Chapter Text
It started quietly. Not with fireworks, not with some sudden burst of confession, just a touch. A lingering glance during late-night rehearsals, the way Wonyoung would pass Yujin her water bottle without asking, or how Yujin always saved a seat beside her in every waiting room, every van, every greenroom they shared.
After IZ*ONE disbanded, everything changed except them.
They debuted again, side by side, in a new group under a stricter roof. IVE was a fresh start. But it didn’t feel like a beginning. It felt like survival. New staff. New rules. New eyes on them every second. But in the quiet between schedules, they found each other again and this time, they didn’t let go.
Nobody outside their little circle knew.
Not the company. Not the managers.
Only the other IVE girls.
And the girls from IZ*ONE who’d sworn to keep their secret safe.
The world saw Yujin and Wonyoung as the golden duo, childhood friends turned teammates turned stars. But behind every choreographed smile, there was a history only they knew. Wonyoung’s fingers would brush against Yujin’s during encore stages. Yujin would stay behind after practice just to walk her back to the dorm, even if she had no reason to.
They didn’t need words to define what they were.
The floor is cold, the air still. Yujin lies down, her head resting on Wonyoung’s lap. Wonyoung gently towels her hair dry, fingers slow and careful. Wonyoung’s touch is soft, almost reverent.
Yujin’s eyes are closed, her breathing steady. She looks peaceful, like the kind of tired that feels safe, the kind that only shows up in front of someone who knows you, completely.
Wonyoung watches her in silence. Then quietly, almost like she’s scared the walls might hear.
“Yujin…”
A soft hum in response.
“What if one day… we can’t be like this anymore?”
Yujin opens her eyes. She shifts, turning just enough to look up at Wonyoung’s face. “Why are you thinking like that?”
“I don’t know. Sometimes I get scared. Of the company. The cameras. The fans. The rules. Everything. Us.”
Yujin sits up now, legs folding underneath her as she turns to face Wonyoung properly.
She reaches out, hands cradling Wonyoung’s cheeks like she’s holding something fragile, something important.
“Hey. Look at me.”
Wonyoung does.
“I’m not with you because it’s simple,” Yujin says, voice calm and certain. “I’m with you because I choose you. Every day. No matter how hard it gets.”
Wonyoung’s brows twitch, her throat moving in a small swallow. “Even if the world says no?”
“Even then.”
They sit there, knees touching on the rug. Rain tapping softly against the windows like background music to something sacred.
Then Wonyoung speaks again, almost a whisper. “Promise me something.”
“Anything.”
“Even if I get scared. Even if I mess up. Even if I can’t say the words out loud… don’t stop choosing me.”
There’s no pause. No hesitation. “I promise.”
Yujin’s voice is lower now, steadier, like a vow spoken straight to the stars. “And promise me, too. That no matter how loud the world gets… you’ll never doubt this. Us.”
Wonyoung’s voice trembles just a little. “I promise.”
Their foreheads meet, eyes closed.
And in that stillness, no contracts, no cameras, no witnesses. They seal something deeper than any of those things.
“We don’t need to explain this to anyone,” Yujin whispers. “As long as we keep showing up. For each other.”
And they do.
In sleepy morning texts.
In quiet ramen bowls after dance practice.
In worn hoodies shared between flights.
In every glance, every smile, every night like this.
They weren’t a secret.
They were a promise.
Quiet. Certain. The kind that stays, even when the world doesn’t.
Kang Jiwoon was rising, not fast, not viral, but solid.
From quiet second leads to youth drama standouts, his name was starting to appear in “Next Generation Actor” lists. Charismatic, tall, a little shy in interviews, the kind of male lead fans liked to root for.
So when his agency confirmed his appearance in a variety show special alongside IVE, he didn’t think much of it. A job. A screen time opportunity.
Then he met Jang Wonyoung.
And suddenly, it wasn’t just another gig.
She wasn’t just beautiful, Jiwoon had seen beautiful before. But Wonyoung was magnetic. She moved like she knew the camera was always there, but her laughter between takes was real. Her professionalism was sharp, but her small gesture, like handing him a tissue when he spilled water, or waiting for the staff to finish eating before she did, lingered in his mind.
He didn’t fall instantly.
But he kept thinking about her.
After the show aired, he started finding excuses to see her again.
A coffee truck, sent to their practice building, “To the brightest on stage.”
A shared photoshoot event, where he asked his stylist to give him something “clean but cool” just in case she noticed.
He even asked a mutual staff if she liked reading, hoping to start a conversation the next time they met.
And they did meet again at a brand shoot. Jiwoon waited until the end, approaching casually as she checked her phone.
“Hey, Jang Wonyoung, right? We met during the variety shoot.”
“Ah, yes. Hi!” she smiled, polite. Professional. Her phone never left her hand.
“You were really good that day. It was fun working with you.”
“You too. The fans loved your segment.”
The conversation never took off. Still, Jiwoon didn’t give up.
He tried again, asked if she wanted to grab coffee sometime, maybe just talk about work. Wonyoung smiled, thanked him, and said she was a bit busy these days. “Maybe next time.”
The next time never came.
Over the next few months, he noticed something strange.
Whenever Wonyoung was at an event, Yujin wasn’t far. Not always right beside her but always there. A nod. A glance. An umbrella passed without words.
He caught one particular moment backstage during a music show.
