Work Text:
For the record, she hates this.
Big, exaggerated gifts are tacky. Cheap. Victoria has never found herself to be that girl, the one that pours herself over holidays wedding dresses before there's even a date. Maybe it comes from being in a foreign country by herself for too long, where things like romance and love only seem genuine when it's simple, thoughtful things that suddenly appear, out of the blue, and when you find yourself wanting, but not expecting.
She's always been like this. So when she finds herself on site for a shoot with her members, after an exhausting flight before another exhausting flight and a round of concerts in Japan, it's like the universe was telling: "Yah, I'm about to drop one on you!" with a big, shit-eating grin.
"Vic-omma!"
Amber bounds into makeup, bright-eyed and in these weird, silk pajamas. She's gripping a small, open box and drags herself to Victoria's makeup chair, dropping it unceremoniously into her lap.
"Um." Victoria blinks. "I missed you too?"
"Look." Amber waves her hand. "Someone got you a houseplant."
She blinks again.
"Look," Amber insists, stomping her foot. She digs into the box, shoving a card into her hand. "Someone got you a houseplant."
"I see," she replies dryly, taking the card and envelope. Behind her, the hair stylist laughs and pulls clips out of her hair. "It's definitely a house plant," she shakes her head; her fingers rub the leaves and it looks like it needs a lot of love too, she thinks, which doesn't work for her because she's sure Luna is going to kill her if she adds another house plant to list that she's already watching while she's away. "It's a little sad," she muses.
Amber drops into the seat next to her. "I mean, it's the thought that counts right?"
"Something like that."
Both Amber and her stylist are clearly waiting for her to read the card, both staring at her in the mirror like she has three heads and nowhere to hide. For some reason, it makes her uncomfortable, more than usual, because she's more than just notoriously private about these things. She's been hurt enough to know that this isn't an industry that's kind to female idols, especially when you're a female idol dating someone with equal popularity.
"What are we doing?"
Krystal walks in, gripping a bag, Luna not far behind her. She drops into the seat on the other side of Victoria, tossing her sunglasses into her bag.
"Why do you have a house plant, eonni?" Krystal asks and then Luna laughs, delighted, "That was for you?" she says too.
Victoria shakes her head, looking at Amber. "Does everybody know that somebody sent me a house plant as a gift?"
"Yes." Amber reaches for the card, but snatches it back. "But seriously, open the card -"
"You know who it is," Luna chastises, rolling her eyes. Her gaze is bright and she comes around to Victoria, replacing the stylist behind her for a moment.
This is driving her crazy.
She ignores the other girls and their bickering, opening the envelope under the argument and peeling the card out. It's weird; her reaction is delayed, her eyes moving along the words you told me once no roses and this is the next best thing which is really funny, and sort of stunning, how fast and sharp her reaction sort of hits her. She reads the name at the end.
"Nichkhun," she murmurs, freezing. Her throat dries a little and it's stupid, so stupid, because she's starting to feel panicked and she's never like this. Except when things are true.
Her eyes narrow. She looks at Amber, who barely can contain her excitement. Then she looks at Luna who is beaming, then at Krystal who is squirming and choking on a laugh because of course, of course her kids are in on all of this too.
"Don't get mad," Amber cautions. She shrugs. "His number hasn't changed."
"I think it's romantic," Luna quips, gently prying the plant away from her hands and then carefully setting the plant in the corner by all of their things.
"I think eonni is going to kill him, then us," Krystal tells all of them, rightfully so, as she reaches and takes the card out of Victoria's hand. She squints, then sighs, tucking the card back into the envelope and then handing it to Luna. For safe keeping, she doesn't say. Her gaze meets Victoria's. "You look like you're going to lose it," she comments.
"I'm not," she mumbles. Her face is flushing. The stylist reappears and her hair is on her way to finishing. "I'm not going to lose it," she repeats, but her heart is racing and it feels like there's been no warning.
She can't remember the last time they talked. Or the last time they ran into each other. Maybe it was at an awards' ceremony. Maybe it was when Tiffany jokingly asked her for permission and Victoria, not realizing why, sort of laughed and said yes. Maybe it was around the time Sulli decided to take a hiatus; briefly, she thinks, they were backstage for something and he bowed, smiled, and wished her well, moving on.
This feels like it's out of the blue. And then not out of the blue. It feels unresolved and that now, here, she's finally remembering that everything was unresolved.
