FEARLESS

It had started as a simple promise.

Weeks ago, during one of their late-night schedules, Eunchae had casually mentioned how much she missed doing normal things, things girls their age were supposed to do. Not filming, not rehearsing, not rushing from one schedule to the next. Just... living. Kazuha had promised they would make time. Finding a free afternoon had been difficult, but somehow they had managed it. And now, the two of them found themselves sitting side by side in a small pottery studio tucked away in a quiet corner of Seoul, both wearing aprons and staring somewhat skeptically at the lumps of clay in front of them. The atmosphere was peaceful, filled with soft music and the quiet hum of pottery wheels spinning around them. Kazuha studied the example pieces displayed on a nearby shelf before glancing over at Eunchae. "You know," she began, gently poking at the clay in front of her, "instead of making something for ourselves..." She paused, a small smile appearing on her face.

"What if we make something for each other?"

Resting her chin in her hand, Kazuha looked at the younger girl with obvious amusement. "I'll make you a mug, and you make one for me. But it has to remind you of the other person." She grinned. "So no pressure or anything. Just pour our entire friendship into clay." After a brief pause, she added with a laugh, "And try not to make mine ugly. It'll hurt my feelings." With that, Kazuha confidently placed her hands on the spinning wheel.

A second later, the clay collapsed completely.

She stared at it.

"...Pretend you didn't see that, Eunchae."

"A gift exchange?" she repeated, turning toward her with a grin. "Unnie, that's so much pressure" The pout followed "What if my entire friendship ends up looking like a potato?"

Still, as she settled her hands on the cool clay, she found herself smiling a little more to herself. Honestly, she probably would be overthinking this if it was any one of her friends but her unnies had built a confidence in her that she didn't express openly to most.

Before she could say anything sentimental, though, Kazuha's clay promptly collapsed in on itself. Eunchae froze for half a second then burst into laughter.

footlongskateboard: depends footlongskateboard: did u bring exact change

Honestly, fair. Sleek black car. Hoodie. Cap. Pizza handoff at some random ass corner. If this was a tv show, he would have started to judge himself too. Though the reply just hangs there, drafted, never gets sent because someone knocks now on the tinted window.

A quick glance, brain buffering before it fully registers.

The girl standing outside the car is trying her hardest to hide her face behind a curtain of orange hair. Which would probably work better if he had not seen her face already. Or if said face was not attached to one of the most recognizable idols in the country. Especially at the moment. Every TikTok dance challenge has her dancing nonstop with the current promotions of any active artist/group.

❝ No fucking way... ❞

The window lowers, slower than intended. Mostly because he genuinely just needs a second to process all of this.

❝ ⸻Shiiiiiit. You? E? ❞

Laughter escapes him, incredulous and bright. Too bright. Pointing between her and the phone like somehow one of them might explain the situation.

❝ You've been yellin at me in caps lock for like, ten days now. You know what? Makes a lot of sense, actually. ❞

The lock clicks open.

And because her brain was still trying to connect the chatroom to real life, it finally dawned on her that this was who she had been chatting with for the past week and a half. The same guy that would have to remind her to chill out. And this guy.... had been someone she's known for years now. Interviewed him and his group a handful of times. Sure, they wouldn't be considered the best of friends, but there was an established foundation there. Things they found in common through interviews.

At the sound of the click, she opens the door and immediately slides in, shutting the door behind her. Barely registering to any words that he said.

which, admittedly, wasn't entirely true. most people around the building had probably heard worse. still, he felt obligated to protest every single time. her accusation earned a look.

"me?" he echoed, pointing at himself with the hand holding his coffee. "that's interesting, because i'm pretty sure phones work both ways." his eyebrows lifted slightly. "last time i checked, anyway." the argument immediately lost momentum when she pointed out how tired he looked. soobin's shoulders slumped a fraction.

"wow," he sounded almost offended. "did the dark circles give it away?"

between the faint shadows beneath his eyes and the way he was practically carrying himself through the day on caffeine alone, it was probably obvious to anyone who knew him. thankfully, the mention of food seemed to distract both of them.

