Work Text
Gayoon.
That’s all Jeon Jiyoon could think about. “Dammit, Heo.” She set down her mug on the old wood of her table. The liquid inside sloshed up the sides, nearly spilling over. She was drinking green tea. She thought about adding a splash of vodka or some sort of alcohol to give it a kick. Then, she remembered she’s a broke former idol living in a dorm under the watchful eyes of her manager. As she tried to rebuild her fanbase, she was kept on strict diets and schedules. Between 4Minute’s disbandment and her solo debut, she had gained maybe fifteen pounds. Her new label didn’t approve of her weight gain. It felt like she was an idol again. A gallon of water a day, a cup of oats cooked in milk for breakfast, plain white rice for lunch, and some nights she would go to bed hungry. Manager decided if she had worked hard enough to deserve dinner. She knew this was bad, but it’s what she’s accustomed to. She had been an idol from eighteen to twenty five, and had trained since she was even younger.
The fifteen pounds she had gained were from pure stress eating. She missed her members, her fans, and idol life. It was so damn hard, but the payoff was more than worth it. She was adored by her country’s citizens. Now, she had next to nothing.
Jiyoon pushed back her chair and rose, unsteady on her feet. She thought back to two years ago when her group disbanded. Headlines read of Hyuna being the reason for disbandment, or that 4Minute was simply another victim of the 7 Year Curse.
Jiyoon knew the real reason. It wasn’t CUBE’s fault, it wasn’t Hyuna’s fault. It was
her
fault. She’s the reason why 4Minute wasn’t a household name anymore. Her fault.
She should have never snuck Gayoon into the dressing room after their goodbye stage for Hate. She should have known better. She was insatiable, and she had to sneak one last kiss before the group returned to their own apartments nestled somewhere far away in Seoul.
Before Jiyoon could even think about stopping what she was doing, she had Gayoon pressed against a wall with her lips on hers in a way that said “I’m not ashamed.” Outside, the other girls stood, hugging each other with joy plastered to their faces. The next group had taken the stage, ready to perform. Jiyoon could hear the fans screaming in the background, but it wasn’t what she was focused on.
The girl in front of her held her attention, lips moving in such a provocative way. It was such a dangerous way to say goodnight, but the risk factor gave Jiyoon thrills. Her spine tingled in excitement and the hairs on the back of her neck stood up.
“You look good with short hair,” Gayoon murmured against her lips.
“You always look good,” Jiyoon whispered hoarsely before diving back in.
A soft gasp came from the back of the room.
Jiyoon pulled back to see one of the coordi unnis covering her mouth with her tiny hand.
Jiyoon was caught red-handed; lips swollen and slick with spit. Gayoon’s eyebrows shot up far into her forehead. Her mouth hung open.
“Your manager will be hearing about this, girls,” the coordi sneered, voice high and snotty. Jiyoon ran after her, but the door was slammed in her face.
Jiyoon stood at her window, nearly two years later. Rain drizzled down the pane; another miserable day on the outskirts of Seoul. She sipped at her tea, the liquid scalding her tongue. She bit her lip.
She missed Gayoon.