Chapter Text
They crash into the hotel room with their lips locked and hands roaming. Sooyoung only manages to cast a single, hasty look at the door, making sure it’s locked so that no one can barge in like last time before Jinsol’s eager hands start unbuttoning her shirt; then everything else is forgotten in favour of—of whatever this is. The voice in the back of her head points out that they’ve been stuck in this limbo for months already, but it’s easy for Sooyoung to ignore all her misgivings when Jinsol is right in front of her, arching into her touch.
(She would’ve known that Jinsol was high off the energy of being on stage even if she hadn’t been there right alongside her, because of the way Jinsol tilts her head and pushes back into the kiss, more needy than usual. They all have their ways of winding down after a performance. Jungeun bakes, Hyejoo puts on her headphones and stares moodily out into space; and Jinsol—
Sooyoung’s just a willing accomplice to whatever she needs.)
She pushes Jinsol onto the bed, marvelling at the rapid rise and fall of her chest; the smooth expanse of her skin. The initial shyness between them has evaporated into thin air long ago. Now Jinsol sprawls onto the bed, not even bothering to cover up, dark eyes boring into her.
But today, she doesn’t make a move to tug Sooyoung down like she always does. Instead, she just gazes steadily up at Sooyoung with this intense, unreadable look on her face that Sooyoung probably shouldn’t be finding as sexy as she does. Sooyoung swallows, trying not to let on how flustered she is.
“What?”
Jinsol parts her lips, but doesn’t say anything.
Sooyoung’s hands still against Jinsol’s stomach unconsciously.
It is at moments like this that she remembers that no one knows about the two of them. For as long as she can remember, it’s always been secret corners and sneaking back into her room at three in the morning. Sooyoung doesn’t mind the late nights—it’s just that sometimes, she wonders if she even knows the real Jinsol, or if she’s just seeing what Jinsol wants her to.
It’s easy to mistake Jinsol for an open book. She laughs at stupid jokes too easily and cares for her friends right out in the open, but lately, Sooyoung’s been noticing that Jinsol holds her cards much closer to her chest than everyone else. Their friends don’t seem to notice it—or mind, Sooyoung supposes—because Jinsol is the type of person to just roll with whatever life throws at her. The one time Sooyoung asked Jinsol about why she started the band, Jinsol’s face had contorted into something so anguished that Sooyoung never quite dared to broach the topic ever again. Hyejoo had pulled her aside after that, warning her not to pry about Jinsol’s past because it wouldn’t help either of them, but she had also taken pity on Sooyoung afterwards and let slip that Jinsol has a complicated past. A troubled history with an ex, something about it taking a toll on all their friends, and it was the reason why their band even existed in the first place. Sooyoung had decided, that day, that she would never take more from Jinsol than she’s willing to give.
Sometimes, the thing she has with Jinsol feels fragile, like it would shatter under Sooyoung’s fingers if she pressed too hard. Sooyoung has learnt to play by Jinsol’s rules instead. Jinsol makes the first move. They don’t let anyone know about them. There are parts of Jinsol Sooyoung will never get to learn.
“You’re thinking again,” Jinsol murmurs, reaching out and laying her hand on top of Sooyoung’s. Her thumb rubs circles on Sooyoung’s knuckles.
Sooyoung stares down at Jinsol, her flushed face and swollen lips and barely remembers how to breathe. There’s a sudden, strange yearning in her chest at the sight of Jinsol trapped under her, the way Jinsol just—she’s just watching Sooyoung watch her, and it’s a kind of intimacy that leaves Sooyoung feeling like she’s been stripped raw.
“Sooyoung?”
She’d quite like to kiss the furrow in Jinsol’s brow away, Sooyoung thinks, and promptly reels back from the shock of it.
The thought is too sudden, too foreign. When Sooyoung tries to grasp at the hollowness that it leaves behind, it slips away, elusive. (She will manage to find the word for it later that night, when Jinsol’s gentle snores fill the air and Sooyoung’s left staring at the faint glow of moonlight on her bare back. The longing in her chest will tug at her, will swell and overwhelm and threaten to crash down on the last strands of the tethers holding them together.
But for now, Sooyoung doesn’t think about it.)
“Are you sure you’re okay?” she blurts out.
