Chapter Text
Sooyoung never manages to broach the topic.
In between meetings and practice and yet more meetings, they barely get enough time to rest. Sooyoung doesn’t manage to talk to Jinsol alone. She casts longing glances at her whenever Jungeun and Hyejoo’s backs are turned—she’s certain that Jinsol knows , but it’s impossible to not think about the stupid elephant in the room when Jinsol is always right there in front of her, tantalisingly within an arm’s reach.
Sooyoung blinks, and suddenly it’s been a week.
Chuu’s agency sends them a fifty page contract. Their band’s manager had gotten his hands on it beforehand; he had circled the part about payment on the first page and added a little sticky label on the side— enough????. Sooyoung flips through the document gingerly, catches the words film and prolonged skinship shamelessly in bold, and drops the stack of papers like she’s been burnt.
Something about seeing their agreement printed out like this leaves a bad taste in her mouth. Sooyoung decides that she doesn’t really need to read it.
“You really shouldn’t sign things without at least skimming through them,” Jinsol says, watching Sooyoung flop back down on the sofa. “That’s like, rule number one of life. Who raised you?”
Sooyoung searches for maliciousness in her tone out of habit, but there isn’t any. When it’s just the two of them, Jinsol is a different person; stinging barbs replaced with something less guarded. Sooyoung decides to relax back into the sofa, cheek squished against the soft cushioning of the seat.
“Yeah, yeah, whatever.” She raises a dangling arm to flap her hand in Jinsol’s general direction. “It’s too early for this. Give me a pen?”
Jinsol sends her an unamused look. Any sane person would have taken it as a threat; but instead, Sooyoung has to push down the smile threatening to spread across her face.
Maybe it’s the fact that Jinsol looks younger without her raccoon eyeliner on. When it’s just a day at the company, no threat of being recognised on the street, she doesn’t bother with her usual dark makeup and her signature fishnets. She can’t remove the purple streaks in her hair, but still, Jinsol feels much more human like this; less angry and intimidating. Sooyoung loves this version of her just as much as she loves the performer.
How can she not? It’s so much harder to not fall in love with Jinsol. Sooyoung doesn’t blame their fans, really, for the way they adore her.
Sooyoung takes one look at Jinsol, at the soft roundness of her cheeks; and her resolve crumbles. With the pout on her face, Jinsol looks like she could be one of the kids that Sooyoung had babysat as a teenager, when they would stick their bottom lips out and beg until Sooyoung gave them her phone, so that they could play Angry Birds or whatever dumb game that was trendy with the kids on it.
The opportunity to tease Jinsol is right there…
“Please, baby,” Sooyoung coos, rolling over to face Jinsol and puckering up her lips. “You look so pretty today. Do you have foundation on? Your skin looks so good...”
“I know what you’re doing, Ha Sooyoung,” Jinsol informs her, but Sooyoung catches the pleased expression flitting over her face a moment before it disappears. “You look ridiculous like this.”
Sooyoung props her head up with an arm. “I’ll make it worth your time if you just pass me the goddamned pen,” she says, tilting her head, exposing the smooth expanse of her neck. Sooyoung knows that she’s good-looking, she had coasted along in life because of it. She knows how to use it to her advantage. And even though Jinsol likes to pretend that she’s all rough edges and angry guitar riffs, Sooyoung still knows her enough to tell when she’s in the mood to fool around with Sooyoung. Sure enough, after a split second of eye contact, Jinsol grabs the pen by her side and flings it at Sooyoung. “I guess the company would have read it before passing it to us,” she grumbles, ducking her head, but Sooyoung still sees her cheeks redden.
Sooyoung grins in victory. She pushes herself up with a groan, reaching for the contract and scribbling down her name at the bottom. She steals a look at Jinsol’s disgruntled face— and before she can change her mind, Sooyoung lunges across the table to press a fleeting kiss to Jinsol’s cheek. Immediately afterwards, she curls back up on the sofa, burying her face into the gap between the backrest and the seat, trying to calm her racing heart.
She doesn’t quite dare to look for Jinsol’s reaction.
