#eunchae fluff

—

The door clicks shut for the last time of the day, and you're alone in the studio again.

Your mind is (metaphorically) scattered — contempt, turmoil, wistful. You're obviously not sorrowful. You can't allow yourself to be like that. Your hands hover over the sliders and buttons and panels of the mixing console competently as ever, even if your brain is a mess, even if your cock still feels the warmth of her cunt pulsing around it, even if you're about to cry for the first time in years.

Okay, shit, you have to cry.

The room still reminds you of Eunchae, unfortunately. The microphone she used as an excuse to lure you in is still there. The floor of the recording area has these droplets of her juice. The wall reeks of her perfume and squirt — so wicked.

Eunchae says all these things: I hate labels, don't kiss me on my lips. The signpost is fucking massive — red flag, precautions, warnings. Yunjin explicitly stated the emotional disaster Eunchae can be — can stir inside you — yet you let your heart slip into this ugly, catastrophic state for hers. There's this possibility that you're in love just with the idea of her — her being this perfect girlfriend without any flaws in her soul, smiling happily because of you. It's such a perfect cadence in your head.

In real life, however, it's still a misery. The best you can get is her body — fucking her through and through, making her moan on your cock, filling her to the brim with your essence — but not her fucking heart.

And now, in the studio, you just sit there, suppressing yourself from the inevitable surge of melancholy raging inside you.

The first drop of tears falls from your eyes, eventually.

—

turnstyle, 0:03: you up?

The whirring of the heater fills the room with warmth, casting a spell of comfort all over. You lie under your blanket idly, your phone in your hand. The screen shines into your eyes in the dark night, just hours after your second tryst with Eunchae. That's the third sentence in a row with a clause followed by a phrase, should vary the structure. Your mind keeps replaying this image of debauchery in the recording studio — words, moans, sensations. Unbelievably vivid, you'd call it.

Three dots bouncing from the other side, then:

jensuisjen, 0:05: kinda

jensuisjen, 0:05: what is up

jensuisjen, 0:06: aside from me lol

You recount the debased events from earlier: her voice, her hands, her lips. You hesitate a bit as your thumbs type down the order of happenings to Yunjin, unsure if you should open yourself to her fully. Still, you have no one else to reach out to. Your parents aren't the emotional type. Your friends are living too far away. And Eunchae is, well, the offender of this typhoon, so it's just Yunjin for now.

The trio of dots will linger quite a long time on Yunjin's side.

jensuisjen, 0:09: wow long message

jensuisjen, 0:09: please keep writing though i wanna read

It's mostly about the incident first, in your first block of message — the microphone, the walls, the belt. Then, there comes the second message to Yunjin, a much, much shorter — succinct, even — telling of your state of the heart. There's the uncertainty of your love for (the idea of) Hong Eunchae. It surely feels nothing short of peculiar to open up to someone who has been lauded as a public, picture-perfect figure like this, but you need to talk to one if you're to fall in love with another.

jensuisjen, 0:14: wow

Then, there's quite a lengthy pause from Yunjin. You're a bit concerned, really, but you have to give her time to process. She's perhaps completely shocked by the whole ordeal of your rendezvous in the studio, then your emotions, then your affection. She's seeing you in a new light, regardless of being bad or good.

jensuisjen, 0:17: that was something

jensuisjen, 0:17: [Grimacing Face]

jensuisjen, 0:18: ok wait i can't get the image out of my head

jensuisjen, 0:18: like i was in there one sec and you fuck her the next second lol

jensuisjen, 0:19: you guys are fucking freaks lmoa

You guys — you should correct her over that. Eunchae doesn't want to be whole with you, at least romantically. You let it slide, though.

turnstyle, 0:20: i have to tell her i think

turnstyle, 0:21: like

Then there's a stop — one that's a little too long for Yunjin's liking, perchance. You just don't know what to say!

jensuisjen, 0:22: like

What do you tell Eunchae, though? You don't want to be just friends-with-benefits, and you want more than that?

Let's reiterate over your heart a bit.

