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The cool autumn breeze of Seoul swept across the balcony Jihyo stood on, the hum of cars racing across the highway below faintly making its way up to Jihyo’s penthouse.
Her arms rested on the railing, a glass of whiskey in one hand and a half-burned cigarette between her fingers.
Jihyo stared out into the vast space and distance of the night sky, the sprawling wonder of the Seoul nightscape only serving to make her feel more lonely than anything else, as out of touch with everything as the height of her penthouse itself.
She sighs and brings the cigarette to her lips and takes a long drag of it, letting the smoke settle heavily in her lungs before she shakily exhales, white nicotine smoke curling into the dark starless night.
Jihyo shuts her eyes and leans her head back, feeling tears start to burn in her eyes as they welled up and she takes another drag of the cigarette.
Jihyo doesn’t usually indulge in smoking since it harms her vocal chords and lungs but tonight, like the several other nights where she feels ridden with guilt and shame, she gives in.
It’s been years and somehow, Jihyo hasn’t found a way to forgive herself for what she said back then.
How could she have been so insensitive and rash?
What if Jeongyeon had taken it the wrong way?
What good of a leader is she when she allowed herself to say things like that?
Jihyo feels sick to her stomach again and her chest feels heavy so immediately, she takes a huge swig of the whiskey, feeling it burn and numb her chest pleasantly as she swallows.
It’s now 2025 and Jeongyeon is back healthier than ever and TWICE is doing extremely well globally.
Yet, some parts of Jihyo are still stuck in 2021, in that time that felt like an eternal hell.
Jihyo is about to down the entire glass of whiskey when the sharp sound of her door keypad being unlocked draws her out of her spiralling trance, her head snapping around to the living room.
Who is unlocking her door at 2AM? She doesn’t have any planned visitors.
Before Jihyo can fully kick into fight or flight, the door opens and there, she sees the person who has been plaguing her thoughts tonight.
Jeongyeon.
They locked eyes and whatever smile Jeongyeon had plastered on her face at first fell when her eyes followed Jihyo’s hand to see a cigarette in it.
Jihyo follows her gaze and realises what she’s looking at.
Shit.
Jihyo quickly snubs it out and swallows the lump in her throat as she sees Jeongyeon hurriedly kicking off her shoes and making her way over to Jihyo out on the balcony.
Jeongyeon’s voice makes its way to Jihyo before she even slides open the sliding glass door.
“Yah Park Jihyo are you smoking??!” Jeongyeon exclaims as she throws open the door.
Jihyo manages a sheepish smile, mouthing an “oops”.
Jeongyeon opens her mouth to presumably say more but when she sees the glass of whiskey that Jihyo had been nursing, she traces her eyes back up to Jihyo’s and closes her mouth.
Jeongyeon hadn’t expected to see Jihyo’s usual bright eyes completely void of all emotions.
Jeongyeon’s demeanor softens immediately, placing down the paper bag of fruits she had brought with her on the floor for now.
She takes a step forward with her arms out, wanting to reach out to Jihyo but halts in shock and fear when Jihyo takes half a step back.
“Jihyo-yah…”
Jihyo sniffles, the cold of the night getting to her as she looks away from Jeongyeon, Jeongyeon’s gaze way too piercing for her.
“Sorry it’s just... I didn’t expect you tonight.” Jihyo croaks out as she settles against the railing again, back faced to Jeongyeon.
Jeongyeon takes off her leather jacket wordlessly and places it on Jihyo who flinches at first but Jeongyeon keeps a firm hand on her shoulder.
“I texted you that I’m coming to drop off some fruits because my dad brought back the peaches that you like.” Jeongyeon says softly.
Jihyo blinks.
“Oh. Sorry, I didn’t have my phone with me.”
“It’s fine.”
Then silence.
Jihyo’s mind is racing to come up with a new topic or to shift the attention to something else because the last thing she needs is Jeongyeon asking her what’s wrong, and her having to bring up something that should’ve been long buried.
“Thanks for the uhh… peaches. Do you want some tea? You must’ve had a tough time driving here at this hour.” Jihyo shifts on her feet, already turning to move inside.
“Jihyo wh-” Jeongyeon starts.
Jihyo doesn’t give Jeongyeon a chance to finish her sentence as she rushes to open the sliding door to the living room.
“I think I still have some barley tea that you like in the fridge!” Jihyo chirps as she walks hastily inside but before she can even take 3 steps into her living room, Jeongyeon grabs onto her wrist.
