#tmiy

Working late, can’t FaceTime. You ok? 

Yeah. Just settled into the hotel hoping we could talk. No biggie. I’ll call you after the show tomorrow. 

Break a leg, Ji. 🖤

Not funny considering.

It means good luck. Don’t actually break your leg. We don’t need you being more whiny and annoying than you already are. 

I hate you. 

I know. Gotta go. 

Jiyong frowned as he read your text, it wasn’t like you to ignore a FaceTime or rush him off the phone. Something was up. Maybe you had a date and just didn’t want to tell him. He had always been your harshest critic when it came to the guys you dated. But he had to look out for you and Yo-na now, so it was only fair he found all their weaknesses and brought them to light before you or her got too attached. 

∘•···············•∘ʚ ♡ ɞ∘•················•∘

Jiyong sat in his dressing room, putting the final touches on his sound check look. This was probably his favorite part of the shows, getting to be more dressed down and relaxed before putting on a show. He just wasn’t really feeling it tonight. He’d tried to call you as was his pre show ritual at this point and had gone straight to voicemail.

He reluctantly made his say to the stage, trying his best to cheer up before his music started. He knew the fans would bring the energy but he didn’t want to feel too off. The music hit and he let out a sigh, cracking his neck and rolling his shoulders before making his way out. 

You had somehow managed to get front row barricade for sound check, something you were sure you wouldn’t have for the show itself. That was fine, as long as Yu-na got to see him up close even for just twenty minutes. 

“G-dada!” Yu-na squealed as the lights went down and the music started. 

“Dragon.” You corrected with a laugh as you placed her on your shoulders. 

It would’ve been a dick move if you’d been taller but your short frame and her shorter body wouldn’t be getting in anyone’s way. You grinned when you saw your best friend take the stage, the suit he was wearing looked really good on him and your heart skipped a beat as he started up the chorus of Bonamana. 

Jiyong walked around the stage, his eyes cast down as he sang to the crowd. His hand coming up to scratch his head through his hat. As the music came to a stop he heard a faint scream of ‘Dad’ and just as he was about to correct whatever fan was calling him that he heard it again, louder. He knew that voice. 

“G-dada!” Yu-na yelled, her hands clapping together excitedly. 

Jiyong’s head whipped around until he found you both. A grin spreading across his face when his eyes met yours. He waved at Yu-na before making his way down the stage. You were here. Both of his girls were here. He stopped in front of you as the next song started up and he smirked at you before he carefully took your daughter from your arms. 

He carried her around as he finished up sound check and then pointed you out to Jaeho before waving goodbye to the crowd and heading backstage, Yu-na still in his arms. Jaeho came and got you a few seconds later. 

“You can’t just kidnap my daughter, Ji!” You yelled as you entered his sitting room. 

“It’s not kidnapping if you’re still here.” Jiyong held Yu-na closer to him, afraid you’d take her away. “Can’t believe you’re here.” 

“Yeah well. I tried to go to Seoul but it sold out in five minutes, this was the best I could do.” You shrugged, a smirk on your lips. “I missed you.” 

“Yeah, you too.” It came out nonchalant, but he had really missed you. 

Ever since your work had transferred you to the New York office, you didn’t get to talk as much. Only saw each other on the lame holidays. It was stupid. If he had it his way you two would be together, Yu-na would be his daughter and you’d be set for life. Never having to go to New York unless you wanted to. 

“Give me my daughter so we can go fight for good seats again.” You held your arms out and Jiyong shook his head. 

“No.” 

“Don’t you have to get ready?” He glared at you, handing Yu-na back to you after he placed a kiss on her cheek. 

“You’ll watch from the box. You’re not holding her for three hours. I’ll have one of the staff escort you up.” 

“You don’t have to do that, Ji.” 

“Yes I do.” He rolled his eyes. He knew how crazy the front row got and he wouldn’t be able to put on a good show if he was worried about you the whole time. “And then you both come back here right after.” 

“Okay, calm down grandma.” You teased, leaning over to kiss his cheek. “I’ll see you after. Don’t do anything stupid.” 

Jiyong snorted, the grin staying on his face as you left the room.  Once you were in the suite, you put Yu-na down letting her run around the semi-empty space. You were in the close friends and family box and the only people in there had been his family, which worked out great because Yu-na had a friend, and so did you. 

You spent the next hour catching up with Jiyong’s family before the opening of Power had started up. You’d of course seen the show through crappy live feeds in Korea but nothing compared to being there in person. Ji had a way of commanding the stage and even if he was still struggling to turn on G-Dragon he was still hot as hell on that stage.

You shook those thoughts from your head, you didn’t have time to think of him that way. He’d been your best friend your whole life, you couldn’t complicate that. It was already weird enough that Yu-na was calling him dad. You’d tried to laugh it off when his mom had heard it, saying dragon was hard to say. But she knew. She’d always known, had wanted you two to end up together years ago. 

The way he cared for your daughter like she was his really should be enough to make you want to tell him how you felt. But in your eyes, just because he loved your daughter didn’t mean he loved you or wanted to be with you. 

The family sat in the box after the show was over, giving Jiyong time to change to greet his fans before you were escorted backstage. Handing a now sleeping Yu-na to Jiyong’s mom, you walked off, finding your way to the send off crowd, you had paid for these tickets after all, and filtered in with the crowd just as Ji made his way out. 

You couldn’t help but laugh as he avoided shaking hands with fans, staying just out of reach as they continued to yell for more. He spotted you, realizing you were alone and raised a brow. You gestured she was asleep and he nodded as he made his way over to you. 

“So, what did you think?” He smirked. 

“Hm. Could’ve been better.” He laughed, shaking his head. 

“Move over by Jaeho.” You nodded as he walked off to thank the crowd, giving you time to make your way to the exit.

Jaeho smiled at you and moved aside to let you stand just inside the roped off area. Everyone was paying too much attention to Jiyong to notice you. As he turned the corner his hand found yours, entwining your fingers together as he led you backstage. 

“What did you really think?” You rolled your eyes before turning your head slightly to face him. 

“You were amazing. You’re always amazing.” Jiyong smirked and you nudged his side. Leave it to him to fish for compliments after being cheered and praised for the last three hours. 

You two entered the room and Jiyong let go of your hand, walking up to your sleeping daughter. He rolled his shoulders before carefully taking him from his mom. His assistant had already packed up his things, Jaeho taking them from her before leading the group outside.

“Where are you staying?” Jiyong whispered, trying not to wake up Yu-na. 

