sana

gnabnahc: noona, can i come over? gnabnahc: i need you. gnabnahc: it's been a tough few days...

────── @saaanaaabby

gnabnahc: always know what to do

gnabnahc: noona, can i come over? gnabnahc: i need you. gnabnahc: it's been a tough few days...

────── @saaanaaabby

“oh—he’s cute,” she says quietly, thumb brushing lightly along the edge of the phone as if that might somehow translate through the picture. “look at him,” she adds, a little more animated now, glancing up briefly before her eyes fall back down. “he's got minnie's smile.”

she hands the phone back after another second, still smiling faintly, just as the glasses slide toward them. the mention of chris pulls her attention again. her gaze shifts to him, slower, more deliberate. like she’s actually picturing it now. him holding a baby. him being… good at it.

she forces herself to stop thinking about it.

“really?” she asks, tilting her head slightly, something curious and a little playful threading into her voice. “he doesn’t seem like he’d be everyone’s first choice.”

it’s teasing, light, but it opens the door. her fingers wrap around the glass in front of her, lifting it just slightly before pausing, eyes still on chris. “you’ve been holding out on me,” she adds, softer now, a small smile tugging at her lips. “i didn’t know you had hidden talents.”

He doesn't even register the glass being put in front of him until Sana's eyes land on him and he has to look away before she realises that he was staring. Smooth, Chris. Real smooth.

Reaching for the bottle, looking for a distraction, Chris pours the trio a drink each and raises an eyebrow at her words. Even if there's that playfulness he's familiar with mixing with the words, he still feels the need to respond.

To tease. To press. To know.

"You saying I wouldn't be your first choice, noona?" He sprinkles some salt onto the back of his hand before licking it while making eye contact. It was intentional, the action just the first step in tequila shots, but boy, did it hit harder than expected.

Lick, sip, suck. Fuck. That went straight to his... head.

The glass, now empty, is placed on the table as he tries to keep his wits about him. He's a few drinks in. Now there's tequila. Sana looks... good. Mix all of that with the atmosphere, the music pumping through his chest and the sensual lights, it's like a heady concoction designed to cause that control of his to slip. It's going to be a rough night if he doesn't play it smart — but the words slip out almost instinctively as if the game they've been playing hasn't stopped despite the fact Johnny has joined them.

"If you want me to show you some hidden talents, noona," Chris' signature smirk plays on his lips, those dimples coming out in full force as he pours them all another drink. "All you have to do is ask~."

her fingers tighten almost imperceptibly around her glass. it’s ridiculous, honestly—how intentional something so small can feel. how the noise of the room seems to dull for half a second while her attention narrows to him and the careless confidence he wears like second skin. she takes the shot a beat later than the others, more to give herself something to do than anything else, setting the glass back down with deliberate care. “mm.” her eyes lift to him again, slower this time. “dangerous answer.”

when he mentions showing her hidden talents, she lets out a soft laugh and dips her head, as if deciding what to do with that. “is that right?” she asks, glancing at him from beneath her lashes. “and here i thought you were shy.” it’s a lie, and both of them know it. she reaches for the lime, taking her time before biting into it, then sets it aside and leans back into her seat. her posture is relaxed, but there’s a new awareness in the air now—something stretched tighter between them than it had been ten minutes ago.

her gaze flicks to his mouth once, then away. only then does she turn toward johnny, a smile touching the corner of her lips like she’s inviting him into the joke. “tell me honestly—has he always been this bold after tequila, or am i getting a special performance tonight?”

"Why can't it be both?" He mutters to himself as he sighs and shakes his head as he knows that his time is limited in acting like he's not being put in a situation where he has to think about what he's going to say. "What kind of honesty are you expecting me to share with her, hyung?"

'Hey, Sana, ever since that night in the studio, I've been thinking about you in ways that I shouldn't.'

A soft scoff leaves Chris as the thought runs through his mind and a hand reaches up to ruffle his messy hair. "She doesn't think about me like that, hyung. I'm not risking something good like what we have because—" he stops himself as Sana gets closer. "She deserves better than what I have to offer."

There's the detrimental state of mind coming through. Those thoughts of him not being able to fulfil what a woman wants because the one time he tried — look at what happened. He couldn't disappoint Sana like that. He couldn't put himself through that again because he'd lose so much more than himself.

He'd lose her.

Clearing his throat as Sana reaches them, Chris decides to try and distract Johnny once more with baby pictures and talking about himself. "Noona, you should see pictures of Jimmy." He takes the drinks from her, placing them down without a thought, "Hyung, show her."

still, when sana reached the table, johnny naturally fell back into devoted-dad mode, as if they'd never left the subject. "you like kids?" he asked her, only waiting half a moment before handing over the phone with a picture of jimmy on the screen. "he's sitting up all by himself now. grabs everything that isn't nailed down and tries to put it in his mouth." he looks over at chris while sana is distracted and gives him a knowing smirk. "you know, it's my first night out in a while. let's make the most of it, yeah?" he flags down the bartender to get a bottle of tequila for the table, and no sooner does a bottle along with 3 glasses appear.

