Chapter Text
This is how we'll stand,
When they burn our houses down,
This is what we'll be, oh glory.
It was the last song of the night. A cover of Let the Flames Begin by Paramore. The band's fame doesn't make up enough for them to sing most of their original releases. The market just somehow digs music they already know, and those who appreciate new sounds have always been rare.
"Sana." Their road manager calls her, "A tip for you. They said they dig your Hayley Williams impersonation."
A group of three men raises their beer bottles and smiles smugly from the distance. Sana scoffs, she always wanted to rub it off their faces. She remembers them for all the wrong reasons—being drunk and acting like terrible little shits every time. Yet, she still shows the best grin in return.
"What am I some call girl? I mean I do appreciate that hustle, but I'm a singer." Their manager puts a hand over her shoulder, turning to leave after.
Sana Minatozaki, vocalist, the face of their band—Canary Yellow—that's what they call themselves. Tonight was pop-punk night, and it's inevitable to play something from the Riot! album. Sana grew up listening to Paramore, until she practiced singing, playing guitar, making covers, and writing her own songs. She then arrived at playing for different groups in college, forming her own band, and dropping out of school. Came with the price of being sent out of the house though, but Sana is making ends meet.
"We really need a bassist guys," Jeongyeon, their rhythm guitarist, said as they entered the train to head back to their garage, "A good one."
"What's wrong with Miyeon?" Sana peers.
"What's wrong with her? What's wrong with you! It's so obvious she's out of rhythm. It gets bad for me every time she sessions for us." Tzuyu, their drummer, huffed in annoyance.
"Someone here with private endeavors is refusing to give her up." Jihyo, their road manager from earlier bumps Sana with an elbow, also telling her to hide the energy drink she's been guzzling in spite of the numerous 'no drinking' signs inside the train.
"What? I didn't sleep with her this time." Sana sniggers, "And isn't it Chae who had someone referred but didn't show up? We had no choice."
"The point is finding someone better." Chaeyoung, their lead guitarist, also speaks up. “Rise & Record is two months from now, we need someone to cover bass for our tracks. We can't start recording without someone. Someone good."
"Say we put up auditions?" Jihyo suggested.
"Isn't it wiser to just ask sessionists to play?” Sana asks.
“We need someone who'll record for our tracks and also play with us during Rise & Record. Hiring different sessionists is a bad bet. And the budget's low, you know that.”
"I'm up for auditions. I'll ask people at uni. But we have to post in band forums around the area too. I think we'll get a few from that." Tzuyu suggests, which they all eventually agree to after the security personnel in the train told them to keep quiet.
When they arrived at the garage, they did a short meeting about the auditions, and helped Jihyo return equipment to the rental studio a few blocks away. After the garage, it's always the usual unlatching sound of the taxi door, a sound that rings alongside the screeching of moving tires once Sana steps foot at the dark alley to her apartment.
Rotten exterior walls from years of no maintenance, chipped paints all over it from the air-conditioning units scattering droplets all over. The choice of color for paint was always tacky, yet it would’ve been better if they at least left it on for at least five years. It's Sana's everyday—or every night—the sight whenever she comes home. She had better things to do in the morning than rotting in her cluttered studio room.
Sana hates how it's been a while since she's cleaned the sheets to her mattress on the floor, but she grew love for it by being able to throw herself onto it without changing clothes. The adrenaline from earlier had been running out, and now, only the burning of her muscles keep her alive.
It would've been a different turn of events if Miyeon had invited her over. But Sana still replays it in her head, hearing her say that she's seeing someone else right now, someone ‘more committed’. It was the girl's exact words. Pathetically, Sana shouldn't be hurt. Though maybe she's a bit bitter about being stuck here with her dimmed out light bulbs. She can never remember to buy new ones.
Sana drifting into sleep had played forward into the weekend that they'd eventually meet their new bassist—possibly—if no one's terrible enough, or rude enough, to be sent home. Hopefully.
"We sent you a demo, didn't you receive it?" Jihyo was trying to keep her cool and put forward a mild tone. The rest of the band, however, knew she was over the edge. It's been the sixth person today, yet none seemed fit to their sound. Tzuyu was also extra agitated today, being the perfect drummer—as they call her—she kept redoing roll after roll with the auditionees, yet nothing just matches up.
"I'll call in the next one." Jihyo rushes out the door. They shrugged off her stomps, unexpecting of anything. They just want to get this over with, and maybe just go with the best one out of the worst candidates they’ve had in their whole four-year long career.
A woman enters. Roughly assuming, she's the same age as them in her mid-twenties. She looked the cleanest—not intended to offend the previous auditionees—but this one just looks like she'd never even touch an instrument a mile away. A paired up grey track pants and zipped up jacket, it even had its hood covering her short blonde locks, and a black undershirt.
“Is she here to steal or…” Chaeyoung slapped Jeongyeon’s thigh while also giggling along with her whispered words.
“Hi! Can we have your name?” Sana stands up from the sofas in the tiny control room to shake hands with the woman. Jihyo also enters back inside.
“Momo.” She said as she placed her guitar bag on the floor to open it. She didn't return Sana's hand shake, which irked the woman a bit. She settled back to the sofas with the rest of the band.
“Hi Momo, I'm Jihyo, Canary Yellow’s road manager. This is Sana, our vocalist; Jeongyeon, on rhythm guitar; Chaeyoung, on lead guitar; and Tzuyu’s in the booth, she's the drummer.”
Momo feigns a shy bow to each of them—without the eye contact and words. She waves at Tzuyu, though, which they assume she's someone from her uni, like most of the auditionees that came before her. That woman strangely knows a lot of people.
When the bag opened, the timid candidate pulled out a Music Man 70s Retro Stingray bass guitar. Jeongyeon muttered a low curse after saying those words in a whisper.
“That could pay half a year of my rent.” Chaeyoung fed her words further. Sana, on the other hand, hums, a gauging look scribbled all over her face.
“We’ll hope she's not a show-off.” Jihyo shushed Sana and the rest of them, smearing them off the prejudice with a peeved sigh.
The person they'd been judging was not the first of them. They certainly said worse things before. She wasn't also the first one to enter the booth to set up with fancy equipment next to Tzuyu and the drum set. They babble among themselves while waiting for them to finish. Tzuyu then signals with a raised clap go get their attention, which had the producer to lift his head up from the desk. He turned the controls up to hear Tzuyu and Momo in the booth, and passed the handheld mic to Sana.
“Momo, did you hear the demo we sent you?” A nod was sent from the room behind the tinted glass. Sana hums back in response. “You're going to play your arrangement to that demo live here with Tzuyu. Let's start?” A nod once again. Sana then told the producer to count them before playing the click track.
The metronome ends, Tzuyu hits her first drum fill on the snare—yet Momo raises a hand. The producer stops the track figuring she failed to catch up in time. She stutters an apology, fully standing up for them to see her bow. The band sought out discernable looks from one another. They let it slide, of course, everyone gets nervous, right?
The click track starts again. This time, the moment Tzuyu fills, Momo enters and solidifies the beat with a full-on walking-rock magic to it. Sana bites her lip, closes her eyes to it. It reminds her much of the bass line in Fences by Paramore. It's a beautiful fast-pace rhythm. She always took Canary Yellow’s sound to be bold, forward-faced, and hearing a rhythm with both that quality and a swing to it, immediately crawled static into her skin.
Jeongyeon and Chaeyoung were nodding. The sight of Tzuyu inside the booth became fresher—they knew she wasn't annoyed this time. Her rhythm synced tightly with the bass Momo was playing.
“Looks can be deceiving.” Chaeyoung huffed a laugh.
“Don't be too excited.” Jihyo nudges her.
“She's the best one—distantly better than the rest.” Throughout the whole demo, Chaeyoung's words proved right. They however had to sent Momo out to let in the last two auditionees, but they told her to wait. High anticipation was in the air, not even bothering a second of attention towards the two other candidates—yet it didn't matter because they were inevitably crossed off the list from being short of rhythm.
Jihyo called Momo in again. It was only her and the band now. The other auditionees had been sent home, given small glints of hope of being called again, but Jihyo knew it wouldn't happen. Not with Momo around.
“Okay, so, you're the one we picked.” Chaeyoung starts before them, and Momo shots a glance up. It's the first time they actually got a good grasp of her face. Earlier was just too much of the ambient lighting hiding her, and also the fact that she had her head down with a hood the whole time.
“You're a good bassist. Where'd you learn to play?”
“I- Well, some videos online and stuff.”
“We thought you're from music school.” Jeongyeon sits next to her, giving a pat on her shoulder. Tzuyu stifles a laugh after Momo glances coldly at her hand.
“We've been in the same language class once. I didn't know she plays bass but it's a good thing I saw her at the uni circle last week.” Tzuyu and Momo nod at the exchange. The rest of the band hums to it.
“Anyway, Momo, right?” Jihyo gets a nod from her. “Since you're the one we chose, are you up for practice every week? There's a songwriting festival in two months, Rise & Record. Getting a place on top would land us a chance to be signed. Since we don't have a bassist yet, we need you to fill in for the next months. If you're game.”
“Oh I… I am interested, but I'm not sure if I can fit it in my schedule.” Sana squints at her words, something unmistakable.
“Then why'd you audition? You've been told you'd session for us for a while, right?” Jihyo kicks the girl's shoe. She knew what the tone meant.
“Yeah but, you know, we can maybe negotiate about the commitment? I'm still in college so, schedule's really tight right now.” Momo, once again, was staring at her jittering feet. She also fiddled with the sleeves of her jacket, and it had Sana's head leaning a bit to the side.
“So you gave us high hopes, and then, you're time is inexplicable?”
“What Sana means is!” Jihyo saves it, “Maybe we can negotiate both our schedules to fit in weekly practice? There's things to do like a aiding in a few arrangements for our tracks, also some gigs scheduled. We’ll pay you for everything, and also accredit any contributions you'll make. If we get talent fees and, if in case, win a spot at Rise & Record, you'll get a good sum.”
“Can I maybe think about it first?” Momo darted her eyes across the room, and then pulling it back to her supposed safe space on the ground.
Sana pressed the tip of her tongue against the side of her mouth, pushing with a slight, subconscious force. A small habitual action that served as her silent outlet for the tension coiling in her chest.
“You can go home for now. But do contact us if you're decided! If you agree to this, we're very excited on working with you.” Jihyo did an end speech. She's always up for most of the talking. Momo left with her large bag, and a bow that almost looked like plain standing because of her timid movements.
“So what now? She was good enough, damn it.” Jeongyeon plops herself on the sofa.
“I guess we have to find a fallback. Chances of getting her aren't that firm.” Tzuyu suggests, which is the most viable solution there actually is.
“But Rise & Record is right around the corner.” Sana groans. “We need someone on bass. If we can't find someone soon, we'll fuck it up again.”
“Hey, no one's fucking it up.” Jihyo tries reassuring her with a hand above hers, but Sana's hold remained stiff. It's no use when she knows it's been years of them trying for different events just to stack their name up the music scene. It's been countless of scout agents telling them they'd call again but never did. Having lesser and lesser bassists wanting to fill them in because of bigger independent artists rising above them isn't helping at all.
“Momo, I want her.” Sana clicks her tongue.
“I'll do what I will to have her.”
Notes:
I'm happy this fic is finally out to the world! (or at least in twiceland/samo nation). I'm really excited for how it'll turn out in the next chapters!
Next update will be before the new year. I'll try my best to wrap up the whole story before the year ends so I could do multiple week updates. For now, here's the first chapter!
Advanced Merry Christmas to all! See you and Twice at Kōhaku Uta Gassen. :)
Chapter Text
Come and find me
Dancing all alone
To the sound of an enemy's song.
I'll be lost until you find me.
An old friend.
“Sana?” She smiles as she carries the bag of dirty clothes into the counter, but the man in corporate clothes in front of her also helps carry it in panic. Sana just laughs, signaling him to let her do it. It's a laundry shop anyway, and she's the one on shift.
“Wonwoo, it's been a while.”
“Yeah, it's been years.” An old friend from back home—or if she could even call it home.
“What’ve you been up to?” Sana asks, busy preparing change for his money and programming the receipt.
“Corporate. Can't get a break.” Wonwoo appeared more deep-voiced than Sana remembers. He's also put together, a boy with the image of flowers in the background.
“Say when your shift here ends, can we catch up through dinner?” He adds, which had Sana chuckling.
“My shift is until midnight. That's a long wait. You can carry on with your day and pretend you didn't see me.”
“Easy for you to say.” Wonwoo slips a paper into the shirt pocket on Sana's laundromat uniform. The woman questions a gaze. “Call me when you're done, I'll rush over. It's on me.”
Later that night, Sana did call him. They had a midnight drink near the clubbing district, but the place was something more toned-down. Only two more small groups were around them, sitting three tables apart in the outdoor umbrella seats. The rest of the company were insects flying over the lights of each empty space. Wonwoo pours Sana a drink.
“Canary Yellow, huh?”
“You find a way to find me.” Sana shakes her head in a laugh. Wonwoo was with her since high school. They were neighbors, and he was Sana's longest suitor. He'd get all blood and sweat just for a ten-minute walk with Sana back to their neighborhood from their school in the short distance. Even if Sana's friends shoo-ed him away, he was eager. Eager enough for his crush to last up to the first year of college, where Sana also admits she liked girls.
“I listen to you. You're a great band.” Wonwoo clinks his glass with Sana's, a curve up his lip peeping at the side of his face. A look of amusement, Sana couldn't believe it.
“We're not doing so well if I'm being honest.” Sana had told him countless times in the past how she wanted to be a singer, and she was specific—she wanted to be in a band. There's something about listening to Paramore from Wonwoo’s iPod which he eventually gave to Sana and caused him to get grounded for a month by saying he lost it somewhere. This man was something.
“There’s a prize to not giving up. I know you won't let that pass.”
The next thing, Sana was being dragged up the stairs with her arm wrapped around Wonwoo. She was nearly blackout drunk—but her tongue kept rolling out sentences with interchanged words, and it made her harder to carry with the playfulness taking over. A heavy sigh of relief filled the room as Wonwoo laid her down on the bed of his apartment. They drift to sleep shortly after.
Sana hates seeing old faces.
But something about seeing Wonwoo felt fine. He was still a sweet man, preparing her breakfast and giving her clothes to change into. Sana also took the freedom of a morning walk towards a convenience store near the apartment. She went alone, not wanting to talk to anyone at the moment. It felt like the perfect day to get cheap cold coffee in a plastic bottle.
But her tracks stopped even before stepping out the light of the road. If Sana didn't feel lucky enough, she does now. She had this in her mind for days, thinking how the hell would she reach someone she doesn't even know? But maybe fate does find you instead.
“Momo, right?”
Sana tapped the girl, who was opening her apartment door with hands occupied of grocery bags. The key in her hand slips and she groans quietly, but not unheard.
“Hm? Wait-” Her eyes widen, mouth ajar, “Aren't you from the band, Can-Cana- You're the vocalist!”
“You don't even know our name.” There it was again—the darting eyes, looking anywhere but forward. Sana chuckles at the nervousness. “Canary Yellow.”
“Yeah, uh, sorry.” Momo looks like a beaten up kid. Someone who was forced to say sorry to another kid for stealing their candy.
“So you live here?”
“Uh, yeah. You too?”
“Nope.” Sana pops the ‘p’. Momo hums. “So, how's the schedule going?”
“Well, I still don't know how to fit in practice. I'll call you when-”
“When?” Sana teases her with a distinguishing look—one that asks, curious, or maybe taunts. An attempt at being cute turned sarcastic. She could practically see Momo being more tense—stiffened in her position with quivery lips.
“Okay look, even if I play bass, I don't treat it as a day job. I know you guys will pay me but it's not enough to compensate for missing my commitments on other things.” The annoyance had an obvious mask. Momo was wearing it, not hiding it well even if she tried.
“Am I provoking you, Momo?”
“No.” Momo looks away again. “But don't you have someone else? A second candidate?”
“We liked you more than anyone. Actually, it's like you're the only candidate there.” Sana said as if it was obvious. She steps forward, and Momo does the same motion backwards. Her eyes kept fidgeting around, but it did glance more times at somewhere specific. Sana knew her shirt was buttoned wrongly, and it was Wonwoo’s—too large for her frame, so the neck opening was too low for her good. Sana internally laughs at the things it could do.
It wouldn't hurt to try. The idea lit up a few minutes into talking with Momo. She might not even like girls, what do you know? But the reactions had Sana guessing otherwise.
“Whatever you want,” Sana says it in a low whisper—tone intentionally seductive, as she goes in closer, enough for Momo to hit her back at the door, her grocery bags crumpling a sound.
“I’ll do it for you.” Sana bites her lip, which had Momo furrowing her brows in a stranged-out manner. Sana honestly would've had the same face if someone did this to her, or maybe even a stronger reaction.
“Please don't be… too intense… about this.” Momo hitches a breath, but vastly breathes it out after Sana steps back a good distance. “Fine. I'll play in your band, okay? But I'll have to make a few deals regarding my schedule.”
“Nice!” Sana claps and shrieks in joy. “You won't regret this. And if you don't show up this weekend, I know where to find you.” she gave the girl a wink, which ultimately left her jaw hanging. Sana finds it funny being able to either scare or catch people off guard. She doesn't know how it happens, but somehow things work for her when it does.
“Let's run another one before Momo comes. We can't embarrass ourselves.” Jeongyeon calls out while fiddling with her foot pedals. They do another run for their self-composed song, the tune they played as the demo for the auditionees last week.
Suddenly, there appears someone entering the door. They notice it from the booth when Jihyo stands up to shake her hand and lure her in. They stop playing and head to the control area. Momo was holding two trays of coffee with a popular name to it. They all say their ‘wow’s and greet her with a short hug.
“Showing up was more than enough, but thanks for this, Momo!” Jeongyeon cheers as she pierces the straw into her coffee cup. A high-pitched ‘mmh!’ followed.
“Make yourself comfortable, okay?” Momo nods at Chaeyoung, still with that diffident demeanor.
“We’re happy you decided to agree.” Sana, with her sly grin, had Momo looking at her with such obvious dislike. Sana still thinks it's laughable to have scared her into this. She wouldn't have gone back to that apartment anyway, not to see Wonwoo, and most definitely not to force Momo into anything. But the latter must've believed otherwise.
“Some force pulled my feet in, I don't know.” Well, she's one to ride on jokes herself. Sana shakes her head in a chuckle.
“So are you ready for gig practice? The schedule you discussed with Jihyo had an immovable date, we're playing live that day.” Tzuyu queries.
“Oh,” Momo's brows shot up, her words hanging into a long humming sound, “I’ve never played live yet.”
“Really?”
“I just play at home.” Momo smiles shyly, “But I'll try my best, I hope I don't embarrass the band.”
“Nonsense.” Tzuyu adds, which had the rest agreeing in nods, “We trust you.”
“To our new bassist—for a while!” Jeongyeon's loud voice had Momo jolting in shock, she held up the cup for a cheers, and they all laugh about it, yet doing so anyway. They quickly went into practice after a few pointers, leaving some empty and half-devoured coffee cups on the sofa once they entered the booth. The same tune from last time was played, but this time with the guitars and Sana's singing voice. Momo had to adjust her walking bass line a bit to accommodate other instruments, solidifying her stance in the rhythm section. They were feeling it at 200 bpm. They've been running for a whole hour now and Sana finally catches the biggest breath. She took in a few water sips to help her worn out throat from all the singing. The rest of the band were readjusting their gear, including the amplifiers to agree on which sound goes on top of the other.
For a first timer, they thought Momo was good at this. She claims not being in any band or playing in other groups before, so her talent and awareness was definitely an astounding feat.
The session ended, and they all headed out the studio after another short meeting and after Sana took care of the studio payment division, even scolding Chaeyoung for bringing cash short on her part. They stood outside, pondering on where to head off. Tzuyu took the first flight away to her dorm. Jihyo, Jeongyeon, and Chaeyoung were in a different direction so they all went together, leaving Sana and Momo.
“You're taking the cab, Momo? Wanna split with me?” Sana asks her, fiddling with her bag in front. Momo, however, wasn't answering. So Sana glances up at her.
“I have my car with me.”
“Oh?” Sana chuckles to herself. A kid with a three-thousand dollar bass guitar after all, barging in with seven cups of coffee. “Then I'll head out now.”
“Wait,” Sana stops in her tracks,
“You… maybe want a ride?”
“Maybe?” Sana giggles, repeating Momo's words in the same tone. She thinks it would be agonizing for the girl, with the way Momo seems like she talks with a lump in her throat. She must've scared her too much.
“Do you want a ride?” Momo sighed, and it had Sana curving up her lip.
“I’m just messing with you.” Sana places a light pat on Momo's shoulder—her palm facing her collar. Sana rubs her thumb on a patch of Momo's skin uncovered by fabric. And Momo steps back, removing herself from what seemed like a burning touch.
Sana grins. She's a fun one, alright.
“Good night, Momo.”
Notes:
Very short chapter for today! A little peep into the stirring impressions of SaMo towards each other. Also gonna be using some svt members as minor characters, just a little spoiler. :)
Thank you to everyone supporting the story so far! Every kudos and comment means everything to me as a starting writer. And hey, even the silent readers—everyone is appreciated!
Please do feel free to leave your reactions and suggestions! Next update will be on the weekends. Happy holidays!
Chapter Text
Don't look up just let them think there's no place else you'd rather be.
Momo scoffs while turning to a green light.
The vocalist was always… something.
It was a regular day for her to stop by the grocery to get instant ramen packs and a few stock-ups, when that woman strangely appears on her doorstep. With that devilish look, she thinks it isn't impossible that she followed her all the way to her place somehow.
But as much as Momo hates this, there's a tingle that comes with the smug smile she shoots at her. A hint of a current running through her whenever she sees those eyes so moist and shiny.
Whenever she's alone, Momo thinks that two could play her game. But when Sana snaps words in front of her, she just can't seem to snap back. Momo hated being teased like a kid more than anything, and that woman obviously wanted to irk her to the edge. She really has a bad feeling about it.
Momo hates crazy women.
But Sana—without talking—looked too much like an angel. Momo finds it pathetic. Even her voice is angelic. Demonic woman.
Another week of practice and waiting passed by quickly, and it's the night of their gig. The name Canary Yellow was plastered over the small lighted sign board—the last name in the list of three, even if they were scheduled to play first. This is always the case when bigger acts booked the same day, just like tonight, with Comic Replica leading the set. That band recently gained a lot of traction in both streaming platforms and headlines for mainstream artists. It's not a bad thing playing the same night with them, though—always a healthy scene in the music underground.
Sana runs around near the stage and back at the tight room to store all their things. She does so with Jihyo—who was twice as nervous as her. The thing about gigs is that there's a chill atmosphere before and after the set, but when they're almost on, everything goes berserk.
Momo, on the other hand, wanted a way to help. But she was just met by the band members passing in front of her in swift motions, not even letting a word out of her mouth. They did tell her help was not needed, but she feels bad having to just stand stupid than be useful. It also doesn't help when a few eyes from the crowd were going her direction.
After running around across the bar minutes before 8 p.m., they finally get to set their gear up on the small podium—couldn’t even be called a stage. Momo finally got busy too, connecting and arranging her wires and pedals, getting ready for cue once she checked her tuning again.
Tzuyu's drum fill echoed the bar. The people cheered. There were about twenty people in front of the stage, and more entering after the booming sound. Sana ignites the spark of energy further with exciting words, her voice so loud that it garnered the same reactions. She said a few words—about the band, about their songs for the night, and especially about a certain Momo who's sessioning for them today.
Momo prays she wouldn't make any noticeable mistake, because Sana was close to cueing their start. Five seconds, drum sticks flinging into each other in eight counts of a fast beat, and bang—the rest of the set was filled with adrenaline and good music.
Sana was also the cue to end their set. The usual thanks for the people who came and listened, and also promoting their platforms as much as she can. They gained two small tips as they were removing their gear, finally going back to the tight room that held their things.
They huddled into a congratulations. Another successful gig no matter how small, it meant the world to the band. The music mattered most in their lives, and performing for people who appreciate the small scene is the blood that keeps them alive.
The band went into the club in separate ways for now, interacting with some of the other artists of the night, and also with regular people at the bar. Momo, however, stood in the unlit corner, holding the complimentary beer in her hand saved for performers. Her hands still trembled from earlier, so it's nice having a more downcast place to weigh the feeling down.
“Hey.” Momo glances at the woman—it was Sana—going over to her side.
“Uh, hi.” She said it without looking, tightening her grip onto the inside of her pocket. An awkward jolt.
“How was it?”
“I’m… shaking.” Sana laughs at Momo's overly serious expression. “How do you even do it? You're so good in stage.”
“If you mean it, thanks.” Sana sips from her beer bottle with a gentle smile. “Years of going on this small stage had helped, but most of all, you gotta pretend the attention doesn't bother you.”
“It doesn't seem to actually bother you, though.”
“Oh trust me, less than thirty people in the bar and only a few actually listening to us is something I struggle to sleep at night with. They're here for the other artists, but I need to keep up the energy and pretend it's not the case if I want more of them to keep listening.”
“I’m sorry.”
“Hm? Don't be.” Sana bumps her lightly—shoulder to shoulder. “Some days, it's not like this. In more intimate gigs, I see people's eyes that tell how they like our music. I'll always remember these days if we ever do get a bit famous.”
“You will be, not just a bit.” Momo earns a chuckle, “I'm serious! You're all good musicians. Your songs are addictive. And your voice is, uh, good. You'll get there one way or another.” Sana raises a brow.
“If you really think so, then I'm not losing hope.”
“I know so.” Momo grins lightly. “And I'll help you with what I can.”
“Thank you, Momo.” Sana gave a genuine smile, far from the taunting ones. “And I'm sorry for being a pain in the ass. I just enjoyed messing with you. We're on a different foot now, if that makes it better.”
“Appreciate it.” Momo raises her bottle, and Sana clinks it with hers in a giggle.
“You gotta stay for the last performer. They're good. You might know them.”
“Comic Replica?” Sana nods. “I've heard of them. They're getting attention.”
“They make thematic sarcasm in reference to fun pop culture scenes. Their sound is unique, creative.” Momo nods along casually, “Their vocalist, Nayeon, is a friend. But she has a rocky situationship with Jeongyeon so you might want to be careful about mentioning that.”
“Got it.” They laugh together lightly in the dark corner. It's a different atmosphere from the childish act Sana had put a while back.
“We're grabbing more drinks after. Does your schedule fit that?”
Momo grins with her head down. “Of course. I'm free for the night.”
“You seem like a busy person.”
“An assumption, may be right or wrong.”
“We’re back to playing this game, huh?”
“No.” Momo shakes her head in a chuckle. “I'm busy because I'm in school. I'm graduating at the start of next year.”
“You're Tzuyu’s age, are you?” Momo nods.
“I assume you're older.”
“Do I look older?”
“Nope. You look, uh, youthful.” Sana shrugs off the compliment with a dismissive grin. “But you act older.”
“Oh yeah? How'd you know?”
“Uh, I know nothing about you, to be honest.”
“And I assume you don't want to?” Sana leans in a bit closer, shuffling the words up to the brink of Momo's limit. Yet she's becoming more amusing.
“We might become good friends, after tackling down your fences and all.”
“I don't have one.” Sana bumps her arm again, “It's not a facade. I'm just me.”
Momo smiles to the ground. “You're the one who's getting interesting here.” Sana adds, earning raised brows from Momo who was chugging her beer.
“I'm boring. Don't you see me hiding in the corner here? I can't keep up conversations.”
“And yet you're keeping me up all night here.” Momo laughs. It was practically the final words—words from Sana that are just teasingly trivial. They remained in the dark for a while, chugging from their own bottles and bobbing their heads to the current band on set. The shared silence only got interrupted by someone recognizing Sana from afar, and she eventually left Momo.
She'll be damned if Sana keeps it up like that. The subtle brushing of the girl's arm on hers had been sending loads of friction on her skin the whole time. Not that it means anything, but the lasting adrenaline etched on Sana's face took a playful swirl in her head. Maybe it was the alcohol, Momo thinks, she's not a good drinker after all.
After Comic Replica performed, the band stayed in the bar for more drinks. Just like Sana said, Jeongyeon was sprawled on the table, stealing glances at their vocalist in plain sight, impossible not to notice. Sana was sitting next to Momo and she used the chance to bump their knees together, exchanging a knowing glance in reference to their conversation about the two from earlier.
“Pushed it too far.” Jihyo whispers when Jeongyeon left the table, being sure of where she went. The rest of the band did their own shake of heads. It may or may not help them write a good song—she’s done it in the past with their single that Jeongyeon wrote, same girl in her mind.
“They'll get around. They like the lingering tension too much. It's like I'm watching a movie.” Tzuyu's words brought giggles to the table.
“Hey, let's let her sleep at night.” Sana puts a stop to the buzz. Her bandmate—most importantly her friend—has had it hard enough. They can only do much and leave the rest to the two.
“So, Momo,” Chaeyoung leans on the table, a hum in response from the girl, “What do you do? We're curious.”
“I’m in my fourth year of college.”
“What do you study?”
“Legal Management.”
“What the hell?” Chaeyoung chokes on her drink, “That's what's up with your schedule, huh?” A scoffed-out laugh could be heard beside her. At the edge of her eyes, Sana was biting her lip in a cynical grin. Momo’s brows met with the reaction.
“So you're studying to be a lawyer? We might just need you when we get rich.” Jihyo quips.
“No, no. I'll be running a family business. I wanted to know more about the legal entanglements. Can't get myself caught up in that.”
“Glorious.” Sana whispers next to her, but enough for her to hear. Momo had an impish—a tint of giddy feelings carelessly causing her fingers to flick on Sana's knee under the table. She notices the girl getting a bit shocked.
“You're in the big league.” Chaeyoung opens another bottle for her. Momo grabs it with one free hand in thanks.
“It’s stupid to deny, but I don't bathe in that sort of character.” Momo drinks from the bottle. It was colder than her last, she appreciated the taste more.
“Well then, here, you're just like the rest of us.” Jihyo raises her drink to meet with theirs. Momo had an unalloyed smile to her.
“Thanks. I appreciate being here. Different from just studying in my room.”
The night went on with the five of them talking more, without Jeongyeon ever joining them again. They talked about trivial things, about the band, about Momo, and about Rise & Record coming nearer into focus. They had one end goal, and they put it into heart even at times like these where they just enjoyed being simple people making music in an old beat-up bar.
Momo's head was getting worn to a frazzle. She can only take too much human interaction and alcohol at the same time. Even the one bottle she shared earlier with Sana had parts of her body numb. And now, she was beet red and unpleasantly sweaty. She had to leave and find the bathroom soon.
“Out of order.” Momo jumps in surprise when a voice whispering in her ear reads the posted message on the bathroom stalls. She turns to find Sana, leaning into her with hands behind her back.
“I know a place, follow me.” Momo knew better than to trust it, but her numbing thoughts said otherwise. She followed the girl's tracks into a dark, wet alley—surprisingly not smelly—at the back of the bar. Momo thanks the heavens how there was actually a bathroom stall there, although not as clean as inside, but it doesn't matter when her head was flying over the moon.
Momo had a tiny rubbing alcohol squeeze bottle with her that came in handy for times like these. It fit right into her pocket. She exited the stall and was met with Sana's back. She had a leather jacket on earlier, but now remains a white tank top. Even in the dark, her figure spoke volumes in Momo's head—wanting to be admired. Her frame fit right into a petite hourglass paradigm. Or maybe Momo's thoughts were spinning and knocking her over here.
“You're staring at me, I can feel it.”
“Hell on earth, Sana.” Momo huffs and it releases a thin smoke from the cold air. Sana must be suffering, wearing herself thin like that.
“Take it into account,” Sana turns to face her, stepping forward into the light of Momo's eyes. She sighs, careful for her breath not to hit Sana's face.
“I won't let you just touch me like that and leave unscathed.” Truthfully, Momo had been touching her all night. But it was nothing but small grazes of her fingers on Sana's knees, and then to her thighs. The short skirt that Sana wore laid her bare for Momo to walk right into—like a trap. She fell for it.
“Unscathed?” Momo repeats her tone. Low and slow. Like a secret carefully waiting to be revealed.
“You marked your place.” Sana pushes her feet a few steps further. Damn the dirty wall that hit Momo's back.
