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Megan makes everything feel easy.
When Yoonchae stumbles over a phrase during an interview, Megan jumps in with a joke that turns the awkward moment into something charming. When the other girls plan outings and speak too fast for Yoonchae to follow, Megan repeats everything slowly without making it obvious.
Everyone knew, including the fans and management, that Yoonchae talks to Megan more than anyone else in the group. Megan is Yoonchae's comfort person.
Yesterday, Megan posted a picture on Instagram. Yoonchae had taken it, actually. She'd spent fifteen minutes helping Megan choose between three nearly identical photos, debating which angle made her eyes look brighter, which lighting flattered her smile more. Megan had laughed at how seriously Yoonchae took the task. "You're such a good friend," she'd said. The world stabbed her heart. She ignored it.
They hold hands sometimes. Between stages, during long car rides, and when they're tired after practice. Megan reaches for her without thinking, fingers interlacing as if they had a mind of their own. They also cuddle on almost every couch they find themselves in, Megan's head on Yoonchae's shoulder or Yoonchae curled into Megan's side. The other girls do this too. Lara and Manon, Sophia and Daniela. Physical affection is normal among friends. Yoonchae knows this. However, when Megan touches her, it always makes Yoonchae's heart skip a beat.
Last week during a livestream, a fan asked Megan about dating. In all of Megan fashion, her face brightened. "I'm so single," she said, laughing. "Like, I need someone to have a crush on. It's been too long."
Yoonchae's thumb hovered uselessly over her screen. Her heart couldn't stop her from seeking out this pain, and so she read through the comments and suggestions fans had for display and her brain couldn't help but think of the following:
‘Meifiz is real trust’? Okay? They act like sisters.
‘MEGARA!!!’ They're just roommates.
‘Meizini <3’ Snore. Daniela has Sophia. Well, not really, but Yoonchae digresses.
‘M&M’ Cute. Platonically. It should stay that way.
‘JONAH X MEGAN PLZ!!’ Gross. Yoonchae doesn't even like him. He's so goofy.
‘i 🖤 meichae’ Taste.
It doesn't really matter at the end of the day because Megan's single and it doesn't seem like she plans to date any one of them anytime soon. Anytime ever, actually.
Megan kept talking about wanting romance, about missing the feeling of butterflies. Yoonchae closed WeVerse before the livestream ended.
The logical part of Yoonchae's brain understands this. Megan is single. Megan wants to date. These are facts. They exist independently of Yoonchae. Nevertheless, understanding doesn't stop the bile that wants to expel itself from Yoonchae's body when Megan scrolls through her Instagram DMs, giggling at messages from fans and strangers. It most certainly doesn't stop Yoonchae from watching too closely when Megan talks to their designer, a girl with kind eyes who makes Megan throw her head back in laughter.
Jealousy is a word Yoonchae knows well in Korean. She's less certain about its boundaries in English, about whether what she feels qualifies. She shouldn't care if Megan has other friends. She shouldn't feel small when Megan mentions grabbing coffee with someone from their management team. Best friends support each other's social lives. Best friends are happy when their favorite person finds joy in others.
Yoonchae is clearly not happy. Yoonchae is something else entirely.
She was alone in her room, scrolling through photos on her phone. There was Megan at the beach, her hair wild in the wind. Beautiful. Megan loved the beach. There was Megan laughing at something Yoonchae had said. There was Megan looking at her during a rehearsal, eyes full of warmth that the camera caught perfectly. Huh. Yoonchae didn't know what came over her, because suddenly she was crying. She didn't understand this feeling. She still doesn't.
Daniela has Jonah David now. He's handsome, talented, everything that makes sense for someone like Daniela. They post pictures together, his arm around her waist, her smile radiant. Lara has Orlando. They met at some industry event. He seems nice and Lara seems happy. This is what happens. People meet other people. They fall in love. They also move forward.
Megan will meet someone eventually. Perhaps a producer with kind hands and a good sense of humor. Perhaps someone from her hometown who understands her in ways the other girls can't. Perhaps a fan who slides into her DMs with the right words at the right time.
Each version ends the same way: Megan pulls away, and the texts become less frequent. The hand-holding stops. Someone else becomes Megan's person. Yoonchae becomes just another member of the group.
Megan will stop thinking of Yoonchae when she sees seashells and will instead associate them with beach dates held with someone else.
The thought should upset her because she's losing a best friend. That's the reasonable explanation. That's what makes sense. Surely that's why her chest feels hollow when she imagines Megan in love with someone else. In reality, Yoonchae suspects the truth is different.
Does she like girls? The question feels like it covers things too broadly.