"you know, sana, you should really see how good chris is with the baby." girls love when guys are good with kids, he thinks to himself. "jimmy's very picky about who he let's hold him, but he went to chris here no problem." he pours as he talks, sliding two of the glasses toward the younger idols. "you should come meet him soon. chris can bring you by. he knows the way."

“oh—he’s cute,” she says quietly, thumb brushing lightly along the edge of the phone as if that might somehow translate through the picture. “look at him,” she adds, a little more animated now, glancing up briefly before her eyes fall back down. “he's got minnie's smile.”

she hands the phone back after another second, still smiling faintly, just as the glasses slide toward them. the mention of chris pulls her attention again. her gaze shifts to him, slower, more deliberate. like she’s actually picturing it now. him holding a baby. him being… good at it.

she forces herself to stop thinking about it.

“really?” she asks, tilting her head slightly, something curious and a little playful threading into her voice. “he doesn’t seem like he’d be everyone’s first choice.”

it’s teasing, light, but it opens the door. her fingers wrap around the glass in front of her, lifting it just slightly before pausing, eyes still on chris. “you’ve been holding out on me,” she adds, softer now, a small smile tugging at her lips. “i didn’t know you had hidden talents.”

“…that’s never a good sign,” she murmurs faintly, voice rough with the kind of dread that only comes from knowing herself too well. but nayeon shifts, and suddenly the moment softens. sana doesn’t resist this time. she lets herself be guided—tilting slightly with the glass, lips parting obediently for another sip, then another. slower now, more careful. her brows knit faintly at the sensation, like even swallowing requires concentration, but she listens. she always listens, especially like this.

her hand moves without thinking, lightly catching at nayeon’s wrist for a second as the glass tilts again—not to stop her, just… to steady. to anchor.

“…you’re bossy,” she mumbles, but there’s no bite to it. just something soft. familiar. another sip. she exhales through her nose, shoulders loosening just a fraction as the water settles, the edge of nausea pulling back enough to let her think again—dangerous.

“if he did react,” she adds after a moment, eyes slipping shut again as her head tips slightly toward nayeon’s side, unconsciously leaning into the touch at her waist, “i’m choosing to believe it was positive. for my own peace.”

something flickers—quiet, buried so deep it doesn’t even fully form into a thought. just a feeling. warm, brief, gone before she can question it. “…he didn’t, like… look at me weird, right?” softer now, almost offhand, like she doesn’t really care. like it’s just another passing thought. her grip loosens as nayeon pulls away, but her fingers linger for a second before falling back to her lap, already missing the contact even as she pretends not to.

An almost automated response by now—considering how frequent and so Nayeon-coded that description is. No real argument behind it, of course. Just habit. Familiar as breathing. Her hand adjusts once more around Sana's waist before easing away, slowly and carefully.

❝ I'm out here saving your life, okay? ❞

A chuckle almost slips, her voice much softer now, almost absentmindedly steadying the glass for that one last sip, before easing it away. Eyes trained to watch Sana for a second longer, just to make sure.

…He didn’t, like… look at me weird, right?

The kitchen welcoming her like a survivor of war, carefully tip-toeing into the next phase of the battlefield, suddenly pausing mid-step. Enough for the voice behind her to catch up and register 1.5 seconds too late. The question finally cataloging in her brain, causing her lips to press together. Not to hide or control any form of laughter this time, just something quieter... more thoughtful.

❝ ...Huh? Wait⸻ ❞

There's a small clink as she sets the pot down, glancing over her shoulder. Features still threaded with disbelief, eyes still narrow as if trying to understand the priorities happening here—like trying to piece together the logic and inevitably failing.

❝ Sana... my baby, don't worry about that. It doesn't matter what he thinks. But... you know what I think? ❞

Think—the word floats through the jagged edges of her own mildly fading headache, suspended there somewhere yet she manages to catch it. Corner of her mouth finds its strength to tug once again, glancing over her shoulder.

❝ I think you're still 너무 예뻐 (very pretty). ❞ Answer so casual, because obviously, it doesn't even need to be said—a known fact, but her lips wanted to say it anyway. ❝ ...Even when you're being dramatic and clinging to bathroom tiles. ❞ A small huff. ❝ Even when you're drooling in your sleep... ❞

Earning the smallest, almost satisfied nod, unaccepting of any form of arguments. Case closed. Pushing off the counter, turning back to the stove, tone lifting just slightly as she watches the red broth bloom, a fiery amber spicy sea. The scent enveloping instantly—rich and savory. An antidote for both what's plaguing them.

If she ever manages to burn the ramyeon, it wouldn't even be noticeable at this stage.

