#chicposts

Ever since you were little, sleeping anywhere seemed to come naturally to you. Your mom would always shake her head, half amused, half exasperated. 'Are you narcoleptic or something?' she’d ask, watching you curl up on the couch during breakfast or nod off on the stairs as if they were just another cosy surface.

Of course, you weren’t. You just had this uncanny ability to fall asleep wherever, whenever, and however you pleased.

That habit, harmless as it once was, became a quiet superpower once you joined Katseye. Between early mornings, back-to-back rehearsals, interviews, and long travel days, your schedule barely left room to breathe, let alone sleep. So, you adapted—you learned to nap anywhere, even under less-than-ideal circumstances.

The girls quickly learned your tendencies, and honestly, it became a bit of a running joke. You could be anywhere, and you’d find the perfect angle to close your eyes.

Sometimes it was in the back of the van, sprawled across the leather seats with a scarf pulled over your face like a makeshift eye mask. The hum of the engine, the faint sway of the ride, and your uncanny ability to tune out everything made it almost impossible to wake you without shaking you lightly—or risk waking up a very grumpy you.

Airports became another stage for your naps. While your other members ran around dragging bags, fumbling through boarding passes, or trying not to miss the announcements, you would find a quiet corner—sometimes right on the cold, hard floor—and curl up into yourself.

Your head might rest on your backpack or just a wall, knees tucked under your chin, blanket hastily wrapped around your shoulders if you were lucky enough to have one. To anyone walking by, it looked uncomfortable, but you’d drift instantly into that deep, restorative sleep that made the chaos of travel fade entirely.

Backstage before concerts? Forget about it. The girls had often laughed as they tiptoed past you in the little green room or dressing area. You could be perched on a chair, sprawled across a couch, or tucked into the corner of a back room, and you’d be completely out.

Sometimes they’d leave little notes or a bottle of water beside you, just to make sure you were safe and had what you might need when you woke. Sometimes, they’d find you mid-conversation, nodding off with your phone balanced precariously in your lap, and carefully slide it to the side so you could sleep.

Rehearsal studios were no exception. You had a knack for finding just the right moment to catch a quick nap, often leaning against the wall or stretched out on the floor with a jacket or hoodie draped over yourself.

Even in the middle of warm-ups, during stretches, or between complicated choreography runs, the girls had learned that disturbing you was a mistake—sometimes resulting in sleepy grumbles, sometimes in a full-on grumpy tirade that left them quickly apologising and backing away.

Over time, your ability to nap anywhere became part of Katseye lore. It wasn’t just about sleeping—it was a testament to your adaptability, your ability to find rest and reclaim a little energy even in the whirlwind of idol life.

And while the girls teased you relentlessly about it, they also admired it. Because you somehow managed to take care of yourself in the little ways, even when the world demanded everything else from you.

---

An example of your talent of being able to sleep anywhere was when you were standing in line at the airport check-in counter. It should have been impossible as the lights were too bright, the floor too hard, the space filled with the low murmur of other travellers and the constant rolling of suitcases.

And yet you stood behind Manon, your passport clutched loosely in one hand, backpack hanging from your shoulder. At first, you were alert enough—shifting your weight, blinking slowly, eyes half-lidded as you waited.

But then, without even thinking about it, you leaned forward slightly, resting your forehead against the space between Manon’s shoulder blades.

Just lightly. Barely any pressure at all.

Manon didn’t think much of it at first. You were always clingy when you were tired, always finding small ways to anchor yourself to someone nearby. She adjusted her stance instinctively, giving you something sturdier to lean on, one hand casually stretched back to rest on your waist.

But then the weight shifted.

Slowly. Gradually. Unmistakably.

Manon stiffened as she realised you weren’t just leaning anymore—you were sinking. Your grip on the passport loosened, your breathing evened out, and your forehead pressed more firmly into her back.

She glanced over her shoulder, eyes widening just a little.

'Wait… are you—?' She whispered.

No response.

Your knees buckled slightly, your entire body trusting her without question as sleep pulled you under. Manon reacted on instinct, quickly sliding her whole arm back to steady you before you could tip forward completely.

'Oh my god,' she muttered, half laughing, half concerned. 'You’re actually falling asleep standing up.'

Sophia, standing beside her, noticed immediately. 'Is she asleep?'

Manon adjusted her grip, turning around to hold you upright as subtly as she could. 'I think so. She’s like… fully gone.'

Your head tipped sideways, cheek now resting against her shoulder, mouth parted slightly as you exhaled softly. To anyone else in line, it probably looked like a tired member leaning on a friend. But Manon could feel it—your entire weight slack and trusting.

She sighed, fond and amused, and murmured quietly, 'You’re unbelievable.'

The line shuffled forward, and Manon gently rubbed your back. 'Hey. Hey—wake up.'

You stirred, brows knitting together as you let out a small, displeased sound. 'Mm… five more minutes.' You mumbled, voice thick with sleep.

She laughed under her breath. 'Nope. We’re moving. You’re about to be checked in as luggage.'

Your eyes fluttered open slowly, unfocused at first. You blinked up at her, confused. 'We… landed already?'

Sophia snorted. 'She thinks we teleported.'

Manon nudged you upright, slipping the passport more securely into your hand. 'Come on. Stay with us. At least until security.'

You groaned softly but shuffled forward, still half asleep, instinctively staying close to Manon’s side as the line moved.

And just like that, you were awake again—if only barely—leaving behind another moment that proved you could, in fact, sleep absolutely anywhere.

---

Another time was in the rehearsal studio. It was buzzing in that familiar, low-level way. Music humming softly from the speakers, sneakers squeaking against the floor, the faint echo of counting and breath as the girls stretched and warmed up.

You, meanwhile, had found your spot.

At first, you were just sat leaning against the mirror, arms crossed loosely over your chest, head tilted back so it rested against the cool glass. Perfectly normal. Perfectly fine.

But slowly—imperceptibly—you started to slide.

Your shoulders rounded forward. Your chin dipped to your chest. One knee slid, then the other, until you were hunched over in a tight, awkward-looking curl, forehead nearly resting on your own knees practically slick with the floor. From a distance, it looked deeply uncomfortable—like your body had folded in on itself mid-thought.

Megan was the first to notice.

She paused mid-stretch, frowning slightly. 'Uh… is she okay?'

Daniela followed her gaze and immediately stiffened. 'Why is she shaped like that?'

Lara squinted. 'That cannot be comfortable.'

The three of them drifted closer, voices lowering instinctively, as if they were approaching a skittish animal. Megan crouched slightly in front of you, trying to catch your eye.

'Hey, Y/N,' she said gently. 'You good?'

No response.

Daniela tilted her head, concern creeping into her voice. 'Y/N?'

Lara leaned in, eyes widening as she realised what was happening. 'Oh my god… wait... she’s asleep.'

Megan blinked. 'No way.'

Daniela reached out carefully, placing a hand on your shoulder. 'There is absolutely no way she’s sleeping like that.'

You shifted slightly at the touch, letting out a soft, annoyed hum—but didn’t wake. Your breathing was slow, even. Fully gone.

Lara clapped a hand over her mouth, laughing quietly. 'She looks like a shrimp.'

'That can’t be good for her back.' Megan muttered, though she was smiling now.

Daniela tried again, gently shaking your shoulder. 'Hey. Hey, nap queen. Wake up.'

You jolted awake instantly, eyes snapping open as you straightened just enough to glare at them through your lashes.

'What,' you grumbled. 'Why are you all staring at me?'

Megan laughed. 'Because you were folded in half. We thought you were dying.'

You groaned, rubbing your face. 'I was sleeping.'

Lara raised an eyebrow. 'Bent over in the fetal position? Against a mirror?'

'Yeah,' you snapped, already sulking. 'And you woke me up.'

Daniela snorted. 'You can’t just power down like that and expect us not to check on you.'

You pushed yourself to sit upright with a dramatic sigh, stretching slightly before immediately frowning again. 'I’m hungry.'

The suddenness of it made all three of them burst out laughing.

'That’s it?' Megan said, shaking her head. 'That’s the crisis?'

'Yes,' you replied flatly. 'I want food. And I want it now.'

Lara wiped at her eyes, still laughing. 'She wakes up grumpy and starving every single time.'

Daniela helped you stand up before slinging an arm around your shoulders, steering you away from the mirror. 'Come on. Let’s get you fed before you curl back into a ball and nap on the floor.'

You let yourself be guided, still grumbling under your breath. 'You shouldn’t wake sleeping people. It’s rude.'

Megan smiled fondly as she followed behind. 'You shouldn’t sleep like a folded deck chair.'

But even as they teased you, all three of them stayed close—half amused, half protective—already used to the fact that if you stayed still long enough, sleep would always find you.

---

This one time had everyone in disbelief. It was during a concert delay.

You and the girls are already dressed, mics fitted, hair and makeup done. The adrenaline is there—buzzing under your skin—but nowhere to go. Somewhere out front, the crowd is loud and restless, chanting your name in waves that bleed faintly through the walls.

Backstage, though, it’s all waiting.

Crew members pace with headsets pressed tight to their ears. Someone mutters about sound checks. Someone else says something about a lighting issue. Ten minutes turns into twenty. Twenty stretches longer.

You end up on the floor.

At first, it’s just to stretch. You lie on your back near the wall, legs lifting up until your feet press flat against it. It’s comfortable in that oddly grounding way—blood rushing just enough to make your body feel heavier, calmer.

Your phone rests loosely in your hands as you scroll, thumb moving on autopilot. Every now and then, you hum softly, running through gentle vocal warm-ups under your breath. Scales. Little riffs. Nothing strenuous—just enough to stay warm.

The girls are scattered around the green room.

Megan is pacing, shaking out her arms. Lara’s sitting cross-legged, talking animatedly to Daniela about something she saw on the monitor. Manon is leaning against the counter, sipping water. Sophia’s seated nearby, watching the room with that calm, steady presence she always has.

Yoonchae, meanwhile, is spinning in a chair.

Then she stops. She squints. '…Guys.'

No one responds.

She leans closer to you, tilting her head.

Your phone is no longer moving. Your humming has stopped. Your chest rises and falls slowly, evenly. One arm has slipped limply to your side, the phone resting against the floor. Your legs are still propped up against the wall like nothing in the world is wrong.

Yoonchae’s eyes widen. 'She’s—' she whispers, already pulling out her own phone. 'She’s asleep.'

Instantly, she drops into a crouch, snapping photos like she’s uncovered a once-in-a-lifetime phenomenon.

Click. Click. A video. A zoom.

'She’s sleeping like a vampire,' Yoonchae hisses, barely containing her laughter. 'Who sleeps like this?!'

Daniela turns first. 'Wait—what?'

Megan freezes mid-stretch. 'No. She’s not.'

Lara peers over, then bursts out laughing. 'Oh my god, she actually is.'

Manon covers her mouth. 'We’re… we’re about to go on stage.'

Yoonchae is thriving. She circles you carefully, documenting every angle.

'Legs on the wall,' she narrates softly. 'Phone dropped. Zero awareness. This is insane.'

Before she can get any closer, Sophia stands. 'Yoonchae.' She says gently but firmly.

Yoonchae looks up. 'But—'

Sophia shakes her head once. 'Let her sleep.'

She moves quietly, kneeling beside you. Carefully—so carefully—she places a bottle of water near your hand, then a small snack beside it. She tucks them close enough that you’ll notice them when you wake, but not close enough to touch you.

The room softens.

Megan lowers her voice instinctively. Lara mouths she’s unreal. Daniela watches you with fond disbelief.

Sophia straightens and glances at the door. 'If they call us up,' she says calmly, 'we’ll wake her. Otherwise… we let her be.'

Yoonchae pouts but complies, retreating to the couch—still grinning down at her phone, already reviewing her evidence.

You sleep like that for a few more minutes.

Legs up. Body slack. Completely at peace.

Until a crew member sticks their head in. 'We’re ready in two.'

Sophia crouches again, brushing your shoulder gently. 'Hey,' she murmurs. 'It’s time.'

You blink awake, eyes unfocused. You squint at the ceiling. At the wall. At your legs.

'…Did I fall asleep?' You mumble.

The girls lose it.

Yoonchae practically shouts, 'DURING A CONCERT DELAY!'

You groan, sliding your legs down and sitting up slowly. You grab the water automatically, taking a sip like this is all perfectly normal.

'I was waiting,' you say simply, then glance at the snack. '…Oh. Thanks.'

Sophia smiles. 'Of course.'

You stand, stretch once, roll your shoulders—and just like that, you’re ready. Awake. Grounded. Yours again.

As you head toward the stage, Yoonchae whispers loudly, 'I’m posting those later.'

You don’t even argue.

Because honestly? Sleeping on the green room floor, legs on the wall, five minutes before a concert— that’s just… you.

And the girls wouldn’t have it any other way.

---

The apartment is alive with laughter. The girls are sprawled across the living room floor, camera pointed at them for a casual Weverse livestream.

Lara and Daniela are debating over snacks, Megan is trying, and failing, to balance a bowl of popcorn on her knee, and Manon is, of course, laughing her iconic dolphin laugh, high-pitched and impossible to ignore. Sophia leans back against the couch, smiling at the camera but keeping a sharp eye on the chaos.

Meanwhile, you’re tucked away in your room, wrapped in your blanket like a burrito, blissfully sleeping. Your bedroom door is slightly ajar, the soft glow of sunlight mixing with the flicker of the livestream lights from the living room.

You’ve found a perfect spot to nap, and for once, no one has to tiptoe around you—though they’d never admit it, the chaos of the apartment has become a sort of white noise that lets you nap even harder.

Laughter, chatter, the occasional excited squeal from the livestream all blur together in the background. You barely stir… until Manon’s laugh spikes into that unmistakable dolphin-pitch crescendo.

A faint crease forms between your brows.

You sigh in your sleep, pulling the blanket over your head a little more, as if trying to escape the sound waves entirely.

It works for about ten seconds.

Eventually, you give up. You stretch slightly, then push the blanket down just enough to blink your eyes open. The light feels too bright. Everything feels too loud.

You shuffle out of your room and stop in the doorway, rubbing your eyes as you take in the living room. All six girls are scattered across the couch and floor, snacks in hand, bodies angled toward the livestream phone propped up nearby.

Your gaze lands on Daniela's phone, she has her back to you, phone in hand as she reads the chat. You squint at the fans’ comments scrolling by although you can't really read them:

chatter01: Is that y/n asleep in the back?? whilst standing?? chatter02: Stop omg she's so cute I can’t handle this. chatter03: She looks grumpy already—adorable. chatter04: OMG she’s emerging… she’s coming for us.

You let out a sleepy hum, pinching the bridge of your nose as if the noise has finally caught up to you. Then, with your usual sleepy determination, you cross the room and plop down right on Manon’s lap without a word. The blanket comes with you, draped over both of you.

'Mm… too loud,' you mutter, voice groggy and eyes half closed. You nuzzle into her shoulder. '…But it’s okay. I love you.'

Manon freezes — just for a second — before her hand comes up to rub slow circles over your back. She laughs softly, somewhere between amused and melting, as you settle more fully against her.

The blanket shifts again, spreading across Lara too. She lets out a small, surprised sound before instinctively adjusting so you can drape over her as well.

Sophia moves without thinking, kneeling beside the couch. Her fingers glide through your messy hair, gentle and practiced.

'Hey,' she murmurs. 'It’s okay. Just sleep.'

Yoonchae leans toward the camera with an exaggerated grin, pointing discreetly at you. 'She’s not fun when she’s tired.'

Your eyes crack open at that.

'…Hey,' you mutter, lifting your head just enough to glare. 'That’s rude. And for that—' you pause, squinting like the thought takes effort, '—no bubble tea.'

Yoonchae gasps. 'Wait—no—!'

But you’re already sinking back down, cheek pressed into Manon’s shoulder again. Manon chuckles under her breath as Sophia shakes her head fondly, her hand still resting between your shoulders. Lara shifts closer, careful and quiet, making sure you’re supported.

The livestream chat explodes

chatter05: She’s literally laying on them all—this is peak Katseye content chatter06: I love that she’s so comfy and grumpy at the same time chatter07: Yoonchae’s bubble tea is officially cursed

You mumble something incoherent, barely audible, as Megan gently slides a pillow toward you. You don’t even notice — you’re already drifting again.

The room naturally softens around you. Voices drop. Movements become careful. It’s like everyone has silently agreed to orbit you without disturbing your sleep.

'Honestly,' Daniela whispers toward the camera, smiling, 'she can nap anywhere. Studio floors. Vans. Corners.'

Sophia nods slightly, squeezing your shoulder. 'She gets… very comfortable.'

You shift faintly, a quiet sound leaving your throat — something like 'too loud…'

Manon stiffens just a little, tightening her hold. Lara adjusts, easing your legs across her lap. Megan freezes mid-reach with a bowl of popcorn.

'Careful.' Manon whispers, barely audible.

The chat floods with laughing emojis and warnings.

chatter08: She’s just a baby, your honour chatter09: Watch out, she’s moving! chatter10: They’re all terrified but also smiling so hard. I can’t handle this chatter11: Manon is basically a living pillow for her right now

You settle again, head heavy against Manon’s shoulder. Sophia resumes rubbing your back, humming softly under her breath.

Lara chuckles softly, glancing at you. 'I swear, every time she moves just a little, we all panic. It’s like walking on eggshells.'

Daniela grins, whispering into the camera, 'Honestly, it’s worth it. She’s too cute to care about being careful. Even if we’re slightly terrified.'

Then—

'ACHOO!'

Daniela’s sneeze is loud, sharp, impossible to ignore.

You jolt awake instantly, blanket shifting as your head snaps up. Your eyes blink rapidly, unfocused, before narrowing on Daniela.

'Daniela,' you groan, voice rough and startled. 'You scared me.'

Her face crumples. 'I’m sorry! I didn’t mean to—I just sneezed!' She scrambles up onto the couch and wraps you into a clumsy, apologetic hug. 'I didn’t mean to wake you.'

You rub your face, then sigh, the tension leaving you almost immediately. 'It’s okay.' You mumble, letting yourself stay curled against her for a moment.

But you don’t fall back asleep.

You blink, listening again — the chatter, the girls, the warmth of the room. Yeah. You’re fully awake now.

Daniela brightens. 'So… we can be loud again?' She asks, hopeful.

You nod, sitting up a little as the blanket slips down. The energy in the room shifts instantly.

Megan couldn’t help but laugh, pointing at the camera. 'This is literally that meme! You know the one… where the guy sneezes and scares all the deer away from the deck?' She tilted her head, eyes twinkling with humour. 'And the woman’s like, ‘Oh nice, Ron,’ and he’s like, ‘What? I’m not allowed to sneeze anymore?’ That’s literally Daniela and Y/N right now.'

You chuckled groggily, a hand brushing through your messy hair. 'Yeah. Guess I’m the deer.'

The chat loses it.

chatter18: The deer got scared chatter19: Daniela is officially Ron and y/n is the deer. I love it chatter20: THE DEER 😭 chatter21:what is even happening in this live, someone tell me

You leaned back fully while Sophia reached over to smooth your hair, muttering softly, 'You’re ridiculous, you know that?'

You grin back, still sleepy. 'Yeah. But you love me.'

She hums. 'Unfortunately.'

The girls all laughed quietly, feeding off each other’s amusement while making sure you stayed comfortable.

Yoonchae leans toward the camera again, whispering, 'See? Even awake, she’s still a little bit of a menace.'

You yawn, stretching slightly. 'Careful. Or the bubble tea ban comes back.'

Everyone laughs.

And there you are — awake, warm, wrapped in a blanket and surrounded by chaos and care in equal measure. The livestream rolls on, the chat goes wild, and Katseye settles comfortably back into itself, exactly the way it always does.

---

Later that evening, after the livestream had ended and the apartment had quieted down, you finally pulled yourself away from the group.

The blanket was still draped loosely over your shoulders, hair sticking up in all directions, and your face was flushed from the warmth and lingering chaos of the afternoon. You stretched, letting out a big, exaggerated yawn, and lazily wandered to your phone to scroll through social media.

At first, you were just glancing at random meme accounts, but then something caught your eye: edits.

Hundreds of edits. Edits of you and the girls. Every moment from the livestream where you’d been asleep, half-awake, or completely out of it was suddenly immortalized in fan creations. Some were photoshopped, some were little memes with captions like:

Ultimate Nap Boss: She conquers all laps. When your favourite human is a blanket burrito overlord. Me trying to nap anywhere like Y/N. Do not disturb: Y/N is in hibernation mode.

You blinked, mouth falling open slightly, and then scrolled further. There were edits of you sprawled across Manon and Lara, one where Sophia was smoothing your hair with a caption that said: 'She’s too cute to handle—administer pets immediately.' Another showed Daniela flinching mid-sneeze with an exaggerated 'WARNING: Sneezes may wake sleeping goddess' overlay.

You let out a soft snort at first, but then a genuine, loud laugh bubbled out of you. Some of the comments were so outrageous and spot-on that you howled in laughter, clutching your stomach.

One edit had a fan scribbled dialogue between you and Megan, 'Move slightly and you die,' paired with your sleepy, grumpy expression—it nearly made you fall out of your chair.

'Oh no,' you whispered to yourself, cheeks flushing pink. '…that's embarrassing.'

Unable to resist, you quickly send the link of the funniest edits and compiled them into a single message, sending it to the group chat. Within moments, your phone was buzzing like crazy.

Lara: OMG I KNEW people were saving those moments! You look hilarious 😭 Megan: I cannot… she’s literally a burrito overlord on us all, I’m dead 😂 Manon: I’m offended AND honoured that you plopped on me for your nap. Now the entire fandom knows😅 Daniela: gurl you're actually adorable Sophia: I swear she looks grumpy but so… soft. I can’t even. Stop being cute 😭 Yoonchae: You’re officially the chaos queen of naps. I’m scared and in awe.

You buried your face in your hands, muffling a laugh.

You: Stop… stop! I’m never showing my face again. How did it get this bad?

Daniela, ever the cuddly instigator, sent a string of heart emojis and a teasing message:

Daniela: You mean the adorable chaos that keeps me entertained for hours? You’re welcome 😘 Megan: Honestly, I’m still laughing at that meme where you looked like a startled deer. I keep thinking about it every time I see you move even slightly

Sophia, probably the most fond and exasperated of all, sent a voice note, 'You have no idea how cute—and ridiculous—you look. I keep imagining this as a highlight reel of Y/N's nap powers. I… love you, but seriously,' she sighs drastically, 'Stop giving them content like this.'

Yoonchae chimed in with a laughing emoji and a single line:

Yoonchae: You’re never allowed to nap alone again 😭

You groaned dramatically, half laughing, half covering your face.

You: Okay! Okay! I get it! I’m a meme now, alright? I will never live this down!

Daniela’s reply popped up immediately.

Daniela: Good. You should enjoy it. You’ve entertained the fandom AND us. That’s a win.

You rolled your eyes, still laughing.

You: Fine, fine… but just know, next time I nap anywhere, I’m taking all of you down with me. Megan: Challenge accepted. We’ll be your blanket barricade 😎

The group chat erupted in emojis, teasing, and affectionate chaos, and you couldn’t help but grin, your embarrassment softened by the warmth of their jokes and love.

You leaned back on the couch, pulling the blanket over your shoulders once more. Even if the whole world had seen your sleepy, grumpy, adorable self plastered across memes and edits, you didn’t mind— not when it was wrapped in this much love.

Because the girls were laughing with you, teasing you endlessly, and making sure every moment—even your nap chaos—was filled with affection and warmth.

And as you settled back into your blanket cocoon, phone buzzing with laughter and emojis from the chat, you realised… maybe being a meme wasn’t so bad when the people you loved were the ones laughing with you.

'That’s not character, that’s hypothermia.' Manon added, exhaling into her hands before rubbing them together again.

Yoonchae was practically curled into herself on the floor, sleeves pulled over her hands as she tried to trap any warmth she could. 'I can’t feel my fingers…'

Sophia was near the speaker, hopping lightly from foot to foot. 'We should start moving, that’ll warm us up.'

'No,' Daniela shot back immediately. 'I refuse to dance until I can feel my toes again.'

The door creaked open. All of them turned.

You stepped in like it was any other day. Joggers. Loose top. Bag slung over your shoulder. No hoodie. No jacket. Nothing.

The girls went silent immediately.

'…What?' You asked, pausing just inside the door as all six of them stared at you.

Daniela blinked slowly. 'Why are you dressed like that?'

You glanced down at yourself. '…Like what?'

'Like it’s summer.' Lara said, gesturing toward you with a scarf-wrapped arm.

'It’s freezing.' Yoonchae added, her voice small but very serious.

You frowned slightly, stepping further inside and letting the door shut behind you. 'Is it?'

Six faces stared at you in disbelief.

'Yes.' Manon said flatly.

You shrugged, slipping your bag off your shoulder and dropping it by the wall. 'My apartment was warm.'

'That doesn’t explain anything.' Sophia said, though she was smiling a little.

You didn’t think much of it. Just shrugged absentmindedly and started stretching, like always.

The girls, however, went straight back to trying not to freeze to death.

Daniela resumed pacing. Yoonchae stayed curled up. Lara tightened her hold on the scarf. Sophia kept moving to stay warm. Megan sat curled against the mirror. Manon shook out her hands.

And you— you just stretched. Completely unbothered.

A few minutes passed. The room filled with quiet complaints, soft groans, and the occasional dramatic sigh.

Then there were footsteps. You didn’t look up as someone approached from behind, too focused on loosening your shoulders. A second later, there was a light weight settling against your back.

Lara. You can tell by the scent of her perfume. She didn’t say anything at first. Just leaned into you, her forehead pressing between your shoulder blades as she let out a long breath.

'Warmth…' She mumbled.

You blinked mid-stretch. '…What?'

But she didn’t answer right away. Instead, her arms slowly wrapped around your waist from behind.

'…Wait.'

There was a pause.

'Why are you so warm?'

You let out a small, confused laugh. 'I don’t know? I just am.'

Lara pulled back slightly, hands still gripping your sides as she leaned around to look at you.

'No, like—' she pressed her palm against your arm, eyes widening slightly. 'You’re actually warm.'

That caught attention.

'What?' Daniela turned immediately.

'Don’t lie.' Manon said, though she was already walking over.

Megan lifted her head slightly. 'What’s happening?'

'She’s warm.' Lara said, like she’d just discovered something life-changing.

You snorted. 'Everyone’s warm, Lara.'

Lara leaned back just enough to look at you properly, her eyes narrowed like she was trying to solve something.

Then without warning, she grabbed onto your arm. 'Come here.'

'Lara—'

She pulled. Your balance shifted immediately, your hands catching yourself as she dragged you slightly across the floor with surprising determination.

'Lara—what are you doing—'

'Daniela,' she called, not stopping. 'Feel her.'

Daniela turned mid-complaint. 'Feel wh—'

Lara shoved your arm toward her. Daniela grabbed it automatically and froze.

'…Why are you so hot?' She said.

'I’m... I'm not—'

'You are,' she interrupted, still holding your arm like she didn’t quite believe it. 'Why are you so warm?'

You pulled your arm back slightly. 'I’m normal.'

'No, you’re not.' Lara said immediately, already scooting closer to you again.

From the side, Yoonchae had slowly gotten up, curiosity pulling her closer.

'…Can I check?' She asked quietly.

You looked at her, then at the others. 'Uh… sure?'

She reached out carefully, touching your sleeve. Her eyes widened almost instantly. 'You’re really warm…' She murmured.

Manon stepped closer next, more composed, but clearly curious now. She brushed her hand briefly against your other arm.

A small pause. '…That is not normal.' She said simply.

You let out a small laugh, shaking your head. 'Why is everyone acting like I’m a science experiment?'

'Because you kind of are right now.' Daniela said.

Behind you, Lara had already re-attached herself. This time without hesitation. She leaned fully into your back again, arms wrapping around you tighter than before.

'Don’t move.' She said.

You sighed, but there was a smile in it now. '…You’re really committing to this.'

'I was cold,' she replied simply, voice muffled slightly against your back. 'I’m just nice now.'

That made you laugh properly.

From across the room, Sophia shook her head. 'That’s actually kind of genius.'

Megan finally pushed herself off the wall. Not rushing. Just walking over slowly.

She didn’t say anything at first. Just stopped beside you and watched. Then, quietly she reached out and tapped your arm. Lightly. Testing.

Her brows lifted, just slightly. '…Huh.'

You glanced up at her. 'What?'

She shook her head a little, like she was filing the information away. '…Strange.'

But she didn’t move far after that. Just stayed nearby. Close enough.

Meanwhile, Lara tightened her hold on you again. 'You’re not allowed to leave.' She declared.

'I just got here.' You said.

'Good.'

Daniela crossed her arms, still eyeing you. 'This is actually insane.'

Manon nodded once. 'Useful, though.'

Yoonchae hovered close, not quite leaning this time, but definitely staying within range of your warmth.

You looked around at all of them, still slightly confused—but amused now. '…You guys are weird.'

'Maybe.' Lara said into your back. 'But you’re warm.'

You huffed out a quiet laugh, shaking your head as you tried to lean forward again.

It didn’t really work. Not with Lara attached.

'Can I continue stretching or am I just stuck like this now?' You asked.

'No.' She said immediately.

Daniela snorted. 'You’ve been claimed.'

You twisted slightly to look at her. 'Hey! I’m not an object.'

'Debatable,' she replied. 'Right now you’re a heater.'

From beside you, Megan let out a small breath that almost sounded like a laugh.

You glanced at her. She didn’t say anything—just looked away, like she hadn’t meant to react.

Yoonchae hovered awkwardly near your side. 'Are you… actually not cold at all?'

You shook your head. 'Not really.'

Manon tilted her head slightly, observing you like she was still trying to figure it out. 'That’s impressive.'

Lara squeezed you again. 'Don’t move.' She repeated.

'I have to move,' you laughed. 'We’re literally here to rehearse.'

'Five more minutes.' She bargained.

Before you could argue, the studio door opened again. Everyone froze.

Your choreographer stepped in, already mid-sentence as he glanced down at his phone—then stopped.

His eyes lifted. Took in the scene. You on the floor. Lara attached to your back. Daniela standing there like she’d just witnessed something life-changing. Yoonchae hovering. Manon watching. Sophia halfway across the room. Megan standing close by.

There was a brief pause.

'…I’m not gonna to ask.' He said flatly.

The room went dead silent.

Lara didn’t move. You closed your eyes briefly. '…Yeah that’s probably for the best.'

