wip amnesty part v
Jan. 21st, 2023 01:11 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
notspringtitle: triangulate.
pairing: ??? soonyoung & minghao & jihoon
word count: 3200 words
rating: teen
warnings: genderswap
i.
Soonyoung's been weirdly serious all day: eyeing Jihoon when he thinks Jihoon isn't looking, then jerking his gaze away as soon as she looks up. Fidgeting way more than usual, his knee bouncing practically uncontrollably as it thuds against the desk in an irritating rhythm.
“Quit it,” Jihoon mutters, not looking away from her computer screen. Soonyoung freezes, his whole body going tense. Jihoon stifles the impulse to look over at him.
An uncomfortable silence falls between them, choking the air out of the room despite Jihoon's best efforts to ignore it. She sighs, finally, and gives in.
“Is something wrong?”
“What?”
When she finally looks over Soonyoung's eyes are wide, looking genuinely shocked at being caught out. Like he hasn't been acting like a freak for the past hour and a half. Jihoon sighs again.
“You're acting weird,” she says flatly, nodding her head towards Soonyoung's restless knee, which started up again almost as soon as Jihoon opened her mouth.
Soonyoung's mouth twists, uncharacteristically hesitant, and that's when Jihoon actually starts to worry for real.
“Did something happen?”
Soonyoung doesn't deny it right away, but when Jihoon's eyes widen he shakes his head, catching up.
“Not like that!” he says, waving his hands in front of me. “Not to me.”
Jihoon narrows her eyes.
“Then to who?”
Soonyoung chews at his bottom lip rather than responding, obviously torn. Jihoon's sympathetic; it's not like she wants to dig into someone else's personal business, either. Hell, she doesn't even want to dig into Soonyoung's.
She does want to get her work done, though, and she can't do that if Soonyoung's acting like a freak. So.
“Who?” she asks again, not giving up. Soonyoung makes a face, glancing at his own screen and then back to Jihoon.
“You're seeing a therapist, right?”
Jihoon's mouth drops open. Horrifyingly, she feels her cheeks flush, even though she knows there isn't anything to be embarrassed about.
Really. She does know.
It just feels weird to hear Soonyoung say it so directly, when they've never actually spoken about it out loud before.
“Um,” she says intelligently. “Yeah, I'm. Yeah. I am.”
“Do you think you could send me their number?”
The dread in Jihoon's stomach has started to spread, a weird tingling feeling in her fingers she doesn't know what to do with.
“Sure,” she says, fumbling for her phone.
“Nothing happened to me,” Soonyoung repeats uselessly.
“I believe you,” Jihoon answers, eyes on her phone screen. It's not a lie; she really does. Soonyoung can't lie for shit. She just doesn’t believe that he’s telling the whole truth, either. “Who is it, then?” she asks again, pressing a little, more because she thinks Soonyoung needs to say it than because she actually wants to hear it.
Soonyoung's mouth pinches together. It's a weird look on him. Foreign. His knee isn't bouncing anymore, but that's only because he's physically holding it still, fingers in a tight grip on his own thigh.
“Soonyoung?”
“It's just something that happened,” he mutters. Jihoon stares at him, weirdly hurt that she doesn't know what he's talking about.
“But not to you?”
The words come out awkward, too stiff. Jihoon doesn't know how to do this. She thought she knew everything that had ever happened to Soonyoung.
“No, but,” Soonyoung starts, not meeting her eyes. “I feel like it was my fault.”
“Was it?”
Soonyoung's face goes white and Jihoon wishes, fervently, that there was someone in the room who was actually good at this.
“I don't know,” Soonyoung breathes out, finally, on a humourless laugh. “I guess that's what I want to ask a therapist.”
“You could ask me,” Jihoon says uncertainly, because Soonyoung's her best friend and it feels like she should.
Soonyoung looks weirdly vulnerable; his shoulders hunched, an unsure expression on his face Jihoon doesn't really recognize. She feels unsure, herself. Unsure of what this means, what it says about them. Unsure of where they stand, if Soonyoung's been hiding things from her. She didn't think he knew how to do that.
“I can't,” Soonyoung says, and it digs in, sharp. Jihoon looks away, hurt, fighting very hard to keep her body still, resisting the urge to chew at her bottom lip. Soonyoung will know, if she does that. Soonyoung knows all her tells.
“Jihoon-ah,” Soonyoung says, voice pleading, scooting his chair closer to her. Jihoon swallows hard; doesn't look at him. “Jihoon. Are you upset?”
