Chapter Text
(or maybe you were tired of always looking for me.)
You didn’t fight for me this time.
You let me go.
So I went
I love you. I think you know I will always love you.
But maybe I’ll let you start
From the beginning.
-Ashley Woodfolk
VIII
When Jihyo opened up her eyes the first thing she felt was the familiar dull ache in her lower back. She rolled off of her left side where she was curled into a pillow and rubbed the ache under her sleep shirt. The audible groan escaped her mouth as she reached over to her phone to see the time.
10:36 AM
There was a time when the thought of waking up past 8am was preposterous to Jihyo. The idea of laying in bed and not already having checked off about five items off of her checklist? Not having at least three different schedules to attend to within 24 hours?
That was a different lifetime ago though. Not her current life for the last few years, where she’s no longer tied to a constant schedule and never-ending meetings and decisions to make.
“You should rest more,” the familiar fingers rubbed out a knot in Jihyo’s one shoulder.
“I will,” Jihyo said through a moan as the knot became looser under the work of the fingers pressing into her.
“Why don’t we go take a nap now,” lips ghosted her ear playfully and Jihyo found herself grinning and falling back into waiting arms.
The memory flashed through her brain as she plopped her phone back onto the nightstand and pushed herself into a sitting position. It happened most days. A flash of her old life. A flash of something that used to exist. A flash of someone that made her chest clench. When she closes her eyes she can still feel the touch of the fingertips and the breath on her ears and neck. The way it used to tickle and make her hold in a giggle at different times of the day.
The flashes of these memories used to be so regular it was overwhelming, suffocating. But now it’s just a quick flash, a brief moment that she was able to push past easily. “Get over it,” she mumbled to herself as she swung her legs to the side of the bed. The familiar phrase she used to use for other things, things that were tucked away in the boxes of everything else she no longer dealt with.
She rolled out the kinks in her neck, sat up straighter, the ache in her lower back groaning with the stretch and then quieting to the constant whisper of a throb that it usually was. Her hand habitually found her right knee, gently rubbing at a familiar spot underneath the sweatpants. There was no ache or pain present right now, but the scar that laid underneath demanded quiet attention. So she rubbed through her sweatpants gently before she stood up to start another day.
A finger dragged up her arm to her neck and back down. “You look so good when you’re tan like this,” the girl next to her whispered it like a prayer. “You’re such a summer person.”
Jihyo giggled quietly, “If only it were summer all year round.”
“There are places like that. Where it’s always warm,” the finger traced down her neck to her collarbone. “We should live there one day.”
“Wouldn’t you miss the winter?” Jihyo asked as she leaned into the touch.
“Not when I’m with you.”
The sun was out in San Diego, California almost 270 days out of the year. It’s how she decided to live here a few years ago. Jihyo liked the beach and the warm weather. She had thought of Hawaii at first, but knew too many people who vacationed there regularly. Los Angeles was too public. Too many possible chances to run into people who knew her, knew her history, would recognize the once great Park Jihyo.
The criteria for a place to live wasn’t that much: far from Korea, warm, preferably near water, far from Korea, good restaurants, and far from Korea being the most important.
Jihyo took a sip of the coffee she had just poured for herself and looked out her window to the beach. A group of surfers were finishing up for the morning already as the waves were calming down for the day. She turned on the TV and immediately pulled up a Korean drama. It was background noise mostly, but it was also a reminder of home. Despite the decisions she had made to separate herself, she still missed the language and the familiarity and the food and… home. She missed home. But when she thought of home there was a person that first would come to her mind. And she missed that person. She missed that home.
There were only a select few people who knew where she currently lived. Her new home. Her mother and father because she would never hear the end of it if she completely disappeared from their lives. Her sisters, because her mother was never able to keep a secret. Jeongyeon. Because Jeongyeon was never just a member. She had always been her best friend, her family. The last person who knew where she lived currently was Mina. Because…well…Mina could keep secrets. Had always kept secrets. Had always respected what Jihyo had asked and never once questioned Jihyo’s decisions.
Mina found her in their shared room. It was a long day of practice and frustration was pouring like sweat from her skin. But it was not just the stress of the comeback. It was the fact that she had plans with someone after practice. But there were cameras and managers eyes and members making jokes and it all became too much. So she canceled and was met with disappointed eyes and a smile that wasn’t as full as it normally was and a quiet shy nod.
Jihyo rubbed at her eyes as she sat on the edge of her bed, trying to get that look of disappointment out of her brain. She was so lost in her own head that she didn't register Mina entering their room and sitting down next to her.
“It would be okay if you two just admitted what you were, you know?” Mina said quietly, and confidently, like most things she said. “No one would think any less of you.”
She didn’t try to deny anything with Mina. She didn’t ask how Mina knew. She just pulled her hand from her face, defeated. “I can’t. We can’t.” She emphasized “we” because she knew it was not just her and her life and her career at stake.
“You always try to be the strong leader, Jihyo,” Mina sighed, putting her hand on her shoulder. “But I think strength would be being honest with yourself,” Mina inhaled deeply before speaking the next part. “And being honest with Sana.”
Jihyo let Mina’s honesty and bluntness wash over her. It’s the thing she could never say out loud herself. It’s the secret she could no longer keep.
“I just need some time,” Jihyo whispered as if they were not in the privacy of their room. “Please don’t tell-”
“I won’t,” Mina squeezed her shoulder tightly, affirming what Jihyo already knew. “It’s not mine to tell.”
She finished her coffee and then went about watering her plants around her house like she did every day. Occasionally her eyes drifted towards the television where the drama was playing. She didn’t know exactly what the plot was. But there was an actress grabbing onto an actor’s hand and begging him to stay and Jihyo found herself stopping what she’s doing to watch the scene play out.
“Please don’t do this, Jihyo,” Sana’s voice sounded foreign to her. It was strangled and pained in a way that Jihyo had never heard before. “You don’t have to do this alone. I’m here for you-”
“And I don’t want you here!” Jihyo bit back as she freed her hand from Sana’s grasp. “Don’t you get that? I don’t want you.”
“You don’t mean that,” tears were flowing from Sana’s eyes freely. “You’re upset and I get that-”
“No you don’t! You don’t get it! You don’t get what any of this is like!” Jihyo’s chest felt heavy and there was a voice in her head telling her to stop, but she couldn’t. “Just leave me alone, please.”
Jihyo felt a small puddle of water at her feet from the watering can that slipped out of her fingers. It snapped her attention away from the television and out of wherever her thoughts had taken her.
A few hours later her phone rang. It shouldn’t be a cause for concern, but these days her phone never rang. She rushed to the counter expecting to see a Scam Likely alert, but was instead met with Jeongyeon flashing on her screen. She hesitated for another ring before she hit the accept button. “Hey.”
“Hey you!” Jeongyeon was cheerful and happy and Jihyo was immediately suspicious.
“What do you want?” Jihyo sighed out.
“I can’t call my friend?” Jeongyeon replied instantly.
“Usually when you call it’s because you want something,” Jihyo stated as she went back to cleaning up the puddle from the watering can.
“Just wanted to see what was up with you. See if anything new is going on with you. How life has been in the States. See what you’re up to-”
Jihyo cut off her rambling before she could continue. “Considering we just talked last week. When nothing had changed from the week before that or the week before that or the week before or-”
“Okay, okay,” Jeongyeon interrupted with an eye roll that Jihyo could hear through the phone and the oceans of distance between them. “I just like to make sure you’re okay.”