In all honesty, you're missing a fuckton of details for Eunchae. You don't know her birthday — just the 2006 part. You can't remember her perfume. You're unaware of her preferences in things. One thing you're certain of, however, is that you want her close to you. You want her to pull the trigger on the gun that you gave her when you met. Okay, perhaps two things: you wanna wake up next to her every day and see her smile first thing in the morning. Alright, three: you want emotional closeness, despite your narcissistic tendencies, despite all of your flaws. And to conclude with about two chapters of the story with you and Hong Eunchae — the kiss, the finger, the sex, after everything:

You can't figure out what the hell you want out of and for her.

There's neither unity nor resonance to it.

turnstyle, 0:25: ykw

turnstyle, 0:26: i don't think i know my feelings for her either

turnstyle, 0:26: idea or person idk

jensuisjen, 0:26: hmm

jensuisjen, 0:27: dw

jensuisjen, 0:27: you should talk to her still

turnstyle, 0:27: yeah i gotta

turnstyle, 0:28: no sex

jensuisjen, 0:28: lmoa

turnstyle, 0:29: yeah

You chuckle softly.

turnstyle, 0:30: gn

turnstyle, 0:31: thanks for tonight

jensuisjen, 0:31: gn [Kissing Face with Closed eyes]

As always, you just double tap her final message and call it a night.

—

We're on the release day of the EP — a Friday, one post meridiem — and your song is a success.

You can't give fewer fucks regarding the other tracks: the spoken-word prelude, the title track, the alt-pop, the compulsory final ballad. You rush to check the score for your track on Album of the Year and RateYourMusic. It fluctuates a bit during the first few hours. You keep refreshing the page while you are outside in the spring chill, having your somewhat late lunch in a park.

After a while, it settles at a satisfactory score. It might go down a tad more over time, but you're happy with the outcome. The reviews are reassuring: a breath of fresh air for K-pop, meticulously produced, derivative in its lyrical themes, but an encouraging sign for the industry.

Normally, you'd be spending your fortune on a vacation or whatever, celebrating yet another critical success. Still, despite the positive appraisals, you can't take your mind off the heartbreaking nature of your more-than-friends-but-not-lovers relationship with Hong Eunchae.

(Or, well, situationship — in simpler and worse terms.)

It has been an entire month since the detached rendezvous with Eunchae in the studio — the spearmint breath, the no-lips policy, the softness of her skin. There have been zero conversations between yourselves since she exited the door — messages, phone calls, face-to-face talks, just none. She has been busy with the pre-comeback promotional cycle, and you understand the fact. Still, you've been utterly haunted by it every single day, both by your feelings and the ambiguity.

Eunchae remains preoccupied with the music shows and post-release promotions. You watch her perform, of course you do. For the first time, you start to catch the flair and dexterity in her movements when she dances. You dream of her voice echoing in your head every other night, and half of the On Repeat playlist on your Spotify becomes LE SSERAFIM. Your concentration is totally ruined during the day just at the thought of her — again, her spearmint lips, her no-lips practice, her skin's plushness.

Still, in the wake of your desperate yearning for her, you just don't have the heart to tell Eunchae that you don't want this. You don't have the heart to demand more than her body and proximity out of this. You don't have the heart to ask for her love.

Academically, all in all, you want to keep her close, but keeping her close like this is also killing you.

And you can do nothing to evade that downfall.

—

The first week of the EP's release has passed. Hybe reports the album sales as a modest accomplishment, comfortable enough for another project in half a year. Your career with them is restored to the safety zone with your dreamy wall of sounds and the theme of longing. It resonates with people. The melody is lovely. The lyrics are engaging.

Your love life isn't resolved, still.

There's a little difference in your relationship from last week. You've tried to send something to Eunchae a few times. You type into the message box in your chat with her, albeit tragically, only to end up clearing it out of cowardice, over the terror of losing her forever.

In terms of health, you can't fucking sleep properly for the last three days. Insomnia begins to set in with all the stress clumping up. You keep waking up every 90 minutes somehow. In the morning, you don't feel like you're fully charged, and you're just forced to spend the rest of the day with baggy eyes and a barely beating heart.

The world is kind enough to give you another chance, though — another push.

It's still spring, but the air isn't agonizingly cold anymore. You don't really tremble in this temperature. A long sleeve shirt and a pair of jeans suffice for you. You tread along the sidewalk, burdened, mentally drained, physically deteriorated. Your brain is not functioning properly, and you keep walking exhaustedly for nobody knows how far — directionless, with no destination in mind. Eunchae's name gets repeated in your mind like an endless prayer — a true decadence for you. You're truly scatterbrained right now, and nothing can—

"Hey!" a voice calls from the road.