“No,” Jihoon forces out, hating the emotion in her voice. She isn't upset. She isn't. Soonyoung's a grown man; he can do what he wants. He doesn't have to tell her anything he doesn't want to. Jihoon doesn't want him to, usually, it's that usually it doesn't matter, because he does it anyway.
“It's just because it wasn't me,” Soonyoung says. “If it happened to me I would tell you, I promise.”
He kind of sounds like someone's boyfriend, apologizing for something he'll definitely do again. But it’s Soonyoung, and he always means it, and he isn't Jihoon's boyfriend. He isn’t Jihoon’s boyfriend and he didn't do anything wrong, and Jihoon’s annoyed at both of them, suddenly, for letting the conversation end up like this.
“Don't worry about it,” she says, looking directly at him as she straightens in her seat. It was stupid of her to offer, anyway. Why would anyone want to ask her anything? She never knows what to say.
“Okay,” Soonyoung agrees, but he doesn't seem convinced. He still looks troubled as he settles back into his seat, tearing his gaze away slowly to refocus on the screen in front of him.
Jihoon tries to think about something else, anything else. The composition she’s been working on, due in less than twenty-four hours. The other composition she’s working on, the one for Soonyoung’s dance team. He’s been freaking out about it ever since Minghao quit suddenly, apparently the formations are all wrong, but there’s no one he can get to sub in. He’s been trying to convince Jihoon to do it for the past week, as though Jihoon being nearly a full foot shorter than Minghao won’t ruin the formations even more.
“Let's order Chinese for dinner,” she says, pushing all those thoughts aside. She’s technically on a diet but Soonyoung hates it, is always complaining that Jihoon never eats anything but plain chicken breast. This feels like a compromise, even if Jihoon isn't really sure what, exactly, she's trying to compromise on.
“Sure,” Soonyoung agrees, smiling at her with ill-disguised relief. “Chinese sounds great.”
ii.
Minghao’s late to Soonyoung’s birthday dinner.
It isn’t on purpose, obviously, but it makes her anxious that he’ll think it is. Showing up for someone is showing you care, after all. Soonyoung’s come to all of Minghao’s birthday dinners — all her work events, too, ever since she got the job at the gallery. He always has, and he’s almost never late. Chan’s influence more than anything, probably, but the point still stands.
Minghao’s usually never late either.
She hates it, and she hates being anything less than put together, and she hates both of those things even more when they’re witnessed by other people, so showing up halfway through the meal red-faced and flustered feels like personal failure. She’s scowling almost as soon as she reaches the booth, set off immediately by the teasing look on Junhui’s face.
It’s not about you, she reminds herself, taking a breath and smoothing out her expression into something gentler. It’s supposed to be Soonyoung’s day, after all. It’s not about how Minghao feels.
“Happy birthday!” she says, coming around the table so she can lean over him for a hug.
Soonyoung lets out a pleased sound as he reaches up to grab Minghao’s arms, nuzzling jokingly into the crook of her elbow.
“Xu Minghao!” he crows happily, a big grin on his face when he finally turns up to look at her. “You made it!”
“Of course I made it,” she responds, her own voice much softer. “It’s you.”
It’s Soonyoung’s night so he’s in the middle, and the seats around him are all filled up. Minghao drops one last kiss on the top of his head and moves towards the edge of the table, taking a seat next to Chan and diagonal from Junhui, across from someone she doesn’t know. It feels weird that there are people in Soonyoung’s life she doesn’t know, now. Sadness settles in her stomach, threatening to curdle.
“I’m Minghao,” she says as she sits, pushing away urge to sulk with a neat smile.
The woman on the other side of the table is smaller than Minghao but broader, hair cut neat and short, cheeks flushed pink from the heat of the grill.
“Lee Jihoon,” she says, her own smile a little uncomfortable around the edges.
Minghao pauses, then, startled. She does know her. Of course she does.
“Oh,” she says, blinking. “I’m sorry — we never actually met. You wrote our song for us, right? For Soonyoung’s junior showcase.”
It feels like so long ago, now. Years and years. Minghao quit before she got to do Soonyoung’s senior showcase; she’s pretty sure Jihoon helped with that one, too.
“I did, yeah,” Jihoon says, nodding. Her cheeks have gone a little pink. “I’d almost forgotten.”
“It was really good,” Minghao says, the memory of it coming back in a rush. They’d had so much fun preparing for it, pulling back-to-back all-nighters with a recklessness Minghao knows she could never hope to recreate now. “I never got to thank you for it properly.”
“Ah,” Jihoon says, waving a hand. “Please don’t.”