“I know,” Jihyo sighed as she picked up the towel she was using to dry the floor and went to wring it out in the sink.
“And are you…” if she listened carefully enough she swore she could hear Jeongyeon swallow. “…okay?”
Jihyo paused as she squeezed water from the towel. Water she dropped because she was lost in her head. Lost in a past that she can’t change. She laid the towel out on her counter. “I am.”
“And the therapy?” Jeongyeon’s voice was hesitant. It was walking on eggshells, and Jihyo couldn’t even be annoyed because she put the eggshells there.
“I am still going every week,” Jihyo said and then took a deep breath before the semblance of confidence returned to her. “I’m doing okay, Jeongyeon. I promise.”
“Okay, good.”
There was a pause on the other end. Years of knowing the other woman has informed Jihyo that she was probably biting her lip and tapping on something as she figured out what to say next. But it only took a moment before she said, “Anyway let me tell you about this cat I saw at the shelter.”
Jihyo laughed and felt her shoulders unclench.
Jihyo’s shoulder hit the wall as firm hands traveled up from her sides to hold her face. “Jeongyeon will be back any minute,” She mumbled it out as lips made a wet path down her neck, a satisfied sigh escaping when the lips found a particularly sensitive spot.
“I guess we have to be quick then,” Sana giggled as her fingers dipped down and made quick work of the button on her pants.
“Tzuyu and Chaeyoung are next door too,” Jihyo stated as she fought back a moan when Sana dipped her fingers where she needed them most.
Sana swallowed her moans with her mouth, her tongue sweeping inside Jihyo’s mouth expertly. She pulled back and smirked as she brought her free hand up to Jihyo’s mouth, fingers placed over her lips, “Then we also need to be quiet. Quick and quiet.”
Jihyo sat out on her deck that overlooks the Pacific Ocean. The quiet sound of the distant waves was the only thing that she could hear. She opened up the notebook that she brought outside with her and flipped to a blank page. She played with the pen between her fingers and began to tap it against the table. She ended up tapping the pen into a familiar rhythm and once she realized what she was doing she put the pen down.
Her therapist told her to do this. Write the things she couldn’t say. A healthier way to get the emotions out. Her therapist said. She had said it might make things easier to address. Things she had avoided. Conversations she never had because she left before they could be had.
She stared at the blank pages not knowing where to begin. She supposed the beginning would be a good start. But she felt so far from that. She’s not even sure how it began. One day she was Jihyo, the leader of TWICE. The next day she was Sana’s Jihyo. It just was. There was no beginning, really.
“You mean if your life was a book you’d want to go to the last chapter first?” Sana asked as they sat across from each other at her dining room table.
“I don’t like surprises,” Jihyo shrugged as she twirled her ramen with her chopsticks.
“But some things you can’t predict. Not even you,” Sana challenged. “Did you predict us happening?” Jihyo narrowed her eyes playfully before Sana continued, “But wouldn’t knowing how something ended ruin the rest of the story?”
“Knowing overall how something ends doesn’t mean some stuff can’t change along the way.”
Sana pondered her thoughts while she played with the noodle at the end of her chopsticks. “I don’t know. I’d rather start at the beginning, no idea what will happen, and have faith it’ll all work out.”
Jihyo looked at her curiously and couldn’t help the smile that spread throughout her face. Faith it’ll all work out was such a foreign concept. Jihyo just laughed as she kept eating. “I guess opposites really do attract.”
Maybe the beginning was where it ended. Where she stopped being one thing and started being something else. And maybe the ending was where the rest of it began.
Or maybe it never really mattered how it began or how it ended. What matters is where she ended up.
Alone.
Thousands of miles away.
So she started with the present and brought her pen to the paper. I miss…she could say so many things. She missed performing. She missed the lights on the stage. She missed the sound of Nayeon’s laugh. She missed Dahyun’s jokes. She missed Momo’s dancing. She missed it all, truthfully. But as she looked back at the ocean she realized none of that is what she wakes up everyday thinking of.
“You can take your time,” Sana whispered to her, running a hand through her hair calmingly as they lay facing each other. “I’ll wait for you to be ready.”
Jihyo brought her hand to meet Sana’s and threaded their fingers together. “Why would you do that for me?” Her voice was small and she avoided Sana’s eyes, but a hand lifted her chin up to meet brown eyes.
“Because I love you.”
She brought her pen back to the paper.
I miss you.
A few hours later Jihyo was cooking a simple dinner for herself. Over the last few months she had learned how to make meals for one person. It wasn’t something she was ready for when she started this journey on her own. But as she stirred in a small batch of noodles she found herself smiling at the stove. There’s another drama playing in the background, because despite adapting to this life she still has not quite adapted to the quiet.
The life she envisioned for herself was much louder. It was filled with laughter and songs being quietly sung while doing mundane tasks together. It was a life made up of touches and smiles across the room, cuddles on the couch, arms tugging each other in the bedroom through giggles.
She had let herself imagine that life. Once. Before. Just for a moment.
“Are you positive?” Sana asked, unable to hide the hope of the possibility from her eyes.
“Completely,” Jihyo said with a confident smile. “I’m not afraid. I don’t care what happens next. I just want you. I just want us.”
Sana’s head tilted in that way when she was listening with her whole body and taking it all in. “You don’t have to do this if you’re not ready-”
“I am though,” Jihyo grabbed Sana’s hands and squeezed them tightly. “I wasn’t before. But I am now. I promise. I thought I’d have to give it all up for us to be together. But we don’t have to and I realize that now. And even if I did it wouldn’t matter because we had each other, right?”
Jihyo could hear the echo of the right that came next, immediately followed by joy filled giggles and lips attaching themselves to part of skin and hands roaming-
The ding of the oven timer pulled her back.
The laughter from the drama in the background drowned out anything else.
Saudade.
It was the word that her therapist taught her. Portuguese. It was deeper than “missing”. It was a profound emotional state where you longed for a person, a place, a time, a past, and knowing that you might never return to it.
She thought about the boxes in her mind that she had stored away for the last few years and didn’t want to touch. The past that she had lost. The people she let go.
That’s what she felt.
Saudade.
When Jihyo climbed into her bed hours later and turned the light off, the throbbing in her back returned just subtly. She wiggled herself under her blankets to get more comfortable before taking a deep, steadying breath. She braced herself for the same images and sounds that she got hit with most every night.
The loud crunch of metal on metal.
Machines beeping in a hospital bed.
Nayeon holding her hand and telling her things will be okay, despite her own tears falling onto Jihyo’s hand.
Sana, slumped over on an uncomfortable plastic chair beside her bed, never leaving her side.
Jihyo’s eyes closed to the sound of Sana’s voice. “Jihyo, you promised. You said nothing else mattered.”
“I guess I lied.”
She exhaled and let her mind wander to a dream of what she hoped was reality. Sana holding someone’s hand and laughing; unburdened. Maybe living in Italy or France like she always dreamed. Dinners with the other members. No one felt guilty. No one felt like they had to pretend things were fine.
She let that be her last thought before sleep overtook her.
It felt like she was only asleep for minutes when a persistent banging sound woke her up. She rolled over and grabbed her phone from the nightstand, squinting as she unlocked the screen.
8:19 am
She doesn’t remember setting an alarm, but there was a ringing coming from somewhere that wouldn’t shut off. She struggled to open her eyes more to see a text notification.
