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It was raining the night Yubin found Yooyeon in the bathtub.
The world outside their dorm was grey and loud, the sky cracking open every few seconds with thunder that rattled the windowpanes. Inside, though, everything was too quiet. It was the kind of silence that made the air feel heavier, that made your ears strain for something, anything, to break it.
Yubin had just come back from practice, her hoodie damp from the rain, her throat dry from too many verses and too little water. Her feet hurt. Her back ached. But even in her exhaustion, something felt off.
Where was Yooyeon unnie?
She should have been back by now. Yubin remembered passing her earlier in the hallway, makeup barely cleaned off, muttering something about wanting to shower. That was an hour ago. Maybe more.
Yubin paused in the hallway, her gaze flicking to the closed bathroom door. The light was still on beneath the crack. A trickle of unease crawled down her spine.
She knocked once.
"Unnie? You still in there?"
Silence.
Yubin's brow furrowed. Yooyeon wasn’t the type to ignore someone knocking. She was quiet, yes. Composed. But she was never rude. Never dismissive.
"Yooyeon unnie?"
She placed her hand on the doorknob, hesitated, then turned it. Locked.
She heard it then. Water lapping against porcelain. A shift. A breath or was that a sob?
And that’s when panic started to claw its way up her throat.
"Unnie, I'm coming in, okay? Something's wrong. Please answer."
Still silence.
Yubin ran to the kitchen, grabbed the spare bathroom key from the emergency drawer with shaking hands, and rushed back. Her breath was coming fast now. She fumbled with the key. Her hands were wet. Why were they wet? She hadn't even realized she was crying.
The door swung open.
And time stopped.
Yooyeon was in the bathtub, fully clothed in a thin black inner and long pant, her body half-submerged in water that had long gone cold. Her head was tilted back, hair fanned out like seaweed, eyes open and empty. Her wrists floated. Still.
"Oh my God."
Yubin didn’t scream.
She moved.
Dropped to her knees, hands plunging into the water, grabbing, pulling, lifting.
"Unnie. No, no, no, please!"
Yooyeon's body was heavy. Not from weight, but from something worse. Something lifeless.
Yubin’s heart was a war drum in her chest, loud and erratic and painful. She didn't realize she was shaking until her teeth started to chatter.
She dragged Yooyeon out of the tub, water soaking into the bath mat, her hoodie, her socks. She cradled her like something fragile, something already broken.
"Breathe. Come on. Please, please just breathe."
Yooyeon coughed.
It was faint. But it was there.
Yubin choked on a sob.
"Oh thank God. Oh my God. You're okay. You're okay. You're okay."
But she wasn’t.
Not really.
Yooyeon opened her mouth, but no words came out. Just a sound. A small, helpless sound that made Yubin's chest hurt. She held her tighter.
Yooyeon started to cry.
Not loudly. Not dramatically. Just tears slipping down her face as her fingers curled into Yubin's hoodie like she was afraid of slipping away.
"I didn’t mean to," Yooyeon whispered, voice hoarse. "I just wanted the noise to stop. Just for a bit."
Yubin didn’t say anything. She couldn’t.
Because she understood.
Because sometimes she wanted the same thing.
But this wasn’t about her. Not now.
She held Yooyeon through it. Let her cry. Let the water soak into both of them until she couldn’t tell which was which. She whispered that she was there. That it was okay. That Yooyeon wasn’t alone.
That night changed everything.
Yubin never looked at Yooyeon's smile the same way again. She saw the cracks now. The exhaustion. The way she smiled a second too late when someone complimented her, how her fingers twitched when someone mentioned her visuals instead of her vocals. How she pulled her sleeves down when she thought no one was looking.
But Yubin watched. Always.
She remembered thinking:
“I will never let her feel that alone again. I’ll carry her sadness if she can’t.”
She never knew that one day, she would be the one needing to be pulled out.
___
The lights were blinding, but Yubin basked in them. On stage, she was unstoppable.
She laughed with Jiwoo over an inside joke the fans wouldn't know, mimicked Kaede's dance with exaggerated flair, and waved to the fans until her arm ached. The crowd cheered for her, calling her name, chanting, and screaming.
It was the kind of love she'd dreamed of as a trainee.
It was also the kind of love that vanished the moment the stage lights dimmed.