At his dramatic offense over being called tired, Eunchae lets out another giggle. "The dark circles helped," she admits. "But mostly it's because you have that look" She gestures vaguely toward him. "Like you're surviving off of Lixie-oppa's energy drinks"

neither option was particularly comforting. his gaze remained fixed on his phone until he rounded the corner and nearly walked straight into someone.

"oh-" james caught himself before actually colliding with them, taking a quick step backward. his eyes lifted to eunchae.

for half a second, he considered pretending he suddenly remembered somewhere else he needed to be. instead, he shoved his phone into his pocket.

"hey"

the greeting came easy enough, but he could already feel that familiar awkwardness creeping into his shoulders. it was ridiculous. he'd spoken to her plenty of times before. somehow talking to her now had managed to permanently short-circuit his brain. his hand rubbed briefly at the back of his neck.

"i, uh... saw your comeback with the other girls. i enjoyed it." information that he could have possibly withheld but now they were out there. maybe she would take it as a co-worker admiring the works of another. one could only hope.

But the tension doesn’t last long. It never really does with her. Not on the surface, anyway. At his greeting, and especially at the mention of her group’s comeback, something in her posture shifts almost immediately.

“Oh... you saw it?” The question comes out faster than she means it to. “What part did you like?” she asks next. Her mind trying its best not to show her deep rooted insecurities. “Like… choreography? Or the performance? Or-” She stops herself with a small exhale, shaking her head as if she’s overthinking.

“Sorry, that’s a weird question.” A quick smile appears, but it’s a bit tighter at the edges. Ugh, she's being weird again. There’s a brief pause before she adds, a little lighter again, as if trying to smooth it over:"

Car rolling in slow, expensive engine's softened purr as it eases into the location sent. A quiet corner. Not empty. Not crowded. Hoodie pulled over like always, cap brim sitting low enough that half of his face disappeared under the shadows.

Very undercover.

Very subtle.

Well, except for the car... obviously.

Just sitting there, both hands still on the wheel, staring through the windshield like the address might change or it would give him an answer if he stared and squint at it hard enough. Phone balanced against his thigh, pizza box warming the passenger seat, its aroma of cheese, potato, and whatever extra surprise he decided counted as generosity filling the inside of the car.

He still did not know who e.cetera was.

Just funny in a way that doesn't try too hard. Chill. Quick with replies. Short-tempered with the way her caps lock is always on, but in the harmless, sibling way that made him want to call her out but also make sure she ate something.

Easy to bounce off. No weird pressure. No flirting. No big mystery. Except, you know, the obvious one.

This whole anonymous chatroom thing.

Ah, yes. Her ubereats. She texts quickly to the mod 'rikipedia' about her food arriving, and she's suddenly dashing out of the studio, yelling out that she was going to lunch and not wait up on her.

She had been too occupied with meeting footlongskaterboard that she forgot to grab her baggy sweatshirt and a face mask. Son of a -. Whatever. It was far too late, and heading back upstairs to grab her belongings would only push this even further. Her eyes glance down to the instructions that her new friend gave. Damn, where they going to be doing some kind of drug deal?

Her head moved around, spotting the car at the exact spot that was given.

e.cetera: pls don't kill me

which was exactly how he found himself wandering through the quieter floors of the hybe building with an iced americano in hand that had long since stopped doing its job. he rounded a corner before spotting a familiar figure further down the hallway.

"chae-yah!" a small smile tugged at his lips as he approached, slowing to a stop nearby.

"hiding from me lately?" the joke came easily despite the exhaustion sitting behind it. he took another sip of his drink before glancing down the hall. "are you busy right now?"

he tilted his head slightly. "want to check if that tteokbokki stand is still here? my treat."

"Papa-nim!"

She quickens her pace the last couple of steps, stopping in front of him with an exaggerated pout. "I've not been hiding." The denial comes far too quickly to sound convincing. "You've just been... busy." A tiny shrug follows, one shoulder lifting as if that alone explains why she'd kept her distance instead of interrupting him between schedules.

