𝒍𝒐𝒗𝒆 𝒎𝒆, 𝒉𝒂𝒕𝒆 𝒎𝒆

her fingers worry absentmindedly at the cuff of her sleeve, searching for the shape of a real answer. "sometimes i miss when we were those rookies trainees and nobody expected us to be anything yet." another small smile. "we could mess up a dance break and only our instructor would notice."

"you could still mess up a dance break or two, and i'd cover for you," miru states with a gentle smile. there was something about the way chaeyeon spoke that almost broke her heart a little. where was the girl that always lit up the room and seemed to sparkle? she didn't want to see her filled with concern, so it seemed best if they just drowned into the relaxing experience for the day and distract themselves from who they were expected to be.

written for takada miru (@hdmiru) ♡

tokyo had a way of making anonymity feel possible, right? millions or so people poured through shibuya crossing every hour, each one too busy chasing the next train to care about 6'4" tall man in a charcoal hoodie tugging the brim of a baseball cap lower and lower over his eyes. a disposable mask covered the rest of his face, naturally. now the sunglasses were overkill (he knew they were) but paranoia had a funny way of making every precaution seem totally reasonable.

'i'm here.' he sends miru a simple message. seung-ho glanced over his shoulder out of habit before weaving through the crowd, keeping his pace measured... and he hated this. he hated that something as ordinary as wanting to see someone had to become an operation.

with her hat tugged low and a mask to cover her face, she had been waiting for seungho. when she spotted him, she waved him over before shaking her head at his question. "i only got here a few minutes ago myself." if they were like any other couple, she would've grabbed his hand right away, tugged him closer, but there was always a part of her who was scared of what others may see.

𝒇𝒕. @hdmiru

The story goes: Naimei found a café online with the prettiest little strawberry shortcake she'd ever seen and decided she and Miru had to find it. It had seemed simple enough at the time—follow the directions, grab a dessert, maybe take a few (100) pictures if the lighting was good; girly things. Somehow, however, one wrong turn had become two, two had become six, and now they were standing in a narrow side street she was fairly certain hadn't existed on the map ten minutes ago.

written for takada miru (@hdmiru) ♡

it's brutal out here! girlnextdoor's first comeback is everything fans hoped it would be and then some. three new members, a b-side track packed with attitude, new formations and dynamics to memorize, so many new things. every stage feels bigger than the last. so chaeyeon should be celebrating. she is celebrating; really, she is! but somewhere between the endless rehearsals and smiling for what feels like every camera in south korea, she's started to feel like a doll that's been wound a little too tightly.

which is why, the moment she spots miru after their final schedule of the week, she brightens up like a supernova. "unnie!" she says, falling into step beside her, tucking her exhaustion neatly underneath. "you remember our spa day, right?"

it's not like she didn't expect this. with girlnextdoor's debut being so well received, it's no surprise that the company's pushing them through with various activities and a comeback that's filled with so many things to look out for. on top of that, miru's responsible for the other girls and taking care of new members. she's got a lot on her plate.

that's why she's actually forgotten about her promised spa day with chaeyeon, but when the younger female brings it up with such a bright smile on her face, she can't bring herself to say no. "not saying anything actually sounds pretty nice," she admits with a soft chuckle.

"won mihyang," he repeated at length, savoring the manner in which her name rested on his tongue, "now you have seen me. and i see you."

"this shouldn't open back up until tomorrow. i've wrapped up many wounds before." mihyang doesn't know why she's explaining herself to him as there's a high chance they'll never meet again, but she'd like to see him survive. handing over a small vial as well as some bandages. "you'll have to wash the area, then make sure to disinfect it and wrap it again."

but even as he closed his eyes for a heartbeat, his exhaustion lingered, and finally it outweighs his pride. with a grunt, he approaches her slowly, dragging himself into the small circle of light where she waits with her cloth and her terrifyingly open heart. "fine," he extends his arm with a grimace. the gash along his forearm was weeping a sluggish crimson. souvenir from a ministry blade. "mend it, then, if your conscience demands the burden. but be quick, i have no desire to see what happens when your father finds a wolf in his attic."

when he gets closer, she gently starts wrapping up his gash, trying her best to make sure it doesn't do any more harm. mihyang's been taught the basics from the mother, and she's treated many wounded scholars before, but the scale of his cut was a lot more grandiose than she's ever experienced. just what on earth had he been fighting?

sakura, a soft balloon finding somewhere safe to land, reaches her groupmate. japanese comes to her without resistance, settling on her tongue in relief. she doesn't have to measure herself, she doesn't have to pause and rearrange the sentence in her head before letting words fly. "…i'm sorry," she adds while her fingers fold into each other, careful, quiet. "i think i might be a little slow today." she uses a tiny pause to search, gently, for how to sound less like uncertain... she doesn't quite find it.

