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Jihyo’s back is turned at the Mubank coffee machine so in retrospect she doesn’t know how Seulgi recognizes her. She doesn’t think the back of her head is that distinctive. Besides, she's wearing her hair down today. Lots of women have her hairstyle. She dwells on it before she spins around to the sound of Seulgi’s voice.
“Unnie!”
Seulgi is nursing a plastic takeout cup of misutgaru. She looks bright, like an apparition with a pink scarf around her neck. The fairy of Jihyo’s dreams. In some of those dreams she hangs her arms over the stern of a grand ship, the bows of her sunhat blowing in the salty air. Jihyo is somewhere at her side, though she can never see her own hands. She’s only ever seen Seulgi’s hands. Seulgi never even turns to look at her. It’s like she isn’t there at all.
So it’s jarring now, to see Seulgi smile at her, pass her a napkin to dab her lipstick, and then, when Jihyo doesn’t take it, step forward and fix the smudges herself.
The pink eyeshadow tops off the whole garden fairy. Seulgi is meticulously quiet, her mouth curled down into a focused expression that makes her look—
“All done.”
—Cute.
“Thank you.”
Jihyo never asked. She was going to check her face in the mirror after she finished her coffee.
“Is that a latte?” asks Seulgi, and Jihyo takes a sip to contain her smile.
Usually Seulgi just passes her by. They share a quick smile and a pleasant exchange and maybe Jihyo would compliment the other’s outfit. It’s not that she’s intimidated, she’s just sleepy and susceptible to the little things about Seulgi’s transient form. Like how the tiny diamonds under her eyes look blue when she steps into the halo of the vending machine.
“Yes.” It comes out squeaky, uncertain.
Seulgi puts coins in the vending machine. A can of orange Fanta rolls out.
“Try this instead,” she says, “it’s warm today.”
She places the damp cylinder into Jihyo’s clammy palms, liquid on liquid, and then she’s gone.
🍊
Jihyo wakes up with chapped lips, the Netflix drama she was watching the night before still playing on her laptop. It’s on the seventh episode and she’s only watched the first two. She rushes to the end of the bed, tangling herself up in her sheets before the two leads fake a kiss.
She shouts out loud when she skips to the next episode by accident.
“Unnie?”
The door to her room clicks up and Chaeyoung peeps her head through. Her hair is messy which means she’s just gotten out of bed, her bangs all askew around her eyes.
“I thought you were talking in your sleep,” Chaeyoung says.
“I don’t do that,” Jihyo says. She sticks her feet off the bed and shrugs. The curtains to her hotel room are drawn and Chaeyoung pulls them open.
“Unnie got the best view,” Chaeyoung complains. “We’re going to look for a brunch cafe. Do you want to come?”
We is: Chaeyoung, Nayeon, Mina, and Tyuzu. The other girls are either asleep, holed up in their rooms to decompress before the concert, or, in Sana’s case, trying out a new smoothie recipe she found on Pinterest.
Jihyo puts on a cardigan, sunscreen, and tucks her t-shirt into wide-cut jeans. To dispel Sana’s giant pount, she promises to try Sana’s concoction when she returns. She follows Chaeyoung out the door and tries to clear her sleepy brain with the cool LA breeze.
They find a place without a line and sit in the corner by the bathrooms, preferring privacy to the unimpressive view. Nayeon buys croissants and green tea lattes for Chaeyoung and Tyuzu while Mina insists she can pay her own way and settles down with her Americano. Jihyo hasn’t quite decided what to order yet. She isn’t looking at the menu board either.
Her phone is lighting up with Instagram notifications, but her brain lands on only one.
Instagram [17:24]
hi_sseulgi created a new post: 🍊🍊🍊
Seulgi looks so cute in her comfortable streetwear that Jihyo feels like she swallowed a carpet. She’s wearing an orange hat and it looks like she took mirror selcas in a bathroom somewhere. The last picture in the set is a close-up of Seulgi's manicured hand holding a can of Fanta.