He nodded once. 'Good. Warm up properly and let’s start from the top.'

'Lara.' You said.

'No.'

'Lara.'

She groaned dramatically but finally let go, her arms sliding off you as she leaned back with a sigh like she’d just lost something important.

'I was comfortable…'

'You’ll survive.' Daniela said, already moving back into position.

You pushed yourself up from the floor, stretching your arms out again properly this time.

'Barely.' Lara muttered, but she stood anyway, tugging her hoodie sleeves down over her hands again.

The group slowly reset.

Sophia moved to her spot, clapping lightly. 'Okay, lets focus.'

Manon rolled her shoulders back, posture straightening. Yoonchae shuffled into place, still glancing at you every now and then. Daniela bounced lightly on her feet, shaking out the cold. Megan stepped into formation too.

Then the music started. And just like that, you were dancing. The cold didn’t matter as much once you started moving. It never really did.

But still, between transitions, between counts, you caught it.

The way Lara drifted closer during breaks. The way Yoonchae stood just slightly within your space. The way Daniela brushed past you like she was 'accidentally' checking again.

Even Megan, quiet and subtle, stayed near. Not touching. Not obvious. Just… there.

By the time the first run-through ended, everyone was breathing heavier, bodies finally warming up from movement.

Lara immediately dropped to the floor again. 'I’m going back.' She declared, already reaching for you.

You laughed, stepping back just in time. 'No—absolutely not.'

'Traitor.'

Daniela pointed at you. 'You can’t just have warmth and not share it.'

'I didn’t realise this was my responsibility.' You shot back.

Manon crossed her arms, a small smirk on her face. 'It is now.'

Yoonchae nodded seriously. 'Yeah.'

You looked around at all of them. At the way they were watching you now. Different.

And you sighed. Smiling anyway. '…I’ve created a problem.'

Megan, standing beside you, glanced over briefly. '…Yeah,' she said quietly, 'you have.'

And somehow, even with the cold still lingering in the studio, it didn’t feel quite as bad anymore.

Because now they knew. And they weren’t letting you forget it.

---

Sophia’s apartment was quieter than the rehearsal studio. Softer, too.

The kind of space that immediately made you relax the second you stepped inside—warm lighting, blankets thrown over the couch, the faint smell of something sweet lingering in the air.

Except, it wasn’t actually warm.

'Okay,' Sophia said, setting down a stack of bowls on the coffee table, 'before anyone complains—my heating is broken.'

A chorus of groans filled the room.

'You’re joking.' Daniela said, already hugging herself.

'I wish,' Sophia replied. 'Maintenance said they’ll fix it tomorrow.'

Lara immediately grabbed one of the blankets off the couch. 'I’m not surviving this.'

Manon shook her head slightly, though she reached for a blanket too. 'It’s not that bad.'

Yoonchae was already wrapping herself up like she was preparing for winter. 'It is.'

Megan, standing near the couch, pulled the sleeves of her hoodie over her hands, shoulders hunching slightly.

'…Why is it colder inside than outside?' She muttered.

You, meanwhile, didn’t think much of it.

'Feels fine to me.' You said casually, kicking your shoes off and heading toward the floor.

Six heads turned.

'…Of course you’d say that.' Daniela muttered.

You just laughed lightly, dropping down onto the rug in front of the coffee table, grabbing a slice of pizza without a second thought.

The others settled in behind you. Couch claimed, blankets distributed, bodies instinctively closer together for warmth.

Lara tucked her legs under herself, wrapped tight in her blanket. Yoonchae sat curled beside her. Daniela leaned into the armrest, hoodie sleeves pulled over her hands. Manon sat more composed, but still wrapped up.

Sophia hovered for a moment before settling at the end. Megan dropped down beside Daniela, tucking one leg under herself as she adjusted her hoodie and leaned slightly closer to the others for warmth.

The movie started. You were already focused on it. Sitting cross-legged on the floor, pizza in hand, completely relaxed. Unbothered. The cold didn’t register to you the same way it did to them. It never really did.

Behind you, though, it was a different story.

'Why is it getting colder?' Daniela whispered like the room itself was plotting against her.

'It’s been five minutes.' Sophia whispered back.

Lara leaned closer to Yoonchae. 'I can’t feel my toes again.'

Yoonchae nodded seriously. 'Same.'

Megan tugged her sleeves further over her hands, shoulders curling in slightly. '…My hands are freezing.'

Manon didn’t say anything. But she adjusted her blanket slightly tighter around her shoulders. And then her eyes briefly flicked to you.

Still sitting there. In a t-shirt. Completely fine.

About twenty minutes in, the movie had settled into a quieter scene. The room dim. The only real light coming from the TV.

You were focused, halfway through another slice of pizza, so you didn’t hear it at first. The quiet shift behind you. The soft movement of fabric.

Not until something moved behind you. Close and sudden. And then there were arms. You flinched. A sharp inhale leaving you as your shoulders tensed instinctively.

'Hey—hey, it’s just me.' Manon’s voice came quickly, calm and low.

You turned your head slightly, still a little startled. '…Manon?'

'Yeah.' She said simply.

Before you could question it further, you felt it. The blanket. It draped around you from behind, settling over your shoulders as her arms wrapped loosely around your middle, pulling you back just slightly— not forcefully. Just enough. Tucking you in.

You blinked. 'Oh.'

It clicked. The warmth wasn’t just yours anymore.

You felt her shift behind you, settling properly, her chin resting lightly near your shoulder as she adjusted the blanket to cover both of you.

'Continue watching.' She said quietly.

There was no teasing in her voice. No big explanation. Just… simple.

You hesitated for a second, then relaxed. Your shoulders dropped. The initial surprise fading quickly as you leaned back slightly into her hold without really thinking about it.

It was warm. Not overwhelming. Not tight. Just… steady.

You could feel the contrast more clearly now—your warmth against the cool air, the blanket trapping it in, her arms holding it there.

'…You were cold.' You murmured.

'A little.' She admitted.

That was it. You huffed a small, amused breath, shaking your head lightly. '…You could’ve just asked.'

'I could have.' She said.

Then after a moment of silence. '…This was easier.'

That made you smile.

Behind you, Lara noticed first.

'…Hey,' she whispered, nudging Yoonchae slightly. 'Look.'

Yoonchae peeked over. Her eyes widened a little.

'She stole her.' Daniela whispered dramatically.

Megan leaned forward slightly, peeking past Daniela, her brows lifting. '…Oh, we’re just doing that now?' She murmured, half amused, half impressed.

Sophia glanced over too, trying not to laugh.

Manon didn’t react. Didn’t move. She just stayed there, calm and composed, like this was the most normal thing in the world.

And you? You just… let it happen. Because it was warm.

The movie continued. Soft dialogue filling the room. Occasional quiet reactions from the others.

But now, you were aware of it. The difference. The way the blanket held the warmth in. The way Manon’s arms rested comfortably around you. The way your back leaned lightly against her without resistance.

It wasn’t overwhelming. It wasn’t strange. It just made sense.

After a while, you didn’t even think about it anymore. You just reached for another slice of pizza, still watching the movie, still completely at ease, now just… slightly more shared.

And behind you, Manon stayed exactly where she was. Quiet. Warm. Not saying anything. Just keeping you there. Like it was already understood.

Across the couch, Lara pulled her blanket tighter. '…I want a turn later.' She muttered.

'You’re not scheduling her.' Daniela whispered back.

Yoonchae nodded softly. 'We can take turns.'

Megan leaned back into the couch again, adjusting her hoodie with a small huff. '…I’m adding myself to that list.'

Sophia covered her mouth, trying not to laugh.

You didn’t hear that part. Too focused on the movie. Too comfortable where you were. Too unaware that this was quickly becoming a very real system in the group.

And that you were right at the centre of it.

---

Airports always felt the same. Bright. Busy. A constant hum of movement and voices blending together—rolling suitcases, distant announcements, people rushing past like they were always just about to be late.

The group moved together through it all, a small cluster of familiar energy in the middle of the chaos.

Bags in hand. Passports ready. Half awake.

'Why is it always so cold in here?' Daniela complained, tugging at the sleeves of her hoodie as she walked.

'It’s an airport,' Manon replied simply. 'It’s always like this.'

'That doesn’t mean I have to like it.'

Lara adjusted the strap of her bag on her shoulder, bundled up properly this time. 'At least we dressed for it today.'

'That’s because we learned.' Daniela shot back, glancing briefly at you.

You're walking alongside them in your usual sweats, a loose top and a hoodie that you weren’t even wearing. It was slung over your arm instead.

Sophia noticed immediately. Of course she did. '…You brought a hoodie.' She said, eyeing you.

'Yeah.'

'You’re not wearing it.'

You shrugged. 'I don’t need it.'

She stared at you for a second. Then shook her head with a quiet sigh, like she’d already accepted this about you.

Ahead of you, Yoonchae walked quietly, hands tucked into the sleeves of her own hoodie.

She looked smaller like that. More bundled. But even from a distance, you noticed it.

The slight hunch in her shoulders. The way her hands were pulled in tighter. She was cold.

You didn’t think about it. Didn’t hesitate.

'Yoonchae.'

She turned slightly, blinking up at you. 'Yeah?'

You held your hoodie out toward her. 'Here.'

She paused. '…What?'

'Take it.'

Her eyes flicked between you and the hoodie. 'But—what about you?'

'I’m fine.' You said simply.

She hesitated for maybe half a second, then took it.

'Thank you.' She said quickly, already pulling it over her head.

She didn’t even take her own hoodie off. Just layered yours on top of it without a second thought. It looked ridiculous. Two hoods. Sleeves slightly too long. Fabric bunching.

Daniela stared. '…That’s insane.'

Lara let out a small laugh. 'You look like you’re wearing armour.'

Yoonchae didn’t care. She just pulled the sleeves over her hands again, shoulders relaxing almost instantly.

'…It’s warm.' She said quietly.

You smiled a little. 'Good.'

From behind you, Megan glanced over briefly, taking in the scene before looking forward again, adjusting her own jacket.

Manon shook her head faintly. 'You didn’t even think about that, did you?'

You shrugged. It wasn’t a big deal. To you, it never was.

Sophia, however, had slowed slightly to walk beside you. She looked at you. Then at your now empty arm. Then back at you.

'…Are you cold?' She asked.

You shook your head. 'No.'

She didn’t look convinced.

'C'mere.' She said, reaching out before you could react.

Her hands wrapped around your arm, rubbing up and down briskly like she was trying to warm you up manually.

'Sophia—'

'You gave your hoodie away,' she said. 'At least let me—'

She stopped mid-sentence. Her hands slowed. Then paused completely.

'…You’re already warm.' She said, more to herself than anyone else.

You huffed a small laugh. '... yeah.'

She looked at you for a second and then, without overthinking it, she shifted. Instead of letting go, she looped her arms around yours, pulling it in closer and holding it against her chest.

'Oh,' she said lightly. 'This works.'

You blinked. Then smiled a little. '…You’re using me.'

'Obviously.' She replied without hesitation.

You didn’t argue. Didn’t pull away. You just kept walking like that. Through the noise. Through the crowd.

Sophia attached to your arm, quietly stealing warmth. Yoonchae a few steps ahead, still bundled in two hoodies. Daniela and Lara talking quietly. Manon walking steadily beside them. Megan just ahead, occasionally glancing back to make sure everyone was still together.

It was… normal. Weirdly normal. Then the line for check-in came into view.

'Finally.' Daniela muttered.

You all slowed, merging into the queue with everyone else. Suitcases set down. Passports pulled out again.

Sophia was still holding onto your arm. You didn’t even notice how long it had been. Until— 'Next.'

You stepped forward automatically, grabbing your suitcase handle. And paused.

'…Soph.'

She looked up. 'Hm?'

'I need my arm.'

There was a brief pause then she blinked, like she’d forgotten. 'Oh—right.' She let go immediately, stepping back with a small laugh. 'Sorry.'

You smiled, flexing your fingers slightly as you reached for your bag properly. 'It’s okay.'

Behind you, Daniela snorted quietly. 'She got too comfortable.'

'I did not.' Sophia said, though she was still smiling.

'You absolutely did.' Lara added.

Yoonchae, still wrapped in both hoodies, nodded. 'Same.'

You glanced back at them briefly, shaking your head with a soft laugh before turning back to the counter. It was quick. Routine. Check-in. Bag tagged. Sent off.

But as you stepped aside again, back with the group, Sophia didn’t hesitate. She slipped right back to your side.

Not grabbing your arm this time. Just standing close enough. Like she’d already figured out exactly where the warmth was. And wasn’t planning on losing it again.

---

Snow in Los Angeles didn’t make sense. It just… didn’t. Yet there it was. Heavy and constant. Falling in thick, quiet sheets outside your window, coating the streets, the rooftops, the palm trees that looked deeply unprepared for this kind of weather.

The entire city had slowed down. And more importantly—it was cold.

Not just 'oh, it’s a bit chilly.' No. It was the kind of cold that seeped into everything. Apartments. Hallways. Walls that clearly weren’t built for this. Most people were struggling.

You? You were asleep. Fully knocked out. Not even under your covers. Just… on top of your bed.

Still in your clothes from earlier, sprawled slightly diagonally across the mattress like you’d meant to lie down for a second and never recovered.

Your blanket was half hanging off the side. Your pillow barely under your head. Completely unaware of the freezing weather outside.

Across the building, Megan was very much aware.

'This is getting ridiculous.' She muttered, now pacing her apartment with arms crossed tightly over herself after a failed attempt at sleeping.

Her hoodie wasn’t helping. The blanket she’d tried earlier hadn’t helped. Even the heater, which was technically on, felt like it was doing absolutely nothing.

She grabbed her phone. Dialed. It rang. And rang. And rang.

'…Seriously, Y/N? You're always awake...' She muttered, staring at the screen.

No answer.

She tried again but got the same result.

Megan frowned. 'Did she fall asleep already…?'

Another glance at her apartment. Another shiver. '…Yeah, I’m not doing this.'

A decision was made. A few minutes later, your apartment door unlocked. Megan stepped inside like she’d done it a hundred times before—because she had.

'Hello?' She called quietly, shutting the door behind her.

No response.

The place was still. Lights off. Silent.

She made her way down the short hallway toward your room, already knowing where you’d be.

Your door was slightly open. She pushed it gently. And there you were.

'…Oh my god.'

You were fully passed out. On top of your bed. Not even under the blanket.

Megan stared at you for a second. 'You’re actually unbelievable.'

She stepped closer, arms still folded, shaking her head slightly.

'You’re telling me it’s basically snowing in LA and you’re just—' she gestured vaguely at you, '—like this?'

No response. You didn’t even move.

She sighed, stepping up to the side of your bed. '…You have to be cold.'

Carefully, she reached out and grabbed your arm. Then paused.

'…What.'

Her brows furrowed. She squeezed lightly. Then pressed her palm more fully against your arm.

'…You’re warm.'

Not just warm. Actually warm.

Megan stared at you like you’d personally offended her. 'You’re something else entirely.'

You shifted slightly in your sleep, mumbling something incoherent before going still again.

She exhaled slowly through her nose. '…Unbelievable.'

Another glance at your blanket. Then at you. Still not using it.

'Move.' She muttered, already grabbing the edge of it.

You didn’t. So she did it herself. With a bit more effort than expected, she tugged the blanket up, then awkwardly maneuvered you—just enough—to get you under it properly.

You stirred. '…mmh—'

'Shh.' She said automatically, even though you weren’t really awake.

Once you were at least somewhat covered, she hesitated. Looked at the bed. Then at her own arms. Still cold. '…Yeah, no.'

Decision made. She climbed in. Quickly. Sliding under the blanket beside you and immediately shifting closer, chasing the warmth she’d already felt.

And then you woke up. Violently. Your entire body jolted. '—WHAT—'

Megan flinched. 'Whoa—hey—hey—'

You stared at her, heart racing, eyes wide in the dim light. 'What are you doing—?!'

'I tried calling you!' She said quickly, hands up slightly in defence. 'You didn’t answer!'

You blinked at her. Then at your room. Then back at her. '…You broke into my apartment?'

'We all have keys.' She shot back.

You stared for another second. '…Right.'

Silence. You were still half asleep. Still very confused. Brain clearly not functioning at full capacity.

'…Why are you in my bed?'

'It’s freezing,' she said immediately. 'My apartment is unbearable.'

You processed that. Slowly. '…So you came here.'

'Yes.'

'…To my bed.'

'Yes.'

'…To—what. Sleep?'

She gave you a look. '…and to not freeze.'

Another pause.

Your eyes blinked slower this time. Your body already starting to sink back into the mattress.

'…That’s so gay.' You mumbled.

Megan stared at you. '…But I am gay.'

You didn’t respond. Because you were already settling again. Not moving away. Not arguing. Just… accepting it.

Megan exhaled quietly, shaking her head. '…my god.'

But she didn’t leave. Instead, she shifted slightly closer. Not dramatic. Not clinging. Just enough.

Because the warmth was immediate. Real. And after a few seconds, her shoulders relaxed.

'…Okay, yeah,' she muttered softly. 'Worth it.'

You made a small, sleepy noise in response.

Neither of you said anything else. The room fell quiet again. Snow still falling outside. Soft against the window. Inside, it was warm and still.

And within minutes, both of you were asleep. Like it was the most normal thing in the world.

---

Manon’s apartment always felt… put together. Clean counters. Soft lighting. Everything in its place. Even when it was lived in, it never felt messy—just warm in a quiet, calm way.

The kitchen, however—was currently occupied. Steam curled up from the pot on the stove, the gentle bubbling filling the space with a low, steady sound.

You stood there, focused, sleeves pushed up slightly as you moved with ease around the counter.

'Are you sure you don’t need help?' Manon asked from where she leaned against the kitchen island, arms loosely crossed.

You shook your head. 'I’ve got it.'

She watched you for a second longer, then nodded. 'Alright. I’m not complaining.'

From the living room, voices drifted in.

'I’m telling you, it was her fault.' Sophia said.

'That doesn’t even make sense.' Yoonchae replied, her voice lighter, amused.

Manon glanced over her shoulder. 'What are they arguing about now?'

'No idea,' you said, reaching for a bowl. 'But I’m not getting involved.'

She smiled faintly. 'Smart.'

A few minutes later, you were finishing up. Ramen, carefully assembled. Soft boiled eggs, perfectly cut. Slices of spam tucked neatly between noodles. Steam still rising.

You picked up the bowl carefully, adjusting your grip before turning toward the living room.

'Food’s—'

The front door burst open.

'I’m actually freezing.'

Daniela. Her voice echoed slightly as she stepped inside, immediately hugging her arms around herself.

'This is getting beyond a joke now,' she continued, kicking the door shut behind her. 'Why is it colder inside than outside? That doesn’t even make—'

She stopped. Because she saw you. Standing there. Holding a bowl of ramen. In a t-shirt. Completely fine.

There was a pause. A very brief one.

'…Oh.'

You blinked. 'Hey.'

You didn’t even get another word out. Because suddenly— Daniela moved. Fast.

'Wait—'

She crossed the room in seconds and latched onto you. Full force. Her arms wrapped around your middle as she pressed into your side like she’d made a life decision and wasn’t turning back.

You stumbled slightly, instinctively adjusting your stance to keep the bowl steady.

'Whoa—hey—!'

'Don’t move.' She said immediately, voice muffled slightly against you.

'I’m holding hot food—'

'I don’t care.'

You let out a disbelieving laugh, trying not to spill anything. 'Daniela—'

'You’re warm.' She cut in, tightening her grip like that settled everything.

From the couch, Sophia leaned forward slightly. 'That was quick.'

Yoonchae nodded. 'She didn’t even say hi properly.'

'I said hi.' Daniela muttered.

'You attacked me.' You corrected.

'Same thing.'

Manon stepped into the doorway from the kitchen, taking in the scene with a small, unsurprised exhale.

'…I leave you alone for five seconds.'

'She’s cold.' You said, like that explained it.

'I am cold.' Daniela added, not moving at all.

You shifted slightly, still trying to balance the bowl in your hands. 'Can you at least let me put this down?'

'No.'

'Daniela.'

'…Fine.'

But she still didn’t fully let go. You went to side step her but she moved with you.

That's when you felt it. Something warm brush against your neck. You froze instantly.

'—WHA—?!'

Your whole body jolted, nearly spilling the bowl as you whipped your head slightly.

'Did you just kiss me?!' You shrieked.

'WHAT—NO?!' Daniela yelled back immediately, just as loud.

'You did—you literally—'

'I DIDN’T—YOU MOVED—'

'I DIDN’T MOVE, YOU’RE ATTACHED TO ME—'

'I WAS TRYING TO NOT DROP YOUR FOOD—'

'BY KISSING MY NECK?!'

'I DIDN’T KISS YOU—'

'THEN WHY DID IT FEEL LIKE THAT—'

'I DON’T KNOW—YOU’RE WARM—'

'THAT DOESN’T EXPLAIN ANYTHING—'

'I PANICKED—'

'YOU PANICKED AND KISSED ME?!'

'I DIDN’T—'

Through all of this— she had still not let go. Still fully attached to you. Still holding on like her life depended on it.

On the couch— Sophia had fully lost it. 'Oh my god—' she laughed, covering her face. 'What is happening—'

Yoonchae was doubled over slightly, laughing quietly. 'They’re both screaming—'

Manon just stood there, arms crossed, shaking her head slowly. '…You two are freaks.'

'Don’t do that again!' You said, turning your head slightly to glare at her.

'I didn’t do anything!' Daniela shot back.

'You absolutely did—'

'It was an accident!'

You narrowed your eyes. She narrowed hers right back. A moment of silence passed.

'…You didn’t kiss me?' You asked, more suspicious now than anything.

'No,' she said, equally defensive. 'I would never.'

'Good.'

'Good.'

Another pause.

'…That was weird.' You muttered.

'…Yeah.' She agreed.

And then— like nothing had just happened— she tightened her grip again. Resting back against you. Completely unbothered.

You stared ahead for a second. Then sighed. '…You’re still holding onto me.'

'Obviously.'

'…Unbelievable.'

From the couch, Sophia wiped tears from her eyes. 'Please don’t stop, this is the best thing I’ve seen all day.'

Yoonchae nodded, still smiling. 'That was really loud.'

Manon turned back toward the kitchen. 'I’m pretending none of that just happened.'

You shook your head, but there was a small smile there now. Because somehow, this had just become another completely normal moment.

With a careful breath, you finally managed to steady your hands, nudging Daniela slightly with your shoulder just enough to create space.

You leaned forward—slow, deliberate—and set the bowl down on the coffee table without spilling a single drop.

You let out a quiet laugh, shaking your head as you relaxed slightly into her now tightening hold.

'…You have no shame.'

'None.' She said.

From the couch, Sophia laughed. 'At least she’s honest.'

Yoonchae pulled her legs closer under herself, watching the two of you with a small smile.

'You’re not even wearing a hoodie.' You said, glancing down slightly.

'I didn’t think I’d need one.' Daniela replied.

You raised a brow. 'It’s freezing.'

'Yeah,' she said. 'And now I’ve fixed that.'

You huffed out a soft laugh.

She shifted slightly, adjusting her position so she was more comfortable, her head resting lightly against your shoulder now.

The tension in her posture had already eased. Her shoulders weren’t hunched anymore. Her grip wasn’t as tight. Just… settled.

Manon walks back into the room holding chopsticks and a few bowls, shaking her head faintly. 'You didn’t even try to resist.'

'Why would I?' Daniela replied. 'This is efficient.'

'That’s one way to put it.' Sophia said.

You glanced around at them, then back down slightly. '…You could’ve just asked.'

Daniela snorted quietly. 'And wait longer? No.'

That made you smile.

A comfortable silence settled for a moment. The kind that came easily.

'…Is that ramen?' Daniela asked, finally lifting her head slightly.

You glanced at the table. '...no its fried chicken. Yes, its ramen! You've been stood with your head hovering over it for the past two minutes.'

'You could’ve just said yes.' She mumbled, still staring down at the bowl like she’d just discovered something life-changing.

'And ruin the moment?' You shot back lightly.

She looked at it. Then back at you.

'…You made food and didn’t tell me first?'

'You literally just got here.'

'Still...'

You laughed, gently nudging her. 'Go eat.'

She hesitated. Then tightened her hold again. '…Bring it here.'

You stared at her. 'No.'

Sophia laughed. 'You’re so lazy.'

'I’m cold.' Daniela defended.

'You’re attached to the solution.' Manon pointed out.

'…Exactly.'

You shook your head, smiling despite yourself. '…Unbelievable.'

But you didn’t move away. Didn’t push her off. Just stood there— letting her cling. Letting her steal warmth without a second thought.

Because at this point, it wasn’t even surprising anymore. It was just… Daniela.

---

The studio had never felt this exhausting before. You were all in for 8 a.m sharp. That’s when it started. Warm-ups. Run-throughs. Corrections. Again. Again. And again.

By the time you’d hit midday, your muscles were already burning. By the time you came back from the short break—barely twenty minutes to breathe, eat something quick, drink water—

it just… kept going. Music looping. Feet hitting the floor in sync. Voices calling counts. Mirrors reflecting every movement back at you.

'Again from the top.'

And you did. You always did. Hours passed like that.

The cold from earlier in the week? Completely gone. Now the studio felt thick. Heavy. Warm in a way that clung to your skin.

And you— you felt it more than usual. Not the cold. Never the cold.

But the heat? That was different. Your shirt stuck slightly to your back. Your breathing heavier than normal. A constant warmth under your skin that didn’t fade, no matter how many times you wiped sweat from your face.

Still, you kept going. Because everyone else was. Because that’s what you did.

Until finally— 'Alright, that’s it for today.'

The music cut. Silence. And your body just gave in. You dropped. Not dramatic. Not graceful. Just collapsed forward onto the floor, arms barely catching you before you ended up face down.

A groan left you, muffled against the ground. '…I’m done.'

Behind you, the others followed soon after.

Daniela flopped onto her back. 'I can’t feel my legs.'

Lara dropped beside her. 'I don’t think I have bones anymore.'

Yoonchae sat down more carefully, though even she looked drained. Sophia lowered herself with a tired exhale. Manon rolled her shoulders, breathing steady but clearly feeling it. Megan leaned back against the mirror, head tipping slightly as she caught her breath.

For a moment, no one moved. Just the sound of breathing.

'…You’re really warm.' Yoonchae’s voice was quiet. You cracked one eye open slightly.

'…I’m always warm.'

'No,' she said, a little closer now. 'Like—really warm.'

She’d shifted, sitting near your head now, her hand hovering slightly before she leaned in just a bit more. 'I can feel it from here.'

Daniela lifted her head slightly from the floor. '…Are you steaming?'

Lara squinted. '…Wait, yeah—'

'You’re lying.' You muttered weakly.

'I’m not,' Daniela said, pushing herself up slightly. 'You actually look like you’re overheating.'

'That’s new.' Manon added, glancing over.

Sophia was already moving. Of course she was. She pushed herself up and came over, crouching beside you as she reached out placing her hand gently against your forehead.

'…Yeah,' she said softly. 'You’re too hot.'

You let out a small groan. 'That’s a first.'

'No kidding.' Daniela muttered.

Sophia didn’t move her hand right away, her touch grounding and steady. Then she shifted slightly.

'Sit up a little.' She said gently.

You didn’t really want to. But you did anyway. Slow. Heavy. The second you moved, the heat seemed to hit you all over again, making you wince slightly.

'Easy.' Sophia murmured.

She started fanning you with her hand instinctively, trying to create some kind of airflow.

It helped. A little.

'Wait—hold on—' Daniela suddenly shuffled closer. You barely had time to react before she grabbed the bottom of your shirt.

'…Daniela—'

And started lifting it up slightly. Then letting it fall. Then lifting it again. Creating the most inconsistent, chaotic airflow possible.

'…What are you doing?' You said, too tired to even argue properly.

'I’m helping.' She said.

'That’s not helping—'

'It is, feel that—'

'It’s uneven—'

'It’s airflow—'

Manon, standing nearby now, let out a quiet laugh. 'I’m surprised you’re not attached to her right now.' She said lightly.

Daniela paused mid-motion. '…What?'

'Like the other day,' Manon continued, grabbing a towel and starting to wave it gently in your direction, much more effectively, 'you wouldn’t even let her put the ramen down.'

There was a beat.

Megan, still leaning against the mirror, blinked. '…You what?'

Daniela immediately pointed at you. 'She started it—'

'I did not—' You mumbled weakly.

'She accused me of kissing her!'

'I didn’t accuse—you literally—'

'You screamed!'

'Because you were on my neck!'

'IT WAS AN ACCIDENT—'

'Why were you that close—'

'Because I was cold—'

Megan stared at the two of you. '…Why do I always miss this type of shit.'

Sophia sighed, still fanning you gently. 'A lot happened, it was hilarious.'

Yoonchae nodded seriously. 'They both screamed... a lot.'

Lara, who had disappeared for a moment, came rushing back in. 'I got water.' She said, slightly out of breath, holding out a bottle.

'Lifesaver.' You muttered.

She crouched beside you, opening it for you before handing it over. You took it, drinking gratefully.

Around you—they all hovered. Sophia fanning you steadily. Manon standing nearby, using the towel properly this time. Daniela still occasionally lifting your shirt like she refused to admit her method wasn’t great.

Yoonchae sitting close, watching carefully. Lara hovering with the water. Megan nearby, arms loosely crossed now, just observing, shaking her head slightly.

'…This is weird.' You mumbled after a moment.

'What is?' Lara asked.

'You guys… taking care of me.'

'You take care of us all the time.' Yoonchae said simply.

Sophia nodded. 'Yeah. Let us have this.'

Manon added, 'It’s only fair.'

Daniela huffed lightly. 'Yeah, don’t make it a thing.'

You let out a quiet laugh. '…Alright.'

You didn’t argue after that. Didn’t brush them off. You just… let yourself sink back slightly. Let the towel waves cool your skin. Let the air from Sophia’s hand ease the heat. Let Lara keep the water coming. Let Daniela continue her questionable method. Let them be there.

Because for once—you needed it. And they were already there to give it.

The studio slowly quieted again. The exhaustion still there. The heat slowly fading. But now, it was softer.

And as you lay there, eyes half closed, breathing finally evening out— you couldn’t help the small smile that settled in. Because maybe being the one who kept everyone warm also meant— you were never going to be left to burn out alone.

---

BONUS:

For a while, you just stayed there. Letting the cool air hit your skin. Letting your breathing settle. Letting the warmth finally ease into something manageable again.

'Alright,' Sophia said softly, placing a hand on your shoulder. 'Up you get.'