“You're not doing that without a fight, are you?” Sana adds to her words, body dangerously closer by an inch. Momo's breath hitches, yet she catches the musky scent of bergamot from Sana's perfume.
“Damn you.”
Soft lips crashed into hers without a warning.
Notes:
Phew.
I did say I was gonna post the update on the weekend, but here's an early one as thanks to all the support in the comments!
Now that we're left with a... "situation", here, I wanna know your thoughts! Intoxicated Momo is surely something, who would've thought?
See you on the next update!
Chapter Text
We could be alone
But never get too lonely
"Hey, fuck you."
An irritating alarm tone kills Sana’s sleep early in the morning. She shakes the girl next to her.
“It's been your third alarm and you're still not gone, God.” Momo violently sips her drool from sleep. Her cheeks had traces of the crumpled duvet, and her eyes were teary and red. Yet upon checking the time, she gets up in panic, pauses with a hand on her head, and moves again.
"Hey? Leaving like that, are we?" Momo couldn't answer from brushing her teeth. She had a bathroom inside her room. Her apartment was somehow big enough to accommodate that. The door remained open so Sana took the liberty to peek with elbows supporting herself up.
“Sorry Sana, I'm gonna be late for my thesis class.”
"After you slept on me? Am I that unlikeable to you?" The fumes in Sana's head started to boil once again. Last night was supposed to be a good disaster—especially when their lips met in that dark alley, tongues fighting with grunts and squelches from wet, torrid kisses. Momo's touches did not disappoint her as well, especially when it rode up to the crevices of Sana's skirt, a gasp escaping her.
But it was a mistake being grossed out of slamming right there and then in the musty alley, because when Sana told Momo to drive her to her place, the woman just engaged her in another divine make out sesh, until she concluded it with a snore and knocked out senses. Sana cursed at her more than she should last night.
"Sorry, okay? I'm not a good drinker." Momo was in too much of a rush to feel guilty. But she knew if she wasn't too drunk last night, things would've definitely turned out otherwise.
"Yeah, yeah. Didn't even finish taking off my bra and you're fast asleep. You're the most horrible person I know.”
"Sana, I'm sorry, I'll make it up to you." The words sounded like a shallow course, but Momo meant it with her heart. She kept repeating ‘stupid’ in her head while putting on pants.
"I'll come back in two hours. Can you wait for me until then?” She adds, pausing to catch her breath.
"Ain't got a choice, do I?" Sana rolls her eyes.
"Awesome." Momo bends over to her place on the bed. She went close, fixing Sana's hair away from her tensed features in light caresses. Momo bites her lip in an apologetic look. "Wait for me. Don't go home."
The door slammed shut. Sana sighs to herself. It didn't at all hurt her pride, but being edged into grave horniness and getting nothing done to you was a dread. It killed all the fun in her veins.
But what can she do? She still found a bit of relief being in Momo's place. Waking up to the cracked corners of her room, down low in an old mattress on the messy floor, was always the worst thing to her day. It's been no use cleaning it up for years, she gave up on it.
Momo's place, however, was sleek and dustless. It's a lot more than Sana could ever imagine herself in. Momo had those air fresheners that unbelievably run out when you leave them open for an hour, yet it's like Momo didn't even mind checking if it was closed. The smell traveled delicately through Sana's nose, though. The vision of mornings that aren't so bad. It compensated for the empty feeling she had last night.
Sana woke up again with the door to the room clicking open. She used up the two hours to her liberty of catching more rest. It's her day off from laundry duties too.
“Got you something, hope you like it.” Momo drops her hobo bag on the computer chair. Sana noticed the pink setup in her desk a while ago.
“You're terrible, you know?”
“And you're amazing for not making it awkward.” Momo hands her the beef stew she bought from a Czech restaurant near her uni. Sana had no idea what it was but devoured it otherwise. Momo just watched her eat, despite protests from the girl who attempted feeding her too, but Momo was firm about being full.
“Thanks.” Sana burps, a giggle shortly after. “That's enough to make up for last night.”
“Your standards are…” Momo chuckles, staring at the ground had been her signature move, “...I’m not sure what to make of it.”
“It’s because I'm easily satisfied with things. Those not related to my music, of course. That shouldn't be a problem, right?”
“Sometimes, it is.” Momo sits next to her on the bed, grabbing Sana's hand and facing her paw upwards. She placed an ibuprofen pill which Sana obliged to swallow. She was also given a glass of perfectly not-too-cold water right after.
“But at least we can keep things professional between us.” There's a laugh to Sana's words that gave away the light air between them. Everything is way different from last night—it’s as if Sana forgot how much she wanted to feel Momo on her skin, because now was just a mundane weekend to her.
“Yeah.” Momo grins about it. She's unaware if it's a good thing, because her drive to campus was excruciatingly full of voices in her head that circled on stupid, dumb, asshole.
“Don’t do that again.” Sana had a more firm, but still joking tone this time, “If you can't woman up, don't provoke me.”
“I won't. Sure of it.” Momo raises a hand and crosses her chest with the other in a pout.
Too much sleep causes people to come up with crazy ideas in the light of day. It was Momo's idea after they once again woke up from sleeping next to each other, and it was three in the afternoon. Slow days are the best for rest, but the pace quickens when Momo's idea was to take Sana around for a drive.
Momo's car is a Subaru Forester. The sunroof was open when overgrown herbage filled the backdrop in olive and gold hues. She played Back Pocket by Vulfpeck and let the app shuffle option do the rest. The mood of the song toned down the mechanical sounds of the highway.
“Do you ever write any songs?” Sana asks loudly to combat the whooshing air that hit the sunroof. Momo is a fast driver for a shy-looking person, that's for sure.
“Uhh, I think I have?”
“What kind of answer is that?”
Momo chuckles. “I tried when I was a mid-teen. But I don't write words well. I gave up on it.”
“Eh,” Sana scoffs, “You seem articulate. You're tied to social science.”
“I won't write about contract breach, would I?”
“All is limitless.” Momo tilts her head to the side, a sign of agreement. The sun was starting to set and it had a tan gleam on the car window that had marks of raindrops. The view was a bit dispersed because of it, making it hard for Sana to angle her phone to capture the fading sunlight. She eventually gives up assuming Momo just hasn't cleaned her windows yet. It was more beautiful to admire with the naked eye anyway.
They stopped by the ledge of a bridge on a less busy road. It was the best spot she could find to catch the sunset in its best view. It wasn’t high up a mountain, but the thin river beneath them allowed for a peek at the sun’s home in the west. Momo parked her car on the dried up weeds and lifted her trunk for her and Sana to sit. Her actions were prompt from Sana telling her to hurry.
Somebody Else by The 1975 was playing. It was Sana's streaming account now instead of Momo's. It felt perfect for the color of the sky. Sana had always imagined it like that.
They took in both the scene and the music, hypnotized by the saturated view of the sky. Deep orange—a perfect sunset as it's called. The synth beat stirred up Sana's insides, a feeling not present on most days—a good feeling.
“Fuck, you're amazing for this, Momo.” A quiet smile drawn on the latter's face, and Sana couldn't help but press their shoulders together. She still wore that tank top from last night, and Momo's sleeves gave her a warmer feeling.
Sana looks beside her where Momo's face stayed in place. Her blonde hair paired perfectly with the colors and it put her in a giddy haze. Momo looked too much like the subject of a Claude Monet prairie.
“I'll nerd about something.” The woman's words cut her train of thoughts. Sana hums to let her continue.
“Tacit knowledge in the professional field.” Sana hums again, “It's my thesis.”
“About?”
“Tacit knowledge are things hard to put into words. It's like things you know by heart and understand at the deepest level but you can't just say it and have anyone see it in the same way.”
“Intuition?”
“It’s the closest word, but add that to years of candid experience and observation.” Momo's face lights up, “In pragmatic cases, it clashes with formal exchange of explicit knowledge—one backed up by spoken facts and research. But a lot of studies have looked into its contribution to successful teams.”
“Hm? Say I became a lawyer, and then I just get a gut feeling that this person is guilty, do I have grounds for that?”
“If grounds for investigating further, of course.” Sana nods, a smile hiding behind the desire to see more of Momo in computer mode, “Prominent businessman, Bruce Henderson, in 1977 defined intuition as collective experiences and knowledge that inject into your subconscious. So these are real things, considering also your cultural and other backgrounds.”
“So the gut feeling of my decisions, they're not just some random signals that I believe the universe sends me? They're actually my subconscious deciding for me?”
“In most ways, yes.” She rarely meets smart people like Momo. Sana tires herself with the most flimsy personalities in her everyday life—her boss, people at work, distant family members that still recognized her, and acquaintances that felt too entitled to her space. She only had her band most of the time, so Sana was always in a blue funk about meeting new people.
“Was it your intuition to choose me from all the auditionees?” Momo adds, earning a teasing grin from Sana.
“Don't flatter yourself. They were terrible. You're the only decently good one. We mean it.” Momo just nods in a smile. “But I did get this gut feeling the night before I saw you at your place. So I decided to sleep with a friend in the same building, and then there's you.”
“Sleep? I have a gut feeling that means a hookup.”
“Oh? Is that your gathered experience from hanging out with all the playgirls in town?” Momo shakes her head in a laugh. “He’s a friend. A he. I'm gay if you still don't know.”
“Mm, so you got a gut feeling I was too? After cornering me in that dark alley?” Momo was playing at it again.
“A gut feeling since you acted so nervous around me in the apartment.”
“Well, my gut feeling was that you were stalking me. It had happened before.”
“Wow. A gazelle out of the herd. You're an easy target for stalkers, aren't you?”
“Easy enough to be lured in by you.”
“Oh, Momo, it's just you.” Sana shakes her head. “I haven't even done anything, and yet your fingers start feeding on my skin already.”
“I had the gut feeling you'd like it.”
“‘Cause you done it to other girls before?”
“Nope. Just a gut feeling.”
“You know I'll take your own words against you forever, right?”
“You've weaponized me. You won.”
“You're really sweet.” Sana giggles from Momo's confused face. She sighs into lying down at the trunk. “We do get along. I never thought I'd be like this beyond sex. We haven't even done it yet.”
“Haven't yet?” A sly smirk up Momo's lips.
“Shut up and just lie next to me.” Sana pulls Momo and she falls to her back with a grunt. Sana acts as it's nothing as she closes her eyes.
“See, you're the one with fences here,” Sana references their previous conversation, “You act all shy and innocent, but you're just a subtle flirt.”
“Well that wasn't my intention.” Momo chuckles.
“So you're saying you were just drunk?”
“Maybe. Or maybe you're one to cut a dash.”
“That's your way of saying I'm your type?”
“Conventionally attractive, if you may.” Sana scoffs a laugh at her. It was useless figuring it out. She settles with breathing in the growing crispness of the post-sunset air. She felt like being lost in the ravine of it. The felt liners of Momo's car cushioned her in a comforting way.
“Sana.”
“Hm?” She turns her head to the side where Momo had her eyes shut. Her lips were slightly parted in a dopey look—like faking her death of some sorts. Or maybe that's just the way she rested her face at the corners of sleep. It was comic, and cute, undeniably so.
“What?” Sana was growing impatient when Momo didn't bother to say a word. She just stayed in that mum state for stretched minutes. “What?”
And all of a sudden, Momo was humming to the song on the car's speakers.
“You should be alone, yeah you should be alone, you should be alone with me-”
Sana tries best to stifle her laughter. She thinks it's silly—Momo not really staying in good tune, and her wildcard singing while her eyes were deep shut. Sana's giggles eventually broke into the air in tiny echoes, yet Momo still kept it up. Sana couldn't help but turn her body facing the girl, dragging herself to abolish any previous expanse between them. She was too close that it felt natural rubbing her palms on Momo's stomach under her shirt, sliding through the contours of it. There was a light flinch, but she incredibly kept up the singing.
The moment was just Sana's light strokes and Momo in her own waves. It's odd, having a little shared moment that seemed so natural despite its first emergence. So strange, that Sana couldn't help but place a chaste kiss on her lip—a pink tint forming on the girl who seemed to suddenly have her words caught up in her throat.
“You're strange.” Sana pushes herself away from Momo, back into lying down.
“You’re surreal.” And just like that, they lulled away the loose ends of it, succumbing into the peculiar path this has went into. Until the dimmed skies and the warmth of each other's shoulders had wrapped them in a quiet song.
Notes:
Happy Sana Day! I hope our 28 year-old baby has a wonderful day, a prosperous year ahead, and good health. ✿ ♡
Just a short chapter for today. A little SaMo-focus fluff. Quite the unconventional relationship, but whatever makes them happy, right?
Happy reading! Next update on the new year. :)
Chapter Text
I've gone for too long living like I'm not alive
So I'm gonna start over tonight, beginning with you and I
The last load of the midnight had Sana wiping her sweat in victory. It's the end of her shift, but she stayed a bit to spare time for her own overdue pile of dirty clothes.
It's payday, the middle of the month. She had a comfortable amount to hail a ride both to her place, and then to Jihyo’s garage. It's 3 a.m., but she's had an idea playing in her mind during the whole shift. She called up Chaeyoung as well, knowing she'd be the one best to pull it off—and that she'd only be the one up for a spontaneous jam in the middle of the night.
The three of them had been jotting down notes for the past hour since they arrived. Also trying their hand to record a decent demo in the garage-turned-practice-studio clad in painted egg trays and foam puzzle mats. It's been a collective effort to turn this place into what it is.
The same year they made this studio was also the year their original bassist slipped away. It was just one year into deciding they'll do this full time when the sudden news caused a crack in their knuckle, halting a lot of progress on their part.
It was also the same year Sana got kicked out of her house. In her first year of college, she failed to attend most of her classes because a whole bachelor's in chemistry wasn't her thing. She'd spend nights at Jeongyeon's dorm, writing songs with her, and posting covers as a duo. The two eventually landed a small gig. It ultimately made Sana decide to quit college to pursue music instead. But upon telling her parents, it was a silent war of packing her suitcase and starting zero. She cried into Jeongyeon’s arms and stayed in her place until she found some enough ground to rent her own flat. She was met with protests from her friend, but Sana nonetheless wanted to be independent. Her first apartment surely had been hell, Jeongyeon was right—with her great hunches and all. But luckily, Sana found a new place to set foot.
Tzuyu also had a bad case of not showing up to practice without a notice. It caused some feuds here and there, considering she was their best bet at recording the bass tracks as well since none of them could do it as smoothly as the heart of the rhythm. She was still in high school at the time, the youngest among them. Yet she grew to have such serious passion in the craft through the years. Her no-show episodes didn't last long.
Jihyo completed the stones. Sana and Jeongyeon had always known each other from being batch mates in their junior years. They played on many school events, even tried busking during their first year of uni with only about two dollars at the end of the night. But it was fate having Jihyo around to run after them when they were about to walk home. She introduced them to Chaeyoung first, who's been making YouTube guitar solo covers since she was ten. She's Chaeyoung's cousin too. Now, Jihyo's a music prod graduate—she only took it to get into her dream uni.
Tzuyu appeared with their old bassist when Jihyo landed the three a gig, even lying about their age at first because they had to play at a bar. She was seventeen when the rest were twenty-two. They kept jamming for a year before making it official four years ago. Canary Yellow—yellow was the color shirt they all coincidentally wore that day, and canary—well, the singing bird, enough reason.
“It's nice, I like it.” Jihyo kept bobbing her head to the demo. It's six in the morning when she woke up to check on Sana and Chaeyoung in the garage.
“You think we can fit it for Rise & Record?” Sana asks, which had Jihyo humming long.
“Well it's up to you, if you feel it.” Jihyo takes a seat next to them, facing the computer. “I'll do my best to add more to this and send it to the producer. We'll tell the rest about it in a while, if you're game.”
“I think it's a good one.” Chaeyoung wrapped an arm around Sana, who clutched her legs tighter on the chair. She claps in excitement, having Jihyo take over the pre-mixing. They smile at each other—tired eyes from no sleep, yet appeased and content.
“Hi.” Sana knocks, but was already scanning the room to which Momo recorded her bass parts. The latter smiles meekly, reaching up the eyes with an unmistakable pink tint on the cheek. Sana thinks if that was even possible, being so subtle yet welcoming her with such great warmth.
“How's it coming around?” She sits next to Momo, who was sliding her fingers on the fretboard of her bass. Her hair tousled in a blue beanie and brows meeting each other. The expression was winsome. It had a cloying blow to it—the way the soft contours of her face took the warm studio light in the gentlest way, her skin a fair color with just the faintest trace of marks across her cheeks—the bridge of her nose, and one near her lip—and her lips, slightly parted from focus, looked like the lips of someone who had spent her life contemplating. It had such rawness to it.
“I’ll play you two versions of this part. See what fits the mood more.” Sana patiently listened, giving Momo her comments and suggestions here and there—also explaining the essence of the song to help her capture a certain hue the band was yearning for. They had to polish some minor details but the demo recording came to a success, with Sana helping Momo dunk at the track, them alone in the studio doing the magic. The streak was only cut by Momo needing to study for her prelims.
Another drinking session had the band gathering around an outdoor riverside pub. They got invited by some friends in the scene that were playing that night, and they also turned it into a somewhat laid-back meeting. The set was halfway already when Momo arrived rushing, clad in a grey flannel with her hobo bag, her uni ID still hanging from her neck which had them teasing her for it.
“This is Sunmi, Comic Replica’s bassist, and this is Somi, she just released XOXO recently. Guys, this is Momo, she's our bassist for R&R.”
“I'm a fan.” They giggle at Momo’s timid demeanor, calling her cute. The band let the two hear their demo, which had them cheering in high tones. They were a supportive bunch—friends gained at the pile. That old bar was the home they all came back to. The band asked for more suggestions, and it revealed some good insights that even Momo listed in her head. It was still all new to her, events becoming knowledge each day she spent with the band.
The friends that invited them were another rock band, and an R&B duo. The interactions grew more when they both finished their sets, the band's table having more and more red monoblocs being dragged next to each other. Extroverts would thrive, introverts might dread, they were filled with small talk and things about music as an instant mutual understanding. Jeongyeon was standing up narrating a joke, three people slapping her arm after being so corny, a big flock of laughter and tipsy fun.
It was all that until Sana had to excuse herself to the bathroom, breaking her tangled fingers with Momo under the table. The latter shoots a glance, and it wasn't even five minutes until she excused herself from the table as well, an easy camouflage being in a large group.
"Lighting a cigarette?" Momo approaches Sana, the moon and small red tints of light hitting the edges of her silhouette. The river in the backdrop had her already breathless. The last time Momo took in Sana's figure from the back was when they first kissed. Moments before that kiss was bloodshed—her head thinking of wiser things to do than to indulge in the sight of such an alluring woman. But it was her defeat in the end, she realized that the result would have always been the same—Momo and Sana.
"I don't smoke." There was a light tremble in Sana's body which stopped her from huffing a chuckle, it was the slight surprise from Momo placing her chin on the empty space above her shoulder that begged to be filled. It felt like a habit, but it's honestly the first time Momo has done it. Yet, Sana draws her in.
"Then why are you hiding here? This is the smoking area. I've been looking everywhere.”
"Some entanglements," Momo easily slips her index finger to hook Sana's pinky. The same contact they had earlier which she immediately searched for. It was unsaid, but definitely not unnoticed. "Sleeping around leads me to hiding from more people."
"Oh? One from the band that played earlier?"
"One from the duo."
"Damn? And I thought they were together." Sana laughs at the quieter tone in her reaction, "What happened? Why'd you have to hide?"
"It was just a hookup. I honestly can't remember much, but it's exhausting sensing a horny stare at me. I don't get interested twice, especially if I'm not numb and drunk."
"You sure are a personality." Momo removes her head from Sana's shoulders. The latter glances, but Momo moved her body to face Sana, their fingers still entangled.
"Would you do that to me too?" Momo asks.
"What?"
"You know, hide from me."
"You're not a hookup, Momo. Of course I won't."
"Have you said that to your other girls too?"
"Nope." Sana's head lands sideways, a teasing grin creeping in. "So you're the jealous type, huh?"
"I'm not!" Momo's tone was defensive, which had Sana swinging their arms together in playful nudges. They were giggling while taking steps back and forth, with Momo whining a bit.
"Beats me, I like it."
"Mm?”
"I like it when you're like that."
"When I'm jealous?"
"Mhm. Make me used to it."
"You've seen none of it yet."
"You want all my attention don't you?" Sana keeps the teasing grin, trying to catch Momo's eyes that sometimes darted downwards again.
"Who am I to ask?"
"You're Momo." She giggles at it. "That's enough for me.”
"Then I do want your attention. Just me.” Sana bites her lip. Momo was dragging her tongue on the inside of her curved lip. "Do those words account for anything?"
"Yes. But I prefer if we… shut up, instead." It was enough to run currents in Momo's brain, which is the mastermind that controlled her feet to run towards the car, dragging Sana and getting pushed to the backseat. Her skin was warm, and the citrus scent mixed with a taste of alcohol attacked her once again. Sana's lips were feathery-soft, causing her to be light-headed. Momo had all the liberty to touch—wander in places under the shadow of Sana's clothes. All hers.
A chemical reaction surged when whimpers of pleasure and impatience echoed in the car. Momo had parked it in the wrong spot, though, because a lot of people were passing by, catching a glance, yet looking away. But it didn't bother her anymore especially when Sana was all over her, straddling her in the back seat with a waist that fit her small hands perfectly.
Events quickly transpired into the things they wanted—but all they did want was a taste. Just a spark to keep them going, and it was all enough. They made out, fought tongues time and time until rest caught up to them. It was nothing more than the kisses and dangerous touches, but somehow, it was everything to satisfy them even without the sex.
Sana rested her head on Momo's shoulder this time, contrary to last night in the car where they had to leave their oasis and return to the band. Now though, they were comfortable in the queen-sized bed of Momo's room.
Sana had been fast asleep before her, so Momo kept tracing the bridge of Sana's nose up to her lips until it was dawn, believing she'd also fall asleep. But here she is, her mind honing an image of Sana, Sana, and only Sana—mouth parted and dry, creases of sleep all over her face, and the tiniest beads of sweat on her scalp.
No matter what Momo did to try and catch rest, her eyes kept running back to the sleeping woman. She can't get enough of the sight, the more Momo stared at her the more she was becoming enchanting. This… thing, though, she doesn't even know what it is, it was something definite but uncertain.
Nonetheless, the fact that she was there beneath Sana was enough to ground her hopes.
"Good morning." She gives a chaste kiss to the newly stretching girl. Her eyes were slowly working their way to consciousness. Once they did, a smile and a hoarse giggle filled the space between them.
"Hi Momo." Sana's hands were digging Momo's shirt into fists. She scrunches her nose, bites her own lip with gritted teeth, moving her face closer to Momo who then steals a kiss. "What do you do to me." A breathy whisper from Sana, one of both disbelief and amusement.
"What? Not used to being this mushy?”
"No. It's like I've always waited to know you."
"That's supposed to not make me scared, but it terrifies me more." Sana's brows nudge in question, "You know me now, Sana, but me, I want you to know me for a long time."
"It's not faith if you use your eyes."
Sana runs her fingers through Momo's blond locks, staring at it with such dew in her eyes as she fixes her fringe, "That's my Paramore lyric for you. Although all gut feeling has led us here, still, without past experience and tacit knowledge and shit—it's mostly the chances."
"Miracle?" Sana nods—not knowing if Momo knew the song or just the normal word. "Have I done much good fortune to you? I don't think so."
"Then you're doubting yourself, Momo." Her brows shot up, "A lot has been falling into place since you came. Especially with the band, we haven't had this much of a smooth course for Rise & Record over the years. Finding you was a miracle."
"Then I'm glad." Momo leans in for their foreheads to meet, and the tip of her nose slightly brushes into Sana's. "You'll make it someday, and we're starting with one step closer to your dream next month."
"We?" Sana asks in a low voice.
"I'll stick around even after my terms with the band. Well, unless you're just using me." Sana knew Momo meant the last thing as a joke, which had her giggling.
"I won't ask for promises, Momo. But it would definitely be nice to have you around.”
"Sana, I won't let you give up on that miracle.”
Notes:
If I could only put the whole song lyrics in here, lol. It's a good song of hope. Just like the way I have hope for SaMo. Let's see how it goes for them.
Happy new year, people! A little sweet update for you. :)
and also, Momo's new hair at Kouhaku is insane. She's so so pretty with her short hair.
Enjoy reading! And thank you for all the comments! Feel free to leave your thoughts and I'll do my best to reply to everyone. :)
Chapter Text
I've got a tight grip on reality but I can't let go of what's in front of me here
I know you're leaving in the morning when you wake up,
Leave me with some kind of proof it's not a dream.
It was dark. Sana only had a rechargeable lamp that spent the whole shift with her at the laundromat. Her paycheck coincidentally had to be delayed right when it's been three months since the electricity was due. She was planning to really pay this time, though, but surprise surprise and it's one of those days.
A lot of bills were due at the same time since it's almost the end of the month. It's been a nice call for her shift to end at midnight—Sana had no guts to face her soft-hearted landlady who'd be fast asleep by now due to age. She had no choice but to put Rise & Record first—the pay for their studio recording rentals, the pay for their producer, transportation in this economy, and really just something to eat to get through the days. It was a band effort anyway, and Sana didn't want to burden them whenever they offered to cover for her costs at times. So here she is—a lamp by the bathroom door to accompany her shower, ready for a fresh-
A sudden long ding—the doorbell setting off in the middle of the night.
Sana freezes, already wet and covered with soap suds. But she had to stop the water to pretend no one was there. Oh no not today, folks. With no plan to open the door, Sana tiptoes to take a peek at the small gap under the door. A minute with no follow-up sound, she walks closer. Her peephole had a cover, so Sana very delicately nudges it to the side, when,
“Sana?”
Holy shit.
An abrupt second and the woman was pulled into her unit as stealth as a spy, a mouth covering her to complete the criminal act.
“Don't scream!” She whisper-shouts, into the ears of the great and grand visitor—Momo.
“God! I thought it was gonna be the last of me.” Momo catches her breath the moment Sana releases her hold on her mouth, “You smell like shampoo.”
“I was taking a bath.” Sana rolls her eyes, “And how the hell did you find out where I live?”
“Because I've dropped you off a couple times already? Wait- why is it dark?”
“I meant my room number. Did you just knock on every door and say my name?”
“You sent me a picture a while back, you in your...” Momo spins her pointer finger at Sana's whole figure, “...undergarments. It had the unit number.”
“Like hell it did, Momo.” Sana walks back to the bathroom, removing her towel and turning on the showers. Momo followed after her, leaning on the door frame. Sana could feel a drilling stare on her back.
“So why is it dark?”
“I don't have electricity.” Her voice was muffled from both the running water and the acrylic partition between them.
“Oh? You want me to call someone to fix—”
“I can't afford the bill.”
“Oh, I- Sorry.” Momo's shoulders sag, her tone dropping low. Sana just shrugs it off with a laugh.
“So why are you here? Just to watch me shower?”
“No. But I'm not complaining.” Momo whistles teasingly, “It's the first time I saw you fully naked, you know.”
“Oh? I had no idea.” The water stopped. Sana was finishing up and asked Momo to hand her the towel. She did so while staying in place, careful not to cross any red line. But the careful action was so obvious that Sana giggled. “That's why you've been drooling there.”
“My mouth's not the only one dripping.”
“Oh you're so bad at dirty talk.” Sana walks out the bathroom with a towel wrapped around her. She brushes a finger on Momo's chin on the way out, like a spell that had the girl following after her, looking all hypnotized.
“I’m really sorry for the mess.” Sana said, her voice softer now, more serious, as she moved a few things around. She wasn’t really tidying—more like trying to create the illusion that she had been.
“Mm? Nothing’s wrong with it.”
“Give up the rose-colored glasses, Momo.” Sana's laugh followed, light and melodic, but it didn’t mask the bitterness that had slipped through. It wasn’t the same taunting laugh Momo was used to. It was quieter, as if Sana was caught off guard. To Momo, though, it didn’t matter. That laugh was harp music.
She didn’t reply right away, couldn’t, really, because her feet had unconsciously pulled her closer to Sana. The soft glow of the lone lamp in the bathroom door accented Sana's figure at its sides. The towel draped around her body slipped free in one smooth motion, revealing the rest of her skin, still damp and glistening from the shower.
Sana stood in front of the open drawer, pulling out clothes too slowly than she should. She was stalling, Momo realized. A taunting action.
And so Momo moved closer. Slowly. Carefully.
Sana stiffened just slightly at first, feeling the warmth of Momo's breath against her nape, the air gaining a particular heat. Goosebumps rose in an instant, crawling down Sana's spine and prickling her arms like tiny needles.
“Careful there,” Sana whispers, her voice dropping to something between a warning and a playful tease, “You’re making me—”
“Horny?” Momo chuckles.
“If you put it that way, I guess.” Sana finally turned around, her eyes meeting Momo's—but Momo's eyes were actually going a different, downward, path, “If someone with a body like this stood in front of me, I’d wanna do wonders to it, too.” Sana adds.
“Dangerous line,” Momo said, her voice firm, quiet, as her fingers found a strand of wet hair. She twisted it gently, watching how the water trailed down—past Sana's collarbone, following a line that her eyes couldn’t resist tracing.
“But you know I’d do anything to wait for a right time.” She adds, earning a teasing scoff from the woman.
“Huh. Your loss, coward.” Sana replied and quickly turned around, sending droplets from her hair splashing onto Momo's face. Sana laughed to herself, shaking her head at the absolute audacity. She turned back to the drawer, and Momo plopped down to the mattress on the floor.
“I couldn’t sleep.” Momo admitted, pulling off her socks and folding them neatly on the floor, “I wanted to be with you.”
“Well you should’ve just slept,” Sana says, “You have an exam tomorrow. You wouldn’t wanna fuck it up. You’re their smart chick, aren't you?”
“Eh. I studied already.”
Sana finally turned her back to face her, now clothed, pulling Momo up from the mattress, “Alright. But I’m changing these sheets first.”
Momo didn't protest, and instead wordlessly tucked the corners and smoothed the large fabric alongside Sana. When the bed was remade, Momo sat back down with another sigh, her shoulders falling just slightly.
“I’m afraid I’ll fuck it up this weekend.” The thing they'd been practicing for for more than a month—the long awaited Rise & Record now fast approaching. It feels like such short time, too unreal that it was putting too much pressure on her now. Momo knew it was a big deal for the band—for Sana.
“Hey,” Sana knelt in front of her, her hands finding Momo's face and cupping it gently. Her palms were cold, “No one’s fucking it up. We’ve still got practice on Thursday and Friday. We’re gonna burn asses, Momo.”
“But this just means so much to you.”
“And it means a lot to have you play for us. You have no idea.” Sana leaned forward, pressing a chaste kiss, and Momo couldn’t help the small smile that followed.
“We’ll make it out alive, yeah?” Sana added, throwing herself towards the bed.
They lay down together, the newly dressed mattress dipping slightly under their weight. The singular lamp cast long, soft shadows on the wall, their movements slow and unhurried. Sana pulled a fresh blanket over them, setting their bodies under a smaller space.
Momo turned sideways to face Sana, propping herself up with an elbow, her fingers lazily tracing invisible patterns on Sana's arm. The quiet wasn’t heavy—it was alive, filled with things they both knew but didn’t need to voice. Momo was studying Sana's features like she was trying to memorize every freckle, every curve.
“You’ve got that look on you again.” Sana teased, her voice warm from the slight hoarse.
“What look?”
"Focused. Calculated. Thinking too largely about things.” Momo chuckled in question, her hand moving to Sana's cheek this time. Her thumb brushing gently against her skin, and Sana had leaned into the touch instinctively.
“It’s hard not to. You’re a sight to take.”
Sana reached out to her own face, her fingers curling lightly around Momo's wrist. She opened her mouth to say something, but stopped, her lips quirking up a smile instead.
“What?” Momo asks, barely a whisper.
“Just… nothing. I was gonna say something corny, but you’d hold it against me, won't you?"
“Try me.”
Sana rolled her eyes, but her smile didn’t falter. “I was gonna say I feel… unwary. With you around.”
Momo's expression softened, her playful smirk fading into something more genuine—something more vulnerable. She leaned down, pressing her forehead lightly against Sana’s.
“You should. Don't put up your fences with me. You know that, right?”
“I do.” Sana's voice was quieter now, barely audible. She let out a small sigh, breath hitting Momo's face, “It's starting to get scary.”