Sooyoung is impulsive. Sooyoung is headstrong and she doesn’t really quite love music the way the rest of her band does; she just likes being able to meet their fans and listen to people tell her that she’s touched their lives. She likes the thrill of drumming, she likes laying her head on Jinsol’s chest and listening to her heartbeat.
When it’s just her and Jinsol, it’s so easy that Sooyoung thinks that she can do this forever.
“Sooyoung,” Jinsol says. When Sooyoung looks up, Jinsol’s staring at her with this imploring look in her eyes that Sooyoung hasn’t quite figured out, but knows enough that it means that she’s going to get a kiss out of it. “Come here.”
Sooyoung gladly obliges.
Sometimes Sooyoung hates being in a band, really. It’s nine at night. The sky outside is dark; any other person with a normal, boring office job would be packing up or having drinks after work, but because of the possibility of touring and Jungeun signing them up for charity performances, they’re still stuck in the meeting room. Even their manager is looking a little worn out.
“ —so yes, we’re ready to book everything and we’ve started thinking about setlists, but we’re not going to say anything until the teasers for your next album drop. Good publicity, you know. It’ll get everyone talking about the new album—think of the headlines! The Exiled, the first female rock band to have sold-out shows across Asia and a worldwide tour in the works.”
Sooyoung yawns. Their CEO keeps droning on, and Sooyoung keeps her hand steadily on Jinsol’s thigh, other hand propping her head up so she doesn’t nod off. Underneath the table, where no one can see, Jinsol lays her hand on top of Sooyoung’s.
“...and obviously, we’re bringing in producers from the big companies.”
Sooyoung shoots awake. Next to her, Jinsol tenses up.
“We’re working out a deal with YG, but a few other companies have shown interest in lending us producers for this album—now, I know mainstream isn’t exactly The Exiled’s style, Jinsol, but it might be worth exploring a change in direction. The last album didn’t reach the top of the charts like we thought it would.”
Sooyoung gulps, turning to Jinsol, but the girl is already standing up, pushing her chair back with a screech. “Aren’t we producing this one ourselves? I thought that’s what we agreed on last time.”
Their manager spreads his hands and leans forward, a clear bead of sweat trickling down his shiny forehead. “I know, Jinsol. But the company thinks that— well, the more pizazz the better, you know. Your songs did well when we brought in that producer from overseas.”
“But—”
Their CEO fixes Jinsol with a stern glare. “You kids already have a lot more leeway with this album than you should, considering how badly the last one did on the charts. If this album doesn’t reach our usual standards, we have to rethink the tour.”
Jinsol falls silent, but Sooyoung catches the look that passes between her and Hyejoo. A moment later, Hyejoo’s slamming her hands onto the table, sending her pen rolling onto the floor. “But that’s not what people have been saying! If you just— just read what our fans have been saying online on forums. They liked the honesty! They were proud that we wrote our own songs!”
“Yes, Hyejoo,” their manager interrupts, almost pleadingly, “We’ve seen, but—”
“What if,” muses Jungeun, leaning thoughtfully back in her chair, “we get to pick the concept? We write the songs, we’ll let the producer take over for some of the songs like you want, but we also get to work with them. We did agree on letting us have a more hands-on production last time, remember?”
Jinsol’s mouth falls open. “Jungeun,” she hisses, sounding betrayed.
“Hey, just a suggestion.” Jungeun raises her hands up in surrender. “If we’re not getting the final say on our songs, might as well take advantage of the process.”
Jinsol takes a deep breath in as if to speak, but Sooyoung squeezes her thigh as a warning. Jinsol snaps her mouth shut, but she still scowls down onto the table, hand curling into a fist where no one can see but Sooyoung. Hyejoo’s eyes don’t leave Jinsol.
That’s when the doubt starts creeping in.
Sooyoung is reminded that she doesn’t really know anything about how Jinsol and Hyejoo’s relationship came to settle into this rocky allyship. Even though it's been five years since they met (and four years since they've officially debuted, if she's counting), Sooyoung still feels like she's replaceable sometimes. She had joined the band months after everyone else. Deep inside, an insecure little voice whispers that her bandmates share memories without her, things that they've unanimously decided to keep secret to protect Jinsol. They know things about Jinsol that she doesn't. Sooyoung knows that it’s not her place to pry, but sometimes she finds herself wishing that she could find out who Jinsol had been before the band.