You groaned. 'No.'

'Yes.'

You barely had the energy to argue. Still, you let out a weak, 'Give me five minutes.'

'You’ve had ten.' She replied, not unkindly.

'…That’s unfair.'

She smiled slightly, already hooking an arm under yours. 'Come on.'

With her help—and a lot more effort than it should’ve taken—you managed to sit up. Then stand.

Your legs protested immediately.

'…I regret everything.' You muttered.

'Good,' Daniela said from somewhere nearby. 'That means you worked hard.'

You shot her a tired look.

Sophia kept a steady hand on your arm, making sure you didn’t just collapse again.

'You’re not walking home.' She said, glancing over toward Lara.

Lara looked up instantly. 'I’m driving?'

'Yes,' Sophia replied. 'She's not walking in this condition.'

You didn’t even argue. Didn’t have it in you. '…Okay.' You mumbled.

That alone told them how tired you were.

'Wow,' Daniela said. 'No fight?'

'Too tired.' You said simply.

You slowly made your way over to your bag, movements sluggish, still feeling that lingering heaviness in your limbs.

Everyone else started gathering their things too, the usual end-of-day routine falling into place.

You slung your bag over your shoulder— then paused. Your eyes drifted toward Daniela. She was mid-conversation with Yoonchae, completely unaware.

You stared at her for a second. Then, without a word—you walked over. Slow and deliberate.

She turned slightly. '…What?'

You said nothing. Just leaned in like you were about to kiss her.

Her eyes widened. 'WAIT—' She screamed. Full volume. 'NO—NO—NO—'

She shoved you away and bolted across the room like her life depended on it.

You burst out laughing immediately, the sound breaking through your exhaustion.

'I DIDN’T EVEN TOUCH YOU—' You called after her.

'STAY AWAY FROM ME—' She yelled from across the studio, pointing at you like you were a threat.

'You’re scared of the gays.' You shot back, still laughing.

'I’M NOT SCARED—YOU’RE WEIRD—'

'YOU PANICKED—'

'YOU LUNGED AT ME—'

'I LEANED—'

'THAT’S WORSE—'

On the side, Sophia had fully given up, laughing as she covered her face. 'Please,' she said, breathless, 'can we go home now—'

Yoonchae was giggling quietly. Manon shook her head, though there was a small smile there. Megan just exhaled, amused, grabbing her bag.

Lara was already heading toward the door. 'Come on, before they start round two.'

You adjusted your bag again, still smiling as you turned back. '…You started it.' You muttered toward Daniela.

'I DID NOT—'

'RAMEN INCIDENT.'

'IT WAS AN ACCIDENT—'

'KEEP TELLING YOURSELF THAT—'

'GO HOME—'

You laughed again, softer this time, the exhaustion finally catching up properly.

And this time, when Sophia gently nudged you toward the door, you went. No resistance. Just tired. Warm. And surrounded by voices that didn’t quite quiet down, even as you all started to leave.

Because somehow, even at the end of the longest day, there was still energy left for this. For laughter. For chaos. For each other.

Her brows lift. 'What is?'

'That you look like that and still pretend you’re not aware of it.' You grin, leaning closer until your shoulder brushes hers.

Sophia bites back a smile, eyes flicking toward you for half a second before she turns away. 'You’re unbelievable.'

'Only because you make it easy.' You reply smoothly, your voice low and teasing. You reach over to fix a strand of hair that’s fallen over her face, fingers brushing her cheek just long enough to make her blush.

Across the room, Lara catches it. 'Oh my god,' she groans dramatically, clutching her heart. 'You two are like a drama. A soft one, but still.'

Sophia throws a cushion at her. 'Don’t encourage her!'

You laugh, catching Sophia’s wrist before she can pull away. 'You love it when I do.' You murmur, and the way her face flushes pink gives you your answer before she can say a word.

Megan walks by with a snack and shakes her head. 'You two are impossible. Sophia, you’re literally red.'

Sophia hides her face in your shoulder. 'I am not.'

'You so are,' you tease, slipping an arm around her waist in a gesture that’s half a hug, half a claim. 'But that’s okay. It suits you.'

Lara pretends to faint, flopping onto the floor. 'I can’t do this,' she laughs. 'How is she so smooth? I’d combust if anyone said that to me.'

'Don’t give her ideas.' Sophia mutters, still pressed against you. But when she finally lifts her head, there’s the smallest, softest smile curving her lips — the kind that only shows when she’s trying not to look completely in love.

You tilt your head toward her, voice light but full of meaning. 'What can I say? You inspire my best work.'

She swats at you with no real force, cheeks glowing brighter. 'You’re actually impossible.'

'Maybe,' you whisper, 'but you like impossible.'

And when she hides her face again, laughing into your shoulder while Lara squeals in the background — it’s clear she really, really does.

---

The thing about you and Sophia is that everyone thinks they’ve got you figured out.

In public, you’re all charm — all clever smiles, casual touches, and teasing words that leave her pink-cheeked and pretending to be unimpressed.

But behind closed doors, you’re still all charm, but there's another layer entirely.

You’re at a radio interview today, sitting beside Sophia on the couch. She’s in a cropped cardigan and jeans, looking unfairly good for someone who claims she 'didn’t even try this morning.' You know better.

When the interviewer asks about 'which member is the flirtiest,' everyone immediately points at Sophia.

'Me?' She laughs, pointing to herself. 'No, no, I don't think that’s true—'

'Yes, it is,' Lara interrupts. 'Sophia charms people accidentally. It’s scary.'

'Accidentally?' You say, leaning forward toward your mic with a grin. 'That’s cute. I didn’t know it was possible to charm accidentally.'

The room chuckles, but Sophia side-eyes you, catching the glint in your gaze. 'You’re just jealous.'

'Of what?' You ask, playing dumb.

'That people fall for me.'

'Oh, I’m not jealous,' you say easily. 'I’ve already fallen. I just enjoy the view while everyone else catches up.'

The girls all scream. Megan’s falling off the couch, Lara’s clutching her chest, Daniela’s covering her mouth to hide her grin. Sophia, on the other hand, is frozen — blinking at you with her lips parted just slightly.

She tries, she really tries to play it cool. 'Oh my god you’re stupid.' She says, shaking her head, but the corners of her mouth betray her.

'Yeah, but you like me anyway.' You reply with a wink.

The interviewer laughs. 'I think we found our real flirt here.'

And Sophia just leans back in her seat, defeated, while you look smug and happy with yourself.

Hours later, after the chaos of the schedule, you’re back in the dorm. The lights are dim, the others are in their rooms, and the only sound is the faint hum of the heater and the quiet playlist playing on Sophia’s phone.

You’re lying on her bed, one arm tucked under your head, scrolling aimlessly through something on your phone. Sophia steps out of the bathroom with her hair damp and her face clean, wearing one of your hoodies.

It hits you — that same warmth that always comes after teasing her all day. When it’s just you and her, the air feels different. Softer.

She looks at you for a second before climbing onto the bed beside you. 'So,' she starts, teasing, 'you gonna keep flirting with me in front of everyone or give me a break now?'

You grin. 'You love it.'

'I tolerate it.' She says, but she’s smiling.

You put your phone down and shift closer, tracing your fingers along her sleeve. 'You sure? Because I saw the way you blushed today.'

'Did not.'

'You did. Megan almost passed out.'

Sophia huffs a laugh, turning her face toward the pillow to hide her grin. 'You’re such a menace.'

'Maybe,' you murmur, voice softer now. 'But only for you.'

That earns you a quiet pause. You can almost see the shift in her — how her guard melts just a little more when it’s just the two of you.

When she looks at you again, you’re not smirking or being clever. You’re just watching her with that gentle, open affection that never fails to make her heart ache in the best way.

You tug her closer by the sleeve, and she comes easily, curling against you. Your hand finds its way into her hair, slow and careful, and you press a kiss against her temple.

'You okay?' She asks after a while, tracing little shapes on your arm.

You hum. 'Mhm. Just tired.'

'From all the flirting?' She teases.

'From pretending you don’t like it.' You mumble into her hair, and she laughs — that real, warm laugh that only you get to hear this close.

She tries to hide her face again, muttering, 'You’re so annoying.' But her hand doesn’t leave your waist.

You smile, feeling her heartbeat through her hoodie — your hoodie. 'Yeah, but I’m your annoying.'

Sophia sighs, pretending to be exasperated, but the way she snuggles closer tells the truth. 'You really are.'

The two of you lie there, wrapped in that quiet comfort that follows chaos. Out there, you’re the smooth talker who always makes her blush. But here — just like this — you’re soft, and shy, and completely hers.

And for Sophia, that’s the version she loves most.

---

The energy backstage is still buzzing. The crowd had been deafening, the lights blinding, and your adrenaline hasn’t even thought about calming down yet. The seven of you have just finished your encore on stage, waving goodbye with wide smiles and loud 'thank you's' echoing through the venue.

Sophia’s behind you as you start heading toward the stage steps, her hand gripping her mic, cheeks flushed and shining with sweat. You turn slightly, automatically scanning to make sure everyone’s okay— and when you spot her hesitating near the top step in her chunky boots, you don’t even think twice.

You extend a hand behind you.

'Careful, sweetheart.' You say softly over your shoulder, the words automatic, a smile tugging at your lips.

Sophia laughs under her breath, shaking her head. 'I got it.'

'Yeah, I know,' you murmur, still holding your hand out for her. 'But let me pretend to be your knight for five seconds.'

She hesitates a beat before slipping her hand into yours. You help her down, steadying her with a hand at her waist. You don’t notice that your mic—your still-on mic—picks up every word.

Manon catches it, eyes widening slightly as she glances between the two of you. Daniela’s grinning like she knows exactly what just happened.

But you? Oblivious. You just grin at Sophia and drop her hand once she’s on flat ground, walking offstage like nothing happened.

Hours later, you’re home. Showered, in bed, and half asleep. Sophia’s somewhere in the next room talking to Yoonchae about dinner plans tomorrow. You’re doom scrolling, letting your brain melt in peace, when you open Twitter.

And freeze.

There, front and centre on your feed, is a fan captured clip titled:

🎤 'Careful, sweetheart' — KATSEYE’s 7th member caught flirting with Sophia onstage 😳💘

You stare at your screen in horror.

The video’s already at 200k views, the captions full of screaming emojis and edits with hearts flying around your faces.

The audio is crystal clear — you can hear your voice, low and gentle, followed by Sophia’s little laugh.

Then your follow-up line: 'Let me pretend to be your knight for five seconds.'

You throw your phone on the bed and bury your face in a pillow. 'Oh my god.'

You hear the door creak open a few seconds later.

'What’s wrong?' Sophia asks, coming into your room in a tank top and shorts, hair down and fluffy.

You peek out from the pillow, eyes wide. 'Have you been on Twitter?'

Her expression immediately tenses. '…What did you do?'

'I didn’t do anything!' You protest, sitting up. 'I was just—helping you down the steps—being nice!'

Sophia walks over, grabs your phone, and sees the clip. Her jaw drops. 'Oh my god, your mic was on.'

You groan. 'Yeah. And now I’m apparently a ‘gentlemanly flirt who writes poetry with my eyes,’ according to the comments.'

She scrolls through the replies, cheeks reddening as she reads. '‘If she called me sweetheart, I’d combust.’ … ‘Sophia’s smile after??? She’s so gone.’'

You flop back dramatically onto the bed. 'I’m never speaking again.'

Sophia’s trying so hard not to laugh. 'You know, you did sound kinda romantic.'

'Don’t start.'

'I mean—' she perches on the edge of the bed, grinning down at you. '‘Let me pretend to be your knight for five seconds?’ Who even says that?'

'I panicked!'

She giggles, covering her mouth. 'You panicked and turned into a renaissance poet.'

You glare half heartedly, tugging at her wrist until she falls beside you on the bed. 'You’re enjoying this way too much.'

'Maybe.' She props herself up on one elbow, looking at you. 'Maybe I like seeing you flustered for once.'

You squint at her, then smirk. 'You think I’m flustered?'

'Totally.'

You grin, leaning closer until she’s forced to lie back against the pillow. 'You sure about that?' You whisper, voice dipping low enough to make her breath catch.

Her eyes flick down to your lips before she quickly turns her face to the side. 'You’re impossible.'

You grin wider, the confidence returning. 'Yeah, but you like me this way.'

'Unfortunately.'

You laugh softly, settling beside her, both of you still scrolling through fans’ edits that are multiplying by the second. Every clip of your little gesture is now set to romantic music, captions like ‘her hand, her voice, the way she looks at her’ flooding the feed.

Sophia glances at you, shaking her head but smiling. 'You realise people are gonna ship us harder now, right?'

'They already do,' you murmur, nudging her shoulder. 'Now it’s just confirmed canon.'

She groans, half hiding her face in the pillow. 'I can't with you.'

'I'm just lucky you love me.' You reply with a lazy grin.

She turns her head just enough to kiss your cheek, quick but soft. 'Yeah,' she admits quietly. 'I do.'

You blink, warmth flooding your chest. '…That’s gonna end up on Twitter too, you know.'

Sophia smirks. 'Then maybe it’s about time they got some actual content.'

---

The studio feels heavier tonight.

The mirrors reflect seven tired versions of the same dream — sweat-slicked, eyes focused, every breath sharp from pushing yourselves past the limit. Lollapalooza is just days away, and the pressure’s no longer thrilling — it’s a weight you can almost feel sitting on your chest.

The song ends. The music fades. No one moves for a second.

Lara sinks to the floor with a groan, tossing her hair up into a messy bun. Manon grabs a water bottle and pours half of it straight down her back, yelping at the cold.

Sophia’s still standing, though — posture perfect, face pinched in concentration as she stares at her reflection like it’s supposed to give her the answers.

You notice it instantly.

The way her lips purse. The small tremor in her hand when she reaches for her mic again.

She’s trying to go again. You can tell — that look in her eyes always means she’s about to push past her limit, again and again, until she burns herself out completely.

'Hey.' Your voice cuts through the quiet.

Sophia doesn’t look away from the mirror. 'Hmm?'

'Break time, angel.' You take a few slow steps toward her, already seeing her frown forming.

'We don’t have time for breaks.' She says softly, but her tone’s tired — her voice doesn’t even have its usual strength.

'Then we’ll make time.' You reach her side, gently taking the mic from her hands and setting it down. 'No point performing if you collapse halfway through.'

She lets out a short sigh, shoulders sinking. 'I just… I don’t feel like I’m hitting it right. I keep overthinking the transitions. It’s like my body’s tired but my brain won’t shut up.'

You tilt your head, pretending to consider this deeply. 'Hmm. I see the problem.'

'Yeah?' She asks weakly.

'Yeah. You’re too hot when you’re stressed. It’s distracting everyone else.'

Sophia blinks at you, lips twitching despite herself. 'Girl...'

'It worked!' You grin, stepping closer. 'See? You’re smiling already.'

She rolls her eyes, but the tension in her shoulders softens. 'You’re something else, that's for sure.'

'Maybe. But I’m also your favourite distraction.'

'Keep telling yourself that.'

You let out a soft laugh, your fingers brushing her arm lightly, the contact lingering just long enough to make her shiver. 'Wanna get some air?'

Sophia hesitates — you can tell she wants to refuse, but the exhaustion finally wins. She nods.

You take her hand and lead her toward the parking lot, where the night air hits like a blessing. The city hums quietly around you, a few tiny lights stretching out across the lot.

She leans on the railing, arms folded, still frowning faintly. You come up beside her, close enough that your shoulders touch.

'You know,' you say after a beat, 'you don’t have to carry all of us.'

Sophia glances at you. 'I’m not—'

'Yeah, you are,' you interrupt gently. 'You’re the one who keeps checking everyone’s energy, fixing little mistakes, worrying when someone’s quiet. It’s cute, don’t get me wrong. But you can’t pour from an empty cup, baby.'

The endearment slips out naturally — your voice low, fond, teasing just enough to make her look away, cheeks pink in the cool light.

She exhales slowly. 'I just want us to do well. We’ve worked so hard. I don’t want to let anyone down.'

You lean a little closer, your tone softening. 'You could trip and fall onstage and everyone would still love you. You could forget a lyric, miss a note — you’d still light it up. Because it’s you.'

Sophia blinks at you, caught off guard.

'And if all else fails,' you continue with a sly grin, 'you’ve got me. I’ll just wink at the crowd and buy us time while you recover.'

She laughs, really laughs this time, leaning into your shoulder. 'You’d do that?'

'I’d do a lot worse for you.'

Her laughter fades into a soft smile. 'You’re so smooth, it’s unfair.'

'I can’t help it. It’s part of my charm.'

'You’re lucky you’re cute.'

'Correction—we’re cute,' you murmur, tapping your nose against hers playfully. 'Team effort.'

Sophia groans, half hiding her face in her hands, but her smile is bright now, the kind that makes your heart trip a little.

The door creaks open — Daniela pokes her head out. 'Guys? We’re starting again in five!'

'Got it!' You call, before turning back to Sophia. 'You ready, superstar?'

She looks at you for a moment, the city lights reflected in her eyes. 'Yeah,' she says softly. 'Thanks to you.'

You grin, giving her hand a squeeze before letting go. 'That’s my girl.'

As you head back inside, Sophia tugs your sleeve, stopping you for just a second. She leans up and kisses the corner of your mouth — quick, shy, but full of meaning.

'Guess I owe you one.' She murmurs.

'You can repay me after we kill this performance,' you say with a wink. 'Preferably with dinner.'

She laughs, shaking her head as she follows you back to the studio. And when the music starts again, there’s a spark in her movements that wasn’t there before — lighter, freer.

You watch her spin and smile and feel that familiar warmth bloom in your chest. Maybe it’s the music, maybe it’s her. Maybe it’s both.

Either way, when she catches your eye in the mirror and grins mid-step, you know exactly what she’s thinking.

You’re both gonna be just fine.

---

The crowd’s roar still rings in your ears as you walk offstage, adrenaline pulsing through every inch of you. The lights, the screams, the music — it’s all a blur of gold and color. You can barely feel your legs, but the smile on Sophia’s face is worth every ache, every hour of practice.

She’s radiant. Her hair’s slightly messy, glitter catching the light as she turns to you, eyes shining brighter than the stage lights ever could.

'That was insane,' Lara pants, fanning herself. 'I think I blacked out for half of it.'

'Same.' Manon laughs, slinging an arm around Daniela’s shoulders who jokingly says, 'I think I shat myself out there.'

You laugh softly, heading towards the steps leading off the platform, but stop as you hear:

'Wait.'

You turn — and she’s standing there, one brow raised, one hand extended toward you, palm up. The same way you always offer yours.

You blink, caught off guard. 'Oh? A role reversal?'

'Someone’s gotta keep you from tripping over your own charm.' She teases, but there’s a sweetness in her tone that softens every word.

You can’t help it — you grin, taking her hand. 'Well, when you put it like that…'

She helps you down with exaggerated care, earning a few playful cheers from the girls behind you. You almost expect her to drop your hand right after, but she doesn’t. Instead, she laces your fingers together as you both make your way to your trailer.

When the others rush ahead, Sophia tugs lightly, pulling you to a quiet corner near a curtain, not really caring if anyone catches you. The noise fades, replaced by the muffled hum of the crowd still buzzing outside.

She looks up at you — cheeks still flushed from the performance, eyes soft. 'Hey,' she says quietly. 'Thanks.'

'For what?'

'For earlier this week. For helping me breathe when I couldn’t.' Her thumb brushes your knuckles. 'You always know what to say. You make things lighter. You make me lighter.'

You open your mouth to reply, but she steps closer before you can, voice a whisper meant only for you.

'I’m really glad you were there.'

You smile, heart swelling in that gentle, unspoken way that words can’t quite touch. 'Always am,' you murmur. 'And always will be.'

Sophia exhales, smiling that soft, crinkly-eyed smile you adore. Then, without overthinking it, she rises on her toes and kisses you — brief, but full of joy, of relief, of everything you both poured into this night.

The sound of your members yelling for a group photo breaks you apart, both of you laughing quietly.

'Come on,' you say, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. 'Before they start teasing us again.'

'Let them,' she says, still smiling. 'I don’t care this time.'

You grin, offering your arm in mock formality. 'Shall we, my lady?'

Sophia slips her hand into yours, rolling her eyes but blushing anyway. 'Lead the way, gentlewoman.'

And together, still hand in hand, you walk back toward your group — the cheers echoing behind you, the stage lights fading into memory, and the promise of everything still ahead glowing between you like something golden and new.

Everyone was trying. Trying to be seen, trying to be better, trying to survive something that didn’t slow down for anyone.

You were focused. You had to be.

There wasn’t space to think too deeply about anything outside of the next performance, the next ranking, the next chance to prove you deserved to be there.

And yet, somewhere in between all of that, there was Lara. She was very easy to notice. Not in a loud, attention-seeking way. But in the way that she carried herself.

She was open, warm and effortlessly affectionate with the people she cared about. She laughed easily, touched easily, leaned into people without hesitation. Like closeness was second nature to her.

You weren’t like that. Not then at least.

You liked people. You loved deeply, even—but you weren’t someone who reached out first. You weren’t someone who needed physical closeness to feel connected.

It just hadn’t been your thing. Until you started noticing it. Not in general, but with her.

The first time it registered, you didn’t even react. You were sitting side by side during a break, both half listening to someone talking across the room, when her shoulder bumped into yours.

Light. Accidental, maybe.

Except she didn’t move away.

You remember thinking about it. Not 'why is she doing this'—but 'why don’t you mind?'

Then it kept happening.

A hand on your arm when she laughed, her leaning against you when she was tired, her head resting briefly on your shoulder like it was the most natural place in the world.

And every time, you let her. Not because you didn’t notice. But because you liked it. More than you expected to, more than you were used to.

Lara didn’t question it, she didn’t overthink it, she was just Lara. Touchy, affectionate and drawn to you in a way that felt instinctive.

It wasn’t until much later—closer to debut, when everything started becoming real—that it shifted into something neither of you could ignore.

It was late one night, everyone was exhausted. The kind of exhaustion that made everything softer, quieter.

You were sitting on the floor, back against the wall, staring at nothing in particular. Thinking about everything, thinking about the what ifs.

Lara sat down close next to you, closer than necessary.

'You’re thinking too much.' She said gently.

You huffed a quiet laugh. 'Is it that obvious?'

'Mhm.'

Her hand found yours, just like that, with no hesitation. You looked down at it, then at her, she didn’t look away.

'You don’t have to do everything alone.' She added, softer now.

Something in your chest shifted. Not dramatically, not all at once. But enough.

And for the first time, you squeezed her hand first. And that was it.

No big moment, no dramatic realisation, just a quiet understanding that settled between you and it had stayed.

From there, it didn’t rush. It grew. Through debut, through schedules, through long days and even longer nights.

Somewhere along the way, holding hands became normal. Leaning into each other became expected, sharing space stopped being something you noticed and it started being something you missed when it wasn’t there.

And you—you changed, without even realising it. You started reaching for her. Not just letting her come to you, but wanting to be close. Wanting to hold her, wanting to feel her there.

Because Lara didn’t just like affection. She lived in it. And somehow, she made you want to live there too.

The first of many moments where she reached for you was during an already chaotic livestream.

'Wait—are we live?' Daniela asked, leaning way too close to the camera.

'We’ve been live.' Sophia groaned, trying to push her back.

'No we haven’t—have we?'

'Yes, we have!'

There's laughter, overlapping voices, someone knocking into something off-camera. Just another normal Katseye livestream.

You were on the floor, right in front of the couch. Close enough that your back almost brushed against it if you leaned too far.

Lara was sitting above you. Literally. Relaxed, one leg bent slightly, the other stretched out just enough that it rested against your arm.

It wasn’t planned. None of this ever was.

You were focused on the screen in front of you, reading through comments, saying them out loud occasionally when something caught your attention.

'Someone said—uh—' you squinted slightly, 'they think we’re too loud.'

'WHO said that?' Manon immediately shot back.

'Block them.' Megan added.

You smiled faintly, shaking your head a little.

Behind you—Lara shifted. At first, it was just her leg pressing a little more firmly against your arm, a subtle adjustment.

Then—her fingers. They slipped into your hair so casually it took you a second to even process it. You paused mid-scroll just for a second.

Her touch was light and absentminded. Like she wasn’t even fully aware she was doing it. Her fingers combed gently through your hair, pushing a few strands back, then returning to do it again.

Slow, repetitive and extremely comforting.

You didn’t turn around, didn’t acknowledge it out loud, but your shoulders relaxed slightly.

'Read more comments!' Sophia nudged.

'Oh—yeah,' you blinked, refocusing. 'Someone said—'

Behind you, Lara hummed softly at something Daniela said. Still playing with your hair, still completely unbothered.

And then, because she’s Lara, she did something completely unnecessary.

Her leg lifted.

You felt it before you fully registered it. The shift of weight, the movement.

And then suddenly—her leg was draped over your shoulder.

You froze.

It wasn’t heavy, not uncomfortable, just kind of... there. Draped casually so it fell across your chest, her ankle resting somewhere near your opposite side. Like this was a completely normal thing to do.

You glanced up—just barely—trying to catch her expression.

She didn’t even look at you. She was still engaged in conversation, still acting like nothing had changed.

You huffed out the smallest breath of disbelief. But you didn’t move it.

Instead, you adjusted. You pulled your knees up slightly, shifting your position so her leg rested more comfortably against you.

Your arms came up without thinking and wrapped loosely around her leg, holding it against your chest like it belonged there, like she belonged there.

Behind you, you felt the faintest shift. Like she noticed, like she liked it.

'Wait—' Sophia’s voice cut through.

You blinked, looking up.

'…Why are you hugging Lara’s leg?' She asked, squinting at you.

The room went quiet for half a second.

You opened your mouth to answer but Lara beat you to it.

'She's cold.' She said immediately.

You turned your head slightly. '…What?'

Before you could question it further, her leg tightened slightly around your shoulder, pulling you back just a little closer to the couch.

Subtle, but intentional.

'She needs warmth.' Lara continued, like this made perfect sense.

You stared at her now, like actually stared.

She finally looked down at you, completely serious. And then—just barely—she smiled.

You exhaled a quiet laugh, shaking your head. 'Yeah,' you muttered, leaning into her leg a little more, 'That’s exactly it.'

Around you, the chaos picked back up. Arguments, laughter, someone bringing up chat again.

But you stayed like that, her fingers eventually returned to your hair, her leg still draped over you, your arms still loosely holding it in place.

Natural, effortless. But yours.

And if anyone thought it was weird, neither of you cared enough to stop.

---

Another time was on set for one of your music videos. It was beautiful. Cold, but beautiful. Not the kind of cold that hit you all at once, it crept in slowly.

Through thin stage outfits, through damp air, through the long pauses between takes where your body cooled down faster than it could recover.

'Resetting lights!' Someone called.

'Five minutes!' Another voice followed.

Five minutes. Which really meant stand around and try not to freeze while nothing happens.

You exhaled slowly, rubbing your hands together, but it didn’t do much. Your fingers still felt stiff, your shoulders still tense.

'Come here.'

You didn’t even have to look to know it was Lara. A blanket appeared around your shoulders before you could respond, warm and soft and immediate.

Then, her arms. They wrapped around you from behind first, pulling you back into her before shifting so you were facing her instead.

Close. Like, properly close.

'God, you’re freezing.' She murmured, her hands rubbing gently over your arms from under the blanket.

'I’m fine.' You mumbled automatically.

'You’re not.' She replied, just as quickly.

You didn’t argue, you didn’t have the energy to.

Instead, you leaned in so that your head found its place on her shoulder like it had done a hundred times before, your body settling into hers without hesitation.

She adjusted the blanket, pulling it tighter around both of you until there was barely any space between your bodies at all.

Her chin rested lightly against the top of your head. Her arms wrapped fully around you now, hands tucked securely against your back. Warm and safe.

You let your eyes fall shut. The noise of the set dulled almost instantly. Voices became background hum, movement became distant as everything softened.

You didn’t realise how tired you were until that moment. How much your body had been holding onto tension. Your arms slid around her waist beneath the blanket, holding onto her just as tightly as she held you.

Not loosely, not casually, but like you were anchoring yourself there.

She felt it. Of course she did. Her grip tightened slightly in response. A silent acknowledgement.

'Look at you two.' Megan’s voice cut in, light and teasing.

You barely reacted. Just a small hum, your face still tucked into Lara’s shoulder.

'Don’t.' Lara said immediately—but there was no real bite to it.

'Move over,' Megan insisted, already stepping closer. 'I’m freezing too.'

You felt the shift as she tried to wedge herself into the blanket space. More movement, more presence.

Lara huffed softly but didn’t push her away completely. Not yet.

Megan managed to squeeze in at your side, half under the blanket, half not, her shoulder pressing lightly against yours.

'See? There’s room.' She said, satisfied.

You shifted slightly, but not away. Just enough to adjust. Still half-asleep, still warm, still comfortable.

'Hey—' Megan paused suddenly.

You didn’t open your eyes.

'…I literally got so close to your face just then.' She said, amused.

You didn’t process it, didn’t register it because your breathing had already slowed. Your body fully relaxed against Lara.

But Lara... Lara noticed. Her eyes flicked down immediately. Megan was close, too close. Leaning in slightly, curious, teasing. Testing boundaries the way she always did.

'Okay, nope. Girl, bye.' Lara said.

It wasn’t loud, it wasn’t sharp, but it was immediate.

Her arms shifted as one hand came up gently, guiding your head just slightly deeper into her shoulder—while the other lifted the edge of the blanket.

And then she pulled it over you. Not fully, not in a way that would look strange. But enough that your face was now hidden beneath it. Shielded.

'Hey!' Megan protested lightly. 'I wasn’t gonna do anything!'

'You were thinking about it.' Lara replied flatly.

'I was just saying!'

'No.'

From the outside, it looked playful. Just another moment, another bit of chaos between members.

But under the blanket, everything softened again. The world disappeared. You didn’t even realise what had happened, didn’t know Megan had been close, didn’t notice the shift.

All you felt was Lara. Her arms tightening around you again, pulling you closer as her hand moved slowly up your back. Gentle and reassuring.

And then her lips. Soft, careful, pressing lightly against the top of your head. Once. Then again. Not rushed, not showy, just quiet affection.

Her way of grounding you, warming you, keeping you there.

You shifted slightly in response, your grip around her waist tightening just a little more beneath the blanket.

She smiled against your hair. 'Stay here.' She murmured softly, too quiet for anyone else to hear.