Momo didn’t reply right away, maybe Sana's words were meant to be a light jab—a foolish joke that had such subtle intentions. She moved closer, her arm sliding around Sana's waist, pulling her in until there was no space left between their bodies. A coiling heat in her stomach formed from the way her frame felt so small under her arms.
“Don't be.” she murmured, low and gentle.
They stayed like that for a while, the silence settling over them again. Momo's fingers found Sana's, skimming through her knuckles, tracing all its wrinkles in the right places, like knowing it belonged to her even blindfolded.
“You know what I hate about you?” Sana says suddenly, her tone appearing peeved but laced with affection.
“Oh? This should be good.” Momo bit her lip into a smirk, her eyes never leaving Sana's.
“I hate how you look at me like that.”
“Like what?”
“Like that. Right now. That.” Sana taps her collarbone with a finger.
“What on hell does that supposed to mean?" Momo chuckled, a soft sound that filling their tiny space. The question hung, but she had a gist.
“You’re ridiculous.”
“Do you like it?"
Sana rolled her eyes. She reached up, fingers brushing against Momo's jaw, lingering on such flawless skin, trying to trace her faint blemishes but forming merely an Equuleus. Not knowing where else to land, Sana's touch starts gracing Momo's lips—the tip of her index dragging the dried out surface. Momo places but a light kiss on her fingertip, the sudden response causing Sana to turn breathless.
“Painfully much, Momo."
Momo pressed a kiss on the side of her forehead, down to her cheek, and to the corner of her mouth.
“You fall right into place.” Sana whispers, her voice tinged with awe, like she still couldn’t believe it.
“It's impossible not to fall fast like this.” Momo says, immediate and certain.
They stayed tangled together, whispering sweet nothings. Sana talks about how she imagined singing on a beach someday, with crabs as the audience, and how they'll grill and eat them after. Momo murmured something about setting up a stage to sing lullabies to Norwich Terriers, which sent them into a fit of giggles. Such trivial surrealism, yet it made more sense to them than any scholar's note.
At some point, their words faded into sleepy murmurs, their touches slowing as exhaustion began to settle over them. Momo's hand rested against Sana's back. The latter's head tucked against her neck, her breathing steady and calm.
“Stay." Sana mumbled against her skin, half-asleep.
“I’m not going anywhere.” Momo says, her voice soft but steady.
It was a cold night, Sana kept apologizing mindlessly, but Momo didn't mind as they nestled into each other's warmth. And it wasn't long until they drifted into oblivion.
The air was electric with loud pulses and bangs, it seeped into the bones of every person milling about the flat grass field of the festival. Tents and stages were standing and being set up, the smell of freshly churned mud from rugged shoes and boots, and the heavenly scent of street food lingered in the crisp afternoon air.
A lot of familiar faces. The music underground has been home to so many—those who rose to fame, those who stayed on humble roots, those who came to try but were meant for different greater things—it’s all there. And for Canary Yellow, the moment hit large and breathtaking. They’ve been in Rise & Record every year for the past three years, but somehow, every year was a new feeling of hope where dreams could blossom into tangible realities—even if it mostly crumbled under the weight of unmet expectations. Nonetheless, it stems from the love and dedication for their craft more than anything else.
In their shared tent of a green room, the atmosphere was thick with unspoken fears and nervous energy. Chaeyoung sat on the couch, plucking the strings of her unplugged guitar while spacing out, her fingers betraying the steady riff she’d practiced for months.
“Anyone else feel like throwing up? Or is it just me?” She asks.
“Not helping." Tzuyu gave her a sharp look. She was already pacing the tent back and forth, “We’re on in two hours. Anyone found Sana yet?” Everyone instantly looked at Momo, who hung her jaw and just shrugged.
“She called me thirty minutes ago." Jihyo butts in instead, scrolling furiously through her phone. “She couldn't leave her apartment. The people are there. She said she's doing her best to make a way out.”
“What?” Tzuyu stopped her tracks. “But she was supposed to be here an hour ago.”
“Hey, you know how it is with Sana. You know what happened last time.” Jeongyeon butted in.
“What happened last time?” Momo suddenly asks.
“Uh… I don't know if we can say it.” Jeongyeon hangs in the air. “I think it's best to have her tell you. Might be too personal.” Momo nodded, not pushing it any further. Although she did text Sana if she was okay, no reply.
“Terrible timing.” Chaeyoung shrugs.
“I called her again,” Jihyo said. “I think she’s trying to get a quick ride now, it wasn't clear, she said not to call again for a while."
“Worst-case, let's just stall. Let Chaeyoung play a riff or something. We hold the crowd until—”
A loud knock interrupted Tzuyu, and everyone froze.
But of course it wasn’t Sana. It's a stagehead with a clipboard. “You’re up in an hour. Need to check your setup soon.” The person gave Momo a look, almost unnoticeable with the way her body trembled at the thought of Sana. She didn't have much time to check if she knew the guy, or maybe, she was just seeing things.
“Okay, thank you.” Jihyo said through clenched teeth, forcing a smile. The tent closed, leaving them all in tense silence.
“She’ll make it." Chaeyoung said softly, reassuring them, though her hands fidgeted with the chains of her shirt.
“She better." Tzuyu muttered, staring at the clock. But amidst their words, Momo was digging her nails on the calluses of her fingers. She had been texting Sana—who had told her earlier not to pick her up and just go straight to Rise & Record after her class. But now, she isn't answering her messages at all. It made her think of the worst things.
“Thirty minutes, guys.” Jihyo slowly and forebodingly speaks into existence. “No update from Sana. What do we do?”
“I'll drive to her place.”
“Momo, we can't have both the singer and the bassist away.” She sits right back down. Jihyo checks her phone like she does every two seconds, waiting for a response. Her body suddenly jolts from a vibration.
“Who is it? Is it Sana?” Jeongyeon stands.
“No, just a random caller. But I'll have to answer. Be back in a bit.” Jihyo leaves the tent. And they were once again left on the edge.
“Momo, no update?”
“No.” Her shoulders were starting to get heavy. It sinks in that she should've just picked up Sana no matter the stubbornness of the girl. It shouldn't have been a problem. It would most probably fit with the last hour of her class. Momo had an idea how to sneak out without her professor ever batting an eye, but of course, Sana wasn't gonna let her.
“Shit!”
“Jihyo? What is it?” The scene caused all of them to stand up the moment Jihyo comes rushing back in the tent with panic all over her. Tzuyu was clenching hard into her drumsticks as if wanting to just break it. Chaeyoung was fiddling with the chains on her outfit that caused a harsh dangling sound in the air. Jeongyeon ran closer to Jihyo, ready to just shake the words out of her.
There was a huge hitch on Momo's breath. Her eyes were tainted with mist that put her view into a haze. She registered clearly the way Jihyo's face shook, her mouth opening and closing as if trying to form words—killing every bit of Momo, fucking with her head.
“It's… Sana.”
Jihyo said, her voice thin and out of breath.
“She just— she was arrested.”
The words were a dagger in Momo's chest.
Arrested?
Notes:
I am so sorry.......
I believe a lot more people know this song, so you can also get a gist of the surface I was working with while writing this chapter. I also took inspiration from the Twice Christmas video where Momo guesses Sana's hand blindfolded (iykyk). Just a small grain to spot in the story. All of these make this one of my favorite chapters so far—before the growing mess and all.
Arrested? Really? What have you done, Sana...
And to that, the next update is on the weekend! I appreciate everyone leaving their kudos and thoughts in the comments. Happy reading!
Chapter Text
You say, “We gotta look at the bright side”
I say, “Well, maybe if you wanna go blind.”
“It's… Sana.”
Jihyo said, her voice thin and out of breath.
“She just— she was arrested.”
The words hung in Momo's chest.
Arrested?
Her vision narrowed, and the air in the room seemed to vanish in an instant. Jihyo was babbling muted words, Jeongyeon's hands flying all over to grab their things, Tzuyu pacing with hands on her head, Chaeyoung staring in shock—all the sound was gone, replaced by the dull thud of Momo's chest.
“Momo!” Jihyo's voice broke through the fog, sharp and urgent. “We have to go! Now!”
The ride to the police station was a blur of red lights and tight air. Jihyo was on the phone, her voice sharp and commanding as she talked to who-knows-who. Tzuyu was cursing under her breath.
“Fuck. Don't get us arrested too.” Chaeyoung was in the passenger seat, next to Momo who was rushing, beating a red light, and gripping the steering wheel so tightly her knuckles turned white.
It was all discordant chaos to Momo. Her lungs felt like they were shrinking with every breath, her hands trembling with every turn of the wheel. She wanted to scream, to cry, to demand answers. But most importantly, to know if Sana was okay.
“She’ll be okay.” Chaeyoung said softly, as if reading her thoughts.
“What if she’s not?” Teeth sinking into each other.
And no one had an answer.
The station smelled of stale coffee and disinfectant, its fluorescent lights harsh on the eyes.
Sana stepped out into the white-washed lobby, her heart still pounding from the hours she’d spent in the back room. The cold metal chair, the indifferent stares of the officers, the endless stream of questions—all of it lingered in her bones like a bad dream she couldn’t shake.
The band was huddled near the desk, looking equally tense and exhausted. A light sense of relief hit Sana, though it was tinged with guilt, confusion, and overall gloom. She just couldn't shake the feeling and all the questions in her head.
“Sana!” Jihyo was the first to notice her, springing to her feet to hug her.
The others followed with tight and teary hugs, no words being spoken yet. But Sana couldn't help but notice—Momo wasn't there.
“You scared the shit out of us.” Chaeyoung breathed, breaking the momentous silence.
“I’m sorry.” Sana murmured, her voice barely audible, a blurry haze forming on her sight.
“Hey, it's not your fault, Sana.” Jihyo’s sharp and concerned eyes scanned her face, running a gentle hand up her cheek, “Are you okay?”
Sana nodded, though she wasn’t sure it was true.
“If I catch those assholes…”
“Jeong,” Sana calls over to the hissing, obviously angered woman, “It’s okay. I don't know how you managed to get me out but, for now it's okay.”
“Momo, she got you a lawyer.” Tzuyu said, hesitating a bit. Sana froze.
“What?”
“She insisted on it,” Jihyo said, “She didn't even hesitate. Said she got the costs covered already.”
Sana's chest tightened, and for a moment, she couldn’t breathe. Momo wasn’t here—why wasn’t she here?
Her voice was quiet when she finally spoke. “Why did she—"
“She wanted to." Tzuyu chimes in, “She’s outside, in the car.”
“Sana!”
Momo gave her a tight hug. Sana just froze on the last step of the police station stairs.
“I'm so worried. Are you okay? Let's go home.” She said in all one pace. Sana, however, was still unmoving.
The rest of the band went their separate ways, silently yet knowingly insisting on giving the two their space. The car rumbled softly beneath them as Momo started the car, the hum of the engine being the only sound as Sana wasn't saying anything. Paradoxically, it was defeaning.
Momo caught a few glances at Sana, who was just staring out the window—her reflection fractured in the passing streetlights, her face tight with something Momo couldn't put together. Momo took a slow breath, reading the air a final time before speaking,
“I read the documents." she says carefully, voice breaking the quiet like an arbitrary droplet on still water.
“You did what?” Sana's head snapped toward her, her wide eyes in panic.
“The arrest papers,” Momo says lowly, “I asked Jihyo for it while you were being processed.” She hesitated, occasionally searching Sana's face for a reaction. “I wanted to understand, Sana. I saw the key money fraud details."
“It's not what you think, and I didn't allow you to peer into that anyway.” Sana’s tone unreadable, but her voice was clipped.
“Hey, it’s okay. I’m not judging you. I just- I thought I could maybe help.” Momo's voice was gentle, albeit trying to pierce through Sana's wall.
Sana just huffs.
“Sana, I understand. You didn’t know what you were sinking into. I managed to talk it out with the lawyer, she'll take care of everything.” Sana exhaled sharply, her shoulders slumping.
“Why didn’t you go to the police?” Momo asks.
“No resources for that.” Sana sighed. “And what do I even say? I thought it would just blow over. It did, everyone forgot, until it didn’t. They found me again somehow, just a few weeks ago.” Sana trailed off, still staring at the window.
“Why didn't you tell me anything? You’ve been carrying this all by yourself.”
Sana chuckles. “Tell you? Dragging you into my mess?”
“I’m already in this with you, Sana.”
“In what?”
“Just… with you.” Sana didn’t respond. Gently, Momo reached out to her, her fingers brushing against Sana's. But she pulls hers away.
Momo nodded to herself, withdrawing her hand slowly. “I... understand,” she said quietly. “It’s been a rough night.”
“That’s putting it lightly.” Sana murmured, her voice laced with bitterness. She leaned her head against the window, closing her eyes, blocking everything else. The car rolled on in silence, the city lights blurring past them in the silent car ride back to Momo's apartment.
It had been a week of Sana faltering.
Momo could feel the days bleeding into each other like a wound that refused to clot. No matter how much she tried to soothe Sana’s pain—whether through reassurances about the lawyer handling the case, the meals she prepared, or simply her presence—it felt like everything slid off Sana’s surface without making a dent.
The woman who once filled every room with her boldness and sly confidence now rotted silently in Momo’s flat, confined to the bed or aimlessly pacing. She was undoing, unmade, like merely a shadow of a person. It wasn’t Sana’s silence that concerned her—it was the emptiness in her eyes, the way she never cried, never screamed, never asked for help. She just existed, haunting the spaces like that.
Every night after Momo came home from university, she would sit by the edge of the bed and try to talk. “Do you want to watch something? Or… I don’t know. I could drive you somewhere? We could go for a walk? Just around the block?”
The answers were always the same. “I’m good.” “Not in the mood." "Maybe later.”
Momo didn’t once believe it.
She took to sleeping on the couch, giving Sana her space. She thought maybe the solitude would help, but all it did was make Momo feel lonelier. She realizes it was harder than hearing Sana cry. Just walking around with a frail Sana around, either lying on the bed with eyes wide open, or using the bathroom with half the door closed. Momo didn't bother to cross it. It's what played in her mind every time she drifted asleep on the dining table, hands full of research drafts.
The night Momo stayed late at university, she made a point of texting Sana several times. No responses, just the blue checkmarks that showed Sana read them.
When she returned home, the apartment felt unnaturally still. The air was heavy, and a faint hum from the refrigerator seemed louder than usual. Momo’s chest tightened as she set her bag on the counter and called out.
“Sana?” No answer.
Her heart thudded louder. She tried again, this time knocking on the door. “Sana? I’m coming in.”
But the room was empty. The bed was unmade, and Sana wasn’t there. Momo’s pulse raced as she pushed open the bathroom door, half-hoping to find Sana brushing her teeth or washing her face. Nothing.
“Sana? Sana, this isn’t funny!” Momo darted around the space, her voice rising with every call.
She got her keys, quickly put on her shoes again with the laces loose. She ran to the door, opening it immediately-
But to her surprise, Sana was outside. And without a sound or even a look, she stepped in, her movements slow and unsteady. Momo froze, relief crashing into her like a wave, She immediately puts her hands on both her arms and scans her body. Momo could immediately catch the reeking alcohol scent, but she brushed it off in a second, because what did it matter anyway? She's here now.
“I was so worried-” But Momo's heart sinks into a standing pile of needles, the moment she sees fresh red smudged marks on Sana's neck—lipstick?
“Sana, what happened? Who—”
“It’s none of your business.”
“What?” Momo’s voice cracked, her exhaustion and fear boiling into something desperate. “The first time you say anything all week, and it’s this? You don’t even explain? What—what were you doing? Who were you with?”
Sana pulled her arm free, her expression flat. “Does it matter? I’m not staying here anyway.”
“What do you mean you’re not staying?”
“I said I’m leaving.” Sana’s tone was icy, final.
"What?” Momo ran her hands through her hair, tugging at the roots like the pain might help her understand. “Sana, I understand that you're frustrated about Rise & Record. I know it's not how it should've turned out, but bear it with me, please? We'll make it work for another year. But now just… I don't know. But I don't think it should be like this.”
“It's easy for you to say." Sana’s voice was sharper now, her words cutting through Momo’s pleas. “You've got something going ahead of you. You're studying, being able to do lucrative shit for your life. And me? I'm stuck in a rut again for a whole fucking year! I got fired from smashing dirty laundry into fucking mechanical boxes! And I'll have to pack up my things at the apartment I'm staying at again, and I have to stay at Jeongyeon's place again and it's burdensome! You know how that feels?”
"Sana, you're staying here with me." Momo's tone was trying its best to calm down the seething flames in Sana's, “I might not understand completely, but you’re not a lost cause. You can get back on your feet. You always have.” Momo’s voice trembled, her hands reaching out like she could physically hold Sana back from slipping away.
“I've been resting in the dirt for a long while now, Momo. I'm not getting any younger." Sana's voice was bitter, wiping a tear that didn't even get a chance to roll down her eye. "This is me—I plummet, my life collapses, and I sabotage myself. I sleep around, I drink, I sing for the same five people hoping things will change—but no, Momo! It doesn't!”
“But where am I in that whole picture? I thought we understood that things will start changing now- now that I’m here.” Momo's voice quivered, her eyes searching Sana's face for even a flicker of the woman she knew.
“Oh?” Sana huffed, her breath sharp and dismissive. Momo's chest tightened as her vision blurred, Sana turning into someone so indifferent, “You have a lot ahead of you, Momo. Don’t think you won’t turn out like shit too if you have a big baby like me weighing on your shoulders.”
“Since when did we see it like that?” Momo's voice cracked, her words trembling with disbelief.
“Since now!” Sana snapped, “In a month, you wouldn’t know where to put me! I’ll be staying in your place doing nothing, plaguing your allowance that your parents give you.”
“That’s my decision.”
“And what do you decide after that?” Sana's tone turned colder, harsher, “You’ll be stuck with a rat you can’t kill. I don’t even eat what you cook and you just let it rot in the fridge. Until when can you take that bullshit, Momo?”
“I don’t give a shit! God!” Momo's hands flew to her head, pulling at her hair as if the pressure would stop the spinning. “All I care is that you’re safe here! Not getting arrested and shit!”
Sana laughed, hollow, humorless.
“I didn’t oblige you to do anything for me. You don't just take your place and fix my mess.”
“Well- You-!” Momo groaned, her frustration mounting into a wave of helplessness, "You needed the help, and I'm happy to be the one to do it, okay! Can’t you at least try and not… put up your fences this time?"
“Try what?” Sana's voice was sharp enough to cut, not even looking towards the girl, “Give it up, Momo.”
Sana heads to her bags, the one by the television in the living area that stored most of her things, and she starts to shuffle with the mess around it. Momo chokes on the forming lump on her throat, and upon regained consciousness, she suddenly rushes to Sana in panic after seconds of being glued in place.
“Hey? Sana? What are you doing?” Momo stumbled over her words, rushing to the girl. Her trembling hands reached for Sana's.
“I told you, you don’t have to take me in anymore. I’m leaving.”
“Hey, no, please!” Momo's voice cracked, desperation dripping from every word, “I’m sorry for lashing out. It’s okay, I'm not gonna say anything about it. Just- just stay here.”
“You’re pitiful.” Sana stopped, turning to face Momo with strained, cold eyes, “Won’t you look at yourself?”
“Please.” Momo's grip on her wrist tightened, her voice a whisper of raw, pleading emotion, “This shouldn’t be the way of things, Sana.”
“Then how?” Sana wrenched her hand away, her movements brisk as she returned to packing.
“Pushing yourself away, it's not a wise decision.”
“You don’t know my decisions, Momo.”
“But it's clearly a bad one.”
“So you’re the good decision now? What makes you so confident?” Sana's gaze cut into hers like a blade. Words caught in Momo's throat, her mouth opening and closing without sound, "We’re not even together. I’m not your girlfriend.” The words fell with such weight.
“If I have to, then can you be?” Momo's voice broke.
Sana laughed, harsh and mocking, the sound causing Momo to stand frozen, a tear trickling down her cheek down to her chin. But Sana just kept laughing.
“You’re seriously asking me now?” Sana scoffed, sarcasm all over, “You really have an interesting way of things, Momo.”
“I don’t know,” It came out as a whisper, “I don’t want to lose you.”
“I’ve lost myself.” The flame that was once in Sana's voice was gone now, replaced with a downcast whisper, “You’ll get over me. We’ve known each other for like, two months.”
“Why are you doing this to me, Sana?” Momo's words were stripped of coherence. Red-rimmed eyes glistening, face crumpling from the tears all over, causing the quivering creases in her mouth.
"Don't hate yourself for it." Sana finished packing her things that weren't even that much unpacked, her expression betrayed no emotion as she zipped up the bag. Momo tried grabbing her hand but Sana was vigorously pushing it away. She couldn't keep her cries silent. But Sana was unfazed.
Her white long-sleeved shirt was pulled by the wind and creased by the seconds it went further and further to the door. Momo was motionless, her head falling down with tears she couldn't control, her hiccupped sobs filling the room. It was just her and the woman who would be gone by now—she didn't know after Momo muted all sounds of the door slamming shut because it was too hard to bear. Lifting her feet felt harder, as her cries had started choking and holding onto her neck that it crippled her until she fell.
“Sana,” Momo calls with just a wisp between her cries, the word slipping from her lips like a prayer, a plea, a curse, in hopes it was just a bad dream, or a bad joke.
But it was still all too real,
Three years later.
Notes:
Again, I am so sorry.....
Time to edit the tags now—a hugeee time skip on the next chapter.
Update in a day again (this was supposed to be posted yesterday but I got sick). Let me know your thoughts! Sorry if it feels rushed, but do put your trust in me. There is definitely more to come in the next chapters, and a lot more holes to fill throughout the story. We'll get there soon! I'll also make sure to take note of any suggestions. And again, thank you so much for the continued support!
Happy reading! A new era coming. :)
Chapter Text
And they say that dreaming is free,
But I wouldn't care what it cost me
Three years later.
“This is a good one, I promise this time.”
“No way I'm falling for your shit. Let's just order Domino's.”
“I swear! If you don't end up liking it then I'll pay for everything.”
“Everything? And our food for the next week?”
“Rot in hell, will you?” Chaeyoung was pouting, and the rest of the room was a laughing mess. “Sana, what do you think?”
Sana, now just getting finished up by the stylist, just shrugged with a teasing laugh.
“Yeji, you?” They turn to Yeji, Canary Yellow's newest, official bassist. She was a young soul, a new sessionist that just appeared in the indie scene when they found her, and eventually adopted her.
“I'm good with that. But do prepare your card.”
Once again, another groan from Chaeyoung. She was recommending another restaurant to the band to order from—which her recommendations have failed them a lot of times now. They've been in different cities for the week, attending—or better yet—headlining shows and festivals. It was a lot of work, which ultimately demands them to fill their stomachs with whatever works in the area. They had no choice but to believe Chaeyoung every time she told them that the food from some place will be good, but she didn't even bother to check how the reviews were all curses and complaints. She was the type to drool from photos, they should've known better.
A knock on their door had them pausing all the bickering. Jihyo went to open, and that's when two people with a large camera and a mic showed up, talking inaudible to their manager.
“It's the press from Studio Live, guys. Get ready for an interview.” The band gives their bright smiles, polite bows, and firm handshakes to the two staff that approached them in their seats. The setup in their green room was a bit of a haste, but they welcomed them to an interview anyway—to no harm would a few minutes cost.
After the whole spotlight, they once again gave thanks to each other before leaving the room. It was like that all the time, whether it be in their waiting room or backstage, press people want a few words and questions answered about the band.
A few more moments of the rush and it was time for them to go up on stage. They did their ritual prayers and their huddle. The cheers were deafening enough from their spot behind the stage, but having the lights off and on again with the first hit of Tzuyu's drums, had the crowd go berserk in a frenzy of screams that even pierced through the loud instrumental intro they were playing.
Sana was hyping up the crowd along with Jeongyeon, as Chaeyoung was shredding the very well-known riff to their song. Even the crowd was singing along to the plain guitar sounds. No amount of Sana's lustrous makeup was brighter than the forthright smiles of the people, and it gave her more energy to jump around and get loose on stage.
She hit her first note, a powerful line repeating their bridge that amplified the screams, until Sana and the band paused—a momentous silence. Yet it wasn't long until Tzuyu started counting on the sticks again, and the real song started. The crowd went crazy over the drop, and they started singing along, with Sana pointing her mic to them from time to time. She couldn't go this crazy with her voice on their recordings, so playing live was a magnetic field for her to go wild on her throat.
There were roughly fifty-thousand people in the festival grounds, all jumping, cheering, and putting their phone lights on to the beating sound of their music.
It was the dream.
“How pretty are we feelin’ tonight?” The crowd goes wild over Sana's low and slightly breathless voice after the first song ends, “Hey everyone! We're Canary Yellow! And are you ready to make this night ours?"
The rest of it was filled with an unbeatable gravity that pulled both the band and the people together in pure bliss. Another run of a good set that concluded the whole festival, and Canary Yellow stayed a bit on the stage for a photo op and the throwing of signed shirts to the crowd. The energy never faltered until it was time for them to close the curtains. Smiles and congratulations from them and the staff went on back stage, a good ender for the adrenaline.
“Amazing, children.” Jihyo was waiting for them right in their green room, with the smell of freshly ordered pizza going under their noses.
“I think we have fans outside, we'll eat later.” Jeongyeon taps Jihyo on the shoulder. The latter only smiles, letting them out without a word. The moment they exited their room—which is a huge tent on the backstage within the barricades, about just twenty people were gathered on the railings, shrieking in excitement as they waved at the band.
“Tzuyu! Please hit me with your drumsticks!” The woman laughs, saying it's a hard request. The band teases her about it in front of the fans. There were a few gifts and letters being handed to them, and a lot asking for pictures. With just a few begging, they were allowed by the security to enter the other side of the barricade, which overjoyed the small group of fans that they knew had been waiting since the set finished, even if it was past the service of the buses and subways in the area.
It was worth it, especially how they were respectful about the space. Jeongyeon ran back to their room to bring out an acoustic guitar after a fan requested Sana to sing her favorite Paramore song. It was an offer she couldn't deny.
Sana was shy about it, especially when Jeongyeon gave her the guitar instead of playing it herself, which caused a lot of cheers that Jeongyeon asked to tone down a little in a playful smile. Tzuyu, on the contrary, was encouraging the noise. The laughter died down when Sana started to pluck in the key of D. Such a mellow refrain that rang the bell for them of what the song was…
26.
It used to not be Sana's favorite Paramore song from the diverse catalogue of their artistic opus, but it ended up resonating with her the most from these past few years.
“Hold on to hope if you got it, don't let it go for nobody.”
Sana remembers years ago of dread. She was in fact twenty-six when a lot of terrible eventful things took place. Now being months before thirty, she thinks back into a good deal of her life that she's been losing hope—at twenty-six, an age where a lot has crumbled down. But now, just a few years later, it's what keeps her grounded.
They never landed a deal with Rise & Record. But what they didn't know at the time, is that the same old beat-up bar where they often held gigs was where they'd eventually get scouted by a drunk intern who fell in love with their music—his words. He put front Canary Yellow’s name up the eyes of the music label he was working for, and it all fell into place after a contract, and getting to perform for two major acts under a month.
He remains a good friend—Seungcheol—but most importantly, he's their manager alongside Jihyo.
Jihyo, on the other hand, found a way of sticking with the band and being their official road manager. It was a loophole after all—of quitting her job that time and applying for the same label that took Canary Yellow in—Seungcheol was their backup.
The success followed after as a landslide—releasing songs here and there, guesting for the most popular mainstream artists, getting their sound on the radio and on top charts in the country, hearing their own music on play on public transportation and out the mouths of university students walking near Jihyo's garage, until eventually acquiring more listeners-turned-fans, and headlining for major festivals, such as this one.
“And they say that dreaming is free, but I wouldn't care what it cost me,”
Sana grinned, timid and sweet. She earned the most intimate claps of the night, far from their set earlier that boomed past her IEMs.
When it was the time to go back, Sana secretly slid cash into the hands of young high schoolers, saying to use it for their ride home and maybe a bit of takeout. The protests didn't reach her when they had to run back to the tent, which sparked the joy in her eyes even more. It was a small token for how they'd put up the band's success.
The screeching of the tires was the first thing that harassed the fresh morning of Sana's ears. It was Jeongyeon, parking unevenly on the curb, exiting her SUV looking all proud with her boots on the concrete. She just bought her car a year ago, and learned how to drive right after, but they always thought she got too excited that until now she parks like a four-year old.
“Let's go! We're late!”
“We're gonna be thirty minutes early when we arrive.” Sana catches the smell of cigarettes on the woman, and she wishes the car doesn't smell the same. It was a thing her friend acquired just recently—not to Sana's good judgement, though—but for now she's letting her do what she wants after her recent, long-overdue split with Nayeon. Comic Replica wasn't falling behind their fame, so it was hard to keep Jeongyeon away from the posters of the girl's face plastered all around. Sana knew she needed an outlet.
Thankfully, the car smelled like citrus air freshener.
“Hey, wher've you been?” Seungcheol picks the two up from the building entrance, standing there like a statue, looking too much like a corporate man on break—white dress shirt leaving two buttons open, slim-fit slacks, a corporate ID hanging on his neck—he was so contrary to Jihyo who wore her huge crust punk pants no matter the occasion.
“We're thirty minutes early?” Sana proves right every time.
“But the team from Forge is already here. I told you to come earlier.”
“Oh? Aren't they much in a rush?” Jeongyeon says, walking with them to the elevator.
“This is a huge deal we got here, landing them in.” Seungcheol was right. Forge Productions was the top contender for stage production, a specialist in making stages and light direction worldwide that had small to zero danger risks. With Canary Yellow's first large-scale tour, they struck it lucky.
“A big one in the family holders of the Forge group came in person to meet the band.”
“Oh? For all that trouble, they must be a fan.” Sana quips. The elevator door opens to their floor.
“It was a good thing the people from Forge are still doing business kinks with the higher ups.” Seungcheol reports as they open the door to see the band in the meeting room showing good suits.
They stayed in the meeting room—the whole band, Seungcheol, and Jihyo. They used the time to list down possible suggestions for the tour. The details, even to the tiniest, were all good starters to be raised with the staff from Forge. It was better to think ahead. Who knows if they just malfunction on the spot once the Forge people arrive? An upfront proposal is the wise move.
“Can we do interactive floors? Like, depending on the beat of the song, or when I—or you guys move around the stage?” Tzuyu suggests.
“It's good, yeah, we should just make sure the strobe effects don't mess up what the audience sees of us. Let's ask the team from Forge.” Jihyo responds.
“Can we do long vertical LED lights? Also ambient clouds for the backdrop, I think it'll look sick.” Chaeyoung was showing Jihyo her pegs from Pinterest and the latter took notes of it too.
“Yeah, okay, it would look good on theme, but let's change this aspect to-”
Jihyo's trace of words gets interrupted by a knock on the door. She was fast to stand up, along with Seungcheol. They were signaling the band to prepare themselves.
There was an unmistakable churning in Sana's stomach. This was going to be their first tour. It meant the world to her and to the band. It was like she was one-step closer again to another dream, even if she was already living in one right now. The past two years of Canary Yellow have been more than she thought she'd ever achieve in this short lifespan.
Forge was another thing. She grew up in the underground music scene looking at stages from international artists being designed by companies like them, TAIT, Live Nation, and the likes. It was always far from the usual fixed stage in the bar made of old, chipping wood—which really didn't matter at the time if they were playing on just carpets. But it was always good to hold onto that dream production set.
The doors swung open after Jihyo went near, and the production team appeared in a wave of authority—their tailored suits and confident strides filling the room with an undeniable presence.
But it was a figure just behind them that made Jihyo's breath hitch, a widely noticeable volume that shifted the band's gaze to the door. Jihyo's composure cracked for the briefest of moments, her mouth parting in unspoken shock, but it wasn't just her,
Definitely not just her.
Is that...
“Momo?”
Notes:
Almost forgot that I had to post this chapter today, lol. I'm so sorry for the wait. Although I am back in uni, rest assured that updates will stay consistent (since I'm only down to editing the drafts of all chapters). The next update will be on the beginning of the weekend. I'll be replying to all the comments later, but I have read them (devil's laugh).
I'm always thankful to all these reactions, kudos, and silent reads. You've all made my SaMo author dreams come true. :)
I'm sure there's a lot more questions about the band's rise to fame—and the events after the arrest. I'll be giving you the surface for now through this chapter.