Surprise flits over Jinsol’s face, the briefest of expressions—and if she hadn’t been holding all of Sooyoung’s attention captive, Sooyoung would’ve missed the moment. Sooyoung ends up looking away, because it feels wrong to catch Jinsol with her guard lowered. But even so, for a second, Sooyoung almost dares to hope that they might get somewhere with this, might break all the unspoken rules of their little twice-a-week thing and push forward into something she isn’t sure that either of them are prepared for.
But instead, Jinsol’s expression hardens. She snakes her arms around Sooyoung’s neck to pull her closer, then she’s kissing Sooyoung, determination in the way Jinsol leans towards her, fingers curled against Sooyoung’s thighs. Sooyoung swears she can taste blood.
It feels wrong. Something underneath that is desperate, it’s aching.
“Wait, Jinsol,” Sooyoung says, pushing at Jinsol. Jinsol mumbles something incoherent and clutches at her harder, insistent, and Sooyoung doesn’t really want to pull away. But she still breaks away from Jinsol even though all she wants to do is to kiss her silly, because deep down, it feels like the right thing to do. “Promise me that you’re really fine.”
Jinsol gives her a look that makes Sooyoung lean back, feeling foolish. “Nothing’s wrong,” she says sharply, and digs her nails into Sooyoung’s shoulders. Jinsol flips the two of them around, harder than she needed to, so she’s the one straddling Sooyoung instead.
Sooyoung blinks at her, hurt. “Jinsol—”
“Stop talking,” Jinsol says, then her voice dips into something more seductive, less strained. “Sooyoung, baby—”
Then Jinsol’s mouth is on Sooyoung’s, claiming her attention.
This time, Sooyoung doesn’t fight back. She closes her eyes and lets Jinsol cup a hand against her jaw, other hand slowly making its way down. If this is how Jinsol wants to distract her, Sooyoung thinks, dazed, then she wouldn’t exactly mind.
If this is what Jinsol needs.
In the morning, Sooyoung wakes up to the other side of the bed empty, already cold. She flings an arm over her eyes and doesn’t manage to go back to sleep.
Sooyoung can’t pinpoint the exact moment it became a thing. Maybe it was sometime after she auditioned, when Jinsol had come rushing up to her and the words had spilled out of her lips. “Oh my god, Sooyoung right? Did I get your name wrong? You have to join us, you’re perfect for us, I’ll convince Hyejoo about you don’t worry you’ll get in—”, and she sounded completely, utterly sincere. Sooyoung hasn’t had a single person believe in her like that since—since pretty much forever. (It didn’t help that Jinsol was gorgeous. Dark hair, even darker eyes; a jawline so sharp that Sooyoung’s heart had felt like it would burst the first time Jinsol had smiled at her.)
Sooyoung knows how it feels to be around girls like Jinsol. One careless move, and she is Icarus flying into the sun.
And yet, she still watches Jinsol’s back as the lights go down. Her silhouette stands out against the bright sea of flashlights, and Sooyoung finds herself waiting for Jinsol to turn around so she can catch the wonder in her eyes at the sight of the crowd, something that only grows as the years go by. Somewhere along the way, the thing between them had morphed from casual touches into something more, something deeper. Jinsol kissed her for the first time before the performance that led to their big break, a shy, fleeting press of her lips against the corner of Sooyoung’s mouth. “For luck,” she had whispered, and Sooyoung had played her best that night.
(If Sooyoung was being honest, she never thought they’d get this far. She hadn’t taken music seriously before she joined the band. Playing the drums had been a side passion of hers, buried under university and working and fending off her family’s urging to get a boyfriend disguised as well wishes. The only reason why she was even in the band was because of Jinsol—Sooyoung had spotted her playing in a bar alone, and ended up following all her social media accounts. Months later, when Jinsol posted the call for auditions, Sooyoung had shrugged to herself and thought, might as well.
Or so she tells herself. But the other version of the story is that Sooyoung could just have easily fallen in love the first time she saw Jinsol, when she noticed how Jinsol seemed to hold her guitar like it was a part of her, like the music runs through her blood and her soul belongs to it.)
“Hyejoo!”
Sooyoung catches the sound of a guitar case being flung onto the floor, and winces.