Backstage, she smiled and laughed, joked around with Joobin and made silly faces for the behind cams. She told staff she was okay, that she just needed some water. She handed out snacks to tired members. Even scolded Xinyu playfully for stealing her banana milk again.
She was the mood-maker. The bright one. The one who made it easier for everyone else.
But when she stepped into her bedroom, and the door clicked shut behind her, silence swallowed her whole.
The walls were white. The air conditioning hummed. Her reflection stared back at her from the mirror, still smiling.
That was when the smile cracked.
Gone was the sparkle in her eyes. They looked dull. Soulless. Her long black hair clung slightly to her cheeks with sweat, but it covered just enough of her face that no one saw the emptiness behind her smile earlier.
She sat down slowly on the small couch, bent over, and stared at her hands.
Her hands.
The ones that pulled Yooyeon out of the tub.
The ones that held so many members when they cried.
The ones that fans loved to hold during fan signs.
Why did they feel so cold now?
She blinked. Swallowed.
Her troat felt dry again.
It had been nights like this for weeks now. Maybe months.
She would laugh, perform, pretend. Then return to this empty, aching shell that no one ever saw.
She told herself she was fine. That she should be fine.
Their group was gaining more success. More fans. More recognition.
So why did it feel like none of it mattered?
Why did she still feel like she was failing?
Why did she feel that her dreams slip away deeper when she run harder?
She stood up without really realizing it, her legs moving on their own. Walked out of her room and down the hallway. A few members were lounging around, tired from the fan meeting, eating snacks or talking in low voices.
"Yubin unnie! You were so funny on stage just now!" Hyerin called, cheerful.
Yubin turned slightly and raised a hand, waving lazily.
"Thanks, Hyerin," she said. Soft. Even perfect.
No one noticed.
Not the slouch in her shoulders.
Not the heavy way her feet moved.
Not how her hand was clenched tightly at her side
She walked into the bathroom. Locked the door.
It was the same one Yooyeon used that night.
She stared at the bathtub.
Her heart wasn’t racing. Not like that night.
It was quiet.
Almost too quiet.
She started the water, letting it fill slowly. The sound was gentle. Comforting.
Her phone buzzed with a message.
She turned it over. Didn’t look. Must be one of her members' sending those funny stickers in the group.
She slipped in, fully clothed.
It was warm. Hugged her body like something kind.
She leaned back.
Her long black hair fanned out behind her like Yooyeon's did that night.
She stared at the ceiling. Counted the tiles.
One. Two. Three
Her mind whispered,
“You don't belong here.”
“You're a burden.”
“You smile and laugh, but it doesn't mean anything.”
“You're not enough.”
“They only cheer because you smile. What happens when you stop?”
“You’re replaceable.”
“There are twenty-four of you. What makes you special?”
“You should be happy. Why aren’t you happy?”
“You’re selfish.”
“If you died, they’d just rearrange the lines.”
“You don't deserve to be here.”
She slid lower.
The water covered her chin. Then her mouth. Then her nose.
The silence was deeper under the water. The world dulled. Muted.
Her mind kept whispering, but it was farther now. Echoing. Fading.
Is this what Yooyeon unnie felt?
That night. In that same tub.
Is this what she meant by wanting the noise to stop?
It’s peaceful.
So peaceful.
She closed her eyes.
Let the water cradle her.
She didn’t fight it.
Not this time.
She just wanted the noise to stop.
Just for a little while.
She didn’t notice her hands twitching.
Didn’t notice the bubbles.
Her lungs began to ache. Her body begged for air. But her mind said, don’t fight it.
Just a little longer.
Just let go.
So she did.
Until there was a tug.
A sharp, desperate pull at her arm.
Then everything was water and noise and gasping and air she didn’t ask for.
___
The dorm is unusually quiet. The kind of quiet that crawls under your skin and whispers that something is wrong. Hayeon doesn’t notice it at first since she’s too busy scrolling through rehearsal footage on her phone, marking the way Lynn nodded to her after their part.
But then she realizes.
She hasn’t heard Yubin laugh tonight.
Not once.
Not her teasing Jiwoo about her off-key humming. Not her dramatic whining about sore muscles. Not even her singing in the shower, offbeat and loud, like she’s performing for a stadium.
Hayeon glances at the hallway. The bathroom light is still on.
She walks up to it, slowly.
Knocks once.
Twice.
“Unnie?” she says, softly. “Are you okay?”
Silence.