You keep walking. They're not asking for—

"Producer!"

Okay, that cannot be anyone but you. How many producers are in Seoul right now? You turn to the speaker immediately.

There is, physically, an obsidian (writer's hasty Google search) black car parked by the sidewalk. Two men in suits are standing in front of the sliding door — the bodyguards from that day you ate an uncohesive kebab? Inside is Huh Yunjin in a cream sweater and some kind of pants, sitting in her seat and looking your way.

"Wanna hop in?"

You look at Yunjin, confused by her unprompted appearance in your area — BLACKPINK style. How convenient of her to appear at your low point in life like this?

"It's just me and the guys! The rest are at Inkigayo already," Yunjin continues, and a part of you feels better with the knowledge that Eunchae isn't here. Then, of course, you hop into the car. The door closes promptly, and you find yourself sitting inside the van with Huh Yunjin.

(And the driver.)

(And the bodyguards.)

"I slept in," Yunjin starts as the van moves forward. "How are you? Haven't seen you since, what, the recording day, right?" she asks with a smile — friendly, disarming.

Might sound overly dramatic, but you almost want to hug her right now and cry within her arms, if not for her makeup that's already there on her. You just go with your nonchalant composure first, even if you look like shit physically. "Been better."

"Been better my ass," Yunjin immediately rebukes, and you agree with that statement, really. "You look like a fucking zombie."

You give her an awkward smile, then: "How are you, though?"

A laugh from her, then: "You're the one to ask," she scoffs, and you can only grimace. "Alright, it's the usual comeback stuff: practices, events, music shows. We've barely gotten any sleep this past week."

"We? How's Eunchae?" That's mean to Yunjin, but you can't help it!

"Ouch, I'm still talking about myself here," and Yunjin chuckles. She knows where you're coming from, thankfully. "Okay, a question for you: have you talked to her yet?"

"I did try writing in her message box," you answer truthfully, entirely too spent to lie.

Yunjin gives you this are-you-deadass expression — a mix of disappointment and confusion. "That's not encouraging, if we're being honest," she states.

And if you're being honest, "Yeah, I just," and you kind of become aware of the people around you in the van all of a sudden: two bodyguards and one driver. "You guys are not telling her, right?" you ask the guys.

They turn to you and nod. Alright, your not-so-anti-fragile, failing state of mind is safe with them.

You take a deep breath before opening yourself a little more to Yunjin. Your heart beats faster. Your breaths quicken. "I just, fuck, I wanna keep her close to me."

"And you look atrocious in this state of situationship. Not that I'm siding with you — gotta be fair to you guys — but you really, really need to talk to her."

"I'm trying! But—" Yunjin's deathly glare stops another excuse leaving your lips.

She sighs, expression softening before half-ordering you, "You should do it tonight, after today's show. What are we? I want more than being your friend-slash-fuck-buddy. Just make it simple."

You look at the bodyguards and the driver as if to survey their opinions regarding the topic. They nod agreeingly, and you can do nothing but purse your lips timidly.

"You can delay a bit until the end of the promotion if you want — let things settle and stuff — but I don't think you'd ask her if I don't encourage you like this," Yunjin continues, shrugging. "And I don't wanna sing a sad song for the next EP," she says with a chuckle. You almost smile along with her.

"Okay, we're here!" The driver announces. That's rather fast. You didn't even realize that you were walking this close to the Inkigayo studio under the spring air.

"Alright!" and Yunjin pulls you into a hug suddenly. Warm. Her perfume is rosy. Loving. Her sweater is a little scratchy, but you don't mind that. Consoling. You can feel your tear ducts about to break loose, really.

"Thanks," you utter. "I'll text her tonight."

Yunjin releases you from her arms, and you make way for her to get out of the van into the studio. She gives you a few more final words before she disappears into the building still.

"I don't know how this will end, to be honest," Yunjin manages, then a smile — sincere, "but I hope you guys can still talk to each other after this, no matter what happens"

You smile back at her with a glimmer of hope — the hope that it won't break your heart.