“Oh, some motel down the street.” You saw the look he gave you and sighed. “That was all that was left.” 

“Yeah, you’re staying with me. Give Tiger your room key and he’ll go get your things.” 

There was no sense in arguing with him, once his mind was made up that was it. You sighed and fished around in your bag for the key, handing it to Jaeho. He nodded after you told him the name of the place and the room number. Thankfully you hadn’t had a chance to unpack before you’d headed to the venue. 

Jiyong led you to his room once you were safely back at his hotel. His family was staying in the same hotel in a suite on a different floor. It was nice seeing him travel around the world with his parents this time around. He was a different Jiyong than the one you’d seen on tour all those years ago. He held Yu-na, refusing to let her go until she had a bed of her own to sleep in. The sight of him holding your daughter while he fought sleep himself warmed your heart. You weren’t sure how you’d gotten so lucky to have a best friend like him. He had been your biggest support system when Yu-na’s dad had left you both, there were many a nights you weren’t sure you’d make it through, but he’d always been there.

“Do you ever think about how this could’ve been us?” His voice was low, and you shrugged. 

“In a way it kind of is.” There was a slight knock at the door before Jaeho opened it up, bags in hand. 

You stood up to retrieve the items, thanking him for his help. He nodded and left the room.  Jiyong handed you Yu-na and you excused yourself to get her changed and ready for bed. Once she was safely asleep in the other room you plopped yourself down next to your best friend. Your eyes closed as you leaned your head back on the couch.

“It’s not the same.” 

“Hm?”

“I’m in your life as your friend, but I’ve always wanted more.” You opened your eyes, turning your head to look at him.

“Ji, you know we can’t.” You sighed.

“Why not?” 

“Because of Yu-na.”

“She calls me Dad.”  You sat up fully, your eyes locked on his.

“Exactly. And if we broke up we wouldn’t have you anymore. She would never understand why you aren’t around.”  

“Are you serious right now?” You nodded. His hand moved, cupping your cheek and you resisted the urge to lean into his touch. “If I had you I’d never let you go.” 

“Ji-”

“I’m serious. I want this with you. I’ve always wanted this with you. I love you. I love Yu-na like she was my own daughter. Let’s try.” 

You nodded and that was all Jiyong needed before his mouth was on yours. The kiss was full of desperation, your hand gripping his shirt tightly, like if you let go this might’ve all been a dream. Jiyong’s hand stayed on your face, cupping your cheek gently as he poured years of love into the kiss.

He’d meant every word of what he’d said. Now that he had you, he was never going to let you go. He pulled back slightly, your foreheads resting together, a small smile on his face. Your eyes fluttered open, your lips slightly parted as you caught your breath. 

“Say it back.” He whispered, causing you to laugh.

“I love you too.”

All Sophia can think is “this can’t be happening”. She just wants to wake up, like this is some kind of demented version of reality and she’s not staring at a eulogy she doesn’t want to give for a person she wishes wasn’t gone. For a girl who can’t be gone. There’s no way you’re gone right? She saw you just last night, at the convenience store. Except that was just someone she’s never seen before wearing the same shoes you leave, left, by the door after rehearsal and this really is happening. She remembers feeling betrayed by the couple laughing on the sidewalk because didn’t they know? Didn’t they know her girl was gone? Didn’t they know that this was all real? Her tears feel real. Her body feels real. The memories of the last week feel real but none of it makes sense. 

It doesn’t make sense that you were laughing, talking, smiling with them after the show just a week ago and now they’re here and you’re so still. Sophia regrets every single time she’d asked you to stop tapping your pen because right now she would give anything to hear the click-click if it meant you were the one clicking it. Except you’ll never click it again because she had ignored the way her phone had buzzed and maybe there was nothing she could have done but maybe there was. Maybe if she had called. Maybe if she had never let you leave. Maybe if she had gone with you she would’ve been driving and you would still be here and she wouldn’t have to feel like this. 

Sophia can remember it so clearly. Your shoes scuffing as you toed open the door. The jingle of your keys in your hand, the little Tamagotchi Yoonchae had given you for your birthday shining in the living room light. You were only going to be gone for an hour, “less than that, Soph. I’ll be fine I swear. You have my location and you track me on my way home.” Except you never made it back. You never made it back and you’ll never exist in their house again and the walls feel so empty Sophia feels like she’s going to suffocate. The worst part, Sophia thinks, is that she believed you. She got the Life 360 notification, the red little SOS that said you were in danger. Then she got the text. Small crash, it’s okay. Don’t panic. Love you Phia. And Sophia had put her phone down because she had been in the middle of something and hadn’t picked it back up again until Missy called fifteen minutes later. Why hadn’t she picked it back up? Why didn’t she call? What if you thought she didn’t care? 

The only words she remembers from that conversation were “you need to come now” and “I think it’s bad Sophia”. She doesn’t remember the drive, doesn’t remember rushing into the E.R. All Sophia remembers are the tear tracks on Missy’s face and the way Daniela had screamed and the words “drunk driver” and trying not to let herself crumple to the floor. It doesn’t make sense. You had said you were okay. Your last words had been “Love you, Phia.” Phia. Her name. Your last word. The shortened version that you murmured when you were sleepy in the middle of the night. When you knew you were safe. Except you had said it when you were probably so scared and so alone and Sophia doesn’t deserve that title ever again because her baby had been alone. She had asked the doctor that night and she’s not sure what she was expecting to get out of it but his “she wouldn’t have felt it. She would have been in shock until she was unconscious” really doesn’t make her feel any better because that meant you hadn’t known. That meant that if she called, if she had just gotten in the car to get to you maybe she could’ve at least held your hand. She had promised that you would never be alone again and maybe, just maybe if she prays hard enough she could go back in time. She remembers hot tears and shaky hands and Dani’s tiny voice asking “Can I see her?” and the way it felt like the doctor was mocking her as he shook his head. 