Not even the sound of water. Not the quiet hum of Yubin humming to herself like she always did. Not the usual crash of her carelessly knocking over shampoo bottles.
A chill crept up Hayeon’s spine.
She turns around, her heart picking up speed as she walks to the common area where a few of the older girls are curled up, half-asleep in front of the TV.
“Did anyone see Yubin unnie?”
Jiwoo looks up from her phone, eyes furrowed. “She went into the bathroom a while ago, I think. Why?”
"It’s been over an hour."
Jiwoo sat up straight. "That’s weird. She’s always super fast. Even when she washes her hair."
That was what was wrong.
Yubin was fast. In everything.
Dancing, changing, brushing her teeth.
Laughing. Moving on.
Everything.
But this stillness didn’t feel like her.
Panic rose fast and sharp in Hayeon’s chest. She didn’t wait. Didn’t ask for permission. She ran to the kitchen, throws open the drawer, pulls out the master key without asking.
Her hands are shaking.
Back to the door.
She hesitated just a second.
Then shoved it in.
Turned.
The door swung open.
And she screams.
The sound shreds the silence.
Yubin is there. In the bathtub submerged, pale, eyes closed, hair like a veil over her face in the still water.
Still. Too still.
Water touched the edge of the tub like it didn’t want to disturb the silence it cradled.
Hayeon’s body moved before her brain could catch up.
She rushed in. Slipped once. Caught herself. Her knees hit the cold bathroom floor with a thud.
"Unnie!"
Her voice cracked.
No answer.
She reached in.
Arms trembling, she pulled Yubin’s body toward her. The water splashed violently now, crashing over the edge like an echo of her heart.
“Yubin unnie! Please, please wake up!”
She’s sobbing now, gripping Yubin’s cold shoulders, shaking her, pressing her cheek to hers, just to feel breath. Anything.
Her hands were cold. Everything was cold.
She shook her, water dripping from her sleeves, pooling around her knees.
"Don’t do this. You can’t. You can’t do this to us!"
For one horrifying second, nothing happens.
And then
A cough.
A gasp.
A splutter of water from trembling lips.
Yubin opens her eyes.
Confused. Pale. Disoriented.
But alive.
The first thing she sees is Hayeon. Soaked through, hair plastered to her cheeks, clutching her so tightly it almost hurts. Her hands are trembling. Trying to hold her upright.
“Unnie, can you hear me? Say something. Please.”
But Yubin didn’t speak.
Didn’t blink again.
Didn’t cry.
Her eyes just followed the cracks in the ceiling tiles.
Like they held some answers. Hoping it can explain why she’s still here when she tried so hard not to be.
Even when Yubin didn't say anything, Hayeon didn’t let go. Didn’t dare to. The wet fabric clung to them both. Her knees hurt. Her heart even more.
She whispered, again and again.
"Stay. Please stay."
She didn’t even realize Jiwoo and Sohyun had arrived until she heard Jiwoo’s gasp. Sharp and broken like glass cracking under pressure.
The sound of her phone hitting the floor followed.
They stood there.
Frozen.
Sohyun’s eyes wide, lips trembling. Jiwoo covered her mouth, body shaking.
Yubin didn’t notice them.
She just kept staring up.
The girl who made the world laugh, the centre who lit up the stage, the voice who cracked the loudest jokes.
Now a hollow shell.
___
The room was quiet.
Not the kind of quiet that comforted. Not the kind that blanketed a heavy heart with peace. It was the kind of silence that crept in after a storm, hanging thick with everything left unsaid.
Jiwoo sat on the edge of Yubin’s bed, her fingers trembling as they gripped the hem of the oversized hoodie she’d rushed to pull from Yubin’s drawer. The moment they dragged Yubin out of the bathroom, all soaked limbs, pale lips, and lifeless eyes, everything had started to blur.
But Jiwoo moved. Because she had to.
Because if she didn’t, she’d fall apart. And Yubin couldn’t see that. Not now.
Not when her best friend looked like someone else. Not when the bright, mischievous girl who lit up their stages was lying in front of her, drenched and mute and broken.
She had helped change Yubin out of the soaked clothes, wordlessly drying her hair with the soft towel they always used after practice. She carefully wiped water from Yubin’s lashes, avoiding her blank gaze. The hoodie slipped over Yubin’s head, and Jiwoo gently tugged the sleeves down, her fingers brushing over the cold skin of her wrist. The skin that had always been warm with teasing pokes and playful slaps.