Jeongyeon:
I’m so sorry. I didn’t really have a choice
“What the fuck is she talking about?” she groaned, putting her phone back down and rolling over to go back to sleep. Only she couldn’t, because the ringing continued. She sat up and rubbed her eyes and realized that the ringing was not coming from her phone, but from the front door. She threw her legs out of bed quicker than she normally did. The ache in her back and her knee were more present than usual. The ringing continued. “Alright, I’m coming, I’m coming,” Jihyo mumbled, sleepily, as she made her way out of her bedroom and to her front door.
Somewhere in her brain she registered that out of her window was unusually overcast. The normal sunshine of San Diego was covered in clouds as if it had just finished pouring briefly. Somewhere, deep down, this should have been a warning that things were different this morning. But the exhaustion and the annoyance of being woken up early made it hard to process anything else.
Another ring at the door.
“Fuck, I said I was coming!” Jihyo yelled as she swung the door open and whatever the next explicative that was on the tip of her tongue died.
In front of her, hair slightly damp from the rain, head tilting to the side like she’s taking in every bit of Jihyo like she used to do…the person that plagued most of Jihyo’s dreams so much so that Jihyo squeezed the door knob just a little tighter to make sure she was in fact awake. She breathed whatever air she possibly could before the name fell out of her mouth with her exhale.
“Sana?”
VII
(before)
It’s not an alarm that woke up Jihyo like it used to. And it’s not some internal idol clock that gets her up at 6am. Instead it’s throbbing pain. She reached over to grab the pill bottle next to the bed and fished out two pills quickly, not even bothering with water as she swallowed. She settled back into her pillow and let her eyes close. The throbbing continued, but she counted back from thirty as she drifted back to sleep, letting the pills work their magic.
A few days later Jihyo’s mother was in her apartment kitchen in Seoul stocking up her fridge with side dishes and meat. “Have you been going to physical therapy?” Her mother asked with her face still in the fridge.
Jihyo idly traced her finger around the top of the mug of tea she was holding. She knew she went to physical therapy…recently. “Yes,” she replied, her finger making circles around the ring of the mug.
“The doctors said you should be going multiple times a week,” her mother reminded her and Jihyo was reminded of the doctor’s words.
“It’s a best case scenario. You won’t be back to 100%. But 75%, maybe?”
For someone who has built an entire career on giving 100% of herself, 75% wasn’t good enough. It would never be enough. She knew this, but the people around her didn’t want her to lose hope. It wasn’t hope. It was reality.
She didn’t hope anymore.
“Jihyo, did you hear me?” Her mother shut the fridge and was standing across from her at the counter. She hadn’t heard her mother say something. The medication had been making things like this happen. Brain fog a nurse had explained to her.
“Yes mom. I heard you.”
It was a lie.
She had been telling a lot of those lately. They have been coming easier to her ever since…ever since the first lie she told to the person she never lied to.
When Nayeon came over a few days later, she let herself in with a key Jihyo had given her ages ago, and she found Jihyo on the couch, staring blankly at the television, a bottle of beer in her hand. “Have you been drinking all day?”
“No.”
Another lie.
“Jihyo, we’re worried,” Nayeon sighed as she stood above Jihyo, eyes taking in the table of empty bottles. “Have you even talked to-”
“No,” Jihyo responded immediately and her voice was louder than she intended. But the thought of hearing the name Sana was too much to bear. “Just drop it, Nayeon. I’m fine.”
“You’re not fine,” Nayeon said stubbornly. She was not one to pull the unnie card frequently, but here it was. “We all just want to help.”
“Can you erase the accident from happening?” Jihyo asked, staring up at Nayeon from her spot on the couch. When she was met with silence she scoffed. “Exactly. You can’t help me.” Jihyo went back to her position on the couch and turned back to the television. “Leave the spare keys on the counter when you go.” She avoided the hurtful look on Nayeon’s face as she pulled the beer up to her lips for another long sip.
“You can shut us out all you want, but that doesn’t change how much we care about you,” Nayeon was firm in her words and Jihyo bit back the cold retort that bubbled up in response.
After she heard the sound of the keys hitting her counter and the door closing softly she finally closed her eyes. There’s a part of her that wanted to jump up and race to go find Nayeon and say she didn’t mean any of it.
But there was another part of her, the real present part, where everything hurt and getting up and saying all of that would have taken an ability to fight back against what she’s currently feeling. And for the first time in her life: Jihyo didn’t really have any fight left in her.
She was not sure what day it was or what time it was as it all was blurring together lately. But there was a gentle knock on her apartment door that jostled her from the nap she had fallen into on her couch after a few too many pills mixed with a bottle of soju. Her eyes opened and she remained still, hoping whoever was at the door got the hint and disappeared. But then, “Jihyo, it’s Mina,” the voice was quiet on the other side and Jihyo had never had it in her to be rude to Mina. She sighed and pushed herself off the couch. She grabbed hold of the back of the couch as she limped over to the door, the realization that she’s due for another pain pill present in her mind.
She opened the door hesitantly, holding on to it for balance. Mina looked up under her baseball cap and smiled tightly. “Can I come in?” Before Jihyo had time to process an excuse Mina held up the bag she was holding. “I brought chicken.”
Jihyo didn’t verbally respond, but opened up the door fully gesturing for Mina to make herself at home. If Mina noticed the mess or the empty bottles and food containers, she didn’t say anything. Instead she quietly pulled out the food she brought and found two clean plates from Jihyo’s kitchen cabinets. Jihyo slowly made her way towards the dining room and table and sat down. She watched Mina wordlessly plate her food, feeling an itch in her throat she couldn’t name. She tugged on the sleeves of her sweatshirt, covering her hands and playing with the frayed edges of the sleeves. She felt like a child, small and unsure, so far from the person she had been for the years prior.
When Mina sat down, placing plates of chicken in front of both of them, Jihyo couldn't help but give her a small smile. “Thanks.”
“Of course,” They ate in relative silence as Jihyo realizes this was the first real meal she has had in a few days. Her stomach was grateful for the meal, and her mind was grateful for the peaceful quiet. Mina’s steady silence calmed everything within Jihyo like it usually did.
When she finished eating she realized that even for Mina: the quiet was too much. Making conversation with one of her members never had seemed so much like a chore before, but here they were. She searched her brain to find a piece of relevant information to discuss. Somewhere in the back of her mind she knew there was a trip out of the country planned. “When do you leave for Japan?” Jihyo asked after clearing her throat.
“We just got back, actually,” Mina said and glanced back at Jihyo, her eyes reading the way that Jihyo tried to calculate the dates in her head from the memory she used to have about when schedules for members were.
“Oh…I didn’t- I didn’t realize.”
“It’s okay,” Mina reached over and squeezed Jihyo’s hand lightly. “You had other stuff going on.”
The reminder of what had been currently filling her time caused her to fight back a flinch as she pulled her hand back and tucked it back into the sleeve of her sweatshirt. She cleared her throat once again, “How was it?”
“Good,” Mina nodded. “The MISAMO comebacks are always a big hit over there.”
There was a time when Jihyo would have more follow up questions, would want to know details of performances, would want to see videos and give feedback. But now she just looked at her empty plate and wondered why any of that ever seemed to matter to her.
“And how was…” Jihyo trailed off but locked eyes with Mina, hoping one look will be all her friend will need.
“Sana was good,” Mina quickly finished Jihyo’s sentence for her. “She’s been keeping busy.”