“Jihyo.”
Jihyo tries to shake away Jeongyeon but Jeongyeon only holds on tighter.
“I think I have some-”
“JIHYO PLEASE!” Jeongyeon raises her voice as she grabs Jihyo by the shoulders now, turning her around.
Feeling Jihyo flinch underneath her touch, Jeongyeon softens her grip a little.
“Jihyo-yah please… Will you look at me?” Jeongyeon says, worry lacing her voice.
Jeongyeon doesn’t know what’s going on, her mind is racing 90 miles per minute as to why Jihyo is acting like this in the first place.
Jihyo rarely smokes, even in social settings because she prioritises her vocal health so that was already a red flag.
Drinking? Being so… distant?
Jihyo’s wrist is tightly in her hand but Jihyo feels miles away, somewhere completely out of Jeongyeon’s reach.
This time when Jihyo looks up at Jeongyeon again, her eyes are red and brimming with tears.
Jeongyeon’s breath catches in her throat, her eyes desperately trying to search for a hint of what was up with Jihyo.
“Hyo… What’s wrong?”
Jihyo pursed her lips together and shook her head as she allowed her tears to fall.
“It’s nothing, I-I’m sorry… It’s just-”
Jihyo tries to speak but fails as nothing but sobs come out of her mouth.
Jeongyeon doesn’t say anything but instead, she quickly lets go of Jihyo to take the peaches in, close the sliding door of the balcony before gently guiding a sobbing Jihyo to the couch.
She sits down on the leather couch before guiding Jihyo onto her lap, hugging her and holding her close as she allows Jihyo to bury herself into her embrace.
“It’s okay, you’re okay, I’m right here.” Jeongyeon shushes her as she rubs Jihyo’s back comfortingly.
Yet, this made Jihyo cry harder and tighten her hold on Jeongyeon.
She doesn’t deserve to be held like this by Jeongyeon.
Not when this was what she should’ve done when Jeongyeon was in so much pain.
Maybe in another world, she would’ve said something different, done something kinder like this, instead of snapping at the very same person she wanted to protect.
Maybe in another world, the space that had formed back then wasn’t one between them but one where they could leave and cast their worries into.
Maybe in another world, Jeongyeon would not need to go through such pain to begin with.
They stay like this for a long time, Jeongyeon isn’t sure how much time passed before Jihyo’s sobs finally weaned off into hiccups and sniffles.
When Jihyo takes a considerable steady breath in, her voice is shaky and hoarse but she says into the crook of Jeongyeon’s neck,
“Jeongyeon-ah… I’m s-sorry. I’m so sorry”, Jihyo’s voice cracks and trembles under the weight of her apology, hands clutching tighter onto Jeongyeon’s sweater.
Jeongyeon doesn’t say anything at first, not that she’s sure of what to say in this sudden situation.
Instead, she just lets her hand glide slowly up and down Jihyo’s back, fingertips tracing slow circles between her shoulder blades, grounding her. She can feel the tremors racking through Jihyo’s small frame as Jihyo tries to calm herself down.
“What are you sorry for? What’s wrong hm?” Jeongyeon says, voice low and soft like she’s scared of scaring Jihyo away.
Jihyo shakes her head again, just holding her closer.
Jeongyeon wills herself not to tear up at how utterly desolate Jihyo feels right now.
“Talk to me, please Jihyo-yah...”
It takes more coaxing and a long time before Jihyo finally detaches herself from Jeongyeon, eyes swollen and red and dried tear streaks on her cheeks, lips still slightly trembling, Jihyo looking ever soft and small in the dim orange glow of the living room lamp.
If Jeongyeon’s heart could visibly break, it would be in smithereens on the floor right now.
“I’m sorry for that time…” Jihyo’s voice is barely a whisper.
Jeongyeon tilts her head, confused for a brief moment, before understanding dawns on her face.
Oh.
Is this what she thinks it is?
“What time?” she asks carefully, even though part of her already knows, she would rather hear that she’s wrong.
Please for the love of God don’t let it be that.
“Your hiatus.”
Jeongyeon feels her heart sink to her stomach.
The word lands heavy between them.
The room suddenly feels smaller, quieter, even the hum of the refrigerator in the kitchen seems to fade away as the walls close around them.
“Jihyo…” Jeongyeon’s voice is strained, her fingers twitching at the back of Jihyo’s sweater.
