rough cuts

it  hurts,  she  thinks,  in  the  worst  way  imaginable,  in  the  worst  way  that  it  can  when  she  already  feels  like  the  walls  are  closing  in  on  her,  when  it  already  feels  like  she  can't  do  anything  right.  when  she  had  once  stood  beside  him,  it  had  been  overwhelming  admiration,  a  deep  rooted  respect,  love,  but  now  it  cuts  much  too  deep.

"i'm—"  the  smile  falters  for  a  split  second,  the  words  coming  out  quiet,  quivering,  and  yeona  closes  her  mouth  before  something  too  raw  spills  out.  stop  doing  that,  the  words  echo  in  her  ears,  and  she  finds  her  eyes  flickering  down  for  half  a  heartbeat.  it's  instinct,  it's  her  defense  mechanism,  it's  all  she's  ever  known,  it's  all  she's  ever  been  good  at.  there's  a  pause,  a  breath,  and  she  feels  her  eyes  begin  to  sting,  something  hot  and  wet  and  raw  welling  up  in  her  inner  corners.  she  blinks  once,  then  twice,  wishing  she  could  fold  into  herself  enough  that  she  might  vanish,  that  might  disappear  from  his  sight  altogether.  maybe  this  was  the  reason  why  their  love  had  turned  cold,  because  what  yeona  feared  most  of  all  was  facing  herself,  and  for  someone  to  call  her  on  it.

"i  just  didn't  want  to  get  in  your  way,"  comes  the  quiet  confession  a  second  later,  barely  audible,  her  head  raising  just  enough  to  look  at  him  through  her  lashes.  the  words  feel  heavy,  thick  with  the  undercurrent  of  a  tide  they  had  been  swept  up  in  before,  and  she  feels  the  sharp  wave  of  déjà  vu  wash  over  her  without  warning.  somehow,  this  feels  worse  than  when  the  two  of  them  had  parted  ways  —  worse  than  when  she  had  been  confronted  with  the  hard  truth  that  she  couldn't  do  anything  to  relieve  her  fears,  that  she  was  tethered  to  her  anxiety  like  it  were  a  ball  a  chain.  this  hurts  so  much  worse  than  being  left  alone  in  that  room,  with  nothing  but  the  echo  of  his  words  and  the  sound  of  her  breaking  heart.

the  silence  settles  between  them,  pressing  into  her  bones,  thick  enough  that  she  can  hardly  breathe.  yeona  threads  her  hands  together,  desperately  trying  to  ground  herself  before  the  panic  takes  over,  squeezing  her  digits  together  so  tight  she  thinks  her  knuckles  might  turn  white.  her  mind  races  with  a  number  of  possibilities  on  how  she  should  respond,  but  the  truth  of  the  matter  is  that  she  isn't  exactly  sure  what  he  wants  from  her.  what  does  he  want  her  to  say?  what  does  he  want  her  to  do?  what  could  he  want  from  her  when  the  last  thing  the  two  of  them  had  said  to  each  other  outside  of  forced  pleasantries  was  a  hollowed  goodbye?  he  had  been  the  one  to  want  to  part  ways  so  many  years  ago,  but  yet  he  stands  here  seeming  oddly  frustrated  with her when  all  she's  done  was  follow  his  lead.  wasn't  this  what  he  wanted?

the  moment  stretches,  uncomfortable,  the  air  between  them  so  thick  she  finds  herself  resisting the urge to slump her shoulders forward in response to the weight of it all.  she  inhales  through  her  nose,  trying  to  remain  calm  even  though  it  feels  like  no  matter  what  she  says  or  does  next,  he  won't  be  satisfied.  she's  all  too  thankful  when  she  sees  him  begin  to  retreat  back  towards  the  threshold  of  the  door.  maybe  he's  making  the  choice  again  for  the  both  of  them.  maybe  he's  accepted  the  fact  that  she'll  forever  be  a  disappointment.