“She’s in rough shape, you won’t want to see her like this. The funeral home can do a reconstruction, I’m so sorry.” Sophia remembers the overwhelming urge to punch him in the face because there is no world in which you are not beautiful to them and how dare they keep her from her baby? There were a lot of “I’m so sorry”s that week. Missy’s. Leon’s. Her mom’s. God, her mom’s. She remembers making that phone call, remembers having to listen to Dani make that phone call. The way Ana had thought it was a joke. It felt like a joke, watching Daniela cradle her beloved stuffed puppy on the way to the funeral home. The way her heart had cracked and spilled down her face again when she pressed the worn fluff into some stranger's hands with the promise that he’ll fold your fingers around it. She can’t be alone, she has nightmares, she needs to know that I’m still gonna catch her, Dani had cried and Sophia’s not sure she’ll ever be able to put her heart back together again. She remembers the way Dani had sobbed and twisted her body around Atlas’s in your bed. The way the little dog had spent most afternoons whining and crying at the door, not understanding where his girl was. Yoonchae had laid one of your shirts over his little bed that Lara had helped you pick out and tried to soothe the poor guy into getting some sleep and the gut-punch they all felt every time the door opened and his tail had wagged so hard before he realized it wasn’t you. That it will never be you. That he’ll never understand why you walked out the door one day and didn’t come back for him. She walked in on Yoonchae kneeling next to him in the doorway, running her fingers over his ears, whispering wetly. She had caught the words “it wasn’t her choice” and “she loved you so much buddy” and Sophia doesn’t know if Yoonchae is trying to soothe him or herself. 

Sophia wished it was a joke, that this was some sick prank, but the feeling that something was gone had stuck to her skin couldn’t be washed off even with the shower turned up as high as it could go. Manon had pulled her out of the shower more than once that week, her skin all red and her tears still falling, and Sophia hadn’t even cared because she was supposed to be the leader of seven, not six. She remembers the way Megan had cried herself to sleep only to wake up and look over at the empty bed and remember it all over again. The way the dancer had run her fingers over your little name plate on their door, pressing her lips to the letters. Remembers the way Lara’s mom had come in to your room and had tried to throw out the Starbucks cup that still sat on your nightstand and the way Lara had snapped at her because it was still your cup and maybe if she just went to sleep she could will you to come back and throw it away yourself. 

Kavita had left it, had just laid down with her daughter and let her sob, and Sophia had to walk away because there was nothing she could and she had never felt so powerless and then she remembered the way that you had never been held the way Lara was and you were gone and there were still things Sophia didn’t know. She didn’t know what street you grew up on or what your favorite shape was and now she would never know and now she’s staring at the spot on the grass where there isn’t a headstone yet but there will be one and she has to pick what it's going to say and Sophia doesn’t want it to say anything at all. 

Someone calls for her and its her turn to speak, and her throat gets tighter and tighter and she can’t tear her eyes away from Megan’s tear streaked face and it’s almost like she can hear your voice calling her which she thinks is just a very cruel trick except your voice is getting louder and louder and she opens her eyes and its dark. She blinks once, twice, and then a face is peeking into her field of vision. It’s your face, which stills Sophia’s heart again because you were so dead and it was so real one second ago. 

“Phia, Sophia, you have to breathe. Shhhh, honey.” Your fingers tap on her face, warm and soft and alive and Sophia tries to breathe around the pit in her chest. Her hands fly up to your face, harsher than she intended, and the tips of her fingers collide with your cheeks as she struggles to sit up on what she’s realizing is the couch. 

“Phia, Phia, hey. Whoa, hey. Take a deep breath. Yeah, in through your nose.” You're kneeling next to where she must’ve fallen asleep, on the ground by the couch, blinking and breathing, scrambling to your feet to help her sit up. For the first time in her life, Sophia listens to the comfort because it all felt so real and her tears were real and the way she’s gasping for breath is real. Your hands cup her face, her fingers fist into your sleepshirt and Sophia hiccups with the weight of her sobs. It’s a little jarring to watch your carefully composed leader cry so freely, and you can feel how her pulse is stuttering beneath her sweat-soaked sleep shirt which is wrong on so many levels because there’s no world in which your leader deserves to be attacked by her own mind  in the middle of the night. 

“You’re okay. You’re okay, honey. I got you.” You shift to sit on the couch next to her, pulling her face into your chest, the rest of her body unspooling itself in your lap. Her arms are tight, too tight, around your ribs, and she squeezes like she’s afraid you’re going to disappear. Like there’s a world in which you’re not there when she wakes up. You cradle her head and let her cry, wiping her tears with your palm, not caring how wet your shirt gets. Her breathing is still wet and stuttery, her pulse still racing, and you wonder if this is how she feels in the middle of the night when Megan or Lara go to get her for you. Then you realize that the only reason you found her sobbing, whimpering body on the couch was because you had come downstairs to get a glass of water and what if no one had found her? What if she had woken up more scared then you’ve ever seen all alone? You know how that feels, how hard it is to orient yourself in reality all on your own and your heart cracks. 

Minutes tick by, or maybe hours, you don’t know and you don’t really care. All you care about is the fact that Sophia’s sobs slow, her body loosens, and her head tilts up to look at your face. You hope your eyes are as comforting as hers are when it’s you doing the sobbing and shaking in the middle of the night. 

“You’re okay?” Her voice is raspy, hoarse like she’s been crying for a long while. 

“I’m okay. Everyone else is upstairs and asleep. You’re safe honey.” Her body tightens again, her spine straightening as she picks herself off your chest, her eyes meeting yours, one of your hands reaching up to smooth over her hairline. 

“You didn’t-I thought-you were-” She voice trembles as your heart cracks. 

“I’m right here Fia. Whatever it is, I’m okay, it was just a bad dream.” She nods, her eyes still scanning your face, like she’s trying to make sure you’re actually right there in front of her. One of her palms lands flat against your chest, your heartbeat steady under her still shaky fingers, and Sophia’s breathes a little easier. A little. The image of the hospital and the graveyard and your empty bed is still fading but your body is warm and soft and okay. She’s okay. 

“What’s your favorite shape?” She whispers, watching as confusion colors your features. 

“Uhhh, stars I guess. I like stars. Sophia, why?” A new wave of tears spills from Sophia’s bloodshot eyes, your thumbs quick to wipe them away. 

“I didn’t know. I didn’t know what your favorite shape was or what street you grew up on or the name of your first crush or where you had your first kiss and there was so much that I didn’t know and then you were gone. You were gone, Ace.” She whimpers and the dots connect in your mind. Her questions, her hand against your chest, the way she had squeezed your ribs. She thought you were dead. 

“I’m not gone, honey. I’m right here. I’m right here, do you feel me?” Your palm soothes over hers where it’s still flat against your chest and she nods weakly. “I grew up on Elm Street. My first crush was Fiona in sixth grade, okay? I had my first kiss behind a diner in my hometown. But Phia, none of that matters.” She opens her mouth to protest, her tears still falling. 

“You knew I loved you, right?” She nods, you swallow the lump rising in your throat because this is her turn to be comforted not yours. “And you knew you loved me, right?” Another, more forceful nod. “That’s what matters, Phia. Even if it was all true, I would have died loved.” She hiccups again, wiping her own tears with her sleeve. 