Sooyoung wonders if they only let her stick around as a favour, solely because she is the drummer of their band.
Realistically, she knows that it's not true. It's been long enough that their friendship circles have merged, Jungeun’s cousin Yerim hitting it off right away with Hyejoo and her not-girlfriend Chaewon. Sooyoung has tried introducing Kahei to them, but her friend from her old waitressing job had never quite hit it off with the rest of them the same way Yerim and Chaewon had merged seamlessly into the band, being older and coming from a different country. Sooyoung doesn’t blame Kahei for it. But it still stings to see Jinsol and Hyejoo's bond when they're teasing each other, or to hear about Jungeun and Jinsol's shared vocal lessons at university, and know that she will never be a part of that. And even worse—when Chaewon hangs out with them, Jinsol doesn't have eyes for anyone else. Sooyoung tries not to be a jealous person, but it's hard sometimes.
That's part of the reason why Sooyoung doesn’t mind the way Jungeun obviously looks up to her. Occasionally, she pays extra attention to the girl so she can get a break from thinking about Jinsol. When the little voice niggling in the back of her mind gets too loud, all she can conjure up is the image of the special affection Jinsol reserves for Chaewon, with her little head pats and baby voice, so any distraction from that is welcome. She feels a little guilty treating Jungeun like this, of course, but hey—Jungeun’s well-aware that Jinsol is Sooyoung’s first priority.
Their CEO harrumphs, breaking into the terse silence. “I think I can manage that for you guys.”
Jinsol nods at Hyejoo. Hyejoo’s shoulders relax, and the hard glint in her eye immediately disappears. Sooyoung almost marvels at how quickly her expression shifts to one of pure boredom. “Sure.”
“Right,” their CEO says, looking torn between distaste and reluctant respect. “Anyway, onto the next thing—”
Sooyoung bites her lip, drumming her pen against the table— old habits die hard— and tries not to think about what Hyejoo knows about Jinsol and Sooyoung doesn’t.
When their manager finally calls a break, it’s only because it’s obvious that no one’s focusing. Even Jungeun has lost the usual pep in her voice. Everyone else files out of the room, leaving the band members behind.
“I didn’t know that being in a band would be this boring when I joined,” Jungeun says. Her forehead lands on the table with a thump, hair slowly sliding forward to reveal the rainbow highlights that are usually hidden. “I thought— dunno, that there would be more singing? More actual music? Less meetings?”
“I’ll drink to that,” Sooyoung says.
“Coffee?” Jinsol asks, raising an eyebrow. “Alcohol? Boba?”
Sooyoung pouts. “Whichever.”
“Boba on me,” Hyejoo says from behind Sooyoung, seemingly materialising out of nowhere.
Sooyoung jumps in her seat. “For fuck’s sake!” She clutches at her chest dramatically, waiting for her heart to settle down.
Hyejoo sends her a mocking grin as she strolls back to her seat, pulling out her wallet and brandishing a black rectangle of plastic with pride.
Jinsol gapes. “How did you get that? That’s the company card.”
Hyejoo wiggles her fingers, grinning. “Hyunjin. Taught me how to pickpocket.”
“Like, the Kim Hyunjin?” Jinsol blurts out. “The one that Chaewon has a rivalry with?”
Hyejoo shrugs. “Chaewon got over it. Hyunjin told her that she was pretty and you know how Chaewon is, when it comes to compliments. We started hanging out. Apparently, she used to steal stuff from Sephora to sell at half-price?”
“But the company card,” Jinsol whispers, sounding scandalised. Hyejoo doesn’t say anything, just crosses her arms and stares back at Jinsol challengingly. For a moment, there’s a wordless face-off between them. Sooyoung raises an eyebrow, amused, as Jungeun’s head whips back and forth between the two of them, looking as if she were watching a very intense tennis match. And finally—
“Fine!” Jinsol says, throwing her hands up in the air.