Jihyo nodded and looked back down at her lap. “That’s good. That’s for the best.”
“Being busy doesn’t mean she doesn’t miss you any less,” Mina added, and Jihyo didn’t have to look up to know that Mina was staring at her.
“I know,” Jihyo said quietly, like a child who had just been scolded. She didn’t add the I miss her too that sat on the tip of her tongue. She didn’t have to. Mina knew.
“You should eat more,” Mina changed the subject with a gentle smile.
A small chuckle escaped her lips and the sound felt so foreign to her. “I know. I’ll try.”
She did try. She cleaned her apartment. She tried to cook. She went to physical therapy. She drank less. She took the pills as they were prescribed and not just when she wanted to stop feeling.
But the progress was slow and everywhere she went and looked she was reminded that once upon a time a small task like walking down the street wasn’t a difficulty. And once upon a time she could command an entire arena with her voice alone. And now she could barely command her body and brain to do what they were supposed to do on a given day.
The call came in on a Wednesday. She had just finished physical therapy for the day and was back to her apartment. JYP hadn’t personally reached out since the accident, but here was his name flashing on her phone. She took a steadying breath and answered, voice sounding as timid as she was in her trainee days.
He didn’t sugarcoat it. TWICE had schedules that have been delayed. They had recordings scheduled. Contract obligations to uphold.
In all of the ways that she imagined her life as an idol to end, she never once imagined it would be on a 12 minute phone call. It’s not so much of an end. It’s a hold.
“I’m sorry, Jihyo. You know if you are ever ready to come back the door is open.”
But Jihyo couldn’t really imagine ever coming back. Not with how she was now. Not with how everything had changed. She doesn’t say that to JYP though. She thanked him for the offer and he explained how the company will handle talking to the media. “Do you want to tell the members yourself?”
The thought made her nauseous. She couldn’t imagine looking any of them in the eyes to deliver that news. Especially not Sana.
“You can tell them, it’s fine.”
“Okay, Jihyo. You take care of yourself, alright?”
“I will.”
Another lie.
She turned her phone off after that phone call. She grabbed a bottle of soju and drank it. Then she grabbed another one and drank that too. She then took her pain medication despite it not being time for another pill yet.
Nayeon, Momo and Jeongyeon came by the next day and banged on her door for an hour straight begging her to open up. Jihyo stayed completely still in her bedroom, hoping to disappear into the mattress. Her body clenched and her back hurt and she took another pill that made their knocking on the door disappear and allowed her to sleep until the next day.
She realized when she woke up the next day, trapped in her apartment, terrified of what would be outside if she left: she couldn’t be there anymore. Korea was too small. Her members and friends knew where she lived and liked to eat and her family’s camping site. There’s no escape, really.
That’s when she decided that she had to leave, had to start over, and had to start fresh. Everything was starting to feel too suffocating. She took her laptop out and over a few cups of tea started to make plans for a life across the globe.
Jihyo had always been better with a plan, with action, with something to do, a goal to work towards. That is what gave her the motivation to start taking all of the necessary steps as she prepared to leave the country. She had it all figured out. She found a new place to live. She had a one way flight booked. She was making all of the necessary arrangements. The only thing left was to finish packing and leave.
She was in her bedroom putting clothes into suitcases when her doorbell rang. She had grown accustomed to freezing and remaining quiet until whoever was there went away. However, it had been a few days since someone yelled through her door and something urged her to move out of her room to listen for a voice if there was any.
She was met with silence and she turned to head back to her room when the recognizable voice came through the door. “Jihyo, it’s me. It’s Sana. Are you in there?” Jihyo’s throat tightened up at the sound of how small Sana sounded, muffled by the closed door. She thought about retreating to her bedroom and acting like she didn’t just hear Sana. But she had never really been able to ignore Sana. She turned and closed her bedroom door, hiding the suitcases and evidence, and wiped her sweaty palms on her sweatpants, pausing at the front door. “I’m pretty sure you’re in there because I saw your car in the lot.” Sana’s voice came through the door again. Jihyo took a steadying breath and looked around at her apartment, thankful that she hadn’t started to pack up the kitchen or living room yet. “Please, let me in. Please.”
The sound of desperation in Sana’s voice made Jihyo feel nauseous and immediately spring into action and reach for the doorknob. She took one more breath in and opened the door.
Sana looked beautiful, as always. But she also looked tired; the cap on her head was unable to hide the bags under her eyes and slightly swollen cheeks which happened when she cried too hard. Jihyo fought every instinct she had to reach out and hold her face and find out why she was crying, but she already knew. Sana locked eyes with her and despite begging for Jihyo to open the door, she seemed surprised that Jihyo actually did. “Hi,” Sana said timidly, as if she was afraid to startle a bird away.
“Hi,” Jihyo exhaled the breath she didn’t even know she was holding. She took the rest of Sana in. The tight grip she had on the strap of her bag that’s hanging over her shoulder. Her baggy pants, creating a tripping hazard over her shoes. The sweatshirt, Jihyo’s sweatshirt, that Sana borrowed ages ago, frayed around the ages from Sana wearing it regularly.
She looked like she just got out of bed.
She looked beautiful.
Jihyo was suddenly aware that she probably looked terrible and instinctively hid part of herself with the door she was still holding on to. She wasn't sure how long they were standing there, both staring at each other waiting for something to break the spell. Sana finally gave in, “Can I come in?”
“Yeah, yeah. Of course,” Jihyo said as she moved to the side and let Sana pass by her. She watched as Sana easily slipped out of her sneakers and took in her surroundings the further she walked into the apartment. Sana used to spend so much time here that it was strange for her to look like a stranger amongst Jihyo’s belongings. Jihyo didn’t realize she was frozen at the door until Sana turned around and looked at her with a curious head tilt. She looked as if she was going to say something, but bit her lip instead. “Do you want to sit?” Jihyo gestured towards the couches behind Sana.
“Sure,” Sana nodded and Jihyo caught the way she glanced nervously as Jihyo limped slowly towards the loveseat. Jihyo felt self conscious and plopped herself down on the couch quicker than she intended. Sana sat across from her and placed her bag down next to her. She folded her hands neatly in her lap and took a breath before smiling. “You look good, Jihyo.” She quickly shook her head at the compliment, avoiding Sana’s eyes and wanting to be swallowed by the couch. “You do,” Sana reassured. “You always do, though.” Sana said it shyly, but it flirted enough with sincerity that Jihyo looked up from the spot on the table she had been focusing on.
“You look better,” Jihyo said matter of factly.
It earned a smile from Sana. “Still competitive,” she mumbled and a whisper of a smile tugged on Jihyo’s lips. “How’s your…” Sana drifted off, her hands gestured towards Jihyo’s body and
Jihyo wondered if Sana’s mind went to an argument from a few months ago as well.
“I don’t need your help, or you constantly asking me how I am doing,” the anger was coursing through Jihyo so much that she felt her hands shake.
“I’m sorry for caring about you,” Sana said under her breath.
“Well stop! I don’t need it.”
Jihyo shrugged at Sana’s question. “I’m okay.” It wasn’t a lie. Some days the pain was unbearable and she couldn't get out of bed. Other days it was manageable. All things considered she was okay.
“Good,” Sana said with a nod. “That’s good. I was- Well I just,” she could tell that Sana was trying to find the words as if she’s navigating a minefield and Jihyo felt guilty, but she also didn’t offer any assistance. “I just…I thought about you,” Sana swallowed and looked Jihyo in the eyes. “All the time.”