“…you are,” she mumbles anyway, automatic, but softer—less accusatory, more familiar than anything else.

the water helps more than she expects it to. she can feel it almost immediately, the sharp edge of everything dulling just enough to think without wincing. by the time nayeon pulls away, sana is already straightening a little, rolling her shoulders carefully like she’s checking what still hurts and what doesn’t. she drags a hand through her hair, pushing it back from her face, then presses her palm briefly under her eye before blinking them open properly this time. everything still feels a little slow, a little heavy, but more functional.

when nayeon calls her pretty, sana lets out a soft scoff, but there’s a hint of a smile that sticks this time, lingering instead of disappearing right away.

“…you’re actually obsessed with me,” she says, voice still rough but lighter now, easier to carry. she leans her hip against the counter for a second, watching nayeon move around like nothing’s wrong, like she didn’t also nearly die ten minutes ago.

the comment about drooling earns her a look—mildly offended, but not serious enough to argue properly.

“…i do not drool,” she adds, a little more firmly, like that’s the one thing she’s choosing to defend today.

then the smell hits her.

ramyeon.

it pulls her the rest of the way back to life.

she straightens a little more without thinking, pushing off the counter and making her way over, steps slow but steady now, no longer cautious in that fragile, breakable way.

“…okay,” she says as she drops into the chair, exhaling as she settles in, one elbow coming up to rest on the table while she props her chin in her hand. “that actually smells like it might fix everything.”

she watches nayeon for a second, quieter, more grounded now, before her gaze drifts slightly, thoughts catching up again—but this time without the sharp edge from before.

“…and for the record,” she adds, tone slipping back into something teasing, something more like herself, “if i fall, i’m taking you down with me. i’m not doing this alone.”

she shifts in the chair, leaning back a little, one leg crossing over the other as she exhales again, slower this time. "after this, i think i need a really, really big coffee."

off limits. the words settle heavier than she expects.

for a brief moment, she doesn’t look away. doesn’t play it off. just watches him like she’s trying to understand where that line has always been drawn—and why she’s never questioned it before.

then, almost instinctively, she exhales a small laugh, soft and breathy, like she’s letting the weight of it slip right past her. “since the beginning?” she echoes, lifting a brow slightly, tone light again—but not as effortless as before. “you make it sound very serious.”

her fingers trace idly along the rim of her bowl, a quiet distraction, something to ground herself as her thoughts drift a little too close to places she doesn’t usually let them go. because she knows what he means. or… she thinks she does. and she doesn’t like how easily her mind tries to fill in the blanks. so she leans into what she knows—into familiarity, into the space where things are safe. her eyes flick back to his, a small smile returning, softer now, but steadier.

"I don't know if it's serious," he shrugs, pretending like the want is something minimal. "I think it could be though, depends on who you ask."

The underlying meaning to his words hold more weight than they should but the casual tone in which he says them muddles it, making it sound like he could be talking about something as simple as watching movies using the studio speakers.

Something he has done before.

Food now forgotten, his attention now on Sana, Chris smirks a little at her mention of him following the rules. Good boy Channie, the one who'll always follow instructions, who'd never challenge the rules, who will always keep in line. Is that how she sees him or is she wanting to know if he'll break the rules for the things that he wants? He thinks about it for a moment, contemplating how to answer — even if it's light teasing, there's something underneath.

There always is with them.

His arm moves to rest on the back of the couch, closing the distance between them. That familiar tension building as they move dangerously towards that invisible line they've always drawn. His finger taps a steady rhythm against the black leather while his eyes rest on her, that smirk of his shifting into an easy smile when he finally answers.

“is that so?” she murmurs, her voice softer now, less playful on the surface even if the words still carry that familiar tone. her gaze holds his for a moment longer this time, searching—like she’s trying to see if he means it, or if this is just another one of their almosts. another moment that gets close, then resets like nothing happened.

because that’s what they do.

her fingers tap lightly against her own knee, absent-minded, a contrast to the steadiness in her expression as a small smile tugs at her lips again.

“and which rules are you thinking about breaking?” she asks, tilting her head just slightly.

it sounds like a tease. but there’s something quieter underneath it now—something more careful, like she’s testing him right back… even as a part of her hopes he doesn’t push too far.

she can feel it—the space between them shrinking, the quiet way he leans in like it means something, like he’s letting her in on something he doesn’t say out loud. her breath catches, barely, but she masks it easily, years of practice smoothing it over before it can show.

when he pulls back, she exhales softly through her nose, setting her chopsticks down with a quiet tap against the bowl. her expression shifts—not startled, not flustered, but thoughtful, like she’s turning his words over instead of brushing past them.

“that sounds complicated,” she says lightly, though her voice is just a touch quieter than before. her eyes meet his again, searching, like she’s trying to decide how serious he’s being—how serious she’s allowed to be. because sana knows this game. she’s played it a hundred times.

but not like this. not with him.

Not like they always did. Not like they always do.

Chris keeps himself in check, always relying on self control to keep him focused and out of the way of... everything. Always respectful, never touching, never lingering too close in case it gets seen as something more. However, whenever he's out of the way from watchful eyes... he lets his guard down due to the comfort of privacy.