“Jihyo-yah,” Nayeon calls, “are you ordering?”
Jihyo puts her phone into her purse.
At the hotel that night, she buries herself under the duvet and pulls up Seulgi’s Instagram post. Jihyo recently got her own Instagram account, but she doesn’t want to like the photoset. Seulgi hasn’t liked any of hers. And while that’s terribly selfish reasoning, Jihyo has never been one to overstep the boundaries of inter-group mingling. Or maybe she’s just scared of not getting a response, because it would be public. If Seulgi left her hanging, it’d be like being freezed out of a handshake on live TV, except it would last longer.
In a state of half-sleep, Jihyo dreams of seawater spray and layers of lavender flowers. Seulgi spreads a row of thistle and makes room for Jihyo to stand beside her. She doesn’t look. Her face is still, in profile, the corners of her shorter pieces of hair unfurling into the red phosphorescence of the night. She looks queenly, in every sense of the word. But not royal. She doesn’t look royal. She looks like any other woman, only not one that Jihyo can touch.
🍊
“Sooo, I have a girlfriend,” Chaeyoung announces for the fifth time this year.
“Who is it now?” Nayeon asks, without looking up from where she’s stuffing laundry into the laundry bag, mostly delicates, a few of the other girls’ items mixed in with hers because they forget to wash things sometimes. “That Itaewon princess you bought bingsu with last week?”
“What girl?” asks Sana, “the one with the cute glasses?” She’s curled up on Jihyo’s lap, taking over most of the couch like an overgrown cat.
“No, that's just her friend,” Jihyo remembers, “unless?”
Chaeyoung is sitting on the kitchen counter, a piece of licorice hanging out from between her lips. She shakes her head with a smirk.
“I thought your friend was, and I quote, ‘straighter than Jihyo unnie’,” Sana says.
Jihyo twists her legs until Sana is too uncomfortable to keep lying on her lap. She fiddles with her phone case until the rubber around it snaps. No one seems to notice.
“Turns out she’s bisexual,” Chaeyoung says, “but we’re taking things slow since she just came to terms with that. She reminds me of me, like, three years ago.”
“That’s cute Chaeng,” Nayeon says, “now you can be a mentor to someone else.”
Chaeyoung shrugs. “I mean, if we’re going to date I can’t be her mentor. I can only support her. Right?” She smiles radiantly and hops off the counter.
Jihyo isn’t sure who the question is directed at, but she certainly doesn’t have an answer.
“I broke my phone case,” she says when Chaeyoung and Nayeon have left the room.
Sana blinks at her. “Just buy a new one.”
And then, when Jihyo can’t swallow without her throat hurting, “Jihyo-yah, are you crying?”
Jihyo shakes her head. It’s dumb. She doesn’t have to cry over it. Self-discovery has never been her woe. She’s always known every angle of her every thought. She’s always been able to calculate what makes her smile and what will make her cry, which scenes of her favourite dramas she’ll remember and which ones she’ll only remember when she sees a gif on Twitter. By just the title card before the first scene widens the screen, she always knows which movies she’ll use as talking points and which ones she’ll be unimpressed by.
It must be exhaustion fraying her emotions like this.
“No Sana, I’m tired.”
It’s new. She doesn’t know if it means anything. The soda, her dreams, the tiny bit of hope laced in with the acidic dread at the pit of her stomach.
“Haengsyo!” Sana says cutely.
Jihyo touches Sana’s chin and tries to smile back.
🍊
Seulgi and Jihyo have a mutual friend. She’s not an idol, she’s a makeup artist. She works with SM, JYP, Source Music, and she’s good at what she does. Popular personality too. She grew up in America so her name is Serena Kim but Jihyo calls her Kim Siwon because that’s her birth name. In return, Siwon jokingly calls Jihyo her birth name, Jisoo.