“I don’t want you to be gone. I want to know. All the things, everything.” She whimpers, sounding so much like Yoonchae your heart does a little flip, warmth and sadness building in your gut. 

“I’m not gone. I’m right here, Phia. You have me. You can know anything you want.” You’re so caught up in comforting her, soothing away the pain, that you almost miss the way you actually mean that sentence. Almost. Maybe you’ll right it down and text it to your therapist. Or maybe you’ll just sit with Sophia for as long as she needs, as long as she’ll have you. You twist so your shoulders touch, her head falling onto the soft skin under the cotton. Its the most you’ve ever seen Sophia really let herself be truly vulnerable, much less seek comfort and you wonder briefly if snaking an arm around her shoulders was too much until you feel the tight muscles of her upper back loosen under the weight. One of her hands intertwines with yours, squeezing your fingers tightly, and she doesn’t scold you for propping your socked feet up on the coffee table. “You have me, honey.” You whisper into her hair, pressing your lips to her hairline. 

“Tell me more things.” She grumbles like a petulant toddler, sleep already beginning to color her voice again. 

“Um. Okay. I, uh, before I wanted to be an idol I wanted to be an astronaut so I could discover my own Pandora, the planet in Avatar-”

“I know what Pandora is.” She yawns and you pause for a second, blinking away the tears that have pricked into your eyes and reveling in the warm happy feeling settling in your skin. 

“Oh. Okay. I, uh, I wanted to go really bad but I suck at math so hard that I nearly had to repeat third grade.” She giggles sleepily, the vibrations reverberating in your chest. “I think my favorite animal might be the pigeon, I tried to build a replica of the Golden Gate Bridge in my friend’s backyard out of paper towel tubes when we were seven.” You talk at her softly, cooing and whispering until you feel her breathing even out and watch her eyes slip shut. The tear tracks have been dried, the redness around her eyes fading, but you can’t get the image of her distress out of your head. How sad she was at the thought that you were gone. You smooth your hand over the back of her head, realising that you fit. Your hand fits perfectly against shiny black hair, your body fits against Daniela’s in the middle of your own nightmares. Your mug fits next to Manon’s, your watercolors belong next to Yoonchae’s pencils downstairs. Your bed, your clothes, your photos, decorations, they fit with Lara’s and Megan’s in your room. Your hand fits into Sophia’s. You belong in their hearts. Without having to break pieces off, or chip away little chunks that just get bigger and bigger. Without having to create space, to fill a void that says you’re not good enough. You just belong. Yeah, you belong. 

a/n: soooo....uh.... hey guys. how we feeling? i know i'm doing fantastic :)

✧˖° the list (open)°˖✧

You’ve all had a week from hell. Between rehearsals to interviews to photo shoots to god-knows-what, Manon has maybe gotten four hours of sleep a night. Maybe. And she can trust that when she closes her eyes, the likelihood of her waking up in a panic in the middle of the night is relatively low. The same can not be said for you, which is only amplified by the fact that a certain Latina dancer had flown back to Atlanta a few days ago to celebrate her abuelo’s birthday. The distance is going about as well as the older girl expected and as you shuffle into the kitchen at seven on Saturday morning, shoulders tight and fingers shaky, it takes everything in Manon to sip her coffee and not get up from her spot at the kitchen table to usher you back upstairs and tuck you back into bed or call Dani. She would, if she thought it would do anything, if she thought that her presence or her words or even a spell would cast away the demons she knows sneak up on you. The visual watches her leader take in the way you’re trying to force your fingertips to stop trembling and dark, sad eyes meet Manon’s from halfway across the kitchen. 

“Morning, mahal.” Sophia’s voice is sugar-sweet as you offer her a smile that's too weak for Manon’s liking. 

“Morning Soph.” You offer her a small side hug before Manon hears the soft pop of the fridge opening and the tell-tale crack of a Redbull can. She makes eye contact with Sophia, who surprisingly doesn’t say anything, instead reaching down to scratch one of Atlas’s velvety-soft ears. 

“You sleep okay?” The eldest girl's voice is still sleep-soft and husky, her stomach flipping as you nod. You both know it's a lie, your eyes darting to the floor as you pretend to check your phone. 

“Ace, you don’t-”

“I’m going for a run.” Your voice slices through her soft words as you tear your eyes away from your phone. “I’m going for a run, do you want to come?” She shakes her head, turning to meet Sophia’s softened expression. If this had been four months ago, Manon would have shrugged it off. Would have taken your smile as genuine and the way you brush her softness off as signs of tiredness, but now she knows that neither of those things are true and a growing sense of helplessness creeps up her spine as she watches you lace up your sneakers and usher Atlas out the door.  

“Ace, honey?” The leader calls as the front door swings open. 

“Yeah?”

“Be safe!” They both watch you smile, and blow them each a playful kiss before the door shuts with a resounding click. Sophia sighs, opening one of the cabinet doors with a weary creak. 

“I’m making muffins. Want to help?” Manon smiles and nods, rolling up her sleeves and praying the flour decides to stay on the counter instead of finding its way up onto her skin. 

Baking with Sophia has always been easy for Manon and ever since that first week in the KATSEYE house, they’ve tried to put away a precious couple of hours to bump into each other and smile and sing and giggle in the kitchen. It’s a good stress reliever for both of them, and it’s so easy to get lost in the rumble of the mixer and Sophia’s gentle hum that they almost miss the front door opening again. Your face is flushed, your skin shiny with sweat, but when Manon takes a closer look there are no tears, no evidence that you had a quiet breakdown and didn’t call for help. Good, the older girl thinks. This is good. 

They listen to the shower turn on, then off, then footsteps upstairs before Manon hears the sound of socked feet on hardwood stairs and scritch-scratch of paws on the kitchen tile before both girls turn to watch you flop down onto the couch at nine in the morning. In the back of her head, Manon wishes that you would just close your eyes and drift off into dreamland, wants to snatch the remote out of your hands and put on one of those nature documentaries that have Megan and Yoonchae asleep within the first fifteen minutes. She knows it wouldn’t work, that you would soak up every little bit of knowledge like a sponge and instead of coaxing you to sleep they would be hearing about symbiotic relationships and pufferfish for weeks.