You didn’t answer, you didn’t need to, your body had already gone heavy against hers. Half-asleep, completely relaxed.

Outside, Megan was still complaining. Something about unfair blanket distribution. Someone else laughed.

But Lara didn’t pay attention anymore. Her focus stayed on you, her arms wrapped securely around you, her chin resting against your head, her lips pressing one more soft kiss into your hair.

Keeping you warm like that was the only thing that mattered.

---

The next time Lara properly reached for you came a couple days later. There were plenty of moments in between, but this is where her clinginess truly comes through.

The apartment felt lived in. Not messy—although it was still messy—just full.

Shoes by the door that no one had bothered to line up properly. Jackets thrown over the backs of chairs, phones charging in random corners, the low hum of overlapping conversations filling the space like background music.

It was comfortable. Easy.

You stood in the kitchen, lining up the last of the iced coffees on the counter.

'Alright—barista of the year,' Megan called from the couch, 'we’re waiting.'

'I’m coming.' You replied, nudging the final straw into place.

One by one, you handed them out.

Daniela took hers with a grateful smile, Sophia immediately inspecting hers like she was judging presentation, Yoonchae thanking you softly.

Manon gave you a small nod, already mid-conversation with someone else. And Lara didn’t take hers right away. She waited as she was watching you.

You noticed, of course. You always did.

'You gonna take yours or are you just gonna stare at me?' You asked, raising an eyebrow slightly as you held the glass out.

She smiled, slow and unapologetic. 'Both.' She said, finally taking it.

You huffed a quiet laugh, shaking your head as you grabbed your own drink.

The couch was full, so you settled beside Lara—not right beside her. About a foot of space between you. Just enough. You adjusted carefully as you sat, making sure your drink didn’t tilt.

For a moment everything was normal. People talking, ice clinking in cups, someone laughing too loudly at something that wasn’t even that funny.

You took a sip, settling back slightly, your attention shifting toward Manon as she started explaining something across the room.

And then—

'…Why are you all the way over there?'

You didn’t even need to look. Lara’s voice was soft, but genuinely offended.

You turned your head slightly.

'I’m not 'all the way over there,'' you said, gesturing vaguely between you. 'There’s literally, like, half a foot of space.'

'That’s far.' She replied immediately.

You stared at her. '…It’s not.'

'It is,' she insisted, 'I can’t even reach you properly.'

You took another sip of your drink, unfazed, 'You’re being dramatic.'

'I can’t kiss you if you’re all the way on Mars, babe.'

That made you pause just for a second.

'…Mars?' You repeated, trying not to laugh.

She nodded, completely serious. 'Different planet. Whole different atmosphere. Not ideal for affection.'

You shook your head, looking away again. 'You’re unbelievable.'

'I’m suffering.' She added quietly.

You deliberately ignored her as you turned your attention fully to Manon now.

'Wait—what were you saying about the waist beads?' You asked, leaning forward slightly with genuine curiosity.

Manon nodded, adjusting slightly where she sat.

'Yeah—it’s cultural,' she explained. 'They can represent different things depending on where you’re from. For me, it’s more about identity and—'

You were fully listening, interested. But beside you Lara had shifted. Louder this time, more noticeable.

You didn’t look.

'…I’m being ignored.' She murmured.

'You’re fine,' you replied absentmindedly, still focused on Manon. 'Keep going.'

Manon smiled faintly and continued. 'It can also be about femininity, confidence—sometimes even milestones. Like growth, or—'

'Wow,' Lara muttered, just loud enough for you to hear, 'I guess I don’t exist anymore.'

You exhaled slowly through your nose, still not looking at her.

'I’m literally right here.' You said.

'Are you?' She shot back.

Before you could respond, her hand reached out. Not grabbing your arm, not pulling harshly. Just taking your wrist and gently tugging.

'Lara—' You started, but your balance shifted slightly, your drink tilting just enough to make you pause.

'Wait—hold on—'

'Put it down.' She said simply.

You hesitated. Then sighed. '…Fine.'

You leaned forward, setting your iced coffee carefully on the table. And the second your hands were free, she pulled you. Not aggressively, but decisively.

Your back met her chest as she guided you into place, your body settling between her legs on the couch, your shoulders naturally aligning with hers. Familiar and easy.

Her arms wrapped around you immediately. One draped across your upper chest, the other sliding more securely around your waist.

You exhaled softly, your body relaxing without even thinking about it.

'Much better.' She murmured, her voice right by your ear now.

You leaned back into her slightly, still trying to focus.

'Sorry—continue.' You said to Manon, like nothing had happened.

Manon raised an eyebrow, but didn’t comment.

'…As I was saying,' she continued, 'they can also be used to track body changes. Some people use them as a way to stay connected to their body—'

You nodded, genuinely engaged. 'That’s actually really interesting. So it’s not just—'

Behind you, Lara shifted again. One of her hands slid slightly higher, resting more comfortably, more securely on your breast.

You paused mid-sentence, slowly looking down at her hand before turning your head just enough to look at her. A clear, silent are you being for real right now? in your expression.

Lara didn’t even look back at you. Instead, she glanced toward Manon.

'Continue.' She said casually, like nothing had happened.

Manon stared at her for a beat. Then shook her head slowly, a faint smile tugging at her lips. '…Right.'

Lara moved to rest her chin lightly against your shoulder now, her presence fully wrapped around you.

You tried to not acknowledge it any further. But your body melted just a little more into hers.

'—and so depending on the colour, they can have different meanings too.' Manon finished.

You nodded slowly. 'That’s really beautiful, actually,' you said softly. 'I never realised how much meaning there was behind them.'

'Yeah,' Manon smiled. 'It’s something I’ve always been connected to.'

You glanced down briefly, thoughtful.

Behind you, Lara pressed a soft, absentminded kiss against the side of your head.

You didn’t stop talking, didn’t break the conversation, but your lips curved slightly. Small and barely noticeable. Because as much as she was clingy—as much as she always needed to be touching you in rather questionable places, holding you, pulling you closer—you loved it.

You really, really loved it.

And honestly? You probably would’ve ended up in her arms anyway. She just didn’t like waiting for that part.

---

Another time was during rehearsals, of course, since that’s where you all seemed to spend most of your time. The music cut out abruptly. Not because the choreo ended, but because everyone physically couldn’t keep going.

'Five minutes.' Someone called from by the speakers.

No one argued.

The room fell into that heavy kind of silence that only came after hours of nonstop movement.

Breathing filled the space as shoes squeaked faintly against the floor. The low hum of exhaustion settling into everyone’s bodies.

You sat down slowly, wincing just slightly as you bent your knee. It wasn’t bad. Not bad enough to stop. Just enough to be annoying, persistent.

Lara noticed immediately.

'Sit properly.' She said, already crouching down in front of you.

'I am sitting properly.' You muttered, adjusting your leg slightly.

'No, you’re not.' She replied, completely unfazed.

Before you could argue further, she reached for the knee brace resting beside your bag.

You sighed, but didn’t stop her.

Her hands were gentle, careful as she guided your leg forward slightly, her touch firm enough to be steady but soft enough not to aggravate anything.

'Does this hurt?' She asked, adjusting the brace into place.

'A little.' You admitted.

Her brows knit together just slightly. Not dramatic, but enough to show she cared more than she was letting on.

'Tell me if it gets worse.' She said quietly.

'I will.'

You watched her for a second, on the way she focused, on the way her fingers worked carefully around your knee, tightening the brace just enough. She always got like this when it came to you. Attentive.

'Okay,' she murmured, pressing the last strap into place. 'Try that.'

You shifted your leg slightly.

'It's better, thanks.' You said softly.

She glanced up at you and smiled just a little. Then reached for your water bottle.

You blinked. 'Hey... that’s mine.'

'I know.'

She took a sip anyway.

You stared at her. 'But... but you have your own.'

'I don’t like mine.'

'…It’s the same brand.'

'Yours tastes better.'

You let out a quiet huff of disbelief, shaking your head. 'That makes no sense.'

She took another sip. 'Still better.'

Across the room, Daniela froze mid-stretch as she tuned into the end of your conversation.

'… I’m sorry—what?' She said, slowly turning to look at the two of you.

You frowned slightly. 'What?'

Daniela’s face shifted into something between horror and confusion. '…I’m not even going to ask.'

You blinked again. 'Ask what?'

Before she could respond—Manon, who had clearly understood the situation properly, suddenly let out a laugh.

Not a small one. A full, uncontrollable, losing it kind of laugh.

'OH—' she tried to speak, but couldn’t, covering her mouth as she leaned forward slightly. 'No, no, no—Dani—'

'What?' Daniela demanded, looking between all of you.

Manon shook her head, still laughing. 'You heard that wrong.'

'I definitely didn’t.'

'You did,' Manon insisted, barely holding it together now. 'You absolutely did.'

The rest of the room started looking over. Confused but curious.

'What’s happening?' Megan asked.

'Nothing.' You said quickly.

'Something.' Daniela shot back.

Sophia, who had been listening from where she stood nearby, narrowed her eyes slightly.

'Wait—what did I miss?' She asked, stepping closer. 'What are we talking about?'

Manon wheezed again at that. Because that was exactly the problem.

'It’s just—' Manon tried, failing again almost immediately. 'She said—'

Lara, meanwhile, was completely unbothered, still sitting beside you while holding your bottle like she had committed no crime whatsoever.

Sophia looked between all of you now. 'What?' She asks, hoping someone would just get to the point.

Daniela pointed immediately. 'She said hers tastes better.'

'What tastes better?!' Sophia asked instantly, her voice rising slightly as she stepped closer. 'Like—what are we even talking about right now?'

Manon was still visibly trying not to laugh, which was making it worse.

'Water,' Manon finally managed, breathless. 'It’s just… water.'

Sophia went completely still. '…Water.'

'Yes,' Manon said quickly, already losing it again. 'Lara said Y/N's water tastes better, even though it’s literally the same—'

Sophia stared at Manon, then at Daniela, then at you and then finally at Lara. She exhaled through her nose, already done.

Manon immediately lifted her hands in defence.

'No, no—wait, I can explain,' she said quickly, still barely holding back laughter. 'It’s just that Daniela heard it completely out of context, right? And I understood what they meant, so it was funny because—because—'

She paused, realising she was making it worse.

'Okay, no,' she admitted, shaking her head, a smile still fighting its way through. 'You kind of just had to be there.'

'You people are unbelievable.' Sophia muttered. Then she turned around and walked away.

Manon lost it completely after that. Daniela looked like she was questioning her life choices.

You blinked slowly. '…What just happened?'

Lara tilted her head slightly, still completely calm, still holding your bottle like nothing in the universe had changed. 'I don't know, I wasn’t really listening… I was thinking about you.'

You blinked. '…What?'

She shrugged faintly, like it was the most normal thing in the world. 'You look so cute when you're confused, I got distracted.'

You let out a quiet breath through your nose as you shake your head a little, still trying to process the absolute chaos unfolding around you.

'Can I have that back now?' You asked, reaching for it.

She handed it over reluctantly. You took a sip.

'… literally tastes the same.'

She shrugged. 'Not to me.'

You rolled your eyes—but your lips curved slightly.

Later, after another run-through, after more hours, after your body felt like it had reached its limit, you ended up lying on the floor.

Flat on your back, arms slightly spread out, completely done in.

'Don’t move.' You muttered to no one in particular.

'I wasn’t planning on it.' Megan replied from somewhere nearby.

A few seconds passed. Then Lara dropped down beside you. She shifted immediately, turning onto her side so she could face you and then leaned in.

Her arms wrapped around you without hesitation, pulling you into her.

You let out a soft breath as your body adjusted, turning slightly so you could fit more comfortably against her. Her head tucked into the space just below your chin.

Your arm came up automatically, resting across her back.

'You’re warm.' She murmured.

'You’re clingy.' You replied.

'Mhm.'

There was no denial as she held you a little tighter.

The room was quieter now as everyone is recovering, catching their breath.

You stared up at the ceiling for a moment. Then asked, 'What do you want for dinner?'

She hummed softly but didn’t answer right away.

'I don’t know.' She admitted after a second.

You tilted your head slightly, thinking. 'I could get you that thing you like,' you said. 'From the place near the apartment.'

She shifted slightly. 'What thing?'

You glanced down at her. 'Your favourite. The... what is it? Rasam.'

There was a pause, a very noticeable one.

Then she lifted her head slightly, looking at you properly now. '…You’d get that for me?' She asked, softer than before.

You shrugged slightly. 'Yeah. You like it.'

That was it. Something in her expression shifted instantly. Softened.

Before you could even process it, she leaned in and kissed you. Quick but gentle and full of something real.

You blinked, slightly caught off guard. 'What was that for?' You asked quietly.

She smiled that same soft, almost shy smile she only really gave you. 'Nothing.' She said.

Then, after a second, softer, '…Everything.'

She tucked herself back against you, arms wrapping around you again like she never intended to let go.

And honestly? You didn’t mind one bit.

---

Another example of Lara's clinginess was when you were on tour. The bus hummed softly beneath you. Not loud, not disruptive, just constant.

It was the kind of background noise you stopped noticing after a while—the low engine, the occasional shift in gears, the faint rattle of something in a cupboard that no one had properly secured.

Outside, it was dark. Inside, it was dim.

Most of the lights were off, save for a few small lamps near the bunks and the faint glow from phone screens scattered throughout the bus.

You were in your bunk. Curled slightly on your side, one arm tucked under your pillow, the other holding your phone just above your face, mindlessly scrolling.

Your body was tired. Not just sleepy tired, but deep, bone-level exhaustion that came from weeks of performing, travelling, repeating the same cycle over and over again.

But your brain was wide awake.

You scrolled through video after video, barely processing any of them. A dance, a meme, someone cooking something you’d never attempt.

You exhaled softly, shifting slightly to get more comfortable when the curtain to your bunk moved.

You barely reacted.

Lara.

You turned your head just slightly as she stuck her head in, already assessing where she's going to lie.

'There you are.' She says sleepily, like she’d been looking for you for hours instead of two seconds.

You smiled faintly. 'I’ve been here the whole time.'

'Mhm.' She hummed, not really listening.

She didn’t even hesitate, didn’t even ask. She just crawled in properly and immediately curled up on top of you. Her head settling against your chest, her arm draping across your stomach, one leg hooked loosely over yours.

Full body contact with no space left to breathe.

You let out a quiet breath, instinctively shifting your phone out of the way so it didn’t hit her.

'You have your own bunk, y'know.' You murmured.

'Don’t want it.'

Of course she didn’t.

You adjusted slightly, moving your body just enough to give her more space. Which, realistically meant you were now closer to the edge. Like… dangerously close.

But you didn’t push her away. You didn’t even consider it. Instead, your free hand came up, resting lightly against her back.

She sighed, soft and content. And within seconds she was asleep. Just like that.

You stared at the ceiling for a moment, then down at her. Her breathing had already evened out, her grip on you just loose enough to be relaxed—but still there. Still holding you.

'Unbelievable.' You whispered, though there was no real complaint behind it.

You shifted slightly again, trying to get comfortable without disturbing her.

The bus hit a small bump. Nothing major. Just enough to make everything shake slightly.

You stilled, hoping it hadn't woken Lara up. It was then that you realised you were really close to the edge now.

You glanced down, then back up.

'…Oh that's a long way down.' You muttered.

There was another bump. Your body shifted just a little. Lara didn’t move, didn’t wake up. Still completely dead asleep on top of you. You tightened your grip on her instinctively.

'Okay—this is fine—'

The bus hit yet another bump. A proper bump this time. And suddenly you were falling. It wasn’t graceful, it wasn’t slow. You just dropped. A very real, very solid thud echoed through the bus.

'OW—'

You landed on your side, tangled slightly in the blanket that had fallen with you, your phone clattering somewhere beside you.

There was a moment of silence.

Then a quiet, 'Y/N… Where’d you go?'

You blinked up at the bunk where Lara was. Soon her head peered over the edge as she blinked sleepily at you.

'…You left.' She said, voice thick with sleep.

'I fell.' You corrected, wincing slightly as you pushed yourself up.

'Oh.'

She stared at you, almost like she was processing. Then suddenl she moved. Fast. Well—fast for someone who had been asleep two seconds ago.

She scrambled out of the bunk, nearly tripping over the blanket in the process.

'Are you okay?' She asked, crouching down in front of you.

'I’m fine.' You said, though your pride was slightly injured.

'You fell.' She repeated, like this was the most serious thing that had ever happened.

'Yes, Lara, I’m aware.'

She reached out, brushing her hands lightly over your arms like she was checking for damage. 'You could’ve gotten hurt.'

'I didn’t.'

'You might’ve.'

You looked at her, really looked at her. Her hair was a mess, her eyes half-lidded with sleep, her voice still soft and groggy. And yet, she was fully focused on you.

You softened slightly. 'I’m okay.' You repeated, gentler this time.

She stared at you for another second. Then nodded, 'Okay.'

A second went by before she stood up. 'Come here.'

You blinked. 'What?'

'We're sleeping in my bunk,' she said, already moving, 'It’s lower.'

You hesitated. '…You’re kicking me out of mine?'

'I’m upgrading you.' She corrected.

You huffed a small laugh, but followed her anyway.

Her bunk was lower, safer, less… fall risk.

She crawled in first this time, adjusting the blanket before looking back at you expectantly. 'Come on.'

You shook your head slightly, but climbed in. The space was tighter, but that didn’t matter. Because the second you were in, she pulled you down with her.

She manoeuvred you so your back pressed against the mattress as she pressed her body into your side, her arm wrapping around you like nothing had happened, like this was always the plan.

'There,' she murmured, already settling in again. 'that's better.'

You let out a quiet breath. 'Yeah.' You admitted.

Her head found your shoulder this time, her leg hooking loosely over yours again. But now, you weren’t on the edge. There was no risk.

You adjusted slightly, your arm coming up around her. And within seconds, she was asleep again.

You stared at the ceiling for a moment. Then closed your eyes.

'…I literally fell out of a bunk.' You muttered quietly.

'Mhm.' She hummed, already half gone again.

And just like that, everything settled.

What neither of you realised, was that from across the bus, Sophia had seen everything, phone in hand, camera rolling.

She zoomed in slightly on the two of you now tucked into the lower bunk, tangled together like nothing had happened.

She whispered, barely containing her laughter, 'Not her falling out and still ending up cuddling…'

The video cut there.

And you?

You’d have no idea it existed. At least, not yet.

---

You were an affectionate person by nature, but not usually around other people. Most of your softer moments were saved for when it was just you and Lara—where affection came easier, quieter, and without thought.

Which was exactly why the girls noticed the moment you walked straight towards her.

You’d been awake for hours. But not by choice.

It started early, too early. That uncomfortable, restless kind of waking where your body just refuses to stay asleep.

At first, you tried to ignore it. Shifted positions, pulled the blanket tighter, turned your pillow over to the cooler side.

Of course it didn’t work. Because the cramps had already settled in. Low, heavy and persistent.

You let out a slow breath, curling slightly onto your side, one hand pressing instinctively against your lower stomach.

'Seriously…' You mumbled into your pillow.

You reached for the pain meds on your bedside table, took them and waited for them to kick in.

Nothing. Not even a dent.

'Great.' You muttered.

And as if that wasn’t enough, the headache lingered. The migraine itself had passed—that horrible blur, the sensitivity, the can’t even open your eyes properly part—but what it left behind?

A dull, pounding ache that sat right behind your eyes. Every movement just reminded you it was there.

You stared at the ceiling for a moment. Hungry, tired, sore and just very uncomfortable in your own body.

And you couldn’t even get comfortable. Every position felt wrong. Too much pressure, not enough support, something always felt off.

You groaned softly, dragging a hand down your face. 'Okay… okay.' You murmured to yourself.

You needed something, you just didn’t know what. But then, you did.

You pushed yourself up slowly, wincing slightly as your body protested the movement. One hand instinctively pressed against your lower back this time.

'Lara.' You mumbled under your breath.

It wasn’t a decision you thought through, not really. It was just instinct. You shuffled out of your room, moving slower than usual, your steps slightly heavier.

Voices carried from the living room, normal, calm.

'…I’m just saying, communication matters more than anything.' Sophia was saying.

You stepped into the doorway. The scene was soft, familiar.

Sophia and Lara were on the couch, turned slightly toward each other, deep in conversation. Manon sat nearby, scrolling through her phone, occasionally chiming into Daniela’s separate conversation.

Everything felt normal, except you. You let out a small groan as you stepped further in.

Four heads turned immediately.

'Hey—' Manon’s expression shifted first, concern settling in, 'You okay?'

You paused and considered answering properly. But the words didn’t really come.

'Mm… no.' You mumbled instead, voice low and rough, barely more than a grumble.

You kept walking. Straight past them, straight to Lara. She barely had time to react because you didn’t stop.

You just climbed onto her lap with no hesitation, no warning. One second she was mid-conversation and the next, you were there. Settling yourself between her legs, turning slightly so your side pressed into her, your head dropping forward against her shoulder.

'Hi.' You mumbled, already curling into her.

There was a long moment of silence before Lara’s entire body shifted, softened, opened. Her arms came around you instantly like it was the most natural response in the world.

'Hey,' she said, voice dropping immediately, all her attention snapping to you. 'What’s wrong?'

Sophia blinked. '…Okay—'

But Lara didn’t even hear her. Her hands moved gently over your arms, your back, grounding, checking, there.

You let out a quiet breath as she pulled you closer, your body relaxing almost immediately into hers.

'Cramps,' you muttered against her shoulder. 'And my head… and I didn’t sleep properly…'

She frowned slightly, her hand coming up to rest lightly against the side of your head. 'Hey…' She murmured, softer now.

Her chin rested gently against the top of your head as her grip tightened just slightly.

'Did you take anything?' She asked.

'Mhm. Didn’t work.'

She hummed quietly, her thumb starting slow, absentminded circles against your arm. 'You’re warm.' She noted softly.

'I feel like I’m dying.' You mumbled.

That got a small breath of a laugh out of her. Not because it was funny, but because of the way you said it.

'I’ve got you.' She said, pressing a soft kiss into your hair.

You didn’t respond, you just sank further into her.

Behind you, Sophia was still sitting there, processing. '…I was literally mid-sentence.' She said, slightly offended.

Daniela looked over, then back at her. '…Yeah,' she said slowly, 'but… look.'

Sophia followed her gaze. You—curled into Lara, completely unbothered by anyone else in the room. Lara—wrapped around you like nothing else existed.

'…Oh.' Sophia said.

Manon glanced up from her phone, immediately understanding.

Daniela leaned slightly toward Sophia, lowering her voice just enough— 'Yeah, this doesn’t usually happen.'

Sophia frowned slightly. 'What do you mean?'

'She goes to her,' Daniela clarified quietly, nodding toward you, 'but not like… this.'

Not like this, not in the middle of a room, not without caring who was watching, not without hesitation.

Manon smiled faintly, watching the two of you. 'It’s rare,' she added. 'She usually waits. Or pulls her aside.'

Sophia’s expression softened. 'Oh.'

Across from them—

Lara adjusted the blanket draped over the back of the couch, pulling it around you without even thinking. Her hand moved back to your arm, still tracing slow patterns, still grounding.

'You want me to make you something?' She asked quietly.

You shook your head slightly. 'Just stay, please.'

She stilled for a second at that. Not because it was unusual that you wanted her, but because of how you said it.

Soft, tired and needy in a way you didn’t usually show so openly.

She didn’t hesitate. 'Okay.' She murmured immediately, tightening her hold around you just a little.

Her hand moved slowly up your arm, then back down again, a steady, calming motion. She was quiet for a moment, thinking.

Then, softly asked, 'Hey… do you want me to get you something? Like—actual help, not just me.' She added gently.

You huffed faintly. 'You are actual help.'

She smiled a little at that, pressing a soft kiss into your hair. 'I know, but like—' she hesitated, then continued, 'my mom sent me some stuff. Natural things for cramps and headaches.'

You shifted slightly, just enough to look up at her. 'Like what?'

'It’s Indian medication,' she explained quietly. 'Herbal tablets… and there’s this oil too. It’s meant to help with pain—like, really help. She swears by it.'

You blinked slowly, processing. 'Does it work?' You asked.

'It does for me,' she said simply. 'And she uses it all the time.'

You considered it. You didn’t usually try new things like that. But right now? You’d try anything.

'…Okay.' You murmured.

She nodded once. 'Yeah?'

'Yeah,' you said softly, then added, tightening your hold on her slightly, 'But you can’t move.'

She let out a small breath of a laugh. 'Of course.'

She didn’t even try to get up. Instead, she looked past you, 'Sophia.'

Sophia blinked. '…Why am I involved?'

'My bag,' Lara said, completely serious, 'The big one. In my room.'

Sophia stared at her. 'The big one?'

'Mhm.'

'The one that weighs, like, ten kilos for no reason?'

'It has things in it.' Lara defended mildly.

Daniela snorted. 'It has everything in it.'

Manon was already smiling.

Sophia sighed dramatically, pushing herself up from the couch. 'I was having a conversation.' She muttered.

'You’ll survive.' Lara replied calmly.

'You owe me.' Sophia added, pointing at her as she walked off.

'Yeah, yeah.'

You shifted slightly against Lara as the room settled again. Your eyes had already drifted half-shut. 'Told you not to carry that everywhere.' You mumbled.

'And yet,' she said softly, brushing her fingers through your hair, 'it’s helping right now.'

You hummed faintly. Couldn’t argue with that.

A few moments later, there was a thud.

Sophia dropped the bag down beside the couch. 'There,' she said. 'If I’ve dislocated something, I expect compensation.'

'Thank you.' Lara replied, already reaching for it. She unzipped it with one hand, the other still securely around you.

'Of course you can do this one-handed.' Daniela muttered.

'Practice.' Lara said simply.

You felt her shift slightly as she searched through the bag, her arm tightening around you briefly to keep you close.

'Okay,' she murmured, pulling something out, 'Here.'

You opened your eyes just enough to see a small container. Simple, nothing intimidating.

'They’re herbal tablets,' she explained softly. 'Mostly things like ginger, turmeric, and ajwain—it’s supposed to help with cramps and inflammation.'

You nodded slowly.

'And this,' she added, reaching back into the bag and pulling out a small bottle, 'is oil. You rub it on your lower stomach or back. It helps relax everything.'

You blinked at it. '…You carry all this around?'

'Mhm.'

'Of course you do.' You muttered.

She smiled faintly. 'Sit up just a little.' She said gently.

You groaned quietly—but did it anyway, shifting just enough for her to guide you.

She handed you the tablets first, grabbing her own water. 'Take these.' She said softly.

You did, without question. Then she poured a small amount of oil into her hand.

Before you could really react, she shifted slightly—guiding you with a gentle hand at your side. 'Turn this way.' She said softly.

You followed without thinking, your body already heavy and compliant, turning so you were facing her fully now—your back angled toward the rest of the room.

Shielded, it was subtle but intentional.

Her knee nudged slightly between yours to steady you, one arm still wrapped securely around your back to keep you close as she adjusted you into a more comfortable position.

Then her other hand moved. Careful and respectful as she adjusted the waistband of your joggers slightly—just enough to give her access, nothing more.

It wasn’t rushed, wasn’t careless, just quiet consideration.

From where the others sat, it looked like nothing more than you curled into her—her arms around you, holding you close.

But in that small space between you, she took care of you properly. Her hand settled against your lower stomach, warm now from the oil.

You exhaled softly at the contact, your forehead dipping forward to rest lightly against her shoulder.

Her touch was slow, gentle with small circular motions, consistent and grounding, her focus entirely on easing the tension she knew was sitting there.

'Okay?' She asked quietly, her voice close to your ear.

You nodded faintly against her. '…Yeah.'

The warmth spread gradually this time. Not overwhelming, just easing.

Her arm around your back tightened slightly, pulling you closer into her chest as she continued, keeping you tucked in, hidden from view without making it obvious. Like this moment was just yours.

Your hands curled lightly into the fabric of her hoodie, holding onto her without thinking.

She noticed. Of course she did.

And her movements softened even more. Slower, more deliberate. She didn’t press hard. Just slow, circular motions as the warmth spread gradually. It wasn't instant relief—but it was something, something softer.

You let out a quiet breath, your body relaxing almost immediately under her touch.

'Better?' She asked softly.

'…Yeah.' You admitted.

Her hand moved slowly, rhythm steady, consistent. Her other arm stayed wrapped around you, holding you in place, keeping you close.

'You’re not allowed to go anywhere.' You mumbled.

'I’m not going anywhere.' She replied. And she meant it.

Behind you, Sophia sat back down, watching the whole thing with a softer expression now.

'…Okay.' She said quietly, more to herself than anyone else.

Daniela glanced at her. 'Yeah.'

Manon just smiled. Because this wasn’t something they saw often. Not you like this, not so openly, not so softly needing.

But Lara? Lara looked like this was exactly where she was meant to be. Holding you, taking care of you. Not letting go.

And you, you weren’t letting her go either.

Lara stayed like that for a while. One arm wrapped securely around you, the other resting lightly where she’d been helping, her touch now still—gentle, grounding, present.

She looked down at you, really looked. Your face was tucked into her chest, your breathing slower now, your body finally starting to loosen where it had been tense all morning.

Your grip on her hoodie hadn’t gone anywhere. If anything, it had tightened just slightly.

She smiled as her thumb brushed lightly over your arm, absentminded, careful not to disturb you.

For a moment, everything else faded out again. Just like it always did.

But then she glanced up and froze. Because they were all watching. Sophia, Manon and Daniela.

Not staring in a weird way. Not teasing. Just smiling, knowing.

Lara blinked once, then immediately looked away. '…Don’t.' She muttered under her breath, a faint flush creeping up her cheeks.

Daniela grinned. 'We didn’t say anything.'

'You didn’t have to.' Lara mumbled.

Manon just shook her head softly, still smiling to herself.

Sophia leaned back slightly, arms crossing as she watched the two of you for another second before speaking again. '…Anyway,' she said, picking the conversation back up, though her tone had softened, 'as I was saying—communication.'

Lara let out a quiet breath, trying to compose herself a little. But her arm around you didn’t move, didn’t loosen.

'Yeah.' She said, nodding slightly.

Sophia tilted her head. 'Like actually saying what you need. Not expecting the other person to just… guess.'

Lara hummed quietly. Then almost instinctively, she glanced down at you again. Still tucked into her, still holding onto her, still there.

A small smile returned before she could stop it. 'I mean…' She said, voice softer now. She gestured lightly toward you with the hand that wasn’t wrapped around you.

'…this is a pretty good example.'