Siwon travels with the band for the LA concerts. While she’s doing Jihyo’s makeup one morning, she gets a call from Seulgi.
At first Jihyo thinks it’s just a manager, or some other employment related call. But Siwon chats about work and complains about her hours, and it’s clear she’s talking to a friend. It’s not until she says, “Seulgi-yah, by the way, why are you up so late?” that Jihyo drops the compact that was already hanging loosely between her hands.
Siwon lowers the phone and gapes at the mess. “Hold on.”
“Is that Kang Seulgi?” Apparently Jihyo’s lips are loose today.
“Yeoboseyo?” Seulgi says from the other end. It’s barely audible but it pierces a tender spot between the muscles of Jihyo’s chest.
“Unnie, hi.” She doesn't know why she answers. Siwon rises from the floor with a roll of paper towel and studies Jihyo with a curious look on her face.
“What’s gotten into you, Jisoo-yah,” Siwon laughs, “you’re as pale as a ghost and I just put blush on you.”
“Jisoo?” Seulgi asks, “I thought that was Park Jihyo.”
First the back of her head, and now her voice. Seulgi recognizes everything about her. The facets of what make Park Jihyo Park Jihyo must be more distinctive than she realizes.
“Oh, shit, it is,” chortles Siwon, “it’s just a little game we play.”
“Ah cute,” Seulgi laughs, “unnie, you should tell Jihyo to post some more LA pics on Instagram.”
Jihyo lurches forward to grab her lunch purse. The compact clatters to the floor again, much to Siwon’s dismay.
“They’re going to have to pay me more when they assign me to you,” Jiwon sighs.
She’s not sure what she was hoping to see, a DM maybe, a follow? She knows following is not something their companies will permit, but Seulgi's statement does mean she checked her profile. That maybe she even checks it regularly. It’s only been five days since she opened the account, and her manager is signed on more often than she is.
“I will,” Jihyo blurts, “just wait, unnie.”
Her dream that night is closest she’s ever been to Seulgi’s warmth. They’re in a rowboat over a misty lake. Seulgi is wearing a trench coat with deep pockets. Jihyo slips her hand into one of the pockets and finds a ring. She isn’t sure if it's a gift from her, or something Seulgi bought on her own. She isn’t sure it’s appropriate to ask. But then Seulgi starts to hum. She leans her head on Jihyo’s shoulder. Jihyo’s body tenses from scalp to heel.
A siren goes off somewhere behind her ears.
She wakes up when the sky is still sapphire blue and the entirety of LA reflects back into her eyes. A firetruck zooms east. Jihyo shuts her eyes and listens to the blaring noise. Soon it dissipates into honking and the beginnings of traffic. She falls back asleep for the two hours she has left.
🍊
She has Nayeon take the photos of her from four different angles. She knows she looks pretty in them, but assuming how you look and having Kang Seulgi confirm your suspicions are two very different phenomena.
Instagram [2:20]
hi_sseulgi commented on your post: pretty 💗
They’re just words on a screen. They sing inside of her as if they were spoken into her ear. Jihyo is out of body when she replies with a set of overwhelmed emojis and the word unnie. She says it out loud into her arm and flushes in embarrassment. She’s alone in her room.
A few minutes later, Jihyo gets a DM from Seulgi. She doesn’t even read the preview. Someone’s calling her back to rehearsals and she has to care about her career for a while.
Jihyo stays far away from her phone for the rest of the day.
🍊
“I don’t open your messages,” her manager informs her, “those are yours to manage.”
Jihyo tears the napkin that’s sitting in between her knees on the double-decker travel bus. A cyclist goes by on her left and she focuses on her peripheral instead of the face in front of her. She doesn’t want to explain anything.
“Okay.”