Minghao tilts her head at that, bemused, but nods her assent anyway. Jihoon’s still smiling but her cheeks are really red, now, like she’s genuinely embarrassed.
It’s cute, especially contrasted with her flat voice.
“It’s nice to finally meet you, anyway,” Minghao says, trying to steer them somewhere that’ll make Jihoon less uncomfortable. “I know Soonyoung admires you so much.”
“Ah, Soonyoung,” Jihoon laughs, rolling her eyes — fondly, Minghao thinks. “You know how he is. He always — talks.”
“He does do that,” Minghao laughs in agreement. She spares a glance towards where Soonyoung’s seated at the middle of the table. His face is bright red already, gesticulating wildly as he speaks. Jihoon follows her gaze and snorts.
“He’ll feel this tomorrow,” she says — more observation than judgment, a plainspoken statement of fact.
“Probably,” Minghao agrees. “But it is his birthday.”
Before she can dig for something else to carry on the conversation Junhui catches her eye from where he’s sitting next to Jihoon, raising a questioning eyebrow. You okay? Minghao’s too good at controlling her expression to roll her eyes but she does widen them meaningfully, jerking her chin towards the conversation near the middle the table that had been holding his attention before. Junhui makes a little grimace in response, and Minghao’s cheeks flush in embarrassed irritation.
She’s not quite subtle enough to keep the exchange from Jihoon, whose eyes dart between Minghao and Junhui, hesitance in the set of her shoulders and a question in the tilt of her head.
“Is there something missing?” she asks, misinterpreting, craning her head to get a better look at the other end of the table. “I think that side’s still got — ”
“It’s fine,” Minghao says, as much to Junhui as to Jihoon. She widens her eyes one more time, this time making a shooing motion until he gives in and turns back towards the others. “Sorry,” she says, focusing back on Jihoon. “He’s just — ”
She falters as she tries to come up for a word for what, exactly, Junhui is. The corner of Jihoon’s mouth turns up in a smile.
“I see,” she says, but it’s impossible to tell from her tone whether she really does or not. “Well. I’m still hungry, so — ”
She twists in her seat as she speaks, cutting herself off to call for the waitress instead, the movement smooth and easy. It makes Minghao feel even more out of place, with her neat business clothes and rigid posture. Jihoon’s only in a plain t-shirt, and she seems perfectly comfortable.
“You’re going to eat, right?” she asks when the meat shows up, already reaching for the tongs. She pauses a little, hovering, until Minghao straightens in her seat and nods.
She’s not really one for barbecue — too greasy, usually, and she doesn’t like how much everyone drinks. But it’s Soonyoung’s birthday and even if it wasn’t, it’s nearly 9 P.M, and Minghao hasn’t eaten since lunch.
“This is okay?” Jihoon checks one more time as she starts to arrange the meat on the grill. Minghao nods — she doesn’t really care. She’s not a big eater.
“Thanks,” Minghao hurries to add belatedly, but Jihoon only shrugs, eyes still on the grill.
“So, um,” Minghao starts, once Jihoon’s relaxed a little, sat back in her seat as she waits for the meat to cook. “What are you doing these days? Soonyoung said you’re working as a producer, I think?”
Jihoon nods.
“I finished an album at the beginning of the year,” she says. “It did well.”
The beginning of the year — no wonder Minghao doesn’t remember hearing Soonyoung talk about it.
“Congratulations,” she says, smiling. The smell of grilling meat rises between them, more mouthwatering than she expected. She really is hungry. “What are you working on now?”
Jihoon’s face tightens.
“Nothing.”
“Ah,” Minghao nods, her mouth pursing in sympathy. Jihoon’s posture has gone tense across from her — clearly a sore spot. Minghao chooses her next words carefully. “I guess it goes like that sometimes.”
Jihoon’s expression loosens at her words, head tilting to the side like that isn’t what she expected from her. Minghao’s chest warms, filled with something like pride at the idea that she managed to surprise her.
“It does,” Jihoon agrees, reaching for the tongs again so she can start to flip the meat. “People usually ask what I’m doing about it,” she adds as she works, eyes focused intently on the grill — more intently than the task probably deserves, so she won’t have to look at Minghao as she speaks. “Like — everything, obviously. I’m doing everything.”
She looks up sharply after that last sentence, startled, like maybe she didn’t meant to say it at all. Minghao only nods in understanding. When she speaks her voice comes out soft, barely audible above the sounds of the restaurant.
“Sometimes doing everything makes it worse.”
Jihoon holds her gaze for real, then, and the expression on her face is hard to read. With her eyes open wide like this she looks much younger. Round cheeks and clear, pale skin.