Lara and Megan appear in the kitchen a little after ten, both still groggy, rubbing their eyes and complaining about how bright the chandelier is and how loud the coffee maker-dishwasher combo is. Manon can’t help the smirk that plays on her face as she watches the two of them try to nurse what appear to be killer hangovers. Sophia cocks a lovingly judgemental eyebrow before she coaxes the Keurig into whirring back to life as Lara drops like a stone onto the wooden chair across from the eldest girl. Both older girls start gently poking for details of their night out, Manon’s questions more along the lines of “kiss anyone cute?” while she watches Sophia fight the urge to throw her a death glare. Megan giggles and blushes, which means she definitely did kiss someone cute and Manon will have to interrogate her further, but when Manon’s gaze shifts to Lara, the Indian’s eyes have narrowed and her mouth has been drawn into a thin line. 

The older girl turns her head, tracking her vision to where it lands squarely on the back of your head where you sit on the couch. 

“She’s not sleeping.” Lara whispers lowly, ducking her head down like they’re discussing some kind of confidential mission. 

“Yeah, we can tell.” Manon’s eyes are still trained on the back of your hair, watching as you flip through channels on the T.V. 

“No, like, she’s really not sleeping. We got back at what, four in the morning?” Megan nods as she sips, her fingers cradling the mug, both girls avoiding Sophia’s cocked eyebrow, blush spreading across their cheeks. “She was still awake. And we both took naps in the middle of the afternoon after rehearsal.” Sophia hums, drumming her acrylics against the marble of the kitchen counter. 

“Sophia, I think she’s afraid to go to sleep.” That stops both older girls in their tracks, their heads slowly turning to meet the Indian’s eyes. “I know her nightmares have been brutal and I think she’s freaking herself out about them before they can even happen.” Sophia sighs, one of her hands running through her hair. 

“What do you mean?” The leader asks, soft but firm. 

“She’s been getting anxious when we go to bed, she hasn’t said anything but Atlas keeps signaling to her. She doesn’t lie down when she usually would, and there’s no way she’s not tired.” Manon sighs at Lara’s words, her nails fiddling with the end of one of her braids. 

“Why didn’t you come and get me?” The leader asks and all three of them can sense the self-doubt already creeping into Sophia’s voice. 

“Atlas was calming her down, and we didn’t want to make it worse by making it a big thing. She’s overtired, we’ve all been exhausted all week. We thought that it was maybe just stress about work or interviews, that it would go away last night. Yet, here we are.” Four sets of eyes zero in on the back of your head from where you sit on the couch, oblivious to the conversation happening just twenty feet away. 

“What time did she come down here this morning?” Megan asks, swirling her mug around, trying to dissolve all the bits of sugar she hates getting stuck at the bottom. 

“Seven.” Manon sighs as both Megan and Lara’s eyes widen. 

“If she was up with us at four that means that she’s-”

“Had at most three hours of sleep.” The older girl finishes Megan’s sentence, her eyes flicking to their leader who pales slightly. “We can’t just force her to go back to bed because she just won’t sleep. We need something to make her more sleepy but also feel safe, y’know?” Lara can practically see the lightbulb that goes off over Manon’s head. 

“What if we just drag her around the mall for an afternoon? She likes the car, the mall is tiring, it could work.” 

“The mall is also loud and full of people. She’s already exhausted and bound to be sensitive, we could be walking her right into a panic attack.” “We’ll have her headphones, we’ll have Atlas. We can just turn around and walk out if it gets too much. Soph, I really think this could work.” Manon lets her gaze drift back over to the couch, watching Atlas’s tail wag as one of your hands scratches gently over the top of his head. “She needs to sleep and she literally never asks for anything. Maybe being so tired means she’ll let us buy her stuff.” Sophia perks up a little at that, out of all the girls you were the hardest to spoil, no matter how much money Sophia was willing to throw at a problem. The leader’s eyes find Lara’s hopeful smile and the glint in Megan’s eyes before finally, finally nodding. 

“Okay. Okay. Only if she goes willingly. We want her to feel safe and if this isn’t the way to do it, this isn’t the way to do it.” Manon nods, wincing as she stands up too fast and her chair screeches against the floor. 

“I’ll ask her, okay? I won’t push too hard.” The older girl turns, her footsteps soft but deliberately audible, trying her hardest not to startle you. She’s mostly successful, her gentle “Hey Ace” still causing you head to whip around, but without any sign of panic or fear in your eyes. Its a good sign, Manon thinks. She drapes her hands over your shoulders, smiling fondly as you tilt your head back to lean against her stomach. 

“Do you want to go to the mall with me and Soph?” She whispers softly, hoping, praying you’ll say yes. That you’ll just go and let them care the way they so desperately want to. “It’s going to be low-key. Casual. No rush, no interviews, no workouts. You, me, Soph, and the boy going shopping just because we can.” Her heart sinks as she watches you squirm, your shoulders already tightening. 

“You don’t have to say yes. We’re not on a schedule and we would be able to leave whenever you wanted.” You feel the warm brush of her lips against your temple, a soft, grounding gesture. 

“We could leave whenever I want?” You ask, looking up at her with those fishbowl eyes that make her fold in seconds. 

“Whenever you want, babygirl.” She affirms, moving to run her fingers through the little tangles in your hair. 

“Okay.” You whisper, like it's some kind of confidential secret.

“Okay?” She whispers back, excitement coloring her voice. She smiles as you nod, watching as you stand from the couch to scamper up the stairs, Atlas thumping along after you.

All three of you are ready in record time. Well, four, if you count Atlas, which Manon definitely does. It’s casual like she said it would be, light makeup, you in a T-shirt, both of them wearing hoodies. All three of you wearing black surgical facemasks like that will stop you from getting recognized. They take Sophia’s car, rolling the window down just enough so that all the fur on Atlas’s face gets a little smushed as he sticks his head out the window, showtunes blasting loud enough the metal frame is nearly shaking. You’re all joking and laughing and the glimpses of your real smile, not your fake interview smile that seems to come out so often these days, that Manon catches in the rearview mirror is a sight that makes the edges of Manon’s heart feel all fuzzy.

The mall is busy, not too busy that Manon wants to turn around and go home, but busy enough that she keeps throwing small side glances your way, trying to be as discreet as she possibly can to make sure this is not about to backfire in her face. They window shop for a bit, poking around Sephora aisles and into that one soap store that Sophia loves that Manon thinks smells like someone melted every candle in the world together.  Little clusters of people stop you in a way that will never get old for Manon. Little girls, teenagers, boys with spiky hair that might be older than her sister going “Are you KATSEYE?”. Getting to say yes, to sign autographs and then carry on quietly. Manon keeps her eyes lowered, making sure no one steps too close to Atlas or tries to run their hands directly over the ‘DO NOT PET’ badges on his vest. 