"i—"  something,  though  she  isn't  sure  what,  begins  to  escape  her,  perhaps  a  protest,  perhaps  another  apology,  but  it  gets  caught  in  her  throat,  tangled  up  in  barbed  wire,  torn,  the  very  second  she  hears  his  voice  spill  into  the  space  between  them.

stop  running  away  just  because  i  walked  in,  yeona.  for  a  split  second,  the  world  turns  on  it's  axis.  the  shift  is  near  violent,  tilting  so  suddenly  that  she  starts to  feel  nauseous.  her  skin  bristles,  somehow hot  and  cold  and the sensation pricking at her like thorns all  at  once. the  knot  that  had  been  wedged  in  her  chest  now  plummets  to  the  bottom  of  her  stomach, and it takes everything in her not to suddenly vomit.  stop  running  away,  her  breath  catches  again,  her  vision  blurs,  and  she  blinks  again,  hard  —  she  doesn't  even  realize  she's  crying  until  it's  too  late,  tired  eyes  burning,  the  first  of  what  could  be  many  tears  finally  breaching  the  threshold  and  spilling  over,  cascading  down  her  cheek  in  an  agonizingly  slow  scene.

"i—"  she  stutters  again,  heart  cracking  wide  open  in  front  of  the  very  person  she  hoped  would  never  see  her  like  this again.  she's  too  fragile  tonight,  teetering  on  the  edge,  and  he  isn't  playing  fair.

his  jaw  tightens  almost  imperceptibly  at  the  thought.

"you  know..."  his  voice  is  quieter,  lacking  the  certainty  it  carried  only  moments  earlier,  "you  always  do  this."  his  brows  knit  together  as  he  watches  her  wipe  at  another  tear.  "something  happens,  and  somehow  you  end  up  apologizing  for  it."  there's  no  irritation  behind  the  observation,  only  familiarity.  "you  apologized  because  i  walked  in.  you're  apologizing  because  you  thought  you  were  in  my  way.  half  the  time  people  don't  even  realize  you're  doing  it,  but..."  he  trails  off  briefly,  exhaling  through  his  nose  before  continuing.  "i  do."

his  eyes  drift  almost  absently  toward  the  computer  she'd  been  sitting  in  front  of,  the  untouched  session  still  sitting  open  across  the  monitor.  there  isn't  anything  there.  just  an  empty  project  opened  for  appearance  sake,  and  suddenly  the  whole  picture  feels  painfully  obvious.  she  hadn't  hidden  herself  in  one  of  the  studios  because  inspiration  had  struck  after  midnight.  she'd  needed  somewhere  nobody  would  come  looking.  "i'm  not  going  to  ask  why  you're  crying,"  taeoh  says  after  a  moment,  turning  his  attention  back  to  her.  "because  if  you  wanted  me  to  know,  i  don't  think  you'd  have  picked  the  only  room  on  this  floor  with  the  lights  off."  the  corner  of  his  mouth  almost  moves  into  something  resembling  a  smile,  but  it  never  quite  gets  there.  it  fades  before  it  had  the  chance.  "and...  i  don't  think  i'm  arrogant  enough  to  believe  this  is  about  me."

there's  another  pause  that  settles  more  naturally  between  them  than  all  the  silences  they'd  shared  since  he'd  walked  through  the  door.  he  studies  her  face  for  a  moment  longer,  "but..."  he  begins,  rubbing  his  thumb  absentmindedly  against  the  edge  of  the  drive  still  resting  in  his  hand.  "if  you're  trying  to  hide  here  by  yourself,  pretending  to  work  because  you  don't  want  anybody  asking  questions..."  his  voice  softens  not  with  pity  but  with  something  closer  to  concern  than  he'd  intended  to  show.  "...then  whatever  happened  probably  isn't  something  you're  supposed  to  be  carrying  by  yourself."