And again, happy reading!
Chapter Text
I could follow you to the beginning,
Just to relive the start
And maybe then we'd remember to slow down,
At all our favorite parts.
Momo immediately faltered, slapping a hand up on the wall in the dead-spaced building alley to support herself. Ragged breathing had filled her ears when it all started to blur out.
Three. fucking. years.
And it's as if it was just a week ago. Momo can't trust herself enough to pull a straight face in front of that woman, because seeing her in the flesh for a short moment instead of just in fragmented pieces of her memory had her already fisting her hair as she sat on a random floor. She didn't bother to think how stupid she looked if anyone would've seen her. All that's on her mind was how she caught a glimpse of that woman on her way to the restroom of this damn building. And it further dawned to her when her staff mentioned Canary Yellow.
She knew she would eventually cross paths with Sana whether she likes it or not—the band was gaining large traction over the past years, making it tormenting for Momo to forget about the way she smelled, and her touch—those shitty billboard ads—a persecution. She tries blocking the band on her personal platforms and clicking ‘not interested’ in all her ad personalization settings. But, it somehow keeps finding her—through the car radio, through cafes blasting their songs once she plugs her laptop in a socket, through a fucking lemon-flavored metabolism drink with their faces plastered on, and the people at work playing their music in the early morning—it made her agitated.
If it wasn't too fateful, she wouldn't have been in this situation for three plaguing years.
Momo saw Tzuyu at their university snack lounge that night. She was feeling a lot of pressure from focusing on nothing else but school. Maybe a revel bar and stale brewed coffee would provide her a bit of a fix. It wasn't usually like her to focus too much on one thing, let alone her academics when it usually wasn't this exhausting. Momo wanted to do a lot of things, it gets her out of the rut. But writing a thesis paper with such mindset was the worst thing to happen at the moment.
So when Tzuyu small talks her, she had a gist. They've never really exchanged much words—nor a corner-eye glance when they bumped into each other. The only time they ever did was because they became groupmates in a language class for a short while, that they had no choice but to interact.
Tzuyu suddenly asks her if she played any instrument, but she was surprisingly natural with the small talk that the question comfortably rolled into the conversation.
"Oh… I... play the bass, just a bit. Sometimes.”
"Oh!" Tzuyu cheers, but withdraws the strong reaction in a second, realizing the atmosphere of the place was too toned down. "Do you maybe want to audition for our band? Don't worry, though! It's not a long time thing. We're just getting ready for this competition."
Momo had been struck with an inquisitiveness. There was a jolt of something prompting her to just go for it instead of drowning in her computer doing nothing but doom scroll on JSTOR.
And that's when she first saw Sana.
She had checked out Tzuyu's band way before, when the latter sent a streaming link to promote their new single when they were still in the same class as groupmates.
Momo always wondered who it was behind the voice. Because whoever spewed out those words sounded heavensent. But it was such a trivial pursuit that it slipped her mind before she'd even touch her phone to look it up.
But seeing her in person, she was definitely heavensent in all ways too.
Momo, in the back of her head, knew she'd make a move on Sana, especially when the gears on her visual cortex started rolling a film strip of fake scenarios. But with all the times that same experience turned into catastrophe in the past, Momo knew better than to try things with a pretty girl.
So she made every excuse possible, saying it wouldn't fit her schedule. She can't focus while having a stupid obsession—it was not even a hobby obsession, but a person obsession. She only wanted a pull out of the rut so she auditioned, but this will be a deeper hole she'd sink into if she doesn't get out immediately. Pretty girls. And their vocalist really had to be one, huh?
But seeing Sana outside her apartment was the last straw. She knew she had to be close to her. She was a bit... weird... intense, to say the least. Nonetheless, it was a fucking crush—eventually leading to a series of events that still has her picking up all the pieces three years later.
Momo wanted to make an excuse. She's never been unprofessional in her work, but maybe today was the day she'd break that streak. It was tempting, especially with every footstep closer to the supposed meeting room, and the staff saying that the band was there, waiting.
She pulled down the cuffs of her coat, fixing the sized shoulder of the fabric. Thank heavens she wore something more decent than her 2-day unwashed dress shirt today, maybe it would help in hiding the occasional quivering of her arms, or her disfiguring strut.
So when her staff opened the door…
"Momo?"
A fresh face of years without a sight. Jihyo had her mouth gaping open while being stuck in place. It was Momo's prelude to laugh a little, an enticing facade she knew to give from countless of meetings and conferences she had to show up to. She bows at them, looking only towards Jihyo at the moment who funnily had the hanging jaw still fastened.
"Jihyo." A smile slowly forming on both their faces. She felt a feeling of longing about the band as well. They grew a natural bond. Not showing up for the last three years was something she didn't want entirely. But circumstances call.
Jeongyeon rushed, weirdly so, she bowed repeatedly. Chaeyoung followed after, their actions cutting through the small crowd of staff, Momo laughs, telling them the formality is not needed.
“Oh- we- I-” Jihyo was stumbling with her words, her hand actions all over the air. Momo found it endearing.
“Holy shit, man… It's really you.”
“Chae!” Tzuyu bumps her, whisper-shouting while glancing at the other people in front of them.
“I should formally introduce myself, I guess.” Momo trails—but not without a figure hitting the corners of her eyes. The shivers down her spine were like hot needles and dry ice—inscrutable. But just with a deep breath through her nose, she managed to pull her strings back to action.
“Momo Hirai, currently the Chief Operating Officer representing the corporate parent of Forge. And these with me are part of our creatives and live production arm.”
“Your family name is Hirai?" Chaeyoung scoffs a laugh, shaking her head, “Don't they own Forge? No shit- you, own Forge?”
“Well, no, I give credit to my parents.” Momo chuckles facing the ground. It was not a thing she preferred getting brought up. But she is what she is after all.
“Well, to set a foot on this… new get-up we have here—this is Choi Seungcheol, we manage the band together.” Jihyo points to the man who gives Momo and the others a firm handshake. “And this is Yeji, our new bassist.”
"Hi, nice to meet you!” She gives a polite bow, “I… heard you were the old bassist."
"Well, yeah, I-” A nerve in her snaps, and it was horridly somehow a call for Momo to glance a bit past Yeji—where the moist in her tongue gets reeled into her throat and it causes a suppressed hiccup.
“Shall we, uh-!” Jihyo saves it, brushing off the growing tension in the room, “Shall we start with the meeting? Please, do take a seat!”
At this juncture, Momo nodded with a saleable teeth grin. The small talk with Jeongyeon after the latter placed an arm on her shoulder was the sole victor that kept her from cascading her composure, and looking elsewhere in the room where there is undeniable presence of a certain someone. "Good thoughts", "work", and "blank-minutes left" are the only things Momo recited in her head to save herself.
"Mina!"
"What?" With that look of her face, feigning innocence that didnt pass Momo's squinting eyes, it had to be her.
Mina, her decision-making ‘right hand’, has got to be the one responsible for all this. The deal with the band was definitely not her choice—she didn't even know it was them, so she needed someone to blame after not catching even a minute of sleep last night after the infamous meeting. The blurry, peripheral image of that woman in the meeting room, sitting in the far front of her like it was all nothing, gnawed at her mind like scribbles from a fever dream.
There were a lot of looks when Momo dragged Mina into her office while she was cooking ramyeon in the break room. Momo closed the frosted glass door to her office as careful as she could, despite all the pent up emotion she had since yesterday.
"Canary Yellow? Are you insane or what?" Momo massages the bridge of her nose. Her look was quite giving—the dark circles and lackluster skin.
"You told me it's my choice. I asked you but you didn't even notice me." Mina just shrugs. Momo wanted to be mature about this, but the whole push and pull of her eyes yesterday created a tight hold on her neck that lasted until now.
“They're hot to the public these days. Not landing a deal with them would be stupid.” Mina adds.
“But why did I have to meet them? Why not you?”
“I'm not the daughter of the president?”
“How is that even relevant!”
“I’d suggest you lower your voice if you don't want gossip going around about us fighting like a married couple again.” Mina sat on Momo's couch, and it made the woman fume even more, especially when Mina had that sly grin she always claims is just a facial default.
"What?" Mina asks, tone sounding defensive, “Didn’t you say you hate corporate gossip?”
“I don't give a shit.”
“Woah.” Mina raises her hands, “Was it really that bad? I mean, you and uh- this Sana girl?”
Momo groaned, “No! Okay? We didn't talk… Why would we? Ugh! I just hate it.”
“You gotta put up with it ‘til the end of the tour.”
“What?" Momo shakes her head in disbelief, “I don't have to be there. I'm not the production head.”
"Uh, well…" Mina trails off, which causes a sharp look from Momo, “You do have to survey the set for some shows, since it fits your schedule too. You basically have a quality control role in case you forgot, nepo baby.”
“But overseeing the stages doesn't mean I'll have to see them too, do I?”
“Hmm, you'll roughly be in the same area.”
Momo sighs painfully. If it weren't for this deal then any other day would've just been the normal home-to-work-to-home routine. Now it's like she’d have to do yoga breaths in case she meets the band in accident. Momo throws her body next to Mina on the couch, flailing her arms and vigorously poking the insides of her mouth with her tongue.
“For a shy and chill-looking woman you do have some anger issues.”
“No I don't.” Momo huffs.
“Frustration issues?”
“That doesn't even exist. You should just leave.”
“And let you self-destruct and think about acquiring alcoholism and club-addiction because the woman you still very much care about is back after three years?”
“She's not back, Mina.”
“But you still care about her? You didn't deny it.”
“No.” Momo huffs. Mina's always too much of a talker against her sanity. But as much as she hated to admit, the girl always strikes a nerve.
“Don't you owe me a birthday gift?” Mina asks.
“Now? Really?” Momo says half-heartedly, resting her head on the couch with a heavy sigh.
“Let me be your girlfriend.” Momo shots up, brows furrowed, but before she could say anything- “Your decoy of some sorts. Someone to show off while this Sana girl is around. Since I'll be coming with you to the production sets.”
“That's a stupid idea. There's no use in making her jealous-”
“Oh? That wasn't my goal.” Mina cuts her off, "It was supposed to not make you look lonely and miserable. But if that's what's on your mind then-”
“No.” Mina had a teasing grin on her, Momo knew that look—of bad ideas. “No.”
“Birthday gift?”
“I'll buy you a building instead.”
“I don't want that. I can get it for myself.” Mina scoffs. “Come on, it'll be fun. You get too stiff when you're anxious and mad. I'd help you get back on track with work too.”
“I don't know. It sounds stupid.”
“But you're considering it, right?” A smirk crept up Mina's face, a vicious feat.
Momo held her aching head.
A deal to be sealed with Canary Yellow?
Site visits?
Fifty-fifty percent chances of meeting the band regularly?
This. Is. A. mess.
Notes:
Sike! Another update, lol.
Just because I feel like Momo's current POV after three years is an important thing to note as well (winks).
While my Paramore playlist was on shuffle during a rainy city drive one night, this song played. It's one of my favs. And I always had an image of this bittersweet, frustrated protagonist, who—no matter what they did—ends up under the rubble of their failed relationship. It's very... "wlw-coded", to be honest. And during that drive, I had an image of Momo dragging her back down at a random wall in office wear, going weak after seeing Sana again for the first time in three years, lol. I kept listening to this song while writing this chapter.
See you on the weekend!
Chapter 10: X. That's What You Get
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
Pain, make your way to me,
And I'll always be just so inviting.
Momo arrived at the office building early, hoping the extra time would give her a chance to settle her nerves. Surprise, surprise—it didn’t. The sprawling office space was alive at ten in the morning—it was right when most staff arrived in the office. Momo scanned the hallways, entering one of their large production rooms buzzing with cameras and hanging stage elements, a green backdrop like a movie behind-the-scenes. Momo had to meet with the contractor for the materials to settle a building dispute in the deadlines. It was a short exchange, not enough to be brought to the meeting room.
After such, it was a short moment to distract Momo from the growing suffocation. She entered her office and stood at the edge of the chaos, grabbing her devices and clutching them like a shield. Her mind spun through the agenda later on—and that would be finalizing the logistics with the creative team assigned for Canary Yellow. She had to present the updated contract, and oversee the timelines for the dry run.
The band, again.
Her stomach churned at the thought. It wasn’t exactly the band, per se—it was her. She didn't know what she was going to face. It was easier being pounced on by the higher ups from her parents’ group of stakeholders, but today, Momo was more nervous than her first day on the company being filled by some foul-mouthed rumors.
“Breathe,” she muttered under her breath, walking absently as she was glancing at the reflective surface of her phone. Mina appeared in the sharp curve of the hallway which made Momo jump. The woman had a coffee in hand, her ever-present grin in place.
“Morning, boss!” Mina greeted cheerfully, smearing a straw on Momo's lip to offer her a groading sip—in an assaulting way.
“I’m… good.” Momo replied with a dismissive hand, her voice lacked its usual edge whenever Mina did stupid things of similar wavelength. Her assistant raises an eyebrow.
“What? You look like a president with death threats on the front door mail.”
“Not helping.” Momo groaned, dartingly scanning the hallway they walked past as if looking for an escape route.
“Won’t you relax?” Mina said, bumping Momo lightly with her shoulder. “You’re a pro at faking professionalism. You could probably do it blindfolded.”
“Yeah, sure. Blindfolded.” Momo scoffs.
“You know what could help? My little proposal.”
“I told you, it’s ridiculous.”
“Ridiculous or genius?” Mina countered, “All I’m saying is, you could use a little distraction. It doesn’t even have to be about her. It’s about you looking like the confident, self-assured professional you are.”
Momo sighed, running a hand through her hair.
“You know, just help me bring this.” Momo throws over her laptop to Mina, which causes her iced coffee to spill a little. The woman makes an offended sound but kept walking with Momo anyway without another word.
When the time came, Mina opened the door to the meeting room with a subtle nod towards Momo. The band was already waiting. She’d gone through this scenario a dozen times in her head, practicing what to say, how to stand, how to avoid looking at one woman. She's shit at this, but she doesn't have a choice.
The room wasn’t particularly large, but it felt like it was gonna eat her with all the band members sitting around the table. Jihyo walked away from her chair, along with Seungcheol. The rest of the band stood up as well.
“Good morning, Jihyo.” Momo began, her voice steady despite the slight tremor in her hands. She greeted the others with a bow and signalled for them to sit. In her eyes it was just Jeongyeon, Tzuyu, Chaeyoung, and their new bassist. Just them. Focus on just them, Momo.
Momo and Mina settled as well in front, the laptop on the table being connected immediately to the large smart TV, showing the presentation. Momo pulled up the composed stance she’d mastered over years of working in high-stake environments.
“Thanks for taking the time to meet. We’ve finalized the details of the contract, and I wanted to walk you through a few key points before we proceed with the signing. Also, we have to finalize the stage elements to avoid disputes and misunderstandings between our teams.”
Jihyo nodded, her expression unreadable to Momo, but there was a smile on her face.
“Appreciate you coming in person, Miss Hirai. It’s always better to clarify things face-to-face.”
“Absolutely, Miss Park.” Momo replied, grinning towards the ground from the silly play-off they were having.
“By the way, this is Miss Myoui, she’ll be taking the minutes. And for further contact with the team, I'll be directing you to her.” They all greeted her with a bow, until Momo finally launched into her presentation, her voice growing steadier with each sentence.
“The revised contract includes an updated timeline for the dry run. It’s set for four weeks from now, including a full week of rehearsals before the tour launch. We’ve also adjusted the load-in and load-out schedules for venues to accommodate your team’s preferences. Everything’s outlined here…” Mina swiped through the slides on the screen.
As she spoke, Momo felt the weight of Sana's possible gaze on her. She wishes the girl was just spacing out in the corner, but she wasn't gonna bother to look up and check. She channeled her focus into the details. She highlighted points about the agreed stage design, the sound checks, and emergency contingencies.
“So, any questions so far?” Momo asked, finally glancing towards the big picture of the band.
“It looks good! But… are the dry run dates flexible? We’ve got a few press commitments in the coming days and it would probably clash with the dates?” Yeji slowly trails her question.
“They’re flexible within a two-day window. If you need adjustments, let Ms. Myoui know, and we'll coordinate with the crew.”
“What about the fireworks towards the tour finale? Is that good?” Tzuyu raised her hand to ask.
“Yes.” Momo said, swiping to another section of the document. “We’ve secured the permits for the last venue on your itinerary. I’ll also send over the safety briefings for your review.”
“Cool.” Jihyo remarked, her tone going along with the smile she had on.
Throughout the discussion, Momo noticed how Sana just remained silent—with emphasis on ‘noticed’ as there wasn't a moment Momo had looked towards her. It was best to help her feet up. Even if the woman sat at the far end of the table, Momo could still feel an unspoken tension radiating from her—or maybe it was just herself? Even then, the others continued to throw more questions along her way, making sure the details were exactly how they hoped for.
Finally, Seungcheol leaned forward, his hands clasped. “It all looks good on paper, but the real test is how it plays out on the ground. Are we confident we’ll be ready by launch?”
“Well I trust Momo.” Jeongyeon quips, "I mean Forge." She earns an eyebrow raise from Seungcheol and a smile from Mina.
“Thanks.” Momo says with a small smile, “But to assure you, Forge's team is fully committed to making this tour a success. We’ll be there every step of the way to ensure everything runs smoothly.”
“Every step of the way?” Chaeyoung repeats her, and Momo notices how Jihyo nudges her from the side.
“Yes.” Momo satisfies the question.
“Let’s move forward.” Jihyo says.
As the meeting wrapped up and the managers began signing the contracts, Momo allowed herself a small exhale of relief next to Mina who was tidying up. The band was gone minutes ago. She made it through, thankfully without faltering, but the day was far from over.
“See? You nailed it." Mina gives Momo a pat on the shoulder as they walk back toward the hallway.
But Momo knew her hands were trembling ever so slightly with every pause of her sentences to breath. Her thoughts already spiraled towards what the near future could hold for her. She hopes to the heavens that it isn't gonna be plain torture.
“Don't try anything.”
“Dude, she's literally not reacting to anything.”
“We have to focus on the dry run, don't create a scene like the last time, you ass.”
“I was just being normal!”
No matter how the band tried to keep their whispers down after exiting the van, Sana could still hear them. She pushes it off her shoulders, conditioning herself internally for the dry run in a while. It was about the band anyway, and not about any stupid personal entanglements from the past—not that she would even be here anyway.
They entered the production site which is an open field venue for their first show due in a day. Jihyo and Seungcheol did the checking and meetings with the Forge team since the start of the week, but now was the day they get to see the almost polished stage.
A staff entertained them at the entrance and guided them through the field. Technicians darted between towering steel rigs, their walkie-talkies crackling with jargon. A massive stage structure gleamed under the harsh overhead lights that were being tested on the spot, while crew members were fine-tuning them.
Sana clutched her bag. Her nerves were weighing on her chest. The band was exchanging their ‘wow’s and excited shrieks. For Sana, it's all she's ever imagined, might be even better. She sees herself and the band facing a thousand people who share the same love for music as them. But, unlike any other festival or show they played at, this was their solo concert. It already felt unreal when they heard that the show sold out in only less than an hour, yet seeing the large stage set-up in person cemented that astonishment.
They were asked to wait in a large tent reserved for their things. A production staff head entered to brief the band more about the safety regulations and some reminders on their cue spots and sound connections. The band had been rehearsing and reminding themselves as well about these things for the past months of tour rehearsals, so it was an easy feat for them to follow.
Later in the day, after the first dry run, they had to make some adjustments with the sound feedback in their IEMs. They were given a rest period and were met with prepared food when they returned to the tent. They relayed their gratitude to the Forge staff and began eating cheerfully, while talking about the technicalities and the tickling feelings they had.
Sana had to excuse herself to the restroom. She was heading toward the stage scaffolding when she turned a corner and nearly collided with a staff member. They both stopped short after the staff dropped a piece of equipment.
“Oh! I'm so-”
The sudden realization and proximity pulled out all the air in Sana's body. There was an unmistakable hitch in her breath, sweat forming under a split second.
“Sorry.”
The woman said quicky.
Momo said quickly.
She takes a step back, picking up the piece of equipment she just dropped.
Sana hung her jaw slightly, her lips twitching thinking what better thing to say but she didn’t know how to start.
Momo looked so different now. A white blazer was hanging on her shoulders that did so little to hide her arms. It might've been the first time Sana saw Momo's arms so exposed like this, and that's what made it look so new. Momo used to have her grey hoodie on all the time, or a flannel that put so much innocence in her facade. She used to not wear any makeup at all, but now her lips were red, and the dark pencils around her eyes made it look bigger than she remembered. Her hair was also black, and longer. She looked like a full-blown adult. Sana can't quite wrap her head around it.
“It’s fine.” Sana said eventually, shaking off her thoughts. Her voice was calm, but inside her was a storm of unrecognizable emotions clouding her head.
They stood there for a beat too long, the awkward silence wrapping around them like a shroud. Finally, Sana very bravely broke it,
“You’re... good at this." she said after Momo successfully picked up the thing she was holding earlier.
“What?” Momo blinked twice, obviously getting caught off guard.
“This whole… production thing,” Sana cleared her throat, “It… suits you.”
Momo stayed like a statue on a pedestal. Sana felt her cheeks warm from embarrassment. She realized she shouldn't have said anything and instead just ran to the restroom.
“Thanks.” Momo said slowly, like a question even. “The band is doing great too. How is the setup going?” The was it was so monotonous just made Sana's embarrassment grow.
“Yeah, well, it’s all thanks to your team, right?” Sana gave a small smile, but it failed to reach her eyes.
Momo nodded once, and walked past her.
“Earth to Momo?”
Mina's voice snapped Momo out of her daze. Her assistant stood at her side, arms folded and a playful smirk on her face.
“You’re staring at that light rig like it’s going to collapse on you. You look stupid.”
“I’m normal.” Momo replied, straightening her posture.
“Sure you are.” Mina rolled her eyes, unconvinced. “It’s not like you'll talk to your ex or anything.”
Momo shot her a glare. The bump-in a few minutes ago lingered in her mind. She couldn’t shake off the memory of Sana's small smile—and the strange pang it left in her chest. She hates how Sana still had that effect on her no matter how she tried practicing her composure before coming here.
“No shit. You did?” Mina bounces her thoughts off.
“We bumped into each other at a scaffolding.”
“What happened?”
“Nothing. We just- I don't know. It was less than a minute, I think.” Momo leaned her back to a nearby wooden panel that caused it to shake a little in an unstable manner.
“Hey! Pull yourself together! You wanna get us crushed or what?!” Mina darts her eyes at the large wooden panel and to Momo. She pulled the girl up in panic, but it was like Momo didn't even notice it happen, “I can't have you losing your shit on site. You're not like this, Momo.”
“I know.” She sighs. Mina looks at her with a firm, knowing stare. Momo knew exactly what was on that mind of hers.
“I get how it still affects you,” Mina assures her, changing her tone into a softer one, “But you gotta fight to stay on the line when other things are involved. Like the company, and other staff if you mess up bad.”
"What do I do?" Momo sighs, and runs her hands on her hair.
“You've been considering it, you know.” Mina says, a look just waiting for her answer. Momo mutters a curse under her breath.
After a while, it was time for the two of them to head to the stage after talking with some creatives and contractors. They marveled at it from afar, and it was nothing different from her other site visits. Massive constructions, sleek platforms, dynamic LED panels, and towering light rigs. All the production knick-knacks and some familiar faces from the team working on ground.
But what made her core rumble on her this time, was that the band was scattered across the space, each member testing their positions while technicians fine-tuned the equipment. Sana, being the vocalist, was obviously in front. Momo and Mina had been called to the side of the stage, their presence being too noticeable, so it was inevitable to have the other members greet her and do a bit of small talk and few laughs.
They stood off to the side, Mina had an iPad in hand, reviewing notes from the lighting team. Although busy as they were, Momo still had the tension like an undercurrent.
Mina leaned casually against her, her eyes flicking between Momo and the band. “Do we get a VIP pass to their first show?” she joked.
Momo rolled her eyes. “You’re practically part of the production team. You can watch.”
“Oh, you won't accompany me?” Mina teased, nudging Momo lightly.
“Fuck you.” Momo couldn't help but lighten with a chuckle. Their laughter drew a few curious glances from the band, especially from Jeongyeon, who was fixing her setup on the nearby amplifier.
Mina wasn’t one to miss an audience. She stepped closer to Momo, leaning in just enough, like playing along a barrier line.
“You know,” she said loud enough for those nearby to hear, pretending it was because of the loud mic tests, “I might start stealing the spotlight.”
Momo chuckled, though she felt the heat of the band’s collective glances on her. “Isn’t this a bit overboard?” She replied with a teethy whisper.
“I am distracting you, though?” She whispers back. Momo notices how she's been able to laugh a bit without holding her hands tight from the tension. Mina was right, it did work—somehow.
Mina was always intentionally bold. Sometimes, when the rumors at work about them were the talk of the town, she'd intentionally hold Momo's coffee up her lip to help her sip from it. Momo always knew she was just toying, because in private, Mina asks her to pay for it. Not to mention, she can never reach that girl through the phone outside of work hours.
Mina reached out and adjusted the collar of Momo's sleeveless dress shirt, fixing the button that was somehow latched in a different slot.
“Any five-year old is smarter than you.” Mina whispers, but does so with a wide smirk, obviously intended to put off a different mask.
“Do you think I'd care about a mismatched button today? I couldn't even sleep.”
“What?” Mina giggles, loudly, “You work too hard. I told you to let me take care of you.” She proceeds to massage Momo's shoulder.
“Ew. Didn’t know you’d be corny as hell.” Momo whispers, along with a subtle eyeroll, "At least massage me properly. You're being useless."
"Not doing that for free. This is paid."
"What—"
“Momo?” Jeongyeon’s voice cut through the moment, her eyes were being bouncy. “Can we get through the lighting crew? We want to do some small adjustments.”
Momo cleared her throat, slightly stepping away from Mina. “Yes. Absolutely. I'll call the head of the team over.”
“Thanks, Mo!”
“If you want any more adjustments, just tell us, okay? I'll be staying on site until roughly… four p.m.”
“Such a natural.” Mina butts in with a smile, saying to no one in particular, but Jeongyeon and Chaeyoung were there to hear it, darting there eyes elsewhere.
As the band resumed their positions, Momo couldn’t help but steal a glance in front. However, it was stupid a mistake after her eyes met with Sana's for a split second, and in that moment, Momo saw the flicker of something…
Annoyance?
Whatever it was, it was gone as quickly as it appeared, because Momo looked away as soon as she could. Her thoughts were clouded once again.
“What? Was it too much?”
Momo sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose. Mina probably saw the exchange, so they went on walking towards the station of the lighting team, fading away from the band's sight.
“You’re insane.” Momo only says, letting out a slight laugh to brush it off.
“Without me at work, you'll die.” Mina replied with an eye roll and a cheeky grin, looking completely unbothered by the storm she might have just stirred.
If Mina noticed the crackling tension in the room, she probably didn’t let on. But Momo felt it too much—the weight of every glance, Jeongyeon's eyes being all jumpy, and the undistinguishable look she saw from the split exchange with Sana. And as the rehearsal continued, so did Mina's antics and intentional teasing. She couldn’t help but wonder what it even meant to the band—and to… well, to Sana.
Momo tucked her arms as she approached the stage once again since their last interaction. She was running through the noses of the crew and making sure there weren't any last minute disputes—going all over her checklist and all. The band was sprawled across the floor, Tzuyu and Yeji sat on some crates, their instruments resting idly in their laps. Momo hesitated just long enough to steady herself, then stepped into their circle with Mina beside her.
“Hey, everyone." Momo said, her voice soft but clear. They turned toward her, some more enthusiastically than others. They gave her a little wave, Jihyo was also there now, raising her eyebrows in acknowledgment.
“I just wanted to say, it's been a privilege watching you all put this together.”
“Aw, thanks, Mo!” Chaeyoung stands, surprisingly giving her a hug. “You’re not bad at this whole production gig yourself, you know. You always surprise us with the things you can do.”
“That’s too high of a praise. But, thank you.” Momo replied, her smile genuine. The others gave their own nods. “Good luck tomorrow. You're gonna do great.”
“You coming to the show?” Tzuyu asks.
Momo hesitated, the question catching her off guard, “I’ll... try.” she said after a beat, her tone carefully noncommittal.
“You better come.” Jihyo chimed in, but her tone was joking, “You’ve been in the trenches with us, so you’ve earned yourself a front-row seat.”
"No promises, sorry." Momo chuckled lightly, the sound feeling foreign in her own throat.
“Well, if you can’t make it, at least get some rest. You look like you've been doing a lot of work.” Chaeyoung says so sweetly, it made Momo smile.
“Yeah, I plan to. And speaking of which, it’s four. I need to head out. Ms. Myoui here will stay a bit, though, so you can relay your further concerns to her or the other staff.”
“Oh please, just call me Mina.” She giggles, and Momo does so as well to ride on. The band said their hi's, and collectively murmured their goodbye's to Momo. She then took a step back, ready to make her exit.
“Leaving Ms. Myoui to babysit us, huh.”
Momo froze mid-step, her muscles locking as though she’d stepped into ice water. Sana's voice cutting through her tracks was the last thing she expected.
Momo turned back slowly, her face a careful mask hiding the shock, though her pulse quickened, thrumming in her ears.
“She knows the band’s needs inside and out. She's most capable.” Momo replied evenly, her tone practiced.
Sana didn’t look up immediately, but Momo had a careful stare at her. When she did finally lift her gaze, her expression was unreadable.
“She must be, you seem close.”
Momo's chest tightened, her breath catching just slightly before she forced herself to remain composed. Sana had a smile to her face, which almost reminded her of everything—but today it had a different wavelength to it.
Like aiming at a displeasure.
“She’s my assistant.” Momo said plainly, “That’s her job.”
Sana's lips quirked, an almost imperceptible smirk. Her attention drifted back to the stage floor. Momo's fingers were trembling, wanting to fiddle with something to hold herself together. Her throat felt dry, and the faint hum of the crew's footsteps on stage seemed suddenly louder. Momo knew stares were onto them, but she couldn't say anything to break it.
“Good- night… everyone.” Momo managed to release her words, her voice as steady as she could manage,
And she tried so hard not to look back this time.
Notes:
Next update tomorrow!
I was fixing this chapter draft since earlier, but before I posted, it somehow got messed up and only retained half of the words :/ So it took a while but now it's out!
Thank you to all the support! More coming in the next updates ;) Enjoy reading!
Chapter 11: XI. Forgiveness
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
Every word is a bullet hole, shot a hole in the sun,
If I never look up, maybe I'll never notice.
“Sana, fifteen minutes.” Seungcheol reminds her. She asks to help fix her IEM receiver box, which was being buckled to the back of her jeans. The atmosphere was of reverberating cheers, slightly muffled by the enclosed space they were at on the backstage. The final set of preparations were being done, the instruments already tuned and placed on stage before them.
The concert video was about to play in less than a minute, and that's their cue to five minutes left before the show starts. When the boom of the speakers released an ambient sound, their chest roars with the cheers and pumps with the live bass from the pre-recorded concert behind-the-scenes video.
“Are we ready to go out!" The two managers were all over the place, needing to raise their voices and cruise through some crew members to have things in order for their entrance. The band has the biggest gratitude to them, most probably even working harder than the band to make the whole tour possible.
The band huddles to the side, creating a messy circle with their arms on each other's shoulders, their foreheads sticking to one another in a closed-eye prayer. The usual concert ritual.
“Fly and get loud, canaries shout!” They scream amongst themselves, setting the hype like a buff football team. They unraveled their grips, hopping while shaking their arms as they faced the steps of the stage.
“Sana.” Jihyo called her over. She raises a brow and gives a smile. Jihyo pats her in the back, and returns a small grin, “You got this.”
“Of course. What would you do without me?” Sana quips. A two-minute countdown before the show livened her spirits.
“You know what we talked about yesterday. Don't beat yourself up again.” Sana gives a knowing smile, one that could reassure Jihyo that she was okay—well, she was never not okay about it, she believes that it's just a new and old feeling at the same time—which was strange, but not necessarily that she still cared.
“We're on.” Sana reminds Jihyo. Less than a minute left. They had to get ready for the entrance. The crowd starts counting down, 10, 9, 8…
3, 2, 1!