Her bandmates are back at it again. It’s not a rare occurrence for them to fight over album concepts, but usually Sooyoung stays out of it, not particularly invested in the production side of things. But then she catches a soft “yeah, but it’s Sooyoung—” from the other room, and finds herself straining to listen instead.
“How about we actually ask her?” says Jungeun.
“No.” And from the harsh tone of Jinsol’s voice, she isn’t planning on backing down any time soon.
Hyejoo grunts. “If you weren’t such a pussy about—”
“Yeah, you’re not doing that to her,” Jinsol says, louder this time, and Sooyoung finally caves. She had been putting off practice for as long as possible, so she hadn’t wanted to join the others yet, but curiosity got the better of her.
She kicks the door open and leans against the doorway just to be dramatic.
“Ask me what?”
Three pairs of incredulous eyes land on her. Sooyoung points a drumstick carelessly at the nearest person—and in this case, it was Jinsol, looking so grumpy that it's almost comical.
“You know the door was propped open, right? I was right there.”
When Jinsol finally glances at her, it is half-guilty and half-ashamed. “Well—”
Jungeun snorts. “She didn’t know.”
The smile creeps onto Sooyoung’s face, slowly. “Yeah, I figured,” she says, and lets go of the door, plunking herself down in her usual seat instead. She taps the drumstick against her knee. “So. What’s up?”
The three of them exchange glances. Sooyoung watches the silent conversation happen, already expecting it even before she had asked the question. And finally—
“So, you gonna tell her, or me?” Hyejoo breaks the silence from all the way on the other side of the room. Jinsol crosses her arms and scowls down at the floor, making Sooyoung raise an eyebrow. (Officially, Jinsol is the leader of the band, but Hyejoo is the one who really calls the shots because usually Jinsol concedes when they disagree, not liking any sort of conflict.)
It is Jungeun who lays a hand on Sooyoung’s arm, however. “You know Chuu? Actor-turned-pop singer?”
“Yeah?”
Jungeun’s lips thin. “Well, she reached out to us. She wants to collab with us—well, feature one of us in her latest song, more specifically.”
“It will be great promo for us,” Hyejoo adds, making a face at Sooyoung.
“That— that’s good, isn’t it?” Sooyoung says slowly, frowning. “If the music video drops before our tour announcement, the fans would be happy about it.”
“Yeah,” Jungeun says, dragging out the word as if Sooyoung’s being stupid, “but it’s Chuu. You’ve seen her music videos, right?”
It takes a moment for it to hit Sooyoung, but when finally it does, her mouth drops right open. “Ohhh.”
Kim Chuu, whose music videos are censored left and right but still trend every two months. She’s broken all the stereotypes around women and sexuality and queerness, but somehow managed to remain loved by the public and carve a space for herself in mainstream music. As she’s grown bigger, her videos have only gotten more and more outrageous—the last one had stayed on the #1 spot on Melon search for weeks, and it was just Chuu making out with a woman for a full four minutes as her newest release plays in the background.
Sooyoung respects her with every inch of her being.
“I… don’t see a problem with that?”
“Yes, well,” Hyejoo replies, starting to sound a little impatient. “She wants you to star in her video.”
“I don’t want to whore you out for a music video,” Jinsol cuts in harshly.
Sooyoung’s heart leaps.
“Jinsol!” Jungeun shoves at the girl in question, then turns to Sooyoung. “Look. Really, it’s your decision. The company said yes, we’re all good with it as long as you’re comfortable, Jinsol’s just—”
“I’m not being prissy about it,” Jinsol says, slouching down in her beanbag, “I just want you guys to stop pressuring Sooyoung.”
Sooyoung twirls her drumsticks between her fingers thoughtfully.
“You know people are going to assume, right?” Jinsol grouches, when Sooyoung doesn’t reply. Sooyoung meets her eyes. Jinsol tilts her chin up at her almost challengingly, the moment charged with something that makes Sooyoung feel like she’s on fire.
Sooyoung darts a look at Jungeun, whose ears are slowly reddening. Hyejoo is staring at the two of them, expectant. Sooyoung breathes in, looks away, and finds Jinsol’s gaze again.
“I didn’t say that I would mind.”
Thud.