After a long silence she nods her head in agreement, a firm quick motion. A wry smile finds its way onto her mouth.
“Cheers to that,” she agrees, reaching for an abandoned half-empty bottle of soju and two glasses. She pours with brisk efficiency, holding out a glass for Minghao when she’s finished. Minghao smiles and accepts, letting Jihoon clink their glasses together before they both tilt their heads back to swallow.
Minghao makes a face as it goes down, grimacing at the burn. She hates soju. Across from her Junhui’s trying to get her attention again, eyes caught on the glass in front of her. Minghao catches his eyes and shakes her head, annoyed.
I’m fine, she mouths at him.
When Jihoon offers another shot Minghao waves her off, and Minghao can’t help noticing Jihoon doesn’t pour for herself, either. They both sip at their water, too far from the rest of the table to join into their conversations and, honestly, uninterested in doing so.
“I need some air,” Jihoon says abruptly, nudging Junhui next to her to hand him the tongs, gesturing towards the last piece of meat on the grill. She looks back up at Minghao, eyes wide and clear. “Do you wanna come with?”
Minghao nods, relieved, and gets up to follow Jihoon towards the door.
She figured ‘needing some air’ was the universal sign for needing a smoke break, but when they get outside Jihoon waves her off when she offers, squatting down on the curb with her elbows on her thighs, chin propped up on her wrist. Apparently she really did just want to get some air.
Minghao stays standing as she finishes her cigarette, careful to blow the smoke away from Jihoon, the silence between them heavy but not unpleasant. When she’s finished she squats down to sit next to her instead of making to go back inside.
“I know Soonyoung was disappointed,” Minghao says, stretching her legs out in front of her. She wants to light another cigarette, but she doesn’t think Jihoon would like it. “When I quit the team. He probably told you about it, right?”
“He wasn’t,” Jihoon says, surer than Minghao expected — it startles her. She wouldn't have thought Jihoon would care. She stares at her in a silent question. “He was worried about you, that’s all,” Jihoon mutters, flushing pink as though embarrassed by his own sincerity.
“Oh,” Minghao says, her own ears burning a little as heavy seriousness stifles the mood between them. “Um. Thanks.”
“Yeah,” Jihoon says. She shrugs like it’s nothing, but the back of her neck is still bright pink, and she isn’t meeting Minghao’s eyes. “He cares a lot about you.”
“I know that,” Minghao says, trying not to sound sullen. She doesn’t want Jihoon to misunderstand. “I know he does, I just — ”
Jihoon looks up when she doesn’t continue, her plain face steady and true.
“I just had to,” she finishes quietly. Jihoon doesn’t seem to have anything to say to that, but she doesn’t ask her any questions either. She only nods, like what Minghao could give her was explanation enough.
“Soonyoung’s the one who needs to hear that, not me.”
Minghao sighs, her mouth flattening into a thin line.
“I know.”
Jihoon nods again before she breathes out an uncomfortable little laugh.
“I know you know,” she says, still sounding awkward. “Sorry. I shouldn’t butt in.”
“You didn’t.” The reassurance spills out of Minghao so easily. “I brought it up.”
“Right,” Jihoon agrees, but she sounds a little uneasy. She really is cute, Minghao thinks. Maybe if things were different, if she wasn’t Soonyoung’s friend —
Minghao cuts herself off, doesn't let herself finish the thought. It’s useless to think about it. Jihoon is Soonyoung’s friend, and so is Minghao. Soonyoung cares about both of them
iii.
“We should talk.”
Minghao catches Soonyoung after work, looking out of place in her perfectly pressed beige skirt as she loiters outside the door of the studio. He remembers when she used to dress like him, sweatpants and tank tops making up the majority of her wardrobe. He opens his mouth to chastise her for coming alone, but recovers his wits quickly enough to recognize that for the bad idea it is, offering her an awkward smile instead.
Judging by the way Minghao's mouth twists, she knows exactly what he was going to say.
“Sorry,” Soonyoung apologizes, right before he remembers that'll piss her off, too.
“Stop saying sorry,” she says absently, but she clearly isn't fully focused on him. Soonyoung watches out of the corner of his eye as she sucks her bottom lip into her mouth, thinking.
“Do you want to get a drink?” he asks, before she can figure out what she’s going to say. Minghao’s eyes jerk up to meet his, surprised, and Soonyoung offers her a friendly smile. “Just between friends,” he says. “Come on. It’s been so long.”
Minghao nods, slowly at first and then more confident, her shoulders straightening as she decides for real.