It was a blur after that. Their arrival was met with the loudest cheers they heard from a crowd. The faces of the front rows were one of the most memorable, opposingly spewing tears while they played a lively pop-rock tune—one of their most popular songs from the early days of their fame. The set was filled with heat and passion. There were occasional speeches from the band, particularly led by Sana, who was fueling the interactions the most.
The second part of the show moved into a more synthy-pop rock sound from their new album. They were able to shift their genre a bit and pull it off live as well—this time, they're able to hire more sessionists to play the background instruments, helping their live performances sound more ethereal. The stage was a beautiful mix of lights that interacted with their playing, which had them more connected to the moment and their fans.
It was inevitable for them to also cry in the late game, transitioning to more smoother and subdued rhythms. The people were swaying their phone lights, a lot of them using yellow flash covers that revealed a bright yellow, glowing sea. Sana's voice cracked from the growing lump on her throat, but she carried on until the last burst of energy. A solid good night from the crazy drum shred, the deep and defined final bass line, the bright and animated guitar rhythm, the tight outro guitar riff, and Sana's final words of thanks.
The first show wrapped up successfully. They were done with the photo ops, some press interviews, thanking most of the staff, and were sitting in their large tent about to eat and have a few drinks. Seungcheol just entered, and signalled for Sana to come near.
“You have someone outside, are you feeling it?”
“Of course.” Sana smiles. Performing had always been a physical exercise, especially for bigger events like this, but she and the band always put time into entertaining fans after their gigs. They told the two managers from the get-go, who did not protest.
Sana exits the tent, wondering if the fan was only after her. But she didn't wanna pull out other band members who were already eating. So she went out with Seungcheol instead.
“Sana!”
What the hell?
The sight shoots a bolt of electricity in her system, causing her to lag behind her tracks, her breathing snatched from her lungs.
“You did well up there, kiddo.”
Sana thinks of all the times this could've happened. The night was almost perfect—almost, as she didn't know how to feel about this. Six whole years and not a single word from them. She didn't even know what to call them anymore.
“Wonwoo gave us the pass. He's such a good lad. Glad you're still with him, kiddo.” Wonwoo, that bitch. Sana already knew he was up to something when he called her up and asked for tickets. She hated meeting up with the guy for certain reminders that came with him—Sana’s old town, his apartment. But it wouldn't hurt to let an old friend support their first tour, right? Wrong.
Seungcheol was most probably unaware of it. Sana really didn't bother to talk about her trivial past to the new people. But there she was, staring shock at the unreal smiles in front of her.
“M- Mom… Dad.”
Inevitably, her feet drag her towards them. Her parents gave her a tight hug, but Sana was unmoving. She started to feel a pang in her chest, despite it being numb. And without a warning, she felt a wet streak down her chin, her sight further blurring out from the tears that rolled down her face.
Sana did her best to mask her feelings until it was time for the band to offer their goodnights. They normally went separate ways going home, so she told Seungcheol not to say a word to the band. Her parents stood outside the old, familiar pickup truck at a different parking space, waiting for her like they said. Sana didn't want to believe all of it, and was still unexpecting when she entered the car and sat next to her mom in the back seat.
Her dad was the one driving, claiming to have found a good restaurant nearby. Because of it, Sana didn't eat much at the tent, she didn't have the energy to do so anyway. Her parents were rambling on and on in the car without a pause—about how they sold the house, about their health decline due to age, about her father's new job, about how proud they were—Sana just gave miniscule nods. Her heart was racing with a certain ache that it muffled their voices halfway through the ride.
“You want anything from the menu, kiddo?” Her dad asks after repeating their order to the waiter. Sana still hasn't touched the menu. Kiddo. After six years of being unheard of, it rang repeatedly in her head. Her dad always called her that since she was a kid. The waiter and her dad eventually wrapped it up when Sana didn't bother to answer.
“Sana? How are you? Can you talk to us?” Her mom's voice was gentle with concern. It was far from the last time she heard it—bitter and enraged.
“I'm okay.”
“You look tired. Have you gotten any rest?” Well, no, because you dragged me here. She wanted to say it, but it wouldn't help.
“Our daughter's working hard,” Daughter… It was so easy for them to call it that. But Sana forgot how it felt to be a daughter for so long. Her nose started to burn once again, “She's a star. I see ads of her all over the place. I couldn't be any more proud, kiddo.”
Sana tried hard to keep her tears from falling. But it clouded her eyes so much that it was no use. They knew by now with their calculated expressions of… Worry? Longing? Maybe guilt?
“Sana,” Her father tried reaching his hand out to her, but was immediately rejected—eyes not meeting his as well, “I hope we can leave it all behind us. Let's be a family again.”
“We admit it wasn't right to send you out. Life must've been so hard on you, Sana. But now, we're here, and we won't leave you again.” Her mom added, placing both her palms on her lap.
But Sana felt it was too much that she had to leave the restaurant. She ran, wishing no one of them had followed after. Six years, and she was doing fine on her own, or at least she managed to. All the pain were merely scars, until seeing them opened another cut.
She was stupid to hope, though. She was stupid enough to give it a chance—growing a new patch of grass. But the dead twigs already poisoned the soil itself. She shouldn't have went to the dinner. She should've just stayed in the tent with her found family—her bandmates, who had no clue about this.
Sana’s body falls at the curbside of whichever place she was able to run to. It was a bustling street, no way that they'd find her out of the hundreds of people at that block. There was a corner dark and hidden enough for her to release her sobs without making a scene. It was too much that she couldn't breathe. Sana had to clutch onto her chest, pulling the collar of her favorite shirt she changed into from earlier until the threads started snapping a bit.
She still remembers how her dad, being a quiet man, sent her out the house with the same plain silence, face loud from disappointment. She tried pleading her case about dropping out just to keep a roof over her head, crying in the cab to Jeongyeon's place until she tasted her dried up throat, repeating the conversation with her parents again and again in her head. She didn't want to give up music, and it was no use anyway since the semester cutoff had passed and she didn't register for the next one. Her mom’s reaction was polar opposite from her dad—she was a hysterical mess, straining her throat to tell her everything about how she'd be a failure.
Without even half an hour to pack all her clothes, Sana's mom dragged her out. Not a cent in her pocket. She did a ride-and-dash to Jeongyeon's dorm which almost caused her a beating from the driver. But she was fast despite the tangled clothes hanging out her duffle bag. The cab incident was one small piece of information she left out from telling Jeongyeon everything.
She never tried reaching out to her parents. She didn't come near her hometown, nor did she send a single message to them. But it went on and on, until she found her own place to stay, found a job that work out, until she landed a job at a small laundromat that didn't require any other skills than strong arms, and a cheap apartment after saving for months. Sana always struggled to make ends meet but knew she could never ask for help.
And now, she doesn't need it.
So when three different people noticed her at the curb, she tried her best to mumble a straight “I’m okay”, letting them pass by her. Not wanting anyone to come close, or maybe even recognize her like that.
I don't need any help. That's what she wanted to really say. She knew someone was gonna approach her again from the sound of dragging footsteps nearing her. Sana collected herself to the rehearsed words, but what estranged her is how that figure dragged its feet in front of her, and sat right next to her at the curb. But Sana was too hauled from all the emotions that she didn't look up to check.
“I'm o-”
"Never thought I'd see you crying."
The voice cut Sana from further thoughts.
It was a voice all too familiar.
Momo?
Am I starting to hear things now?
Notes:
A short chapter about Sana (and an update as promised!). The songs from Paramore's After Laughter album always make me feel gloomy, like I'm in a painful growing adult phase, even if the songs sound upbeat (cue in Rose-Colored Boy, the chapter that ended SaMo three years ago). It's a good paradox, hitting close to how life had been hard on Sana for the past years.
Forgiving is never easy. Friendly reminder that we don't owe it to someone that hurt us badly—no matter how much they've changed now. It's always valid to take your time to process the baggage and trauma.
Next update in two days. I'll be posting two chapters before the weekend since I'll be busy for my girlfriend's bday. Enjoy reading, everyone! Thank you so much for the continuous support!
Chapter 12: XII. Tell Me How
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
You don't have to tell me, if you ever think of me,
I know you see me dancing wildly in the fog of your memory.
“Hey! Watch your step!”
A group of girls bumped into Momo—or maybe she bumped into them, she's not sure. Blame the dark street, and the neon signs on the building strip that weren't really aligning right now. She felt like throwing up.
“Sorry.” Momo checks the time on her wrist, but she knew she was fucked when she saw a thirteen. The group of girls—probably some students—had one thing that ticked her numbing senses.
Band shirts. Canary Yellow band shirts.
Tonight was their first concert, the first leg of their four-month long tour—not that Momo read their tour profile or anything, of course she gave the files to Mina instead, which were stored inside the topmost drawer of her file case table on the left. Just why the heck was it that easy to find anyway?
Despite being alone in a club a few minutes ago, Momo was taking shots good for five people, or at least that's what it felt like. She had to chase away the lingering feeling she had since yesterday.
She had to wash away that look.
She knew Mina's plan was stupid, but she didn't expect Sana to even care. She wasn't sure if she actually did, but the gleam from her eyes wasn't indifferent, she knew from her gut feeling.
Her voice was still so, so sweet. Her voice was like she was singing even if she wasn't. Momo hated the way the words scribbled in her head all night.
“This whole production thing. It suits you.”
“Yeah, well, it’s all thanks to your team, right?”
Momo couldn't find her car even if she tried. She wasn't gonna drive, she's not that stupid even when drunk. She just needed to sleep in it. But now that she couldn't, she just kept cruising through the dark alley that had a walking crowd, full of people, lively conversations, nothing else lighting them but bar signages, and—
Wait, what?
Momo squints her eyes a couple times. The alcohol haze wasn't helping. She must be going crazy. Her thoughts were only filled with the tone of her voice, her hazel brown eyes, but never an image of Sana right in front of her—crying.
So now, she's even hallucinating?
Momo's head was too beat up to think, so she dragged her feet to the figure, a curb where she sat by. She didn't have her car anyway, so might as well sit right next to a crying Sana phantasm.
“Never thought I'd see you crying.” Momo giggled, and was hiccuping from time to time. She caused the imaginary Sana to pause from the crying, her face turning to hers, and it looked way too real.
“You know I cried a lot too… that time! But I never imagined- Wow, that you'd be crying about it too.”
“What?”
“Hey, don't be mad, I'm not saying you don't have feelings… or something. Maybe you did.” Momo saw Sana's face warping, her brows were meeting together. This imaginary Sana certainly held a lot of emotion. One moment she was crying, another and she's confused as hell.
“What the hell are you saying?”
What the hell are you saying, Momo.
“I don't know, seeing you was hard to bear.” Momo wanted to erase Sana's image now, it was making her feel too much. She repeatedly rubbed her whole face with both her hands, slowly feeling it numb, but that changed nothing.
“Go away! Fuck!” Momo lets out a throaty scream. She kept rubbing her eyes and re-checking the scene next to her, but Sana's figure still wasn't going anywhere. It was sitting and gawking at her like she was stupid.
“I was here first, asshole. Why are you making me leave?”
Asshole.
“Are you drunk?”
“Haha, drunk…”
Her words left an echo trail in her head, and suddenly, Momo's eyes widened, as if abruptly shaken awake. She checked the atmosphere of bar lights, and it started aligning like it was supposed to. Suddenly, things were not much of a blur, and her heart pounded in her chest with the realization sinking in,
“O- Oh! God!” Momo tries to stand, but immediately collapses back to the floor from the vertigo. “I'm sorry! I didn't know-”
“What? You thought I was a figment of your imagination or something?” A tinge of annoyance in her voice. Classic Sana.
Momo chuckles awkwardly. She felt a surge of heat running through her cheeks. She already hated the things she's feeling, and this just added to the fiasco in her head.
“I'll… head back.” Momo was shuffling her hand in a pointed motion, signalling to Sana that she had to go elsewhere. Sana just nods and looks away. Momo, with her ever so strong limbs that wobbled with such small force, tries her best to stand and shake out the dirt from her pants.
Momo stops to breathe, supporting her weight on the nearest wall she could reach. She laughs, seeing nothing but spinning images of the road—and a glimpse of a woman looking right at her.
“Didn’t know you’d be so dumb.”
“Hey, I can handle myself.” Momo stands up straight, raising a finger with a hiccup and a few laughs she forced out her breath. She started walking. Of course she can handle herself, she's an independent adult, she's the queen of Forge! No one can destroy her, not even the big tycoons! She's Momo, Momo Hirai!
“No you can't.” And as if on cue, Momo stumps her foot at a parking bumper, causing her to fall flat on her face—or so she thought.
A firm ‘tsk’ was heard on her left ear, one too close to miss. Her arm was being held up that saved her body from tipping over.
“Momo, you're heavy.” she turned her head to the side to meet with an angel's sight—Sana’s… pinkish lips, perfectly tinted despite the dark. They looked so moist and plump. So sweet. So... pretty. Split seconds before her throat completely dried up, she suddenly gets seated back on the curb.
“Tough one, are you?” She hears that laugh again. Momo stared at Sana, face beaming, but eyes dark. She knows that kind of laugh from a mile away—one that called her pathetic.
It was silence once again when Sana sat right beside her, an inch nearer this time. But Momo was too busy fighting with the monsters in her head to notice, holding onto her forehead for dear life.
All of a sudden, she notices the road surface slowly turning into a reflective, dark shade of grey. She hears the faint white noise fading into the background.
“Great.” She hears a defeated sigh from the girl.
It was… raining?
Maybe it was the alcohol, Momo doesn't know. But she thinks back to the time she had with Sana, and there was never a day when it rained—literally. It's the first time she's drenched in the weather like this with someone that's supposed to be from the back of her memory.
The alcohol got the better of her senses when Momo decided to lie down on the concrete, the cold air entering her skin through the space between her socks and her lifted pants.
“You always rot on the sidewalk like this, Momo?”
“Mm. Maybe.”
“You're pitiful.”
“Eh. You always cry on the sidewalk like that?”
“I wasn't.” Momo chuckles. It was too obvious. Why'd she have to deny it?
“Don't you have somewhere to be?” Momo asks.
“Oh? Planning to drop me off?”
“Yeah. Offer stands.” She was going along with Sana's teasing. Momo spun her head on the grubby floor, catching a glimpse of Sana which immediately had her shutting her eyes.
“I'll call a cab. You should get picked up.”
“Mm. It's okay. Don't.”
“The cab's for me, dummy. Call someone to pick you up.” Momo feels the heat on her cheeks despite the chilly downpour. She stayed lying down, eyes closed, waiting for Sana who's probably leaving soon. Her shoes were catching dirt from the splashes of rain near the edge of the sidewalk, but she couldn't care any less.
After moments of wordless air, Momo hears faint tires stopping nearby right before she drifts into sleep. Her head was feeling light. Sana leaving her in the dark alley would help her believe this was all just a stupid dream—which might really be the case, she's too drunk to wrap her head around it.
“You found her like that?”
“More like she found me”
“What do you wanna do?”
“I've no idea. Just help me carry her up.”
Momo starts to feel the world sinking.
“Hey, love.” Jeongyeon enters from a quick smoke at the porch, greeting Sana who was sipping on coffee she prepared on her own. She only newly rose from her slumber, getting used to the routine she had at Jeongyeon's place from her usual sleepovers. She got used to it over the years, even until Jeongyeon bought herself a house one year ago. A token for her hard work in the band.
“How's your sleep?” Sana asks as Jeongyeon pulls a chair adjacent to her.
“It's better now. Last night's show gave me good feelings.” Sana nods. “How about you? Did your parents contact you again?”
“No. I mean, how would they?” Sana settles on just laughing about it, “It’s gonna be a one time encounter. That's it.”
“But they did manage to find you.” Jeongyeon finishes making her coffee, “And it's possible they’ll find you again. I don't think you can hide forever.”
“I don't think I can reconnect with them.”
“Yeah, of course, you don't have to reconnect. But if they try finding you again, It's gonna sting up your ass. It's probably gonna mess with you."
“Eh. They probably won't look for me again after last night.” Jeongyeon sighs at her words—but not to a dismay. Sana knew she'd be the first one to understand, being with her through the bedrock of it.
“Besides, we're gonna be focusing on the tour. And I might have other problems right now.” They glance at the door of the guest room. Jeongyeon snorts a laugh, giving Sana a knowing look.
“You haven't said. How'd you even find her?”
“I was just crying on the sidewalk, don't judge.” Sana said it in a bitter whisper, “She appeared somehow. She was already drunk. Ended up fainting like that.”
“Did she say anything?”
“Not really.” Sana thinks back to the things Momo said last night. She just seemed really drunk, though.
“You think she has somewhere to be?”
“Her secretary's been calling her phone.” Jeongyeon squinted her eyes at Sana. The woman raised her brows—she meant something with that face.
“Secretary, huh?” Jeongyeon laughs, “Last time you mentioned it, she was called a bitc—”
“Shut up, will you?” Sana hisses, "Things were annoying that time."
“Yeah, annoying cause they were flirting in front of your face.” Sana still remembers. A vexing feeling boiled up inside her alongside the growing pressure of the upcoming concert. It was like a planned act—one meant to provoke her. Not that she cared, but they didn't have to do that at a ‘professional setting’, as Sana calls it.
“I don't care about that.” Sana huffed, “It's the thought, okay? They're supposed to be doing their jobs and not... messing around.”
“Yeah, yeah, I heard it.” Sana glared at Jeongyeon's words, “Why do you think she's drunk anyway?”
“I don't know. Maybe they had a fight.”
“Damn. They've been in your head that much, huh?”
“What? No. It's a possibility. Besides, I don't give a shit.”
“Yeah, you really shouldn't.” Sana scoffs. But of course, she's aware of it. She had no right to care. Though it hadn't been a thought for a long time anyway.
In the middle of their momentous silence, the door of the guest room suddenly creaks open. It was a careful sound, but upon seeing the figure take a peek, there was an inevitable staredown.
For Sana, it was a hard sight to digest. Momo had her hands held to her back, looking small in a rib tank top that went low on her chest. Her dark, disheveled hair had a cursing effect—her features unorthodox to how Sana used to recognize her. Sana took in that sight against her will the whole night—having to stumble Momo into Jeongyeon's flat, smelling a mix of alcohol and sumptuous perfumes as she laid her inanimate body down the guest bed. Sana was thankful enough for Jeongyeon doing most of the work, like removing Momo's distressed flannel that revealed her shoulders, which looked more plump and… muscular… this time around. Time must've been on Momo's side. Or Sana must've been too tired last night that she let the thoughts slip in so carelessly.
“You good? You feel like breakfast?” Jeongyeon’s words called out Sana from her reverie. The dawn of the moment struck a bone—it was once again the current sight of Momo, all disheveled and shocked.
“I, uh…” The woman darted her eyes on all the corners of the floor. So much of an old tune playing.
“I- I have to go. I have work.” Momo strangely whispers her words, “I'm really sorry for the trouble. I've caused enough inconvenience for you guys, and I don't even remember anything.”
“Hey, it's fine, dude.” Jeongyeon tries to chuckle it out, but it sounded more awkward than helpful.
Momo lifted her head a bit, and it landed onto Sana's vacant stare. Her eyes immediately backed down before Sana registered the exchange.
“No, I'm really sorry for the trouble, and for needing to leave so promptly.” Momo's tone was reluctant.
“It's really no problem, Momo. And if it's okay with you, I wanna drive you to your office. You don't look so well.” Jeongyeon tries her best to be reassuring.
“No, really, I can manage.” Momo was fidgeting with her hands. Jeongyeon glances at Sana, urging her to say something. She only glares at her friend, mouthing a ‘no way’.
“I’m sorry, but I have to excuse myself now.” Momo cuts their silent bickering, walking towards the main door, but stopping midway to see her phone on the table where Sana and Jeongyeon were at. She grabbed it slowly, checking it with panic drawn all over her face right after.
“Wait,” Jeongyeon says again, “It's hard to hail a cab outside. Sana's about to leave too, you can go with her up to wherever is convenient.” Sana glares at her friend, smashing her feet on Jeongyeon's toes, but she doesn't even flinch. Jeongyeon challenged her with widened eyes.
Sana coughs. “Uh, yeah. Just… I'll drop you off somewhere. Save yourself the trouble. Since you seem so much in a rush.” Jeongyeon bumps her once again. Momo didn't seem to have the energy to say anything in return. So Sana just grabs one of Jeongyeon’s jackets and heads to the door. She opens it for Momo to follow, which she does so after weirdly bowing at Jeongyeon.
Sana knew this was the universe agreeing with Jeongyeon to set her up. Next time, she'll have to think twice about leaving her car here, and instead just use it all the way to their concert set. Sana was always too lazy about the after-show-drive (or driving in general), but it apparently had its downsides.
But who is she to budge? A car ride with Momo isn't a big deal. It shouldn't be. So, she clicks her keys and lights up her white Benz. She just bought it recently, when she applied for a licence after none of the band was free to pick her up from the grocery store, and a damn cab overcharged her.
“You're not even gonna fix yourself?” Sana says firmly, to a sluggish Momo opening the door to the passenger seat. She shut it even before answering, causing Sana to roll her eyes and stomp her feet towards the driver seat.
Sana enters, but not without accidentally flinging her keys towards the footrest. She mutters a curse, bending down awkwardly to look for it—which was unbelievably becoming a hard quest.
“It's here.”
Sana lifted herself, fixing the crumpled parts of her clothes as she grabbed the key from Momo, who looked so unfazed in her seat.
“Thanks.” She clicks on it to start the car. Her seat was a bit too far from the wheel from when she last remembered, so Sana had to adjust it from the side.
Which, to her misfortune, was not working at all. She curses at it internally. Because really, at all times, it could be today, right at this moment, right? Maybe Jeongyeon was right when she told Sana to drive her car more. It's been minutes since she's trying, not helping with the thick and awkward air hitting her consciousness. She grunts, a bit too loudly.
“Do you maybe… need help with that?”
“No, it's fine.” She was still undeniably struggling, though. Maybe—yeah right. “Why? Are you running late?”
“That's not what I meant.” She might've pushed her defenses too much—and also ended up pushing her seat too close to the wheel, causing a high-pitched shriek she stifles halfway.
There was an indistinguishable look from Momo, probaby judging her. Sana tries to look to the front, but the edge of her senses picks up a movement, when suddenly a body too close to hers was defying her own space—it was Momo, bridging her arm over Sana's waist. The action spawned an undoing haze. It was so… sudden… that Sana hasn't even wrapped a finger around it and yet, Momo was retrieving her arm already.
“It's automatic.” Her smug smile was one unfailing to be recognized, even after Momo had directed her sight out the window to clutch her seatbelt back on. Sana had to scoff quietly, pulling herself back to driver mode. She had no time to stay peeved from appearing to not know how to drive. Of course she knows how to drive.
The garden rolled past them once Sana stepped on the gas, shifting into the asphalt path. Momo was on her phone the whole time, not bothering to make a sound. They were speeding through a highway until they reached a congested stretch of buildings and people.
“I can hail a cab here.” Momo says out of the silence.
“Feeling uptight already? It's been no more than ten minutes.” Sana chuckles teasingly.
“No. Not at all.” But the seriousness caught her curiosity, “Thanks for having me in. I shouldn't have acted like that last night. And if I done anything bad-”
“You didn't do anything.”
“Oh?”
“Nothing for you to worry about.” Sana swerves towards the side of the road, finding themselves a safe drop-off spot. “You can get a cab here.”
“Thanks.” Momo then removes her seatbelt. Sana expected her to head out, but there wasn't any sound of her opening the door, or even shifting her position. This makes her steal a glance at Momo.
“Did you forget something?”
“No, I-” Momo shakes her head. She darts her eyes downwards, “I’m sorry for the trouble. You were meant to get rest. It was your show last night after all. Hope it went well.”
Her defenseless and vulnerable tone pushed a pink tint off of Sana's cheeks. What the hell?
“Y-Yeah. It went well. Thanks for the stage set-up and all. Definitely did wonders.” Her voice saves it, a pretentious unbothered tone despite the stutter.
“Just doing our job, right?” Momo lets out a small laugh. “I'm glad the band liked it.”
“And you don't have to say sorry,” Sana sighs, “You keep saying that. It's really fine. It would've been awful leaving you on that sidewalk, and I'm not that horrible.”
“Of course you're not.” Sana didn't know if it was sarcastic. It was hard to make out anything from the stoic tone, but regardless, it left a sharp taste in Sana's mouth—a bitter one.
“I'll head out.” Momo whispers, a gentle smile. Sana bit her tongue. The feeling was elusive, yet, suffocating.
“Yeah. Bye, Momo.”
“Take care.”
Sana swallows. Her cheeks were starting to puff up, a warmth making its way to it uninvited.
Get yourself together, Sana.
Notes:
A new chapter! I hope you're enjoying the story so far. There's more to come in the next, which I will be posting tomorrow. :) I might start uploading daily updates starting next week, I'll keep you posted on this!
For now, enjoy reading! So happy MISAMO had two successful shows in Tokyo (and a looot of SaMo moments I feel so giddy). I'll be replying to your comments tomorrow! Thank you so so much for the continuous support, everyone. :)
Chapter 13: XIII. When It Rains
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
When it rains,
You always find an escape,
Just running away,
From all of the ones who love you.
“The bill is on me, who are we kidding here?” A man in a classic grey tux harmlessly quips over the waiter, pulling a card from his suit pocket. A nice restaurant always had a sleek, east-asian styled booth, bamboo-cladded, saved for people who either meant business, or those who were too loud to be mixed with other diners in the restaurant.
For them, however, it was the first option. They've never been a family of words. It keeps their relationship away from personal feuds—a professional family? If that even exists.
“Momo, next year, if the conditions permit, you'll be held to your brother's position as vice president. Your mother is stepping down.”
“That's next year already?” Momo wipes the sides of her lip delicately with the cloth on her lap. She knew this ‘dinner’ wasn't just eating out like a normal family would, especially that all siblings really had to be there, it meant a talk.
“Yes. The process has been expedited.” And just like that, it was the final words of the night, Momo didn't have anything to say about it. They weren't really that fond of the whole life-catch-up thing, so dinners usually meant pure business for the Hirai’s. It's what Momo has known her whole life since she was eighteen anyway—not that she complains, being set for life is not a salable aspect.
Her parents were the first to bid their goodbye's. They drove off with their father on the wheel, drivers were also not a thing in the family. They were always taught that luxury was to be felt, so when the family SUV was passed down to her at eighteen, Momo had to forget about public transportation.
“Momo, we're off.” Her eldest brother, Jeonghan, was quick to give her a hug. Soonyoung joined in after, and the silly moment while being dressed in tightly-tailored suits had them breaking into laughter. The three always had an infrangible bond, but Momo being a few years younger made it hard for her to see them often when she was still in school. The lineage was most present in the office, so when Momo joined their company two years ago, she was able to catch up more with her brothers.
“Our partners are waiting for us.” Soonyoung teases, directing towards Momo who had quite the rep of being lonely and uptight in the office. They have never seen her date anyone—well, nothing that they know of.
“Don’t be too alone, yeah? You should try seeing someone.” Jeonghan reminds her, and it had Momo shaking her head in a laugh. “I'm serious. You're gonna be in Soonyoung’s position soon. You think he's had any time to meet people? He was just lucky. You enjoy it while it lasts.”
“You talk like more like mom than mom." Momo says, but with a glare towards her way, "Don't bother. I prefer being alone.”
“You won't get used to being single forever.” Feeling like a child scolded into bits, Momo was the first to break the ties and head to her car. The night wasn't getting any younger, and it's supposed to be the time of the month for her grocery shopping—well, not until she had this sudden dinner up her nose.
But luckily for her, she still had the energy for groceries. It was still a few hours before the stores closed, and Momo always found a comforting discharge from shelf-picking and cruising her cart between large aisles. New products on the shelf always made her excited, regardless of whether she buys them or not.
But just as it seems to be the perfect breeze to hum a tune to her beloved grocery store, the sky falls onto her—a loud shattering of raindrops on her windows. It rained all of a sudden like a storm, and she thinks back if there were any forecasts earlier, because she was planning on heading to the open night market for her meat selection.
She sighs, but it wasn't to ruin her night for the rest of her grocery shopping in an air-conditioned building. She plays a song on the speakers anyway, unminding of the trivial thoughts before. She turns on her windscreen wipers. It wasn't a big deal, she was safe inside a mechanical box-
“Fuck!”
Momo's head spins, and she panickingly steps on the brakes.
It was seconds of reverberating white noise before she gets pulled back into her smart senses. Her hands were trembling as she checked if she was still one piece of a person. Thankfully so, she was unharmed. She was definitely in fight or flight mode now, feeling her heart beating out of her chest. It was the first time she's been hit by another car, and the feeling was not light at all. Both her and the car behind were in a complete stop, lamentably, on a poorly lit road under the thundering rain.
Momo was not one to be caught up in a road rage. But this was something out of line. It wasn't even her fault. She wasn't speeding, nor was she too slow for the road. There was an awful lot of space on the second lane, and yet, a damn car had hit her tail so carelessly. She was not willing to pay for those damages. So, she unlatches her door after grabbing an umbrella, quick to not lose the culprit, because camera evidence would not satisfy her if this asshole manages to get away.
She stomps towards the back of her vehicle, wincing as she sees the heavy damage of her trunk despite the storm's haze. The other car was still collided with hers, their bumper suffering similar damages, maybe even bigger, but she was relentless.
“Excuse me?” Momo tried her best to put on a calm voice as much as possible. She was not there to rage. She keeps reminding herself. Although her knocks on the other car’s windshield were growing quite impatient, pulsing with the sounds of heavy droplets on metal.
“Please get out.” Momo was signalling the driver to do so, she tried to take a peep on who it was, but the rain and flashing lights were just too much of an eyesore. But before she could lose her temper, the car door opens, and she steps back.
“Hey, what's the deal her-”
A storm of waves then comes crashing into her body, like cold ice being poured onto her in merciless amounts. Momo stood frozen in the middle of the road. The world around her was muffled, as if she was pulled underwater. She felt a pulse in her throat, hammering like a drumbeat that was too loud for her ears to bear. Her breath—shallow, panicked—was pulled out of her chest in jagged gasps.
No, this can't be.
“Sana!”
The sight was enough for Momo's whole body to collapse, falling to her knee towards the half-opened car door. How would she not notice that car? That white Mercedes sedan with a Betty Boop sticker on the top right?
“Sana! Oh shit- Oh god! Sana!” Her voice was a mix of trembles and stutters.
“Momo…?” The tone was weak under the loud rain. She was hanging her legs outside the car, but she was still sitting on the driver's seat, seatbelt still latched on. Momo was a mechanical mess, scanning her hands all over Sana who was unblinking.
“Sana, hey,” The first time she responded was with a light flinch. Momo's palms were holding her cheeks, and she shakes away from it, a sign of regained consciousness.
“I'm… okay.” She trails slowly.
For Sana, however, her vision wavered, it began tunneling, as her breath came in short. She could taste a metal on her tongue—blood? or fear? or both. She wasn’t sure. She just knew she couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think, couldn’t do anything.
Her entire body shook. Her chest tightened, the air thick and suffocating. Her eyes were wide, unblinking, but they didn’t seem to be able to focus on anything. Not until a voice broke through her fog—someone shaking her. She didn’t know who at first, until it formed the image of Momo.
But the presence was vague in the corner of her mind, and it was the last she felt after a pair of arms were gripping hers, pulling her up, pulling her away. Lights. Sirens. A dizzying rotation. Until reality started slipping away from her grasp—slipping, slipping—until the whole world disappeared.
Water.
She needed water.
Her throat was drying up, and all she wishes for was water.
“The shock triggered Miss Minatozaki’s heart rate and blood pressure to drop, and that's why she fainted. There are also minor bruises on her mouth area due to the hit. But other than that, our test results on Miss Minatozaki had deemed her safe from any other significant injuries. Though she might need a bit of time to process the trauma—this will be up to her, and her support system.”
A cold, sterile scent filled her nose—sharp disinfectant mixed with something else, something faintly metallic. The quiet beeping of a machine was the only sound, its rhythmic pulse filling the empty space around her.
Sana's eyelids fluttered, heavy, like they were glued shut. For a long moment, she laid there feeling her head pulse like a heartbeat. She tried to move, to stretch, but her limbs felt like they belonged to someone else
She had to force her eyes to open wider, blinking rapidly as her vision slowly came into focus. The room was bright, but she could make out the silhouette of a chair, a person's figure.
"Momo?"