Victoria digs out her phone on her way to wardrobe. She is not going to admit that she still has his number. Her fingers feel clumsy.
She doesn't really hate this.
thanks, she says.
The house plant is probably going to die.
This is the first and only thought she has of it (even though she does write instructions for care; totally Victoria, Amber teases her) when they get to Japan, mostly because Luna is in Japan, and Amber's friends is making rounds, taking care of plants and pets for them, and he's the one that is better off with pets if anything but.
"It's going to be fine," Luna soothes, as they break during their concert rehearsal. Victoria ignores her; they have been teasing her all day, mom and dad and divorce jokes even haunting her in between song takes. "We're just teasing you, you know," she adds.
Victoria softens and ruffles her hair. "I know," she says, and then makes an excuse for air, holding onto her phone as she walks outside for a few minutes of silence.
The problem is she's thinking about the reply: there is none, there hasn't been any, and it's really starting to bother her. Flowers are nice. It's not like she hates them. She gets them. They've gotten a lot for their concert series. She sends thank you notes too, or warm regards in between calls and emails. But a house plant bothers and she feels like she's losing it a little bit because it's something that he knows that she likes, something that is insanely personal and she doesn't understand why now.
"Hi."
Victoria jumps. Wide-eyed, she clutches her jacket and tries to swallow back any sort of reaction, the will immediately fading when she realizes who is actually standing behind her.
"Hi," Nichkhun says again, then smiles, really smiles, which is how she knows it's really Nichkhun and she hasn't willed him into existence like a complete fool.
She tries to rationalize everything immediately. She didn't know that 2PM was in Japan. She follows Jun.K on Instagram, but can't remember if his promotions are over or not. Her mind is panicking because the smile on Nichkhun's face is breaking into further amusement, warm and expecting, which makes insanely nervous.
"Did I scare you?"
Victoria wants to hit him. She forces a smile onto her mouth.
"Warn me next time," she chides, then shakes her head. There are so many replies spinning in her head. "Sorry," she murmurs. Her face feels hot. "I haven't slept very well and I just - you're here and I don't really understand how you're here, I'm not prepared for you being here and seeing you -"
"I brought my sister to see you guys." He steps forward, brushing his hand against her arm. "It was her Christmas present."
Victoria brightens. "Oh!" She remembers Nichkhun's sister, distracted. "Chereen," she hesitates. "Right?"
"Yeah." He nods and his hand hasn't moved from her arm. "I wanted to see you too," he adds. Then he laughs nervously. "I wasn't exactly sure how to do it, since we haven't talked in awhile and I didn't want it to be weird because I know how to make things weird, but -"
"No, it's okay," she cuts him off, and she's sure, seriously, that her face is on fire right now. Her mouth curls a little. "I'm happy to see you." Her hands slide into her pockets and he drops his from her arm too. "It's a surprise..."
"Well, I won't bother you. I just wanted to check in and see you." He holds up a pass for the backstage. "We'll see you later too."
Victoria nods. "Good." She doesn't know what to do and it's driving her up the wall, she thinks. She sort of steps forward, then back, leaning on her heels because she wants to react, but she doesn't know how to react and it would be her luck, if anything, that someone's walking around taking pictures and gets them. "It'll be good to see your sister again," she adds.
And then there's that smile, the smile that breaks out onto his mouth and that she has always found herself thinking about from time to time because it makes her uncomfortable and comfortable, insanely bright and sad and hopeful all at the same time. It's a conflict of feelings that she's always faced after they just stopped seeing each other, after the show picked up and ended.
It all comes back this way, even though she can see his sister coming in their direction, even as she plasters a smile onto her mouth because she doesn't know what else to do and she's already been thrown into a loop.
"I should -" her words falter.
Nichkhun smiles. He reaches for her hand and squeezes her fingers. "Glad you liked the plant," he says.
They have dinner that night.
Cheeren sits between Luna and Krystal, gets involved into a paper wrapper war with Amber, and basically leaving Victoria and Nichkhun alone, awkward shoveling around their food from plate to plate because it's neither the time nor the place.
But they sit close, comfortably even, which is weird, so weird, because she's lost between feeling like she's completely on fire and twenty again, ageless and smaller than everything else. Occasionally, their hands will touch to share something, or he'll ask about China, tell her about her drama, and she'll talk about buying his group's last album because she did, because it was good, and it definitely wasn't because she was drunk one night and feelings. She thinks: this is what it feels like to miss someone.