“Between friends.”
pairing: ??? soonyoung & minghao & jihoon
word count: 3200 words
rating: teen
warnings: genderswap
i.
Soonyoung's been weirdly serious all day: eyeing Jihoon when he thinks Jihoon isn't looking, then jerking his gaze away as soon as she looks up. Fidgeting way more than usual, his knee bouncing practically uncontrollably as it thuds against the desk in an irritating rhythm.
“Quit it,” Jihoon mutters, not looking away from her computer screen. Soonyoung freezes, his whole body going tense. Jihoon stifles the impulse to look over at him.
An uncomfortable silence falls between them, choking the air out of the room despite Jihoon's best efforts to ignore it. She sighs, finally, and gives in.
“Is something wrong?”
“What?”
When she finally looks over Soonyoung's eyes are wide, looking genuinely shocked at being caught out. Like he hasn't been acting like a freak for the past hour and a half. Jihoon sighs again.
“You're acting weird,” she says flatly, nodding her head towards Soonyoung's restless knee, which started up again almost as soon as Jihoon opened her mouth.
Soonyoung's mouth twists, uncharacteristically hesitant, and that's when Jihoon actually starts to worry for real.
“Did something happen?”
Soonyoung doesn't deny it right away, but when Jihoon's eyes widen he shakes his head, catching up.
“Not like that!” he says, waving his hands in front of me. “Not to me.”
Jihoon narrows her eyes.
“Then to who?”
Soonyoung chews at his bottom lip rather than responding, obviously torn. Jihoon's sympathetic; it's not like she wants to dig into someone else's personal business, either. Hell, she doesn't even want to dig into Soonyoung's.
She does want to get her work done, though, and she can't do that if Soonyoung's acting like a freak. So.
“Who?” she asks again, not giving up. Soonyoung makes a face, glancing at his own screen and then back to Jihoon.
“You're seeing a therapist, right?”
Jihoon's mouth drops open. Horrifyingly, she feels her cheeks flush, even though she knows there isn't anything to be embarrassed about.
Really. She does know.
It just feels weird to hear Soonyoung say it so directly, when they've never actually spoken about it out loud before.
“Um,” she says intelligently. “Yeah, I'm. Yeah. I am.”
“Do you think you could send me their number?”
The dread in Jihoon's stomach has started to spread, a weird tingling feeling in her fingers she doesn't know what to do with.
“Sure,” she says, fumbling for her phone.
“Nothing happened to me,” Soonyoung repeats uselessly.
“I believe you,” Jihoon answers, eyes on her phone screen. It's not a lie; she really does. Soonyoung can't lie for shit. She just doesn’t believe that he’s telling the whole truth, either. “Who is it, then?” she asks again, pressing a little, more because she thinks Soonyoung needs to say it than because she actually wants to hear it.
Soonyoung's mouth pinches together. It's a weird look on him. Foreign. His knee isn't bouncing anymore, but that's only because he's physically holding it still, fingers in a tight grip on his own thigh.
“Soonyoung?”
“It's just something that happened,” he mutters. Jihoon stares at him, weirdly hurt that she doesn't know what he's talking about.
“But not to you?”
The words come out awkward, too stiff. Jihoon doesn't know how to do this. She thought she knew everything that had ever happened to Soonyoung.
“No, but,” Soonyoung starts, not meeting her eyes. “I feel like it was my fault.”
“Was it?”
Soonyoung's face goes white and Jihoon wishes, fervently, that there was someone in the room who was actually good at this.
“I don't know,” Soonyoung breathes out, finally, on a humourless laugh. “I guess that's what I want to ask a therapist.”
“You could ask me,” Jihoon says uncertainly, because Soonyoung's her best friend and it feels like she should.
Soonyoung looks weirdly vulnerable; his shoulders hunched, an unsure expression on his face Jihoon doesn't really recognize. She feels unsure, herself. Unsure of what this means, what it says about them. Unsure of where they stand, if Soonyoung's been hiding things from her. She didn't think he knew how to do that.
“I can't,” Soonyoung says, and it digs in, sharp. Jihoon looks away, hurt, fighting very hard to keep her body still, resisting the urge to chew at her bottom lip. Soonyoung will know, if she does that. Soonyoung knows all her tells.
“Jihoon-ah,” Soonyoung says, voice pleading, scooting his chair closer to her. Jihoon swallows hard; doesn't look at him. “Jihoon. Are you upset?”