You shifted slightly at that, but didn’t lift your head. Still half-buried into her.

Sophia followed her gaze. '…Yeah.' She admitted.

Lara’s fingers brushed lightly over your arm again. Absentmindedly and affectionately.

'She always comes to me,' she added quietly. 'If something’s wrong. Or if she’s overwhelmed. Or—' she paused briefly, her expression softening again, '—even if she just needs… this.'

Her arm tightened around you just slightly.

You didn’t say anything, didn’t need to. But your hand shifted against her hoodie. A small, unconscious squeeze.

Lara felt it immediately and her smile deepened just a fraction.

'And you respond.' Sophia pointed out.

'Of course I do.' Lara replied, like it was the most obvious thing in the world. There was no hesitation in it, no second thought. Just certainty.

Sophia watched her for a moment then nodded. '…Yeah. That’s kind of the whole point.'

A quiet settled over the room again. Not awkward, just warm.

Lara adjusted the blanket around you slightly, making sure you were still comfortable, still covered, still close.

Her chin rested lightly against the top of your head again. And this time, she didn’t bother hiding the smile.

You're all over the stage, loose now, playful. No strict formation, just movement. Hair sticking to sweat damp skin, smiles wide, adrenaline high. Someone spins, someone else almost collides with another member and laughs it off mid-choreo.

Then something changes.

It's subtle enough that most people don't catch it at first. The fan filming zooms in on you because you've suddenly gone very still, half a beat off.

You reach back instinctively, too quick and too precise for it to be choreography. Your shoulders tense, your smile falters for a fraction of a second before you turn sharply, presenting your back to the crowd as one arm crosses over yourself.

You're clearly trying to keep dancing, trying to keep it normal. But there's a flash of panic in the way you glance sideways, eyes scanning for help.

Manon see's it immediately.

You can actually see the moment it registers. Her head snaps towards you, expression shifting from carefree to focused in less than a second.

She doesn't even hesitate.

She moves fast, purposeful, cutting across the stage instead of following the loose formation. As she passes Megan, she grabs her wrist without even looking at her.

The fan filming zooms in harder now, confused. 'What—?' Someone yells near the camera.

Manon positions Megan directly in front of you, her back to you as she faces the crowd, arms lifting instinctively to block the view like she already understands. Megan's still smiling at first, thinking it's a bit... until she turns to look at you.

Her smile drops.

Manon steps in close beside you, one hand steady at your shoulder, the other already working at the strap that's come undone. Her body shields yours completely, tall and solid, blocking every angle the crowd might have.

From the fans camera, all you can see is Megan's front and Manon's side profile, the two of them forming a wall around you.

The music keeps going. So do the other girls. So does the crowd, mostly unaware, still screaming, still filming.

Manon leans in, her mouth close to your ear. You can't hear what she says over the music, but you nod quickly, breathing shallow, hands clenched at your sides.

Her hands work quickly, precise and careful. You jolt faintly at the adjustment, but the smile that follows tells everyone it’s been fixed.

She tests it once, then twice, making sure its secure. Only then does she pull back slightly, eyes scanning you head to toe, checking that you're okay.

You look up at her, relief flooding your face so openly it almost hurts to see.

Manon gives you a small nod, only then does she step away.

Megan spins back into the song like nothing happened, professionalism snapping back into place. You turn with her, shoulders squaring, smile returning—this time real.

The beat drops as you re-join the others, dancing like your heart isn't still racing.

From the phone, the fan lets out a breathy laugh, half shocked, 'No way,' she says. 'Did you guys see that?'

Top comments under the video:

chatter01: manon clocked that INSTANTLY 15k likes 2.9k replies chatter02: there was no hesitation 98k likes 7k replies chatter03: 100% focus right there, the crowd did not exist in that moment 101.3k likes 53.7k replies chatter04: MANON CARES 37k likes 1.8k replies chatter05: she dont want her gf to flash everyone, makes sense 159.3k likes 68k replies ↳ chatter06: you're delulu 150k likes ↳ chatter05: ik 😭 248k likes

---

📹Clip Two📹

(VMA's BTS from interview) - 3.7M views

The first clip is clean.

Crisp audio and perfect lighting. The VMA's step and repeat stretching endlessly behind you in black and silver, logo's sharp and glossy.

The interviewer smiles wide, microphone angled just right. 'So, from being on tour and now you're all here tonight,' she asks, 'what's been the most surprising part of this year for you all?'

The camera frames you first. You step forward automatically, posture straight, smile practiced. You start strong measured and professional. 'I think for us, it's really about-about learning how to... um—'

You blink as the words tangle.

'... how to, like, grow individually while also... group—grouping?' You pause, eyes widening slightly as you realise what you just said.

There's a beat as you laugh nervously, cheeks flushing. 'Sorry—wow. I just combined about six thoughts into one sentence.'

The interviewer chuckles kindly. 'It happens.'

You inhale, shake it off and finish the thought smoothly, this time talking about growth, gratitude, the fans, the year. You land it.

But beside you— Manon is losing it.

The camera catches her just enough—lips pressed together, shoulders shaking as she tries not to laugh. Her eyes flick to you, warm and amused.

You glance at her and immediately groan. 'Don't.'

She bites her lip harder, fails, and lets out a soft giggle anyway.

The camera pans away then, shifting focus to Sophia as she smoothly continues the answer, voice confident and unfazed.

There's a cut to the next clip which starts shakier.

Vertical. Grainier. Clearly filmed from behind the barricade, the audio muddled with crowd noise and distant music.

The same moment, same question. But this time, you can see everything the official camera missed.

The fan’s phone zooms in too quickly, the frame jerking slightly as she tries to steady it. You cringe, laugh, apologise. The crowd behind the camera lets out soft, affectionate laughter.

Then the interviewers' camera pans away. The fans doesn't. The second it does, Manon leans in.

She bumps her shoulder into yours, laughing openly now, head tipping forward until her forehead nearly touches your shoulder. Her hand comes up instinctively, curling into the fabric at your side as she pulls you a little closer.

'You grouped.' She whispers, still giggling as the fans camera manages to pick up the words.

You hide your face briefly in your hand. 'I hate you.'

'No, you don't.' She says immediately, voice fond but still warm with laughter.

She slides her arm around you properly then. Not showy, not posed. Just a soft, grounding half hug while the interview continues without you.

You relax into it without thinking.

The fan filming gasps quietly. 'Oh my god,' she whispers. 'I caught that on video.'

Manon's laughter fades into something softer as she presses her cheek briefly against your shoulder, like she's sharing the moment with you instead of mocking it.

You tilt your head toward her, murmuring something back that the camera can't quite catch, but it makes her smile again, slower this time.

The clip ends mid scream.

Top comments under the video:

chatter01: the official cam missed EVERYTHING 47k likes 1.5k replies chatter02: yup, she grouped 4.9k likes 954 replies chatter03: laughing then comforting, thats so real 968k likes 76.8k replies chatter04: manon laughing INTO HER SIDE is insane 165k likes 7.3k replies chatter05: okayyyyy, we get itttttt just date already 917.9k likes 101k replies

---

📹Clip Three📹

(Caught in 4k) - 1.1M views

The video isn't shaky this time. It's steady. Too steady.

The fan filming clearly doesn't realise what they've caught at first — they're just recording the basketball game atmosphere. The scoreboard flashes overhead. The arena lights sweep across the crowd during a timeout as music blasts through the speakers.

Then the camera pans casually across the lower bowl seating.

And stops.

'Wait—' The person filming says.

It zooms in. And there you are.

You're seated courtside, casual in hoodies, no stage makeup. No performance smiles. Just... off duty.

Manon is beside you, sitting close. Closer than friendly close.

Her arm is draped around your shoulders like it's been there all night. Not loose, not temporary.

Resting. Settled.

You're tucked slightly into her side, body angled toward her instead of the court.

The fan filming audibly gasps. 'Oh my god! That's Y/N and Manon from Katseye!'

The camera zooms further. You're both watching the game but you're not really watching it.

You lean up first, saying something into her ear over the noise of the arena. Your mouth brushes close — too close — because you have to be heard.

Manon tilts her head down to listen. Not pulling away. If anything, leaning in more.

Her hand tightens just slightly at your shoulder.

The crowd roars at a play. But neither of you react. You're still mid-conversation.

Now she leans down to your ear. Her lips move slowly, close enough that if the arena were quiet, it would look intimate instead of practical.

You laugh at whatever she says, soft and private. Not camera aware in the slightest.

You don't move away afterwards. You stay tucked there. Manon's arm doesn't shift. It looks... natural. Like this is where you sit.

The fan zooms even closer.

There's a moment. It happens fast as something on the court draws a reaction from the people around you. The section rises slightly in surprise. You both turn at the same time, not toward the court.

But towards each other. Your faces are already close, it looks like muscle memory.

Manon's head tilts, yours does too. For half a second, your noses almost brush.

The camera catches the exact frame where it looks like your lips might meet. But the angle is strange.

There's a man in the row in front of you who stands up at the worst possible time. The fan's phone shifts slightly.

When the view clears again, you're both facing forward like nothing happened.

Manon's arm is still around you. You're still tucked under it. No fluster, no laugh, no space created.

Just normal. Which makes it worse. Because if it had been accidental, awkward, platonic — there would've been a reaction.

Instead, you adjust your sleeve. She squeezes your shoulder once and you both continue watching the game.

The fan filming is scream yelling now, 'Did they just—?'

The camera shakes before the clip ends.

Top comments under the video:

chatter01: am I insane or did they literally almost kiss 1M likes 563.7k replies chatter02: they turned at the same time that’s not random 176k likes 35.2k replies chatter03: I slowed it down to 0.25 and their noses TOUCH 54k likes 9k replies chatter04: pause at 00:07. her head tilts. HEAD. TILTS 76.1k likes 4.3k replies chatter05: the person recording is lucky to have witnessed this live 39k likes 2k replies

---

📹Clip Four📹

(The Pinata Incident) - 689.1k Views

The video once again starts shaky.

Someone in the crowd is laughing as they try to focus their phone, zooming in too far and then pulling back. The stage lights are bright whites and golds washing over everything as the cheers are deafening.

A brightly coloured pinata is being hauled out onstage. The crowd is losing it.

You can barely hear the girls over the screaming, but the context is obvious. The pinata sways slightly as a staff member steadies it, the giant stick already being passed around.

A fan behind the camera yells, 'TRES TURNOS!' And the people around them cheer.

The first few hits go by in a blur of laughter, dramatic swings as the pinata barely moves. Every miss is met with exaggerated reactions and mock despair.

The camera wobbles as it tracks movement.

Then its Sophia's turn. She steps forward confidently, gripping the oversized stick with both hands. The pinata hangs slightly off centre, and from this angle, its immediately clear — she's standing way too close to the rest of you.

You're off to the side with Megan and Manon, half watching, half laughing, bodies angled casually toward the crowd. None of you seem concerned. Yet.

Sophia winds up. And from the fan's perspective, the angle is terrifying.

The stick arcs back—and for a split second, it looks like she’s about to take out all three of you in one swing.

There’s an audible gasp from the crowd near the camera.

Your face changes instantly. Pure, unfiltered terror. Your eyes widen, mouth dropping open as your brain clearly screams oh no.

Megan’s expression mirrors yours—eyes huge, shoulders tensing as she instinctively ducks.

Manon just completely freezes. Her hands come up uselessly, half defensive, half confused, like her body hasn't decided whether to run or accept her fate.

Sophia swings. You react without thinking. Your hand shoots out, grabbing Manon by the arm and yanking her sharply toward you. With your other hand, you push Megan back by the shoulders, guiding her out of the swing's path just in case.

The crowd shrieks, half with fear, half with laughter.

Manon, instead of moving away — steps directly behind you.

The fan filming loses it. 'OH MY GOD—' They laugh breathlessly as the camera shakes even more now.

Manon presses herself against your back, hands gripping your stage outfit like you’re a shield. She peeks over your shoulder, eyes wide, watching Sophia like she’s handling live explosives.

You plant your feet instinctively, body angled protectively, one arm still out like you’re her personal barrier.

Megan stumbles back into frame, staring at you both. 'MANON?' She clearly mouths, incredulous.

But Manon doesn't move.

Sophia's swing misses everything. The stick just whistling through the air close enough that the threat feels real.

You turn your head slightly, saying something to Manon that the mic doesn't catch, but the tone is obvious from your expression — are you serious right now?

Manon responds by pressing closer. She laughs nervously, face half hidden behind your shoulder, clearly unashamed. One hands pats your side like she's congratulating herself on an excellent survival strategy.

Megan points at her, laughing now. 'Wow.'

Sophia finally looks over, realising what almost happened. Her eyes widen as she immediately lowers the stick, horrified.

'Oh—oh, sorry!' She says into her mic, audible this time.

You gesture wildly with your free hand like, you almost murdered us. Manon stays exactly where she is.

The fan zooms in dramatically. 'Manon said HUMAN SHIELD.' The person filming wheezes.

The video ends with Manon still behind you, chin nearly on your shoulder, smiling sheepishly at the audience like she’s proud of her choice.

Top comments under the video:

chatter01: THE WAY THEY ALL FLINCHED 😭 78.7k likes 4k replies chatter02: that wasn’t choreographed that was SURVIVAL 143k likes 88k replies chatter03: the way y/n didnt even think twice and grabbed manon like it was a life or death situation 564k likes 96.3k replies chatter04: oh to be yanked by y/n like that... 433.1k likes 49.2k replies chatter05: you can hide behind me manon, ill even pay you to 32k likes 1.1k replies

---

📹Clip Five📹

(Her irrational fear is what?!) 789.3K Views

The livestream is already chaotic, but in a comfortable way.

You, Manon, and Daniela are sitting cross-legged on the floor of your apartment, backs against the couch. The lighting is soft, phone propped up as the comments are flying too fast to read.

Daniela is mid-story about almost slipping on stage when Manon interrupts to read a question.

'Okay, wait — this is interesting,' she says, squinting at the screen. 'What’s your most irrational fear?'

Daniela answers first. 'Mine is birds flying too close to my face,' she says immediately. 'Like I know they’re just existing but why are you existing near me?'

You laugh.

Manon nods thoughtfully. 'Mine is escalators eating my shoelaces.'

Daniela bursts out laughing. 'That is so specific.'

'So fair though.' You nod in agreement.

Then they both look at you.

You hesitate.

There’s a tiny pause before you answer.

'Okay, don’t judge me,' you say. 'But I have this thing where I’m scared someone’s hacked into my phone and is watching me through the camera.'

There’s a beat. A full second of silence.

Daniela blinks. Then she laughs. Not mean. Not cruel. Just immediate.

'No one wants to watch you that bad!' She says, still giggling.

You see the chat explode instantly, comments flying by quicker than you can read.

You try to laugh it off, but you shrink slightly where you’re sitting. Shoulders tucking in. You wave your hand dismissively.

'I know it’s irrational,' you say quickly. 'That’s the point.'

Daniela keeps smiling. 'Like imagine some hacker just watching you scroll at 2am.'

You roll your eyes, embarrassed now.

And then Manon speaks. 'Hey.'

It’s soft, but firm enough that Daniela stops laughing.

Manon shifts slightly closer to you without making a show of it. 'That’s not weird,' she says. 'A lot of people are scared of that.'

Daniela looks between you both, grin fading a little.

Manon keeps going. 'Privacy stuff is scary,' she shrugs. 'It’s not dumb.'

You glance at her. The camera catches it — that half-second look.

Manon doesn’t make it dramatic. She doesn’t overdo it. She just nudges your knee lightly with hers.

'And if anyone was watching,' she adds casually, 'they’d be bored.'

That makes you laugh. A real one this time.

You bump your shoulder into hers. 'Wow. Thanks.'

'I’m saying you’re not doing anything embarrassing.' She clarifies, deadpan.

Daniela laughs again, lighter now. 'Okay, that was kind of sweet.'

The chat is moving too fast to read, but fans later slow it down.

Top comments under the video:

chatter01: the way she said ‘hey.’ immediately 87.4k likes 9k replies chatter02: why did that make me emotional though 21k likes 901 replies chatter03: Daniela laughed. Manon didn’t 189k likes 7.6k replies ↳ chatter04: THIS 93k likes chatter05: such a real fear to have tho 158.3k likes 14k replies chatter06: adding this to my compilation of 'times Manon had Y/N's back' 100.1k likes 18k replies

---

📹Clip Six📹

(Slimed) 1.1M Views

The video starts mid-scream. Not from the stage, but from the crowd.

The fan filming is already laughing because everyone knew it was coming. The hosts had been teasing it all night. The giant cannons are visible at the sides of the stage, neon green tanks glowing under orange lights.

'IT’S GONNA HAPPEN—' Someone yells near the phone.

You’re all almost finished singing the clean version of 'Gnarly,' breathless and smiling, hyped from the crowd. The stage is bright, Nickelodeon orange and lime, graphics bouncing across the screens behind you.

You look suspicious already. Manon glances toward the wings.

The cannons fire and it’s instant chaos.

A tidal wave of neon green slime pours from above and blasts from the sides at the same time. The crowd shrieks. The fan camera jerks violently upward, then back down, catching nothing but a wall of green.

For a full second, you all disappear.

When the stage comes back into view, everyone is drenched. Hair plastered down. Outfits soaked. Slime dripping off elbows and chins and lashes.

The crowd is losing their minds.

You try to laugh. But the fan filming zooms in because you’re not laughing like the others.

You’re blinking rapidly. Too rapidly. The slime got you straight in the face.

You cough once, then again — sharper. Your hands come up instinctively, trying to wipe your eyes, your nose, your mouth all at once. It’s thick. Sticky. It looks like you can’t get a proper breath in.

From the edge of the frame, Manon appears immediately.

Not dramatic. Not exaggerated.

Immediate.

She doesn’t play to the crowd. Doesn’t throw her arms up or spin for the cameras like the others are doing.

She goes straight to you. The fan camera zooms harder, shaky but focused now.

Manon grabs your wrist gently to stop your hands from smearing it worse across your face.

'Hold on.' You can faintly read her mouth say.

Her other hand comes up to your chin, steadying you. She wipes her hand on her outfit before using her fingers to quickly swipe across your mouth, clearing the thickest layer so you can breathe.

You cough again as she moves closer. Too close for performance choreography. Too close for stage spacing.

One hand tilts your face up slightly, thumb carefully swiping under your nose. Not glamorous. Not cute. Just practical.

She checks your eyes next. Brushes slime away from your lashes with careful fingers, slower now.

The music is still playing. The others are still dancing around you, laughing, hyping the crowd.

But right in the centre of the stage, there’s this small, focused bubble.

The fan filming whispers, breathless, 'Oh my god. Oh my god, she’s literally making sure she can breathe.'

You finally inhale properly. Your shoulders drop. Manon doesn’t step away yet. She leans closer, says something else — low, quick. You nod.

Only then does she shift. Her hand slides from your jaw to the small of your back. Firm. Guiding.

Not pushing. Guiding.

She turns her own body outward slightly, creating a barrier as she walks you toward the side of the stage. Between you and the crowd. Between you and the still-dripping slime cannons.

You’re half laughing now, embarrassed, wiping at your cheeks. She keeps her hand there. All the way until you’re safely off the main centre mark.

The fan camera catches the last part before cutting off. You glance up at her, still blinking green from your lashes.

Manon squeezes your shoulder once. Quick and grounding.

Then she finally turns back to the stage like nothing happened.

The clip goes viral within hours. Not because of the slime. There are hundreds of slime angles. But this one gets replayed the most.

Top comments under the video:

chatter01: she didn’t even look at the crowd she went straight to her 😭 73.2k likes 812 replies chatter02: her hand stayed at her back the whole way off stage. the WHOLE way 22.2k likes 91 replies chatter03: everyone else was hyping the slime. Manon was doing a safety check 505.1k likes 10.3k replies chatter04: gf instincts kicked 512k likes 11k replies chatter05: you can literally see the moment she registers something’s wrong. her whole posture changes 901k likes 81.3k replies

---

📹Clip Seven📹

(?!?!) 432.8K Views

The video starts quietly. No screaming this time. No zoomed chaos.

Just the soft clink of ceramic and low indie music playing overhead.

A fan is filming discreetly from behind a plant near the window. 'Guys,' she whispers, 'I'm 99% sure that's them.'

The camera shifts slightly. You're standing at the counter of a small coffee shop. Hoodie on, hair down, no glam. Just off duty comfortable.

Manon is behind you. Not beside you. Behind you.

Her arms are fully wrapped around your waist. Not loose, not playful, not a casual side hug.

Fully wrapped.

Her fingers laced loosely over your stomach with her chin resting on your shoulder like it belongs there.

You don't look surprised by it. You lean back into her without thinking, weight setting naturally against her chest while you scan the menu board.

The barista asks something. You tilt your head toward Manon. She murmurs something into your ear, too quiet to hear.

You smile.

The fan filming audibly exhales as she zooms in a little more.

You reach into your purse for your phone.

Manon doesn't let go of you. She just shifts one arm enough to free her hand, already pulling her own phone from her pocket.

Before you can even lift your phone out the purse, she leans around you — still half wrapped around your waist — and taps her phone to the reader.

You pause mid-motion, looking back at her.

From the angle of the camera, it looks like you say, 'I was going to—'

She shrugs slightly, chin still on your shoulder. Her arms tighten again once the payment goes through.

Not performative. Not exaggerated.

Comfortable.

The kind of hold you forget is unusual.

You both wait for your drinks like that. Swaying slightly, your hands resting over hers.

Top comments under the video:

chatter01: am I looking at a couple or am I losing my mind 186k likes 12.2k replies ↳ chatter02: I’ve tried to recreate that stance with my best friend. It felt illegal 31.7k likes chatter03: soft launch final boss 19.5k likes 2.1k replies chatter04: they forgot they were in public... again 165.1k likes 9k replies chatter05: manon swiping before y/n can even get her phone out??? 8.3k likes 837 replies chatter06: theyre my moms 201.4k likes 54k replies

---

📹Clip Eight📹

(photo dump) 2.1M Likes 25.8M Views

Photo 1: The first photo is Manon in a mirror selfie. Low lighting, flash reflecting off the glass. Her hair is slightly messy, oversized jacket slipping off one shoulder. The captionless confidence she's known for.

Photo 2: A blurry group shot of Manon and a few close friends sitting around a table late at night at a restaurant. Empty glasses, half eaten fries as the table is cluttered with plates while everyone is mid-laugh.

Photo 3: Manon and her close friend Sophie cheek to cheek, both pulling ridiculous faces at the camera. Sophie's hand is squishing Manon's cheek while Manon tries to shove her away, both clearly losing the battle against laughter.

Photo 4: You and Manon standing side by side outside somewhere dimly lit, probably the restaurant or a back alley somewhere. Nothing unusual, just a regular pose. Your arm loosely around her shoulders. Her hand around your waist with her hand in your back pocket. Both of you smiling at whoever took the picture.

Photo 5: This one looks almost accidental. Manon is lying fully on top of you across a couch. Her back pressed against your chest, one arm flopped over her head, legs tangled with yours like she just collapsed there and never moved again.

You're half reclined under her, head tilted slightly to the side. Both of you look completely asleep. The room behind you is dim, a couple of friends blurred in the background.

The last slide is a video. Five seconds, maybe six.

Manon and Sophie are standing in front of the camera just messing around—dancing badly, bumping shoulders and laughing too loudly. The camera shakes because whoever is filming is laughing hysterically.

Behind them, slightly out of focus, you're standing with a few friends. A bottle of water in one hand while the fingers on your other hand are hooked loosely through Manon's belt loop.

Not gripping. Not pulling. Just there, like its the most natural thing in the world. Like you've done it a thousand times before.

Manon spins while laughing at something Sophie says and steps backwards without looking. She bumps lightly into you.

Instead of moving away, she stays there for half a second, shoulders relaxed against you, like she already knew you'd be there.

You never look back to see who it is, you just keep talking as the video then loops on repeat.

Top comments under the video:

chatter01: manon just casually lying on y/n like that ? 75k likes 2.3k replies chatter02: that’s the 'don’t wander off' hold and you cannot convince me otherwise 101.1k likes 7k replies chatter03: where do i apply to be part of this friend group 103k likes 7.9k replies chatter04: WHY IS EVERYONE FREAKING OUT, WHAT'D I MISS?!?! 55.3k likes 12.8k replies ↳ chatter05: last slide, bottom left 😭 95.3k likes ↳ chatter04: oh... OH MY GOD??? 91k likes chatter06: my emotional journey through this post:😃🤗🤨😱🫠💀 369.3k likes 87.1k replies

---

📹Clip Nine📹

(Rehearsal Livestream – Break Time Games) 6.6M Views

The livestream wasn’t supposed to turn into chaos. It was meant to be a simple break during rehearsal.

The camera is propped up against a water bottle at the edge of the practice room floor, angled wide enough to catch all of you sitting in a loose circle.

Dance mirrors line the walls. The bright overhead lights reflect off the polished floor. Towels, jackets, and water bottles are scattered everywhere.

Daniela had brought the Uno cards. Which, in hindsight, was the first mistake.

'You can’t stack a four on a four!' Yoonchae argues, leaning halfway across the circle.

'You absolutely can.' Lara insists, already laughing.

'You made that rule up!'

Sophia flips through the little instruction leaflet like she’s suddenly the official referee. 'Technically…'

Megan groans. 'Oh my god, just play.'

The game continues anyway.

The chat is racing by in the corner of the screen as fans watch the chaos unfold.

You’re doing surprisingly well. Until you’re not. Three turns later, your hand is full of cards again.

'Uh oh.' Lara sings.

You glare at her.

Manon, sitting cross-legged beside you, glances at your cards.

Her eyebrows lift slowly. Then she covers her mouth.

You immediately narrow your eyes. 'Don’t react like that.'

She shakes her head quickly, already smiling. 'I didn’t say anything.'

Two rounds later, Daniela slams her final card down. 'UNO!'

Sophia groans. Megan claps loudly.

Lara immediately points at you. 'Last place!'

You look down at your hand. Then up at the girls. Then back at the cards like they might suddenly rearrange themselves.

'You all set me up.' You mutter.

'No we didn’t!' Daniela protests through laughter.

'You absolutely did.'

Manon leans back on her hands, watching you with clear amusement.

'Punishment time.'

From somewhere behind the practice speakers, Megan drags out a crinkling plastic bag.

Your stomach drops instantly. 'No.'

'Oh, yes.' She says cheerfully.

You peer inside the bag. Then immediately close it again.

'No.'

'It’s the rule.' Lara reminds you.

Daniela is already clapping excitedly. 'Put it on! Put it on!'

The chat is flying now. You sigh like someone about to accept their fate.

'Oh my god, this is gonna get clipped.'

There’s a jump cut in the clip. When it resumes, the camera has been moved slightly closer. You stand in the middle of the rehearsal room. Inside an inflatable dinosaur costume.

Bright green. Round in the middle. Ridiculously oversized head attached above yours.

A small fan hums quietly as the suit inflates fully. The girls lose it instantly. Daniela drops sideways onto the floor laughing.

Yoonchae has both hands over her mouth. Sophia actually has to step away from the camera because she’s shaking so hard.

'You look amazing.' Lara manages.

You try to cross your arms. The tiny dinosaur arms do not cooperate.

'This is humiliating.'

'You agreed to the punishment.' Megan reminds you.

You try to walk. The costume waddles more than it walks. Every step makes the inflatable body bounce slightly.

Manon has gone very quiet again. Which is suspicious.

You turn toward her slowly. She’s staring at you. Not laughing. Just staring.

'You’re not allowed to enjoy this.' You warn.

She stands up. Walks over. Pokes the inflatable stomach. The suit squeaks softly under her finger. She does it again.

You close your eyes briefly. 'Manon.'

'It’s so squishy.' She says, clearly delighted.

She presses both hands against the round middle this time. The costume compresses slightly before puffing back out again. The room erupts with laughter again.

'You’re going to pop it!' Megan wheezes.

Manon ignores her. She squeezes the inflatable arm next. Then the tail.

You try to step backwards. The dinosaur feet make that… difficult.

'You’re harassing me.' You accuse.

'I’m appreciating the costume.'

She pokes the stomach again. You attempt to sit down in defeat. Which is a mistake.

Because the moment you sit, the oversized dinosaur head tilts forward completely.

Your vision disappears.

'I can’t see.' You announce immediately.

The girls start screaming.

'You look like a tipped-over balloon!' Daniela cries.

You try to lift the dinosaur head. The inflatable body wobbles instead.

Manon crouches in front of you. You can’t see her. But the chat definitely can.

Because she gently pushes the dinosaur head back up so your face is visible again through the little plastic window.

'There.' She says softly.

Then, because apparently she cannot help herself, she presses both hands against the inflatable belly again.

Your head falls back slightly as the costume squeaks. 'Stop touching it!'

'I like it.'

'You’ve touched it eight times!'

'Nine.' She corrects.

The girls are losing their minds now.

Megan grabs Sophia’s arm. 'Look at her!'

Manon doesn’t move her hands though. Instead she lightly leans forward and rests her chin against the round inflatable stomach like it’s a cushion.

You freeze. 'Manon.'

'Hm?'

'You’re making this worse.'

She smiles slowly. 'I think it’s making it better.'

The chat explodes. The clip cuts there.

Top comments under the video:

chatter01: WHY IS MANON PETTING Y/N LIKE A CAT 682k likes 22k replies chatter02: that is NOT normal bandmate behaviour 😭 214k likes 6.1k replies chatter03: they forgot they were live again 1.4M likes 103k replies chatter04: manon being awful touchy 101.3k likes 43k replies chatter05: awwwww y/n makes a cute dino 1M likes 654k replies

---

📹Clip Ten, Part One📹

(someone's in trouble) - 13.9M Views

The video starts with screaming.

Not angry screaming. Tour screaming.

Fans are packed tight against barricades outside the minibus, phones raised high. The bus windows are tinted, but not fully. With the right angle and the light on inside, you can see in quite clearly.

Someone zooms in. 'There—there they are!'

All of you are inside, still in makeup but sporting comfy wear. The bus hasn't moved yet as security are still trying to clear a path.

Through the glass, Manon is visible first.

And she does not look happy.

Her posture is rigid. Jaw tight, brows drawn down as her body is leaning forward as she stands, talking sharply toward Megan across the aisle.

The person filming sucks in a breath. 'Why does she look mad?'

The camera zooms closer.

Manon gestures toward the window. Once. Twice. Her hand cuts through the air in frustrated motions. Megan responds, looking confused, trying to see what she's pointing at.