Jinsol’s phone slips onto the floor. It lands face down on the floor, but she doesn’t even bother with looking over. All she does is to stare at Sooyoung with this terrible, betrayed look on her face, like Sooyoung had tried to pull away from Jinsol when she needed her most.
For a moment, no one speaks. Then just as suddenly as the noise, Jinsol pushes the fire exit open and runs. The building they're in is small enough that the sound of her footsteps down the hallway echos. Out of the corner of her eye, Sooyoung catches Jungeun wince to herself.
Sooyoung gulps. “It’s not my fault, right?” she says, turning to Hyejoo. “Right?”
Hyejoo sighs. “Maybe you should go talk to her,” she says, looking at Sooyoung with eyes that are far too knowing for their own good. “This is between you guys.”
“She’s just— she’s just worried,” Sooyoung fumbles out, then flees from the room to chase after Jinsol.
Sooyoung finds Jinsol at the end of the corridor, staring out of an open window with her hands shoved into her pockets. She almost looks peaceful like that. Sooyoung’s almost afraid to disturb her. Instead, she just shuffles her feet so that Jinsol knows that she’s there, and waits.
“I don’t have a problem with Chuu,” Jinsol finally says. She doesn’t turn around. “You’re the problem.”
It’s more blunt than Jinsol would usually allow herself to be. “Oh,” Sooyoung says, taken aback, because she really doesn’t know how else to react.
Jinsol gives a sharp puff of air through her nose. “Not like that,” she replies, voice gentle, but doesn’t bother elaborating. Sooyoung watches the breeze brush strands of hair off Jinsol’s shoulders almost playfully, and her heart tugs again.
(Last week, Jinsol had drunkenly professed that she hadn’t kissed a single person since they started the band. Sooyoung had to take a sip of her drink right after so she didn’t burst into giggles, because Jinsol had met her eyes from the other end of the sofa and gave her a grin that had said, they don’t know, do they? But now, in broad daylight, it doesn’t feel as funny anymore.)
“Look, I’m sorry, okay?” Jinsol says, “I overreacted back there. I’m— I’m not the greatest when it comes to sharing. You know me.”
No I really don’t, Sooyoung thinks.
“You really don’t want me to film with Chuu, do you?” she says instead.
“And have everyone see you kissing another woman?” Jinsol says, huffing out a laugh. “Yeah, I’m not a martyr, Sooyoung.”
“I wouldn’t do it if you tell me not to.”
Jinsol finally turns around. Under her burning gaze, Sooyoung feels like she’s being scrutinised. “You want to do it, don’t you?”
Sooyoung looks down. “Yeah, but—”
“I’m not going to stop you. It’s your decision.”
“But we could—” Sooyoung says, waving a hand between them— “we could tell them. They’d understand. I don’t even mean the company, Jungeun and Hyejoo would help us if they knew.”
“You know why we can’t, though.” Jinsol steps closer, a hand brushing Sooyoung’s face, almost a dare. “You understand.”
Sooyoung can’t help but to lean into her touch, as much as she hates it.
She knows.
They blew up too fast, too sudden. One day they were setting up for yet another performance in the biting cold of winter, hoping for their big break; the next they were signed onto a label and sent touring across Korea, with the rest of the world soon to come. Their fans are overwhelmingly young and female. Sooyoung still can’t believe it, sometimes. It’s more than she ever dared to dream of when she auditioned.
But it had come with a price. Even though Sooyoung knows that this was her choice, she still mourns the chance to be able to explore herself without being in the spotlight. They were too young, back then, when they got their first taste of fame. There are things out there that Sooyoung will never be able to take back. There are people who would sell their souls for a glimpse of their private lives. All she can do is close her eyes and pretend they don’t exist.
Sooyoung wonders if that’s what Jinsol is afraid of. Why her, out of all the people Jinsol could have chosen?
Sometimes Sooyoung looks at Jinsol, and feels like her heart is ripping itself apart. She’d quite like to hate Jinsol for it, she thinks, but unfortunately, Sooyoung is also weak when it comes to all things Jinsol. This is what happens when two people do everything that’s dating without ever giving it a label, she supposes. This is what happens when they don’t ever talk about it. And maybe, it was also her fault for never asking what this is.