Jihyo looks down, unable to meet Jeongyeon’s gaze.
“I said something I shouldn’t have at all. I told you…” She bites her lip hard, as if punishing herself for even daring to bring this up at all.
“I told you not to do the concerts with us if you couldn’t take it, to stop pushing yourself to practice if you clearly can’t do it. I even told you that if you continued doing that, you were not helping us at- at all. I told you that in front of everyone. When you were already… already suffering and breaking.”
Jeonyeon’s heart twists in her chest, her lips twitching.
Has Jihyo been holding onto this since then and beating herself up for it?
“You were trying so hard and giving it your all,” Jihyo continues, words spilling like a broken dam now,
“You were fighting your body, your mind, your injury. You were fighting everything to try to make it back to us but I made you feel like you weren’t enough. Like you were dragging us down and being a burden instead. I said that because I was scared, not because I meant it. It’s been years and I can’t stop hearing my own voice saying it and the look on your face is just… It haunts me every time I see you tired, every time we perform together on-stage, it just—”
Jihyo chokes again, her voice breaking into yet another sob.
“I hate myself for it, Jeong. I fucking hate that I hurt you when all you ever did was try. I don’t know why I said that or where it come from and maybe I’m just a bad person and a horrible leader who says things like that, like a fucking idiot.”
Jeongyeon feels her own throat close up.
She faintly remembers that time, all of the exhaustion, the medication, the guilt she carried for slowing the group down and causing the other members stress.
But the exact words? They’d long blurred into the haze of her recovery and disassociation.
Even then, she knew that it was never in Jihyo’s heart to say things like that, that she most definitely didn’t mean it.
Jeongyeon doesn’t even recall being mad or hurt about it.
Still, seeing Jihyo unravel like this makes her realise just how deeply those words must’ve carved themselves into Jihyo’s heart, burning and painful.
God had she known that Jihyo had been at war with herself, she would’ve done something, comforted Jihyo much earlier than now.
If she hadn’t come over tonight, how many more years would Jihyo cling onto this guilt and pain that she felt she couldn’t share?
Would Jihyo carry this into her grave in hopes that she could repent over it in the next lifetime?
“Jihyo,” Jeongyeon says softly, lifting a hand to cup her cheek, brushing away the falling tears with her thumb.
“I forgave you a long time ago. Actually,” she pauses, trying to steady her own voice,
“I never blamed you to begin with.”
Instead of being comforted, a flicker of anger flashes past Jihyo’s face.
Not one that was directed at her, no.
One at herself.
“But you should have!” Jihyo cries.
“You should’ve yelled at me, hated me, literally anything! You didn’t deserve that. You were the one who was hurting, and I just had to be reckless and —”
Jeongyeon gently presses a finger to Jihyo’s lips to quiet her.
“Stop.”
Her voice is gentle but firm, a tone that cuts through Jihyo’s spiraling guilt.
Jeongyeon takes a breath to ground herself first.
“You were hurting too, Jihyo. You carried all of our burdens on your shoulders when I couldn’t. You think I didn’t see it? You think I didn’t notice how tired you were, how scared you were of losing us, of losing me? You said something out of fear. That doesn’t make you a bad person, it makes you human. God, you were fighting your own anxiety back then and I wanted to be there for you but I lost my own mind.”
A breath and Jeongyeon gently moves a hand to cup Jihyo’s cheek, tender and reverent.
More tears fall silently from Jihyo’s eyes and Jeongyeon feels her own eyes sting.
“I barely even remember those words anymore, hyo. What I do remember is you checking on me every night after that, even when you were fighting your own battles, even when you were busy trying to make up for my absence in the group. You brought me food, vitamins, silly notes… You never stopped being my leader, our leader. More importantly, you never stopped being my best friend. That was more than enough, Jihyo-yah.”
Jeongyeon wraps her arms around Jihyo again, pulling her in until their foreheads touch, letting her own tears well now.
“You didn’t hurt me. Well you couldn’t hurt a person that was already at rock bottom and wallowing in her own mess.”
Jihyo closes her eyes, the proximity making her want to shrink into herself but opens her eyes when Jeongyeon’s hand moves up to cradle the back of her head.
Jeongyeon is smiling faintly, her own eyes glassy as a few tears slip past her eyes as she looks into Jihyo’s own pained eyes.