“Yes!” Sooyoung pumps her fist in the air. Jinsol spins towards her, mouth dropping in betrayal.
“Just who’s side are you on?”
“Mine,” Jungeun croaks out, finally joining in the mess of a conversation. She lunges across the table for the credit card, and Hyejoo takes off running, throwing them a sly grin over her shoulder. Jungeun lets out a strangled yelp, scrabbling after her. “Hyejoo, give me my boba!”
The glass door swings shut behind the two of them. Sooyoung turns to Jinsol, wiggling her eyebrows.
“So.”
“The company card?” Jinsol repeats. “Stealing it from the CEO? Is she insane?”
Sooyoung leans into Jinsol, back against her front, and closes her eyes, basking in her warmth. “I mean—we’re the ones making the money for him. Plus, he tried taking away our album.”
“It’s our album either way,” Jinsol mutters, but she slides her arms around Sooyoung’s torso, hugging her loosely, sharp chin resting on Sooyoung’s shoulder.
Sooyoung hums. “Not what I meant. You’re good at it, you know. The music. You deserve to make your own songs.”
The two of them are silent after that, no sound in the room except for the indistinct buzzing in the background. And finally, Jinsol sighs, her breath ghosting over Sooyoung’s neck.
“Thank you,” she says, “for—”
Sooyoung twists around before she can finish the sentence, Jinsol’s arms falling loose from around her. She shifts so that she’s trapping Jinsol’s right leg between her knees, then reaches for Jinsol’s hands, smoothing her thumb over the subtle veins in the back of her hand. Sooyoung doesn’t want to meet Jinsol’s eyes, for some reason. She doesn’t know how to. Jinsol being vulnerable with her is something so rare, so precious that Sooyoung’s terrified of ruining it.
“For what?”
“For believing in me,” Jinsol says, and darts forward, pressing a gentle kiss to the side of Sooyoung’s mouth. Sooyoung finds herself leaning forward, wanting more, chasing after the brief touch of her lips; then curses herself for being so obvious. “For— you are the only person to treat me like this.”
“Hyejoo believes in you too,” Sooyoung points out softly.
Jinsol shakes her head, watching Sooyoung play with her fingers. “Not the same. She— she knows too much about me. With you, I— I’m just Jinsol, you know. With you.”
Sooyoung’s heart speeds up. The feeling is back again—the same gaping chasm that Jinsol leaves in her, something that can’t be filled even when she’s next to her, because deep inside, Sooyoung knows that this isn’t real. She was foolish for thinking she would be satisfied with a half-relationship with Jinsol. It would never be enough. All this maddening teasing does is to keep Sooyoung coming back for more. Try as she might, Sooyoung knows that she can’t let go of her feelings for Jinsol.
She doesn’t want to. Jinsol has Sooyoung wrapped around her little finger.
Except maybe it doesn’t have to be fake, after all.
Sooyoung takes a deep breath in, looks up, and meets Jinsol’s eyes, full of warmth. “Jinsol, I—”
“We are BACK!”
The door bangs open. Jinsol and Sooyoung leap apart, and Sooyoung scratches the back of her neck self-consciously, willing her face not to turn red. Out of the corner of her eye, she spots Jinsol inspecting her nails closely, as if she’s been doing this the whole time she’s been alone with Sooyoung.
“We got boba,” Hyejoo tells them seriously, lifting the plastic bags in her hand, the pearls in the drinks sloshing at the movement. “Doctor’s orders. To replenish your soul, after having it sucked out by meetings.”
“Thanks, Hyejoo,” Jinsol answers, smiling; but the laughter doesn’t quite reach her eyes.
This album will make or break them, their manager tells them afterwards. Sooyoung nods as solemnly as she can when his eyes land on her, and doesn’t think about how she always wakes up alone. And for the next few weeks, they practice until Hyejoo’s fingers start bleeding. Jinsol writes music in the dead of night, and sometimes Sooyoung kisses the callouses on her fingertips when the two of them are alone in the studio and wishes that she knows how to make Jinsol happy.
The days always blur together in the lead-up to an album.