“Sana!” The girl stands, quickly shuffling between her and calling out a nurse. Sana notices, however, the soaked, formal-looking jumpsuit. Even her black locks seemed fresh from a shower, and the dampness had reached her exposed, toned arms.
And suddenly, like a wild bullet, it all dawns back to her—the dimly lit road, the slippery tracks, the deafening sound of impact, and the fact that she just crashed into another car. Which reminds her-
“Momo?” Her hoarse voice broke the chaos of the woman in front of her, who immediately straightened in position.
“Yes?” The question appeared loud, her voice sounded too much in shock.
“I hit someone. With my car. And I don't know-”
“It's okay,” Momo crouches and levels herself with Sana on the bed.
“How is that okay-”
“It was me.” Sana's eyes widened. It was just a month ago since their last encounter, and the whole thing challenged her to drive her car more. She took it to their band rehearsals, even to their concerts, and now, so much for that, she has to take it to the mechanic.
“You're not such a good driver.” Momo's words pulled her back, and that smug smile made her scoff.
“I'll pay for all the damages, I'll buy you a new car, whatever.”
“Is your pride hurt more than your head?”
“I'm fine.” Sana rolls her eyes—which… physically hurt. Such an event of a paradox.
“I contacted Jihyo through her work phone. The band's on their way.” Sana sighs. They have a show in two days, and they're surely freaking out on the way to her right now.
She didn't have much strength for a conversation, and just as so, the doctor entered on cue. It was surely a weird feeling being given reminders like that—“recovery, trauma, yada yada yada”, she wouldn't be able to remember all this even if she tried. It's her first time being hospitalized after all.
“Sana!” So it was also the first time to have people running over her in a rush, voices laced with worry. The loud footsteps surely distracted the other patients, and two of them were even crying—Yeji and Chaeyoung.
“Oh my god! How are you!” Jihyo had cupped her face, looking too horrified, which gave Sana strange and amusing feelings, “Why are you smiling! What happened to you! Is that still you!”
“Jihyo, I'm fine.”
“What did the doctor say?” Jeongyeon asks.
“Just… well-” Sana chuckles awkwardly. She really didn't make an effort to remember.
“See! She doesn't remember anything!” Jihyo eventually joined in the crying too.
“Calm down, if she's in shock, you're not helping.” Tzuyu butted in, which caused Sana to let out a light-hearted giggle. Jihyo disagrees, however.
“We have to cancel the show this Sunday. We'll just release a statement about your injuries.”
“What! No! The doctor said there's nothing to worry about!” Sana tried to sit up, which was immediately met with their stopping motions, “Don't cancel the show, Jihyo, come on, the fans have been waiting for long. My body is fully functional. This is too much.”
“The doctor did say…” They all turn to Momo, whose voice was small when she chimed in, “You have to have at least a week's rest. And as much as possible, less exposure to loud noise during those days.”
Sana scoffs.
“What do you even know about this?”
“I was… literally here.” Her brows were starting to furrow, dragging on her words a bit longer.
“That's besides the point!”
“Sana,” Jihyo calls, “Momo's right. If worse things happen to you because of the show, you'll end up losing more. I'm sure the fans will understand.” Sana sighs frustratedly, a heat forming up her nose from all the ‘no, no, no, no’s in her head.
“Hey, what about you?” Tzuyu turned to Momo, “What- You're soaked.”
“I’m fine.” Tzuyu squinted her eyes at her, scanning her up and down, “I’ll excuse myself.”
“I’ll come with you, I have a jacket with me in the car.” Tzuyu excuses herself from the band along with Momo. They let them be, patient in silence, as the two faded into the green curtains of the ward.
“What happened anyway?” Jeongyeon asks. Chaeyoung and Yeji had stopped crying now, and Jihyo was visibly wiping the last of her tears.
“I had low visibility, it's been raining too bad earlier. And the next thing I know, I hit another car.” Sana sighs.
“Oh shit, did you get to talk to the person you hit?”
“I guess,” Sana earned some confused looks, “It was… Momo, that I hit.”
“Oh my god.” Jihyo finally worded out the band's obvious surprise, “Did the doctor check on her too? Is she okay?”
“I don't know.” Sana had a certain dejectedness from Jihyo's words. She was too caught up in everything that she forgot it was Momo she collided with, and not a word to even ask if she was okay. Sana feels gravely stupid, and insensitive. Even if the band didn't say anything more about it, she knew their looks—how she was being judged by the way she acted earlier. She registered all of it.
Sana was discharged near midnight. She was carefully being led by the band to the parking lot. Jihyo's hands supporting her back and arm was a bit excessive, but Sana just let her, not wanting to hear any protests. The night was catching onto her, and too much has happened in the span of it.
Tzuyu meets them at the parking lot. The six of them were packed in Jeongyeon's car. There were anxious taps from Chaeyoung and Yeji who were sitting next to Sana, and it only made her giggle. She wasn't feeling anymore effects from the crash, just the fatigue, but their concern was definitely endearing.
On the way to the road, Sana spots a familiar sight. The rain has cleared out to reveal Momo, and a lump has made its vague presence in her throat. She sees Momo in a jacket being greeted by her... secretary—or whoever that woman is in her life—she leads Momo to the car, but Sana didn't miss the way Momo's eyes had landed too long towards their direction. Maybe she recognized Jeongyeon's car? Or was it just her absent thoughts out in the open?
Sana doesn't know if the band has seen it too, but Jeongyeon's driving was painfully slowing down that she had to see Momo hugging that… woman. What was her name? Miss Mi- Mo- Whatever. She saw a smile up her face that wasn't there earlier when they were inside the hospital, or maybe not until Sana became a jerk and lashed out on her.
She could only sigh. Momo's hair was dried out, and the jacket concealed her previously exposed arms. It was also just now that Sana had noticed her wearing makeup, like she had to be somewhere before the whole crash. Yet how would she know when she didn't even ask Momo anything? Stupid.
If there was any life left in Sana tonight, the reminder of Momo had it already sucked out. She entered their vehicle, not another word since earlier, not a shared glance,
And not even a goodbye.
Notes:
Too much happening in this chapter, but it is definitely one of my favorites!
We get to see Momo's family dynamic, and also, the crash—When It Rains is such a perfect song for Sana in this story, with the way I see it, about pushing the people in your life away when life gets tough. *Sighs* A painful one for Momo once again.
The next update I'll try maybe at the end of the weekend. Next week I'll be posting more frequently! Total chapters will be up to 17 or 19. We'll know by next week!
And again, thank you so much for all the kudos, comments, and silent reads! I am so grateful for all the support. :)
Enjoy the read!
Chapter 14: XIV. In The Mourning
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
You escape like a runaway train,
Off the tracks and down again.
And my heart's beating like a steamboat tugging
All your burdens on my shoulders.
“It’s a good thing you didn't die.”
Mina was giving her fleeting glances while passing the road. Momo chuckles, although her head has been in much pain, and it only sinked in since earlier. Maybe it was also the cold weather that got to her, adding to the fatigue from the long night. Her grocery plans—long gone.
“What did the doctor say? You're fit to work tomorrow?”
“You’re concerned about me going to work tomorrow? Wow.” Momo fakes an offended gasp, Mina could only roll her eyes.
“Just answer me so I know when to reschedule your commitments.”
“The doctor didn't say anything. I wasn't checked.”
“What stupid doctor?!” Momo was slightly surprised by Mina raising her tone. She was only like that when they argued, and she usually had it coming, but now was a surprise, “Why didn't they check on you?!"
“Relax.” Momo says, “They didn't know I was involved in the crash.”
“So you were just there for your ex?”
“No.” Mina hums, a teasing one. Yet, of course she had to be there for Sana. What else would she do if anyone faints in her arms? Blood down the nose and all? The images still tighten her chest. It haunts her how helpless Sana looked, far from how she always is, or, how she used to be.
“I might've said something bad.” Momo adds.
“Oh? To your ex?”
“Stop calling her that, will you? We're not-” Momo groans, it was useless arguing with that teasing grin, “Anyway, yeah. Jihyo said something about cancelling the show. She didn't like it already, but I chimed in about her recovery. She got mad, I guess.”
“Why'd she get mad at you? Is she stupid?”
“Hey-”
“What? You brought her all the way to the hospital soaked in the rain, didn't get yourself checked because you were too hung up on her, even caring much about her recovery, and she gets mad at you? Or maybe you're the stupid one here.”
“It's nothing like that,” Momo sighs, “She cares about her career a lot. She was just frustrated about her show, it's not about me.”
“In the one percent of the time I think about you in my day, all I think about is why the hell that girl even left you.”
“That doesn't even make any sense,” Momo's brows furrow, “And it was a long time ago.”
“Yeah but like, she's just pushing you away because you're nice. That's what doesn’t make sense.” It's actually funny to her, how Mina had just called her nice. The thought, however, was not one in her books. Sana had to save herself, that's all. Momo knew she wasn't up to par with her. Sana was always the one with more responsibilities, too much that she can't keep up. The fallout was inevitable, and maybe she was nothing but a failed hookup anyway.
“Do we have to get back to the hospital to get you checked now?” Mina says, quite sarcastically.
“Oh please,” Momo laughs it off, “I'm fine. Not even a scratch. She was the one on the bad end of the crash.”
Mina huffs, “So now I have to pick you up every morning? We should be talking about that extra pay.”
“No, thank you. I'll be taking the… train.”
“Like you know how.” It wouldn't be that hard, right? Momo's in her mid-twenties, so why the heck would she not know how to ride the subway?
“I'll take a cab.”
The week has passed, and the articles were definitely going crazy about her.
“Canary Yellow's Vocalist, Sana Minatozaki, Involved in a Car Crash.”
“Sana Minatozaki of Canary Yellow Escapes with Minor Injuries in a Crash, Show Postponed.”
“Canary Yellow Cancels Tour Date. Sana Minatozaki Under Recovery from Injuries.”
She's read it all. Injuries, and yet she was just lying in her bed all day for a week, or at least that's what Jihyo has forced her into. There were comments from the fans as well, all ‘get well soon’s and some sounding too worried for her liking. Sana always feels lucky to have them, because there wasn't even a single bad comment her way, not even one that whined about the show cancellation. But it just made her feel worse somehow.
But since a week has passed, Sana was excited about the long awaited rehearsals. She feels like it's been so long since the last time she used her voice. Jeongyeon was already outside to pick her up, and she even made sure to tag Tzuyu along, so Sana wouldn't sit in the front seat. She protests about the excessiveness of it—they didn't have to treat her like she's made of glass, but it was no use arguing against five people, so Sana just huffs silently.
But it's a good thing the practice went normal. They also had to record a new track for an album they've been preparing in secret. The pace was slow, but they had to keep it up, of course. The busy atmosphere was Sana's turf, so it was nice to be back in the scene. Laying down in bed all day for the past few days was starting to get on her nerves.
They were in meeting mode, finishing up at seven in the evening. The instrument team were packing up their equipment while they talked about where to eat for late dine out, a small reconciliation. They even pulled Jihyo early out of work for it.
“Forge didn't let us pay the cancellation fees. It's in the contract, though.” Jihyo casually brings up right after finding a seat at a nearby grill resto.
“Maybe because it was an accident?” Chaeyoung asks.
“The clause includes accidents.”
“Then could it be Momo? She's their boss, right?”
“Oh, yeah, I should reach her.” There was a glance towards Sana. A subtle one. But for her, it was hard to miss. It's been a lasting thought for a whole week now, kinda eating her alive.
“When's the meeting with Forge, though? Did we raise the postponement already? What did they say?” Yeji asks.
“It’s a long shot, since their dates are pretty packed. But they're gonna drop by the company for a meeting, which will be… oh, it's tomorrow?” Jihyo rechecks her calendar app, being a bit surprised. The band had a practice the same day—not that she needed to be there, but an interview visit was also scheduled late in the afternoon. Maybe Jihyo will pass it to Seungcheol this time.
It was easily another day for the band. The next set of shows was in a week, and Sana had to catch up with recording for the new album. She was sure to pass from the diuretics and reflux triggers, it's a way to not give her vocal chords a hard time. Sana always wanted the best, especially for their recorded tracks, considering it's gonna be out there forever.
Diuretics include a break from her morning caffeine. So, when it was already in the early afternoon, Sana was already fighting the sleep coming into her. Morning was for practice, and now was for their recording, and later would be an interview. But not even five minutes after their lunch break, Sana was fast asleep on the recording room couch.
“Sana?” Chaeyoung was gently shaking her awake. A suppressed hum as an answer. “Sana, I need your help with this.”
“Oh god. Sorry, Chae.” Sana rubbed her eyes, hair still frizzy from deep slumber. She sat up, and Chaeyoung stationed herself next to her—holding Sana up by the small of her back, helping her shake away the lasting sluggishness.
“What is it?” She asks.
“It’s for Under The Mattress, I did a swell before the bridge, but I feel like adding an instrumental before it would be good. I consulted with the band before they left to eat. What do you think?” Chaeyoung played the demo on the computer. Sana realizes she must've blacked out for at least thirty minutes already, not even sensing Chaeyoung's presence in the studio, already recording her guitar in the booth and doing an all new demo.
“So, what do you think? But we can choose not to push it through, it's up to you.” It made sense for Chaeyoung to confer with her, after all, it was Sana's song. Usually, a lot of their work would be co-written by Sana and her bandmates, but this was one of her few sole ‘children’—birthed from the corners of her room with a pen and paper, and her laptop for a self-produced raw tune.
Under The Mattress, though, was not made in Sana's room.
But her old apartment.
And that old apartment didn't have a room—only a humble old mattress on the floor. A sight she never really liked going home to. The song was slowly built from the rubbles of that point in her life, recently resurfacing to be put on this album, because it somehow felt right for Sana. It went well with their theme for this album, and maybe it's finally the song's due time to be out to the world after a long haul in the basement.
Sana asked Chaeyoung to play it again, letting the changes of the song sink in, wanting to warm up to the new flavor of it.
Withdrawn from the noise of the world,
Together, our bodies curl
I was sore under this old mattress,
But with you, it's an Alaskan king
We sweep it in the crevices like a secret,
When you buy yourself a bed, will you keep it?
The words echoed in the recording room, just Sana’s voice in strains of desolation—one of the sad, ‘feely’ songs in the album that strayed away from their pop-rock color. The song was buried deep long ago, so Sana didn't have much feelings for it anymore—well, it's what she thought. A feverish air started coming out her nose, as if forcing her to fall weak. It was strange, but Sana thinks the pensive emotions came in the wake of the newly added instrumental parts. This is Chaeyoung and her riffs after all.
“Hey, are you okay?” Sana was suddenly pulled from her reverie. Chaeyoung had a fixated look of concern, “Does the crash still…?”
“No, not at all.” Sana smiles, although too staged, she knew it was obvious, “I'm really sorry for being out of it. We should be focusing on the recording.”
“Sana, I understand. You know that, right? You can tell us anything.”
“Of course.” Sana shrugs it off, because even she doesn't know what this was. This… feeling. Somewhat exhaustion, somewhat fragile, somewhat a suffocation. Surely, whatever it is, it made her just wanna sleep it away again. Her shoulders sagging along.
“Do you still feel bad about it?”
“What? No.” Sana's brows furrow, “I mean, about what?”
“It was a bit tense at the hospital, don't you think?” There could only be one thing Chaeyoung was pointing to. Sana could tell from the subtle attempts they had at bringing it up from time to time.
“Did you two talk again? Since last week?” Chaeyoung, though, not so subtle about it.
“We don't really have a way of contacting each other. So, no.” Sana says as-a-matter-of-fact-ly, “Besides, what's to it anyway? We have nothing to talk about.”
“It feels lighter to let go of some grudges, you know? It might be weighing you down without you realizing it.”
Sana sighs. “I think it's bothering me more than I expected. I've been a jerk at the hospital, I can admit that.” Chaeyoung was doing light caresses on her shoulder, but it did nothing to take away the thickening ache in Sana's chest.
“But she might not want to talk to me, I mean, after all… that, and… you know, t-things.” The stuttering had Sana thinking how foolish she must be. It shouldn't be a big deal, Momo and her were nothing anyway, but it was probably just the guilt—a desire to steer clear from the bad end.
“It's probably ‘cause she thinks you don't want to talk to her.” Chaeyoung shrugs, “If you're gonna keep feeling like that, it's a small sacrifice to just get it over with. It doesn't fix all of it, but it will keep things from getting worse. Just to make you sleep at night.”
Sana wanted to ask if the bags under her eyes made it too obvious, but she knew Chaeyoung meant it as a metaphor—that apparently hit too closely to the physical realm of Sana's feelings. Not being able to sleep soundly for the past week. Thinking of thoughts she couldn't name. Her mind straying away to an area too dangerous to arrive at.
The conversation didn't go any further than that, after Sana remained quiet. The two had focused on making arrangements for the song. Sana also recorded the final vocals of it, her time in the studio reaching the receding afternoon sun. An interview was scheduled at five, so they had to prepare for that as well. The rest of her bandmates came in late at four, all dressed appropriately for the public appearance—just an intimate talk with some show producers, but with a camera to put it out to the world later on.
And so, with Sana feeling the need to hide her collapsing features, she heads to the restroom for a quick touch up. They didn't hire makeup artists for small appearances like this, and the band didn't really need to glam up. They're performers—music artists, more than they are celebs.
Jihyo was the manager that went with them, and Seungcheol was the one sent to face the big guns—the meeting with Forge. Even the mere mention of their name from Jihyo's mouth caused Sana to flinch, but Momo probably won't be there, right? In the same building with her right now? Nope. No way.
The interviewer's cameras had stopped recording after the last roll, the band thanked their staff, and even sent them out to the building after regrouping their gear. It was finally due time for them to head home. The day was especially long for Sana, who had been recording her parts since this morning, with only a short nap in the recording room. The band were putting away their gear, so Sana had the liberty to go to the restroom. She needed it before Jeongyeon drives her home.
“Sana!” Seungcheol was suddenly running around in the hallway right after her trip to the restroom. She raises her brows to her approaching manager.
“You're done with the interview?” He asks.
“Yeah. Heading home now, why?”
“Great!” Oh that tone was no good.
“Come on, I need you just a sec for the meeting. You're friends with Ms. Hirai, right?” A cold splash on her skin with the mention of her... friend. She was about to scream her loudest ‘no’ but Seungcheol pulled her so fast, leading her to a tinted glass door, that inside would be the face of her nightmares. Sana hisses at him, but it was unnoticed because of Seungcheol's rush of panic. The door to the meeting room opened, and Sana was pulled inside.
“Ms. Hirai, I have Sana here with me, we'll hear both our thoughts.” An obvious shock was plastered on Momo's face, maybe she was unexpecting of Sana too. The latter wasn't any less of a throbbing mess. She enters the room, footsteps careful not to break glass. It was just Momo and her secretary there, yet it felt like a hundred people gawking at her, watching her every move until she breaks.
“Yeah, Mr. Choi, Ms. Sana, have a seat.” Momo says so calmly.
Ms. Sana? it was so strange to hear out of strained formality. Sana takes a seat next to her manager. Momo also took one next to her secretary. Their undeniable staredown not being put up to rest. A surge of currents and noises flew over Sana's head, any tangible thoughts being pulled out of her body by a pair of round eyes boring into hers with such unspoken emotion.
“So, as we just mentioned a while ago,” The secretary's words barged in, prompting Sana's eyes to land on her. Miss Mui? Was it her name? The secretary had her eyes locked into Momo's, her features so cunning behind that "perfect" face. She was pretty alright, but not in Sana's territory. She was too pretty that it felt like an attack. She looks like she holds antique teacups with her pinky up as a hobby.
“Ms. Sana,” The secretary added, her tone professional but unmistakably pointed, “The reason Mr. Choi brought you here is to address a concern. Given the nature of the cancellation, Forge has been left in a position where compensatory measures need to be taken. Rescheduling, as mentioned, will come with additional costs, including venue rental, promotional reallocation, new technical preparations, among other adjustments. These are not insignificant.”
Seungcheol cleared his throat beside Sana, trying to defuse the edge in the woman's voice, "Right. And, uh, we felt it’d be best to have your direct input on the matter since the band’s availability is key in making this work.”
“But, wouldn’t that be something for you and Jihyo to handle? She’s—”
“They already gave their input,” The secretary interjected, “Mr. Choi wanted the band to be consulted directly since your schedule is tight. The rescheduling window we’ve identified might conflict with other commitments.”
“Which window?” Sana asked.
“A month from now, midweek. It’s one of the few slots where we can ensure the venue is available without incurring higher fees. But as you can see,” The secretary didn’t hesitate, her words precise as she handed over a printed schedule. She gestured to the table of figures, “This pushes production costs up by twenty-five percent due to the expedited timeline.”
Sana frowned at the numbers, her fatigue making it harder to process. “Twenty-five percent? That’s… a lot.”
“It is.” The secretary agreed, not unkindly but with an air of finality that left no room for argument, “It’s the consequence of moving a fully planned event. Our suppliers require rush fees, and almost everything will need to be re-launched from scratch.”
“But the cancellation was due to an accident.” Sana's voice was far from her defiant tenor. It was even downcast at some point, carrying the weight of the cancelled show on her shoulders.
“Ms. Hirai here also decided to waive cancellation fees as you may know by now. It was a generous move on her part, even if our contract includes accidents. There is enough financial strain caused by this last-minute change.”
Sana felt a pang of guilt that twisted her insides. She didn’t know how to respond—how to express the jumble of frustration and shame swirling in her chest.
“Right, so the question now is whether the band is willing to accommodate this date. If not, we have to explore alternatives, but the options will only grow narrower the longer we delay. Sana, you know we have something planned to be released on the window of the date, but are you willing to move it?” Seungcheol chimed in.
“Is this okay not to be decided now? I mean, I'll ask for my other bandmates’ opinion too?” Sana's eyes flicked to Momo, who had a look she couldn’t quite place. She hasn't said another word since the half-assed greeting earlier.
“You’ll need to decide quickly.” The secretary replied, “The longer we wait to confirm, the more expensive this becomes. Our team has already absorbed significant losses to accommodate your initial cancellation—that was frankly, unpaid. And Mr. Choi, it would be best to have scheduled a meeting including the band from the get-go, so there are less delays.”
“Noted on this. Our apologies, Ms. Myoui, Ms. Hirai, we'll do better on our part.” Ms. Myoui, that was her name.
“It's okay.” Momo bows along with Seungcheol. Her soft voice filling the air, a wisp in Sana's ears that made her face drop.
“But we do expect less or none of these incidents again.” Ms. Myoui butts in.
“Yeah, we apologized. You can't expect an accident to happen anyway.” Seungcheol’s eyes were filled with horror from Sana's tone—exhausted, but it was like putting up one last fight.
“Miss Sana-”
“Mina,” Momo's voice cut through the exchange, their eyes openly communicating despite efforts of subtlety. It was knowing, like a quick agreement from merely cues. Like they understood each other too well, “It's okay. We'll leave it to them to confirm the details. The meeting can end here.”
The three of them stood quickly after that, Sana followed slowly after, staged smiles filling the meeting room from the lingering tension. Seungcheol reached his hand out for a shake towards Momo, leading Ms. Myoui to reach her hand out as well to Sana. The way their hands slid into a prompt shake had her throat tight. It was a quick exchange, but definitely not a comfortable one. The contact ended and Sana's hands were empty—only for a while, because when Momo reached out for a shake as well, the warmth climbed up to her brain, like engraving a distant memory. Sana let out a long, shaky breath, not realizing that she held it in. Momo was unmistakably dewy-eyed, a sight that sent an ache to Sana's chest. The words were stuck in her throat, it was just gonna be a ‘thank you’ but it somehow couldn't escape her. As if letting it out would make her collapse.
The handshake was longer than intended, making Ms. Myoui nudge Momo to leave already. Sana slowly lets go, those soft and moist palms still burning in her hand, setting in such foolish hope to hold it for a few more seconds longer. A touch she delayed grieving, that it had to rise up again to remind her how enchanting it used to feel. Damn all the things she's been keeping at the back of her head for so long—because that touch was enough for Sana's head to replay the fragments of Momo's touch. Momo's soft touch—Momo's pristine skin that graces her flawed one so fittingly—wretching, knowing, like a buried secret digging itself up from the ground.
And when she took a second look, Momo's eyes met hers in a gripping way. Sana wanted to throw all shame to the window and just… just… pull her… in.
Sana looks away, unconsciously holding onto the table. Momo already left the room, and it took all the remaining strength for Sana not to fall right there and then.
A week had passed, and sleep still hadn’t caught up to her.
Sana stared at her reflection in the hotel bathroom mirror, pressing cold gel masks into the crescents under her eyes. Her hair was waiting to be styled, her outfit hung crisply on the rack, but she couldn’t shake the exhaustion behind her pupils. The adrenaline would kick in soon enough—it always did. That was the trick of the stage, the limelight. It didn’t matter what they are the morning before, they will show up shining on that stage.
By the time the band gathered in the lobby, Sana was sipping on her earl grey latte, sunglasses on to keep the questions away about her lack of sleep. Jihyo did most of the talking, directing them to the courtesy car waiting outside. They piled in, the weight of the upcoming performance hanging in the air, charging them into passion mode.
The drive to the venue was quiet, save for the occasional murmurs about the setlist and stage cues. Sana leaned her head against the cool window, watching the buildings blur past. When the van arrived at the venue area, she straightened, her eyes narrowing at the sea of fans already lined up outside. Some held signs with lyrics from their songs; others were decked out in band merch, chatting excitedly as they shuffled forward in line.
The sight sent giddy feelings in her chest—a smile, a reminder of why they did this. It used to be just the music—but gaining popularity turned it into more of a connection. The lights, the stage, the screams. For a brief moment, Sana's sleepless haze dissolved, replaced by the undeniable rush of being seen, being celebrated for who she always wanted to be—a singer.
Hours later, the stage was ablaze with lights, the thrum of Tzuyu's drums and Yeji's bass reverberating through the whole concert grounds. They were the first to grace the stage with their rhythm. The audience roared, the two guitarists followed—a bright rhythm from Jeongyeon and an intro solo from Chaeyoung.
Sana was last, joining in the stage with jumps as she sang into the mic, her voice raw and alive, and she couldn’t help the flicker of emotion creeping up her spine when a symphony of voices were shouting back to the lyrics that once lived in her notebooks. This was their first show after the accident. Sana had half-expected to falter, to feel the weight of everything pull her under for the past week. But no, the adrenaline drowned it out.
Song after song, Canary Yellow poured themselves out onto the stage, leaving no moment untouched by passion. By the time the final notes rang out and the lights dimmed, Sana was drenched in sweat—a fan calling her to say she wants a drop of her sweat in a bottle to keep in her room. Her chest was heaving in laughter as she took in the crowd’s roar one last time. The band pulled each other into a loose embrace before bowing together, hands clasped, a united front.
It was perfect.
Backstage, it was another kind of buzz entirely. The show ended fairly early in the night, and the owners of the venue had set up an aftershow area for the band and their crew, complete with catered snacks and a lineup of craft beers. Sana's tiredness returned in waves as they settled into the red monoblocs and the long outdoor table, drinks in hand, their post-show high still lingering.
“Hell of a first night back." Chaeyoung says, raising her red cup.
“Cheers to that." Yeji adds, clinking her bottle with the rest of them.
Sana smiles faintly, sipping from her cup, but her mind was distant. She stared at the amber liquid in her glass, watching the light refract through it. A sort of... emptiness. It was probably from the post-concert blues.
The band’s conversations filled the space—banter about the crowd, beating each other up from stage errors and missed notes they hid through a smile, and tentative excitement about the next stop on the tour. Sana chimed in here and there, but her mind lingered on other things. The lack of sleep was starting to creep in more and more, curling around her like a heavy blanket.
Then, Jihyo appeared, her expression far too casual for what came next—“Hey, haha, so, funny thing—Forge was here tonight.”
Sana's stomach dropped.
Her grip on the cup tightened, almost enough to crush it and spill cold liquid on her.
“What?” The word came out hesitant, almost like confirming that it was just one of Jihyo's foolish pranks.
“They're up back, probably gonna stop by and check on us. And, uh, Momo was there.” Jihyo continued, glancing at Sana but oblivious to the war it set off in her head. “They were by the production booth. Just when the show was halfway, they-"
The pulse roared in Sana's ears, drowning out the rest of Jihyo's words. Momo was here? Somewhere, in that crowd or behind those walls, she had been watching. Judging? The thought sent shivers down her spine.
Her fingers fidgeted against the cold cup, her mind racing through every possible reason why Momo had decided to show up. Was this a coincidence? Purely a business move? Or is she as crazy as Sana from the last time they met?
She tried to collect her features, leaning back into the chair and adopting the same casual demeanor as her bandmates. She was not gonna show a weak to face Momo. So, when Jihyo was accepting some people near the tent enclosure, Sana was quick to tough it up.
“Just her and the secretary again?” Jeongyeon whispers.
“It makes sense, she's the assistant.” Tzuyu says.
Jihyo comes near the table with the two. Sana immediately notices how Momo's hand was guiding her assistant's back—her figure like an hourglass in that blazer dress. The length of the skirt was too bothersome, was it even appropriate for business? If Momo was in something as simple as a short-sleeved dress shirt with some jeans, then it's unnecessarily overboard, ain't it?
“Come on and grab a shot, Momo, Ms. Myoui.” Tzuyu pulls two seats, with other staff helping her grab them. There was a significant look of hesitation on Momo.
“It's just Mina, really.” She turned to Momo in an instant, “It wouldn't hurt to stay a bit, right?”
“But- we-”
“Catch up with some old friends. I'm sure they miss you.” Sana swears that woman's eyes are a menace, especially not missing the way she glanced at her with a deliberate smirk.
Momo just chuckles awkwardly, moving towards the seats Tzuyu has given them, even pulling one for Mina before settling in her place. Jeongyeon hands them some beers in a cup which she chose from the catalogue.
“Is this your style, Mina?” She takes a sip.
“Delightfully so.” A sneaky grin made its way to her face after doing a ‘cheers’ motion in the air towards Jeongyeon. Momo's was just shoved casually in front of her, as if she's been a constant part of their gatherings. Which, truthfully, she was once in the thick of it.
“You happen to be in the same city? Or is this an intended visit? If so, it's an honor.” Jeongyeon quips.
“We're in the area for some other things, work things.” Yeah, right. Sana could see the way Mina's eyes flicker with an implication. Work things—Sana scoffs.
“The setup was amazing. Forge never falters. You live up to your name.” Jeongyeon says.
“We're glad to hear that.” Momo replies, the curve of her lip catching streams of the moonlight—or was it just the LEDs in the tent?
“Oh you are amazing artists after all, so you surely deserve a good stage. Momo here couldn't wait to see you play. She says she missed it.”
“What? I didn't-”
“For the production set in general, do you have any adjustments in mind from the past shows?” Mina cut her off.
“No! Everything's perfect.” Yeji says. Simultaneously, a huff can be heard in Momo's direction. She washed it down with a chug of beer, her face wincing from the taste. Not a fan of imperial stout beer, huh?
“What else do you do outside of work, Mina?” Jihyo asks, with Sana calculating her friend's intentions. Or maybe, it was just a normal casual conversation, and she's just making too much of it.
“She's a gamer.” There was a sudden butt in from Momo—chuckling. It had Mina raising a brow, telling her off silently. But Momo seems to find too much fun in it.
“Woah, that's…” Chaeyoung hangs, astonished.
“Yeah, didn't take you for that type.” Jeongyeon also comments.
“Well, Momo here was surprised when she found out too. She was so fascinated, she bought me a League of Legends energy drink collab after she found out so she could spark a conversation with me. That's not even what I play.” There was laughter along the table that had Momo's cheeks burning red.
Now, on Momo's sight of things, she kept bumping Mina's foot underneath the table, signalling her to cut it out, but it was no use. That energy drink incident was her attempt to gain her as a work friend since no one wanted to talk to her during her first month—being the daughter in a conglomerate—a damn nepo baby. Mina seemed like the most genuine one in the office, and undeniably pretty—until her annoying ass was up Momo's nose the moment they got close. She was still a good one though, but currently being annoying again for telling such a half-sided story.
“Did you guys meet at work, or?”
“Yep. I was longer in the company, but Momo ended up being my boss. A Hirai after all.”
“When we knew Momo, we didn't know she had this much up her hands. She was just a college kid.” Chaeyoung shares, Momo exhaling a chuckle from their shared look. She wasn't too comfortable being regarded as a golden daughter with a crazy lineage. She liked blending in, being normal.