“So please Jihyo-yah, stop beating yourself up for something that wasn’t even your fault, hm?”
Jihyo sniffles and wordlessly, she hugs Jeongyeon tight with all of her strength, burying her face into the crown of Jeongyeon’s head.
“I was afraid that I was going to lose you for good.” Jihyo whispers into Jeongyeon’s hair.
Jeongyeon lets out a small sob at that before pulling away slightly and looking at Jihyo.
“I was terrified of losing you too, Park Jihyo. Even more than myself.”
Jihyo pouts a little at the confession, her heart twisting a little but she wipes away Jeongyeon’s tears with her hands.
“Thank you for getting ahold of your heart and coming back to me, to us.”
Jeongyeon smiles genuinely now, her eyes forming little crescents despite the remnants of her tears.
“Thank you for not letting go of me.”
Jeongyeon doesn’t know what came over her but she leans in, pressing her mouth against Jihyo’s, soft yet urgent.
Jihyo gasps softly, slightly taken aback but quickly, she opens her mouth slightly to deepen the kiss.
The kiss was soft and reverent but bordering on the edge of need.
The need to show each other how grateful they were, how sorry they both were, how within the haze of platonic and romantic, there was them.
As Jeongyeon tugged slightly on Jihyo’s lips, Jihyo pulled away with a pop, a string of saliva connecting both their kiss-swollen lips, eyes searching Jeongyeon’s face.
“W-wait Jeong. You know that if we go any further, there’s no going back, right?”
Jeongyeon scoffs a little, only pressing Jihyo closer by the small of her back and whispers,
“There is already no going back.”
With that, Jeongyeon crashes their lips together again and this time, Jihyo is the one who takes the lead in the kiss, tongues fighting for dominance but Jihyo eventually wins, pulling away and starts trailing open mouth kisses down Jeongyeon’s jaw.
Jeongyeon huffs at the sensation of Jihyo’s lips against her neck as she slides off her leather jacket off of Jihyo, licking her lips as she comments,
“By the way you taste like whiskey, ash, and regret.”
Jihyo freezes midway and looks up at Jeongyeon incredulously.
“You’re not serious.”
Jeongyeon blinks.
She was.
“I am.”
Jihyo groans and rolls her eyes, any sort of desperate burning fire momentarily dying off.
“You couldn’t have waited for a better time to say that?”
Jeongyeon just grins, sniffling away the last of her tears and pressing a kiss on Jihyo’s forehead.
“Sorry, I just had to. Is this how you’ve been coping?” Jeongyeon asks calmly.
Jihyo bit the inside of her cheek.
“Yeah… kinda. I don’t smoke and drink all the time, I just do it when it gets too much.” Jihyo mumbles, a little embarrassed.
“Liar.”
Jihyo physically recoils back at this, looking at Jeongyeon with wide crazed eyes.
“I’m serious! I don’t smoke often!”
Jeongyeon laughs, warm and bright.
“No, of course I know that. I meant drinking. You’re like the biggest social drinker amongst us.” Jeongyeon states as a matter of fact and Jihyo just swats at Jeongyeon’s chest lightly.
“I’m not an alcoholic, I just indulge in it SOMETIMES when the mood is good.” Jihyo protests.
“Or bad I guess.” Jeongyeon snickers at the pout that forms on Jihyo’s lips.
“I’m just joking hyo. You’re an adult, you do what you want. I’m just saying that the next time you’re hurting, talk to me. Don’t just try to drown it out with nicotine and whiskey because clearly it hasn’t worked anyway.” Jeongyeon follows, sincere and pleading.
Jihyo sighs a little, fiddling with the collar of Jeongyeon’s grey sweater, eyes trained on the slightly frayed ends of it.
“I know it’s just… There are so many things that I feel responsible for and that I feel like I should shoulder on my own and this… This was difficult to mention in the first place because I was scared. I was scared that you may still be angry and hurt even if you rightfully should be. If you were, I wouldn’t know what to say or do other than apologise and that seemed pathetic to me so I just… Yeah.”
Jeongyeon takes in a breath at her words, inhaling the faint scent of Jihyo’s perfume, all woody and musky, comforting and reliable.
Which Jeongyeon thinks is true but Jihyo often comes off as more headstrong than she actually is.
To everyone else, Jihyo is overflowing with ambition, burning with pure fiery passion and leadership, independent and a force to deal with.