taeoh  doesn't  move  any  closer  after  saying  it.  there  are  lines  that  no  longer  belong  to  him  to  cross,  and  he's  aware  of  every  single  one.  instead,  he  remains  exactly  where  he  is,  shoulders  settling  as  the  weight  of  the  moment  catches  up  with  him,  meeting  her  gaze  without  trying  to  force  anything  from  it.  "you  don't  have  to  tell  me,"  he  says  quietly.  "honestly...  you  probably  shouldn't  if  you  don't  want  to."  a  small  breath  escapes  him,  somewhere  between  a  humorless  laugh  and  disbelief  at  the  situation  they'd  somehow  found  themselves  in.  "i'm  probably  the  last  person  you'd  pick  for  this  anyway."  his  gaze  lingers  on  her  for  another  second  before  dropping  toward  the  floor,  the  admission  leaving  him  before  he  has  the  chance  to  reconsider  it.

something  sharp  wedges  itself  into  her  ribcage,  and  it  takes  every  ounce  of  her  strength  not  to  show  it  on  her  face.  the  whole  thing  is  disorienting.  she  sits  here  now,  sinking  into  the  abyss  of  one  of  her  lowest  moments,  only  to  come  face  to  face  with  the  very  person  who  had  once  been  a  synonym  with  safety,  only  for  him  to  have  shut  her  out  soon  after.  the  emotional  whiplash  twists  the  dagger  in  her  heart,  her  mind  flashing  through  moments  of  tenderness,  her  nestled  in  a  warm  embrace,  only  for  him  to  turn  cold  the  next,  calling  on  her  weakness,  her  fears.  and  like  the  coward  she  was  back  then,  she  could  do  nothing  to  stop  him  —  or  worse,  prove  him  wrong,  even  when  her  heart  wanted  so  desperately  to  fight  for  what  the  two  of  them  had.

every  fiber  of  her  being  screams  at  her  to  run,  to  escape  this  uncomfortable  situation  as  quickly  as  possible.  it  had  been  three  years  since  the  two  of  them  had  crossed  paths  without  a  purpose,  without  it  being  for  their  careers,  and  yet  it  feels  like  everything  had  just  happened  yesterday  with  how  raw  her  emotions  feel  tonight.

"don't  be  sorry,"  the  words  come  out  automatically,  soft,  practiced,  but  sincere.  it's  an  odd  hybrid  of  yeona's  genuine  feelings  and  natural  instinct  to  not  want  someone  else  to  feel  bad  about  something  that  wasn't  their  fault  and  nari's  readiness  to  be  polite  and  to  shrink  her  own  uncomfortableness  when  facing  someone  else.  yeona  by  nature  didn't  want  him  apologizing  for  walking  into  a  room  he  had  every  right  to  be  in,  but  there  was  also  something  in  her,  perhaps  an  automatic  professionalism,  that  both  her  mother  and  kh  entertainment  had  instilled  in  her  to  the  point  it  sometimes  overrode  her  own  emotions.

"i'm  sorry  if  i  surprised  you,"  she  says  a  beat  later,  apologizing  on  instinct,  taking  the  blame  as  she  always  does  for  simply  existing.  she swallows gently, guilt  flooding  her  as  her  mind  finally  processes  his  words  in  full.  i  didn't  think  anyone  would  be  booked  here  this  late,  the  words  echo  in  the  space  between  them  and  yeona  feels  her  ears  burn,  ashamed, caught, turning  back  to  the  monitor  before  her,  one  window  open,  blank,  obviously  untouched,  obviously  unused,  and obviously  just  used  as  a  decoy,  toggled  on  in  the  event  that  someone  took  a  quick  glance  through  the  glass  as  they  were  walking  past.

taeoh doesn't want her apologies, especially not when she’s taking the blame for simply occupying a space she has every right to be in. he is fully aware how she always tend to shrink herself down to make things easier for everyone else, and watching her do it in front of him makes him feel like a total hypocrite. "you don't have to apologize. we're in the same building, it's inevitable plus it's all my fault for barging in." he doesn't step closer, keeping a good distance between them because he knows he lost the right to comfort her for a while now, but he also refuses to let her pretend she's fine when her hands are visibly shaking against the edge of the console.

taeoh looks at the way she moves off to the side, giving him a wide berth as if he’s a hazard she needs to navigate around, and the weight of what they became after all these years hits him all at once. he had been selfish. making the choice for both of them because he was too stubborn to sit through the anxiety with her and left her to handle the quiet wreckage while he buried himself in work.