They venture deeper into the mall, through Lush and Bath and Body Works and Sophia’s beloved L’Occitane. She watches Sophia threaten to smear some weird smelling lotion on you and you stick your tongue out at her as you back away laughing and she thinks that they don’t do this enough. Or maybe they do and Manon will never take it for granted. 

It seems their plan is working, your footsteps gradually getting a little heavier, your shoulders loosening slightly as the sun moves across the sky. They don’t really get very far on the “catch her while she’s off guard and buy her stuff” front, but they do manage to get at least a  little further than they might have otherwise. You end up with a couple new pieces of gear for Atlas, a couple of T-shirts you had looked at for too long to not want, and an increasingly sleepy smile, which Manon counts as a win, the exhaustion starting to weigh on her, too. It’s nearly nightfall by the time Sophia insists they’re almost done, that there’s just one more store she wants to look in before they can go home and put you to bed. Neither girl says that last part out loud, but they catch each other’s eyes a couple of times, pupils shining with anticipatory victory. 

They end up outside the Jellycat outlet, and its the first time all day that you hesitate, which immediately sets alarm bells off for both Manon and Sophia. 

“Isn’t this a store for children?” You ask, eyebrow cocked playfully as all four of you cross the threshold into what appears to be Sophia’s paradise. 

“Not really. They make stuffies of all sorts of things! Look!” She holds up what appears to be a plush tennis ball, complete with little arms and legs and a sewn-on smiley face. “See, Atlas would love it.” You shake your head and smile, trying to push the little coils of dread out of your stomach. It's been a really long time since you’d been encouraged to even look at a stuffed animal in person, much less hold one. So what if you spent a little too long gazing at the plushes that littered Megan’s bed? You weren’t a child. You didn’t need it. You hadn’t needed one since your mom had declared you were too old for such childish things when you were ten, and no one needed to know about the countless tears you had cried hoping, wishing to hold your stuffed dog one more time. They especially didn’t need to know right now, but the way both Sophia and Manon are staring at you means they’re trying to carve out their little window into your soul and today has been so good and you are not about to fuck it up with stupid tears about a stuffed animal that was long gone. 

“You good, honey?” Manon asks, a perfect blend of playful and concerned and you nod, which is less convincing than you hoped it would be because Atlas nudges your palm with his nose. 

“You sure? We can go, or if you need a minute alone, that’s okay too.” You shake your head, twisting your fingers around the little tufts of fur at the very top of Atlas’s head. You breathe slowly, carefully, for a minute before you smile at them a lot more genuinely than you had moments ago. Sophia beams with pride, her hand tangling into yours to pull you deeper into the store. She’s not looking for anything specific, not really, but Sophia really does just like to wander amongst the plushies, admiring the little animals and birds, and even a little coffee bean keychain she considers buying for Dani. She’s about to say that they can leave, that they’re all good, but when she turns around to catch your attention, your eyes seem to be focused on a little shelf tucked away into the corner of the store. Manon tucks herself behind you, resting her chin on one of your shoulders.

“See anything you like?” The way your cheeks instantly flare crimson and they way you shake your head tells the older girl that they are walking into treacherous waters, which she doesn’t really understand because it's just a stuffed animal. She goes back through your room in her mind, remembering the cups that scatter across the top of Megan’s dresser and the blankets that remain perpetually twisted on your bed. Then she thinks about your mother’s glare and the fact she’s seen maybe three photos of you as a kid, and the suddenly glaring lack of little stuffed animals that would probably bring you some comfort. Then she thinks about calling your cousin for your mom’s number, or better yet, an address. She feels you tense beside her and suddenly Atlas is nudging his nose to her palm, signally that she needs to step in. 

“No, uh, no. Lets just go.” You turn sharply, seemingly not expecting how close the older girl is standing because you’re body is suddenly being swept into her arms. 

“Breathe, lovey.” She whispers, slowing her own lungs down so you can match her rhythm. She watches you rub your knuckles on the top of Atlas’s head and consciously take big, gulping breaths and if Manon didn’t think it would set you off, she would point out just how much progress you’ve made in a few short months. Instead she tucks a little strand of hair behind your ear and squeezes you tighter for a second before letting go, her attention fixed on the little shelf that had captured your gaze. 

There are a bunch of elephants, different textures and colors and sizes, and she’s almost tempted to throw a wild shot in the dark and grab one of the purple ones, until she sees the little purple scrap of fabric poking out from the bottom shelf. A little purple sits a little bent, a little lopsided, the only one that didn’t match. That was just a little bit different from the rest. The only one that didn’t fit. Manon drops down to scoop it up, feeling the limp wait in her hands. 

“That would look good on your bed, yeah?” She asks, light but not teasing. Sophia waltzes back over, the older girl praying she can read the shy look on your face and softness that sits between them. 

“A little hippo! Oh my god he’s adorable. We should get him!” She coos. 

“Would he look good in Ace’s room? Like with Megan’s plushies? Doesn’t she have a similar one?” Manon asks, watching you catch your bottom lip between your teeth, your eyes darting from the hippo in her hand to Sophia to the floor and then back to the hippo. 

“Yeah, oh my god, we should get him! C’mon lets get him.” She grabs one of your hands, her palm warm against the residual shakiness, as you start to move towards the register. 

“No, we don’t have to, it's for children.” It’s just another thing they could take away. You can’t handle losing another one, you think. Sophia does that thing that Megan does where she looks into your eyes and makes a scarily accurate guess at whats wrong and when she speaks next her voice is soft and syrupy, like she’s coaxing a kitten out a gutter and not a nineteen year old into buying a stuffed hippo. 

“You are allowed to have soft things. It’s not childish, no one is going to take him. Would we ever, ever think about touching or taking Daniela’s puppy?” You shake your head, blinking the pressing tears back. “Let yourself have this, mahal.” She whispers smiling when you nod as you try to swallow the lump growing in your throat. Five minutes later the hippo has been tucked into Sophia’s purse, in his own little bag, and the four of you are moving back through the mall and towards the familiar comfort of Sophia’s car. 

The L.A air is chillier than you expect it to be, goosebumps pricking up your bare arms as you shiver a little in just your T-shirt. Sophia notices instantly, immediately stripping off her own oversized hoodie to guide it over your head. Sophia’s taller than you, not by much, by enough that her already oversized sweatshirt swallows you up in a way that has Manon discretely snapping a photo to text to Dani. The Latina responds before Sophia can even start the car, a long string of hearts and a demand for more pictures that makes Manon’s heart thump warmly in her chest. 