Maybe it’s because of how young they met — before their lives and status were bigger than themselves, before fame, success, and ambition became their shackles, before their younger selves were all devoured by their own dreams and then spat back out, before Jihyo was any kind of hero or villain, before the spotlight became suffocating instead.
Before Jihyo stood on her own grave just to protect her, to protect them.
“Jeong..?”
Jihyo’s soft voice dragged her out of her spiral of thoughts.
“Yeah sorry… I was just thinking.” Jeongyeon apologises and Jihyo looks a little scared, as if she had said too much and scared Jeongyeon away.
Jeongyeon kisses Jihyo again, a soft press of lips.
“It’s not about you, stop overthinking.”
Jihyo squints her eyes doubtfully.
“You know that you suck at lying, right?”
Jeongyeon blushes a little.
“Okay fine maybe I was but it’s not anything negative, at least I don’t think it is. Just… realisations.”
Jihyo hums and leans their foreheads together once more.
Jihyo thinks she knows what Jeongyeon thought, or well at least she could tell from her facial expressions earlier anyway.
“You know, I would do this all over again right? Being TWICE’s leader, being TWICE… Even if this thorny road was anything but a flower path.”
Jeongyeon’s lips twitched faintly but she didn't smile.
“Why would you do that to yourself? I don’t even think I could repeat half of this.”
Jihyo doesn’t even hesitate.
“Because you’re here.”
Jihyo closes her eyes.
It’s now or never.
“And because I think I love you.”
There’s a beat too long and Jihyo shifts, worried that she has said something out of line, and she opens her mouth to start backpaddling but Jeongyeon just smiles, soft and genuine.
“Took you long enough, Park Jihyo.”
When Jeongyeon kisses Jihyo again this time, it’s soft and gooey and warm, and Jihyo feels tears in the midst of their kisses but she doesn’t know whose it was.
It didn’t matter.
Right now?
The only thing that matters is that Jeongyeon was here, alive and breathing, even though she has claw marks on her from how hard Jihyo was holding onto her then.
She is here, she sees Jihyo, she’s still fighting.
By the time Jihyo had her next conscious thought, she was laying on her back on her bed, Jeongyeon over her, warm hands roaming her body urgently.
Jihyo fell apart for and on Jeongyeon that night, whispered pleas and tears as Jeongyeon’s fingers and tongue worked to say things she couldn’t, worked to give Jihyo a comfort that only she can.
Jihyo repaid the favour, a little softer than Jeongyeon’s attempt, kisses pressed against her injured shoulder and neck, over Jeongyeon’s tummy that she felt insecure about for so long, each kiss a worship and apology. When Jeongyeon finally came all over Jihyo’s fingers with a soft cry, Jihyo just held her as she was, fingers softly helping a sensitive Jeongyeon over her high.
Morning came early, and perhaps a little too quick for Jeongyeon’s liking.
The first light of dawn creeps quietly through the sheer curtains of Jihyo’s bedroom, painting the room in a wash of gold and soft warmth.
The air still carries that early stillness, the kind that exists just before the city begins to stir, when even the Han River outside looks calm, its surface catching the sunlight in slow lazy ripples.
Jeongyeon squints a little at the ray of sun that decided her face was the perfect landing target instead of a tree somewhere, inhaling sharply before she registers where she was, or the small body of warmth curled into her.
Jihyo was laid almost on-top of her, legs tangled with hers under the bedsheets, the bare of her back glimmering softly in the morning light, the soft messy curls of her hair catching strands of gold where the sunlight touches it.
Jihyo was deep in sleep, warm breaths of air against Jeongyeon’s collarbone, and Jeongyeon just looks, staring down at Jihyo for a long long time.
Jihyo’s face that was usually so sharp with focus and responsibility, is serene and unguarded now, softened into something that makes Jeongyeon’s heart ache.
Her lashes cast faint shadows across her cheeks, her pink lips slightly parted, her body curled instinctively closer to Jeongyeon’s warmth, causing Jeongyeon to gently pull the blankets over their bare bodies so Jihyo doesn’t catch a chill.
Jeongyeon can’t remember the last time she saw her like this, not performing, not leading, not holding herself together for everyone else.
Just… Park Jihyo. The girl beneath the leader, the 13 year old girl that she knew.
She shifts slightly, careful not to wake her since Jihyo was a light sleeper, and brushes her thumb lightly along Jihyo’s cheek.
The skin beneath her thumb was warm and impossibly soft.