She doesn’t open the DM until the end of the week, in the middle of the night when they’re back in Seoul and fatigue weighs her down enough for it to feel like it’s nothing.
hi_sseulgi:
how’s the LA air? it seems to be treating you well
_zyozyo:
It was dry. It gave me allergies! How have you been?
hi_sseulgi:
busy. I finally found some time to sketch but my wrist is acting up.
_zyozyo:
Oh no! Did you injure it?
hi_sseulgi:
carpal tunnel
don’t tell anyone
i don’t need anything trendingㅋㅋㅋ
_zyozyo:
Unnie :((
hi_sseulgi:
yah, don’t be so cute all the time
Jihyo has a lurching moment of panic. Her managers claimed not to check her DMs but it’s not a certainty. She sends Seulgi her Katalk ID instead.
She crosses her legs on her bed and bites her thumbnail until she gets the notification.
[18:57] Kang Seulgi
do they check your account? sorry I didn’t know
[18:57] Me
It’s okay you didn’t say anything sensitive
[18:58] Kang Seulgi
ㅋㅋㅋ
you’re probably tired
[18:58] Me
No no. I don’t have anything to do.
I finished Our Blues so I’m bored ㅠㅠ
[18:59] Kang Seulgi
did you like it?
[18:59] Me
It felt homey
I like dramas
Because you always know what to expect
There are no messages for a few minutes. Jihyo goes to the bathroom and comes back, and still nothing. She goes to the kitchen and dumps a few blueberries into a small ceramic dish and brings it back to her bed. As she puts the first berry in her mouth, her phone vibrates under her thigh.
[19:09]
Kang Seulgi sent a photo
It’s a set of charcoal sketches. One of Jihyo’s side profile, the other of her back from the waist up, and a small doodle of a teddy bear in the corner of a tiled bedroom.
Jihyo eats all the blueberries, a spot on her sheet stained purple when she wasn’t looking. When she does realize, her sudden movement tosses the phone off her bed. She leaves it there, turns off the lights, and goes to bed over the stain. She’ll worry about it tomorrow. Maybe she’ll just throw her sheets out.
Tonight’s dream feels like an ice-wound. The ones you get when you slip on water that froze with a jagged nonuniformity.
She’s lying on her back. The ground is immovable and dense, the grass tickling the space between where her sweater rides up and the band of her jeans begin. There’s no wind, or sunlight, or any other meteorological events. There is just Seulgi, reaching down a hand with a half-smile her phase, her cheekbones round like circles of moonlight.
“It’s okay,” dream Seulgi says.
Dream Jihyo shakes her head. “I don’t think it is.”
“It’s okay to sit up,” dream Seulgi smiles, “I promise.”
Jihyo sits up. Her neck aches. She can’t help but touch Seulgi’s forehead, the sweat beading there. Tiny diamonds across her hairline that catch the nowhere-light.
“You don’t have to be so gentle. I am nothing like you think I am.”
Jihyo swallows. “Then what are you like?”
Seulgi kisses her. It’s dewy, like pressing your upper lip against a condensed can of soda in the summertime. Her lip gloss rubs against Jihyo’s, cherry against raisin. The flavours mix strangely when Jihyo dares to lick.
Oh, dream Jihyo thinks.
“Oh,” Jihyo says. She’s sitting up in the dark, the back of her hand pressed glistening against her mouth.
🍊
There is something Jihyo forgot to ask dream Seulgi. A more important question than what she is like.
It repeats on the way to the studio, while she’s recording, on the drive back to Gangdong after photoshoots in Yongsan. It settles into the creases of her forehead when Sana asks why she hasn’t touched her kimchi stew.
Is this the only place where I can touch you?
🍊
After the tour, there’s a stint of two-weeks in which their schedules are sparse and spaced out by days. Jihyo watches movies with Sana, goes to the beach with Sejeong, has long calls with her mother, and learns new recipes to cook for the other girls. She dedicates a day to go museum-hopping with Jeongyeon because she hasn't had time to hang with her alone lately, and Jeongyeon rarely invites her unless Jihyo hints at it first. They go to small exhibits in Seongdong and end the day at a small cafe.