“We need to find a theme for the songs,” Jinsol mutters, scribbling down in her notebook furiously. Her neck is bent at an angle that’s frankly starting to get a little concerning, but Sooyoung doesn’t have a death wish. She doesn’t dare to interrupt Jinsol’s creative process.
“I helped out with the last album,” Hyejoo offers, raising a hand. “I’m out of thinking juice.”
Jinsol points at her without raising her head. “Shhh.”
“What do you have right now?” Jungeun asks. They’ve been sitting with Jinsol for hours now, waiting for her to come up with something— maybe it’s unfair that the pressure is on her, but she’s their best writer. Sooyoung helps her come up with lyrics occasionally, but the true credit belongs to Jinsol.
Hyejoo cranes her neck, peering over Jinsol’s shoulder. “It’s blank.”
“I’m trying to write here,” Jinsol grumbles, turning away.
Hyejoo’s grin turns predatory. She slides out of her seat and sidles up to Jinsol, arms swinging loosely by her side. Sooyoung slides her headphones down around her neck to catch the budding argument.
“Oooo, Jinsol doesn’t have an idea for once,” Hyejoo taunts, pitching her voice as high as it will go. “The Exiled’s very own lyrical genius, Jinsol? Crabby about being stuck?”
“Shut up,” Jinsol mutters, but there’s no stopping Hyejoo once she’s on a roll. She is the one who cares the least about accommodating Jinsol out of them, preferring to tease and prod and make fun of her friends. Sooyoung gets it. She’s the same type of person—she just happens to have a soft spot for Jinsol.
“I don’t know why you can’t just scribble something dumb down, you know,” Hyejoo tosses out carelessly, leaning back and crossing her arms. “Something that rhymes. I want to spend my nights with you, in the morning we have nothing to lose. There you go.”
“That’s just stupid.”
“Maybe it’ll help to work out your writer’s block. The first draft always sucks, anyway.”
“What do you know about writing?” Jinsol snaps. “It’s not like you’re helping.”
“Maybe if you tried!” Hyejoo throws up her hands in the air in exasperation. “Just take inspiration from something in your life! I dunno! Your past!”
Jinsol slams her notebook shut. When she pushes herself up, fists pressed against the surface of the table, her eyes are narrowed with barely concealed anger. “What, you want me to write about Seul?”
Sooyoung doesn’t expect everyone to fall silent, but that’s what happens. In their practice room, where there is always the sound of talking or music or laughter, it rings especially hollow. When she turns to Jinsol, she sees the way the girl’s knuckles have turned white from force; the small tremors making their way through her body.
“For once, Hyejoo, can you leave me alone?” Jinsol says quietly.
Sooyoung doesn’t miss the look that Hyejoo exchanges with Jungeun. It’s one of those little things that she will never understand.
But she doesn’t need to, she decides. She doesn’t mind bearing the brunt of Jinsol’s anger.
Sooyoung sets down her drumsticks.
“Hey, Jinsol, wanna go for a walk?”
“I don’t,” Jinsol says, sounding too composed to be genuine. Her guitar lies at her feet, forgotten, shiny brown wood with their signatures on it from the day they got signed by their label. “I don’t want to.”
Sooyoung stands up. “Jinsol.”
Jinsol looks at her, face pinched. “Sooyoung,” she says, in the same, scarily calm voice.
“Jungeun,” Jungeun mutters, but Sooyoung can’t think about anything but Jinsol now; the way she is obviously hurting. She would do anything to make her feel better. She would bear the pain herself, fight someone—it doesn’t matter, as long as Jinsol doesn’t have to feel like this anymore. Sooyoung steps forward, stretching out her hand, palm up.
Finally, Jinsol huffs, striding to the door and shrugging on her jacket. She ignores Sooyoung, burying her hands in her pocket instead.
“Let’s go.”
Sooyoung hurries after her, ignoring Hyejoo and Jungeun’s eyes lingering on their backs.
