s wife, his ox or donkey, or anything that belongs to your neighbor.

it was a few days later, at night after an off day. You had been hiding in your room most of the day. Cowardly, yes, but the other members weren’t exactly thrilled with you. You couldn’t blame them. You were currently pretending to be asleep.

you heard aeri enter the room. She laid down, to sleep. The lights were off. It was dead silent. You turned.

“aeri,” you called. No response.

“I’m sorry. I’m really sorry,” you continued, after surmising she was asleep. “I love you. I really do. I’m just so, so scared. I don’t know how to let myself love you. I feel wrong. I’m sorry. I want to. I don’t know how to love you how you deserve, I don’t even know how to love myself. Im weak and pathetic, really. If you knew the real me, I think you’d hate me,” you chuckled, without humor. “As long as you’re happy, though. I’ll be okay,” you murmured, finally.

“Im not happy, actually,” she informed, suddenly, and you felt your heart leap into your throat. “I love you, y/n. I don’t care if it’ll make everything more difficult, or if you think I’ll hate you. I won’t, by the way,”

you didn’t know how to respond. aeri did it, for you.

she got up, walked over to your bed, and made you sit up.

“so can you stop being scared? I love you, and-“

you cut her off.

you clutched her face, and kissed her, desperately. You felt tears well in your eyes, and this time, they fell. You pulled back.

“aeri, I love you, I love you so much. I love you, please forgive me. I’ll try, I swear. Please, just-”

she kissed you, again. nothing was completely fixed, yet, but you both loved each other. You were still scared, of course, but aeri had seen you at your worst, already, and was still here. so maybe, it was okay.

the tenth commandment. Genesis 1:1-Revelation 22:21 Love thy neighbor as I have loved you.

The last few weeks had been.. different.

You had started eating again, or, more frequently, was a better way to put it.

it was mostly because aeri had taken up cooking, and you could never say no to her, and it was kind of nice, really, to see her happy when you told her you liked the food.

you started to ignore the comments online, not even bothering to read them most of the time. You called your parents less, if that was even possible, and started talking with aeri and your members more.

it was nice, to have friends. To have people that you knew cared about you. It was nice to know that people didn’t view you as disgusting, or filthy, or wrong.

you had a hard time viewing yourself, differently, but if someone like aeri, someone so good, could stand you, then maybe, you weren’t as bad as your parents said you were. They were wrong about a lot, you’d come to learn.

on one of your breaks, you had found another statue.

it was of Saint Maria.

you put it next to the statue of Our Lady. You thought it fit, in a way.

you didn’t attend sunday mass, or hear it. You didn’t pray much, anymore, either. but you kept the statues as a reminder, of sorts.

aespa had been doing very well, as well, and you didn’t practice late into the night, as much, anymore.

all of you were currently deciding what takeout to order, and trying to pick a move. no one could really come to a final decision, and you watched the bickering amusedly. You got up, heading to the kitchen, filling a glass with water. Aeri appeared behind you, a sly smile on her face as she wrapped her arms around your waist. “Hey, y/n,” she hummed.

“Yeah?” you replied, turning your head. she had a smirk on her face.

“I got you somethinggg,” she grinned, tilting her head, a mischievous expression on her face, her hands clasped behind her back.

“what is it?”

she handed you a gold necklace, with rose quartz in the shape of a heart at the end, a bashful expression beginning to take place at your silence. “I didn’t know if you would like it, but it reminded me of you, so-”

“It’s perfect,” you interrupted, a genuine smile on your face. “Can you put it on for me?”

aeri removed the silver cross necklace you had worn for years, and years, placing it on the counter. She clasped the new necklace, the gold sitting pleasantly on your skin.

you turned to her, holding her face before kissing her, smiling into it. You left the chain on the counter, a smile plastered near permanently your face. “It’s beautiful, aeri, thank you,”

“Of course,” she replied, with a very self-satisfied grin on her face.

“I love you,” you added, wrapping your arms around her waist.

“I love you too, you sap,” she rolled her eyes, good naturedly, but still held you, too. “Come on, let’s go back— i’m not letting them watch a disney movie for the millionth time,”

“So what, you can watch Deadpool?” You teased, with a grin.

“Maybe,” she replied.

it was definitely certain, now, with the silver chain thrown in the garbage, easily.

you loved aeri uchinaga

and you hoped, prayed, even, that the rest of your life would be filled by aeri uchinaga.

A/N: hi guys… so I love aeri uchinaga btw. uhmm so basically the catholic version of the Ten Commandments the ninth commandment is separated into nine “don’t covet your neighbors wife” and ten “don’t covet your neighbors goods” but technically all Ten Commandments can be followed by following the one big rule which is “love thy neighbor as I have loved you” and basically symbolism forever eve breaks all nine commandments but follows the one big one which is like love everyone which means she never actually sinned she just thought she did because she is doomed yuri ☝️🤓