At first, Jihyo thinks she’s dreaming again. Of course it’s likely that Seulgi would spend time in this area, but it’s a weekend, and Jihyo assumed she wouldn’t be working today.
She’s sitting near the back in a checkered sweater and brown slacks. Her hair is tied back in a ponytail and she’s talking quietly with someone who looks like a friend.
Jihyo finishes her drink quickly and without explanation, but Jeongyeon seems to take the que. Jeongyeon takes a cream bun to-go and Jihyo pays for everything to save time. Just when she thought she’s made her escape, there’s a gentle hand on her shoulder.
“Oh, unnie.”
“I didn’t know you two were close,” says Seulgi’s friend, “I love Twice!” She slides her sunglasses on and smiles. Jihyo recognizes her from somewhere, either from Seulgi’s SNS or from an industry network she can’t quite place.
Seulgi’s hand is still on Jihyo’s shoulder. It tingles through the white trim of her house.
“Day off today?” she asks. She’s so close there in the doorway.
Jihyo nods.
“You want to go bowling with us?” Seulgi asks. Her friend nods excitedly.
“Ah, no, I think we have to get back,” Jihyo says.
There’s an awkward pause in which nothing is said and they all step out of the doorway with polite smiles to let an ajumma through.
“Another time then,” Seulgi says.
🍊
It takes a year and a few months to run into Seulgi again. Jihyo gets her hair cut twice. The leaves turn over, bellies up to glare at the sun. The sky is April-pink the day the dressing room door opens to Seulgi standing with Joohyun, fixing each other’s collars.
Jihyo closes the door like she’s trying to seal out a fire.
A few minutes later, there’s a knock. It’s not Seulgi. It’s her manager telling her she’d better hurry up because the other girls are already done with striking the stage.
She finishes getting dressed and shuts the door to her dressing room, and this time Seulgi is there, dressed in her stage costume, a pink dress with her done up in a curled half-ponytail.
“Jihyo-ssi, wait, look,” Seulgi says. She reaches out and tightens one of the strings on Jihyo’s corset. Her face is focused and professional. Right now she’s stage Seulgi. Not Jihyo’s Seugli. Not dream Seulgi. “There. Good luck!”
Maybe she isn’t dream Seulgi, but she looks a lot like her. Jihyo’s mouth is dry. She can’t let a moment like this pass her by. Not when she’s waited for forever in her dreams. She takes Seulgi’s wrist, tugs her along the corridor of the entertainment venue.
“Jihyo?”
“Sorry, unnie.” They stop by a vending machine. Jihyo smooths out her hair and her costume. They don’t have much time. She slots her card through the vending machine and presses the code for two Fantas.
“For you,” Jihyo says, “next time you can treat me.”
Seulgi takes the other can, her eyes wide, her mouth slightly parted. “What--”
“Cheers,” Jihyo says. She opens her can and raises it toward Seulgi.
Seulgi’s can hesitates in the air, trembling slightly, and Jihyo tightens her lips, waiting for the answer. Seulgi’s face breaks, from stage performer to woman with a fluttering chest. Seemingly without another thought, she opens the can and breaks off the tab. She touches her can to Jihyo’s. It makes only a small, slight, tapping noise, but it resonates down Jihyo’s spin all the same.
Jihyo keeps her eyes on Seulgi’s as she drinks, both of them blinking slowly, Jihyo only seconds away from being ushered into dress rehearsals.
“It was nice seeing you,” Seulgi says. She grabs Jihyo’s hand before she turns the corner. Jihyo curls her fist around the cold metal tab. She sticks it in her bra to keep it safe during her stage, it juts into her side and scratches the tender skin there, a small sacrifice. It's the kind of thing she could put on a necklace, like a charm, like a claim, like a promise.
She doesn't dream that night.