“I'm glad you met again in Forge. She's told a lot about the band.” For fuck's sake, Mina. At this point, sweat had started to form on Momo's forehead, her hand creeping its way down Mina's thigh for a sharp pinch. She's sure Mina felt it with the way she flinched.
“Oh?” Jeongyeon’s look was nothing short of teasing and bewilderment, “Did she bad mouth us or anything?” Jeongyeon fakes a whisper, the quip earned her a few giggles.
“She said she's had fun times with you for sure. I've been dying to know, she wouldn't mention the specifics, just that she used to play bass.” Momo kept chanting Mina's name in her head, right next to all the curses she knows. She's surprised no one has noticed yet how beet red her cheeks were becoming, or they just weren't saying anything.
“I didn't believe her until I saw a picture of her in a Fleetwood Mac shirt with the band.” Mina adds,
Fleetwood Mac. Momo curses to herself. There was a vivid image of the scratches on its back print, scratches that weren't there when she first bought it. Its collar turning bacon from a single night full of all the impatient pulling and tugging. She kept that shirt in the corners of her closet, the memory of a specific bergamot perfume sticking to every thread of it. Some things like that, she held onto. Like the memories of a first kiss—failing to be buried no matter how she tried putting it into wake.
The band was all excited ‘Oh!’s, recalling the stream of memories from the night of their first gig together. Well, everyone from the band except the woman at the corner of her senses. Momo couldn't help but pry, a feeling of curiosity, asking the heavens if she remembers it too. And the sign given to her was clear as day—
Sana walking out from the table.
The band was trying hard not to make it awkward, dismissing it as a habitual action. But their subtle glances were enough to send crazy thoughts over. Mina wasn't any less—with her leg bumping hers repeatedly under the table, she had one thing in mind—but it would definitely be foolish, right?
I mean, it could just be an ordinary excusing of oneself to the restroom without making a scene, and she'll just end up embarrassing herself. It probably didn't even mean anything, but Momo was suddenly hyper-aware of her every breath. Her chest was heaving so tirelessly from deafening pulses, muffling the continued conversations, slowly detaching her from the grasps of reality and crowding her head with too many voices. Momo, no, Momo, no, Momo, no, no, no—but her feet betrayed her,
Mind a runaway train, Heart a steamboat,
Hell on the loose,
As Momo excused herself to the restroom.
Notes:
I'll start by saying that In The Mourning is one of the most underrated Paramore songs ever. One of their few independent singles. I listened to it just months ago, which helped me start imagining the plot of this story. I was taking a long bus ride that time, listening to Paramore with greenery all around the window's view, and that's when I wrote the base plot of Hallelujah (I was still writing a different SaMo fic that time).
Under The Mattress is also from my own words! (Sana's words now), it's up to you guys to imagine a tune!
And I also want to say thank you so, so much for 100 kudos! This means so much to me as a starting writer, as well as all your comments and reactions! Your support (silent or interactive) is very much appreciated!
Happy reading, everyone! I'll post another chapter tomorrow. I really like the next series of chapters, and hopefully, you enjoy it too. :)
Chapter 15: XV. Careful
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
You can't be too careful anymore,
When all that is waiting for you
Won't come any closer
You've got to reach out a little more.
Sana knew she was being stupid.
But she had to save herself. A moment more and she would falter. Her cheeks were starting to coil up an indistinguishable heat that reached her nose, and to the cloudy haze building up in her eyelids. Her face was starting to numb from the overwhelming feelings.
The mention of the picture was enough to send weakening cues to her body. She vividly remembers how Momo's fingers had run up too high in her skirt while a phone was snapping photos over the table—not a clue of the turmoil taking place underneath; so unaware of how her hips moved impatiently in hopes to send such an oblivious-looking woman the signals. Was she teasing? Or was she unmindfully casting a spell on her? It was the least she expected to happen that night, but nothing could erase the detailed flashes of it. Buried memories that run deep in Sana's mind, suddenly being shovelled open by a mere mention of the damn photo.
So, Sana steadies herself at a corner hidden behind large stacks of black boxes containing stage gear. The blurring atmosphere had her looking up with deep inhales and exhales, her hand fanning her eyes as if it really did something to keep the wet build-up from falling down. She breathes. Again. And Again. A droplet was starting to break the barrier—hurting her throat, aching to fall, and Sana, so firm and strong, felt the exhaustion deluging, her chest a different pattern of breaths—no, stop, stop, Sana, you're better than this—
“Sana?”
“Why are you here?” Sana was quick to relay her thoughts, and completely displeased. Momo was breathless, standing near the black boxes with her eyes in shock, as if she didn't just follow her.
It was enough for Sana to keep her tears from overflowing, because once they escape, Momo will probably just call her pathetic. In righteousness, there is a space to mourn—and in no way was Sana deserving of any grief in the light of her lapses. That's what she believes.
“I don't know,” Momo manages to catch her breath, but the tremble in her words still registered with Sana, “You left.”
“Doesn't mean you have to follow me.”
“But I did.” Momo says so obviously, brows furrowed—was she mad? “I wanted to check if you're okay.” A rather distant tone, ironically so.
“Why wouldn't I be?” Sana laughs, a sarcastic one, “Why would I not be okay, Momo?”
“I don't know,” a frustrated sigh, “I don't know, okay?”
And just like that, the air between them thickens, making it hard to form words between the silent toil. Their eyes were tainted, like warriors that provoked each other in broken faith, too focused and unmoving. Calculating each dilation with roughened eyebrows.
“Go back. Mina might be looking for you.”
“Oh? Why would she?” Sana had a confused look.
“You left her there.”
“I don't think that matters, Sana.”
“It does to you, to her.”
“What… are you implying here?”
“Nothing short of what you're flaunting.” Sana registers the faint chuckle, which made her furrow her brows more, a sort of rage making its way to her, “Don't act all innocent. I know it, Momo. You don't have to spring it up my face. Give it up because you win, okay?”
“You know what exactly?” Momo asks, quite the mocking grin instead of the earlier furrowed look. It's provoking, actually, her satirical cues calling Sana pathetic, “What exactly am I winning here?”
“Just go.” Sana looks away, huffing out the returning heat in her nose. But the action has caught her in the worst—her eyes starting to cloud once again. Sana hates it. She hates that she knew what was coming next. And she didn't need Momo to see any of that. Not with the undoing smirk on her face.
And yet, her eyes betray her.
“Momo, just go.” Sana hates the crack in her voice, making itself known through the words. Momo not moving an inch just made her tears cascade harder. Sana covers her mouth to muffle the sobs, her hand helping her keep whatever's left of her.
“I’m not going anywhere.”
“So here’s the deal,” Mina had all the power to control the table's reaction—just like now. The band was calculating their looks, too feared and careful about their body language. It was an amusing sight.
“Momo and I aren't together.” The gasps were loud. Such fun from being a headturner, “I'm just getting a reaction from your bandmate.” Mina adds, chuckling so carefree, as if they weren't just gripping to their seats a while ago.
“What the-" Jihyo whispers in disbelief.
“I'm sure Tzuyu had a hunch?” Mina directs to the girl who has been quiet in the corner the whole time. She suddenly groans.
“It was weird enough at the hospital. Even with the silence I felt like they were gonna explode anytime. When I saw Momo soaked I thought that was too much for plain chivalry.”
“So… you're saying… that they still like each other?” Jihyo asks, Yeji lets out an accidental gasp. She may have been late to the party, but she knew every detail from her bandmates’ point of view.
“On my part, you can save yourself from the guess. Momo is… let's just say, coiled, around Sana.” Mina says, dropping her friend altogether. She chants silent apologies in her head though, hoping it's enough to make up for it.
“When Sana and I were recording…” Chaeyoung interjects, “It was that song. You know the one she wrote for Momo that she doesn't admit too? And she was so out of it, I feel like the song got to her.”
“Oh dear.” Jeongyeon sighs, “I don't know. I've been rooting for them, but I don't think this is pure good news.”
“It isn't—yet.” Mina says, "But Momo following her would turn one thing into another. Just hoping she's not stupid.” Jeongyeon snorts a laugh.
“It's Sana who's supposed to be not stupid.” Tzuyu interjects, the rest shaking their heads.
“Your bandmate and I set off on the wrong foot.” Mina chuckles, “She probably hates me.”
“Depends on what they talk about, you'll eventually clear your name, Ms. Myoui.” Jeongyeon quips.
“Just. Mina.” The roll of her eyes had them bursting into a fit of giggles. The table was definitely a lighter atmosphere—being able to freely pick on their friends and all. Not such an honorable choice, but they do have their reasons.
“Say we set them up tonight?” Chaeyoung suggests, “Does Momo have any other schedules?”
“Nothing I can't cover.” Mina winks.
Boiling milk in the stove requires a heck load of attention—everyone who made a mess in their college dorm would probably be aware by now.
Momo knows it too, definitely, being one to find joy in cooking.
So why is she cleaning burnt splashes all over her countertops and walls?
The whole scene is so not like her—she’s usually focused, and even overbearing with tasks at hand. But a simple boiling of milk was not even achievable. Her head had been flying over the pacific since the events from earlier night. Mina had been so painfully noisy in the car, but she didn't even remember a thing the woman said. The night skipped over her conscious sense, well, it did start when she saw Sana crying.
Sana, crying.
It's honestly unbelievable, even her fragmented dreams in the past always showed Sana as someone tough. But the last time she also saw her crying was at a random sidewalk, reason still unknown.
But earlier, it was different.
Momo tries best not to think too much of it. The hug, and all that—it’s been terribly delaying her night routine. Momo had been planning since morning to cook herself kurobuta pork roast, but she somehow ended up with cereal—don’t judge her for preferring hot milk with it, though.
But just as Momo was about to have her first spoonful, her phone suddenly rang from multiple messages. She sighs, pushing away her chair to head to the living room.
Momo opens the phone,
And then, her whole world shakes.
A second later and Momo was dashing to the door, a hoodie on and whatever pair of shorts she grabbed. Her cereal left forgotten on the table.
Momo's hands were trembling as she stared at the text on her phone, she barely remembered fumbling for a taxi.
“Momo, it's Sana, I need help. Please. Something bad came up in my room. The rest of the band isn't answering. Come quick. Please.”
The cab driver asked Momo's destination, and her voice cracked as she said the hotel Sana gave her through text. The driver was saying something about it being two cities away, but Momo tells him to "Please, just go, I'll pay whatever you ask."
Her mind raced, reading the words over and over as if they’d magically transport her to Sana. The screen blurred from the tears welling in her eyes. The cab sped off, and Momo was just staring at the windshield view of roads passing over them, her heart pounding erratically against her ribs. She couldn’t sit still, her legs bouncing nervously as the minutes dragged on.
Every image in her mind turned grotesque—Sana lying on the floor, maybe unconscious, or worse? No, please no—Momo tries to shove them down, but they somehow claw their way back, making her head ache with anxiousness.
She kept checking the time, wishing the car would go faster. Every turn of the wheel felt like an eternity wasted.
"Sana? How are you? I'm coming. Are you okay?"
Her text a while ago—no reply.
"Please hurry." Momo urged the driver, her voice cracking again. He didn’t speak, but Momo thankfully heard the roaring sound of the engine getting louder.
Her mind started shitting on her again. What if Sana had needed her earlier? What if this was her fault? She shouldn’t have left things unresolved—shouldn’t have just stayed quiet. Maybe the hug was her sign?
When the taxi finally pulled up to the hotel, Momo shoved a load of cash into the driver’s hand, she's sure it was more than it should cost, and she didn't bother to wait for change. Her legs felt unsteady as she sprinted inside, her heart hammering as she scanned the quiet lobby, earning her weird looks from a few of the staff.
"Room 413, Sana Minatozaki?" Momo asks the person behind the desk with such great urgency, that even she was in a sudden state of panic. Momo doesn't blame her, it's two a.m.
The lady thankfully leads her to the elevator. Sana must've informed her beforehand—maybe before she fainted, or something. The thought brought back her trembling senses, her foot nervously stomping inside the elevator with every floor smoothing past her. And when it was Momo's turn to go out, she rushes, searching every nook and cranny for a 413.
Bingo.
Momo knocks vigorously, also calling Sana's name while at it. Her nerves knocking out every fiber of her being.
“Sana? Sana! Are you conscious? If you still don't answer, I'm gonna knock the door over!” Momo shouts alongside her knocking, when-
“Momo?”
The room was dark, but the sight was just Sana in... pjs?
Hair tousled and messy, she was rubbing her eyes that were very noticeably red, her face drawn with creases from…
Sleep?
“Why are you here?” Sana's brows were furrowed, her voice had a rasp to it.
Then, it starts to dawn at her—Mina.
Momo sighs to herself. That devilish of a woman probably used a different number to set her up. A scheme of revenge was necessary at this point, Momo bites her tongue to it. But Momo did get to breathe in relief, seeing that Sana was unharmed. Her worries melting away into tiredness, however.
“What?” The woman at the door was obviously impatient, but her tone was now more sleepy than it was angry. Her eyes a certain calmness to it even.
“I'm sorry.” Momo frowns, realizing the trouble this whole thing caused, “This was a set up. I thought something happened. Probably a wrong text.”
“Wait, how did you even get past the lobby…” And just like that, a moment of realization for them both. It couldn't be just Mina. A star of the music scene and security was that lenient with her? Impossible.
“Yeah. There's that.” Momo whistles awkwardly, “I’ll… head out.” She points her thumb elsewhere, a cue for herself to leave.
“Momo.” But Sana's sleepy voice called her.
“Yeah?”
Sana sighs.
“It's late.” Sana's eyes were now a different aura, Momo couldn't help but stare. A memory of a distant past—somewhere in the corners of it, she's sure to have seen it before.
Welcomeness.
“Crash for the night.”
Sana quickly turned, stretching as she walked inside, leaving the door open for Momo. The idea of travelling back two cities away wasn't such a friendly thought. Her car wasn't around to sleep in, and there's probably not an open restaurant to feed her at this time, and she definitely doesn't want to eat a cold, soggy cereal left on the table.
So, she enters, carefully. A foreign weight crashing on her—but it wasn't of dread or despair, it was really just like some wall breaking before her. Like a forcefield imploding. Momo removes her shoes and neatly places it next to a pair or sneakers and some slippers by the door. She locks it, turning painfully slow as if she was about to break glass with every move.
One side of the hotel room was a sofa set, a television wall divider in between served as the separation for the room. Sana was probably there already, getting back into her sleep that she just disturbed. The woman is probably tired from the show earlier, just as Momo was exhausted with a whole day of work—not to mention the single drink she had from Canary Yellow's show that made her head buzz a bit. Momo heads to the long couch.
But Sana reappears from behind the divider, to her surprise, carrying a pillow, and turning on the lights.
“It's okay, I can settle with the throw pillows-”
“What do you mean? You're not sleeping there.” Sana cuts her off. Momo squints her eyes at the girl. Didn't she just tell her to stay the night?
“Oh- Then- I'll leave. It's okay.”
“What?” Sana chuckles, such a swee—Get back in your head, Momo.
“You sleep in the bed. I'm sleeping here.” Sana adds.
“Oh,” Momo trails, “No, it's fine.”
“No, it's fine.” Sana repeats her words in a mocking tone. Momo's face crumpled, "Don't be such a baby, Momo.” Sana throws the pillow next to her on the couch, “Move. I wanna go back to sleep.”
“Don't be such a baby, Momo.” Sana raises a brow. Momo chuckles, feeling proud of herself, as if mocking Sana was a huge achievement. The latter remained standing with hands on her waist.
“You’re playing this game with me, huh?” Sana huffs.
“No, not at all.” Momo shakes her dying laughter, but then pulls up a hand in the air so promptly, “Don't even think of repeating that.”
“Don't even think of repea-”
Momo groans. Sana was now the one with the last laugh. She plops herself next to Momo, who looked so defeated in her seat. Sana was hugging a pillow next to her, unbelievably so, even lying down to her side with her body crouched in half. Momo suddenly felt her thigh being kicked—or really just getting pushed by a pair of feet. It was Sana doing her best to remove her from the sofa. But Momo knew she could put up a fight herself.
So, she sits still, not letting Sana nudge her too far. But the woman groans, kicks getting stronger.
“Ugh, Momo! Go to bed!”
“You gotta do better than that.”
“Like your face?”
“Try me.” And Momo does get kicked—In. The. Damn. Face. It was more like a gentle push, but it did cause her to fall opposite on the couch, her body accidentally laying flat from the outbalance.
“Did you… just… kick my face?” Momo is in utter disbelief. The two girls were a whole mess now—with Sana laughing, and Momo stiffening back up from the sudden fall, “You're unbelievable.”
“You're annoying. You ruined my sleep.”
“It was a set up, okay?” Momo huffs, “You know, I'll just go. You don't have to take me in anyway.”
“Hey,” Sana pulls her in place, and it skips a beat in her chest. Sana's hands were like that of moisturizer models on TV—pillowy, soft, a bit damp. But her hold was oppositely hard, “I told you to quit being a baby and sleep on the bed. You took an hour-long cab ride, yeah?”
Momo didn't answer.
“I’m sure you don't want to do that again, do you?” Sana asks again while fixing her position on the couch. Her body now facing upwards and legs curled, toes hitting Momo's thigh. The latter only sighs.
“I'm not comfortable with you sleeping on the couch.”
“Chivalrous.” Sana teases, “You're impossible.” Her feet start climbing it's way up on Momo's lap—hitting her skin from the choice of shorts she put on. Sana rests her legs on Momo's lap. Unbeknownst to her, the woman was stiff in her seat for some darn reason. Maybe the sudden warmth? Or the weight? It's probably just that, right?
Between them was a silence that lasted in the air, but in Momo's head, she remembers the events earlier at the post-concert. Was this a sign of their new beginnings? Well, it was nothing like how they used to be, for sure, but at least, it was a clean slate? Momo doesn't know if earlier made it better or only made it worse for her, welcoming some possibilities that she would've just thrown out the window by now, if it weren't for the hug, and-
And in between her thoughts, her stomach growled.
Sana suddenly shuffles in her position, and under a second, she props herself up, withdrawing her legs from Momo's lap which made its surface feel gruesomely cold—as if Sana's skin had been a blanket, suddenly being pulled away without a warning.
“You’re hungry?” Sana asks, peering her head in front of Momo with surprise in her tone.
“I-” Momo suddenly feels an insane rush, does she really have to tell Sana she didn't eat her cereal because of a text from a random number?
“I'm good.” Momo says instead. She believes it's absurd. But Sana clicks her tongue, which honestly makes her flinch a little.
“All I have is ramen in my suitcase. You fine with that?” Momo didn't even get to nod before Sana leaves the couch, probably rummaging through her things inside the room.
There wasn't a dining table in the hotel, so Momo stayed put at the sofas while Sana was shuffling from the room to the pantry counter by the door. Momo could see her every move. The room was still pretty small, it's just a standard hotel room after all—perfect for touring musicians, not even a place to cook, just a spot to make instant tea and a divider they call a "bedroom". The quiet hum of the air conditioner and the electric kettle were the only things making a sound.
At the corner of Momo's eyes, Sana leans against the counter, arms crossed, waiting for the water to stop boiling.
Suddenly, a clicking sound, and with a flourish, Sana pulls out cup noodles in front of Momo, holding it aloft like it was a trophy.
“Here.”
“Thanks.” Momo nods, a bit too formally which makes Sana scoff a giggle.
“A sustenance. A gift to humankind.” Sana hums, placing the two ramen cups on the coffee table, even sniffing as she does so. She grabs some wooden chopsticks from the pantry and sets herself once again next to Momo on the couch.
“You hungry or not?” Sana asks in disbelief. Quite the right reaction for Momo who wasn't touching hers while Sana was already opening the foil lid after three minutes.
“Yeah, I am. Yes.” Sana snorted, shaking her head as she ripped open the seasoning packets.
“What? You didn’t walk in here expecting steak, did you?”
“Of course not.” Momo says it as a whisper, “First time's first.”
“The fuck?” Sana gasps, “Never had… instant ramen? Before? Ever?”
“Eh. Not the instant kind, no.” Sana blinked, then all of a sudden burst out laughing, whistling in between in her usual teasing tones. Momo could just melt in her seat. Why eat these anyway? It was always easier to get fresh ingredients from the store and make a proper ramen bowl? Right? Don't a lot of people do that?
“What are you? From mars?” Sana opened the cup for Momo, “Come on, don’t look at it like that. It’s not gonna explode. Probably.” Momo's lips crumpled into fear, and it was another cue for Sana to burst into a fit of laughter. Sana always had two types of it that Momo knew—a low-pitched one for teasing and demonic scheming, and; her high-pitched laugh that tells you she can't breathe anymore. At this moment, it was the latter.
“I forgot you were the rich girl, god. Corporate royalty, high-functioning heiress, whatever you wanna call it. Not even having an eating instant ramen phase in college and you call that a life."
“Don't call me that.” Momo's face was sour. It was a challenge to just pick up that cup and get it over with. It's not gonna be that bad like her mother says, right? Momo breaks her chopsticks in half, digging in the smoking abomination,
And it… was pretty much… terrible.
But the hunger somehow made it taste like Heaven. On. Earth.
“Welcome to the human world, Momo.”
As they ate, the words were long gone. Long gone until a silly moment where Sana put on a mukbang YouTube video on the television, and then an interview with Cate Blanchett, a celebrity gossip channel, and, well, it was suddenly National Geographic.
And that's also when Sana found them a beer each in hand. Thanks the hotel goddesses that graced them with one case of cold beers. Somehow magically appearing in her fridge that wasn't there last night.
“You've ever had weird fans?” Momo was feeling a bit numb on the shoulders to the neck, pinching the exposed skin on those areas. It was an effect of drinking. She never became a good drinker. She gave up from two clubbing attempts after the whole… breakup dread—maxing her card in one, and failing an exam in the other, which has never happened before in her life. She had to owe her brothers a lump in her allowance, and begging them not to snitch to their parents.
“No, I love my fans.” Sana answers her question, but Momo wasn't buying it, she gave Sana a look with her now drowsy eyes, the latter finally breaking character, “Ugh. Shit on you, Momo.” And Momo just laughs.
“There was a time I was drinking out with Chae. A random woman approached me. She told me she was a fan and memorized practically everything I’ve said about myself on the internet and recited it to me. That was normal, but it got weird when she didn't even have any idea who Chae was, asked if she was a family member or something. Then she tried to sell me illegal shit, and downright just got mad when I said no. She gave me a banana before she left.”
“That's a… unique experience.” The two burst into laughter.
“How’s Jeongyeon and Nayeon putting up?” Momo asks.
“Mm, yeah, about that,” Sana says in between sips of her third bottle, “They broke up. Just three months ago.”
“Oh? How long were they together?"
“Five years maybe? They were never together, though. They just did this push and pull thing until Jeong got sick of it.”
“Five years of that? I’m surprised she put up with it.”
“Jeongyeon is a bit intense, don't you think?”
“Always took her for the womanizer type. She could pass for it.”
“No way, she's sweet.” Sana laughs, “You're bad at reading people.”
“I thought Tzuyu was the sweet one.”
“Oh please,” Sana snorts, “What’s next? You took me as a tooth-rotting angel too?”
“Eh,” Momo nudges her head to the side, “You were sort of a crazy demonic woman.” Momo earns a hit on the arm, and burst out into giggles. She fell dramatically on the couch from the hit, somehow the alcohol was starting to make her light. Sana makes an indistinguishable face of being weirded out, but ended up laughing with her anyway.
Further into the night, Sana recounted snippets of life in the limelight—the secret industry tea, the good things of being in it, the new setup far from the garage and cheap studio rentals. Momo listened, nodding occasionally, but offered little of her ‘boring’ office life in return.
By the time Momo's head started to droop, the last beer in her hand forgotten, Sana sighed in giggles. It was roughly four in the morning.
“Alright, lightweight. Bedtime.”
“I’m fine.” Momo mumbled, though her slurred words betrayed her, until she had ultimately fell to the cold floor, laughing as she was getting ready to sleep, with Sana trying her best to pull her up.
“Momo, you’re not sleeping on the floor.”
Momo stumbled slightly, eventually giving in to Sana's pull, even leaning against her for balance. Sana was just grunts, Momo was always heavier than she thought, for a girl slightly smaller than her.
“You’re… nice.” Momo muttered sleepily, her face a little too close to Sana for family-friendly TV.
“Don’t let it get to your head.” Sana whispers, guiding Momo to the bed with a few stumbles. She hopes the bedside clock they knocked over wasn't broken.
“I'm fine, Sana.” Momo says in her drunk state. Sana recalls how it even got to that point. One thing they were talking so casually, the next and Momo's looking like she chugged a whole bottle of tequila.
“Sure you are.” Sana guides Momo to the bed, lying her down. She climbed up as well, all hesitation thrown out the window. The fatigue from the earlier concert and the rest of the night sinking in. The couch didn't sound good right now.
"I haven't drinked like this in ages." Momo was hiccuping in her words. A few giggles even.
"That was just four beers Momo." The knocked-down woman just hummed. Sana shakes her head as she fixed the blanket.
“You staying?” Momo mumbled, half-asleep.
“Yeah.” It came out as a whisper as Sana hugs herself on the far side of the bed. Momo's legs were all over the place, and it felt like lasers she had to avoid, “Just don’t hog the blanket.”
“M’kay, me careful.” Momo chews her words, “Good night, Sana.”
“Good night, Momo.”
“I'm not going anywhere”
And yet, Sana's sobs grow louder.
Momo witnessed her walls crumbling—Sana crouching on the ground in muffled sobs, shoulders shifting unevenly. Momo’s feet were dragging, placing itself in front of the woman. She kneels in one knee, levelling herself with Sana—who had her eyes covered with both hands. The smokey makeup on her face, ruined.
A hug, and it somehow had Sana sobbing harder, if it was even possible at that point where it felt like her world was burning into ashes.
“Should've held you this hard.” Momo says, “Shh. It's okay.”
“I'm sorry,” Sana says between sobs, and it somehow did a number on Momo's nerves, her face calling a certain heat to it, “I'm sorry- Momo… I'm so sorry.”
“It's okay, I'm here.”
“Asshole.” The word causes Momo to let out suppressed chuckles. Sana's hands were now gripping the collar of her shirt, her fingers brushing so lightly on the skin. It was such little but such large—a feeling that made Momo's chest riot.
“Not the words I expected to hear. But, eh.”
“You’re too good, that you're being an asshole.” Sana kept sobbing on her chest, Momo felt parts of her clothes getting damp, “Go away. She's looking for you.”
“Mina is not looking for me. Don't worry.” Momo felt funny letting it roll out of her mouth. Did she even have to be explaining?
“Why’d you even come back?” Sana's words cause Momo to raise a brow, “You’re making it hard for me to forgive myself.”
“Don't blame yourself for it, I thought?” Momo was starting to feel a lump in her throat. She always thought witnessing Sana in plain silence was the worst, but her being all defenseless just did the same heartache. Momo bit the sides of her mouth, feeling an uncomfortable buildup in her nose.
Sana's grip on her clothes was getting stronger with her sobs, and Momo's walls started to crumble with hers. She could feel drops down her cheeks—a sense of guilt, somehow, for even doubting if it was real.
And at that moment , she felt a hand wrapping her frame, setting itself tightly to her back.
“Momo.”
“Hm?”
“Stay here a little more.”
Notes:
Phew, finally got that out of the drafts...
Was actually fixing this since yesterday, as a promised update. But it didn't push through because it somehow kept deleting itself (I write on docs and just format and proofread it here), and got a bit frustrated, LOL. But I'll be posting another chapter later, for real this time!
And again, happy reading! I hope this chapter is a small breath of relief—a small preparation for the next ones *wink*. Let's see how SaMo handles all this.
Thank you so much for all the support and reads!
Chapter 16: XVI. Grudges
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
Strange, how we found ourselves exactly where we left off.
I know you're shaking my hand like it is the the first time,
Are we alright?
3 Years Ago.
Nothing mattered.
Not anymore.
Dialing a phone number she'd keep away to the farthest corners of her reach—Sana felt like throwing up. The taxi driver was an image of Charon, crossing her into the river of hell. But nothing made Sana care anymore, whether she'd get back to safety or burn herself in a pit—it didn't matter.
Her world stopped making sense of itself, the moment Sana thought she was a successful runaway—she always was. So when Sana climbed out the apartment window from the wolf chase, her back taking the impact as she jumped down even, but she had to rush to get back on her feet. Sana took a careless guess of which block to turn to, and she takes off with a taxi not so far in sight. Her heart was pumping itself out of her when she almost got herself to safety—a taxi in mere seconds from her reach,
Almost—because that's when two pairs of strong arms, both in blue uniforms, managed to carry her so effortlessly. And just like that, a dream right at her fingers, slipping away. Just as Sana thought good things were coming through, it always falls down on her like that. Always like that.
So when Sana got out of the cab after leaving Momo's apartment, her feet trembled. She looks up at the sign of the motel, mutters a curse under her breath before entering. All of her self being thrown out of the window now.
“Room 102?” Sana asks the woman behind the tinted glass, and just as she thought, a key was waiting to be given to her.
Sana starts to painfully drag her feet down the long, tight hallways of the cheap-looking motel. It was absurd to even be here—instead of all places to meet at—she knew why.
As so, when the door showed her the dreaded numbers on the signboard, she unlatches it with the key, wiping a tear she didn't even notice was there until now. Sana pushes the door in, an air too tight, a place too dark, and a feeling too heavy,
“Oh? You're here already? And I thought you stood me up.” The woman laughs so thunderously. It was a sweet, cheerful one—too innocent, too pure, but behind the mask, Sana knew too well that it was far from that.
“This place is trash.” Sana firmly says without looking, “You took me here 'cause it's too insolent to see yourself outside with another woman?”
"Hey, I'm happy that you called. Let's not ruin that, please?” The woman stands up from the bed, meeting Sana at the door, “Lock the door now?”
The woman comes near, noticing that Sana was unmoving. She begins with a rough hold on Sana's waist, quickly kissing her neck with a few bites that made Sana's eyes swell with growing tears. She despised it.
“I'm not here for that, Dahyun.” Sana bites her tongue, a firm tone that came with the rage coiling up in her throat, she hated that name for ages. “Don't act like we're still together.”
Dahyun pushed herself away from Sana's neck. A mad huff. Her temper in private was far different from how she looked and appeared in public—so pure. She had the mighty image—a young doctor, a community volunteer, the perfect daughter—too perfect, for all it's worth.
"Then why'd you even call me over? It's a good thing I even agreed on it after you ghosted me!"
"Ghosted you? It's your parents who left me to the wolves with that rent scheme. I got arrested, you fucker." It was true that Sana left so abruptly, not giving the girl anything—no words, no signals, nothing. Sana became so good at hiding. But Dahyun was already slipping away even before that.
Sana met Dahyun a month after being kicked out of the house. Chaeyoung was the connection that brought them together—she was a regular at the cafe Chaeyoung used to work at. Dahyun was the quiet girl who always had her anatomy books on the table, nice and smiley when greeted by the staff—as per Chaeyoung's words. A chance meeting at a busy cafe and Dahyun treated them to a meal after her training shift. It was then and there where she asked for Sana's number, and although the latter wasn't interested at first, Dahyun was persistent. Until eventually, they started dating—secretly.
But it was just a week in that Dahyun introduced her to her parents—not as a girlfriend, but as someone looking for a job. It was perfect, given that they owned an apartment, because Sana was given the job of the landlord. She was the happiest—a college dropout who never had a job and was broke, suddenly being highly regarded like that, and even highly paid. It was all going well, with Dahyun being by her side even through casual visits at the apartment, spending time with Sana despite being busy for her medical residency. Showering her with gifts and flowers every week that it felt too much, but adoringly so. Sana sometimes even paid for a whole day at the studio with the band. Everything in her life was perfect.
Well, at least for the first month.
She started seeing the signs—Dahyun was becoming a bit ill-tempered whenever she visited Sana at her apartment after her shift. She was also being less and less able to pick Sana up for her gigs even when it was her rest day. It's either she's tired or that her parents can't be suspicious about seeing them together all the time. Dahyun never even had the chance to watch any of their gigs at that. And whenever they met, it slowly became all about the intimate rounds, not even a proper conversation to ask about her day. And suddenly, it's another week before they see each other again. But Sana didn't mind at first.