Jihyo wanted to respond me too, but the words couldn’t make their way to the surface. “I know you told me not to. Not to care,” Sana continued. “You made that clear. But I just couldn’t. And then the company…PD-nim told us. And you weren’t answering your phone. No one could reach you…” Sana rambled on but Jihyo was still stuck on “I thought about you. All the time.” It was simple. It boiled years of a relationship down to the simple act of not being able to stop thinking of the other person. “I just needed to check on you.”
Jihyo nodded. She understood. One time Sana had a fever and had to miss two shows in a row and Jihyo couldn’t focus for 48 hours until she was able to see that Sana was okay and drinking fluids with her own eyes.
“I’m sorry,” the words came out of Jihyo’s mouth before she really processed what she was saying them for.
Sorry for worrying you.
Sorry for what I said.
Sorry for not answering.
Sorry for the bags that are packed in my bedroom that you don’t even know about.
Sorry for all of it.
“It’s okay,” Sana smiled warmly, like accepting apologies from Jihyo was nothing. Like Jihyo didn’t in fact destroy her the last few weeks and months. “I’m just glad you let me in and we can talk.” Jihyo’s eyes must have widened at the mention of talking because Sana quickly added, “We don’t have to talk. I just- I want…” She knew what Sana meant though. She just wanted to be near.
“No, it’s okay,” Jihyo interrupted Sana’s rambling and cleared her throat. “We should. Talk.” Jihyo looked up and met Sana’s eyes. She looked surprised and it made Jihyo feel more nervous. She quickly ran down a list in her head of possible things to say. I’m leaving. I’m sorry. We were never going to work. We were never possible. It’s for the best. Maybe the accident was for the best. None of this is your fault.
But Sana beat her to speaking first. “We can make it work still, Jihyo,” Sana said so earnestly that Jihyo was ripped from her own thoughts and she almost believed the other woman. “I’ve been thinking about it. I took the space you wanted and I went back to work and I thought it over,” Sana said with such determination. “I can quit the company. We can move abroad. You know I’ve always wanted to live in Europe. I don’t need to be an idol anymore. I don’t want to. Not without you. I only kept going for so long because of you. I mean, I love everyone else, obviously. But you made it possible.”
Jihyo watched the way that Sana spoke. After years of knowing her, she knew that Sana never said anything that she didn’t first put a lot of thought into. Sana went on, describing the life that Jihyo and her could have together. She recognized it, from a different time.
“Sana, we can do this. We can be together. We can do what we want. That is- Well I guess if you still-”
Sana grabbed her by the front of her shirt and pulled her closer, her lips just a breath away. “If you doubt that I still want this for one second you are out of your mind,” Sana assured before she crashed their lips together.
And for the first time in a long time, Jihyo felt something she hadn’t dared to feel before: Hope.
Hope is a tricky thing, though. Because when the thing you are hoping for doesn’t happen, the pain is that much greater. As she sat there and watched Sana build a world full of possibility and hope she wanted to believe it. She did. But the thing was, she wasn’t the Jihyo that Sana dreamt all those dreams with over the years. She wasn’t sure who she was anymore. The idea of expecting Sana to throw everything away- for what? A person that no longer existed?
Sana was building an entire world for them on the shoulders of a hope that Jihyo would be able to build it with her. Maybe the old Jihyo could, but not the one that could barely walk around her apartment without sitting down for a few moments at a time.
She watched as Sana spoke for a little bit longer before she looked back into her eyes. “So what do you think?” Sana asked, and that hope lit up her whole face. “I know it’s a lot and you can have some time to think it over before we decide anything.”
(“We decide anything”, Jihyo thought. How nice it is to be a “we” for even just a moment.)
Jihyo nodded and smiled thinly, “That would be good.”
Sana smiled back and patted her lap with her hands. “Well, after dumping all of that on you I should probably get going and let you think things over, huh?”
Jihyo’s heart clenched and she wanted to scream don’t leave, stay forever, but she nodded her head and grabbed the arm of the couch to pull herself up to her feet. Her back felt tighter than it had all day and she couldn’t stop herself before wincing in pain. Before she even realized what was happening Sana’s hands were around her waist helping her up. “I got you,” Sana whispered and the closeness made Jihyo feel dizzy. Out of habit, Jihyo glanced down at Sana's lips. She felt a burn where Sana’s one hand was making contact with the skin on her back where her shirt had risen up slightly. It only took a split second, though, before Jihyo was reminded of the scar on her back and she pushed herself away from Sana, breaking the spell. “You okay?” Sana asked, pulling her hands back to her sides awkwardly.
“Yeah. Just…stiff,” Jihyo said as she shifted on her leg and tried to make herself seem as stable as possible.
“You don’t have to walk me out, I know the way,” Sana said shyly and looked down at her feet. There were still so many things Jihyo wanted to say, but the words wouldn’t come out. “Just-” Sana sighed before looking back up at Jihyo. “Just promise when I come back you’ll let me in again? No more shutting me out?”
Jihyo could feel the boxes from behind her bedroom door, packed of her clothes and books, getting ready to move across the world, screaming at her: Tell her! Tell her, you coward!
But telling her would have required Jihyo to put up a fight for something, and she had no more fight left in her. Telling her would mean that she would have to refuse Sana of something, and she had never been able to do that. Telling her would mean taking a future away that Sana worked so hard for. Telling her would mean that the hope in Sana’s eyes would disappear, and she couldn’t do that to her right this moment.
So, she didn’t tell her. Instead, she did what she has gotten used to doing lately.
“I promise,” Jihyo lied.
Sana beamed at Jihyo and it almost made Jihyo squint from the pure sunshine she emanated. “Okay, I’ll come back then. When you’re ready. I can wait,” Sana grinned before reaching out and brushing a strand of hair out of Jihyo’s face, her hand trailing down to her cheek and her thumb rubbing a soft circle. “I’ll wait.”
Sana turned and slipped her shoes on at the door, glancing back at Jihyo one last time.
When the door shut, Jihyo crumbled back down to the couch, her head falling into her hands, touching the spot on her cheek that Sana had just touched, and the sobs ripped through her.
Sana would move on. She would find someone else who could give her the future she deserved. She wouldn’t be tied down to someone who was so…broken.
Two days later she placed two cards on her kitchen counter with two names neatly written.
One was for Jeongyeon, letting her friend know that she would call when she got to her final destination on a new number and to give the other letter on the counter to Sana.
The letter to Sana said a few things.
Mostly it said, “I’m sorry”.
It also said, “Don’t wait. Please, don’t wait for me.”
VI
(before the before)
Jihyo’s eyes fluttered open and she was met with a bright light. “Ms. Park, can you hear me?” She tried to open her mouth to say that she could but it felt like there was a weight on her chest that was suffocating her. “Just stay with us, okay?”
She thought that she nodded, but she wasn’t sure if she had any control over her body anymore. Her eyes drifted close to the sound of machines beeping around her and people she didn’t know were talking about IVs and monitors.
When her eyes opened again the next time she was met with her mother standing above her. “Oh thank God. Jihyo? Can you hear me?” Her throat felt so dry. She wondered if this was going to impact her voice. “Here, have some water,” her mother held up a cup with a straw to her lips. She went to sit up but was unable to move her limbs to do so. “Don’t move too much. Your body has been through too much.”