The more things change, the more they stay the same, right?
It's pretty terrifying.
A series of things happens when they are back in Seoul, in the middle of concerts in Japan, after she flies to China for two days because she's, one, insane and two, has about a thousand and one commitments that she has to honor without losing it somehow.
First: she runs into Tiffany at the salon. They don't share the same salon, but with news about her dating life breaking, Tiffany's stylist comes to Victoria's salon to do her hair, trying too hard not to be uncomfortable and stressed out at the same. Victoria thinks nothing of it, tries to be sympathetic; they pass each other at the entrance, then again as Victoria is leaving to go catch a flight again She reaches for Victoria's arm, smoothes her hair, smiles and says: "It was always the two of you, you know..." which makes her uncomfortable, more than just uncomfortable, because it's like everyone else knew except her. But she smiles, nods respectfully and laughs it off, trying not to panic. She wants to.
The second, well, she doesn't really understand. Other than the fact that Amber's friend kills her house plant, Luna's more upset, and the only thing she can think of is texting Nichkhun the kids killed the house plant because it was starting to grow on her.
The third?
He texts her back this time.
we'll buy the next one together
The apartment she has in Beijing is a lot smaller than her home in Seoul.
It's warm though. You learn a lot living alone, traveling alone, and even though her family is in the same country, she forces herself to create a space out of need and habit. The voicemail comes next.
"I'm in town," he says. Damage control, he doesn't say. He sounds tired and sad. She saw the onel She's already making a shopping list in her head; they had to shut down shooting early because of the weather.
Victoria doesn't ask where he's staying. "I'll send you my address," she says, and leaves, bundled up, for the market down the street because she doesn't need a lot of things for dinner. Just wine. For her, she thinks.
He says six o'clock though and she's already halfway done by the time he's at her door, at seven after a text about a late meeting and getting lost two streets before hers, something she totally gets. The smell in the apartment is warm. She opens a window, just a little, and makes sure to adjust the flowers on the table because she's crazy and maybe she should have changed? -- absolutely crazy, she thinks.
The television is on when she gets to the door, a shy smile on her mouth when she takes his jacket and kicks over slippers for him. She folds his jacket into her chest and watches as he sort of adjusts, looks around, and then tries to smile at her, revealing a tiny plant in his hands.
"You're a nerd," she reasons, laughing. Actually laughing. She takes the tiny cactus into her hand, studying it. "My mother's going to love this," she says too.
He laughs too. "Good." Then his shoulders sag. "You didn't have to cook," he adds.
"But I did," she waves him off, hanging his jacket up and letting him follow her into the living room. "Because I wanted to," she says. "And you'll have to live with it."
"You sold me," his voice is dry.
She puts the tiny cactus on the kitchen counter, busies herself with trying to plate things while watching him watch her and look around the apartment at the same time. She's nervous. Feels like she's on high alert too; everything is bright and warm, low lit with the city background and candles, a silent homage to the idea of having a home away from home.
"Do you want to talk about it?" she asks, awkward. She doesn't want to point out that she's read the news, feels awful for the girl that's now involved in an international scandal because no one talks or coaches identities in their business, they sort of just expect you to understand and know.
Nichkhun rubs his eyes. "Not really," he admits. "It's the last thing I actually want to talk about." He looks at her and softens. "But thanks for asking... you're the first."
She shrugs. Her words are careful. "Scandals are scandals," she murmurs, thinking of Sulli. She feels a little tired. "They affect too many people," she murmurs, "but -"
"Yeah," he says softly.
They're quiet. It's not as awkward as before, it's just sort of sudden and there's a sharpness threatening to push her stomach into knots because this is what it is and it's Nichkhun. She can tell herself that for as long as she needs to, but unresolved feelings are never just unresolved. He is a more than just a large part of her life. But they were kids then, she thinks. Kids are clumsy.
Pushing the thoughts away from her head, she leans in, feeding him some vegetables from her pot and laughing when he clumsily tries to take a bite from her chopsticks.
"You have to warn me!" he protests.
She laughs. "Pay attention," she teases.
"I mean I'm not going to say no," he retorts and tries to pick off a carrot from his shirt. She beats him to it, stepping forward and brushing past his hand. He eyes her. "It's delicious."
Victoria's mouth curls. "I know."
Nichkhun grins widely. That hasn't changed, of course.