"Thanks."

—

Deep breath.

Exhale.

Deep breath.

Exhale.

Deep breath.

Send.

turnstyle, 22:47: hey

turnstyle, 22:47: can we talk

turnstyle, 22:48: about us

turnstyle, 22:48: i think i want more than

turnstyle, 22:48: this

You wait for about five minutes, staring at the screen, wishing for an instant reply. There's no read indicator popping up from Eunchae's side, and you just put your phone back on the nightstand at seven to eleven (not sponsored), and you just sleep.

You still can't rest well, despite the sent message. Your imagination runs wild in the realm of possibilities of her words that you will-slash-might see in the morning. She might just break up with you. She might just read without replying. She might not even read it. You just can't stop these thoughts, and they're eating you up from the inside.

Bleak dream as well: her face, her voice, her smell. It's just so vivid under the merciless nocturne.

Still, despite the probable predicaments plaguing your mental well-being, you wake up to:

notyoureunchae, 2:14: after the promo

notyoureunchae, 2:14: promise

That's a week away, and it's the only thing you can hold on to, really. There's nothing else you can act on or hope for.

(Also, great, the time is making up as February 14th — lovely day.)

All of this because of a woman named Hong Eunchae — Manchae, smile potato, not yours.

—

The week is fucking grueling. You try not to be a deadweight for Yunjin, despite how much willpower is needed not to text and vent and cry in the DM. You spend the 168 hours (give or take) on Ableton and going outside and meeting your friends and doing new shenanigans. Still, you swear that time is fucking with you. It's as if someone keeps halting its motion.

You stop watching music shows for the entirety of seven days; you just can't bring yourself to do it. Everything tells you that Eunchae remains professional on broadcasts as always — smiling, dancing, singing on the stage. You just know she can do it, and a part of your heart wishes her to do well, really, even if the other is dreading an answer from her, even if the other wants her to prioritize itself.

Your song is still doing well on the charts, hitting a decent position for a B-side. It gets some acclaim with minimal complaints. That fact keeps you going, indeed. Though the arrogance and ego are completely demolished for Eunchae to occupy your messy mind freely — her eyes, her voice, her lips that she refuses to let you press yours against. Oh, you know the boundaries she set. You know she's aware of her own capacity to love someone. You know she's being incredibly mature about this. Oh, why are you still wishing for something that you'll never have?

(To intervene, you're like a fucking gambler right now, betting on seventeen black — a metaphor for her emotions for you in this case — and you just let it ride.)

You keep interrogating yourself about everything during the long wait — your feelings, your attachment, your qualities — and sometimes you get answers, sometimes you don't. They don't stop you from seeking solutions, though. The silence gives you time to discover yourself, to find the perfect cadence in the diverse frequencies of the world.

And the most important note: to find out whether you love her.

The time comes, eventually.

A message pops up at the top of your screen one day. You're in your bed scrolling Reddit.

notyoureunchae, 10:29: promo done

You open Instagram immediately to find three dots bouncing from Eunchae's side.

notyoureunchae, 10:30: come to the dorm

notyoureunchae, 10:30: we can talk

Your mental ability doesn't allow you to read between the lines, and the fact bugs you, to be honest. Her feelings remain a mystery. You take a walk from your place to hers in an instant, nonetheless.

—

There's a Thai tea sitting idly in front of you — vividly orange, sickly sweet. Eunchae is facing you on the couch, legs crossed. She's wearing a baby-blue shirt and a pair of snow-white shorts. Her back hunches a bit. The weight of expression on her face tells you that she's more than aware of the seriousness of the words you're about to say. Her hair is still a tad wet from the recent shower. There remains a soft whir of the heater working against the late spring cold. The room smells of spring-like air freshener — a redundancy to the atmosphere outside.

"I've been thinking," you start, attempting to express your state of mind you've had for the past six or so weeks to your situationship, but only an exhale leaves your lips.

"I think I want to keep you close," Eunchae says. The words come out rather airy and light, and the message is sent — an incomplete affection.

"I know," you reply with a weak smile, head falling down a bit. "I want to be close to you as well, but it's just," and you pause. The heaviness of the main confession dawns upon yourselves for a heartbeat. "Not like this."