Her eyes drift to the iced americano in his hand before returning to his face. "...You look tired. Like... really tired." The concern slips out naturally, replacing the teasing tone for a moment. She studies him for another second before her expression softens into a grin again, clearly deciding not to dwell on it. At the mention of tteokbokki, her eyes light up almost instantly. "...Really?" she asks, trying, and failing to sound casual. "You're buying?"

❝ Abuse my power? Manchae, my power is currently a mug of cold water and one dying claw clip. Let's not act like I'm running a dictatorship over here. ❞

Hand lowering, the words leaving slowly, each one turning itself over for inspection. The kitchen lights continuously hum, the air conditioner's uncaring little purr harmonizing with it. Gaze now dropping to the phone, chest, arms—grip too tight, bereft of the usual whiny theatrics. Not exactly. Something else had taken its shape in there. A little tiny wall. Small enough to pretend not to see, though big enough that this shared dorm life could unravel it immediately. Both a blessing and a curse. A gift—this terrible unnie privilege of a surveillance system one cannot just uninstall from the body.

Do you watch any videos of a certain someone on TikTok, unnie?

Everything pauses, making everything seem a lot louder that even the abandoned blonde extensions near the console table started whispering judgmental comments. A scoff slips too quickly. Too offended. Too theatrical to be clean. Hand rising across the chest.

"And why are there suddenly four people?" Her eyes narrow playfully. Purposely prolonging any phone confiscation. "When did we go from one to four?" Eunchae sits up slightly, curiosity winning out in this moment.

One of her hands loosens from the phone to push some hair behind her ear. "I want names. I want to see if I know any of the guys." Her legs unfold, then stretch out in front of her. The tension from her body loosening some as she straightens her legs in front of her and does small kicks to help wind down the excitement that coursed through her body.

"I need to see the oppas" Her free hand doing a grabby motion up to Yunjin. "I will let you have my phone for... ten seconds" That was a fair enough trade, right?

Actually, now that she was thinking about it. Ten seconds was far too long. Her tiktok was filled of thirst traps of a certain someone. A notes folder that she practically used as a diary, and saved photos and perhaps text messages that she didn't want her unnie or anyone else to see. Should she have suggested the ten seconds? The question haunted her as she locks eyes with her unnie. Now regretting that she hasn't changed the passcode to her damn phone. It's been the same since debut. Different phones throughout the years but passcode remaining the same.

Home sweet home.

Or whatever version of home existed between comeback preparations and schedules there is.

Refrigerator door closing with a soft thud, then footsteps, then...

"Unnieeeeeeeeuh..."

Chirpy, bright, too bright to be tagged immediately as suspicious. Very suspicious. Mug remains halfway in between lips, gaze drifting to its source—toward Eunchae, toward the expression, toward that very specific expression crinkling into pure instant recognition the moment it registers. Mug now lowering, slowly, as though a ticking time bomb that was set about a month ago is now being rediscovered.

❝ Oh⸻no. Absolutely not. ❞

Footsteps, long strides approaching more of a detective who had walked into a crime scene and found glitter, eyeliner, and one emotionally compromised maknae stretched across the couch like innocence with Wi-Fi access.

❝ Hand me your phone. ❞

Hand extending, palm opened confidence already armed with a search warrant.

Eunchae swipes her thumb along the backside to her phone. Acting as if she hadn't just tried protecting her phone like it was her cub. "I mean..." She clears her throat. "You abuse your power" She says playfully.

Meanwhile the device remains trapped between both hands. Protected, hidden. Had this been a year ago, Eunchae would have freely handed over the device without another thought. Be whiny afterwards? Absolutely. But still, would have given over the phone to any of her unnies had they so much glanced in its direction.

But now, there was a small... yet large wall that begun to form since Bali. Secrets that Eunchae didn't want to share with her members. Especially Yunjin when she promised to be careful. To not rush into things. Yet, she had done the complete opposite.

"It's not even that bad...." Eunchae adds.

Unsure if she was referring to the edit or something entirely. Suddenly, the tips of her ears feel warm. Her grip on the phone tightens though her mind had already wandered back to the looped edit she saw moments ago, and she could feel her chest tightening.

Oh now he wants to hold her hand? Out of obligation? She lets the messages sit there. Typing, erasing, typing again, erasing.