Or the company he may keep. Like her.

He's testing, sure, taking things a step further before they go right back to the start. It's how they always are, it's what they always do. Light-hearted, in good fun, while there's something that lingers beneath it all — unnamed to keep it from getting out of hand.

Chris takes a moment, unhurried in his answer, as he places his bowl down next to hers, chopsticks standing up, before he leans back against the leather. His tongue presses against the inside of his cheek as he exhales sharply, his head tilts back slightly as he looks up at the ceiling, all while contemplating how to answer.

Without giving it all away.

"Because it's been off limits since the beginning." His head rolls to the side, eyes looking at her for a moment before return to their previous position — except now, there's slight tension in his jaw. "Not that it's stopped me from thinking about it."

off limits. the words settle heavier than she expects.

for a brief moment, she doesn’t look away. doesn’t play it off. just watches him like she’s trying to understand where that line has always been drawn—and why she’s never questioned it before.

then, almost instinctively, she exhales a small laugh, soft and breathy, like she’s letting the weight of it slip right past her. “since the beginning?” she echoes, lifting a brow slightly, tone light again—but not as effortless as before. “you make it sound very serious.”

her fingers trace idly along the rim of her bowl, a quiet distraction, something to ground herself as her thoughts drift a little too close to places she doesn’t usually let them go. because she knows what he means. or… she thinks she does. and she doesn’t like how easily her mind tries to fill in the blanks. so she leans into what she knows—into familiarity, into the space where things are safe. her eyes flick back to his, a small smile returning, softer now, but steadier.

“hm, is that right?” she murmurs, tone light, like she might tease him for it—but she lets it sit, softer than expected.

at his comment about distraction, she watches him for a second longer than necessary, the way he says it not quite matching the weight behind it. her chopsticks pause midair before she finally takes a bite, thoughtful.

she doesn’t push. not now.

instead, she hums quietly at the taste, nodding to herself as if approving her own choice, shoulders relaxing as she settles further into the couch. still, her attention drifts back to him without trying, lingering in the quiet spaces between his movements—the way he eats, the way he exhales, the way he just… is. it’s familiar. easy. a little too easy.

she shifts slightly, tucking her leg in closer, like grounding herself back in the moment.

when he speaks again, she looks over, catching that slight shift in his tone—subtle, but not lost on her. it pulls a faint smile to her lips, one that lingers as she taps her chopsticks lightly against the edge of her bowl.

“mm… depends,” she says, tilting her head just slightly, playing it casual. “what do you need?”

it’s open-ended, easy, but deliberate in its own way—giving him room to joke, or not.

Sana's been a part of his life for... ever, really. From the start. Maybe that's why he can relax like this around her, tease... flirt... without having to think so heavily about his actions.

He inhales another mouthful, chewing as he thinks about what he needs. Needs, not wants. Two different things that hold significantly different meanings.

"Depends." He says, that playful lilt in his voice, "what if I said I've got what I need, it's more about what I want that's the problem?" His eyes move from his bowl to her, taking in her expression and seeing how she reacts.

Leaning a little closer so that he's in her personal space, Chris whispers as if he's telling her a secret. "What if what I want is right here in this room?"

There's that hint, that slight tease of a double meaning in his tone, his words, as he stays in place for a moment before leaning back into place and shrugging.

she can feel it—the space between them shrinking, the quiet way he leans in like it means something, like he’s letting her in on something he doesn’t say out loud. her breath catches, barely, but she masks it easily, years of practice smoothing it over before it can show.

when he pulls back, she exhales softly through her nose, setting her chopsticks down with a quiet tap against the bowl. her expression shifts—not startled, not flustered, but thoughtful, like she’s turning his words over instead of brushing past them.

“that sounds complicated,” she says lightly, though her voice is just a touch quieter than before. her eyes meet his again, searching, like she’s trying to decide how serious he’s being—how serious she’s allowed to be. because sana knows this game. she’s played it a hundred times.

but not like this. not with him.

she doesn’t call him out. she never does, not like that.

instead, she lets out a light laugh at his teasing, the sound easy, familiar, like she’s choosing to stay in that space he offered her. “ah, so it’s my fault?” she tilts her head, feigning surprise, eyes widening just enough to sell it. “you’re saying you’re only here for the jjajangmyeon?”

her fingers tap idly against her glass, gaze drifting over him again—not obvious, but not entirely hidden either. when he gestures for her to sit, she follows without hesitation, easing down beside him, one leg crossing loosely over the other, the soft stretch of her yoga pants catching the low light. close—but not quite touching.

“that’s a little disappointing,” she murmurs, lips curving as if she doesn’t quite mean it.

and then—because she knows when to ease the tension before it tips too far—her tone shifts, gentler now, threaded with something more genuine beneath the playfulness.