You hear Eunchae breathe a tad louder against the whirring of the living room's heater. She shifts on the couch slightly. "Not that I haven't thought about us," Eunchae starts, looking at you sympathetically. You can feel it in her eyes, even if it's not quite what you've been chasing these past few weeks. "After your message, I kinda get the way you reacted after that."

i think i want more than

this

You stay silent in front of her, eyes on the leather of the couch, replaying the moment where you evaded her hand in the studio. Perhaps it was post-sex clarity. Perhaps it was contempt for yourself. Perhaps it was both.

Eunchae continues, "And I kind of realized that: I didn't think about your feelings enough."

(Off-screen realization: Maybe it works, maybe it doesn't. You appreciate the character growth, of course.)

"Wait, no," you stop her. "You set the boundaries clearly: labels, no kissing, just sex." You don't want her to take the blame just because your heart is weak. "I put myself through it."

"And you got hurt."

Her delivery isn't charged, not really, but the meaning is loaded enough for Eunchae to take a halt and move back a bit.

That's a brand new melody you've just discovered with Hong Eunchae:

She cares about you, at least more than you've thought.

You give her an utterly confused look before uttering, "You care about that?" Does she really care about your feelings? "About me?"

Eunchae scoffs lightly, not mocking. "You're a hypocritical, narcissistic asshole, but you're also an asshole I think about too much," she manages. You hear a soft sniffling sound from her. "I know that I'm not good at this — caring for someone. It took me, like, two years for me to start bonding with the girls off-camera."

You chuckle softly, and you mutter, "I'm fucking twenty-one, and I can't be half as good as you are at it. I'm, like, a shitty person."

"A shitty person that, again, I," and Eunchae pauses for another scoff. Her eyes are all glossy from the brimming tears. "Care about." She sniffles again, this time wiping the tears from her eyes as well.

With courage, you're the one who cups her face with your hand this time. Her flushed cheek warms against your palm. She looks at you with something that's almost a smile.

"I don't know if I can do this — this fucking," Eunchae utters shakily. You don't stop her tears running down her cheeks slowly with the pull of gravity. You just let her cry.

"I don't know either," you utter, "but I miss you — on the train, in the morning. I never know what to think about, and I think about you."

"Really?"

"Definitely, maybe."

Eunchae half-laughs, half-sniffles. "Fuckass."

You chuckle lightly, brushing your thumb on her cheek. A drop of tear smears your hand — warm. You smell her salty toothpaste coming from her mouth. She looks into your eyes — so teary and disarmed.

For you, there remain a few emotional loose ends to be tied, and they're so abundant in their nature, blighting your heart, withering your ability to maintain closeness. Still, with Eunchae, for the first time in your life, you seem ready to face them, to find happiness in your imperfect cadence together.

"I still hate labels," Eunchae whispers quaveringly. Then, a tiny smile appears on her lips. She's aware of your emotions — setting boundaries, a caveat, a warning. "But I know that," and a pensive exhale, "I'm saying this again: I want to keep you close."

You feel her heartbeat softly on the cheek. To sound similar to LLMs, they're small, persistent thumps against your hand, against the soft sounds from another planet (not sponsored) of the heater. She's still looking into your eyes, and to be honest, you can't read too much intent behind it aside from the tears and the slight dilation of her pupils. She wants you close, that's certain and overly looped. She has stripped off her defenses with you. She cares about you.

She just doesn't love you.

That's messy, really. It's incomplete. You've wrestled with the fact for weeks. You've teased with the probability that it might shatter your heart into little pieces after this, making your future discography become an expression of your own sorrow. It has been looming over you like that. That's ugly, really.

Yet you're willing to indulge in it somehow — this strange kind of love.

Corporeally, to ground the scene, your hand is still on Eunchae's cheek. She's sniffling softly against the soft whirring of the heater and the birds chirping outside. Tears fall from her eyes into your weak, under-worked palm. Your faces are so close to each other. Her breath mingles on your face tenderly — still salt. You don't move in for a kiss. It still feels wrong to be this close to her with all the unresolved feelings and definitions, but maybe just caring for her heart and craving her intimacy are already enough for now.