"i'm not using the room anyway, so you don't need to clear out," he added as he shifts his bag slightly, eyes tracking the faint glare of the monitor reflecting off her face, noticing the redness around her eyes that she’s trying so hard to mask with that heartbreaking smile.

it’s truly infuriating how good she is at putting on a performance, how easily she offers to disappear so he can do whatever he needs to do. he wants her to drop the shield. he wants her to look at him and actually call him the fucking idiot he is, to lash out, to use him like how someone would use those rage rooms and dump three years of silent resentment right onto his chest because he knows he earned every single bit of it. "like i said i only came up to leave this drive here."

the silence stretches out again, but taeoh doesn't back out into the corridor like his instinct was telling him to do. he knows he’s the last person she wants to see at this very moment, the ghost of her worst heartbreak showing up exactly when she has no strength left to fight him off. but he also knows her well enough to recognize that if he leaves right now, she’ll just sit back down in that chair and let the panic eat her alive until the sun comes up.

he can be the bad guy, he can be the reminder of everything that went wrong, as long as it gives her a target for whatever she’s been bottling up since her world started fracturing.

selfishly,  she  wishes  she  hadn't  answered  that  phone  call.  she  knew  the  second  she  saw  her  mother's  name  flash  across  her  screen  that  tonight  was  going  to  end  up  like  it  did  every  time  she  spoke  to  her.  it  always  started  the  same,  an  exchange  of  forced  pleasantries,  her  mother  boasting  about  something  or  other,  before  the  conversation  turned  towards  yeona  and  her  recent  accomplishments  —  or,  lack  thereof.  when  was  she  getting  another  brand  deal?  when  was  her  next  photoshoot?  who  was  she  collaborating  with  if  anyone?  why  wasn't  she  on  the  next  cover  of  elle  korea?  when  would  i:ris  make  a  comeback?  why  haven't  they  announced  anything  since  the  beginning  of  this  year?  what  would  the  concept  be?  why  wasn't  she  part  of  a  unit  like  so  many  other  groups?  why  didn't  she  have  as  much  stage  presence  as  others  in  her  group?  why  wasn't  she  auditioning  for  commercials?  web  dramas?  movies?  trying  to  be  featured  on  competition  shows?  why  wasn't  she  working  harder?  why  wasn't  she  trying  harder?  why,  why,  why?

yeona  presses  the  heels  of  her  hands  into  her  eyes,  desperately  trying  to  catch  her  breath.  she  wishes  she  had  answers  to  everything  —  and  in  a  moment  of  fear,  because  she  was  too  scared  to  tell  her  mother  the  truth  (  that  i:ris'  fate  may  as  well  be  hanging  in  the  balance,  that  there  hadn't  been  talks  of  a  comeback  in  months,  that  kh  entertainment's  focus  was  slowly  waning  towards  other  groups  and  that  she  thought  supporting  her  group  members  and  being  there  for  them  during  these  unsure  times  was  more  important  that  fighting  tooth  and  nail  for  a  fried  chicken  commercial  —  not  to  mention  that  the  last  thing  she  wanted  to  do  was  be  forced  into  some  kind  of  variety  show  that  only  got  laughs  at  her  expense  )  she  does  what  she  does  best,  simply  smiles  and  assures  her  mother  that  everything  was  going  to  be  alright,  that  everything  was  going  well,  and  that  she  would  certainly  make  their  family  proud.

yeona  is  nothing  but  reliable,  steadfast,  truthful,  so  her  mother  believes  her  after  some  convincing,  but  who  does  the  dependable  one  turn  to  when  they're  the  ones  falling  apart?