Now? Just cold.
Too quiet.
Jiwoo didn’t speak. Her throat burned with everything she wanted to scream. Everything she wanted to ask.
Why didn’t you tell me?
Why did you carry it all alone?
Why didn’t I see it?
But she couldn’t. Not yet.
Because Yubin hated that look. The one people gave when they pitied you. Jiwoo had seen her rant about it before, when they'd watched a drama together. Yubin had made some sarcastic comment, laughed it off, but there had been something in her eyes then, even back when Jiwoo didn’t know to look for it.
That hollow flicker. The same one Jiwoo now saw clearly, staring back at her in real time.
She tucked the blanket under Yubin’s chin, smoothing it down over her best friend’s chest. It moved slowly, up and down, as if each breath was a decision Yubin hadn’t fully committed to making.
“You can rest now,” Jiwoo whispered, forcing her lips into a smile. It didn’t reach her eyes, but it was all she had.
“I’ll be right outside.”
Yubin didn’t respond. Her eyes stayed on the ceiling, as though she was reading words written in the cracks, hoping for a better ending.
Jiwoo stood and walked to the door. She didn’t look back.
She couldn’t.
Because if she did, she wouldn’t be able to hold it together anymore.
The second the door clicked shut, Jiwoo crumbled.
She leaned against the hallway wall, her body shaking. Silent sobs broke from her chest, muffled by the back of her hand. The tears she had forced back while helping Yubin fell freely now.
Yubin, who always teased her, who always threw her arms around the members in chaotic affection, who made the darkest days bright, had been suffering in silence. Drowning in plain sight.
Jiwoo slid down to the floor, curling into herself, her phone still in her pocket. She pulled it out and stared at the lock screen. A photo of her and Yubin from their last fan meeting. Both of them are grinning wide, hands in V-signs. It felt like a lie now.
She pressed the phone to her forehead, willing herself to stay strong. Because this wasn’t about her. It was about Yubin. Her Yubin. Their Yubin.
___
She didn’t know how long she sat there, silent sobs shaking her shoulders. Her hands were clenched into fists. The sleeves of her sweater soaked through from wiping her face.
Jiwoo wasn’t the type to cry. The members even joked about it. That Jiwoo’s tears were rarer than a tripleS’ music show win. But now she couldn’t stop. In her mind, the image replayed, Hayeon screaming. The splashing. Yubin’s limp body in the tub. Her skin is blue under the harsh bathroom light.
That blank stare.
Jiwoo had known Yubin since they were trainees. They’d laughed through endless evaluations, shared cheap snacks in the middle of the night, and comforted each other after harsh critiques. She thought she knew her.
She was wrong.
There had been so many signs, hadn’t there?
The way Yubin stayed behind in practice even after everyone left.
How she’d sleep through entire car rides, headphones in, body still.
The smiles always so wide. But now that Jiwoo thought about it, they never quite reached her eyes.
How did we miss it?
The others were quiet now. The dorm, usually full of chatter and footsteps and spontaneous karaoke battles, had gone still. The only sound was Jiwoo’s stifled sobs and the ticking of the clock on the wall across the hallway.
Then a soft voice.
“Jiwoo?”
She looked up to see Sohyun, standing with a blanket in her arms and worry written all over her face. Her eyes were red too.
“Are you okay?”
Jiwoo shook her head before she even thought about the question.
Sohyun knelt beside her, wrapping the blanket around her shoulders.
“I brought this for Yubin, but I guess she’s asleep?”
“More like shutting down,” Jiwoo whispered. Her voice cracked. “She hasn’t said a word.”
They sat in silence.
“Ikeep thinking...” Jiwoo started, then stopped.
“What?”
“I keep thinking, what if Hayeon didn’t check?”
The thought made her stomach twist violently.
Sohyun’s hands were shaking too. “I keep thinking what if I had listened to my gut? She’s been off. I felt it. I knew something wasn’t right. But she kept smiling and said she was just tired.”
“She always said she was tired,” Jiwoo murmured.
Because she was. Tired in a way that sleep couldn’t fix.
___
Inside the room, Yubin lay still.
The world felt far away.
The lights were dim. The blanket smelled like lavender, one of the softeners they used on laundry day. It was Jiwoo’s favorite scent. It reminded Yubin of weekends, of movie nights, of the soft giggles of girls who didn’t yet know how heavy the world could be.