It felt like a puzzle that she couldn’t quite put together. She closed her eyes and tried to remember.
“I’m on my way, I’ll be there in twenty,” she said over the phone, happiness and excitement bubbling in her chest.
“Promise?” the voice on the other end giggled.
“I promise, Sana,” Jihyo laughed before hanging up.
Sana.
She could remember the way her voice sounded. The way she was so excited to get to where Sana was. Jihyo blinked and focused on her surroundings. The cold air of the room. The blank walls. The beeping in the background. The itchiness of the blanket on top of her. The concern of her mother.
She was in the hospital.
The water cooled her throat and allowed her to cough slightly. “What,” her voice was scratchy, but she had to know. “What happened?”
Her mother looked at her apprehensively and with the concern only a mother could really have. “You don’t need to worry about that right now.”
“Please,” Jihyo looked into her mother’s eyes and begged.
Her mother sighed and looked down at the floor, biting her lip, before looking back up. “There was an accident.”
The other driver apparently had fallen asleep at the wheel after working all day at his part time job. The rain didn’t help. He swerved into Jihyo’s lane and she tried to get out of the way, but the overcorrection on the wet roads caused her car to spin out of control and flip. Twice. (Later she would humorlessly chuckle at the irony of that.)
Emergency surgery on her spine.
Another surgery might be needed for her knee.
Internal bleeding.
Lacerations.
Hearing the details gave Jihyo a headache. She eventually told her mother to stop speaking after she heard most of it. She had asked about the members, but wanted to ask about one member in particular. Her mother let her know that they all had barely left the hospital waiting room, but that the hospital was only allowing family inside the room. “I think Sana is still out there, though. That girl is stubborn like you,” her mother fussed as she fixed the blanket near Jihyo’s hand. For the first time since she opened her eyes she felt her chest unclench a bit.
Just the knowledge that Sana was in the same building as she was. Waiting for her.
Her eyes drifted shut, going back to the last thing she remembered.
Promise?
I promise, Sana.
When her eyes opened next the room seemed lighter than it had before. She glanced to her right where the window was. The sky seemed grey, the sun was either rising or setting; Jihyo had no way of telling what time it was. She swallowed through the dryness of her throat slowly and then turned her head to the left. She was met with the sight of a familiar figure curled up into the uncomfortable hospital chair. Her knees were pulled up and her head was resting on top of them. Her face was tilted towards Jihyo as if even in sleep she needed to be looking towards Jihyo.
Sana.
She looked small. Like the teenage girl she met from Japan all those years ago. Excited. No idea what she was in for.
“It’s nice to meet you Jihyo-ssi,” Jihyo was greeted with a face with cheeks that looked like they were storing food for winter. Jihyo’s guard was up. Always up during those intense trainee days. Constantly afraid of losing it all.
But looking at this girl, bright eyed and full of joy: the guard dropped.
“Nice to meet you too,” Jihyo said and felt an unstoppable smile tug at her lips.
Jihyo attempted to speak, but felt her voice pushing past a cough. She cleared her throat and Sana’s head popped up from where it was resting on her knees. “Jihyo?”
“Hey,” Jihyo said, her voice still scratchy. Sana jumped up and stood at Jihyo’s bedside grabbing her hand gently. Jihyo looked up and with the proximity she was able to see the bags under Sana’s eyes. The puffiness on her eyelids. The way she was breathing heavily, as if she had been holding her breath for hours at a time. Jihyo used whatever strength she could muster and squeezed Sana’s hand. “Hey,” she repeated, getting Sana to stop her eyes from searching Jihyo for signs of discomfort and to look in her eyes. “You’re here,” Jihyo stated.
Sana shook her scoffed, “Of course I am.” Sana lifted her hand and paused, unsure of herself before giving in and brushing a strand of hair out of Jihyo’s face. “I haven’t left.”
“You should get some sleep,” Jihyo voiced her concern sleepily, her own eyes fighting to stay open. “You must be tired.” Sana’s brow furrowed and she shook her head.
“I’m not going anywhere,” Sana said with stubborn determination. Jihyo nodded, too exhausted to argue with her, and relieved that Sana was there. She shifted slightly in the bed to try to move up a bit, but her body couldn’t cooperate with her and she winced slightly. “Are you in any pain? Should I get the nurse?”
Jihyo shook her head. “No,” she grabbed Sana's hand tightly. “Just stay.” Sana looked her over and pursed her lips before nodding and sitting herself carefully at the edge of the bed next to Jihyo, never letting her hand go.
“Did you see the doctor yet?”
Jihyo searched her mind, but all she could remember was her mother filling her in.
An accident.
Surgery.
More surgery.
Almost didn’t make it.
“Just my mom,” she said and another yawn broke its way to the surface. “Can’t seem to wake up,” Jihyo said sleepily.
“You’re on a lot of pain medication,” Sana said calmly as she rubbed soothing circles with her thumb on the back of Jihyo’s hand. “Just rest. Your body needs to rest.”
“You’re working too hard, Jihyo,” Sana said firmly after she closed the dressing room door. “You’re not a superhero. It’s okay to take breaks.”
“I can’t,” Jihyo looked in her eyes and saw concern all over her face. It was too overwhelming. She couldn’t deal with someone caring so much about her right now. Not when she had so much to do. Not when everyone was counting on her. “I can’t just stop. I’m the leader.”
“Jihyo-“ Sana stepped closer and Jihyo felt herself step further back. She couldn’t have this. She couldn’t fall apart. She couldn’t let Sana in like this because the second she did-
“I’m fine. I’ll be fine.”
“I’m fine, Sana,” she mumbled as her eyes drifted close.
“Just rest. I’m not going anywhere,” Sana whispered and continued to rub the back of Jihyo’s hand. At some point Jihyo could have sworn she heard quiet humming. A song she had heard once before in her bedroom, drifting off under sheets while soothing circles were rubbed on her naked back by the same person humming right now.
Sana didn’t go anywhere, just as she promised. She stayed by her side when she woke up the next day (and the next day and the next day) and she helped Jihyo eat her breakfast and held a straw up to her lips when she was thirsty. She fixed Jihyo’s pillows and blankets and asked regularly if she was feeling okay or if she was in any pain.
It was different being cared for in this way. Jihyo wasn’t used to it. However, despite Jihyo’s insistence that Sana go get rest: Sana never left her side. She brushed Jihyo’s hair. She watched boring television shows with her.
When no nurses or her family were around, Sana would kiss her temple reverently. Her lips stayed there long enough for Jihyo to feel everything unsaid between them.
The other members kept calling and checking in and wanting to know when was a good time that they could come visit themselves. She said she wanted to rest some more and get herself out of bed before they came because she didn’t want to worry anyone. Sana nodded solemnly and looked towards the nurse who was adjusting Jihyo’s IV at the time.
There was an unspoken conversation between Sana and the nurse that briefly caught Jihyo’s attention. The nurse fiddled with her wires and coughed. Sana smiled tightly and looked away. Jihyo would remember this moment later. But in the moment she thought that was just Sana, regularly making conversation and being too familiar with everyone within her vicinity. Jihyo ignored it and let Sana fuss over whether she had enough pillows.
It was a few days later when the doctor came back to check on Jihyo. Her mother had left to go get lunch and it was just her and Sana in the room. Jihyo attempted to sit up more in the bed when the doctor entered, but Sana gently put her hand on her shoulder to keep her still.