Yoonchae likes people. She likes music and dance and the way rain sounds on windows. She likes her family and her members and the small moments that make life worthwhile. Girls specifically never seemed relevant. Boys never seemed relevant either. Romance existed in movies and songs, always about someone else.
However, now Megan exists. Megan with her easy laughter and her gentle hands and her way of looking at Yoonchae during performances, proud and adoring, captured in fan cams that Yoonchae watches late at night.
The problem is that Yoonchae can't ask anyone about this. She can't text Sophia and say, "Do you feel weird when Manon holds your hand?" She can't pull Lara aside and ask, "Does it hurt when you imagine your best friend dating someone else?" These questions reveal too much.
Today during practice, Megan kept glancing at her in the mirror. Their eyes met three times. Each time, Megan smiled. After rehearsal, Megan asked if Yoonchae wanted to get dinner together. Just the two of them, Megan had offered enthusiastically. Yoonchae said yes because she always says yes to Megan.
Megan talked about the comeback, about choreography changes, about a weird dream she had last night. Yoonchae listened and nodded and laughed at the right moments. As she was watching every movement Megan performed, grand or small, she memorized details she already knew by heart. Under the table, Megan's foot bumped against hers. Neither of them moved away because they've done this thousands of times already.
"You're quiet today," Megan said eventually. Her brow furrowed slightly, concern softening her features. "Everything okay?"
The pause before speaking felt longer than usual. Megan waited anyway.
“...I'm very tired. We have so many… coming? Upcoming? Events so early in the year.”
"You work too hard," Megan said. She reached across the table, fingers brushing Yoonchae's wrist. The touch was casual but it held more meaning in Yoonchae's delusional mind. "You should rest more."
Yoonchae nodded. Rest won't fix this. Rest won't prepare her for the inevitable moment when Megan finds someone else to love. Nevertheless, Yoonchae nods because that's easier than the truth.
They walked home together afterward and Megan slipped her hand into Yoonchae's without asking. Their fingers interlocked. This is normal, Yoonchae reminded herself. Friends do this. Best friends do this. However, best friends probably don't feel their pulse quicken at the contact. Best friends probably don't spend nights crying over something they don't even understand fully.
"I'm glad I have you," Megan said suddenly. She squeezed Yoonchae's hand. "You're my favorite."
The words should comfort her. They don't. ‘Favorite friend’ still has that boundary, that wall between what Yoonchae feels and what she's allowed to feel. She squeezed back anyway. "You too," she said, and although true, it felt like she was omitting details.
Megan waits for her constantly. After dance practice when Yoonchae stays late to perfect a sequence she can't quite nail, Megan sits on the floor scrolling through her phone instead of leaving with the others. "Take your time," she always says. Megan never complains about the wait; never checks her watch or sighs with impatience.
Last Tuesday, Yoonchae lost track of time for forty minutes. When she finally stopped, Megan was asleep against the mirror, head tilted at an uncomfortable angle. Yoonchae had stared at her for too long before waking her gently.
As Yoonchae gazes upon Megan's sleeping form, she thinks: Megan is beautiful and kind. Anyone she loved would be the luckiest person on Earth.
During interviews, Megan positions herself so she can see Yoonchae's face. When Yoonchae hesitates before answering a question in English, Megan's eyes track her carefully. The moment stretches. Yoonchae searches for the right phrasing. Megan doesn't interrupt. She simply nods encouragingly until Yoonchae finds her words. Afterward, Megan always leans over and whispers, "You did great." The praise shouldn't mean as much as it does.
"Are you okay?" Megan asks her at least three times a day. During breakfast when Yoonchae is quiet. During car rides when Yoonchae stares out the window. During the five-minute break between recording sessions when Yoonchae sits alone on the couch. The question has become a refrain, a constant reminder that Megan notices everything. Yoonchae wishes she didn't. Yoonchae is grateful that she does. The contradiction exhausts her.
She's not okay. She's the furthest thing from okay. Anyway, she keeps saying yes because the truth is too complicated to translate into words Megan would understand.
The comments have become more direct once she turned 18. Fans call Yoonchae hot, sexy, and gorgeous, perhaps even divine. Fan accounts dedicate themselves entirely to her. The numbers are impressive. The attention is overwhelming. None of it matters.
What matters is the way Megan looks at her, or more accurately, the way Megan doesn't look at her. Megan compliments her constantly. "You look so good," she says before they go on stage. "Your outfit is perfect," she says during photo shoots. The words are supportive, friendly, exactly what a best friend should say. They lack the weight Yoonchae craves. Megan's eyes don't linger. Megan's voice doesn't go up an octave when she's talking to Yoonchae. Megan treats her beauty as a fact rather than something that affects her personally.