“No,” Jihoon forces out, hating the emotion in her voice. She isn't upset. She isn't. Soonyoung's a grown man; he can do what he wants. He doesn't have to tell her anything he doesn't want to. Jihoon doesn't want him to, usually, it's that usually it doesn't matter, because he does it anyway.
“It's just because it wasn't me,” Soonyoung says. “If it happened to me I would tell you, I promise.”
He kind of sounds like someone's boyfriend, apologizing for something he'll definitely do again. But it’s Soonyoung, and he always means it, and he isn't Jihoon's boyfriend. He isn’t Jihoon’s boyfriend and he didn't do anything wrong, and Jihoon’s annoyed at both of them, suddenly, for letting the conversation end up like this.
“Don't worry about it,” she says, looking directly at him as she straightens in her seat. It was stupid of her to offer, anyway. Why would anyone want to ask her anything? She never knows what to say.
“Okay,” Soonyoung agrees, but he doesn't seem convinced. He still looks troubled as he settles back into his seat, tearing his gaze away slowly to refocus on the screen in front of him.
Jihoon tries to think about something else, anything else. The composition she’s been working on, due in less than twenty-four hours. The other composition she’s working on, the one for Soonyoung’s dance team. He’s been freaking out about it ever since Minghao quit suddenly, apparently the formations are all wrong, but there’s no one he can get to sub in. He’s been trying to convince Jihoon to do it for the past week, as though Jihoon being nearly a full foot shorter than Minghao won’t ruin the formations even more.
“Let's order Chinese for dinner,” she says, pushing all those thoughts aside. She’s technically on a diet but Soonyoung hates it, is always complaining that Jihoon never eats anything but plain chicken breast. This feels like a compromise, even if Jihoon isn't really sure what, exactly, she's trying to compromise on.
“Sure,” Soonyoung agrees, smiling at her with ill-disguised relief. “Chinese sounds great.”
ii.
Minghao’s late to Soonyoung’s birthday dinner.
It isn’t on purpose, obviously, but it makes her anxious that he’ll think it is. Showing up for someone is showing you care, after all. Soonyoung’s come to all of Minghao’s birthday dinners — all her work events, too, ever since she got the job at the gallery. He always has, and he’s almost never late. Chan’s influence more than anything, probably, but the point still stands.
Minghao’s usually never late either.
She hates it, and she hates being anything less than put together, and she hates both of those things even more when they’re witnessed by other people, so showing up halfway through the meal red-faced and flustered feels like personal failure. She’s scowling almost as soon as she reaches the booth, set off immediately by the teasing look on Junhui’s face.
It’s not about you, she reminds herself, taking a breath and smoothing out her expression into something gentler. It’s supposed to be Soonyoung’s day, after all. It’s not about how Minghao feels.
“Happy birthday!” she says, coming around the table so she can lean over him for a hug.
Soonyoung lets out a pleased sound as he reaches up to grab Minghao’s arms, nuzzling jokingly into the crook of her elbow.
“Xu Minghao!” he crows happily, a big grin on his face when he finally turns up to look at her. “You made it!”
“Of course I made it,” she responds, her own voice much softer. “It’s you.”
It’s Soonyoung’s night so he’s in the middle, and the seats around him are all filled up. Minghao drops one last kiss on the top of his head and moves towards the edge of the table, taking a seat next to Chan and diagonal from Junhui, across from someone she doesn’t know. It feels weird that there are people in Soonyoung’s life she doesn’t know, now. Sadness settles in her stomach, threatening to curdle.
“I’m Minghao,” she says as she sits, pushing away urge to sulk with a neat smile.
The woman on the other side of the table is smaller than Minghao but broader, hair cut neat and short, cheeks flushed pink from the heat of the grill.
“Lee Jihoon,” she says, her own smile a little uncomfortable around the edges.
Minghao pauses, then, startled. She does know her. Of course she does.
“Oh,” she says, blinking. “I’m sorry — we never actually met. You wrote our song for us, right? For Soonyoung’s junior showcase.”
It feels like so long ago, now. Years and years. Minghao quit before she got to do Soonyoung’s senior showcase; she’s pretty sure Jihoon helped with that one, too.
“I did, yeah,” Jihoon says, nodding. Her cheeks have gone a little pink. “I’d almost forgotten.”
“It was really good,” Minghao says, the memory of it coming back in a rush. They’d had so much fun preparing for it, pulling back-to-back all-nighters with a recklessness Minghao knows she could never hope to recreate now. “I never got to thank you for it properly.”
“Ah,” Jihoon says, waving a hand. “Please don’t.”