Jihyo stirs a little at the contact, a quiet hum escaping her throat as she burrows even closer, pressing her face against Jeongyeon’s collarbone with a sleepy noise.
Jeongyeon smiles, tender and tired all at once.
Maybe I could get used to this, she thinks.
Waking up with Jihyo in her arms like this, soft, unguarded, safe.
If this respite what she could give to Jihyo after everything that Jihyo does for her, for them, then Jeongyeon prays that she can do so for a lifetime and even more.
Slowly, Jeongyeon leans down and presses a slow, barely-there kiss to the top of Jihyo’s head, breathing in the faint scent of her shampoo, vanilla and blackcurrant, a scent that feels like home, and a lot like something else she isn’t sure she has the courage to name yet.
Her hand moves up to stroke gentle patterns along Jihyo’s back, tracing down the curve of her spine, until she feels Jihyo start to stir.
“Mm…” Jihyo murmurs, voice hoarse and drowsy. Her eyelids flutter open just enough for her to look up. “It's morning already?”
Jeongyeon hums softly, her voice still low with sleep.
“Yeah. The sun decided to show off for us today. We should’ve closed the curtains properly.” She tilts her chin toward the golden light spilling across the bed.
Jihyo’s gaze drifts lazily to the window before returning to Jeongyeon, her lips curving into a small, sleepy pout.
“S’ too bright,” she whines, trying to nuzzle back into Jeongyeon’s neck.
Jeongyeon laughs quietly, the sound vibrating against Jihyo’s skin.
“No one asked you to look at it,” she teases, pressing a kiss to Jihyo’s forehead.
Jihyo lets out a string of grumbles and curses that Jeongyeon is pretty sure were directed at her.
She chooses not to comment on it.
“Did you sleep well?” Jeongyeon asks softly as she caresses Jihyo’s waist softly, feeling some goosebumps rise from Jihyo at the touch.
Jihyo lifts her head a little and opens her eyes a little wider, a faint blush colouring her cheeks.
“I slept well,” she admits quietly. “First time in… I don’t even remember how long.”
“I probably tired you out last night…” Jeongyeon comments sheepishly.
“You don’t say. I’m sore in places I didn’t know I could be sore in.”
“Oops.” Jeongyeon says apologetically (she wasn’t).
Jihyo just gives her a stink eye before rolling off her and immediately, Jeongyeon misses the warmth already.
She drags Jihyo back into her embrace, tucking Jihyo’s head underneath her chin and pats her back.
“Someone is clingy in the morning…. Like a cuddly cactus.”
Jeongyeon just laughs.
“Wasn’t that song written for me anyway?”
A pregnant pause.
“Nope!” Jihyo quips and tries to sit up but fails. Jeongyeon was stupidly strong.
Jeongyeon grins, eyes suddenly glinting with that familiar mix of mischief and tenderness.
Oh no.
“Oh, really?” she teases, tightening her hold just enough to keep Jihyo from escaping.
“Because I distinctly remember some lyrics that sounded a lot like they were for me.”
“I— no, they weren’t!” Jihyo protests, though her voice wavers, and her ears start to burn red.
“Oh yeah? So “ The warm words you gave me back then, the you who didn’t say a word from that day” was about Ang-ie and not from the day you came to scold me?” Jeongyeon muses.
Jihyo groans, hiding her face against Jeongyeon’s collarbone.
“Stop it.”
“Oh so, “If I go to find you first, please hold me.” was meant for that cactus too?” Jeongyeon teases again.
“Shut upppp~” Jihyo can only whine into Jeongyeon’s hold, swatting weakly at her chest.
Jeongyeon only laughs, the sound warm and rich.
“No, I want to know. You really expect anyone to believe you wrote such a devastating song over a dead cactus you forgot to water for a month? Which by the way, tragic.”
Jihyo’s muffled whine comes out somewhere between a laugh and a whimper.
“It was about the cactus!”
Jeongyeon smirks, fingers suddenly finding the sensitive spot at Jihyo’s side.
“Liar.”
“Jeong—no! Stop!” Jihyo squeals, trying to twist away, laughter spilling from her lips uncontrollably.
Jeongyeon takes full advantage, tickling her mercilessly, her laughter mixing with Jihyo’s until the whole room feels alive with it, the warmth not only coming from the rising sun now.
“I knew it!” Jeongyeon declares triumphantly as Jihyo wriggles and squirms.
