Work Text
in the sunset and stars
we kept our memories
even the memories that have been erased
even the ending of the stories we wrote
The thing is, in any other universe, Nayeon and Jihyo would be polite acquaintances, albeit the kind that would talk a little and dance hard together at raves and beach parties. Jihyo would be the one to call Nayeon a cab home, and Nayeon would text her thanks and apologies in the morning, when Jihyo would have already been up for two hours, finishing up her assignment for school. Jihyo would spare a glance at her screen and send a curt text back with the knowledge that Nayeon would do it all over again.
In this universe: well, it's not like Jihyo hasn't held Nayeon's hair back while she puked into a bush, but the context was different: they'd bonded over a particularly vicious scolding during dance practice, and in a state of drunkenness Nayeon had taken her shoes and thrown them off the balcony of their company building. Jihyo remembers how she was torn between laughter and disbelief, the clumsy manner in which she'd stumbled down the stairs to retrieve the white sneakers, and the way Nayeon had draped herself across Jihyo's back, making retching noises and ambling onto the sidewalk.
Nayeon, in her own way, takes up the nooks and crannies of Jihyo's teenage years. At some point she'd stopped calling her unnie, and there was one night by the convenience store near Nayeon's house, their feet hanging off the high stools and packets of horrible-tasting orange juice in hand, where Nayeon had bared what Jihyo believed was a part of Nayeon's soul not many people will ever get to see, no matter how much they pry and plead.
Jihyo had held Nayeon's hand on the way home.
So: Nayeon can be impulsive and emotional, teeming with all the things that Jihyo has come to dislike, but Nayeon is Nayeon, sticking out like a sore thumb in Jihyo's otherwise consistent universe. Jihyo will never have the heart to correct the discrepancy.
+
The day before Cheer Up was released, Nayeon flitted her way into Jihyo's room. The others sat outside on the couch or in their own rooms, too wrapped up in their own worry or just too scared of an anxious Jihyo to reach out. Nayeon carried with her a special kind of bravado that Jihyo was still trying to figure out, but it was in full swing here, as Nayeon crowded Jihyo out of the middle of her bed and plopped down beside her, legs extending far enough to touch the metal grills at the end. Nayeon was older, sure, but so were half the girls. This wasn't because she was older. It was because she was Nayeon.
"I'm so nervous," Nayeon declared. She was looking at Jihyo but not really, gaze constantly flickering to the random bits of plaster that had scraped off on Jihyo's pale yellow wall.
Jihyo stared at Nayeon for a long time before looking down. To Jihyo's surprise, Nayeon wasn't holding her phone, but her fingers were, Jihyo realized belatedly, draped over Jihyo's own that were balled into a fist. Jihyo was suddenly conscious of the sweat that had gathered on her skin.
"Me too," Jihyo found herself saying. It sounded far away, like someone in the corner of the room was saying it, and Jihyo felt embarrassed, almost immediately, a strange feeling settling itself inside her stomach. "I'm really really nervous," she decided, again, letting the words flow out like a balloon on the loose.
She flexed her fingers, and felt Nayeon's fingers tightening around her own almost like a reflex. Nayeon was looking at her with a curious smile on her face, infused something that almost resembled surprise. Or maybe a bit more affectionately mocking.
"Thank you for admitting that," Nayeon said, finally. Mostly, it was warm, laced with the kind of buoyant excitement that only Nayeon and Sana could conjure up on short notice. Jihyo felt something shoot right through her chest like a wayward arrow, landing in the wrong place in the middle of her heart.
Nayeon brought up her left hand that she'd been hiding the entire time, and in it was an orange carton. Of course. Jihyo couldn't help but laugh as Nayeon shook it. Nayeon had a wild smile on her face, uneven teeth peeking out from behind her lips.
"Juice?"
+
Nayeon works hard and loves even harder. Jihyo knows this, and the members know this, and the company knows this, but a lot of people don't. Nayeon's mood swings and little bouts of anger and annoyance look ugly amplified under a microscope, and it creates misunderstandings. So Nayeon should just lay low for now until it blows over, and just keep being her bright self!
At least, that's the official explanation Jihyo's been tasked with communicating to Nayeon. She returns to the dorm in a haze, and the front door opens before she can fish out her keys.
"Oh," Nayeon says, when she sees Jihyo.
"Where are you going?"
Nayeon at least has the decency to look a little sheepish, but her face quickly twists into something petulant. "It's none of your business."
Nayeon is going out. Contrary to their fans' teasing, Nayeon isn't a grandma or unfit, but she does deal poorly with a lack of sleep, and she knows it better than all of them. Nayeon holds her holster closer to her body like a shield, and Jihyo really hates that she finds this immaturity endearing.
"Nayeon," Jihyo tries. She's tired too, but being the leader means she has to deal with this calmly instead of uploading an expletive-laden letter onto Naver addressed to the people who've been sending Nayeon hate comments. Being an adult is stupid. Jihyo isn't even an adult yet, not really. Maybe she should really consider an anonymized letter -
"Did they send you back to lecture me or something? Because I already know what they're going to say, and I'm sorry that my face is like this or I'm trying to live like a normal human being but-"
"Nayeon," Jihyo repeats, fingers curling around the older girl's wrist. There's a thundering ache in her head that makes her wince, and Nayeon seems to soften when she notices. Her arm falls slack in Jihyo's grip.
"Are you okay?"
If this were Tzuyu or Chaeyoung, Jihyo would lie her way out of it, but the two of them would never give Jihyo so much trouble anyway, so maybe it's a moot point. In any case, Jihyo lets herself deflate in front of Nayeon, shoulders slumping forward. Maybe if she tries hard enough tears can come out.