But that weight was back now.
It sat on her chest like a curse. Her limbs ached, her eyes burned, but inside she felt empty.
Not numb. Not quite. Just disconnected. Like her soul had been misplaced and her body was running on muscle memory.
She could still hear Hayeon’s sobs. The way her hands had trembled as she held her close. How she called her name over and over, like it was the only word she knew.
And Yubin had just stared.
There was guilt now. Gnawing at the edges.
“I scared her,” she thought distantly.
But the guilt didn’t feel loud enough to anchor her.
Nothing did.
___
Yooyeon arrived at the dorm later than everyone else that night. Her makeup was still faintly visible under the dim light of the hallway, her coat damp from the persistent drizzle outside. Her shoulders ached from the tight filming schedule. A full day of variety shoots, interviews, and a commercial set that dragged on three hours longer than it was supposed to. But the ache in her chest was what really made her steps heavy.
She had seen Jiwoo’s message while in the car: “Come back quickly. Something happened to Yubin.” Nothing more. No context. No voice message. No details.
That silence was louder than anything.
Her steps quickened instinctively as she slipped off her shoes and rounded the corner to the hallway. Before she could even reach for Yubin’s room, she spotted Jiwoo and Sohyun sitting just outside, their faces pale and lips pressed into tight lines. Jiwoo’s knees were pulled to her chest, her usual tough exterior cracked. Sohyun glanced up at Yooyeon’s hurried footsteps and quickly rose.
“Yooyeon unnie,” Sohyun whispered, immediately reaching out to grab her wrist.
“What happened? Is it true?” Yooyeon asked, breath already catching. “Is she… is Yubin?”
“She’s alive,” Sohyun cut in quickly, tightening her grip. “She’s resting now.”
Yooyeon tried to push past Sohyun, but Jiwoo lifted her head.
“I need to go there”
“Wait,” Jiwoo said, voice hoarse from the tears she’d finally let fall earlier. “Please don’t go in like this. You’ll scare her.”
Yooyeon blinked. She hadn’t realized her breathing was so erratic, her hands trembling.
She nodded slowly. Took a step back. Tried to center herself even though her lungs didn’t feel like they were working right. She leaned against the wall, letting the cold of the plaster settle into her skin.
“Okay,” she whispered.
A minute passed. Then two. Then Yooyeon finally reached for the door.
She opened it carefully, just enough to slip inside.
The room was dim. Soft yellow light from the bedside lamp cast a low glow across the space.
Yubin lay there, curled on her side, the blanket tucked around her loosely. Her hair was still damp from earlier, strands clinging to her cheeks. She looked small, fragile, nothing like the girl who lit up every room, who joked on stage, who stole laughter from everyone around her like it was the easiest thing in the world.
Yooyeon approached quietly and sat beside her. The mattress shifted slightly under her weight, but Yubin didn’t stir. Her eyes were open, staring at nothing in particular.
Yooyeon’s throat tightened.
She reached out and brushed some strands away from Yubin’s face. The skin beneath was pale and cool.
“I’m sorry. I’m sorry I can’t be the one who save you, can’t be the one who pulled you out the way you pulled me,” she whispered, more to herself now. “I don’t think you even remember the things you said that night. But I do.”
Her voice wavered.
“I was drowning too. Not just in the water but in everything. The pressure, the hate, the expectations. Everyone always thought I was okay because I was quiet, because I smiled. But you saw through that. You just sat beside me. Let me cry. Let me fall apart. And I lived because of that. Because of you.”
She paused. Yubin’s gaze didn’t waver.
“I thought you were invincible, you know?” she continued. “Like nothing could ever get to you. You were always laughing. Teasing everyone. Carrying the mood whenever it dropped. You always knew when one of us needed a hug, or a joke, or just someone.”
Her voice cracked. “I thought you were safe. From all of this. From the things that haunt me.”
She reached for Yubin’s hand but hesitated. Then gently laid her palm against the blanket instead.
“But I guess I didn’t really know you. Not all of you.”
Yubin didn’t answer. Her eyes blinked once. Slowly. Her expression didn’t change.
The silence grew heavy again. Yooyeon sat in it for a few moments longer.
“I’m sorry,” she said, standing slowly. “I should’ve seen it. I should’ve asked. I should’ve stayed closer.”
Still, Yubin didn’t move.