Minghao tilts her head at that, bemused, but nods her assent anyway. Jihoon’s still smiling but her cheeks are really red, now, like she’s genuinely embarrassed.
It’s cute, especially contrasted with her flat voice.
“It’s nice to finally meet you, anyway,” Minghao says, trying to steer them somewhere that’ll make Jihoon less uncomfortable. “I know Soonyoung admires you so much.”
“Ah, Soonyoung,” Jihoon laughs, rolling her eyes — fondly, Minghao thinks. “You know how he is. He always — talks.”
“He does do that,” Minghao laughs in agreement. She spares a glance towards where Soonyoung’s seated at the middle of the table. His face is bright red already, gesticulating wildly as he speaks. Jihoon follows her gaze and snorts.
“He’ll feel this tomorrow,” she says — more observation than judgment, a plainspoken statement of fact.
“Probably,” Minghao agrees. “But it is his birthday.”
Before she can dig for something else to carry on the conversation Junhui catches her eye from where he’s sitting next to Jihoon, raising a questioning eyebrow. You okay? Minghao’s too good at controlling her expression to roll her eyes but she does widen them meaningfully, jerking her chin towards the conversation near the middle the table that had been holding his attention before. Junhui makes a little grimace in response, and Minghao’s cheeks flush in embarrassed irritation.
She’s not quite subtle enough to keep the exchange from Jihoon, whose eyes dart between Minghao and Junhui, hesitance in the set of her shoulders and a question in the tilt of her head.
“Is there something missing?” she asks, misinterpreting, craning her head to get a better look at the other end of the table. “I think that side’s still got — ”
“It’s fine,” Minghao says, as much to Junhui as to Jihoon. She widens her eyes one more time, this time making a shooing motion until he gives in and turns back towards the others. “Sorry,” she says, focusing back on Jihoon. “He’s just — ”
She falters as she tries to come up for a word for what, exactly, Junhui is. The corner of Jihoon’s mouth turns up in a smile.
“I see,” she says, but it’s impossible to tell from her tone whether she really does or not. “Well. I’m still hungry, so — ”
She twists in her seat as she speaks, cutting herself off to call for the waitress instead, the movement smooth and easy. It makes Minghao feel even more out of place, with her neat business clothes and rigid posture. Jihoon’s only in a plain t-shirt, and she seems perfectly comfortable.
“You’re going to eat, right?” she asks when the meat shows up, already reaching for the tongs. She pauses a little, hovering, until Minghao straightens in her seat and nods.
She’s not really one for barbecue — too greasy, usually, and she doesn’t like how much everyone drinks. But it’s Soonyoung’s birthday and even if it wasn’t, it’s nearly 9 P.M, and Minghao hasn’t eaten since lunch.
“This is okay?” Jihoon checks one more time as she starts to arrange the meat on the grill. Minghao nods — she doesn’t really care. She’s not a big eater.
“Thanks,” Minghao hurries to add belatedly, but Jihoon only shrugs, eyes still on the grill.
“So, um,” Minghao starts, once Jihoon’s relaxed a little, sat back in her seat as she waits for the meat to cook. “What are you doing these days? Soonyoung said you’re working as a producer, I think?”
Jihoon nods.
“I finished an album at the beginning of the year,” she says. “It did well.”
The beginning of the year — no wonder Minghao doesn’t remember hearing Soonyoung talk about it.
“Congratulations,” she says, smiling. The smell of grilling meat rises between them, more mouthwatering than she expected. She really is hungry. “What are you working on now?”
Jihoon’s face tightens.
“Nothing.”
“Ah,” Minghao nods, her mouth pursing in sympathy. Jihoon’s posture has gone tense across from her — clearly a sore spot. Minghao chooses her next words carefully. “I guess it goes like that sometimes.”
Jihoon’s expression loosens at her words, head tilting to the side like that isn’t what she expected from her. Minghao’s chest warms, filled with something like pride at the idea that she managed to surprise her.
“It does,” Jihoon agrees, reaching for the tongs again so she can start to flip the meat. “People usually ask what I’m doing about it,” she adds as she works, eyes focused intently on the grill — more intently than the task probably deserves, so she won’t have to look at Minghao as she speaks. “Like — everything, obviously. I’m doing everything.”
She looks up sharply after that last sentence, startled, like maybe she didn’t meant to say it at all. Minghao only nods in understanding. When she speaks her voice comes out soft, barely audible above the sounds of the restaurant.
“Sometimes doing everything makes it worse.”
Jihoon holds her gaze for real, then, and the expression on her face is hard to read. With her eyes open wide like this she looks much younger. Round cheeks and clear, pale skin.