Sophia teasingly asks if you’ll both stay awake to keep her company, laughing as you both nod, despite the exhaustion the leader knows both girls are feeling. They roll out of the parking lot and into L.A traffic, Sophia seemingly driving as gentle as she can. 

Manon’s not sure she’s ever been so bone-numbing tired. She’s close to dozing in the passenger seat of Sophia’s car, watching streetlights and headlights blur past her window, as the leader hums in harmony to the soft music flowing through her speakers. It takes everything in her to not just lean against the cool glass and slip away to dreamland, but you had both “promised” Sophia that you would stay awake to keep her company and the resound silence from the backseat leaves Manon suspicious that one of you had already broken that promise. The eldest member of Katseye tilts her head up to look in the rearview mirror and the sight that greets her has her spinning her head around so fast to make sure it’s real. She startles Sophia a little in the process, the eldest girl reaching out to fumble with the volume dial, her eyes frantically scanning in an attempt to figure out what's wrong. 

“Manon, what-”

“Hush!” She whisper-yells, which earns her a raised eyebrow from the leader as an amused smile plays across her face. 

“Did you just hush me?” She asks, teasing and playful. 

“Yeah I did and I’ll do it again. Someone is asleep.” She whispers, watching Sophia’s eye lose the playful glint, only to be replaced by the gentle softness that makes Manon’s heart feel a little melty. 

“Take a picture.” The Filipino whispers, her gaze focusing back on the dark streets ahead of them. Manon double, triple checks that the flash is off before snapping the photo and capturing all the little details you would hate other people to see but she cherishes so dearly. 

You’re finally asleep, your head tilted back against the white leather of Sophia’s seats, Sophia’s sweater swallowing you whole, the extra fabric around your head making a probably uncomfortable makeshift pillow. Atlas’s head is pillowed on one of your thighs, eyes closed, the very tip of his tongue visible as he dozes. Your muscles are loose, your fingers relaxed but still bent around the plush purple hippo that's been tucked into your lap. Its a sight that Manon’s been looking forward to all day, hoping, praying for the moment your mind would finally let you rest. 

Sophia’s car turns onto your street much too quickly for Manon’s liking. Another glance into the backseat and her heart clenches, knowing the chances of getting you into their house without waking up are slim. Slim, she thinks, but not impossible. It would just require a couple of carefully timed  The first thing the older girl does is send two texts: one to Megan to open your bedroom door and the other to the group chat that was created without you all those months ago. ACE ASLEEP DO NOT WAKE HER. By the time they’re pulling into the drive way, both Lara and Dani have demanded more pictures, which are promptly sent and met with excited strings of too many emojis. Phase One Complete, Manon thinks, as Sophia cuts the engine, glaring at the clicking of the gearshift like it had personally offended her. 

Manon pulls the door to the backseat open, wincing at the sound grating on her ears. Your seatbelt gets unbuckled, Sophia picks up a now-awake Atlas and one of Manon’s arms slips under your knees, the other one moving around your shoulders. She lifts as gracefully as she can, tucking your body against hers, the plush hippo tumbling to the asphalt to be carefully scooped by Sophia, along with your backpack and the very sassy border collie who looks like he’s about to make a fuss about being carried. Sophia soothes him with one of her hands on his back as Manon very carefully goes about transporting an armful of sleepy teenager upstairs. They make it through the front door, Phase Two complete, Manon thinks, and are met with Yoonchae, Lara, and Megan watching Sex and The City on the couch. Or at least they were, because when your little trio makes it through the front door, the T.V is paused and all three of them are wearing easy, soft smiles. Beside her, Manon can feel Sophia tensing up to scold Lara and Megan for corrupting baby Yoonchae, but Yoonchae is eighteen and she has something a little more pressing to attend to right now.

The ascent up the stairs is a little more precarious, with Manon holding her breath every time your head knocks a little too harshly into the fabric of her hoodie, but she realises that every single workout she’s ever done has been worth it as she reaches the second floor victoriously. Your door is open like Megan said it would be, and Manon watches fondly as Sophia moves the blankets around so she can lay you down in what she hopes is a comfortable position. Manon unlaces your sneakers while Sophia pulls the hair tie from your hair, tensing as you stir. 

“Wha..” Your eyes are still most of the way closed, your head only barely lifting off the pillow. Atlas makes himself comfortable towards your feet. 

“Shhhh babygirl.” Sophia soothes running one hand flat over your back. “We’re at home, go back to sleep.” Her voice has that sing-song lilt that Manon recognizes from her own moments of panic and fear and her heart swells up in her chest as you lean into Sophia’s touch. 

“Home?” Your words are quiet, barely audible, a bit garbled from the way your face is pressed into the pillow but Sophia hears it all the same. 

“Yeah, lovey, home. You’re safe, mahal.” Sophia hushes, placing the soft body of the hippo into one of your hands, smiling as you immediately curl it close to your face. She waits for a second, watching your breathing even out again before she covers your body with the gentle weight of your comforter, tucking it in around your shoulders. 

“Mmmm… love you mom.” Your mumble falls quietly into the darkness, so quietly Manon’s sure it must be an exhaustion-induced hallucination, but she’s ninety percent sure hallucinations can’t be shared and when she meets Sophia’s eyes she sees that tell-tale shine of happy tears. 

“What, honey?” The leader whispers with that hopeful glint in her voice that means she’ll do almost anything to hear you say it again. 

“Love you, mom.” You’re still asleep just barely, one of your cheeks smushed against the soft fur of the purple plush hippo, your body involuntarily curling closer to where Sophia sits at the edge of your bed. Manon can nearly see their leader’s heart melting as she runs her fingertips along the stray wisps of hair that cling to your forehead. 

“Good night, babygirl. Mahal kita.” She whispers, dropping her lips to your forehead and pressing a soft kiss to your hairline. She eases off the mattress slowly, her fingers gentle across one of your checks to soothe you as you twitch. She smooths her hand over Atlas’s ears where he lays curled up at the other end of the mattress before reaching down to the soft white fur of his belly and unlatching the buckle of his harness before carefully sliding the canvas up over his head to quietly hand it to Manon. His gear is slowly unclipped, and Manon has to stifle a giggle as he drapes himself across the comforter in an obvious request. Sophia runs her nails softly across his belly before reaching under your bed to grab one of his blankets. Her movements are still gentle and slow as she tucks the dark purple fabric around her body, but Manon knows the beaming smile on her face is barely keeping her excited squealing at bay. She fusses over him for another moment, before quietly whispering “keep her safe” to those big, dark eyes, and then both girls are tip-toeing out of the room, leaving you both nestled in safely under the warm glow of your fairy lights. 