She looked down at Yubin and tried to smile, though it trembled at the corners.
“I’ll let you rest,” she murmured.
Yooyeon bit her lip to keep the sob inside. She didn’t want to cry in front of her. That would make it about herself, and this moment wasn’t hers. It was Yubin’s.
She stepped toward the door, then paused and looked back one last time.
“You don’t have to say anything,” she whispered. “But please don’t shut us out.”
___
The door creaked open quietly, the soft padding of footsteps barely audible over the hum of the heater. Hayeon stood in the threshold of Yubin’s room, dressed in dry clothes now, her long brown hair still damp and clinging to her cheeks. Her eyes darted to the figure curled up in bed.
Yubin didn’t move.
The room smelled faintly of shampoo and clean linen, but underneath it lingered the phantom scent of bathwater and fear. The comforter rose and fell gently with each breath Yubin took, her body cocooned in stillness. Her gaze was unfocused, locked on the shadows that the desk lamp cast onto the ceiling.
Hayeon didn’t say anything. She didn’t know what she could say that wouldn’t shatter the fragile quiet. Instead, she walked to the foot of the bed and pulled the chair from the corner, dragging it across the floor with a soft scrape before sitting.
The silence was thick. But it wasn’t awkward. It was heavy. It was filled with all the things neither of them could bring themselves to say.
Minutes passed.
Maybe it was ten. Maybe twenty. Hayeon wasn’t sure. She was just about to reach out, maybe say something light, when Yubin finally spoke.
“I’m sorry.”
Her voice was barely more than a whisper, thin and frayed like fabric worn from too many washes.
Hayeon straightened. “What?”
“I’m sorry,” Yubin still didn’t meet her gaze. Her voice cracked a little as she repeated herself, "I'm sorry you had to see that."
And that shattered something in Hayeon. She stood abruptly, the chair scraping softly against the wooden floor. She crossed the gap between them in two strides and dropped to her knees by Yubin’s bedside, grabbing her hand tightly like it’s the only thing keeping her grounded.
"Why?" Her voice trembled, thick with tears. "Why are you sorry for me?"
Her grip tightened. "Why aren’t you sorry for yourself, unnie?"
Yubin didn’t answer.
And then the tears came. Silent, hot trails carving down Hayeon’s cheeks. She couldn’t hold them back this time. Seeing Yubin like that, limp and blue-lipped in the bathtub, the image wouldn’t leave her. She’ll wake up with it still burned into her mind.
“Why…” Hayeon’s eyes fill again. “Why did it have to come to this?”
She exhales hard, trying to steady the storm in her chest.
“You were always the one who made us laugh,” Hayeon said, squeezing her hand tighter. “Always teasing, always cheering the members up when we were exhausted or frustrated. Even me. Remember that time during vocal practice when I cried because I couldn’t hit that note, and you brought me that ridiculous pizza blanket? You didn’t even say anything, just sat beside me holding it until I smiled.”
Yubin’s fingers twitched, barely.
“You carried us so much,” Hayeon whispered, “but who was carrying you?”
She looked at Yubin, really looked at her. At the hollowness beneath her eyes. The way her mouth pressed into a flat, emotionless line. Her body lay there, but her soul felt like it had already walked out of the room, halfway to somewhere unreachable.
“I don’t know what made you feel like this,” Hayeon continued, brushing her thumb across Yubin’s knuckles. “But you don’t have to feel it alone anymore.”
Yubin finally, finally turned her head. Her gaze was slow and glassy, but she was looking at Hayeon now. It was the first time since she was pulled from the water that her eyes had focused on someone.
Her lips parted. “The truth is…”
Hayeon leaned in, heart thudding.
Yubin’s voice was small. “The truth is I wanted to be happier than anyone could ever know. I really did. I wanted to feel that kind of joy. The one where it fills your chest and makes you want to sing. But every time I got close… it felt wrong. Like, I didn’t deserve it. Like… being happy meant I was selfish. That I was ignoring everything else.”
She blinked slowly, eyes wet but tearless. "Every time I smiled, it felt like a lie. Like I was stealing air that someone else deserved more. Am I even allowed to be that happy?”
Hayeon didn’t answer immediately. She pressed her forehead against Yubin’s hand, closing her eyes, her breath shaky against her skin. Her chest clenched so tightly she couldn’t breathe.