"Can I ask you something?" Eunchae breaks the silence, coincidentally at the time your train of thoughts comes to a halt. She reaches forward for the hem of your thin sweater, running her fingers behind the hem of it softly. Her knuckles graze against your skin — warm to the touch — and you shiver lightly, sucking in air through your teeth. Your logic is collapsing at her proximity again. And once more, you just let her demolish your integrity headquarters into rubble (atrocious imagery).

"You ready to kiss me now?" you scoff, though still half-expect her to say yes, even if the signposts aren't pointing towards that. The notes aren't complementing.

Eunchae lets out a discouraged sigh, gripping your sweater a tad tighter. The intent becomes even clearer now — just proximity, but not all of you. There's the hope of not yet, but it's barely flickering. One hand still on her face, you use the other to touch hers that's on your fabric. Eunchae flinches slightly, almost not believing the fact that you're rejecting her vicinity. Her grip on your cloth loosens a bit, and you're aware that seizing the moment is important — not letting her go, making her stay.

And it has to be on your own terms, not solely hers, not akin to the past. This shit is a duet.

You whisper, "Promise me one thing, Eunchae."

Eunchae gulps, and she chokes out, "What is it?"

"Try."

Succinct, direct, compact — that's your demand.

Eunchae stares at you blankly first, and you're almost scared of what she's about to say next.

But all that leaves her mouth are, and you don't get to process them, a smile, then a chuckle.

Your relationship with Eunchae has always been pretty solid and healthy, so that's why Yunjin thought her reaction would be the funniest one.

At first, you weren't sure about doing it because that's not how your relationship was. But after some persuasion from the redhead, you thought it would be funny.

It wasn't as if Eunchae wasn't used to the teasing from Yunjin and Sakura as unnies, but it would be different coming from you since you also suffer from the teasing of being one of the youngest in the group.

That's why the moment Eunchae left her room to sit on the dorm's couch, you jumped right at her. The girl giggled at the action and asked, "What are you doing?" She said with her big gummy smile.

"I'm testing your strength," you said, getting up. Eunchae started laughing at you and raised her eyebrows. "Really, is that it?"

"Yeah, I want to see if you're as strong as fearnots say," you told her while eyeing her up and down. She burst into laughter. "Well, am I?"

"Mmh.. I think so. I guess that's why you're such a loving maknae," you said with a smirk. "I think that's why everyone keeps saying 'maknae on top,' but you know, I think 'maknae on top of me' is better."

Eunchae's big eyes widened at your response, and you watched as her cheeks turned pink. You couldn't help but laugh at your attempt at teasing.

"Yn!" you heard Yunjin call, and heard some laughs in the background. Kazuha, Chaewon, Sakura, and Yunjin came out of the kitchen, laughing loudly.

You covered your face with embarrassment while you heard all of the laughs, until you felt someone's arms around you. Eunchae's.

"You think you're so funny," you heard her say with a teasing tone. "I know," you said.

You felt her hands around yours, and she took your hands out of your face, forcing you to make eye contact with the smiley girl. "You're only months older than me," she said with a pout.

"Yeah, but I couldn't help myself," you said with a smirk. "Actually, you should be thankful." The girl raised her eyebrows in confusion.

"This was the best joke I could think of," you heard the laughs of the girls in the background. "I had one of you being a 'smiley potato,' so..."

"OMG," you heard Sakura's voice, followed by another burst of laughter. "Girl," said Yunjin.

You gave Eunchae a 'save me, please' look. Eunchae laughed at your face and thought you were the cutest girl. "Okay, guys, enough. Leave her alone. I think her saying that joke out loud is punishment enough," she called.

The girls nodded once they calmed down and just smiled, saying they were going to start making dinner.

"Thanks," you said, smiling at the girl. "Woah, they really listened at the first call. That's weird," you said. "I know, right? I guess I'm really becoming a respectable maknae on top," she said, raising her brows with a smirk.

"Maybe. Wait, if you're being the top, does that mean I'm the bottom?" you said.

Eunchae burst into laughter at the comment and hit your arm softly.

"Okay, I'm sorry! And you're right, between us, I'm the better top," you said, teasing her.

She just rolled her eyes and smiled at you.

"We can discuss it later. Now, I'm starving," the girl said, taking your hand and walking towards the kitchen.

"Later as in the night alone in your room? Wow, Hong Eunchae, you're really going for the top."

"Yn!"