Wonyoung was seated, touching up her makeup. Yujin walked by behind her, didn’t say a word, but Wonyoung leaned back slightly, her hand brushing the edge of Yujin’s jacket like it was a habit. A silent “you’re here.”
Jiwoon started paying more attention.
He saw how Wonyoung’s guard dropped around Yujin. Not completely but enough. She smiled more, talked more freely. Sometimes they left venues together, sometimes they didn’t but there was a rhythm between them that felt too natural to be rehearsed.
He tried not to think too much of it.
Of course groupmates were close especially in a team like IVE, where image and chemistry mattered.
But it wasn’t just chemistry.
It was comfort.
Familiarity.
That kind of closeness people don’t build overnight.
And the more he watched, the harder it was to ignore.
So Jiwoon started asking around, gently. Nothing too obvious.
“Are Wonyoung and Yujin really that close off-cam?”
“They live together, right?”
“Does Yujin usually wait for her after schedules like that?”
Most people gave vague answers, “they’re like sisters,” “they’ve known each other for years,” “that group is really tight.”
But no one ever said no.
No one said “of course not.”
No one laughed it off like it was ridiculous.
The more subtle he asked, the more carefully people replied.
One stylist even gave him a strange look when he mentioned Wonyoung’s name.
“She’s sweet. But… yeah. Don’t overthink anything.”
What was that supposed to mean?
It bothered him.
Not because he felt entitled. Wonyoung hadn’t promised him anything. But he had been trying. Months now. And it felt like she was always keeping a distance he couldn’t close.
Was it really just work?
Or was someone already standing where he wanted to be?
He went back to the coffee truck idea, checked if anyone posted it. Wonyoung hadn’t. Yujin hadn’t.
But a fan account had posted a blurry photo. In the background, Wonyoung was standing next to someone, face turned, laughing and Yujin had her hand resting lightly on Wonyoung’s lower back. Not possessive. Not inappropriate. Just… there.
It wasn’t conclusive. Not really. But it felt like something.
Jiwoon stared at that photo longer than he should’ve.
He clicked open Yujin’s page. Then Wonyoung’s.
No couple photos. No matching items. No hashtags, no hints.
But there were patterns, stories with similar captions, photos taken in the same places, emojis that only made sense in context.
He wasn’t imagining it.
He couldn’t be.
Then came the final sign.
At a joint rehearsal, their teams crossed paths. Jiwoon stood near the monitors, waiting. Wonyoung walked by looking tired, clutching her water bottle.
Yujin approached from behind, gently tugged the cap from Wonyoung’s bottle, took a sip, then returned it. Wonyoung didn’t flinch. Didn’t even look at her.
They didn’t say a word.
And that silence was louder than anything Jiwoon had ever heard.
It was late.
Most of the crew had gone home. The hallway lights flickered in that tired, dim way buildings felt when they were half-asleep.
Jiwoon had just finished packing up when he saw her.
Wonyoung. Standing alone by the emergency stairwell.
She looked… different. Not poised and glowing the way she did under studio lights, but real. Jacket a bit too thin, her long hair tied loosely, water bottle pressed to her chest like an anchor. She was waiting for someone. That much was clear.
Then Yujin arrived.
No greeting. No fanfare. Just a quiet presence.
And Wonyoung’s body relaxed, just slightly enough to be noticed.
They looked at each other.
Then walked toward the door to the stairwell, side by side. Like it was routine. Like it was theirs.
Something inside Jiwoon twisted.
He didn’t know why he followed.
Curiosity, maybe.
Or maybe it was that small, aching hope he hadn’t managed to kill yet.
He moved quietly, footsteps soundless, breath held. The door hadn’t shut all the way, just enough to leave a sliver open. A window into something he wasn’t supposed to see.
And that’s when it happened.
Yujin leaned in.
Wonyoung tilted her head, only slightly.
And their lips met.
Not hurried.
Not stolen.
But soft. Familiar. Certain.
It wasn’t the kind of kiss that ignited something.
It was the kind of kiss that confirmed everything had already been burning.
Jiwoon froze.
His heart didn’t race, it dropped, heavy and cold.
This wasn’t a rumor. This wasn’t chemistry.
This was real.
They were together.
Slowly, mechanically, he raised his phone.
Click.
One photo. Silent. Blurry. But clear enough.
He backed away. Quietly. Carefully. Like he’d stepped on broken glass.
Outside, the night was too quiet. Even the wind didn’t dare say anything.
Jiwoon sat in his car for what felt like hours, phone in hand, that image glowing back at him.
Wonyoung, eyes soft, lips brushing against Yujin’s.
Yujin, calm, steady, hand ghosting over Wonyoung’s waist like it belonged there.
It wasn’t rage, not yet.
It was something worse.
It was realization.
That every smile she’d given him had meant nothing.
That every attempt, every coffee truck, every polite message, every practiced outfit had never even stood a chance.
Because someone else was already standing exactly where he wanted to be.
And worse: she didn’t look like she wanted to move.
He didn’t sleep that night.
The photo stayed on his phone.
Untouched. Unshared.
Just… there.
A reminder.
Of what he saw.
Of what Yujin had taken.
Of what he could never have.
And slowly, like frost creeping in through a crack in the window, the feeling took root.
He had to break her.
Yujin.
The obstacle. The thief.
If he couldn’t have Wonyoung then Yujin couldn’t either.
Not anymore.
Not after this.