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When they enter the Mnet building it’s like stepping into another reality. They surrender their phones, their privacy, and whatever’s left of their dignity that they’ve managed to salvage at this point.
Sejeong whines for the camera, Mina stares at the basket of cellphones longingly, and Nayoung wonders if they’ll even make the first round of cuts.
The staff barks for them to keep moving.
--
They send Sejeong for the winning personality, Mina for the cute quota, and Nayoung wonders what the hell she’s even doing here. Visuals, Sejeong would point out, and Nayoung only has to look to her right to prove her wrong.
Cameras have never made her nervous. But when her existence has always swung between awkward and mundane, she doesn’t exactly flourish on-screen.
It’s always been the same dance. Nayoung treads carefully while Sejeong dives headfirst into the deep end.
But there are two Sejeongs, she learns. The one she’s always known – embarrassing, comfortable, easy, Sejeong, and the one that paints the camera with color.
It’s weird, laughable even, because Sejeong is genuinely charismatic on screen and not at all the country girl she’s known for the past year and half. Even her smile, which Nayoung has long since gotten used to, seems more refined for the camera.
“Do you always smile this much?” Nayoung asks her this once.
“I don’t know anything else.”
It’s the sort of answer nobody expects, least of all Nayoung, for whom smiles are a rare occurrence. Because how does anyone retain that level of optimism when they’re being worked to the limit. All for some ambiguous promise of debut.
But it’s that same optimism that catapults Sejeong into the top ranks. Suddenly she’s in first place.
People look at them differently now, all three of them. Sejeong gets a new nickname.
There’s also a distance between them now, Nayoung sees that, even when they’re standing side by side.
--
Their sunbaes, unhelpful as they were, did warn them not to read the comments.
They’re all terrible listeners though, with Sejeong leading the herd and arguing animatedly with the computer screen. Mina’s face drops with every scroll of the mouse and Nayoung wonders if the netizens have a point.
That they’re both skating by on Sejeong’s immense popularity, which Sejeong herself vehemently denies.
“Their mouths are basically garbage dispensers,” she snorts in a rare display of genuine animosity. It makes Nayoung wish she had Sejeong’s level of conviction in herself.
But the rankings don’t lie, and the drop out of the top 11 makes her almost want to blame Sejeong for inspiring all that false confidence. When the pettiness subsides, what’s important is that she made the cut, even if it’s just scraping by.
That’s always been their dream anyways, to stand together on the same stage.
And when their eyes meet as Sejeong’s walking to her seat, Nayoung thinks that might be enough.
--
As it turns out, the flower road isn’t for everyone, hard work be damned.
It should be enough that Sejeong and Mina made it into the top 11, and Nayoung’s happy for them, she really is. But there’s something crawling up the back of her throat, consuming her words. Nayoung strings together a weak congratulations, the pathetic element thankfully going unnoticed by Sejeong in her own deliriousness.
When Sejeong closes in for a hug, she feels every inch of Sejeong pressing against her body, impressions of her arms coiled tightly around her abdomen, face sinking deeper into her shoulder, hair strands sticking against her neck.
Even with Sejeong practically molding into her, Nayoung’s never felt further apart.
--
They pull Sejeong out of IOI for their debut. Nayoung learns nothing from last time, and still sticks her nose in the comments section.
Maybe Sejeong would be better off in IOI, maybe she’d be better off solo. There’s a variety career for her in case all of that goes to shit, as long as she doesn’t return to that terrible useless group Jellyfish is trying to debut.
There’s love pulling at Sejeong from all sides, pulling her further and further away from Nayoung. She tries to remember trainee-Sejeong with enough smiles to go around for everyone. These days, those smiles are reserved for the camera.
“I’m so tired, Nayoung.”
She wishes she could do something for this Sejeong. This third Sejeong created as the aftermath of a terrible audition show and skyrocketing popularity. She wants to hold this Sejeong and curl against her and whisper reassurances against her skin. She also wants to shake this Sejeong until she disappears.
She does neither of those things.
Instead, she distances herself, gives Sejeong space¸ as she calls it.
It’s pretty well documented that Nayoung’s a coward. Avoidance has always been her forte.
--
Unfortunately for Nayoung, Sejeong’s a perceptive little fucker.
And she’s never been one for subtleties. That’s evident in the way she drags Nayoung out of bed before their alarms go off, and before Nayoung’s able to blink more than twice.
Much like that audition nightmare, there’s no place for privacy when their dorm is inside the company building. Sejeong pulls her further down the hall, away from their rooms.
“What’s with you lately,” she hisses when they finally come to a halt.
“What do you mean?” It’s genuine confusion on her face, as Nayoung struggles to fight off the morning grogginess.
“Are you like, avoiding me or something?” It’s equal parts accusatory and hesitant. “You’ve been standoff-ish recently, and we don’t talk anymore. As in you, don’t talk with me.”
“I’ve been busy. You know, with our debut coming up and all,” Nayoung tries to wave it off dismissively.
“Cut the bullshit. Since when have you felt the need to lie to me?”
Since the divide between them has widened into something resembling a canyon. Since articles have been written detailing IOI’s success and Sejeong’s questionable departure into a murky debut. Since posts have flooded the forums pushing for her return to IOI and it’s one after another, people picking at her, taking and saving pieces of Sejeong for themselves. Demanding pieces of her for themselves.
But Nayoung doesn’t say any of that.
“Since loving you has gotten too hard,” she blurts out.
It’s a mistake, she doesn’t need Sejeong’s confirmation. Because it’d be easy if she just rejected Nayoung on the spot and she could toss out all these unnecessary feelings. But that’s not what’s happening here and Nayoung needs to put a stop to it before –
“But I – “
“Don’t say it,” Nayoung rushes to stop her. “Please. Just don’t say it.”
Because when Sejeong’s being pulled apart, Nayoung can’t take a piece of her too.
--
They debut as Gugudan and the reception’s lukewarm at best. Promotions are cut short so Sejeong can return to IOI. Somewhere along the line, she releases a solo also.
And the success of IOI-Sejeong and solo-Sejeong is almost a hilarious confirmation of what netizens predicted all along. Nayoung wonders, if they’re the ones tearing her apart the most.
But when all of that end, when Sejeong comes back as just Sejeong, Gugudan’s Sejeong, and the girl Nayoung’s maybe been in love with for years – the intimacy they shared all those times before comes flooding back.
She returns as the Sejeong who cracks jokes at the expense of Nayoung, relentlessly drags her into haunted houses even when they’re off season, laughs wide enough as Nayoung shrieks to see the back of her throat, and sometimes slides into Nayoung’s bed instead of her own.
On nights when Sejeong returns late, Nayoung instinctively makes room for her, shuffles closer to the wall so Sejeong can use her body as a pillow.
Sometimes, Nayoung hears her whisper, I’m home.