“you should sleep more,” she adds softly, almost like an afterthought, eyes meeting his again but without the earlier tease. “even rocks crack if you push them too hard.”

a small pause. then the smile returns, lighter, brighter—like she hadn’t just said something that lingered.

As if knowing where the train of his thoughts are going, Chris sighs at her words, his head nodding ever-so-slightly. He knows. It's a habit he can't seem to kick — Chris and sleep have never been good friends ever since he was younger; nothing has ever really helped and the few things that do never seem to last very long.

So he works. Works. Works out. Whatever he can do to exhaust himself until the only thing he can do is sleep.

"Even rocks crack if you push them too hard." Sana's words cause Chris' lips to part slightly, as if he was about to share a secret that would unlock the mysteries of the earth until—

"Distraction." Chris affirms, lifting his glass to clink with hers and drinking it like it's filled with answers. It's not.

Grabbing his food, the blonde stirs the noodles before digging in like he hasn't eaten all day — or, half of it. A low, appreciative hum rumbles deep within his chest as he chews with slightly puffed cheeks. There's something about late night meals that hit differently especially when they are technically your dinner.

“hm, is that right?” she murmurs, tone light, like she might tease him for it—but she lets it sit, softer than expected.

at his comment about distraction, she watches him for a second longer than necessary, the way he says it not quite matching the weight behind it. her chopsticks pause midair before she finally takes a bite, thoughtful.

she doesn’t push. not now.

instead, she hums quietly at the taste, nodding to herself as if approving her own choice, shoulders relaxing as she settles further into the couch. still, her attention drifts back to him without trying, lingering in the quiet spaces between his movements—the way he eats, the way he exhales, the way he just… is. it’s familiar. easy. a little too easy.

she shifts slightly, tucking her leg in closer, like grounding herself back in the moment.

when he speaks again, she looks over, catching that slight shift in his tone—subtle, but not lost on her. it pulls a faint smile to her lips, one that lingers as she taps her chopsticks lightly against the edge of her bowl.

“mm… depends,” she says, tilting her head just slightly, playing it casual. “what do you need?”

it’s open-ended, easy, but deliberate in its own way—giving him room to joke, or not.

her hand pushes the practice room door open, easy, unhurried. “channie? you hiding in here?”

hyunjin’s there, of course. she lets her gaze linger just long enough, then pulls back, pretending to spot the wrong person.

“oh,” she hums, tilting her head. “oops..” she steps in anyway, smile soft and knowing.

She looked… good.

As usual.

Which, truth be told, annoyed him more than he wanted to admit. Still, it didn’t show. It never did when it mattered. If anything, the only real flicker of surprise came and went in the same breath, smoothed over the second he caught the name she called out. His gaze drifted over her from head to toe, unhurried, taking everything in without leaving a trace of it behind. And just as easily, it slipped away again, dropping back to his phone like she hadn’t walked in at all. “Mm,” he hummed at her little show, thumb idling across the screen before it dimmed to black.

A quiet exhale followed, just shy of a scoff, before he spoke, voice low, careless, like the whole thing barely held his attention. “Channie?” he echoed, the nickname drawn out enough to sound slightly off in his mouth, like he didn’t quite buy it. His head tipped back against the mirror as his eyes flicked once toward the empty corners of the room, a perfunctory glance that confirmed what was already obvious, before settling back on her. One brow lifted, faint, almost lazy. “Not seeing him,” he added, tone flat. “Still came in anyway.” His phone slipped from his fingers, landing beside him without so much as a glance, discarded the moment it stopped being useful. Only then did his attention settle on her properly.

she lets the question hang for a beat, like she’s actually considering it, eyes flicking around the room again before landing back on him. slow. deliberate.

“hm,” she hums softly, stepping further inside like she hasn’t already decided to stay. “pretty sure.”

a lie, obviously. but she wears it well.

her gaze dips briefly—his shirt, the way it clings, the careless sprawl of him—and then lifts again, light, uninterested. like she didn’t notice anything at all.

“you haven’t seen him?” she asks, tilting her head just slightly, all innocence on the surface. then, softer, almost to herself, “that’s weird… i thought he’d still be here.”

another step closer, unhurried. she stops just within his space, not too close—never too obvious—but close enough to matter.

nayeon’s words filter in through the haze, delayed, distorted—i can handle it, unnie, watch me—and sana makes a quiet, wounded sound in response, something between a groan and a whine.

“…don’t quote me,” she mutters weakly, already regretting every decision she’s ever made.

but then—

the laughter.

it hits her like a second wave.

her eyes squeeze shut tighter, free hand lifting to press against her temple as if she can physically hold her skull together.

“stop—” she breathes, voice fragile, bordering on desperate. “don’t laugh like that, i can feel it in my spine…”

and yet, despite herself, there’s the faintest twitch at the corner of her mouth.

it doesn’t last.

not when nayeon keeps talking.

not when the image gets worse.

her brows knit together, trying to piece it together through the fog—being carried, clinging—

you called him ‘baby’.