Back in November during a livestream, someone asked Megan what her favorite thing about Yoonchae was. Megan had grinned. "Honestly, I love that she's been getting more cunty lately."
Cunty. The word isn't wrong per se. She's been more confident on stage, more daring with her expressions, more willing to own her presence. But like, that's her favorite thing? Not Yoonchae's kindness or her dedication or the way she tries so hard despite the language barrier? Not even her face or her body, things that apparently the entire internet finds worth discussing? Just that she's become more cunty?
Is that all, Megan?
The thought circles Yoonchae's mind during practice. She watches herself in the mirror and wonders what Megan sees. She knows she's attractive and the evidence is abundant and public. Fans write paragraphs about her visuals, some even putting her on the same level as Manon (visual line). Other idols compliment her during award shows. That is not to say that Yoonchae is overconfident though. It's just that the validation exists everywhere except the one place she actually wants it.
If Megan doesn't find her attractive, does any of it matter? If Megan can scroll through hundreds of comments calling Yoonchae beautiful without ever thinking those thoughts herself, what's the point? The whole world could worship at Yoonchae's feet and it wouldn't mean anything if Megan remains unaffected.
Yoonchae was reading comments on a fan-edited video of herself, watching strangers debate her best features, when it hit her that she didn't care about their opinions. She wanted one person's opinion. She wanted Megan to look at her the way fans look at her. She wanted Megan's breath to catch. She wanted proof that her existence could affect Megan in ways that transcended friendship.
The insecurity burrows deep. With this, Yoonchae finds herself checking her reflection more often, adjusting her hair before she sees Megan, choosing outfits with more care than necessary.
Yoonchae feels like a wound that won't close. To her dismay, she is completely aware how pathetic this whole ordeal was.
Yoonchae shook her head. What then if someone asked her about this? She couldn't explain that she was spiraling over something as stupid as whether her best friend finds her hot. She couldn't admit that every bit of confidence she's built feels meaningless without Megan's desire. She couldn't say that she's started to hate the word cunty because it represents everything Megan notices while apparently missing everything else.
That night, Megan texted her at midnight. "Can't sleep. Want to watch a movie?" On Megan's bed they curled up with a laptop between them. Megan picked a romantic comedy. The main characters were obviously in love before they realized it themselves. One would know how this usually went: annoying side glances and accidentally touching. Very predictable once you watch too many rom-coms.
"This is so unrealistic," Megan said during a scene where the leads finally kissed. "Like, you'd know if your best friend had feelings for you."
Yoonchae almost choked on her own spit. She kept her eyes on the screen. "Maybe," she said. "...Sometimes people hide things."
"I guess," Megan said. She shifted closer, her shoulder pressing against Yoonchae's. "But I feel like I'd notice. You know?"
Yoonchae said nothing. The characters eventually, thankfully, confessed their love. The music swelled and Megan sighed contentedly as the movie continued on. "I want that," she said. "I want someone to look at me like that."
Someone is looking at you like that, Yoonchae thought. She's been looking at you like that for months. Nevertheless, apparently cunty confidence is all Megan can see. Apparently everything else is invisible.
"You okay?" Megan asked, tilting her head to study Yoonchae's face. Her brow creased slightly. Her lips parted in concern. "You've been quiet lately."
Always this question. Always this gentle attention that means everything and nothing simultaneously. Yoonchae manufactured a smile. "Fine," she said. "Just thinking."
"About what?"
About you.
"Nothing important," Yoonchae said instead.
Megan looked at her for a long moment. Her eyes were soft, searching. Then she smiled and turned back to the movie. She rested her head on Yoonchae's shoulder. The warmth and tenderness of it all was torture. Yoonchae sat very still and tried to memorize the feeling while simultaneously wishing it meant something different.
The movie ended and Megan cutely yawned. "Thanks for staying," she said. She hugged Yoonchae before she left, arms tight around her waist. Yoonchae hugged back and felt her heart break a little more. She walked down the hallway to her own room and wondered how long she could sustain this absolute certainty that eventually, Megan would find someone who made her feel what Yoonchae already feels.
In her room, Yoonchae looked at herself in the mirror. The girl staring back was supposedly hot, desirable, worthy of thousands of admiring comments. The girl staring back felt small and desperate and utterly invisible where it counted most.
One morning, Megan asked if Yoonchae wanted to come to this party hosted by Emily. As much as Yoonchae wanted to spend time with her, Yoonchae admits that it's not her environment and would rather stay in. Megan looked disappointed for like three seconds before Lara said she'd go. Then Megan brightened again, already planning outfits with Sophia, already moving forward without her.