The door shuts with a soft click before Manon’s whispering “You know the dog doesn’t need to be tucked in, right?” and Sophia is cutting her off with an excited, already teary “Did you hear what she said?” The older girl nods as Sophia’s hands grip hers, squeezing a little too tight to be comfortable. 

“She said ‘mom’! She said ‘love you, mom’! She-” The leader cuts herself off with a tiny, choked, ferociously happy sob. “Do you remember when she wouldn’t let me touch her? When she hid from us?” Manon nods, watching the younger girl wipe tears from her eyes, her own body flooding with gentle waves of happiness. “And she said ‘mom’. She said ‘mom’.” The leader whispers, dig, dark eyes staring up at Manon with all the love and care your actual mother should have held. 

“Soph, you made it good.” Manon whispers, suddenly awe-struck, the full weight of your sleepy mumble hitting her. The leader tilts her head, confusion pulling her features tight. “Sophiaaaa.” She draws out the last vowel, her own pure excitement thumping in her chest. “We’ve met her mom. She’s terrified of her mom. Her mom has done awful, horrible things to her.” The first real tear drips its way down one of Sophia’s cheeks, now flushed with joy and a little pang of sadness. For a second, Manon watches something darker flicker behind the leader’s eyes, as if your little whisper means that you see your mom and her in the same light, that your brain could ever meld that awful woman and the softness of their leader into the same image. 

“Sophia, babe. You made ‘mom’ be a good thing. She felt loved, she knew she was safe, and she said ‘mom’. Not ‘Soph’ or ‘Phia’. She said ‘mom’. You made it good for her.” Manon’s a little afraid she’s stepped too far because the Filipino really starts to cry, big tears shiny on her cheeks. Then Sophia smiles, that watery, happy smile that means Yoochae nailed a dance break first try or Lara hit that riff just right. 

“We did that?” She asks, almost disbelieving and Manon nearly bursts out laughing. How could Sophia not see it? She thinks. How could she not see that all the time and loved they had poured into this kid had meant everything to you. To all of them? How could the leader not see it? 

“Yeah, Soph. We did that. You did that.” She strokes a hand through Sophia’s silky hair, gently dragging her nails across the leader’s scalp. 

“We did that.” She whispers again, before pulling away from Manon’s embrace and starting back down the hall towards your door. 

“Where are you going?” The older girl whisper-yells, trying to quell the panic that Sophia’s going to accidentally wake you up and destroy all of their hard work. 

“Manon, relax. I’m just going to sit with her. I won’t wake her, I promise. I just-she’s trusting me to keep her safe. Especially with Dani not here, I-”

“Soph. Take a breath. You’re okay. Ace is fine, she’s got Atlas and her stuffie.” Manon pauses, watching the leader breathe as something flickers behind her eyes. 

“You just want to sit with her don’t you?” Sophia nods, looking astoundingly childlike for a second as Manon smiles fondly. “Nothing I say right now is going to stop you from walking back in there is it?” Sophia smiles, nodding, and the older girl watches her practically skip down the hardwood, dimming the light in the hallway before softly clicking your door back open. Manon leans against  the door frame, watching Sophia gently lift the edge of your blankets to slip in next to your sleep-heavy body. She winces as you stir then softening as you shuffle closer to her in your sleep. 

“Shhh, mahal. You’re okay.” She whispers, leaning up against the headboard, moving so your head is pillowed on her lap, your hair fanning out over her sweatpants. One of her hands moves into your hair, the other one smoothing across your back and Manon snaps one more picture for Dani before letting the door close with a soft click and making her way back downstairs to the little gaggle of teenagers waiting on the couch. 

“Where’s Sophia?” Manon smiles at Megan’s confused expression, the dancer’s eyebrows knitted together. 

“She’s with Ace.” Lara pokes her head from behind the couch, tracking the older girls movement as she crosses the living room, her eyes narrowing. 

“Is she okay?” Lara asks, her eyes wandering up the stairs as if she could develop the ability to see through your door. 

“Ace is fine.” Manon replies unable to keep that mischievous little smirk that always spills her secrets off of her face. 

“Is Sophia okay?” Yoonchae questions as Manon’s expression softens at the genuine concern in the maknae’s voice. 

“Yes, Chip, Soph is fine.” She soothes, dropping to sit next to the younger girl on the couch. 

“Then why-” Megan starts, only to be interrupted by Manon’s excited ramble. 

“Ace called her mom. Like most of the way asleep, had absolutely no idea what she was saying, and just mumbled ‘love you mom’.” Manon wishes she could go back in time to set up a camera and film all three girls' reactions because their faces change from shock to confusion to this soft little glow that the older girl can only describe as ‘family’. 

“Really?” Megan whispers, as if speaking too loud will pop the little bubble of gentleness that seems to have settled around them. Manon nods, her cheeks starting to hurt with how wide her smile is. Its a good hurt, one that feels like winning, that says “take that universe! We did it! We made this kid feel loved!” 

“Did Sophia freak out?” Lara asks, her gaze returning to your door. 

“Not all the way. She didn’t wake Ace up, which was good. She may or may not have cried a bit, but it’s Sophia.” Both Lara and Megan manage to hold in barely contained squeals. 

“Oh my god that’s adorable. Let me guess, Miss Leader refuses to leave her side now?” A real chuckle escapes past Manon’s lips, tossing Lara a knowing glance. “Poor Ace.” They both giggle, Lara’s words holding no heat. 

Sex and the City is still queued up, only paused by Manon’s arrival in the living room and as much as the eldest girl tries to conjure up her inner Sophia, she can’t bring herself to burst their peaceful moment. She thinks about the two of you upstairs, the Latina who will probably burst into tears after hearing your unknown confession, and the girls she has snuggled around her. The girls that have become her family. The next time someone tries to poke at her worth ethic, or their chemistry or their anything, Manon knows she’ll be tempted to show them this moment. Knows that she’ll want to proclaim this victory to everyone she’s ever met, that the kid who was scared to cuddle called Sophia ‘mom’ in the middle of the night, but she knows they’ll never understand. They’ll never feel how she feels right now, because right now her heart is full and happy and whole she’s never, ever letting go. 

a/n: thank you so much for reading :) also this is ace's stuffie if people are curious.

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