"I'm kind of angry at everyone right now, so I would really appreciate if you could go back in, sit on the couch, listen to my half-baked explanation, and then we can both go to sleep."
Dealing with Nayeon is difficult. Jihyo's authority fails, and her rationality is faulty, and Nayeon only really listens to things that come from the heart. And Jihyo likes Nayeon too much to be tough -- maybe that's the worst part.
Nayeon stares back, puffy eyes suddenly obvious to Jihyo, and says: "Okay".
+
If Jihyo were to really think about it, the first time Nayeon told Jihyo she loved her was on a wooden bench in Vancouver, when Tzuyu had crashed into a tree on her skateboard and they'd stalled the filming to swipe antiseptic cotton wipes over her skinned knees.
"Did I ever tell you why I voted you for leader?" Nayeon asked. Tzuyu was sitting with her knees bent up towards the sky, letting out small noises of pain at a particularly vicious swipe.
"No," Jihyo said. This was a curiously random topic, but Nayeon had always had her oddities, and Jihyo never really had the habit of denying her. "Are you going to tell me?"
"Because you love me," Nayeon said, after a long while. Jihyo had almost forgotten the topic of conversation, distracted by Tzuyu getting up and mounting her skateboard again.
"What?"
"You'd never hurt the people you love," Nayeon said, a little softly, the usual volume in her words carefully muted so that only Jihyo could hear her.
"Right," Jihyo had said, still distracted and ready to walk forward to hold Tzuyu.
"Just like how I'd never hurt you."
At that time, Jihyo was only vaguely aware of whatever shape her affection for Nayeon took. The statement took a while to sink in, along with the look on Nayeon's face, and Jihyo only really turned it around in her head that night as she fell asleep. When she woke up, there was a strange sort of lightness in her chest, a feeling of fondness sweeping over her like a wave.
+
On the way home from the MAMAs, Jihyo rewatches the video of her crying into Sana's shoulder. It feels - it feels like an out of body experience, now that she's calmed down and breathed, spent the better part of the time cycling through years of memories in her head. All the members have been hovering quietly around her, waiting for her to make the first move. Sana, sweet Sana, has been tender, rubbing circles into the side of Jihyo's hand quietly every time the van goes over a speed bump.
They have a makeshift party, and Jihyo tries - as much as she can, fiercely - to be present. She laughs at everyone's jokes, drinks more and more until the rest are sprawled across the floor. Afterward, she stands up on unsteady feet and pulls the pizza boxes and soju bottles out from under warm bodies, places them in a pile on the table, and passes out.
The first face she sees in the morning is Nayeon's, hovering way too close over hers, and Jihyo startles, bringing her hands up to push at Nayeon's shoulders.
"Good morning," Nayeon greets, staying stubbornly in place. Her arms are caged around Jihyo's shoulders, and it's not like they've never been in this position before, but something about this feels scary and different, and the added hangover is really not helping.
"Nayeon," Jihyo warns, with her best leader voice. Her glasses are sliding off her nose, so Jihyo makes a quick grab to pull them off, and this gets Nayeon to react, reaching out with her arm - except this just leads to her collapsing over Jihyo. Her face slams into Jihyo's chest, and Jihyo is giggling as she wrestles Nayeon off, their legs tangling with each other. The sunlight streams in through the blinds through their window, and the commotion around them has started again, with the rest of them slowly coming to. She hears Jeongyeon shout something about alcohol being the hardest thing to scrub out of polyester carpets, and Nayeon is laughing and laughing and laughing.
+
It's not until Nayeon plods into the room in her big bunny slippers, announcing with a loud, over-dramatic yawn that she's exhausted, that Jihyo manages to identify the feeling in her chest. Nayeon has always had a way of putting all the puzzle pieces together for Jihyo without much effort - or intention, really - and Jihyo registers it: she's tired. Not the kind of physical exhaustion that they experience every day, but the feeling.
Jihyo's eyelids are drooping. Her mind is still running, too used to planning for the next feedback session she'll be attending alone, notepad and burner phone in her rectangular brown bag that she reserves for meeting with the higher-ups. It makes her look put-together but still feminine, and hides the little muffin top that peeks out during their off-seasons.
Nayeon walks over with a cup of hot chocolate, a loopy smile on her face, and Jihyo removes the big fluffy bear beside her on the couch to make space.
"What's on your mind?" Nayeon asks, setting a coaster down on the glass table. She's already settling into watching the show that Jihyo had just put on as white noise, oohing and ahhing at the two leads moving closer on screen.
"You," Jihyo admits.
Nayeon keeps munching on her chips. "What about? Is it my eyebrows?"
Jihyo laughs despite herself. "Definitely," she confirms, and Nayeon looks over at her with an expression that Jihyo can't quite decipher.
"Nice," Nayeon says, finally. "I've been thinking about you too."
"Okay," Jihyo says, and then doesn't know what to say next, because this feels like it's building into something bigger than she'd anticipated.
"Are we going to talk about this? Because I really want to talk about this."
Jihyo has been fighting sleep for hours, and it chooses this time to overwhelm her again like a sledgehammer. She yawns. "I really like you," Jihyo says. The admission feels simple, like it was an eventuality. "But I also really want to do this when I'm not about to fall asleep."
Jihyo reaches to twine their fingers together, and it's apparent, suddenly, that Nayeon's hand is trembling.
"No lectures," Nayeon says. Her voice shakes. A romantic song is blasting from the TV set.
Jihyo's vision blurs. She blinks twice. Nayeon pulls her head into her lap, and it's as easy as breathing, the way Jihyo relaxes into her touch.
"No lectures," Jihyo promises. Nayeon's hands, gentle as they thread through her hair, lull her to sleep.