But like Icarus flying into the sun, Sooyoung can’t help but to reach out and want more. It’s too easy to tell herself that this is what she wants. That this is enough, that Sooyoung doesn’t want more, that—
“You need to stop thinking when you’re around me,” Jinsol murmurs, and leans forward to grab her by her hands and tug her forward. Sooyoung stumbles. Jinsol steadies her by the waist, then steals a kiss from her. “Come on. You can tell them you’re filming with Chuu.”
The studio is much quieter when Jungeun and Hyejoo finally leave. They had left their notes sprawling across the table, but Sooyoung doesn’t dare to rearrange them because last time, Hyejoo bit her head off for messing with the order of the papers. Sooyoung swears they all look the same, just scribbles and doodles— how was she supposed to know that they were Hyejoo’s notes if none of the lines look like lyrics?
Jinsol frowns down at her guitar as she plucks at the strings, humming notes under her breath, then scribbles something down on her tablet.
“Still working on the same one?” Sooyoung asks, scooting over to wrap a careful hand around Jinsol’s shoulder, pulling her closer to plant a kiss on her cheek. “Want a massage?"
“Not now,” Jinsol groans, leaning into her embrace. “The emotions aren’t right yet. There’s something wrong with the song. Please don’t tell me it’s the melody, I’ve been working on it for weeks and it’s almost done.”
It’s a thing that happens more often than not, the two of them writing late into the night. Sometimes Hyejoo’s there, never Jungeun. Sooyoung is in charge of food runs when Jinsol gets too sucked into the music, but it’s just another thing Sooyoung adds onto the long, long list of why she loves Jinsol.
Sooyoung gives Jinsol’s shoulder a sympathetic pat. “Hey,” she says, “stop stressing. “Stop stressing. It’s fine. We have months to work on this.”
“Yeah," Jinsol says, and closes her eyes, resting her head on Sooyoung's clavicle. But the moment doesn't last long. Jinsol pulls away, rubbing at her face. "I can't. We still need to record and layer on the instruments then there’s the collab, so you’ll be busy for a couple days, and—”
Sooyoung’s learnt to treasure the rare moments when Jinsol lets her guard down like this. Usually, she lets Jinsol talk it out when she gets frantic like this, but this time, Sooyoung’s heart threatens to pound out of her chest the fondness she’s feeling.
“Jinsol,” she says, before she can think about what a bad idea that is.
Jinsol stops mid-sentence. “Mm?”
Sooyoung snaps her mouth shut. It feels like a crime to even think about putting what she's feeling into words, especially when they have an unspoken agreement to never talk about the boundaries that they break. It would be a mistake.
So she just kisses Jinsol instead. She cups Jinsol’s face with both her hands, and tries to pour everything she’s feeling into something other than words. How much she needs Jinsol, how much she wants to take the time to love all parts of Jinsol, even the ones that Jinsol has decided to lock away forever. Sooyoung might not understand, but she’s willing to put the effort in. She doesn’t want to share Jinsol with the world and she wants more than what they have and she hates that she crumbles so easily when it comes to Jinsol.
This time, Sooyoung kisses Jinsol like there’s no tomorrow; because maybe there won’t be once Sooyoung asks for anything more than this.
If Sooyoung had known that it would snowball into something as confusing as this, maybe she would’ve stopped Jinsol the first time she kissed her. (She wouldn’t have. Sooyoung is a coward as much as she is a drummer, she buries all the feelings that surge up inside her at the thought of Jinsol belong to someone else so she doesn’t have to lose Jinsol, because never fully having Jinsol would be better than not having her at all.)
Sooyoung gasps, sounding somewhere between wounded and needy. Jinsol pulls away, and curls her fingers against the side of Sooyoung’s face, and it’s so tender and loving that Sooyoung’s heart hurts.
“Jinsol, I— I want—”
Jinsol seems to read her mind, even before the words formulate properly. She slides her hand over Sooyoung’s, intertwining their fingers. “Not here,” Jinsol says, tongue darting out to wet her lips. Sooyoung reaches out, traces the bottom of Jinsol’s lip with her thumb, and Jinsol’s eyes track her every move. “Not now.”
“Okay,” Sooyoung replies, because she is in love.