You're beside Manon. Close. Your hand on her forearm. Not restraining. Grounding.

From the outside of the bus, though? It looks like tension.

Manon says something again — fast and intense. Her mouth moves in clipped syllables as she shakes her head hard.

You lean closer to her, saying something low near her ear.

She exhales sharply.

Fans outside start speculating in real time.

'Are they fighting?' 'Why is she yelling?' 'Is something wrong?'

The clip ends with Manon pressing her palm briefly to her forehead, clearly upset, before security finally clears the path and the bus pulls away.

Top comments under the video:

chatter01: why does manon look actually mad??? 202.1k likes 8.9k replies chatter02: am I the only one who thinks she was yelling at Megan? 489.3k likes 55.6k replies ↳ chatter03: please don’t start narratives from a 10 second clip. 559.4k likes chatter04: she looked stressed. like genuinely stressed 93.4k likes 7.1k replies chatter05: must be bad if y/n's tryna calm her down 21k likes 943 replies chatter06: someone tag that lipreader girl, we need her desperately 1.1M likes 874k replies

📹Clip Ten, Part Two📹

(rip my notifs, y'all asked for this) 21.8M Views

The screen is split in half.

On the left: the original tour bus clip. Grainy, tinted glass, fans screaming outside.

On the right: a girl in soft lighting, hair tied back with a neutral expression holding a small microphone.

Further detail in the caption reads: 'Okay, y'all really wanted to know what was being said in this clip. I think we misunderstood this.' 3.6M likes 241.8k replies

The video starts playing. She pauses immediately. 'First of all,' she says gently, 'I've done live event lip reading for a few years. I'm not perfect by any means, but I'm pretty confident here.'

She zooms in on Manon pointing toward the window. Replays it at 0.5 speed.

On screen text appears as she mouths it along with her: 'There's a guy shoving them.'

She pauses again. 'Notice she's not looking at Megan when she says this. She's looking outside.'

Replay.

Manon's jaw is tight. Gesture sharp.

Subtitle overlay: 'He was pushing people, including kids!'

The lip reader nods slightly. 'She's upset. But it's outward frustration. Not internal.'

The clip continues. Manon shakes her head.

Subtitle: 'Don't sign for him.'

The lip reader explains, 'She says 'don't sign for him' and then something like 'he's not even a fan.'

Replay.

Manon's mouth clearly forms: 'He's going to resell it.'

The lip reader slows it again, this time focusing on you.

'Y/N is talking here.' She says, circling your face lightly on screen.

She rewinds.

You lean in toward Manon, your hand on her forearm.

Subtitle appears: 'Security saw him.'

Replay.

You again: 'They caught him.'

The lip reader looks back at the camera. 'Y/N is calming her down.'

The original clip continues as Manon presses her palm to her forehead.

Lip reader pauses. 'She says—'

Replay.

'I don't want them getting hurt.'

There's a beat of silence. Even through the split screen, it hits.

The lip reader exhales softly. 'She's not mad at the girls. She's mad at the situation.'

She rewinds one last time to the moment your hand stays on her arm. 'She doesn't pull away from this. She leans into it.'

Replay shows Manon's shoulders relaxing slightly after you speak.

Subtitle; Y/N: 'They're okay.' Manon: 'Okay.'

The duet ends with the lip reader saying, 'Context matters. That's all.'

Top comments under the video:

chatter01: she was mad FOR the fans 98.6k likes 12k replies chatter02: can we talk about y/n calming her down though… 143.1k likes 45k replies ↳ chatter03: get your parasocial ass outta here 150k likes ↳ chatter02: let me live my delulu life in peace 167k likes ↳ chatter03: be so fr you don’t even know them 54k likes ↳ chatter02: let me have this bro 101k likes chatter04: this is why outside perspective can be so misleading 546k likes 132k replies chatter05: everyone owes manon an apology idc 999.8k likes 87k replies chatter06: CONTEXT MATTERS! 1M likes 45k replies

Your mom stopped stirring her tea. Your dad leaned back in his chair like the words had physically pushed him as your brothers stared in quiet shock.

'You’re young,' your mother said carefully. 'Why move when there are opportunities here.'

'There are opportunities everywhere.' You replied.

Your dad sighed. 'You have family here. Support here. Why go somewhere you know no one?'

You wanted to say I don’t know no one. You wanted to say Sophia. But you didn’t. Because at the time, Sophia wasn’t part of the plan.

She was already in LA, balancing idol schedules with the girls of Katseye, rehearsals, press, flights, choreography, and the kind of exhaustion that only came from chasing something that big. You hadn’t even told her about applying.

You wanted this to be yours. Not your parents’. Not your sister’s. Not something arranged.

Yours.

'It’s just a job,' your mother tried again. 'You could build a life here. You don’t need to leave.'

That was the thing. You did. Not because you hated home. Not because you were running from anything.

But because you’d always been someone’s little sister. Someone’s daughter. Someone who would just 'figure it out eventually.'

This job — junior graphic designer at a small but growing marketing company in LA — wasn’t glamorous. It wasn’t some huge agency. But it was real. It was competitive. It was something you earned.

And they chose you. That mattered.

'I want to try,' you said quietly. 'Just try.'

Your dad didn’t argue after that. But you remember the look he gave your mom. The look that said she’s too young. You didn’t know they called Sophia.

You didn’t know they had told her:

'She’s stubborn.' 'She won’t listen.' 'Can you keep an eye on her?' 'She doesn’t understand how hard it will be.'

You didn’t know any of it. All you knew was that two days after that dinner, your phone rang.

'Sophia?'

'I heard you’re moving to LA.' She said.

You blinked. 'Who told you?'

There was a beat of silence. A small one.

'Mom mentioned it.'

Mentioned. Right.

'I was going to tell you,' you said quickly. 'I just— I wanted to make sure it was real first.'

'It’s real?'

'Yes.'

Another pause.

Then, 'You should live with me.'

It came out firm. Immediate.

You laughed softly. 'What?'

'You should live with me,' she repeated. 'You don’t need to waste money on rent. I already share with Yoonchae. We can make space.'

You hesitated. 'I don’t want to intrude.'

'You wouldn’t.'

It wasn’t negotiable. It wasn’t even a suggestion. It was decided. And you felt… grateful.

Overwhelmingly grateful.

You thought: She believes in me. You thought: She wants me there. You didn’t know she felt responsible.

LA felt louder than you imagined. Bigger. Lonelier.

Your first week at the marketing company was equal parts exhilarating and terrifying. You were the youngest designer on the team. You worked on small brand campaigns — social media graphics, logo revisions, digital ads. Nothing flashy. But every time your design got approved, something inside you stood taller.

And the best part? You could work from home two or three days a week.

Which meant morning coffee in the apartment, late night design edits in your pyjamas and sometimes, when schedules aligned… Megan stopping by. But that part came later.

At first, it was just you adjusting to the quiet.

Sophia and Yoonchae would leave early for rehearsals with Katseye. You’d wake up to the faint smell of Sophia’s shampoo lingering in the hallway, the apartment quiet except for the low hum of the fridge and the distant city traffic outside.

A mug she’d forgotten to rinse would sit in the sink, her hoodie thrown over the back of the chair like she’d only stepped out for a moment. The place would feel small — but safe.

You told yourself you weren’t scared.

But some nights, when the time difference hit and your friends back home were asleep, and your parents’ messages felt distant and cautious, you wondered if they were right.

Maybe you were young. Maybe you were naive. Maybe this was reckless.

But then you’d open your laptop. See your name on a project. Hear your boss say, 'Great work, Y/N.'

And you’d breathe again. You were capable. You weren’t someone to be managed. You weren’t fragile.

At least, that’s what you believed.

It wasn’t until months later — long after you’d settled into LA, long after Megan became more than just Sophia’s bandmate who stopped by occasionally — that you found out the truth.

It slipped out in an argument. A small one.

Sophia saying, 'Do you think I don’t worry about you?'

And you saying, 'Why do you act like I can’t handle myself?'

And her responding, sharp but controlled, 'Because mom and dad called me before you even moved here.'

The words hit like cold water. 'They what?'

'They asked me to make sure you didn’t drown.'

You stared at her.

'I asked you to live with me so you wouldn’t struggle. So you’d have stability.'

Stability. Not belief. Not confidence. Responsibility.

You felt something twist in your chest. 'So this wasn’t because you trusted me,' you said quietly. 'It was because they didn’t.'

Sophia’s jaw tightened. 'That’s not fair.'

'Isn’t it?'

And in that moment — before Megan, before secrets, before silent treatment — something fragile cracked between you.

Because suddenly you weren’t the brave younger sister who chased independence. You were the liability. The one who needed watching. The one who couldn’t be trusted alone.

And that feeling — that quiet, simmering need to prove yourself — would later be the very thing that complicated everything.

Especially when falling in love with an idol who lived in your sister’s world. Especially when the person protecting you the most was the one you were keeping secrets from.

---

By the time it happened, it didn’t feel sudden. It felt inevitable.

Megan had always been around.

At first, she was just Sophia’s bandmate who came over sometimes — loud, charming, full of easy laughter. She’d flop onto the couch after rehearsal and complain about choreography while stealing snacks from the pantry like she lived there.

You didn’t expect to connect with her. But you did. It started small.

You complimented her jacket one afternoon — oversized denim with stitched patches down the sleeves.

'You like this?' She asked, sitting up straighter.

'I love it. The stitching detail is insane.'

Her eyes lit up. 'You noticed that?'

That was the first crack in the wall.

From there, it was fashion deep dives in the living room. Comparing saved Pinterest boards. Arguing over silhouettes. Teasing each other over bold choices neither of you were brave enough to wear yet.

Then it expanded.

You both loved the same Singaporean dish — Hainan chicken rice. The first time she found out, she looked at you like you’d just unlocked a secret level.

'No one else orders that.' She said.

'It’s elite.' You replied, offended on its behalf.

'Marry me.'

You laughed. You didn’t know how serious that sentence would feel later.

And then there were the artists. The same playlists. The same late-night songs. The same lyrics that meant something deeper than you ever explained.

The connection built quietly. Intentionally.

Until one night, when Sophia was still at rehearsal and Yoonchae had gone to bed early, you were both sitting too close on the couch.

The movie had long since stopped playing. You were talking about nothing and everything all at once.

'You know,' Megan said softly, 'I feel calmer here.'

'Here as in the apartment?'

She shook her head slightly. 'Here.' She repeated, tapping your knee gently.

The air shifted. You could hear your own breathing. You don’t remember who leaned in first. You just remember the warmth of her hand on your jaw.

And then her lips on yours. It wasn’t rushed. It wasn’t dramatic.

It was careful.

Like both of you knew this would change something.

When you pulled back, your heart was racing. 'This complicates things.' You whispered.

Megan exhaled a small laugh. 'Yeah.'

But neither of you stopped.

Months later, it was no longer new. It was real. You were already dating.

Secretly.

It felt like living two lives in one apartment.

In front of Sophia and Yoonchae, you were normal. Casual. Barely touching. But the glances lingered. The looks lasted a second too long.

And sometimes you slipped.

Like the afternoon you were working from home at the dining table. Megan had stopped by between schedules — claiming she’d forgotten something she definitely hadn’t.

You were both on the couch, her arm around your shoulders. You leaned into her without thinking. Her thumb traced lazy circles against your arm.

You were mid-laugh when the front door handle rattled.

Both of you froze.

'Sophia’s not supposed to be back for another hour.' You whispered.

Megan’s hand dropped instantly.

You both sprang apart like magnets reversed. The door opened. Sophia stepped in, tired but alert. She scanned the room.

'You’re home early.' You said, too quickly.

'I was tired and decided to just come home.'

Her eyes flicked between you. The space between you on the couch. The way Megan was sitting just slightly too upright.

Sophia didn’t say anything. But she didn’t look convinced either.

Another time, it was Yoonchae.

You and Megan were in the kitchen late at night, whispering and laughing while making instant noodles. Sophia was out.

You nudged Megan playfully with your hip. She retaliated by pulling you into her chest.

You were both smiling into each other’s shoulders when footsteps approached.

Yoonchae rounded the corner. You jumped back like you’d been electrocuted.

She blinked slowly. '…Are you two okay?'

'Yeah!' You both said at the exact same time.

She stared for a second longer. Then nodded. But she noticed. She always noticed.

And then there were the moments when the apartment was empty. When the secrecy melted. When you didn’t have to think about where your hands were.

On days you worked from home and Megan had a rare afternoon off, she’d come over quietly knowing Sophia was out. You’d lock the door behind her.

The apartment would feel smaller. Warmer.

She’d find you at your desk, leaning down to press a kiss to your temple.

'You’re cute when you’re focused.' She’d murmur.

'You’re distracting.' You’d reply.

She’d grin and spin your chair toward her. Kiss you properly. Slowly. The kind of kiss that didn’t rush but didn’t hesitate either.

You’d migrate to the couch eventually. Or your bedroom. Not wild. Not reckless. Just closeness.

Her head tucked under your chin. Your fingers tracing the line of her jaw. Her hand resting warm against your waist.

Sometimes you’d just lie there in silence. The world outside loud and complicated. But inside the apartment, it was just the two of you.

Safe.

'I hate hiding.' You admitted one afternoon, your fingers playing with the hem of her shirt.

Megan’s expression softened. 'I know.'

'I feel guilty.'

'I know.'

You swallowed. 'We should tell Sophia.'

She hesitated. Not because she was ashamed. But because she understood the weight.

'She’s protective,' Megan said carefully. 'Not just because you’re her sister. Because you’re here alone. Because this is all new.'

'I’m not fragile.'

'I know you’re not.'

She cupped your face gently. 'But she thinks it’s her job to protect you.'

'And what about you?' You asked.

A small smile curved her lips. 'I think it’s my job to love you.'

Your heart stuttered.

'And I don’t want to lose this before we even get to have it.'

That’s what kept you quiet. Not fear. Not shame. Just wanting something that was yours.

For once.

But the longer it stayed secret, the heavier it felt. And the more Sophia started watching. You didn’t notice it at first. The way her gaze lingered.

The way she clocked Megan’s excuses for coming over.

The way she’d pause in the doorway sometimes, like she was piecing together something she wasn’t ready to say out loud.

It wasn’t explosive. It wasn’t dramatic. It was quiet. And building. And neither of you realised how close you were to the moment it would finally crack open.

---

Sophia had texted earlier that afternoon.

Sophia: Out with friends tonight. Don’t wait up.

You hadn’t asked which friends.

You’d learned that lesson the hard way.

The first time you’d casually asked who she was meeting, she’d raised an eyebrow and said, 'Why, are you vetting them?'

So now you didn’t pry. You just replied with a thumbs up and went back to work.

Which is how you ended up later that night on the couch with Megan, two half-empty pizza boxes on the coffee table, a movie playing that neither of you were really watching.

The apartment felt relaxed. Safe.

You were tucked under Megan’s arm, legs thrown over her lap. Her fingers traced idle patterns against your knee while you absentmindedly played with the hem of her hoodie.

'Your taste in movies is questionable.' She murmured.

'You’re the one who picked this.'

'I picked it because you said you liked it.'

'I do like it.'

She snorted softly. 'You fell asleep last time.'

'That’s because you were talking.'

She pinched your thigh lightly. You squeaked, laughing.

It was easy like this. Natural. The world outside didn’t exist in these moments.

The conversation drifted, as it always did. From the movie to fashion trends to an upcoming campaign you were working on. Megan leaned forward to look at something on your laptop, her shoulder brushing yours.

You turned toward her. Too close. Neither of you moved away. Her eyes flicked to your lips.

You felt it — that shift. The one that always happened before she kissed you.

'You’re staring.' You whispered.

'Am I?'

'Yes.'

'Good.' Her hand slid up to your jaw.

The kiss started soft. Testing. Familiar. You melted into it instantly.

It deepened without you noticing — your fingers curling into her hoodie, her other hand finding your waist, pulling you closer. You shifted in her lap without thinking, knees pressing into the couch cushions on either side of her.

The movie kept playing. The pizza boxes sat forgotten.

Megan’s lipstick — a soft red she’d been teasing you about earlier — smeared slightly as her mouth moved against yours.

You didn’t care.

You didn’t hear the door at first. It was the subtle click of it shutting that snapped you out of it. Your heart dropped.

You pulled away too fast. Megan’s hand fell from your waist. The room felt too loud. Too quiet.

You both turned.

Sophia stood near the entrance. Still. Expression unreadable.

Her gaze moved slowly — from Megan sitting on the couch… to you straddling her lap… to the unmistakable red smear across your cheek.

Your stomach dropped. You scrambled off Megan like the couch had burned you.

'Soph—' your voice cracked. You cleared it. 'Sophia, I—'

She didn’t move. Didn’t blink. Her face was frighteningly calm.

Not confused. Not shocked. Just… blank.

Megan stood slowly. Carefully. Like she was approaching a wild animal. 'Sophia,' she started, measured and respectful. 'We were going to tell you—'

You shot her a look because that wasn’t entirely true.

Sophia’s eyes flicked to you at that. 'Were you?' She asked quietly.

Her voice was level. Too level.

You nodded quickly. 'Yes. I just— I didn’t know how.'

Silence. The kind that presses against your ears.

'I’m sorry,' you rushed. 'I should’ve told you sooner. I just didn’t want you to feel—'

'To feel what?' She asked.

You faltered.

Megan stepped in gently. 'We didn’t mean to hide it in a bad way.'

Sophia finally moved. She walked into the living room slowly, gaze sharp now. 'How long?' She asked.

Your throat felt dry. 'A few months.'

She nodded once. 'A few months.'

Still calm. Still terrifyingly controlled. 'And you live here.'

It wasn’t a question.

You swallowed. 'Yes.'

'And you,' she looked at Megan now, 'have been coming over here. To my apartment. For months.'

Megan didn’t flinch. 'Yes.'

'And neither of you thought to mention it.'

You stepped forward. 'I wanted to.'

'But you didn’t.'

'I didn’t want you to be upset.'

Sophia let out a small, humourless laugh. 'You didn’t want me to be upset.'

It was then you noticed her hands were clenched. White-knuckled at her sides.

'You didn’t think I deserved to know?' She asked.

'That’s not fair,' you said quickly. 'It’s not like we were trying to hurt you.'

'I didn’t say you were trying to hurt me.' Her voice sharpened for the first time. 'But you did.'

The word landed heavy. Hurt. You felt it like a physical thing.

'I’m not a child.' You said, more defensive than you meant to be.

'And I’m not your enemy.' She shot back.

The calm cracked. It wasn’t screaming. It wasn’t chaotic. It was worse.

'You moved across the world,' she continued, voice rising now. 'You live under my roof. I’m the one making sure you’re okay here. And you start dating someone in my group and don’t think I should know?'

Your chest tightened.

'I didn’t ask you to take care of me.' You said before you could stop yourself.

The second the words left your mouth, you regretted them. Sophia’s expression changed. That hit something deeper.

'No,' she said quietly. 'You didn’t.'

Silence again. Thick and heavy.

'You know what this means?' She asked.

You shook your head.

'It means if this goes wrong, I don’t just lose a group member. I lose my sister.'

Your breath caught.

Megan stepped forward slightly. 'I’m not going to hurt her.'

Sophia’s eyes snapped to her. 'You don’t get to promise that.'

The air felt electric now.

'You’re an idol,' Sophia continued. 'You have fans. You have schedules. You have expectations. If this gets out—'

'It won’t.' Megan said firmly.

'You don’t know that.'

Then Sophia looked at you. And for the first time, the anger softened into something else.

Fear.

'She’s here alone,' Sophia said, quieter now. 'She left everything behind. She doesn’t have anyone here but me.'

'I have people.' You whispered.

'You have co-workers.'

'I have you.'

'And what happens when I’m on tour?' She challenged. 'When I’m gone for weeks on end? What happens when something goes wrong?'

'I can handle myself.'

Her jaw tightened. 'That’s what you think.'

And suddenly you understood.

This wasn’t just about Megan. This was about every phone call from your parents. Every 'keep an eye on her.' Every reminder that you were far from home.

You stepped closer. 'I’m not fragile.'

'I know you’re not fragile,' she said, frustration bleeding through now. 'But you’re my responsibility.'

There it was. Responsibility. Not trust. Not equal.

Responsibility.

You felt the old sting from that earlier argument.

'I don’t want to be something you manage.' You said quietly.

Sophia’s composure finally cracked fully. 'I am not managing you,' she snapped. 'I am trying to protect you.'

'From what? Love?'

'From being hurt.'

Megan’s voice cut in softly but firmly. 'I love her.'

The room went still. Sophia’s eyes flicked between you both.

You felt exposed. Raw. Vulnerable.

Sophia inhaled slowly, like she was trying to steady herself. When she spoke again, her voice was controlled.

Cold.

'I need space.'

The temperature in the room dropped.

She turned. Walked down the hallway. Her bedroom door closed with a soft but final click.

No yelling. No slamming. Just silence. And somehow that felt worse than if she’d screamed.

You stood there, heart pounding as Megan reached for your hand.

You let her.

But the warmth didn’t reach the part of you that suddenly felt very, very alone. Because you knew this wasn’t over. This was just the beginning of the quiet.

---

For a long moment after Sophia’s door closed, neither you nor Megan moved.

The apartment felt different. Smaller. Like the walls had shifted closer.

Your heartbeat was still loud in your ears. Megan’s hand was still wrapped around yours. You didn’t pull away. But you didn’t look at her either.

'I didn’t mean for it to happen like that.' She said softly.

You swallowed. 'I know.'

Silence stretched.

'She was going to find out eventually.' Megan continued.

'I know.'

You finally looked up at her. There was guilt in her eyes — not regret about you, but regret about the damage.

You sat back down on the couch slowly.

The pizza boxes suddenly looked stupid. The paused movie screen glowed in the background like it was mocking you.

'Maybe we should’ve just told her sooner.' You whispered.

Megan sat beside you, careful now. Not touching too much. 'Probably.' She admitted.

You picked at a loose thread on the cushion.

'She thinks I can’t handle myself.'

Megan frowned. 'That’s not what this is.'

'It is. It always is.'

You hesitated. Then the thought that had been forming slipped out.

'Maybe… maybe we should give her space.'

Megan went still.

'I don’t mean break up,' you said quickly, looking at her. 'I don’t want that. I just— maybe you shouldn’t come around as much. At least for a little while.'

The words hurt to say.

Megan’s jaw tightened slightly. 'If that’s what you want.'

'It’s not what I want,' you corrected. 'It’s just… I don’t want to make this worse.'

Megan looked toward Sophia’s closed bedroom door. Then back at you.

'I’m not choosing between you,' she said quietly. 'I won’t.'

'You’re not.'

Her eyes softened. 'I love you. I’m not disappearing.'

Your chest ached. 'I know. I love you, too.'

She leaned forward, pressing her forehead gently to yours. The kiss she gave you wasn’t heated this time. It was grounding. Slow.

Almost apologetic.

When she left that night, it felt heavier than usual. The apartment door clicked shut behind her. And the silence settled in.

Sophia didn’t come out of her room until morning.

You were already up, pretending to focus on your laptop at the dining table.

You heard her door open. Your spine straightened automatically.

'Morning.' You said carefully.

No response.

She walked past you toward the kitchen.

You turned in your chair slightly. 'I made coffee.'

She poured her own. The distance was physical. Measured. She didn’t look at you once.

Your throat tightened. 'Sophia.' You tried.

She picked up her mug. 'I’m late.'

And then she left. The door shut. And you sat there staring at the empty hallway.

Your phone buzzed minutes later.

Megan: Is she okay?

You typed back.

You: She’s not talking to me

A pause.

Then:

Megan: I’ll keep an eye on her at rehearsal, see if anything improves

You stared at that message for a long time. Keep an eye on her. It felt strange being on the outside.

That night, Sophia came home late.

You were on the couch. You muted the TV when she walked in. 'Can we talk?'

She kicked off her shoes. 'Not tonight.'

It wasn’t angry. It was worse. It was tired. Her bedroom door closed again.

The next day she was polite to Yoonchae. Normal, even.

You heard them laughing in the kitchen while you were in your room on a work call.

It stung.

When you came out, the laughter stopped.

You tried again. 'Are you still mad?'

She grabbed her bag. 'I have practice.'

'Can you just tell me what you’re thinking?'

She paused at the door. Without turning around, she said, 'I’m thinking.'

Then she left, Yoonchae sending you a sympathetic look as she follows her. You texted Megan again.

You: She won’t even hold a conversation with me

Twenty minutes later.

Megan: She just got here. Barely said hi to anyone

Another message followed which came through later.

Megan: She messed up choreo twice. She never does that

Your stomach dropped. Is this my fault?

You: Is she talking to anyone now?

Megan: Not me, thats for sure Megan: Talking to everyone, only a little tho

You stared at the screen. It shouldn’t hurt that she was talking to someone else. But it did.

By day four, it became routine.

Sophia would leave early. Come home late. Talk to Yoonchae. Avoid you.

If you entered a room, she found a reason to leave it. If you asked a question, she answered with one word.

You tried to keep your voice steady. Tried not to beg. Tried not to cry in front of her.

At work, your designs started coming back with small corrections you normally wouldn’t make.

You were distracted. Your phone buzzed constantly.

Megan: We had vocal training today, she’s pushing herself hard

Megan: She didn’t eat much at lunch

Megan: She seems fine, just very quiet

Fine.

You hated that word.

You hated that you had to get updates about your own sister through your girlfriend.

You typed one night.

You: Do you think she hates me?

It took Megan longer to reply.

Megan: No Megan: She’s hurting

That somehow felt worse.

By the end of the week, the silence had weight. It pressed against your chest when you woke up. It followed you into your work calls. It sat beside you at dinner.

You missed her. Not just as your sister. But as your friend.

You found yourself staring at childhood photos on your phone at night.

Family birthdays. Beach trips. Her braiding your hair when you were younger.

You wondered if she regretted asking you to move in. You wondered if she saw you differently now.

Your phone buzzed again.

Megan: She asked if I was free to stay later for extra practice tonight

You stared at the message.

Extra practice meant staying away from the apartment longer.

You: She's avoiding coming home isn't she?

The three dots appeared. Disappeared. Appeared again.

Megan: Maybe

Your vision blurred slightly. You typed before you could overthink it.

You: I don’t want to lose her

The reply came almost instantly.

Megan: You won’t Megan: She loves you more than she’s angry

You wanted to believe that. But love didn’t stop the silence. And the silence was starting to feel permanent.

That night, you lay awake in your room, listening to the faint sounds of Sophia moving around in hers.

So close. And yet further away than she’d ever been.

You wondered how long you could survive like this. You wondered if giving her space had been the right decision. And you wondered when the quiet would finally break.

---

By the second week, exhaustion had settled into your bones. Not the kind that sleep fixes. The kind that comes from walking on emotional glass inside your own home.

You were at the dining table again, laptop open, fingers hovering over your trackpad. The apartment was quiet. Sophia had rehearsal later than usual, but she was home for the morning.

You were trying to focus. Trying to fix a banner layout for a skincare brand campaign.

You’d already revised it twice. Your phone buzzed with your manager’s name lighting up the screen.

You swallowed and answered. 'Hello?'

'Hey,' he said, voice neutral. 'Got a minute?'

'Of course.'

Sophia’s bedroom door opened down the hall. You didn’t notice.

'I went through the revised draft,' he continued. 'The typography’s still slightly off. And the colour grading on the product image — it’s not matching the brand palette.'

Your stomach tightened. 'I—I thought I corrected that.'

'I know you did,' he said, not unkindly. 'But it’s still not there. You’ve been solid these past few months. That’s why this is surprising.'

Solid. Past tense.

'I’m so sorry,' you said quickly. 'I’ll fix it.'

'I’d actually prefer if you came in today,' he added. 'Let’s go over it in person. I think you’re overthinking it.'

In person. You hadn’t been into the office in over a week.

'Yeah,' you said, forcing steadiness into your voice. 'I can do that.'

'Good. And hey,' he softened slightly. 'You’re good at this. Just refocus.'

'Okay.'

The call ended. You stared at your reflection faintly in the dark screen of your laptop.

You’re good at this. Then why does it feel like you’re not?

You pushed your chair back and stood, rubbing your temples. 'I’m heading into the office.' You called down the hallway.

There was a pause. Then a soft 'Okay' from Sophia’s room.

Just that. No question. No follow-up.

You grabbed your bag and left.

You didn’t see Sophia step quietly into the living room after the door closed. You didn’t see her glance at your laptop screen still open on the table. You didn’t hear the faint sigh she let out.

The apartment felt too still after you left.

Sophia stood there for a long moment.

You’re good at this. She’d heard the whole call.

The apology in your voice. The edge of panic. The way you rushed to take responsibility.

She knew you were good at your job. She’d seen the designs. Seen the pride in your face when a campaign went live. She knew this wasn’t incompetence.

This was guilt. And that realisation sat heavy.

A knock at the door pulled her out of her thoughts.

She frowned slightly. She wasn’t expecting anyone.

When she opened it, Megan stood there.

Hope flickered across Megan’s face for half a second — until she realised you weren’t behind Sophia.

'Hey,' Megan said carefully. 'Is she home?'

'No.'

Megan’s shoulders fell slightly.

'She went into the office.'

There was a beat. 'Oh.'

Silence hovered between them.

Sophia considered closing the door. She didn’t.

'Do you want to come in?' She asked, voice neutral.

Megan hesitated — then nodded. She stepped inside.

The apartment felt different without you there. Less warm. Less bright.

Megan stood awkwardly near the couch. 'I didn’t know she had to go in today.' She said.

'She made a mistake.' Sophia replied.

Megan blinked. 'She doesn’t make mistakes.'

'She has lately.'

The implication hung in the air. Megan’s jaw tightened slightly. 'She’s not sleeping properly, you know,' Megan said quietly. 'She thinks you hate her.'

Sophia’s expression didn’t change. 'I don’t hate her.'

'You’re not even talking to her.'

Sophia crossed her arms. 'She hid something important from me.'

Megan inhaled slowly. 'And I’m sorry for that.'

Sophia looked at her then. Really looked at her. Megan didn’t look defensive. She looked tired.

'I should’ve told you,' Megan continued. 'From the beginning. I just… I didn’t want to risk you shutting it down before we even knew what it was.'

'And what is it?' Sophia asked, voice steady.

Megan didn’t hesitate. 'I love her.'

The words didn’t echo this time. They landed. Firm.

Sophia’s posture stiffened slightly.

'I would never hurt her,' Megan added. 'Not intentionally. Not carelessly. Not for convenience.'