They end up circling around the nearby buildings, caps pulled down low to cover their faces. Sooyoung doesn’t say anything, just matches Jinsol’s angry, hurried pace. And finally, Jinsol starts to slow down after their third round circling the block in complete silence, obviously starting to tire. Sooyoung cups her hand around Jinsol’s elbow, leading them to one of the smaller streets where barely anyone is passing by.
“Look, I’m not going to ask you about it,” she says, once she makes sure that no one’s within earshot, “but what’s bothering you?”
Jinsol makes an irritated little noise, stomping her foot. “You said that you won’t ask.”
“I know,” Sooyoung says patiently. “I just want you to know that I’m willing to listen, if you want to talk about it. You don’t have to.”
Jinsol stares down at the ground. Wearily, as if she is wishing for it to open up and suck her inside. And finally—
“Thanks.” Jinsol says, so softly that Sooyoung barely hears. “I— it’s just— it’s hard.”
Sooyoung stays quiet.
“It’s the fucking album,” Jinsol says. “If— if I get it wrong and we don’t get on the charts, it’s going to be my fault. We’ve worked too hard to have our tour cancelled. Because of me. Hyejoo only argued with him because of me.” She sniffles, hiding her face in Sooyoung’s shoulder. “And I don’t mind Hyejoo bugging me about stuff— it’s just— I don’t like it when she brings up the things that have hurt me.”
“Your past,” Sooyoung says quietly. Not for the first time, she wonders what really went down.
“It’s still hurting me.” Jinsol pulls away, wiping at her face. “Look, Sooyoung, I’m sorry. I just— I can’t talk about it. I just want to forget that it ever happened and move on. I’m sorry.”
“Hey,” Sooyoung says, reaching out to give Jinsol a gingerly pat on the arm. “I respect that. I won’t ask. You don’t have to tell me.”
“Sorry.”
Without thinking, Sooyoung knocks her shoulder against Jinsol’s. “You don’t have to be sorry,” she says, pouring as much sincerity as she can into her voice. “You don’t owe me anything. You never will.”
Jinsol scuffles her feet and smiles up at her, looking a little uncertain.
“And plus, I can always help you out with the lyrics,” Sooyoung adds. “Look. I’ve gone through my fair share of experiences. Maybe I can write a song about time a toddler puked on me when I was babysitting. We can name it, I dunno— things coming from your mouth.”
“God, shut up,” Jinsol says weakly, hitting Sooyoung in the arm. “Little Miss Perfect.”
“That’s you,” Sooyoung returns.
“Not when I can barely write a song,” Jinsol mutters.
Sooyoung darts another look behind them. There is no one around. She takes the chance to step forward, taking Jinsol’s hands and sliding them into her pockets so that they are wrapped tight around each other.
“I don’t belong to the music like you do.”
“No,” Jinsol replies. Her head is on Sooyoung’s shoulder again, a warm, comforting weight; they’ve had this conversation once before, over dinner together. Sooyoung wonders if Jinsol remembers. “But you love it.”
“Maybe,” Sooyoung says. Music is a distraction for her. Ever since she’s become aware of her growing feelings, she’s learnt to lose herself in practice, putting on her headphones and drumming to songs that Jinsol doesn’t like until her arms are sore. She practices alone most of the time, when Jungeun’s in the recording studio hitting runs and Jinsol is hunched over the tiny table in their practice room.
“We love it in different ways,” Jinsol whispers. “Music is my entire life. If I don’t give it everything, I lose. If I do, I lose everything.”
Sooyoung closes her eyes, and thinks about the performer on stage. Thinks about watching Jinsol sway from side to side during their sets; with the sort of careless abandon that tells you that she has nothing else to live for. That’s where she belongs. To the stage, to the music, and not to any person.
And it makes Sooyoung love her all the more for it.
“That’s what makes you so good,” she says.
It might have been easier if she could make her vision go blurry and see Jung Jinsol, rockstar instead of Jinsol, her friend who kisses her like she wants it mean something.
Jinsol sighs and pulls Sooyoung closer, burying her face in her neck. “Thank you,” she says, squeezing her hand.
Sooyoung thinks that Jinsol would have kissed her in this moment if they weren’t in public.
“Anything for you,” she says, and means it with her entire heart.