“i would not—” she starts, immediate and offended, though the argument has no real foundation.

silence. a long, heavy, horrified silence.

her eyes finally crack open, just barely, blinking up at nayeon like she’s trying to decide if this is real or if this is some kind of punishment.

“…no,” she says, but there’s no conviction in it. just disbelief. denial in its weakest form. “…twice?”

her grip tightens slightly around nayeon’s sleeve again, like she needs stability for what she’s about to process.

Would she risk it? Of course not. Not this time.

Maybe.

Yet, it slips... but just barely.

The ghost of it threatening to tug at the corners of her mouth once more.

❝ ...You don't remember? ❞

The truth is—neither does her mind have any recollection of the full details of the events that unfolded that night. Far from reliably accurate. Just tiny puzzle pieces taking form like a very slow-motion version of Tetris that requires more braincells which are currently on strike.

Another sharp inhale.

Once certain that the teasing mask had completely faded, her gaze immediately drops to where Sana is—half-folded, clinging to that bathroom sink like her entire life was depending on it, still somewhat processing her own crimes...

❝ Hey... don't think about it anymore. ❞

Soft and careful, shifting her head and guiding the glass of water for Sana to hydrate more properly this time.

❝ Small sips. Just don't fight it, okay? ❞

A somewhat steady hand slants the glass, the other coming up to the curve of Sana's waist. Another tilt, adjusting the angle just enough just so she wouldn't end up half-drowning her little sister while still in recovery. And the other reason is for her to ground them both.

❝ Just one more... There. Good. ❞

Tilting the glass very slightly, with utmost care, role shifting into something very nurturing and protective instantly like supervising something so fragile.

“…that’s never a good sign,” she murmurs faintly, voice rough with the kind of dread that only comes from knowing herself too well. but nayeon shifts, and suddenly the moment softens. sana doesn’t resist this time. she lets herself be guided—tilting slightly with the glass, lips parting obediently for another sip, then another. slower now, more careful. her brows knit faintly at the sensation, like even swallowing requires concentration, but she listens. she always listens, especially like this.

her hand moves without thinking, lightly catching at nayeon’s wrist for a second as the glass tilts again—not to stop her, just… to steady. to anchor.

“…you’re bossy,” she mumbles, but there’s no bite to it. just something soft. familiar. another sip. she exhales through her nose, shoulders loosening just a fraction as the water settles, the edge of nausea pulling back enough to let her think again—dangerous.

“if he did react,” she adds after a moment, eyes slipping shut again as her head tips slightly toward nayeon’s side, unconsciously leaning into the touch at her waist, “i’m choosing to believe it was positive. for my own peace.”

something flickers—quiet, buried so deep it doesn’t even fully form into a thought. just a feeling. warm, brief, gone before she can question it. “…he didn’t, like… look at me weird, right?” softer now, almost offhand, like she doesn’t really care. like it’s just another passing thought. her grip loosens as nayeon pulls away, but her fingers linger for a second before falling back to her lap, already missing the contact even as she pretends not to.

gnabnahc: noona, here you go~ exclusive, just for you.

practice had run late, and on nights like this, she lets herself stop by. not often, just enough that it feels familiar.

leaning briefly against the wall, she catches the faint hum of music inside and smiles to herself. still here working, as usual. she straightens, smoothing her hair, then steps forward and knocks. “channie, open up!”

Or so he'll say.

When there's a knock, the voice on the other side calling out to him, a smile plays on his lips. There's only a couple of people who call him Channie and there's only a few of them that are women so it's easy for him to work it out.

Standing up, finally stretching out his body, he walks over to open the door. His beanie is sitting on his head, glasses perched on his nose, while wearing a black tank top and grey sweats — looking nothing like the usual fashion icon people have started to know him as.

“hi, channie,” she says, easy and bright, like it’s the most natural thing in the world for her to be here. she lets him take the bag with a small nod of thanks, her fingers brushing his only briefly this time before pulling away. stepping inside, she glances around the studio, the low hum of equipment and scattered notes exactly what she expected.

“practice ran late,” she explains, setting the drinks down once she’s in, “and i figured you'd still be here. i went to the place with the good jjajjangmyeon on the corner.”

Offering Sana a seat first, Chris waits before pushing the glasses up to sit on top of his head, rubbing his eyes as if showing signs of irritation from staring at the screen for far too long. "Is it getting that obvious that all I do is live in this room?" His ears turn slightly red as he laughs and scratches the back of his neck, "but thank you, Noona. It looks good."

Ever the gentleman, Chris starts to get the table set up, asking her how she likes her jjajjangmyeon while setting out the chopsticks and napkins. There's a soft hum coming from him as he begins to prepare their food and before long, her bowl is placed in front of her before he sorts out his own. "The kids went home earlier, with fanmeeting practice going on, they need to get plenty of rest."