'You can’t promise that.' Sophia said quietly.

'No,' Megan agreed. 'I can’t promise she’ll never feel pain. That’s not how love works. But I can promise I won’t treat her like she’s disposable.'

Sophia’s eyes flickered. 'She’s not built for this world,' Sophia said, frustration creeping in. 'Not the idol world. The scrutiny. The rumours.'

'She’s not in the idol world,' Megan replied gently. 'She’s in hers.'

'That doesn’t stop the spillover.'

Megan stepped closer — not aggressive, just earnest. 'You think I don’t know that?' She asked softly. 'You think I’d risk her stability? She worked so hard to get here. She’s proud of her job. She’s independent. She doesn’t lean on me financially. She doesn’t need me to survive.'

Sophia’s jaw tightened.

'She doesn’t need protecting from everything.'

There it was. The shift.

'She’s her own person,' Megan continued. 'Not something fragile you have to guard 24/7.'

Sophia’s gaze sharpened. 'You don’t get to tell me how to be her sister.'

'I’m not,' Megan said quickly. 'I’m telling you that she’s hurting.'

Silence.

'She thinks you don’t believe in her.'

That one hit. Sophia didn’t react outwardly. But something flickered behind her eyes.

'She heard you say you’re responsible for her,' Megan added softly. 'Not that you trust her.'

Sophia looked away. 'She’s always been stubborn.' Sophia muttered.

'She’s always been capable.' Megan countered.

Another quiet stretch. Then Megan spoke again, voice lower now. 'I don’t want to come between you two. I never did. But pushing her away isn’t protecting her. It’s proving her worst fear right.'

'And what’s that?'

'That no one sees her as someone who can stand on her own.'

The room went still.

Megan exhaled slowly. 'I love her,' she said one last time. 'And I wish you’d trust her enough to let her choose who she loves.'

She didn’t wait for a response. She walked toward the door. Paused.

'I’m not giving up on her,' she added. 'But I don’t want to lose you either.'

Then she left. The door closed quietly. Sophia stood alone in the living room.

The apartment felt heavier than it had all week. Her gaze drifted to your laptop still open on the table. To the draft you’d been obsessing over. To the faint indentation on the couch where you usually sat.

She replayed the sound of your voice on the phone. I’ll fix it.

She replayed Megan’s words. She’s hurting. For the first time since that night, the anger felt less sharp. And the guilt felt louder.

---

The apartment smells like tamarind and simmering tomatoes by the time the sun starts to dip behind the LA skyline.

You’d stopped by the little Filipino market on your way home—grabbing fresh kangkong, long beans, radish, pork ribs. It felt almost instinctive, your hands moving without thinking. Sinigang had always been comfort in a bowl. Stormy days back home. Long work nights. Fights that needed softening.

You’re not even sure if this will fix anything. But it’s a start.

The pot bubbles gently on the stove while you sit at the dining table, laptop open, stylus tapping against your tablet. Your manager’s words from earlier still sit heavy in your chest. He hadn’t yelled—but he’d wanted to 'talk in person.' About small inconsistencies. About double-checking exports. About focus.

You’re good at your job. You know you are. But lately your head’s been everywhere.

You tweak the colour grading on a campaign draft, adjust kerning on a headline, rework a layout grid. The repetitive motions ground you. You want to prove—at least to yourself—that you’re not some lost little sister tagging along in someone else’s life.

The front door clicks open. Your shoulders tense automatically.

You don’t look up at first. You listen.

Shoes being slipped off. A bag placed down. The faint rustle of fabric as Sophia shrugs out of her jacket.

'Hey,' you say softly, still facing your screen. 'You’re back.'

A pause.

'Yeah.'

One word.

You swallow. 'I made sinigang.'

Another pause, longer this time. You can practically feel her noticing the smell, recognising it.

'Okay.'

Still flat.

You turn slightly in your chair. She’s standing by the kitchen counter, scrolling on her phone. Face unreadable. Expression carefully blank.

'I thought maybe we could eat together,' you try. 'We haven’t really—'

'I’m not that hungry.'

It’s not even mean. It’s worse than that. It’s distant. Like you’re a coworker she doesn’t particularly care about.

Your chest tightens. 'Soph.'

She hums faintly in acknowledgment but doesn’t look up.

You close your laptop slowly. 'I can’t keep doing this.'

No response.

'I get that you’re upset. I get that I should’ve told you. I know that. But this—this silent treatment thing? It’s been over a week.'

Her thumb scrolls again. 'I’m busy,' she says. 'We’ve had rehearsals.'

You let out a shaky laugh. 'Don’t. Don’t pretend this is about rehearsals.'

That makes her look up. Finally. Her eyes aren’t angry. They’re guarded.

'I just don’t have anything to say.' She replies coolly.

Something inside you snaps. 'Then listen.'

The words come out louder than you expect. The frustration you’ve been swallowing for days rises fast and hot.

'I never wanted to be a burden to you.'

Her expression flickers—but you’re already going.

'I didn’t ask you to take me in because I couldn’t handle myself. I didn’t move here to hide behind you. I moved here because I wanted to build something for myself. I wanted to prove that I can do this.'

Your voice shakes, but you don’t stop.

'Do you know how it felt finding out mom and dad called you? That they asked you to ‘keep an eye on me’ like I’m twelve?'

Sophia’s jaw tightens slightly.

'I didn’t know they did that,' you say, softer now but more cutting. 'I thought you just… believed in me. That you offered because you wanted me here.'

'I do want you here.' She says quickly.

'Well it doesn’t feel like that.'

The words hang in the air.

You stand up now, pacing once across the small living room. 'I work hard, Soph. I mess up sometimes, sure, but I’m good at what I do. I’m not lost. I’m not clueless. And Megan—'

Her name makes Sophia stiffen.

'—Megan doesn’t change that. I didn’t start dating her because I needed protection or a safety net. I love her.'

There it is. Out in the open. Your throat burns.

'And I didn’t tell you because I was scared you’d react exactly like this. Like I betrayed you. Like I can’t make my own decisions.'

Silence.

You wipe at your face, frustrated tears escaping.

'Sometimes I think maybe I should just move out. If I’m going to disappoint you anyway, maybe I should at least be fully independent. Pay my own rent somewhere else. So you don’t feel responsible for me anymore.'

That does it. Sophia’s phone drops onto the counter with a quiet clack. 'Don’t.'

Her voice is different now. Not cold. Not distant. Cracked.

'You think I feel responsible because I don’t believe in you?'

You hesitate. 'Then what is it?' You ask.

She exhales slowly, rubbing her temples.

'When mom called me,' she starts, voice low, 'she sounded so scared. She said you were stubborn, that you wouldn’t listen, that you were throwing away ‘safe’ options. She asked me to make sure you didn’t fail.'

Your stomach twists.

'I hated that,' she continues. 'I hated that they didn’t trust you. But I also hated that you were so far away from them. From everything familiar. I know what LA is like. I know how lonely it can get.'

She finally looks at you fully.

'You don’t need protecting,' she admits quietly. 'I know that. You’re capable. You’ve always been capable.'

Your breath catches.

'But I feel like if something goes wrong, it’s on me. If you get hurt, it’s on me. If your heart gets broken—'

Her voice wavers slightly there.

'I can’t be there for you the way I should be,' she says. 'I’m at rehearsals all day. I’m travelling. I’m barely home. So yeah, when I found out you were dating someone, someone in my group, someone whose like a sister to me, it felt like I lost control of the only thing I thought I could still manage.'

It’s not anger. It’s fear.

You step closer slowly. 'I didn’t want to hurt you.' You whisper.

'I know.'

'And I didn’t tell you because I was scared you’d stop seeing me as… me. And just see me as your little sister who can’t make her own choices.'

Sophia shakes her head. 'I’ve never seen you like that.'

'Then why did it feel like you didn’t trust me?'

She swallows. 'Because I was scared. Not because I don’t trust you.'

The distinction settles between you. You both stand there for a moment, years of shared childhood and unspoken expectations floating in the space.

'I love her,' you say again, softer. 'And she loves me. She told you that, didn’t she?'

Sophia’s eyes flicker. 'She did.'

'And?'

'She was annoyingly sincere.' She mutters.

You almost laugh through your tears. 'I just… I need you to trust me,' you say. 'Not because I’m your sister. But because I’m a person.'

Sophia steps forward then and pulls you into a hug. It’s tight. Fierce. Familiar.

'You’re not a burden,' she murmurs into your hair. 'You never have been. I asked you to live here because I wanted you here. Not because mom told me to babysit.'

You let out a shaky breath against her shoulder.

'I don’t want you to move out,' she adds quietly. 'I just need time to adjust. To not feel like I’m failing at being your ate.'

'You’re not failing.' You whisper back.

She pulls away slightly, studying your face.

'And for the record,' she says, a tiny hint of her usual tone returning, 'if Megan hurts you, I’m still allowed to be dramatic about it.'

You sniff. 'That's fair.'

A beat.

'You’re not going to ignore me again, right?' You ask cautiously.

She winces. '…I might need a day to process big things. But no more week-long silent treatments.'

'Good,' you mutter. 'Because I almost moved out over that.'

She narrows her eyes slightly. 'You’re not going anywhere.'

A small, genuine smile finally spreads between you.

'Come eat,' you say softly. 'Before the sinigang gets cold.'

She nods. And for the first time in days, the apartment feels like home again.

---

The sinigang tastes exactly how it always has.

Warm. Sour. Familiar.

You and Sophia sit across from each other at the small dining table, steam rising between you like something symbolic. For a while, neither of you speaks. You just eat. Let the comfort settle into your bones.

It’s Sophia who breaks the silence. 'How was your meeting?'

You blink, surprised she’s asking.

'It was… fine,' you say carefully. 'He just wanted to go over a campaign draft I exported wrong. I flattened a layer I shouldn’t have. The text spacing shifted in the final print file.'

Sophia nods slowly, listening properly.

'He didn’t yell. But he did that disappointed corporate voice.'

She winces. 'That’s worse.'

'Yeah.'

You push a piece of radish around your bowl. 'I know I’m good at my job. But lately I feel like I’m dropping small things. Like I’m distracted.'

'Because of me?' She asks quietly.

'Because of everything.'

You look up at her. 'Because I hate fighting with you. Because I’m trying to prove I deserve to be here. Because I’m trying to be a good girlfriend and a good sister and good at work all at the same time.'

Sophia exhales slowly. 'You don’t have to be perfect at all of it.'

'That’s easy for you to say. You literally train for like, ten hours a day.'

She lets out a soft huff of a laugh. 'Ten hours a day is exactly why I don’t get to mess up either.'

You pause.

'Megan told me you’ve been overworking.' You say carefully.

Her eyes flick up. 'She did?'

'She said you’ve been staying late after rehearsals. Running parts over and over. Not taking proper breaks.'

Sophia rolls her eyes slightly. 'She worries too much.'

'She cares about you.'

A beat.

'She cares about you a lot.' Sophia corrects gently.

You soften at that. 'She does.'

'And you?' Sophia asks.

'I love her, she gets me.'

It’s steadier now. Less defiant. Just truth.

Sophia studies you for a moment, then nods. 'You look different when you talk about her.'

'Different how?'

'Happier.' She admits.

The word sits heavy—in a good way.

You reach across the table, nudging her foot with yours. 'You don’t have to carry everything alone either, you know,' you say quietly. 'You’re allowed to lean on me too.'

She scoffs lightly. 'You already make sinigang when I’m emotionally unstable. That’s enough.'

You smile. 'I mean it. We moved here together in a way. Just… different paths.'

Sophia looks around the apartment—the mismatched chairs, the little wall prints you designed, the shoes by the door.

'Yeah,' she murmurs. 'We did.'

And somewhere in that small kitchen, between sour broth and quiet honesty, you both realise something simple, you’re stronger together than apart.

---

The next morning, you’re standing outside their rehearsal building feeling wildly out of place.

It took a lot of convincing.

'Ate, please,' you’d said. 'I just want to see where you work. I promise I won’t distract anyone.'

'You will absolutely distract someone.' She’d muttered.

'Me?'

'Yes. Specifically one someone.'

You’d pretended not to hear that. But eventually, after enough pleading and one dramatic, 'I’ll buy you coffee for a week,' she relented.

Now you’re here.

Sophia walks beside you with her cap pulled low. Even in casual clothes she carries idol energy—composed, controlled.

You? You’re just in jeans and a loose sweater, trying not to stare at everything.

When you enter the practice room, the music cuts off. Yoonchae is the first to notice. 'Oh!' she says brightly. 'You’re here!'

You smile immediately. 'Hi.'

She rushes over and hugs you without hesitation. Warm. Familiar.

'Finally,' she whispers teasingly. 'I was starting to think you both were never going to make up.'

Sophia groans quietly.

Manon strolls over next, graceful as ever. 'So this is the famous sister.'

'Manon.' Sophia warns.

'What?' She grins. 'We’ve heard about her for months.'

You glance at Sophia. 'You talk about me?'

'Unfortunately,' Manon says before Sophia can answer. 'All the time.'

Then— You feel her before you see her.

Megan.

She’s standing near the mirror wall, frozen mid-step, eyes locked on you like she’s forgotten how to breathe.

The air shifts. You don’t run to her. You don’t kiss her. You just walk over calmly. And when you reach her, you open your arms.

She hugs you immediately. It’s tight. Too tight for just friends—but restrained enough to pass.

Her chin rests briefly on your shoulder. You feel the small exhale she lets out.

'I missed you.' She murmurs quietly.

'I saw you yesterday.' You whisper back.

'Still.'

You pull away slightly, smiling at her properly now. She looks lighter. Like something’s unclenched.

Sophia watches from across the room. Not scowling. Just observing.

Manon, of course, notices everything. She leans casually against the wall beside Sophia. 'You should lighten up.'

Sophia side-eyes her. 'I’m fine.'

'You look like you’re supervising a business merger.'

Sophia exhales.

Manon nods subtly toward you and Megan. 'Look at her.'

Sophia does.

You’re laughing at something Megan whispered, hand briefly brushing against hers before you both remember where you are. Your entire face is open in a way it hasn’t been all week.

'She’s happy.' Manon says gently.

Sophia’s jaw softens.

'And you,' Manon continues, 'love her more than you love being right.'

Sophia snorts faintly despite herself.

Manon nudges her shoulder. 'You don’t have to approve of everything instantly. But you should be happy she found someone who looks at her like that.'

Across the room, Megan glances at you like you’re the only person there.

Sophia notices. Her expression shifts—something easing. 'I just don’t want her to get hurt.' She admits quietly.

Manon smiles softly. 'Then trust that she's strong enough not to break.'

Sophia looks at you again. At the way you’re standing on your own. Comfortable. Confident. Not hiding. Not small.

After a moment, she sighs.

'Fine,' she mutters. 'But if they start making out in here, I’m banning her from rehearsals.'

Manon laughs. 'That’s the spirit.'

Across the room, Megan catches Sophia’s eye. There’s a pause. Then—carefully—Sophia gives her a small nod.

Not full approval. But not rejection either.

Megan’s shoulders relax almost instantly. You notice.

And when you look at your sister, she doesn’t look away this time.

Maybe this is what growth feels like. Not perfect. Not instant. But moving forward. Together.

---

The rehearsal space is buzzing with energy, but you’re only there for a short while. Ten minutes into the warm-up music, your phone buzzes with a notification from your work email. You groan softly, already imagining your client’s perfectly aligned bullet points and color palettes waiting for you.

Sophia, mid-stretch, glances at you and raises an eyebrow. 'Already leaving?'

'Yeah,' you reply, shrugging. 'Can’t leave work hanging.' You pause, smirking, then tease gently, 'Besides, I don’t want to watch you sweat profusely… I mean, Megan maybe... I — uh, but—' Your words falter, cheeks heating as you realise how ridiculous that sounds. You laugh, shaking your head. 'N-never mind. Too soon.'

Sophia just stares quietly, not able to get used to what will soon be the new normal, though within a second there’s a faint twitch of amusement at the corner of her lips.

'Bye,' you call over your shoulder, grabbing your bag. 'Don’t work too hard!'

The drive to work is quiet, the city light spilling across your dashboard. You find yourself thinking about Megan and Sophia, about how delicate this balance is, about how much you’ve both already grown just in the past week.

By the time you get home later that night, the evening has settled in. The lights are warm in the apartment, casting long, cosy shadows across the living room.

Megan is already there, settling onto the couch with her legs tucked beneath her, a takeout container open on the coffee table. Sophia and Yoonchae are laughing quietly in the kitchen as they finish putting together plates.

'Finally!' Yoonchae says, scooping some food onto a plate. 'We were starving!'

You and Megan share a glance, smiling as you make your way to the couch. She scoots over, sliding close enough that your shoulders brush. You lean into her naturally, the familiar weight of her presence pressing against your side. Megan rests her head lightly against your shoulder, and you can’t help but drape an arm around her back.

Sophia’s voice cuts across the quiet hum of domesticity. 'Knock it off.' She says flatly.

You freeze, unsure what she means.

Her eyes flick toward you, then Megan, then the way you’re leaning against each other on the couch. Her jaw tightens slightly, and then she gestures with her hand, finally clarifying. 'That. You. Both of you. I can feel it from across the room. Just… tone it down.'

You blink, and then laugh softly. 'Ohhh. Right. Got it, Ate.'

You give Megan a small, teasing squeeze, careful not to overdo it. 'No more public displays for a while.' You whisper.

Megan smirks, pressing a light kiss to the top of your head. 'We can behave.'

You glance at Sophia, who’s watching you both with her arms crossed, and nod. 'I promise. No kissing around you if I can help it.'

The rest of the evening passes in comfortable, domestic rhythm. Plates clink softly. Megan feeds you a bite of sinigang with a grin, and you playfully smack her hand away. Yoonchae giggles, Sophia shakes her head, and Megan presses her lips to your temple in a brief, quiet gesture of affection.

At one point, you find yourself tucked against Megan, the blankets from the couch piled around your legs. Sophia and Yoonchae are chatting quietly at the kitchen counter, and you can hear the faint sizzle of a pan as Megan helps plate a second round of food. The apartment feels alive with warmth and quiet laughter, a home in the truest sense.

You glance at Megan, who catches your eyes and smiles softly. You reach over, interlacing your fingers with hers, just holding that simple connection.

'You know,' Megan murmurs, resting her forehead briefly against yours, 'I like this. Us, here. Just… quiet, together.'

You nod, smiling, pressing a soft kiss to the top of her hand. 'Me too. I’ve missed this—just being… us.'

Sophia’s voice floats from the counter again, teasing lightly but not sharply, 'Just make sure she doesn’t float away with all the blankets.'

You laugh, tugging Megan a little closer. 'Don’t worry. I’ve got her right here.'

And for the first time in what feels like forever, everything settles. The apartment, the family, the girl you love and the sister who cares fiercely—it all fits. You’re not hiding anymore. You’re not running.

You just are. And somehow, that’s enough.

She was chalking on the pavement outside her house—messy suns and stick figures and something that might’ve been a dog. You stood there for a full minute just watching before she looked up.

'…Do you wanna help?' She asked.

You shrugged, walked over, and grabbed a piece of chalk like you’d been doing it your whole life. That was it. From then on, you were everywhere together.

School was the same.

Same classes. Same lunch table. Same whispered conversations when you were supposed to be listening. Daniela was always a little louder, a little brighter—she’d answer questions with confidence even when she was wrong. You were quieter, more observant, but you stayed right beside her like orbit.

If she laughed, you smiled. If you got in trouble, she defended you. If she got in trouble, you were usually the reason.

By the time you hit middle school, Daniela had found dance. You hadn’t meant to follow her into it—it just sort of… happened.

'She’s coming too.' Daniela had told the instructor on your behalf, already dragging you into the studio.

You remember standing in front of the mirror, arms awkward at your sides, watching Daniela pick up choreography like she’d been born knowing it.

'Five, six, seven, eight—'

You missed the first step. And the second. And… most of the rest. Daniela didn’t laugh. Not once.

'Okay, wait—no, you’ve got it,' she insisted, moving behind you, gently adjusting your arms. 'It’s just like—feel the rhythm, don’t think about it so much.'

'That’s the problem,' you muttered. 'I am thinking about it.'

'Then don’t.'

'Wow,' you deadpanned. 'Revolutionary.'

She grinned, completely unhelpful. 'Again.'

You tried again. It was still bad.

She kept trying to help anyway—counting for you, demonstrating slower, grabbing your hands to guide you through the motions. You stepped on her foot once. Elbowed her the second time.

'Sorry.'

'It’s fine!'

It wasn’t fine. You both knew it. Eventually, you ended up sitting against the mirrored wall, watching her instead.

And honestly? You didn’t mind. Because Daniela, when she danced, was… something else. Effortless. Bright. Like the music lived inside her instead of around her. You’d sit there, knees pulled to your chest, pretending you weren’t staring too long.

High school changed things. Not all at once—just slowly, quietly. Daniela got better. Then really good. Then good enough that people started noticing.

She joined more classes. More performances. Talked about auditions, opportunities, things that felt bigger than your street, bigger than your city.

You stayed where you were. Not stuck—just… uncertain.

While everyone else started figuring things out—college plans, career paths, dreams they could actually name—you found yourself staring at forms, blank spaces waiting to be filled, and feeling absolutely nothing.

'What do you want to do?' Daniela asked you once, sprawled across your bedroom floor, homework abandoned between you.

You stared at the ceiling. 'I don’t know.'

'You don’t know at all?'

'No.'

She rolled onto her side, propping her head up. 'Okay, but like… if you could do anything?'

'I don’t even know how to answer that.'

There was no judgement in her expression. Just concern. Always that soft, steady concern when it came to you.

'You’ll figure it out.' She said eventually.

You wished you believed her.

Your parents were the ones who brought it up. The military. It wasn’t dramatic. It wasn’t forced. Just… mentioned, one evening over dinner like it was another option on a list you didn’t know how to write.

'It gives structure,' your dad said. 'Direction.'

Your mom nodded. 'Opportunities too. Education, travel.'

You didn’t say much at first. But later that night, you looked it up. Then again the next day. And the day after that.

Something about it… clicked. Not in a loud, passionate way—but in a quiet, grounding one. Like a path you could actually see, even if you didn’t fully understand it yet.

For the first time in a while, you weren’t staring at a blank space.

You mentioned it to Daniela a week later. Casually. Or at least, you tried to make it sound casual.

'I’ve been looking into something.' You said, sitting cross-legged on her bedroom floor while she stretched.

'Oh yeah?' She asked. 'What?'

'…The military.'

She froze. Actually froze mid-stretch, like someone had pressed pause on her.

'What?'

'The military.' You repeated, a little more quietly now.

Daniela slowly straightened, staring at you like you’d just said something completely ridiculous. 'You’re joking.'

'I’m not.'

'Why would you—' She stopped, running a hand through her hair. 'Why would you want to do that?'

You shrugged, even though your chest felt tight. 'I don’t know. It just—makes sense.'

'Makes sense?' She echoed. 'How does that make sense?'

'I need something, Dani.'

Her expression shifted at that. Softened. But not in agreement.

'In the military?' She pressed. 'There are other things. College, training programs, literally anything else—'

'I’ve looked,' you cut in, not harsh, just firm. 'Nothing else… fits.'

She shook her head, pacing now. 'It’s dangerous.'

'I know.'

'You could get hurt.'

'I know.'

'You could—' Her voice faltered. 'You might not come back.'

That one sat heavier. You didn’t respond immediately.

'I’d be trained,' you said eventually. 'I wouldn’t just be thrown into something.'

'That doesn’t make it okay.'

'It makes it something,' you replied. 'Which is more than I have right now.'

Silence stretched between you. Daniela looked at you like she wanted to argue more—but didn’t know how to reach you.

'I don’t like it.' She said finally.

'I know.'

You talked about it a few more times after that. Each time, Daniela pushed back. Not angrily—just… desperately. Like if she found the right argument, the right angle, she could change your mind.

She never did.

And somewhere in the middle of all that, there was something else you didn’t talk about. The way you looked at her sometimes. The way your chest tightened when she laughed too close to someone else.

The way you went quiet when she mentioned her boyfriend—casual, offhand comments that you pretended didn’t land harder than they should. You buried it deep.

Because it didn’t matter. Because she was happy. Because you were leaving anyway.

The night before you left, you asked her to come over. She didn’t hesitate. Of course she didn’t. She sat on your bed, knees pulled in slightly, looking around your room like it already felt different.

Like you were already gone.

'So…' she started, trying for lightness and failing. 'This is really happening.'

'Yeah.'

'Tomorrow?'

'Early.'

She nodded, pressing her lips together. There was so much unsaid in the room it almost felt crowded.

'I still don’t get it,' she admitted quietly. 'Why this. Why that.'

You sat beside her, hands clasped loosely between your knees. 'I need to feel like I’m going somewhere,' you said. 'Like I belong... like I’m not just… stuck.'

'You’re not stuck.'

'It feels like it.'

She turned to you then, eyes searching. 'You could stay. We could figure it out together.'

The we almost broke you. You looked down instead.

'I think I need to do this on my own.'

She went quiet.

'…And what about me?' She asked, softer now.

That hurt more than anything else she’d said.

'You’ll be okay,' you answered, even though it felt like a lie. 'You always are.'

'That’s not the point.'

'I know.'

'Then what is the point?' She pressed, voice wavering now. 'Because right now it just feels like you’re leaving and I don’t get a say in it.'

'You don’t.' You said, before you could stop yourself.

The words hung there. Sharp. Final.

You exhaled, softer this time. 'I’m sorry.'

Daniela blinked rapidly, looking away. 'Yeah. Me too.'

Silence settled again. Heavy. Uncomfortable. Familiar.

'I’m gonna miss you.' You said eventually.

She let out a quiet, almost disbelieving laugh. 'Yeah?'

You smiled faintly. Then, after a moment— 'I’ll write.'

She looked back at you. 'You better.'

'I mean it.'

'So do I.'

Another pause.

'…You’ll call too?' She asked.

'If and when I can.'

She nodded, like she was committing that to memory. 'Okay.'

When she stood to leave, neither of you moved right away. Like if you just… stayed still long enough, maybe time would do the same. But it didn’t. It never does.

Daniela stepped closer first and hugged you. Tight. You hesitated for half a second—then hugged her back just as tightly.

It wasn’t dramatic. No big declarations. No confessions. Just something quiet and aching and unfinished.

'Be safe.' She murmured against your shoulder.

'I will.'

'Promise me.'

'…I promise.'

She pulled back, just enough to look at you. Like she was trying to memorise your face. Then she nodded once, stepped away, and left.

The next morning, you were gone. And everything after that—letters, distance, six years of becoming someone new—started there.

---

Time doesn’t pass all at once. It comes in fragments. In things you hold onto. In things you don’t get to finish.

The first few weeks are the hardest. Everything is loud. Structured. Demanding in a way nothing has ever been before. There’s no space to drift, no room to hesitate. Every second is accounted for. Every mistake is noticed.

It’s exactly what you thought you needed. It’s also… a lot.

You don’t call Daniela right away. Not because you don’t want to—but because you don’t know how to explain any of it yet.

How do you put this into words? How do you tell her that you’re exhausted in a way that sleep doesn’t fix, that your body aches constantly, that your mind is trying to keep up with something that doesn’t slow down?

So instead, you write.

Letter #1 (unsent)

Dani, I don’t know if I made the right choice. Everyone here seems like they’ve wanted this forever. Like they belong. I feel like I’m pretending and no one’s called me out on it yet. I keep thinking about your room. How quiet it was. How easy everything felt there. I miss that. I miss you. I haven’t sent this because I don’t want you to worry. Which is stupid, because you’d probably say I should’ve just called. You’d be right. I just don’t know what I’d say out loud. — Y/N

You fold it. Keep it. It never gets sent.

The first time you do call her, it’s rushed. You’re standing outside, the air sharp, your time limited.

The phone rings once. Twice.

'Hello?'

Her voice hits you like something familiar you didn’t realise you were starving for.

'Hey.'

There’s a pause.

'Oh my god—hi.' It comes out breathless. Relieved. 'Are you okay?'

'Yeah. Yeah, I’m—' You glance over your shoulder. 'I’m good.'

'You sound tired.'

'I am tired.'

She laughs softly at that, like it’s expected. 'Yeah… I figured.'

There’s so much she wants to ask—you can hear it in the way she hesitates.

'So… what’s it like?' She asks instead.

You open your mouth. Close it again.

'It’s… a lot.' You settle on.

'Good a lot or bad a lot?'

'…Both.'

'Yeah,' she murmurs. 'That sounds like you.'

You smile a little at that. There’s comfort in being known like that. Even from miles away.

'I’ve been dancing more,' she adds quickly, like she wants to fill the space. 'Like, a lot more. I’m thinking about auditioning for something bigger.'

'Yeah?'

'Yeah. It’s stupid, probably, but—'

'It’s not stupid.'

She goes quiet for a second.

'…You always say that.'

'Because it’s true.'

Another pause. Then— 'Hey, time!'

A voice calls out sharply from somewhere behind you. Your chest tightens instantly.

'I have to go.' You say, too quickly.

'Wait—already?'

'Yeah, I—sorry.'

'No, it’s okay, I just—'

'I’ll call again.' You promise, even though you don’t know when that’ll be.

'…Okay,' she says, softer now. 'Be safe, yeah?'

'Always.'

The line clicks. Too soon.

That becomes a pattern. Calls that start warm and end abruptly. Conversations cut in half. Things left unsaid because there’s never quite enough time.

Months pass. Then a year. Then more.

You write more letters than you send. Some are short. Some ramble. Some don’t make sense even to you. You keep all of them. Tucked away. Folded. Hidden between things that matter.

Letter #17 (unsent)

Dani, Something happened today and I can’t stop thinking about it. I’m okay. Just—before you panic, I’m fine. But I saw something I don’t think I’ll ever unsee. And the weirdest part is… everything kept going after. Like it didn’t matter. Like it was just another thing to move past. I don’t know how to explain that without sounding like I’m losing it. I think about telling you everything sometimes. Just dumping it all out and letting you make sense of it. But I don’t want to put that on you. You deserve lighter things than this. I hope you’re still dancing. I hope you’re happy. — Y/N

You stare at that one longer than the others. Then fold it carefully. Like it deserves more care than it got.

Meanwhile—Daniela keeps every letter you do send.

Her life is changing too. Faster than she expected. Bigger. She moves, leaves Atlanta and finds herself in rooms she used to dream about, surrounded by people who feel just as determined, just as hungry as she is.