"there's… a lot of people," she tries again, somehow even softer, "and i don't really know where to look yet." the sentence feels incomplete, but also the closest she can get. the sleeve of her robe slips, brushing past her wrist. she fixes it instinctively, smoothing the fabric back into place, and then stops again, almost immediately, stares like she's aware of the movement only after it's done.

another breath, slower this time.

"but i'll follow your lead," sakura says, and she leans towards trust without naming realizing, too. simple and true. and miru is so cool… even back home, people talked about her debut in girlnextdoor like it was something everyone was supposed to already know. standing next to her, sakura feels small. her eyes drift again after, uncertain where they should rest, she thinks there are too many right answers and she doesn't know which one belongs to her? "…if that's okay."

she's seen sakura around before her debut. there was something a little too soft about her that made miru feel both frustrated and protective. miru recalls how there were days when she might've been kind of harsh on the fellow japanese member, but it seems to have all been worth it considering they've debuted in the same group.

"you'll get used to it," she muttered as the stylist made some finishing touches on her makeup. they had been selected for a shoot together, and miru could feel the intense stare from sakura as they were getting ready. makes sense, really, considering it's her first shoot and all. "just make sure to greet everybody. first impressions always matter."

he finally laughed. he was unaccustomed to the delicate honorifics of a house like this. "you've been 'involved' since the moment your father or husband decided a lock was an optional decoration for a front door, my lady." he bowed. seunghcheol usually did not waste motion on grace, but something in him told him to.

"those men at your gate aren't looking for a thief. partly. they're looking for a scapegoat to pin a century of administrative failure on, and i happen to be very, very good at looking guilty." his gaze averted vaguely toward the open lattice window, where the scent of plum blossoms was trying (and failing) to mask the metallic tang of his own desperation.

with a gulp, she wonders what she got herself into for a moment. she's always been an advocate for not judging anybody until she's had a moment to speak to them, but she couldn't deny that she was a bit scared of what may happen.

"the doors to our home are always open. my father's rules," she explains with another gentle smile, hoping that it calms him down if he was planning on harming her in any way. mihyang glanced down at the seal that slipped from his sleeve. was that blood? what exactly has she gotten herself into?

because  how  could  it?  haru  would  have  paid  a  premium  to  be  a  fly  on  the  wall  during  the  executive  meetings,  if  only  to  scrutinise  the  statistical  anomalies  and  projected  metrics  they  had  equipped  themselves  with  to  justify  such  a  glaringly  futile  venture.  clearly  some  of  it  landed,  but  haru  remained  thoroughly  unconvinced,  regardless  of  whether  he  were  given  the  opportunity  to  eavesdrop.

he  swallowed  the  bite  of  food  he  had  taken  and  washed  it  down  with  a  measured  sip  of  water  before  he  elaborated.  "there's  only  been  one  co-ed  group  that  achieved  relative  success,  but  even  that  wasn't  industry-shaking  enough  to  establish  a  viable  trend.  i  don't  know  what  makes  them  so  confident  they'll  be  the  ones  to  finally  make  it  work."

objectively,  he  knew  that  he  was  hyper-fixating  on  the  logistical  impossibilities  and  market  data—a  subconscious  reflex  to  distract  himself  from  the  anxiety  he  felt  towards  the  project.  nevertheless,  exposure  was  still  exposure.  if  the  group  turned  out  to  be  a  flop,  haru  assumed  the  failure  would  do  little  to  tarnish  his  image  beyond  repair,  remaining  no  more  than  a  blip  in  his  career.  it  was  the  sheer  financial  toll  that  the  agency  would  suffer,  if  this  was  anything  short  of  a  success,  that  was  more  concerning.

"my guess is they want to be the ones to create something that shakes up the industry," she states with a scrunch of her nose. miru doesn't know how to feel about the fact that they're literally being treated like guinea pigs for whatever grandiose idea hydra has. it's not like she has much of a choice, anyway.

letting out a sigh, she simply brushes a hand through her hair in slight frustration. "kind of funny how they presented it like we had a choice, too. when do we really have a choice, right?" it's mostly said in a whisper as she doesn't want anybody to overhear their real thoughts on the matter.