“You are,” she whispered. “You’re more than allowed. You deserve it more than anyone I know. You deserve the kind of happiness that doesn’t ask questions or make you feel guilty for existing."
Tears dripped onto Yubin’s skin.
"You saved Yooyeon unnie. You saved so many of us with your joy. With your presence. But that doesn't mean you have to be the strong one, the happy one all the time. You're allowed to fall. You're allowed to feel sad unnie."
Yubin stayed quiet for a long moment.
Then her hand twitched just slightly, and her fingers curled faintly around Hayeon's.
It was weak. So weak.
But it was something.
Her lips trembled. Her throat moved like she was swallowing back something sharp.
"I didn’t want to die," she said finally. "Not really."
Hayeon looked up.
Yubin’s gaze met hers, glassy and unfocused, but not empty anymore.
"I just didn’t want to hurt anymore."
Her eyes watered, and she blinked rapidly to hold them back.
"It felt like no matter how loud the crowd was, I was disappearing. Like, even when the fans screamed my name, I couldn’t hear them."
Hayeon leaned closer, pressing Yubin’s hand to her cheek.
"You’re still here, unnie. You’re here. And we’re not going to let you fade. Not now. Not ever. Me, the girls, the fans. We’ll be there, unnie. We’ll show you you’re wrong,” she murmured. “About not deserving it. About being better off gone. About everything.”
Her voice broke slightly. “Even if it takes every single day.”
Yubin blinked. Slow. As if those words were something she hadn’t dared hope to hear.
And then, just barely, Yubin’s lips curled.
A twitch. A shift. A flicker of something that hadn’t been there in months.
A real smile.
It wasn’t wide. It wasn’t bright. It wasn’t the smile fans cheered for, or the one she gave staff after a long practice. It was small. Fragile. But it was real.
Hayeon let out a breath she didn’t know she’d been holding.
The room was still heavy. The shadows hadn’t disappeared. The pain hadn’t been erased.
But something had changed.
Yubin was still here.
Alive.
And that meant everything could begin again.
The soft sound of the air purifier filled the space. Somewhere outside the window, a siren passed in the distance. The city, uncaring, kept moving forward.
But in that little room with nothing but a tangle of hands, and tears, and small, genuine smiles, time felt suspended.
“Will you stay?” Yubin whispered, hoarse.
Hayeon looked at her, blinking through the last of her tears.
“Of course,” she said, like it was the easiest thing in the world. “I’m not going anywhere.”
Yubin’s eyes fluttered closed. Her hand remained in Hayeon’s.
There was still so much pain ahead. So many things to fix. Conversations to have. Healing to start.
But for now, there was this.
A promise.
A breath.
A heartbeat.
___
Healing isn’t a straight line.
There are days Yubin wakes up feeling the weight of the world still pressing down on her chest. Days where the laughter of her members rings hollow in her ears, like she’s a ghost watching from the edge. Days where she wonders if anything has really changed at all.
But now there’s always someone.
Like how Seoyeon wordlessly places her favorite strawberry yogurt on her lap after schedules. Or when Sohyun drags her out to the rooftop, where they lie on their backs and count airplanes overhead. Sohyun never says anything heavy. She just keeps her company, the silence filled with a thousand unspoken promises.
There’s a night where she almost spirals. The dorm is quiet. She feels the hollowness crawl back in.
She stares at the ceiling in her room, phone turned face-down, light off. The hum of the air conditioner is her only company.
Until there's a knock.
Hayeon peeks in.
“Unnie? I can’t sleep,” she lies. They both know she’s lying.
Yubin pats the bed beside her.
They lie there in silence. Shoulder to shoulder. Breathing in rhythm.
Eventually, Yubin whispers, “Thank you.”
Hayeon doesn’t ask for what. She just holds her hand.
She starts finding joy again. The real joy. When the fans chant her name during encore stages. When Joobin beams at her from across the dance studio. When Jiwoo calls her a thief for stealing her last dumpling, and Yubin sticks out her tongue.
She no longer hides behind the happy mask. She learns to live inside it.
One day, after practice, Yooyeon walks beside her.
"You’re smiling for real again."
Yubin tilts her head. "I guess I am."
"It looks good on you."
And for once, Yubin doesn’t feel the need to pretend.
She’s healing. Slowly. With cracks still in her heart. But she’s not alone. Never again.
She knows now. It’s okay to fall, as long as someone’s there to help you back up.
And her members, her sisters always will be.