After a long silence she nods her head in agreement, a firm quick motion. A wry smile finds its way onto her mouth.
“Cheers to that,” she agrees, reaching for an abandoned half-empty bottle of soju and two glasses. She pours with brisk efficiency, holding out a glass for Minghao when she’s finished. Minghao smiles and accepts, letting Jihoon clink their glasses together before they both tilt their heads back to swallow.
Minghao makes a face as it goes down, grimacing at the burn. She hates soju. Across from her Junhui’s trying to get her attention again, eyes caught on the glass in front of her. Minghao catches his eyes and shakes her head, annoyed.
I’m fine, she mouths at him.
When Jihoon offers another shot Minghao waves her off, and Minghao can’t help noticing Jihoon doesn’t pour for herself, either. They both sip at their water, too far from the rest of the table to join into their conversations and, honestly, uninterested in doing so.
“I need some air,” Jihoon says abruptly, nudging Junhui next to her to hand him the tongs, gesturing towards the last piece of meat on the grill. She looks back up at Minghao, eyes wide and clear. “Do you wanna come with?”
Minghao nods, relieved, and gets up to follow Jihoon towards the door.
She figured ‘needing some air’ was the universal sign for needing a smoke break, but when they get outside Jihoon waves her off when she offers, squatting down on the curb with her elbows on her thighs, chin propped up on her wrist. Apparently she really did just want to get some air.
Minghao stays standing as she finishes her cigarette, careful to blow the smoke away from Jihoon, the silence between them heavy but not unpleasant. When she’s finished she squats down to sit next to her instead of making to go back inside.
“I know Soonyoung was disappointed,” Minghao says, stretching her legs out in front of her. She wants to light another cigarette, but she doesn’t think Jihoon would like it. “When I quit the team. He probably told you about it, right?”
“He wasn’t,” Jihoon says, surer than Minghao expected — it startles her. She wouldn't have thought Jihoon would care. She stares at her in a silent question. “He was worried about you, that’s all,” Jihoon mutters, flushing pink as though embarrassed by his own sincerity.
“Oh,” Minghao says, her own ears burning a little as heavy seriousness stifles the mood between them. “Um. Thanks.”
“Yeah,” Jihoon says. She shrugs like it’s nothing, but the back of her neck is still bright pink, and she isn’t meeting Minghao’s eyes. “He cares a lot about you.”
“I know that,” Minghao says, trying not to sound sullen. She doesn’t want Jihoon to misunderstand. “I know he does, I just — ”
Jihoon looks up when she doesn’t continue, her plain face steady and true.
“I just had to,” she finishes quietly. Jihoon doesn’t seem to have anything to say to that, but she doesn’t ask her any questions either. She only nods, like what Minghao could give her was explanation enough.
“Soonyoung’s the one who needs to hear that, not me.”
Minghao sighs, her mouth flattening into a thin line.
“I know.”
Jihoon nods again before she breathes out an uncomfortable little laugh.
“I know you know,” she says, still sounding awkward. “Sorry. I shouldn’t butt in.”
“You didn’t.” The reassurance spills out of Minghao so easily. “I brought it up.”
“Right,” Jihoon agrees, but she sounds a little uneasy. She really is cute, Minghao thinks. Maybe if things were different, if she wasn’t Soonyoung’s friend —
Minghao cuts herself off, doesn't let herself finish the thought. It’s useless to think about it. Jihoon is Soonyoung’s friend, and so is Minghao. Soonyoung cares about both of them
iii.
“We should talk.”
Minghao catches Soonyoung after work, looking out of place in her perfectly pressed beige skirt as she loiters outside the door of the studio. He remembers when she used to dress like him, sweatpants and tank tops making up the majority of her wardrobe. He opens his mouth to chastise her for coming alone, but recovers his wits quickly enough to recognize that for the bad idea it is, offering her an awkward smile instead.
Judging by the way Minghao's mouth twists, she knows exactly what he was going to say.
“Sorry,” Soonyoung apologizes, right before he remembers that'll piss her off, too.
“Stop saying sorry,” she says absently, but she clearly isn't fully focused on him. Soonyoung watches out of the corner of his eye as she sucks her bottom lip into her mouth, thinking.
“Do you want to get a drink?” he asks, before she can figure out what she’s going to say. Minghao’s eyes jerk up to meet his, surprised, and Soonyoung offers her a friendly smile. “Just between friends,” he says. “Come on. It’s been so long.”
Minghao nods, slowly at first and then more confident, her shoulders straightening as she decides for real.
“Between friends.”