After dinner, they sit outside on the balcony with their coats. It's stupid. Her luck is going to drive her to get sick, but she doesn't care and is busy ignoring texts from her girls that collectively say WHY IS NICHKHUN IN YOUR APARTMENT and MOM AND DAD ARE GETTING BACK TOGETHER!! which is irritating, of course, because they're probably all together doing this and waiting for her reply.
He leans into her space and she is a little tipsy, watching as he adjusts her leather jacket back over her shoulders. She's had more wine than food and that's breaking so many personal rules, right now, since she is so not alone.
"Tell me about what I missed."
Surprised, Victoria flushes and cannot hide it.
"I mean," she says and looks away. Her throat feels a little tight. "I've been busy," she says with a shrug.
"No kidding." He's dry. "I've been monitoring."
Victoria blinks. "You have?"
He shrugs. "Yeah." Then a strange, little smile appears and he sort of shrinks into his seat, extending his legs over the railing of her balcony. "I mean," he admits, "I never really never knew how to reach out to you. We both got busy. I had these feelings and I ... I made it about me. You never really reached out to me or said anything in interviews and I just thought I was crazy."
Her throat burns. She can't bring herself to respond, looking down.
"So I just watched you," he manages.
Part of her wants to yell, but she doesn't yell. Another part of her wants to hit him. And maybe she will. When they get comfortable again. Then she thinks about that, about getting comfortable again, and she doesn't want that, wants more than that, and she feels like she's back to the beginning all over again.
"You know how I am," she says quietly. She smiles a little, shrugging. "I'm not exactly the best when it comes to my feelings. I didn't really know what to do when the show ended. And then there you were, everywhere, talking about things that you never said to me -"
She pauses under his sigh, listens and watches him drag his chair to sit in front of her. His eyes are bright and she hates that he knows her well enough to force her to keep his gaze.
"I was selfish," he interjects. It's delayed; she paused first.
Victoria shakes her head. "It doesn't even really matter," she mumbles. She shrugs. "Whether it was me or you," she adds. "We both agreed to do the show." She stops, shying again. Then she's firm: "I don't regret anything about it. But... I didn't let myself admit that I missed you." She meets his gaze, shrugging. "That I still miss you a lot."
He stares at her, too serious for what she wants him to be, but there and present and close enough for him to be there and what she can't admit to wanting. He leans in, his fingers flicking against her forehead, then he laughs when she jumps, and drags his fingers to slide over her jaw and mouth.
It feels like forever before he says anything, it feels like every layer she's thrown in front of herself to protect herself, is peeling right there and then, waiting for her to call out and say stop it. She's never know how to. With him.
"I miss you too," he says. Then: "It's a weird feeling. But I do. I feel like you're still you and I'm still me, but there's a lot I still want and need to know about you... that's cheesy." He laughs and groans. "Seriously cheesy."
Victoria laughs. "That's fine." Her gaze is bright. "It's just me and you anyway."
And then without thinking, she leans in and brushes her mouth against his, probably aiming for his jaw, or his cheek, but his mouth is just there (she swears) and she forgets everything, forgets to rationalize, because he is just as warm and just as present as she remembers.
Her mouth feels shy. Her lips might be chapped from filming in the cold earlier. But she sort of draws herself forward, pushing her knees into his and opening her mouth against his too. He makes a sound and his fingers are digging into her hair. She can't tell who tastes like what: sweet, a little sharp, but when his tongue flicks into hers and she sort of sighs, curling her fingers into his jacket, she can't avoid thinking about more. Wanting more.
It doesn't matter who slides back first.
His hand pushes into hers and their fingers lace. She's trembling, just slightly. He can barely look at her; he's smiling. They can't see the stars though and then she almost says something to make him promise - let's go camping, let's take a vacation, let's do something, but it's getting ahead of herself. Instead, they're staring at the city lights and she listens to him sigh, lean in, and readjust her jacket once more.
"The kids will be excited," she says lightly. Her voice catches and breaks in a sigh.
Nichkhun laughs. It's a lot of things; they still feel good.
Back in Seoul, Luna takes away roses that a fan gives her, eyes bright with amusement.
"She's not a roses girl." Both Krystal and Amber break away to laugh, even as Victoria tries to smooth over her embarrassment and blush by tucking a rose into her hair.
"Get her a cactus," Amber adds, and oh god, they really are her kids.
Victoria hates all of them.