“a little,” she admits, a soft laugh slipping out as she rests her chin lightly in her hand, eyes following him. “but only because i know you.”

her tone is gentle, not teasing, more fond than anything. she watches him rub at his eyes, and something in her expression softens just a touch more—subtle, easy to miss if you weren’t looking for it. “you’ve been here all day, haven’t you?” she asks, quieter now, though there’s no judgment in it.

when the bowl is set in front of her, she murmurs a small “thank you,” already reaching for her chopsticks.

Her words cause him to chuckle softly, she knows him, a luxury not everyone actually gets to have. While Chris is well known by many different idols in the music industry, not many actually have the chance to know him like his members do — and the few exceptions.

“Mm,” he hums softly, nodding his head to confirm, “I haven’t been sleeping well lately…” Chris trails off, not wanting to dampen the mood by sharing his struggles with her. Always the rock, never the one needing someone to lean on. “I went home recently, I need to catch up.”

A lie, a small one, because everyone knows that inside his laptop are several albums worth of songs.

she doesn’t call him out. she never does, not like that.

instead, she lets out a light laugh at his teasing, the sound easy, familiar, like she’s choosing to stay in that space he offered her. “ah, so it’s my fault?” she tilts her head, feigning surprise, eyes widening just enough to sell it. “you’re saying you’re only here for the jjajangmyeon?”

her fingers tap idly against her glass, gaze drifting over him again—not obvious, but not entirely hidden either. when he gestures for her to sit, she follows without hesitation, easing down beside him, one leg crossing loosely over the other, the soft stretch of her yoga pants catching the low light. close—but not quite touching.

“that’s a little disappointing,” she murmurs, lips curving as if she doesn’t quite mean it.

and then—because she knows when to ease the tension before it tips too far—her tone shifts, gentler now, threaded with something more genuine beneath the playfulness.

“you should sleep more,” she adds softly, almost like an afterthought, eyes meeting his again but without the earlier tease. “even rocks crack if you push them too hard.”

a small pause. then the smile returns, lighter, brighter—like she hadn’t just said something that lingered.

she hears the footsteps, slow and uneven, and somehow that’s worse. witnesses.

“…i’m alive,” she manages eventually, voice hoarse and small, eyes still shut. a pause. “unfortunately.”

her hand lifts weakly, gesturing somewhere in nayeon’s general direction without actually looking at her. big mistake. looking would mean moving her head, and moving her head feels like a crime.

“water,” she adds after a second, like a dying request. then, quieter, more betrayed, “why did we drink like we don’t have jobs…”

there’s a beat where her brows pinch together, something sluggish trying to connect in her head. memories come in fragments—music, nayeon laughing, something about a challenge that now feels like a personal attack. nayeon’s words about channie filter through a second late, settling in.

“okay good,” she mumbles, shifting just enough to regret it instantly, a soft groan escaping her as she presses her forehead harder into the tile.

another pause, then the faintest huff of a laugh, ruined by the hangover.

“…he’s strong enough,” she mutters, voice still rough but edged with weak amusement. “could’ve carried both of us. one on each shoulder…”

her lips twitch like she’s picturing it, even if she won’t open her eyes to commit fully to the thought.

Close.

❝ You are alive. ❞ Voice soft at first, really trying to hold the illusion that it's serious. ❝ But⸻ ❞

That single syllable cracks together with that same composure that's been leaning haphazardly against the frame. Pushing off of it, disappearing just briefly. Baby slow steps, the sound of cabinet opening, faint clinking of glass that feels very loud and so offensive this morning, filling it with water from the dispenser. Coming back to her tragic heroine of a friend, crouching with visible effort just to hold out that glass of water out.

❝ You told me 'I can handle it, unnie, watch me' and so I watched... ❞

But then the imagery she keeps on painting is evolving with every attempt to speak despite their condition. How 'Channie' is strong enough to carry them both over his shoulders and took them home. How caveman and unrealistic is that? And her dear friend who's still negotiating with death finds it attractive?

It all starts with just a sharp breath through her nose, shoulders moving then...

❝ Pffffft⸻ ❞

Entire petite form folds—head dipping, hand coming to cover her mouth and yet the laughter just spills out. Bursting, hurting right in the ribcage.

❝ HAHAHAHA⸻Awww... Oh God, ah shit⸻ah my head.... You know... He probably did carry you. ❞ That one last huff of laughter escaping as she finally glances at Sana, a teasing smile slipping through despite everything. ❝ You wouldn't want to let go and you tried to tip him. ❞ Then with that same grin, wider this time. ❝ If you ask me, you were the one who was 'kinda hot' until.... you called him 'baby'. ❞

A pause.

❝ Twice. ❞

nayeon’s words filter in through the haze, delayed, distorted—i can handle it, unnie, watch me—and sana makes a quiet, wounded sound in response, something between a groan and a whine.

“…don’t quote me,” she mutters weakly, already regretting every decision she’s ever made.

but then—

the laughter.

it hits her like a second wave.

her eyes squeeze shut tighter, free hand lifting to press against her temple as if she can physically hold her skull together.