Yoonchae was still awake at two in the morning when she heard the front door open. Voices drifted down the hallway, Lara's hushed laughter and Megan's louder giggles. Footsteps. A door closing. Silence. Yoonchae should have stayed in bed. She got up anyway.
Megan's door was slightly ajar. Light spilled through the crack. Yoonchae knocked softly. "Megan?"
"Yoonchippy!" Megan's voice was bright, unsteady. "Come in!"
Yoonchae pushed the door open. Megan was sitting on her bed, attempting to take off her heels. She looked up with a wide smile.
Yoonchae observed the following about Megan immediately:
Her eyes were glassy.
Her cheeks were pink.
Her hair fell messily around her shoulders.
She smelled like alcohol.
And last but not the least:
Megan had left wearing a deep red shade earlier. Now it was smudged at the corners, faded in the center, like someone had kissed it away.
"You're awake," Megan said. She abandoned her struggle with her shoes and patted the bed beside her. "Sit with me."
Yoonchae's feet carried her forward even though her brain screamed to leave. She sat on the edge of the mattress, maintaining distance. Megan immediately closed that gap, leaning heavily against Yoonchae's side. The alcohol smell intensified. Yoonchae's stomach turned.
"Did you have fun?" Yoonchae whispered in question.
"So much fun," Megan said. She tilted her head back, closing her eyes. A smile played on her smudged lips. "There were so many people. Everyone was so nice. This one girl, she was so pretty. Like, really pretty."
A metaphorical knife stabbed Yoonchae's throat. She swallowed around it. "Yeah?"
"Mmm." Megan's eyes remained closed. "She kept buying me drinks. We danced a lot. She was a really good dancer. Like meeeee!"
Yoonchae's hands clenched in her lap. She stared at the smudged lipstick and tried not to imagine how it got that way. She tried not to picture Megan dancing with some pretty girl, bodies close, intentions clear. She tried not to think about whether Megan had wanted it, had enjoyed it, had finally found someone to give her those butterflies she kept talking about.
"That's nice," Yoonchae said. A lie.
Megan opened her eyes. She turned to look at Yoonchae, her gaze unfocused but searching. "Are you mad at me?"
"No." Another lie.
"You sound mad." Megan's brow furrowed. She reached out and touched Yoonchae's face, fingers clumsy and warm. "Don't be mad at me, Yoonchippy. You upset makes me sad."
Yoonchae was looking at the wall. She forced herself to meet Megan's eyes. Yoonchae knows that this concern of Megan is as genuine as everything else that made up this woman. Megan cared that Yoonchae was upset. Megan just didn't understand why. Megan couldn't possibly understand why.
"I'm not mad," Yoonchae said. She paused to find her words.
"Liar." Megan's hand was still on Yoonchae's cheek. Her thumb brushed along Yoonchae's cheekbone absently. "You never lie to me. Why are you lying now?"
Because the truth is that she wanted to scrub that lipstick off Megan's mouth, wanted to ask who put it there, wanted to scream that she should have been at that party, should have been the one dancing with Megan, would cross a line they couldn't uncross. Megan was drunk and vulnerable and Yoonchae refused to be the kind of person who took advantage of that.
"You should sleep," Yoonchae said instead. She stood up, forcing Megan's hand to drop. "You'll have a headache tomorrow."
Megan made a soft sound of protest. She grabbed Yoonchae's wrist. "Don't go. Stay with me."
This is a bad idea. This will only hurt more, she is completely aware, but Yoonchae sat back down anyway. Megan immediately curled into her side, head on Yoonchae's shoulder, arm wrapping around Yoonchae's waist. They'd fallen asleep like this dozens of times. Tonight it felt different.
"You're my favorite person," Megan mumbled against Yoonchae's shoulder. "Did you know that?"
Yoonchae closed her eyes. Tears threatened behind her eyelids. She breathed carefully. "You tell me a lot."
"Good. Because it's true." Megan's words were starting to slur. "Even when you're being weird and quiet, you're still my favorite."
The crying would come later. Right now, Yoonchae just sat there and let Megan hold her. She counted the minutes until Megan's breathing evened out, until her grip loosened, until sleep claimed her completely. Only then did Yoonchae carefully extract herself. She grabbed a makeup wipe from Megan's desk and gently cleaned the smudged lipstick from Megan's mouth.
Megan didn't stir. Yoonchae threw the stained wipe in the trash and pulled a blanket over Megan's sleeping form. She allowed herself one moment of weakness, reaching out to brush hair away from Megan's face. Megan looked peaceful. Megan looked beautiful. Megan looked like someone who would wake up tomorrow and probably text that pretty girl from the party.