It’s exciting. It’s overwhelming. And through all of it—There’s you. Her letters are different. Messier. Lighter. Full of things she doesn’t want you to miss.

From Daniela (kept, folded neatly in a drawer)

Y/N, You would HATE this choreography. Like actually hate it. There’s this one move where you have to spin and drop and I thought of you immediately falling over. I tried to teach someone else and realised I’ve been spoiled by you being bad at it. No one else is as entertaining. Also I saw a dog today that looked exactly like the one we used to draw with chalk??? Do you remember that? I miss you. Call me when you can. — Dani

She reads them more than she’d admit. Late at night. In between schedules. On planes. In quiet moments where everything else feels too loud.

She keeps them in a drawer beside her bed. Neatly stacked. Like something important. Because they are.

Another call. This one worse.

You answer, already breathless. 'Hey—'

'Hi! Wait, are you—running?'

'Kind of—' you huff, ducking into a quieter space. 'I don’t have long.'

'That’s okay,' she says quickly. 'I just wanted to hear your voice.'

That lands somewhere deep. 'Yeah.'

There’s a pause. Before — 'I got in.' She blurts out.

You blink. 'Got into what?'

'The program I told you about.'

Your chest tightens—but this time, not in a bad way. 'Dani—that’s huge.'

'I know, I just—' she laughs, breath shaky. 'I wanted to tell you first.'

'You deserve it,' you say immediately. 'You’ve worked for this.'

'I wish you were here.'

You swallow. 'Me too.'

'Hey! Move!' The voice this time is closer. Sharper.

You close your eyes briefly. 'I have to go.'

Again. Every time.

'…Yeah,' she says, quieter now. 'Okay.'

'I’ll write.'

'You better.'

'I mean it.'

'I know.'

The line ends. And this time, you don’t move right away.

Years pass like that. In pieces. In letters sent. In letters kept. In words spoken too quickly and feelings that never quite get the time they need.

And somewhere along the way, you both become different people. Stronger. Harder, in some ways. Softer, in others. Carrying things you don’t fully share.

But still, when your name lights up her phone, she answers on the first ring. Every time.

And when her letters arrive, you read them more than once. Every time. Because no matter how much time passes, some things never really leave.

---

Six years doesn’t feel real until you’re standing in your childhood street again. It’s smaller than you remember. Quieter, too.

The houses haven’t changed—the same driveways, the same fences, the same uneven pavement you used to race your bike over—but everything feels… distant. Like you’re looking at it through glass instead of standing inside it.

You pause at the end of the street for a second longer than necessary. Just taking it in. Then you keep walking.

Your parents’ front door opens before you even knock. Your mom gets there first. She doesn’t hesitate—just pulls you straight into a hug, tight and immediate, like she’s been holding it in for six years.

'You’re home.' She says, voice already breaking.

'I’m home.' You echo.

Your dad’s right behind her, hand firm on your shoulder, pride written all over his face in that quiet way he’s always had. You let them hold you for a moment. Just a moment.

Because even though this is home—your home—there’s somewhere else your feet are already trying to take you.

You don’t stay long. You try. You really do. You sit, you talk, you answer their questions—How was it? Are you okay? Are you staying?—but your attention drifts. Your responses come out shorter than you mean them to.

Because your mind is already three houses down. Always has been.

'I’m just gonna—go see Dani.' You say, standing a little too quickly.

Your mom smiles softly, like she expected that. 'Of course you are.'

The walk feels longer this time. Or maybe it’s just heavier. Every step carries six years of things you didn’t say. Calls that ended too soon. Letters that never made it out of your bag.

You stop outside her house. Same as always. Same porch. Same window you used to throw pebbles at when she wasn’t answering her phone.

For a second, it almost feels like nothing’s changed. Like she might open the door any second, roll her eyes, and go— 'You could’ve just texted.'

You knock. It’s not Daniela who answers. It’s her mom. And for a split second, your brain doesn’t catch up.

'—Oh,' she says, surprised—but then her face softens immediately. 'Oh my goodness… look at you.'

You straighten slightly without meaning to. 'Hi.' You manage.

She steps forward, pulling you into a hug almost as tight as your mom’s. 'You’re back.' She murmurs.

'Yeah.'

She pulls back, holding you at arm’s length, looking at you properly now. And you can see it—the moment she realises how much you’ve changed. Not just older. Something else. Something quieter. Heavier.

'You’ve grown up.' She says gently.

You huff a faint breath. 'I had to.'

There’s a flicker of something in her eyes at that—but she doesn’t push. Instead, she glances over her shoulder, like she expects someone else to be there.

'She’s not here, sweetheart.'

Your chest tightens. '…What?'

'Daniela,' she clarifies softly. 'She moved. A while ago now.'

You blink, trying to process that. 'Moved where?'

'To LA. For her program—well, its not just a program anymore.' There’s pride in her voice now. 'She’s doing really well.'

LA. Across the country. You knew she’d gotten in. You knew things were moving for her. You just… didn’t realise how far.

'Oh.' You say, because it’s the only thing you can manage.

'She talks about you, you know,' her mum adds, like she’s trying to soften the blow. 'All the time.'

That lands somewhere deep. 'She does?'

'Of course.' She smiles. 'She kept all your letters.'

You swallow. 'I—' You stop yourself. 'That’s good.'

There’s a pause.

'You should call her.' She says gently.

'Yeah,' you nod. 'Yeah, I will.'

The walk back feels different. Heavier. Quieter. Like something you thought you were coming home to has shifted just out of reach.

You don’t even sit down when you get back. You go straight to your room. It’s almost exactly how you left it. Same bed. Same desk. Same stupid dent in the wall from when you threw a shoe at it junior year.

Time paused here. Except for you. Except for her.

You sit on the edge of your bed, phone in your hands. Staring at her name. Your thumb hovers over it longer than it should. Because suddenly, it feels bigger than a call. Six years reduced to a ringing tone.

You press it anyway. It rings once. Twice. Three times—

'Hello?'

Her voice. It hasn’t changed. Not really. Still bright. Still familiar. Still her.

You don’t speak right away.

'Hello?' She tries again, a little more uncertain this time.

'…Hey.'

There’s a pause. Then— '...No way.'

Your chest tightens.

'Hey, Daniela,' you say quietly. 'I’m home.'

Silence.

A sharp inhale on the other end.

'Wait—what?' She breathes. 'You’re—are you serious?'

'Yeah. I just got back now.'

'You didn’t tell me?' She blurts out.

'I didn’t—' You let out a breath. 'I wanted to just… get here first.'

'Oh my god,' she laughs, but it’s shaky. Overwhelmed. 'Oh my god.'

You can picture her. Exactly. Pacing. Hand in her hair. Eyes wide.

'You’re home.' She says again, like she’s trying to make it real.

'Yeah.'

'Did you—did you stop by? Did you go to my house?'

'I did.'

'And—' She stops. 'My mom told you.'

'Yeah.'

'I’m sorry,' she says immediately. 'I should’ve—I thought you knew it was in LA, I just assumed—'

'It’s okay.'

It is. It just… isn’t, at the same time.

'I would’ve come back,' she adds quickly. 'If I knew you were coming home, I would’ve—'

'Dani,' you cut in gently. 'It’s okay.'

She goes quiet.

'…Are you okay?' She asks then, softer. Careful.

You look around your room. At the pieces of a life that don’t quite fit you anymore.

'I don’t know yet.' You admit.

That honesty hangs there. Real and unfiltered.

'…Yeah,' she murmurs. 'I get that.'

Of course she does. She always does.

There’s a pause. Not uncomfortable. Just… full.

'You sound different.' She says after a moment.

You huff a small breath. 'Yeah?'

'Yeah, you sound older.'

You glance down at your hands. 'Yeah.'

'I mean—it makes sense,' she adds quickly. 'It’s just… weird. In a good way. I think.'

You smile faintly. 'You sound the same.'

'Wow. Rude.'

You let out a quiet laugh. There it is. That ease. Still there. Just buried under everything else.

Another pause. Then— 'I want to see you.'

It comes out before you can think about it. Immediate. Certain. She doesn’t hesitate.

'Then come.'

You blink. 'What?'

'Come to LA.'

Just like that. Like it’s the simplest thing in the world.

'I mean it,' she continues. 'Come visit. Stay for a bit. You can see everything, meet everyone—'

'I was going to say that.' You interrupt, a little breathless now.

She pauses. 'What?'

'I was going to say I’ll come visit.'

She laughs. Not small. Not controlled. Full. Bright. Disbelieving.

'Of course you were,' she says. 'Still in sync, huh?'

'Something like that.'

Your grip on the phone tightens slightly. 'I don’t really… have anything keeping me here right now,' you admit. 'I just got back and it already feels like—'

'Like what?'

You search for the word. '…Like I’m waiting for something.'

She doesn’t answer right away. Then, softly— 'Then don’t wait.'

That lands. Straight in your chest.

'I’ll come.' You say more certain this time. 'I’ll book it tonight.'

'Yeah?'

'Yeah.'

Her smile is audible. 'Okay,' she says, quieter now—but warmer than anything else. 'Okay.'

And for the first time since you stepped back onto this street— Something clicks. Not fully. Not perfectly. But enough.

Because maybe home isn’t a place you came back to. Maybe it’s something— someone— you’re still moving toward.

---

By the next morning, you’re already at the airport. It feels too fast. Too soon. Like your life has skipped a few steps and you’re just… keeping up.

Your bag is light—years of your life reduced to something you can carry over your shoulder. Your phone is heavier. Because she’s in it now.

you: boarding now

You stare at the message for a second before sending it. It goes through instantly. Three dots appear almost immediately.

Dani: already??? you move fast

You huff a quiet breath through your nose.

you: if i didn’t i’d probably talk myself out of it

A pause. Then—

Dani: …yeah. thats fair.

Another message follows right after.

Dani: text me when you land. actually no—text me everything. i want updates

You shake your head slightly, a small smile pulling at your mouth.

you: yes ma’am Dani: don’t call me that you: noted. will continue doing it anyway Dani: i hate you you: no you don’t Dani: …no i don’t

The flight is long. Too long to sleep properly. Too short to process everything. You spend most of it staring out the window, watching the world stretch and shift beneath you, wondering when exactly your life started moving this fast. Wondering when you decided to let it.

When you land, your phone buzzes before you even switch it off airplane mode.

Dani: are you alive

You almost laugh.

you: just landed

The reply is instant.

Dani: okay breathe. don’t disappear. i’m tracking you mentally you: that’s not concerning at all Dani: i haven’t seen you in SIX YEARS let me be dramatic

You don’t argue with that. Because she’s right.

you: getting my luggage Dani: i’m here

You pause mid-step. Your chest tightens—sharp and sudden.

you: already? Dani: i’ve been here for like 20 minutes

Of course she has.

The baggage claim feels too loud. Too busy. People moving in every direction, voices overlapping, announcements echoing overhead. And you’re just… standing there. Waiting. Watching bags circle that aren’t yours. Heart beating a little too fast.

Then your phone buzzes again.

Dani: where are you

You glance up. Scan the crowd.

you: baggage claim 4

You don’t even finish locking your phone before you see her. It doesn’t hit you all at once. It’s slower than that. A recognition that builds. Because she’s different.

Older, obviously. That’s expected. But it’s more than that. She’s… settled into herself in a way you don’t remember. Confident. Grounded. Like she knows exactly where she stands in the world.

Her hair—long, dark, curly—falls naturally around her shoulders, fuller than you remember, framing her face in a way that makes your chest tighten unexpectedly.

She’s scanning the crowd. Then her eyes land on you. And everything stops. For a second, neither of you move. Like your brains are still catching up to what you’re seeing.

Six years. Reduced to this one moment. Then something in you just goes. No thought. No hesitation. Your body moves before your mind can catch up, weaving through people, your focus locked entirely on her.

She does the same. And then—You’re there. The impact of the hug is immediate. Solid. Real. Her arms wrap around you tight—tighter than you expected, like she’s making up for every second she didn’t get to do this.

You don’t hesitate this time. You hug her back just as hard. And for a moment, everything else disappears. No airport. No noise. No distance. Just this. Her. Warm and familiar.

She pulls back first—but not far. Just enough to look at you. Really look at you.

'Hi.' She breathes, like she’s still not fully convinced you’re real.

'Hi.'

Her hands are still on your arms, like she doesn’t quite want to let go. 'You’re actually here.'

'Yeah.'

She shakes her head slightly, laughing under her breath. 'That’s insane.'

'You’re insane.'

'True.'

There’s a moment. Then her eyes narrow slightly—taking you in.

'You look…' She tilts her head. 'Different.'

'Good different or—'

'Shut up,' she cuts in immediately. 'Obviously good.'

You huff a small breath. 'You look—' You stop, because suddenly the words feel heavier than they should. 'You look beautiful.'

It slips out quieter than you expected. Honest. Unfiltered.

Her expression flickers—just for a second. Something soft. Something caught off guard. Then she shoves you. Not hard. Just enough to break the moment.

'Okay,' she mutters, grabbing your suitcase handle before you can react. 'Don’t start.'

You blink, thrown slightly off balance—but there’s a faint smile tugging at your mouth. 'Don’t start what?'

'That,' she says vaguely, already turning, already pulling your suitcase along with her. 'We’re not doing that right now.'

You fall into step beside her. 'Doing what?'

'Complimenting me like you’ve been gone for six years and suddenly have feelings.'

You almost trip over your own feet. 'I was just—'

'Mm-hm.'

'I was being nice.'

'Mm-hm.'

You glance at her. She’s hiding a smile.

'Come on,' she says, nodding toward the exit. 'Let’s get out of here.'

The walk to her car is easy. Too easy. Like your body remembers how to be around her before your brain does.

She talks the whole time. Not in a rushed way—just… filling you in. Bits and pieces. LA traffic. Schedules. Complaints about early mornings. Random stories that don’t have proper endings.

You listen. Mostly. Because part of you is still just… watching her. Taking in the way she moves. The way she talks with her hands. The way she’s somehow exactly the same and completely different all at once.

She loads your suitcase into the trunk like it’s nothing. You automatically step in to help.

'I’ve got it.' She says.

'I can—'

'I know you can,' she cuts in, glancing at you. 'Just let me.'

You pause. Then nod. Old habits. New dynamics.

You slide into the passenger seat, shut the door. And for a second— It’s quiet. Just the two of you. No noise. No movement. Just… this. Then she starts the engine.

'And—' she says, like she’s been holding it in, 'I need you to meet everyone.'

You glance at her. 'Everyone?'

'Yeah. The girls.'

'…What girls?'

She glances at you like she’s just realised something. 'Oh—right.' A small laugh. 'I didn’t really explain that, did I?'

'No. You didn’t.'

'Okay, well—' she pulls out of the parking space smoothly, like this is second nature now, 'I’ll explain on the way.'

You lean back slightly, watching her. There’s something almost… excited in her energy now. Like she’s been waiting for this part.

'They’re my group.' She adds.

You frown slightly. 'Group?'

'Yeah.'

Then, casually— 'I’m in a girl group.'

You blink. '…You’re in a what?'

She glances at you again—grinning now. 'A girl group.'

You stare at her. '…Since when?'

'Since a while ago,' she says, like that explains anything. 'I told you about the program, right? It turned into something bigger.'

'That’s—' You shake your head slightly. 'You didn’t say that.'

'I thought you knew.'

'I did not know.'

She laughs. 'Okay, well. Surprise.'

You sit back, processing that. 'You’re in a—like, a proper—'

'Yes,' she cuts in, amused. 'A proper one.'

'And you want me to just—what—walk into that?'

'Yes.'

'Dani—'

'They’re going to love you.'

'You don’t know that.'

'I do.'

You glance at her. She’s completely serious. '…I’ll explain everything when we get to my apartment,' she adds, softer now. 'Okay?'

You hesitate. Then nod. 'Okay.'

The car merges into traffic. The city stretches out around you—bigger, louder, faster than anything you’ve known for the past six years.

And beside you—Daniela drums her fingers lightly against the steering wheel, a small, excited energy buzzing through her. Like she’s bringing two parts of her life together. Finally.

And you—You sit there, watching it all unfold. Realising, slowly that you didn’t just come back home. You stepped into something new entirely. And somehow, it already feels like you’re exactly where you’re supposed to be.

---

The drive settles into something quieter the closer you get to her place. The city hum fades into the background, replaced by something more… contained. Residential. Calm, in its own way.

You don’t realise you’ve been watching her the whole time until she glances over and catches you.

'What?' She asks, one brow lifting.

'Nothing.'

'That didn’t sound like nothing.'

You shake your head lightly, looking out the window instead. 'Just… taking it in.'

She hums, like she understands more than you said out loud.

Her apartment building is nicer than you expected. Not flashy—just… put together. Clean lines, big windows, the kind of place that feels lived in but intentional. Very her.

She grabs your bag again before you can. 'Dani—'

'Don’t start.' She mutters, already heading toward the entrance.

You let it go. Again.

The second the door to her apartment opens— You feel it. Her. It’s everywhere. It’s not obvious at first glance.

The space is neat, modern, decorated in a way that makes sense for someone living in LA.

But then you start noticing things. Small things. Specific things. There’s a photo on a shelf—slightly tucked back, like it wasn’t meant to be the focus. You and her. You’re younger. Probably fifteen. Sitting on the pavement outside her house, covered in chalk dust, grinning like idiots.

You pause in front of it. '…You kept that?'

From behind you, she shrugs. 'Obviously.'

You glance over your shoulder at her. 'Obviously.' You repeat.

She rolls her eyes, but there’s no bite to it.

There’s more. A hoodie thrown over the back of a chair that you know used to be yours. A chipped mug you recognise instantly. Even the way she’s arranged things—there’s familiarity in it. A quiet thread of your shared past woven into a life you weren’t there for.

Your chest tightens. Not in a bad way. Just… a lot.

'Do you want a drink?' She asks, heading toward the kitchen like she needs something to do with her hands.

'Water’s fine.'

'Of course it is.' She mutters, grabbing a glass anyway.

You huff a quiet breath, leaning lightly against the counter as she fills it. She slides it over. Your fingers brush briefly when you take it. Neither of you comment on it.

You fall into conversation easily after that. Like muscle memory. She tells you things in pieces. About training. About moving. About the girls. Not everything—just enough to give you a shape of it.

You fill in your side the same way. General. Controlled. You notice it when she notices it.

'You don’t talk about it much.' She says at one point, not accusing—just observing.

You shrug lightly, eyes on your glass. 'There’s not much to say.'

She watches you for a second longer than necessary.

'Okay.'

She lets it go. For now.

Her phone buzzes on the counter. She glances at it, then at you. 'They’re on their way.'

Your stomach does something weird at that. 'Already?'

'I told you they’d want to meet you.'

'That doesn’t mean I’m ready for it.'

She grins slightly. 'Too late.'

The first knock comes sooner than you expect. Then another. Then voices. Multiple. Loud.

The door swings open and suddenly—There are people. Girls, all around your age, filtering into the apartment like they’ve done this a hundred times before. Energy fills the space instantly. Bright. Chaotic. Warm.

'Hi—oh my god, hi.' 'Is this—?' 'Wait, this is—' 'Dani’s been talking about you for years.'

You barely have time to process one voice before another takes its place.

Daniela steps in smoothly, grounding it. 'Guys—' she laughs, lightly pushing one of them back. 'Give her a second, oh my god.'

She turns to you, gesturing between you and them. 'This is—everyone.' She says, which is not helpful at all.

You huff a quiet breath. 'Good introduction.'

'Shut up.'

She does it properly after that. Names. One by one. Faces you try to match quickly. They’re all different—but they all have that same underlying confidence. That same presence.

It clicks. These aren’t just friends.

'And this,' Daniela adds, like it’s the final piece, 'is my group.'

There’s a small pause. 'Katseye.'

You blink. '…Like the crystals?'

There’s a beat. Then a few of them laugh.

'Yes,' Sophia says. 'Exactly like the crystals.'

You nod slowly. 'Cool.'

You end up sitting on the couch, surrounded before you even realise it’s happening. Questions come quickly—but not in an overwhelming way. Curious. Interested. Genuine.

'So you just got back?' 'After six years?' 'What was it like?' 'Did you always know you wanted to do that?'

You answer what you can. Deflect what you don’t want to get into. They don’t push. Not really.

You return the questions too. Because you don’t understand this world at all.

'So you’re—famous?'

That gets a laugh.

'Kind of.' Lara says.

'Kind of?' You repeat.

'It’s weird,' Manon adds. 'You don’t really feel it until you do.'

You nod slowly. 'That sounds… complicated.'

'It is.'

You glance at Daniela. She’s watching you. Not the conversation. You. Like she’s checking—constantly—if you’re okay.

Time passes quickly. Too quickly. The room fills with overlapping conversations, laughter, small moments you don’t fully catch but still feel part of.

It’s… easy. Easier than you expected.

Then Daniela claps her hands once. 'Okay.'

Everyone pauses.

'I love you all,' she says, already ushering them up, 'but you need to go.'

Immediate protests.

'What?' 'Already?' 'We just got here!' 'I haven’t even—'

'Out.' She insists, pushing them gently toward the door.

You blink, caught off guard. 'Dani—'

'I haven’t seen her in six years.' She shoots back, like that explains everything.

It kind of does.

There’s a chorus of dramatic sighs, teasing comments, but they listen. One by one, they filter out.

'Nice meeting you—' 'Don’t be a stranger—' 'We’re stealing you next time—'

The door finally shuts. Silence. It settles slower this time. Comfortable. Real.

Daniela leans back against the door, exhaling. 'Sorry,' she says. 'They’re a lot.'

'They’re nice.' You mean it.

She studies you for a second. 'Yeah?'

'Yeah.'

There’s a pause.

Something quieter now. More focused. You shift slightly, reaching down for your bag.

She watches you, curious. 'What are you—'

You pull it open. Hesitate. Just for a second. Then, you take them out. A small stack. Folded. Worn at the edges. Carefully kept.

Her expression changes immediately. '…What’s that?'

You don’t answer right away. You just… hold them out. Toward her.

'I wrote these,' you say finally. 'Over there.'

She doesn’t take them immediately. Just looks at them. Then at you. '…You never sent them.'

'No.'

'Why?'

You shrug lightly. 'Didn’t know how.' That’s the simplest version of the truth.

She steps forward slowly. Takes them from your hands like they might fall apart. Her fingers brush yours again. This time, neither of you pulls away immediately. She looks down at the stack. At the years you never gave her.

'…Can I read them?'

You nod. 'Yeah.'

She doesn’t sit. Doesn’t move. She just… stands there. Opens the first one carefully.

You don’t watch her read. You can’t. Instead, you lean back slightly against the counter, arms crossing loosely, eyes fixed somewhere just past her shoulder.

The room is quiet. Except for the soft sound of paper unfolding. Her breathing shifts. Subtle. But you notice.

Time stretches. You don’t know how long she stands there reading. One letter. Then another. Then another. When she finally looks up, her eyes are different. Softer. Fuller. Like she’s seeing something she didn’t before.

'You went through all of that.' She says quietly.

It’s not a question. You don’t answer it like one.

'Yeah.'

She swallows. Tight. '…And you didn’t tell me.'

There’s no accusation in it. Just… something else. Something heavier.

'I didn’t want to put it on you.' You admit.

Her grip tightens slightly on the letters. 'I would’ve taken it.' She says.

You believe her. That’s the problem. There's a pause, then she steps closer. Not rushed. Not hesitant. Just… certain.

'You don’t have to do that anymore.' She says softly.

You blink. 'Do what?'

'Carry everything by yourself.'

That lands. Harder than you expect.

You let out a slow breath. '…I don’t know how not to.'

She nods. Like she expected that. 'Then we figure it out.' She says.

Simple. Steady. And for the first time since you got back—Since before that, even—You feel something shift. Not fixed. Not healed. But, less alone.

---

The TV is playing, but neither of you are really watching it anymore.

Some over-the-top reality show fills the room—raised voices, dramatic music, someone storming out over something ridiculous—but it’s just noise. Background. Something to keep the silence from pressing too hard.

You’re sitting on opposite ends of the couch at first. A safe distance. A necessary distance.

Daniela watches you instead of the screen. Not in the obvious way—not staring. But her eyes keep drifting back. Taking you in piece by piece like she’s trying to solve something.

Six years. Six years and you’re right here, and somehow she still feels like she’s talking to someone she only half knows now.

'You’re quieter.' She says eventually.

It’s gentle. Observational. But it lands heavier than anything else she could’ve said.

You let out a small breath through your nose, eyes still on the TV. 'Yeah.'

'That’s not all.' She presses softly.

You don’t answer this time. Your jaw tightens just slightly—barely noticeable, but she catches it. She always did.

'You don’t fidget anymore,' she adds. 'You used to. All the time. Your hands were always doing something.'

You glance down at your hands resting still in your lap. She’s right.

'I got told to stop,' you say after a moment. 'Didn’t look… professional.'

Daniela’s expression shifts. Something about that doesn’t sit right with her.

'And you listen like…' she trails off, trying to find the words. 'Like you’re waiting for something bad to happen.'

That one hits. You huff out a quiet, humourless laugh. 'That one’s not something you get told to do.'

Silence stretches between you again—but it’s different now. Tighter. Closer to something breaking.

She shifts toward you slightly. 'Talk to me,' she says, softer this time. 'Please.'

There’s no pressure in it. No demand. Just… her. And that makes it worse.

You shake your head instinctively. 'It’s not—'

'It is,' she cuts in gently. 'You think I can’t tell?'

You swallow. Your eyes flick to hers for just a second—and that’s all it takes.

She sees it. Everything you’ve been holding back, sitting just beneath the surface.

'…I don’t even know where to start.' You admit quietly.

'Anywhere.' She says.

So you do. Not all at once. Not in some big, dramatic spill. It comes out in pieces. Slow. Uneven. Careful.

'There were nights…' you start, voice already tightening, 'where I didn’t sleep. Not because I couldn’t—because I didn’t want to.'

Daniela doesn’t interrupt. Doesn’t move.

'I kept thinking if I fell asleep, something would happen. Or I’d miss something. Or—' you stop, exhaling shakily. 'Or I’d dream about it again.'

Her chest tightens.

You stare at a fixed point somewhere past the TV. 'There were alarms. Sometimes real, sometimes drills. You don’t know which is worse after a while.' A small, dry laugh. 'Your body stops caring. It just reacts.'

Your fingers twitch slightly now, like the memory is trying to pull you back into it.

'I had panic attacks,' you admit, quieter. 'A lot of them.'

That one feels heavier to say out loud than anything else so far.

'Couldn’t breathe. Couldn’t think. Just…' you gesture vaguely, frustrated. 'Everything at once.'

Daniela’s hand inches closer on the couch cushion between you. Not touching. Not yet.

'I used to think about home,' you continue. 'All the time. Like—constantly. Your house. My room. That stupid streetlight that flickered outside my window.'

A faint smile ghosts across your lips for a second. 'Thought if I could just get back, everything would… reset.'

Your voice cracks slightly on the last word. 'But it doesn’t,' you add quickly, almost cutting yourself off. 'It doesn’t work like that.'

Daniela finally reaches out. Just barely—her fingers brushing against yours. Not grabbing. Not holding. Just there.

You don’t pull away.

'I wanted to leave,' you admit, barely above a whisper. 'So many times.'

Her throat tightens.

'But I couldn’t.' Your jaw sets slightly. 'People were relying on me. My unit, my country—whatever you want to call it. I signed up for it. I couldn’t just… walk away because it got hard.'

Daniela’s fingers curl around yours properly now. Firm. Grounding.

'You shouldn’t have had to go through that alone.' She says softly.

You shake your head. 'I wasn’t alone,' you say. 'Not technically. But it felt like it.'

That one hangs in the air. Heavy. Honest. Final.

The TV continues blaring in the background, completely disconnected from the moment unfolding on the couch.

You inhale slowly, like you’ve just run a marathon. Then exhale. And just like that—you pull yourself back. It’s subtle, but Daniela feels it immediately.

The shift. The walls sliding back into place. So you change the subject. Abruptly.

'Play me something.' You say, nodding toward her phone on the table.

She blinks. 'What?'

'Your music,' you clarify. 'You said you’d show me.'

She hesitates for half a second—just long enough to realise what you’re doing.

An escape. But she lets you have it.

'…okay.' She says gently.

She reaches for her phone, scrolling for a moment before tapping on a track. The room fills with music.

'My Way.'

It’s different from what you expected. There’s something steady about it. Confident. Grounded. You lean back into the couch, listening properly.

Not analysing. Not overthinking. Just… listening.

Daniela watches you the entire time. Your shoulders drop slightly as the song goes on. Your breathing evens out. Something in your expression softens—just a little. When it ends, there’s a quiet beat.

'…I like that one.' You say.

She smiles faintly. 'Yeah?'

You nod. 'It feels…' you search for the word. 'Certain.'

She tilts her head. 'Certain?'

'Like it knows where it’s going,' you explain. 'Doesn’t second guess itself.'

A pause. 'I think I forgot what that feels like.'

Daniela’s chest aches at that. 'You’ll find it again.' She says softly.

You glance at her. There’s something in your expression now—something open. Vulnerable in a different way.

'You always were good at that.' You murmur.

'At what?'

'Making things sound possible.'

Her breath catches slightly. The moment lingers. Stretches. Shifts into something quieter. Warmer. Closer.

At some point, you’ve both moved without realising. The distance between you is gone now. Your shoulders brush. Then stay.

The TV keeps playing. Neither of you notice what show it is anymore. You glance at her again. This time, you don’t look away as quickly.

'I missed you.' You say.

Simple. Honest. Too honest.

Daniela’s breath stutters. 'I missed you too.' She replies immediately.

You nod slowly, like you expected that. Like it still hits anyway.

There’s something sitting on the tip of your tongue now. Something bigger. Heavier. Six years of it. You can feel it rising—feel the words forming before you can stop them.

'I—' You stop.

Daniela leans in slightly. 'What?'

Your eyes flick down. Then back up.

Your heart is pounding for an entirely different reason now. Not fear. Not memories. Something softer. More dangerous.

'I was gonna ask…' you pivot, the words shifting at the last second. 'If you’re—um… seeing anyone.'

Daniela blinks. It takes her a second to process the switch. Then she shakes her head.

'No,' she says. 'It’s… hard. With everything.'

She gestures vaguely—career, schedules, expectations. 'People either don’t get it or…' she shrugs. 'It just doesn’t work.'

You nod slowly. 'Yeah.'

A small pause. 'Figures.'

She studies you. 'You?'