“stop—” she breathes, voice fragile, bordering on desperate. “don’t laugh like that, i can feel it in my spine…”

and yet, despite herself, there’s the faintest twitch at the corner of her mouth.

it doesn’t last.

not when nayeon keeps talking.

not when the image gets worse.

her brows knit together, trying to piece it together through the fog—being carried, clinging—

you called him ‘baby’.

“i would not—” she starts, immediate and offended, though the argument has no real foundation.

silence. a long, heavy, horrified silence.

her eyes finally crack open, just barely, blinking up at nayeon like she’s trying to decide if this is real or if this is some kind of punishment.

“…no,” she says, but there’s no conviction in it. just disbelief. denial in its weakest form. “…twice?”

her grip tightens slightly around nayeon’s sleeve again, like she needs stability for what she’s about to process.

── 「 ✦ STARTER ✦ 」 for @saaanaaabby

"Noona!" Chris waves to the woman walking in front of him, rushing over to catch her before she heads out the door. "Hey. Take this." He offers her an umbrella, totally not the one he was going to use, because he noticed that she wasn't carrying on. "It's going to rain soon and I don't want you to get sick." His dimples appear as he smiles genuinely at her. Opening the door for her, he makes no effort to impose his presence on her as the man is sure she's got things to do and didn't need to have her dongsaeng hanging around her. Not unless she was to offer. "You have a good night, hm?"

There's a heat that rushes up the back of his neck as Sana unleashes her puppy eyes on him. Shit, he's never been good at saying no to her — no matter how old he is. "Are you sure? I don't want to intrude." His voice is gentle, making sure that he's not pushing his presence on her — or anyone. "I have some free time, I was just working on some- ah, never mind. Do you want to give me a moment to get my gear and I'll come with you."

“intrude?” she repeats, a quiet laugh slipping out, light and disbelieving. “since when do you do that with us?”

there’s a flicker of something softer underneath it, genuine in a way she doesn’t always show, before she smooths it over with ease. “yeah, i'm not in a rush." she reaches out and gives his arm a playful squeeze. "do you want a hand, or can you carry it all with those muscles you keep flaunting online?"

It's foreign territory and if Chris is out of his depths — he adapts.

she steps into the elevator first, unhurried, like she doesn’t feel the shape of him just behind her, like she isn’t aware of exactly how close that almost is. but she is. “maybe,” she answers lightly, glancing over her shoulder at him, eyes bright with something teasing and knowing all at once. “or maybe i just know how you operate.”

the doors slide shut, and she shifts just enough to turn toward him fully now, leaning back against the mirrored wall. her gaze flicks once—quick, subtle—toward where his hand had hovered, before returning to his face like nothing happened at all.

practice had run late, and on nights like this, she lets herself stop by. not often, just enough that it feels familiar.

leaning briefly against the wall, she catches the faint hum of music inside and smiles to herself. still here working, as usual. she straightens, smoothing her hair, then steps forward and knocks. “channie, open up!”

Or so he'll say.

When there's a knock, the voice on the other side calling out to him, a smile plays on his lips. There's only a couple of people who call him Channie and there's only a few of them that are women so it's easy for him to work it out.

Standing up, finally stretching out his body, he walks over to open the door. His beanie is sitting on his head, glasses perched on his nose, while wearing a black tank top and grey sweats — looking nothing like the usual fashion icon people have started to know him as.

“hi, channie,” she says, easy and bright, like it’s the most natural thing in the world for her to be here. she lets him take the bag with a small nod of thanks, her fingers brushing his only briefly this time before pulling away. stepping inside, she glances around the studio, the low hum of equipment and scattered notes exactly what she expected.

“practice ran late,” she explains, setting the drinks down once she’s in, “and i figured you'd still be here. i went to the place with the good jjajjangmyeon on the corner.”

Offering Sana a seat first, Chris waits before pushing the glasses up to sit on top of his head, rubbing his eyes as if showing signs of irritation from staring at the screen for far too long. "Is it getting that obvious that all I do is live in this room?" His ears turn slightly red as he laughs and scratches the back of his neck, "but thank you, Noona. It looks good."

Ever the gentleman, Chris starts to get the table set up, asking her how she likes her jjajjangmyeon while setting out the chopsticks and napkins. There's a soft hum coming from him as he begins to prepare their food and before long, her bowl is placed in front of her before he sorts out his own. "The kids went home earlier, with fanmeeting practice going on, they need to get plenty of rest."

“a little,” she admits, a soft laugh slipping out as she rests her chin lightly in her hand, eyes following him. “but only because i know you.”

her tone is gentle, not teasing, more fond than anything. she watches him rub at his eyes, and something in her expression softens just a touch more—subtle, easy to miss if you weren’t looking for it. “you’ve been here all day, haven’t you?” she asks, quieter now, though there’s no judgment in it.

when the bowl is set in front of her, she murmurs a small “thank you,” already reaching for her chopsticks.