“No need to move for me, Ms. Park,” the doctor stated with a smile. “How are we feeling?”
“Good, all things considered. Ready to get out of here and start whatever I need to do to get back to my life,” Jihyo said with a confident smile, always ready to put in the hard work to keep moving.
The doctor smiled back tightly, glancing down at her chart in his hands. He glanced back up and made eye contact with Sana, ever so briefly, before returning his attention to Jihyo. “Ms. Park, your body has been through quite a lot,” he explained slowly and Jihyo nodded.
“Oh, I am aware,” Jihyo attempted to laugh, but there was a tension in the room that was making it hard to gauge what was happening.
“As you know we operated on your spine to stabilize it, but there is still quite a bit of swelling. We won’t know until that goes down what things will look like moving forward,” he drummed his fingers against the chart, as if the sound would make things easier for him to speak. “And then there’s the matter of your knee, which will more than likely also need surgery once you’ve recovered more fully.”
Jihyo instinctively squeezed Sana’s hand tighter. Something she used to do during award shows or when they would take final bows at concerts. It was a thing she did that reminded her that someone else was right next to her, that Sana was still beside her despite the scary thing happening in front of them. “Okay…but after that…” Jihyo furrowed her brow and looked to where Sana was standing next to the bed, but Sana wouldn’t meet her eyes. “Sure, it’ll take a bit of time. But I’m young. I can do some physical therapy.”
“Ms. Park,” the doctor inhaled, and kept drumming his fingers nervously. “I’m not sure you are understanding the gravity of the situation.” Jihyo moved her foot underneath the blanket as if to confirm something for herself. Yes, it hurt to do so. But she could move. She wasn’t paralyzed. “Performing, the amount that you are used to, the way that used to…it’s just not realistic.” Jihyo felt like all of the air had been sucked out of the room, and she felt Sana squeeze her hand tighter. “We are going to do everything we can to get you back on your feet. But 100% recovery, after injuries like this? I just…” his voice trailed off. There were things about percentages and statistics, but Jihyo didn’t hear any of it. Eventually he stopped and asked if she had any questions. Jihyo had found a spot on her bed that she was staring at and just kept repeating “it’s just not realistic” in her head over and over again.
“Thank you, doctor. I’ll let her mother know when she gets back,” she heard Sana say before the doctor turned to leave.
The door of the room closed behind the doctor and the silence in the room was deafening. Sana put her other hand on top of the one that was holding Jihyo’s hand, but the touch was no longer comforting and Jihyo pulled her hand back. “Jihyo,” Sana started, but Jihyo shook her head.
“Did you know?” The silence in the room continued to the point where Jihyo could hear the way that Sana was shuffling on her feet, a trait she would do when she was nervous. “Sana, did you know?” She repeated, firmer.
“Your mom told us the night of-”
“So everyone knows?” Jihyo processed the new information. Imagined her members' faces being told their leader could no longer perform.
“Everyone was just relieved that you’re alive and you will walk again and recover, no one cares about any-”
“I care,” Jihyo interrupted and looked up at Sana for the first time since the doctor left. “I care, Sana. This is my whole life. I have been performing since I was a baby.” Tears were stinging the back of her eyes, but something was holding them back. Anger. A white boiling rage that was beginning to simmer.
Rage at the doctor.
Rage at the driver of the other car.
Rage at herself for driving that night.
Rage at everyone for not telling her when she woke up.
“I know baby, but,” Sana started to say, but the use of the pet name that was only shared up until now in quiet stolen moments between them cut through her. It was something that was sacred and now felt like it was being used like a weapon to make her calm down.
“Don’t. Don’t do that,” Jihyo shook her head and put her hand up. She wanted to run away. She wanted to get up out of bed and storm out. But she was chained to the bed like a prisoner. The room felt suffocating. The bed suddenly was more uncomfortable than it had been the last few days. “Just- just go, please,” she saw Sana shaking her head out of the corner of her eye. “I need you to leave.”
“I told you. I’m not going anywhere,” Sana’s voice sounded shaky, and she reached for Jihyo’s hand, but Jihyo pulled away.
“Please,” Jihyo looked at her, begging. “I just want to be alone for a little bit.”
Sana bit her lip, and then hesitantly nodded. “Okay, okay. I’ll come back tomorrow.”
Jihyo wanted to say Don’t, please. Don’t come back until all of this is over. But she didn’t say that.
Not yet, at least.
Sana silently grabbed things that she had accumulated from a few days of staying by Jihyo’s hospital bedside and put them into her bag. She then went to leave, but turned back. She hesitated and licked her lips as if wanting to act on something, but not wanting to upset Jihyo further. “I love you,” Sana whispered and Jihyo looked into her eyes. Sana hadn’t said it the last few days. But she showed it in the way she never left Jihyo’s side, and the way she cared for her.
The rage was still there, but Jihyo couldn’t lie when it came to Sana. She never could. “I love you, too,” she whispered back.
Sana exhaled a breath she was holding and nodded her head once before turning to leave.
When the door shut this time it was just Jihyo, alone. It was what she wanted. Because she couldn’t let Sana see as the tears finally fell from her eyes and everything around her shattered to pieces.
Sana did come back the next day.
And the day after that.
And the day after that.
And the day after…
She kept showing up and each time she did Jihyo felt herself pushing her further and further away.
It started out small. Sana asked if she was in any pain and Jihyo would snap, “You don’t have to ask me every five minutes.”
And then it grew.
When the nurses helped sit Jihyo further up to start doing small exercises, Sana asked questions and had them show her how to help more. It was Sana, being her normal extroverted and engaged self that Jihyo used to laugh at, but now it felt like nails on a chalkboard.
When Sana went to help Jihyo sit up and move her legs, she pushed her hand away. “The nurses showed me how to properly lift you,” Sana practically scolded and went to help again.
“Sana, stop,” Jihyo used the energy she barely had to yell. The small act of shifting in the bed to swing her legs to the side exhausting her.
“I’m just trying to help,” Sana said quietly. “The nurses said you should stretch a few times a day and they showed me-”
It was too much for Jihyo. The way Sana was treating her like a child. The way that she could barely move on her own without assistance. The rage that was brewing more and more. “Just stop, please. Just leave me alone. I can do it myself.”
Sana looked hurt, and Jihyo always hated when Sana was hurt. But this time Jihyo was doing the hurting, and everything in her own body hurt too much to care.
And so it went.
Sana would try to help. Jihyo would yell at her, tell her to leave, and ignore her.
One day when Sana came by, like she usually did the second visiting hours started, Jihyo couldn’t even pretend to be happy to see her. “Don’t you have practices or brand responsibilities?” Anything, Jihyo thought. Anything that would get you away from here.
Sana shrugged off her coat and threw it over the chair, rolling up her sleeves as if ready to get to a full day of work. “I canceled all brand promos right now,” Sana said distractedly as she crossed her arms over her chest. “Did the physical therapist come back today?”
“What do you mean you canceled them?” Jihyo ignored Sana’s question and her voice rose. “When are you rescheduling them?”
“I canceled stuff…indefinitely,” Sana shrugged.
“Why?”
Sana furrowed her brow and then sighed, “You know why.” Sana went back to pouring Jihyo a cup of water. “Did you want me to get you some ice?” Sana went about her normal routine in the hospital and Jihyo watched her carefully. She watched the way Sana smiled at the physical therapist when they came, the way that Sana took notes of what would be the most comfortable exercises for Jihyo. She watched Sana cover a yawn when she finally sat down in the uncomfortable chair when the nurse had left.