“Confess or I’m going to tickle you forever!”
“Jeong! I can’t breathe!” Jihyo gasps, clutching at her stomach, tears of laughter streaking down her cheeks.
“Then admit it!” and the tickling doubled.
“Fine! Fine!” Jihyo finally blurts between breathless giggles, finally managing to sit up properly and out of Jeongyeon's grasp.
“It’s partially about you, okay?”
Jeongyeon stops tickling, grinning wide, her hair slightly messy, eyes bright with affection.
“Only partially?” she echoes, pretending to pout.
Jihyo takes a deep breath, still laughing softly, her cheeks glowing with warmth.
“Well… okay maybe more than partially,” she murmurs, her voice quieter now, softer, almost shy.
“I just didn’t think you’d figure it out so soon. Or maybe even if you did, you would never say anything.”
Jeongyeon relaxes, her teasing smile fading into something gentler.
She brushes Jihyo’s hair back, smoothing over the wild bed hair from sleep and the tickle saga.
“I knew from the second I heard it,” she admits quietly.
“But it felt like your way of saying things you couldn’t find the courage to say out loud… so I didn’t push.”
Jihyo’s lips part slightly, her heart thudding in her chest for another reason other than being tickled.
“So.... you knew all this time?”
“Mm,” Jeongyeon hums, leaning in to press a slow kiss to Jihyo’s forehead.
“You wear your heart and blood in your music, Hyo. You always have. I didn’t need you to tell me verbally, it was enough that I could feel it.”
The sun was well over the Han river now, shining brightly into the room now, and Jeongyeon thinks that Jihyo truly is the sun goddess with how good she looks bathed in the morning light.
Jeongyeon sits up now and hugs Jihyo, ignoring the feeling she gets from their bare chests pressing together.
“I always know Jihyo-yah… I know you.”
Jihyo’s heart warmed and melted at the words, aching a little.
In this universe where they were constantly being seen and analysed, she is thankful that there’s someone who knows her, beneath all of the splendour and whirlwind of idol life.
There’s a pause, heavy but tender, before Jihyo whispers,
“I’m glad you knew. Even if I couldn’t find it in me to say it.”
Jeongyeon just smiles sleepily and presses another kiss, this time to Jihyo’s temple, lingering there as if to seal the moment.
“I always will.”
Jihyo smiles faintly, her hand reaching up to rest over Jeongyeon’s heart, feeling the steady and strong pulse beneath her hand.
“I think… this cactus finally bloomed.”
Jeongyeon chuckles softly, eyes glimmering with something deeper.
“Yeah,” she says.
“And I’m just lucky that the idiot finally remembered to water it this time and brought it back to life.”
Jeongyeon was met promptly with a pillow to the face.
They stay like that, tangled in warmth and quiet laughter, sunlight spilling across the sheets, two people who’ve hurt, healed, and somehow found their way back to each other in love and light.
And maybe, just maybe.
Somewhere in the near future, Jihyo will finally forgive herself.
And hopefully, just hopefully.
In another universe and timeline, Jeongyeon and Jihyo would be able to write their story together without so much pain, chaos, and scrutiny.
That there would be another world where with enough delicate blooms of a cactus, they could live a little less cautiously.
In that other world, they’d write songs not out of heartbreak and unspoken feelings, but instead out of the sheer joy of having found each other.
Their melodies would sound different. Perhaps softer and lighter, like the morning sunlight that filters through the curtains when Jeongyeon’s still half asleep, with Jihyo’s hand loosely draped across her chest, two hearts beating in sync.
In that gentler universe, the cactus wouldn’t be a metaphor for endurance or pain.
It would simply be a plant that thrives under the care of two people who finally learned how to give and receive love without fear. The blooms would come more often, delicate and bright, instead of after hardships and misunderstandings.
They would never know but Jeongyeon likes to believe that somewhere out there, another version of them is happy without the ache, without the oversized lives and status where they laughed more, loved harder, freer, and less agonisingly.
And maybe, Jeongyeon thinks, as she watches the morning light dance across Jihyo’s smiling face in this reality, maybe even if they can’t have that world now, they can still have moments that feel like it.
Moments that smell like coffee and sound like quiet laughter under the covers.
Moments where forgiveness isn’t a promise but a given, gentle and ongoing.
Moments where love, despite everything and themselves, still chooses to bloom no matter the harshness.