the  brunette  shakily  inhales,  shoulders  trembling,  naively  wishing  the  universe  would  bring  her  the  answers  to  all  these  questions.  selfishly,  she  thinks,  is  it  so  much  to  ask?  is  it  so  much  to  want  clarity?  support?  reassurance?  safety?  to  know  that  things  would  turn  out  alright  even  if  you  had  to  go  through  something  tough?  she  wishes  she  could  have  as  much  optimism  and  resilience  with  herself  as  she  did  with  others,  but  the  reality  is  that  yeona  isn't  really  all  that  brave,  isn't  really  all  that  strong.

and  as  if  she  isn't  already  at  her  breaking  point,  what  little  solace  she  found  in  coming  undone  in  an  empty  room  shatters  in  an  instant. the door handle turns and suddenly she isn't alone anymore.

"oh,"  the  gasp  is  soft,  her  voice  tilted,  surprised,  and  she  quickly  snaps  back  into  nari  —  posture  fixed,  hands  at  her  side,  presentable,  looking  over  her  shoulder  with  a  gentle  smile  like  she  hadn't  been  seconds  away  from  silently  crying  her  eyes  out.  she's  half  expecting  it  to  be  her  manager,  or  some  of the other  members  of  i:ris' staff,  or  perhaps  chaeri's  or  one  of  the  other  girls  had  been  looking  for  her.  it  could  have  even  been  a  custodian,  given  it  was  so  late  at  night,  so  imagine  her  surprise  when  doe-like  orbs  land  on  the  very  last  person  she  ever  expected  to  see.

packing up was an unceremonious routine. he didn't bother sorting the legal pads scattered across the desk, just shoved them into his bag alongside a half-empty bottle of water with the plastic label torn off. he’d always had that habit when he was stressed, picking at the edges of things until they were bare. he liked things bare. it was probably why his own apartment looked like a holding cell -- no trophies, no framed posters, just a bed and a speaker which may sound like an exaggeration but that's simply how he likes it to be. if there weren't any decorations, there wasn't anything demanding he stay in character.

he only took the stairs to the fifth floor to drop off the master drive on the head producer’s desk so it would be there in the morning. he figured the entire floor would be empty. at this hour, most people had either gone home or passed out on the couches in the main lounges downstairs.

when he reached studio 4, he didn't even look through the glass panel before turning the latch fully expecting a vacant space. he was already halfway through a thought about whether he should stop by the 24-hour convenience store for an iced coffee or just go straight to sleep when the heavy door swung open.

the sentence he’d been about to mutter to himself just vanished.

the room was dark, save for the faint glow of the desktop monitors, but the silhouette sitting by the desk was instantly recognizable. yeona. she turned her head, and taeoh watched the exact moment her shoulders locked into place -- that instant reflex to look presentable, to look like the idol the public expected even when she was sitting alone in a dark room. it was the exact same mask he wore every single day, the one kh entertainment drilled into them until it became second nature, but seeing her pull it up like a shield against him felt incredibly strange.

they hadn't been in a room alone since the winter of 2023. for three years, their entire relationship had been reduced to formal nods in the hallway, polite greetings during joint company photoshoots, and the deliberate act of looking anywhere else whenever they shared a stage. back then, when the news was full of exposed relationships and the higher-ups were tightening security like a noose, he’d genuinely convinced himself that shutting down was the kindest thing he could do for her. she’d been drowning in the anxiety of losing everything they’d worked for, and taeoh, moving with all the emotional flexibility of a brick wall, had figured it was better to be the cold one and call it off before the company did it for them. he thought he was saving her the trouble.

now, standing on the threshold with a duffel bag slung over his shoulder, the logic of that breakup felt incredibly flimsy.

"yeona," his voice came out a little rougher than he'd intended, lacking the smooth tone he used for the cameras. he stayed right by the frame, not wanting to crowd her space, his hand resting flat against the wood of the door. "i didn't think anyone would be booked here this late, i didn't mean to barge in ." or maybe he simply didn't expect it to be her when there was a big possibility that it could've been someone else.