When Sana left that night, after a few more hours of bickering, she left Jihyo alone with her thoughts. Jihyo rubbed her eyes tiredly. This was not the life she envisioned for herself. Her life and her dream and her future plans were snatched from her with medical jargon and pain medication and uncertainties. The years Jihyo had worked to get to where she was: gone.
But now, Sana’s career and dreams and future plans were being taken away too.
Jihyo tried to imagine a life where Sana had to help Jihyo get out of a bed forever, her own exhaustion wearing her down until Sana was nothing but a fraction of the woman she had been. She imagined where Sana missed out on career opportunities. Where the light in her eyes that she got from performing and being in the spotlight began to dim. And it would all boil down to these moments happening in this hospital room where she refused to leave Jihyo’s side and Jihyo was letting it happen.
The life that Jihyo was losing was out of her control.
But this: the life that Sana could have…that was within her control.
She was probably never going to be the leader of TWICE ever again. But she could make one last decision for the better of the group. She had control of that still.
The next day when Sana arrived, Jihyo was already sitting up on the side of the bed. The physical therapist and nurse assisting her with her light leg exercises. Jihyo looked up and was met with a surprised Sana at the door. “Oh, you’re up early?” Sana questioned, her head tilting.
“Can you guys give us a minute?” Jihyo asked the nurse and therapist who politely nodded and gave Sana small waves as they left them.
Sana entered the room more and looked at Jihyo confusedly. “Felt extra motivated today?”
Jihyo avoided her eyes and found a spot on the floor as she swallowed hard. “I need to start doing this stuff on my own.”
“But why? I’m here to help. And the other girls want to help too and-”
“I don’t want their help. And I especially don’t want your help,” Jihyo said the sentence that she practiced all morning out loud slowly. She wanted the words to be heard. “I need you to go back to work, go back to your schedules. I don’t need you here.” Sana’s brow furrowed and her mouth opened to protest, but Jihyo held up a hand. “I appreciate you coming by and wanting to help, but I need to be able to do this on my own. You can’t just stay here forever. That can’t happen.”
Sana’s eyes scanned Jihyo’s face as if trying to read a book in a foreign language. “I don’t- I don’t understand. You said…before the accident you said-” They had rarely referenced before the accident and the conversations that were had. The promises made. The life that Jihyo swore she would finally give Sana. “What about us?”
In the days of all of the things unsaid, that was the one thing hanging above them. The elephant in the room that no one acknowledged. The bubble that surrounded them that no one would pop.
Jihyo swallowed before she looked into Sana’s eyes, steadying herself. “There is no us.”
Pop.
“You don’t mean that,” Sana took a step towards Jihyo. “Nothing has changed. Not for me.”
“Well,” Jihyo fixed her shoulders as firmly as she could. “It has changed for me.”
Jihyo watched as Sana inhaled sharply, like she had just been punched in the gut. “Jihyo, you promised. You said nothing else mattered.” Sana’s voice was shaky and Jihyo had to look away.
“I guess I lied,” she said as she found a spot to stare on the floor.
But hands grabbed her by the cheeks and pulled her face up, “You don’t lie. Not to me.”
“Did you mean it?” Sana asked, shyly, unsure of herself, like she couldn’t trust anything. “Did you mean it when you said you liked me?”
And Jihyo couldn’t lie. The words couldn’t form. She was tired of hiding. Tired of not being honest with herself.
“Yeah, I meant it,” she stated and then took the last step that was separating them before pulling Sana toward her.
Jihyo closed her eyes, but Sana’s touch forced her to open her eyes, to tell the truth. “Don’t do this to us,” Sana pleaded. “Not after everything.”
The hand at her cheek felt warm and Jihyo leaned into the touch. “I could do this forever,” Jihyo sighed, closing her eyes as Sana’s hand moved from her cheek to her temple, to down her neck, to back up again.
“Lay in bed and stare at each other all day?”
“Yeah.”
“Then let’s do it forever.”
Everything. Sana said with the weight of the years of push and pull and secrets and almost misses.
There was a lot that they had been through. But that was before. Before an accident that changed everything for Jihyo, and she wasn’t going to let it change everything for Sana.
“I don’t want you here anymore,” Jihyo said coldly as she pulled Sana’s hands away from her face. “I need to recover and I can’t recover with you constantly badgering me and constantly trying to make things sound better than they are. You knew my career was going to be ruined for days and you didn’t even tell me. Do you know how that feels?”
“I know baby and I didn’t mean-” Tears began to form in Sana’s eyes and she grabbed on to Jihyo’s hand tightly.
“Stop. There is no us. I can’t be what you want or need me to be and I don’t want any of that anymore. Because I’m not that person that made those promises to you.”
“Please don’t do this, Jihyo,” Sana’s voice sounded foreign to her. It was strangled and pained in a way that Jihyo had never heard before. “You don’t have to do this alone. I’m here for you-”
“And I don’t want you here!” Jihyo bit back as she freed her hand from Sana’s grasp. “Don’t you get that? I don’t want you.”
“You don’t mean that,” Sana said, shakily, the tears flowing down her face. “You’re upset and I get that-”
“No you don’t! You don’t get it! You don’t get what any of this is like!” Jihyo’s chest felt heavy and there was a voice in her head telling her to stop, but she couldn't. “I went from being able to perform on a stage for hours and get up the next morning and do it all over again. And now I’m going to be lucky if I can walk down a block without resting. You don’t know what that’s like because you can still do all of those things,” she spat it out heavily, the rage that had been simmering for days boiling over. “Just leave me alone, please. I just need to be alone so I can focus on this,” she pointed to her body. “So I can learn what the hell I am supposed to be now. Go back to your promos. Go perform with MISAMO. Just go. Please.”
The only sound that could be heard in the room was Sana’s quiet sniffles. It lasted for minutes and then she finally looked up and wiped her nose. “Okay. I’ll give you space. I’ll respect that,” She watched as Sana inhaled deeply. “I know you’ve been through a lot and this is hard.” Sana nodded, as if convincing herself. “But just because you say there’s no us doesn’t make it true. I love you. Just because I leave this room and go back to my schedules until you’re ready…None of that changes the fact that I love you.”
It’ll fade, Jihyo hoped. She prayed it would fade for her, too.
She and Sana stared at each other for what felt like years. The years of their history splayed out before them. Sana tearing out her heart and laying it on the hospital floor in between them and Jihyo just stared at it, breathing heavily.
With things still unsaid and all of the things that were said Sana finally turned and left the room.
Jihyo exhaled the second the door closed, the weight of her lies and her anger and everything falling off of her.
Sana’s “I love you” hung in the air, left there without a response because she couldn’t lie one more time. She couldn’t say “I don’t love you”. She couldn’t say “I never loved you”. Because she had always loved Sana. She would always love Sana. But just because her life was ruined didn’t mean Sana’s had to be.
It was for the best.
She didn’t need anyone to get past this.
She would do it on her own.
She couldn't do much right now. But she could do this.
She had to do this.
(What Jihyo didn’t know yet, couldn’t know, was that she didn’t just lose her career. She didn’t just push the love of her life out the door. She lost an entire future that she had hoped and dreamed for. An entire lifetime that hadn’t happened yet. Gone. And she would spend years grieving that.)
Saudade: yearning for something that might have been, but never will happen.