Yet another problem rose with the growing complaints of the tenants about a certain “key money” that Dahyun’s parents had to return to them upon moving out. Sana had no idea what the hell it was, she was just there to collect their payments and drop them off to the bank. But she tried asking Dahyun about it—the answer was always “I'll remind my parents.” “Relax, it's not a big deal.” “They’re too busy right now”, and Sana tried reaching Dahyun's parents directly, but they stopped answering the phone.
Her bandmates didn't know. But her depleting look definitely showed. The pressure from the apartment tenants, Dahyun not having enough time for her, her temper being more and more bothersome, and the few gigs that kept her up wasn't nearly enough to make up for the delayed salary she was getting. She didn't plan to tell the band about it, not so soon, but one drunk night and she cracked—after finding out Dahyun was driving home a woman from shift every night. It made her confess everything to the band in tears.
“Oh come on, it was just a carpool!” Dahyun's defense.
“But why didn't you tell me? And then I wouldn't have been calling you up to ask if you could pick me up. You should've just said you're occupied.”
“And what? You get jealous like a stupid teenager?”
“Since when did I even act like that, Dahyun? You don't have to get too defensive.”
“Defensive?” Dahyun sighs, massaging her fingers to her forehead. An image too repetitive in Sana's head, “Can we not fight about this? It's not a big deal, Sana.” Of course, it always wasn't a big deal. Too unimportant, that she even stomached initiating for some intimacy with her that night. Sana laying on the bed as Dahyun's figure was knocked out next to her was her cue to go back home to Jeongyeon's place, and hide from everything.
After Sana tells her she got arrested, she looked a bit shocked, even.
"Oh? How long were you in?"
"Fuck you." Sana steps back, “I suggest you pay up and settle it with me before my lawyer gets to you.”
“You? And a lawyer?” Dahyun faintly laughs, gripping Sana's arm which even hurt a little, “Threatening now, huh? You won't like it either if my parents find out about it. They'll ruin your life, Sana, you know that."
"Already ruined. The hell I care." Sana pulls away, unlatching the door so quickly, and leaves, shivering as her feet were walking so fast it felt like running. To her relief, Dahyun didn't bother following.
“Jeong?” Sana was talking to her on the phone on the cab ride back to Momo's place, muffling her sobs.
“What happened!” Panic from the other line.
“Pick me up, please? Is your place free to crash?”
“Of course, love. Why? Did they find you again? Is the police there? Or did Momo do something stupid?”
“Momo…? No- Jeong, no.” Sana's sobs grew louder.
“Okay. Let's talk later. I'll see you, yeah?”
“Mhm.” Sana nods, as if Jeongyeon would even see it. She ends the call, and her stupid phone opens to a stupid lockscreen.
Sundown, near that cliff above the river.
“I'm sorry. I'm so, so sorry.”
A knock on the door.
Sana's sleep was nothing compared to Momo's tight one. The latter's mouth was even left open, her joints all in the wrong places, a puddle of saliva on the white hotel sheets. She slept like a child.
The knocks grew louder. Sana checked the time on her phone, and it was already past lunch. She sits up on the bed with a yawn and blurred out vision.
“Sana? We'll be leaving in an hour!" From the voice, she knew it was Jihyo.
“I'm awake!” She shouts to make herself known.
“Get ready okay! Don't sleep again!” Sana raised her voice once again to answer a mumbling ‘yes’, and then Jihyo left. Sana plopped back on the bed, sighing as she felt the soft sheets on her face. Her things were already packed, so she took the newly-awaken minutes on the bed to scroll on her phone. Sana sees the pictures of the band's show from last night, and reposts some of the fans’ snaps on her accounts as well. Her notifications started assaulting her phone more and more.
And suddenly, the woman beside her grunts, twisting in her position. Sana just stares, waiting for her to snap back into reality, until finally,
“Mm. Sana? You're here.” Momo mumbles, shifting her position a couple more times.
“You don't think this is your house or anything?”
“Mm. I don't know. I don't care.” Her drowsiness made Sana chuckle a bit.
“Wake up, lightweight. We're leaving in thirty minutes.”
“Where?” Momo loudly sips the drool off her face, her eyes growing to be more alive now, “Oh god. Did I hog the blanket or anything?”
“Nope.” Momo definitely didn't hog the blanket, but really, it was… something else.
Last night, the moment Momo started snoring, her body moved closer to Sana's—just when she was about to doze off. It shouldn't have bothered her, but the way Momo's arm had wrapped around her stomach loosely, and her leg putting its weight on Sana's, inevitably caused a hitch in her breath. Momo smelled too much like a whole flower shop—like fresh wet leaves. It was such a distinguishable scent, and it mixed with her skin. Sana wasn't able to sleep tight with the careful breaths, careful not to hit Momo's face that looked so gorgeous in black hair, her fringes on the side whenever she slept, showing a clear view of her features. Her lips, the same as before—straight and plump, small curves at both ends. Stupid thoughts about how moisturized it looks and the bright red that begged to be admired. Plain torture.
“Mm. Good to know.” Momo yawns, “My head hurts a bit. How ‘bout you?”
“Four beers? Really?” Sana chuckles, but her thoughts keep flying elsewhere.
“I'm not a good drinker, okay?”
“Yeah. Definitely.” Sana’s silly laugh causes Momo to lighten up as well, the day catching up with them as they start to get ready to leave. Sana did her bathroom rituals, until Momo knocked on the door, needing to pee. Sana gets out with a towel around her, seeing how Momo finished tidying the bed already. Sana sits on it, wetting the sheets with the falling droplets from her hair, and minutes after, she had to knock on the door because Momo was taking a looong while to pee, and they almost had to go now. Jihyo was texting her like a menace.
“Sorry.” When Momo came out of the bathroom, her face was undeniably flushed. Her actions jumpy and flustered. And to Sana, this came out a bit weird. What did she even do? But Sana didn't bother to ask and bully her about it because they were running late, and Sana still hasn't put on her facial creams.
The band was already in the lobby when Sana and Momo stepped out of the elevator. Chaeyoung was the first to notice, her face lighting up with an exaggerated expression of surprise.
“Momo!" Chaeyoung exclaimed, her voice dripping with theatrical innocence. Sana thinks it's too much. It was an obvious setup from the get go. And twelve random beers in the fridge? Really now? “What are you doing here?"
“Staying in the same hotel? What a coincidence. Is this fate?” Jeongyeon's words were nothing short of teasing, a smile that looked far too innocent.
"Uh, no." Momo says carefully, which makes Sana stifle a laugh.
"So, you're here because of..."
"Naughty naughty." Tzuyu's quiet voice made Momo's face very visibly red. Half of the band was in fake, exaggerated gasps, and the others stifling their laughs.
“Oh god, enough." Sana cuts in, rolling her eyes. “Can we not play twenty questions right now? Let's just go. She's here because she's here." Sana strode ahead, motioning for Momo to follow. She does so. And as they stepped into the lobby’s pickup bay, the scene beyond the glass doors unfolded like a festival. A sea of fans pressed against the barriers, their phones out, flashes firing at them like sequins on fabric. The roar of their excitement filtered faintly through the glass, muted but relentless.
Momo's steps slowed as she took in the crowd. Sana notices, and her gaze flickered to her hands sinking inside the sleeves of her jacket, a few creases on it, probably from Momo pinching the insides of it.
"Momo," Sana calls her, and the woman raises her brows a bit too quickly, and a bit jumpy too, "You good?"
“Yeah, totally fine.” Momo said too quickly. “I’ll just... grab a cab back to the city.”
“What are you, insane?" Sana clicks her tongue, "We have guards. You'll come out alive."
"I don't know..."
“Come on, stay near me. It’s just people. You talk to them all the time at work, yeah?" Sana giggles. Momo hesitated but nodded. As they moved closer to the exit, Sana had a pull to step closer, yet a hand suddenly brushes against hers. She didn’t say anything, as the surface of their knuckles stay magnetic, brushing so lightly every second. Sana's mind suddenly takes a 180 degree turn to last night... Momo's hold onto her, Momo's scent, Momo's skin—fuck, Sana. Stop it.
They stepped outside, and the sound of fans cheers hitting like a wave. Sana notices Momo's steps faltering. But what Sana did next was a shock to herself as well, not too well-thought of,
As she hooked Momo's pinky in hers.
Momo abruptly turns her head to her. The space was crumped between them and the band, Sana figured others wouldn't notice. But Momo's eyes darted around even crazier than before. Sana looks back, intending to give her a firm look to relay a "Just follow my lead", but she gets lost in Momo's eyes for a split second that her throat dried out. They stared at each other for what seemed like an eternity, until Sana looked away, but her hand stayed in place.
Jihyo led them past the crowd with practiced ease, bodyguards that split a way towards the van. The band occasionally took papers to sign and flashed smiles for photos. Sana kept Momo within arm’s reach—or pinky's reach—glancing back every now and then to make sure she was still there, and that she was was. She looked like a child with the hood on, and it made Sana smile.
Just as the band was starting to feel the usual rhythm of navigating the crowd, a little bit more and they'll enter the van, a voice cut through the noise, sharp,
“Sana!"
The name froze her mid-step. She turned toward the sound, her eyes scanning the crowd. And then she saw them.
An unmistakable sight,
Her... parents.
Sana's stomach plummeted, the air suffocating around her all of a sudden. Her mother was waving frantically, her father doing the same beside her. They were trying to push past the barriers, but the guards held firm.
Sana's breath hitched. The crowd felt closer now, the noise louder, the flashes brighter, and her palms began to sweat.
“Sana, hey, it's okay, come on, towards the van.” Jeongyeon was fast to wrap her arms around her, her voice came from somewhere behind her, but it felt far away. The band was also quick to form subtle barriers nearby, but her world kept spinning as her parents called her name again, louder this time. She could see the questions forming in the paparazzi’s eyes, their cameras swiveling toward the scene.
No. Not here.
Before she could think of what to do, Momo's voice broke through the chaos, steady and clear.
“Hey, I’ll handle it."
Sana blinked, only registering everything when Momo's pinky broke from her hold. She felt a sudden freezing feeling despite Jeongyeon right next to her and the rest of the band huddling her close, and when Sana followed Momo with her gaze, she saw the girl's confident movements, almost commanding, as she approached the guards and spoke to her parents. The words were too low to hear, but the effect was immediate.
The guards let her lead them away from the crowd, Sana's parents and Momo. For a moment, Sana had the urge to run after her, like a kid being lost in a city square, her chest tightening with something she couldn’t name. But before she could even move, the band led her inside the van.
A month, two, three—and six,
Sana was losing sleep.
And herself.
Despite winning the case against Dahyun and her parents, she felt defeated.
She didn't expect any of it, however. Because the moment she escaped to Jeongyeon's apartment, she told the band not to get Momo anywhere near her. Her words were final—if she comes near, lead her away; if she visits, tell her she couldn't be found; if she asks how she is, tell her she's seeing someone else and left.
But no sign of Momo.
But without hearing anything from the girl, the lawyer was still hers to keep. All fees covered. And she won her case. Got both Dahyun and her parents arrested.
But Sana was thankful that Momo wasn't stupid to beg her back into her life. She's thankful that Momo hates her. And that she was just a nice person in nature to not pull out the lawyer. Or maybe she didn't want to waste her money, considering that she paid for her already. Sana tried declining the lawyer, but the band wasn't having it. They made her push through until the final hearing of the case—Sana proven innocent and got paid for the damages.
But with all the compensation, she felt empty.
Sana tried going elsewhere, but Jihyo was fast to find her even before Jeongyeon. The band regularly stayed at Jeongyeon's apartment, doing their best to keep Sana in place, and doing stuff away from music. They watched a lot of movies together, drank together, even tried playing on Tzuyu's switch even if they were no good—and it was only until a year after that Tzuyu brought up a gig for them. The band tried their best to slowly reintroduce the idea to Sana, but at first, it was a sensitive subject.
Tzuyu still watched gigs at different bars in her free time, and that's where she saw a new face—a bassist that sessioned for Comic Replica when Sunmi was absent. They introduced her to Yeji—a cheerful girl who was very new to the scene. She used to have a band back in high school, but the first year of college ceased their commitment. Nonetheless, she wanted to continue playing music. Tzuyu took her to Jihyo's garage—a place Sana knew up to every corner even blindfolded. And when she heard the first note on the bass, Sana knew it was not the same—and that idea somehow helped her get back on her feet. Yeji's bass lines made their songs more bright and upbeat, leaning more into the pop than the rock of their sound,
And it all felt like a different phase of her life.
Sana agreed to play one gig, at the bar they always played at felt which like home. No matter how much music seemed so foreign to her in the past year, the old stage gave her a sense of pride—the only place that made Sana feel good and confident about what she did, dropping altogether the shame she carried in the other parts of her life, replaced by dignity and aliveness.
They started getting back to the scene, making Sana's "one last gig" into a few more. They were doing more sets here and there, Sana picking up that pen and notebook again, recordings in the studio and Jihyo's garage, Yeji turning into their official band member, and now, a set with some new bands in the scene.
“Excuse me?” After their performance, a man in a tailored dress shirt approached them. Specifically directing his words to Sana.
“Yes? Can we help you?” He smelled like a shit ton of beer, though. So Sana and the band's proximity was careful, especially how his movements were a bit flimsy, probably being drunk. A smile still on Sana's face despite it.
“Your band is fucking amazing.” He proceeds to clap—weirdly, but the band bows in thanks. Yet his next words shot them up so fast, eyes widened with surprise,
“My name is Choi Seungcheol, I work for Warner Music group. We're actually looking for new independent artists to join us and I think your portfolio is perfect. I looked you up, you've been in the scene for a while and I think my higher ups will like you, so…” He shuffles through his pockets, until he handed out a small card, and showed a company ID, “Here- oh shit- it's crumpled… But anyway, I'm being for real, not a scam! Visit the building and give me a call if you're interested!”
And things started to change after that. They gave him a call after a deliberate decision. And this time, things changed for the good.
A miracle.
And Sana almost gave up on it.
Notes:
Sorry for making Dahyun terrible here. But anyway, a chapter focused more on Sana's past, her POV after the arrest and after leaving Momo.
I also wanna say that I love this song so much, well, this whole paramore album is a masterpiece as I've said before. Sometimes it's inevitable to painfully grow apart with someone you truly value in your life, but somehow, when you get to meet them in the future, you're both eventually in a better place, and slipping apart had happened for a reason. Letting go, forgiving, starting plain, unforced and along the current—it's what makes us connect in the the most fateful ways.
Just like how SaMo has reconnected once again through such fateful conditions.
Happy reading! I hope you like this chapter as well. Again, I am very thankful for everyone supporting my fic. When this ends, I'll be posting a new one! ;)
Next chapter will be towards the end of the weekend! We still have roughly 6 chapters left. :)
Chapter 17: XVII. Pool
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
As if the first cut wasn't deep enough,
I dove in again 'cause I'm not into giving up,
Could've gotten the same rush from any lover's touch
Why get used to something new?
'Cause no one breaks my heart like you
The van was quiet save for the hum of the engine and the muffled sounds of the fans still chanting Canary Yellow outside the hotel. Momo sat in the seat closest to the door, keeping herself between Sana's parents and the exit. She adjusted her posture, feeling oddly like an imposter in the role of a makeshift bodyguard.
She had the idea from Jihyo and Tzuyu murmuring to each other while in the crowd, strategizing how they'd keep Sana's parents away. That's when she knew they were her parents. Momo had no idea where the confidence to step forward earlier had come from, but maybe it was seeing Sana so stricken, and an obvious panic across her face.
Momo always knew Sana's parents kicked her out and left her to fend for herself, which always struck a bad nerve in Momo because even though her own parents were busy and too uptight at times, they weren't to that extreme. No child deserves to be fed to the wolves, especially for a single mistake. But even Momo doesn't believe it was a mistake—because Sana was just following her dream. And it might've been the last straw for her since her parents probably never listened to what she actually wanted. Now that she's successful as a singer, was it really right to just barge in and act like all of that was nothing?
Truthfully, Momo wasn't aware of the whole setup now. But Jihyo immediately sent her texts after she swifted Sana's parents out of the crowd. As shocked as Jihyo was, she still managed to give Momo instructions on the Canary Yellow team's spare van. The bodyguards while on the way were the hardest thing to go through, but with a few convincing and with the proof of Jihyo's orders, she managed to get themselves inside the van.
Sana's mother was clutching her purse tightly, her legs nervously jumping up and down in her seat. Her father, sitting so rigid, had his hands resting on his knees, his jaw set in a way that spoke of old habits and pride. If Momo didn't know they were Sana's parents a few minutes ago, she did now, just by the features of their faces that resembled Sana's very closely.
“Thank you for stepping in, ma'am. May we know your name?" Sana's mother asks, breaking the silence. Her voice was soft but lined with exhaustion, her eyes darting to the tinted windows as if she could find Sana through them.
"My name is Momo, Mrs. Minatozaki." Sana's family name felt like a buttery roll on her her tongue, such a scrumptious way to say a name. It suited her so well.
“We're sorry for barging in the crowd. We just… we didn’t know how else to reach her.” Sana's mother says once again.
“I’ll talk to her,” Momo says carefully, “But I do think it might be better to approach this in a way that's less pressuring to her. Because of earlier, it might be hard for Sana to talk at the moment.”
Her father huffed, leaning back in his seat. The airy sound made Momo jump in place, wishing it wasn't noticed by anyone of them.
“She doesn't need to stay away.” He says gruffly, though the way his eyes were somber betrayed his words, “We just need to talk to her to see if she’s okay. We heard she got into an accident and it was the scariest thing I've heard in my life."
Momo caught a lump in her throat. By now, she could feel their desperation. Although Sana's father seems like a stoic and firm man, his tone was most defeated. Sana's mother, on the other hand, seemed like she was about to burst into tears. But Sana hadn’t exactly painted a glowing picture of her relationship with them in the past, so Momo stayed foreign to it. She took a slow breath, forcing her voice into something calm and professional.
“She’s fine now. There were minor injuries but Sana is back in her feet." Momo assured them.
“Our Sana works really hard." Her mother's voice was bittersweet and regretful, "She was so independent, even as a little girl. We knew so little about her. But we reflected on ourselves these past years, that we also did so little to reach out to her and give her an open space to run to." Her mother’s eyes brimmed with tears, and she dabbed at them with a handkerchief. She started sobbing a bit, and Momo's brows started to furrow.
“But we're so thankful she grew up to be an amazing person." Sana's father sighs, "We hope we can still be a part of that. Can you relay this to her, Momo?"
"I'll try my best, Mr. Minatozaki."
"Is anyone looking out for her? I mean, does she have someone to count on? I don't want our Sana to feel alone. She needs someone.”
The words settled heavily between them, and Momo couldn’t help the flicker of guilt that came with the words. Once upon a time, she wished she was that person.
But that was... years ago.
“She’s got her band, her team,” Momo answers, her voice quieter now. “But she is tougher than you think."
Sana's mother’s lips quivered, and her father’s shoulders sagged slightly. For all their flaws, there might've been something in them that still cared for Sana.
“She’s our daughter,” her mother whispered, “We just want her to be happy. To know that someone’s there for her, no matter what. Can you stay close to her for us, Momo? You're her bodyguard right? Or the manager"
Momo's lips opened, and immediately pressed shut, unsure how to respond. Pretending to be Sana's bodyguard was one thing—staying detached, professional, was easy enough in theory. But their words spewed in voice cracks were starting to get in her head. Though Momo knows it shouldn't.
“I’ll try my best." Momo said finally, her voice steady. Both parents nodded, though the tension in the air didn’t dissipate. Momo leaned back, crossing her arms over her chest. The role of a bodyguard was starting to feel less like an act and more like a responsibility she hadn’t asked for.
But if it meant Sana didn't have to face this pain alone, she could live with that. For now.
“Jihyo, they're not here, right?” Sana grabbed onto Jihyo's arm, too tight that she felt sorry for the girl. But it wasn't such an easy lump to swallow. She can't see them. Not now.
“It's okay, Sana. They got dropped off already.”
“What about Momo?” It felt so wrong in all ways for Sana to ask, but she couldn't help the feeling that's been bugging her since they left the city. There was no way to contact Momo, not a way to ask what the hell was happening to her and what she just did. But even if she did have her number, Sana knew she had no right to show up on her phone too.
“She managed to talk to them. She was also dropped off at her place. She has work.” The words had Sana's shoulders sagging unconsciously. The heaviness felt more evident knowing that Momo did all that just to leave. And who knows when she'll show up again?
It was always just stupid fate bringing them together.
Sana spent the following nights at Jeongyeon's after rehearsals. Tonight, even Chaeyoung was crashing with them. They brought a bottle of vodka like it was a college house party of some sorts. Although a bit rash, Sana got into the drinks quite well, and into the conversations,
“So you're planning to just stay away from your parents forever?” Jeongyeon asks.
“What else? It's not like anything's gonna change anyway. I'm not who I used to be. Not their daughter anymore. Not the silly little ‘kiddo’ they know.” Sana was feeling a bit drowsy. Tired from the day-long run they had or recordings, photoshoots, and practice.
“I know it's a long shot, but my two cents is that talking to them would give you closure too.” Chaeyoung butts in.
“Yeah, I mean, who are we to tell you what to do, but if your parents would be springing up a lot in the next years, I think it's best to have that one talk to settle both grounds. You don't have to do it now, but you might consider it.” Jeongyeon says.
“Besides, Momo won't be here next time to be your night and shining armor.” She adds, which makes Chaeyoung snort out a laugh.
“Oh she definitely dove in there for a save. If I was Sana I'd fall for her over again.” Chaeyoung earns a flimsy hit from Jeongyeon.
“Shut up,” Sana rolls her eyes, “Anyone of you would've done that.”
“What did you talk about anyway?”
“What talk?” Sana's face was crumpled, giving them weird looks as if they said something so out of the blue.
“Y’know…” Jeongyeon moves her brows, and slowly leans to Chaeyoung who does the same, and in a split second, they were fake-making-out. Sana throws a random chopstick at them and the two fall on the floor in laughter.
Sana's face, however, turned a visible red from the heat that struck her. Jeongyeon and Chaeyoung’s gesture was just plain stupid, and embarrassing. Whatever they were letting on, Sana was definitely not gonna touch Momo like that in a mile.
But then, her thoughts suddenly drift to a specific sight—the strong perfume, the soft fabric of her clothes, her warm skin… moist lips—
“We're just messing with you!” Jeongyeon breaks her reverie, which ultimately makes Sana blush more from the sheer absurdness of thoughts carelessly entering her system. She was definitely feeling too otherworldly from the vodka.
“No but, are you on good terms now or anything? I want to invite her on my birthday.” Chaeyoung says, which earns her a huff from Sana.
“Uh? What does that have to do with me? And there's no bad blood even. Momo probably doesn't even think of me.” The two suddenly start cheering like animals, and Sana props herself up to give them each a hit. She misses just by an inch when the two storm around the house. They keep running like silly little kids playing tag, until eventually, their muscles ate them up. They now lay on the floor, that Jeongyeon thankfully sweeps regularly.
“I know where Momo lives.” Jeongyeon suddenly says.
“The hell I care?”
“Just saying.” She shrugs.
“What?” Sana chuckles, “What are you saying here?”
“Eh. Nothing.” Her tone was an obvious tease.
“What?” Sana sits up, obviously annoyed, “What?”
“Ever wonder how she's been doing?”
“No.” Sana answers firmly.
“Okay.”
“Okay?”
“Okay.” Jeongyeon shrugs.
The three were like stealth bombers in behind a bush. Of course Jeongyeon doesn't know where Momo lives, right? It was just the alcohol that made Sana believe her.
And now, they're at an apartment complex from a certain ‘source’ Jeongyeon acquired. They weren't sure it was true. Might be a bluff, who knows?
“So are we gonna just wait here until she magically appears in the middle of the night?” Sana asks, and Chaeyoung shushes her, reminding about the ‘stealth mission’ they were in. She rolls her eyes.
“There! There!” Jeongyeon points, and Sana's heart starts racing a marathon. She darts her eyes between the people walking, her head peering a bit too far,
“Kidding!”
“Fuck you!” Sana hits her arm, and Jeongyeon accidentally screams loudly. Chaeyoung was fast to cover her mouth, and remind them about possibly blowing their cover. Sana was pushing her away, claiming it was stupid and that she wanted to go home already. Jeongyeon and Chaeyoung were arguing back, telling Sana all the this and thats,
“Shh!” Chaeyoung widens her eyes at them, “Momo's here! Look!”
“You're not fooling me agai—” But Jeongyeon turned Sana's head with her hands before she could even finish her words, and suddenly, she sees a clear picture, and a bolt shot through her system in one go, a breathless hitch,
Momo carrying loads of grocery bags.
“Go!” The two push her away from the bush in whispered shouts. Their gestures were an exaggerated way to tell Sana to head Momo's way, and if the girl wasn't struggling with her bags, she would've noticed them already.
The cool night air hits Sana's face, sobering her up just enough to realize how utterly ridiculous this was. Her legs felt heavy as she crossed the street, each step toward Momo's struggling place on the sidewalk full of grocery bags, the feeling like trudging through quicksand.
Sana tried to focus on anything else. The glow of the streetlights. The crinkle of Momo's grocery bags. The faint sound of laughter from the bush behind her. Really just anything to straighten up herself and not chew her words and run like a coward.
Her palms were clammy, and she wiped them on her jeans, cursing under her breath. Why were her hands sweating? It wasn’t that cold. And it's just Momo,
It's really just Momo.
Momo was just a few feet ahead now, her shadow clear under the streetlamp. She shifted the grocery bags in her hands, her movements rugged and all grunts.
Sana's tongue started to felt heavy, like it was glued to the roof of her mouth. Her pulse pounded in her ears, drowning out the faint buzz of traffic in the distance. She was hyper-aware of the way her own breathing hitched, like her lungs had forgotten how to work properly.
What does she even say? The woman standing right in front of Sana was the same face that unknowingly gnawed at her mind too many times in the past days—her black hair still looking too sharp on her features that it had this certain effect. Thankfully, Momo was far from the corporate-y image, because Sana just wasn't… used to it. It chewed on her stomach in such a weird way. This Momo in a hoodie was a friendlier sight to see.
This is fine—she told herself, just disgustingly weird.
So when Momo was merely a foot away, Sana breathes, ready to embarrass herself,
“Hi!"
"Ah!" Momo suddenly drops three bags at once, and it makes Sana flinch, "My eggs!" Due to the closer look, there were a total of six enormously packed bags in Momo's two small hands.
"Your... what?" Sana snorts out a laughter. The surprised shriek did everything to lessen Sana's shame, also saved by the flush in Momo's cheeks that might be from the shock.
"My eggs," Momo's voice was small—stressed out and defeated, "I think they're broken."
"Need help? You seem feverish." She was still one to put up a banter, feeling a bit eased from earlier’s internal struggle and literal peer pressure. Momo had an offended gaze, but it did nothing to hide the pink in her cheeks under the bright night.
“Why are you here? Are you stalking me?”
“Stalking you?” Sana scoffs, but a certain reminder played in her head for a split second, yet she manages to snap back to reality, “You’re a sight, throwing your big bags all over the pave and all.”
“I can handle it.” Momo firmly says, and proceeds to pick up the fallen bags of what seemed to be groceries. Her car was still probably at the mechanic, or maybe she likes a challenging night workout, who knows which is which?
“Save yourself the trouble.” Sana immediately grabbed the bags which she had flawlessly fit through her hands. It was such an easy feat, she had no idea why Momo was struggling so much. Before Momo could make a sound, Sana was walking towards the sidewalk, and Momo practically had to run after her.
“Wait! Here!” Momo tugs on the hem of Sana's shirt, leading her to a gated apartment complex that looked more like a whole ass city inside.
“Are you fucking kidding me.” Sana whispers to herself as Momo showed her ID to the guard. Just by the looks of it, it was gonna be a long walk, like these people relied too much on vehicles so they didn't give a care about proximity planning for pedestrians. Momo must be insane to decide carrying grocery bags all the way here.
“I can handle it now.” Momo tells Sana, which earned her an eyebrow raise from the girl, “You can go home.”
“You can go home.” Sana repeated her words in a mocking way, which had Momo’s mouth agape, “After I invite you in my hotel room?”
“Sorry.” Momo’s face looked defeated, and Sana thinks it's charming—the vodka, Sana.
The walk to Momo's building was an excruciating ten minutes in silence, save for the occasional grunts and the sound of the grocery bags hitting their knees. They walked the lobby in silence. Pressed the elevator key in silence. Sana starts biting her tongue, she could smell a honeysuckle garden out of Momo from inches away. Did she really have to bathe in perfume for a trip to the grocery store? Or did she meet with someone?
Momo's unlatching of her door pulled Sana out of her thoughts, the movement was too slow and careful, so Sana grunts impatiently.
“Is this your house or are you just breaking in?”
“Is this your house or are you just breaking in?” Sana gasps after the girl mocks her. Once Momo successfully opens the door widely, Sana was fast to navigate the kitchen, rolling her eyes as she placed the bags on the island counter.
On thing that can't be left unnoticed, was that Momo's place is huge. There was a wall with a full window that had an outstanding view of the city. The open plan gave the space its glory. Momo follows after her, placing the bags on the counter as well.
And still, silence.
The strangeness lingered too much in Sana's head that she was driving the back of her hips onto the counter, clutching the ends of it. Momo was in front, swaying back on forth near the kitchen nook, catching her breath, hands resting on her sides. Subdued pendant lights served as the sole brightness of the place. She couldn't help but notice the humble glow of Momo's skin—the exposed parts of her neck uncovered by hair, and her cheeks that were so fair and pinkish. The changes in how she loooked had somehow started to catch her eye in a disgusting way—as if she was a pervert of some sorts. It felt so criminal all of a sudden.
“Hm?” Momo hums in question. And Sana just realized that she was gawking.
“Oh?” Such an idiotic sound—a response to the confused girl in front of her. The voice snatched her from lingering thoughts.
“What?” Momo's head was peering sideways, an expression that didn't bait her—didn't taunt her. Just eyes too moist and innocent.
“What?” Yet impatience was laced into Sana's voice, repeating the word once again with an added guard, like she was caught.
“Are you planning to stay the night?”
“Why? Is someone coming over?”
“Why would someone come over?”
“You know,” Her head slightly shook, not even registering what she was saying at this point. Especially not when Momo's eyes had been glued to hers. Sana starts to think this was a terrible idea.
“Sana, I'm just asking.” Momo says reassuringly, “Whatever you do, it's okay.” Sana sighs.
“About last time,” Momo raises her brows, “Thank you.” Sana's tone started to settle into a more gentle one, feeling small as feelings of shame and guilt started gnawing at her. Momo was too kind for her own good.
“It’s no problem.” Momo smiles gently. Sana registers the glint in her eyes that cut through the dark, clawing marks at her chest, and it felt like the dew in her own eyes would once again burst from the heat building up on her face. Sana didn't want to cry anymore, she was not that weak. She didn't want to care anymore. It's like admitting that her parents still had control over her life even after they've been long gone. Yet somehow, as much as Sana tries to push it away, the feelings come back to her in one, heavy baggage.
And it was only then that she knew that tears had been rolling down her face like a waterfall. She only realized when Momo pulled her so gentle and slow into her arms, and Sana sank to her shoulder, feeling so frail and small under Momo's caresses on her back. Sana stopped hiding her sobs.
“Without you there, I… I don't know what would've happened.” Sana says in between her cries. Momo held her back as if she was gonna slip away, one hand brushing stray hairs away from her face.
“You're strong, Sana. You can face anything.” Momo’s hands made their way to her cheeks, cupping it to face her.
“Don’t look at me like that, like I’m some saint.” Sana's voice cracked, her sobs spilling out uncontrollably as she tried pushing Momo away. But Momo was faster, wrapping her arms around Sana's waist again, pulling her into a firm yet gentle embrace.
“It doesn’t matter, Sana,” Momo whispered into her ear soothingly, “I believe you are.”
The words became further undoing, and her sobs grew louder. She clung to Momo like a lifeline, burying her face in the crook of her neck.
“I should’ve held you like this."
Ever since Momo said it last week, Sana didn't leave it a day unthought of. She tried, thinking how stupid it is to fall over words so easy to say. Words so easy to trivially spew and empty out all meaning. Words so easy to hear it felt like a sin. But her mind was relentless, repeating it to herself like a chant with Momo's sweet, raspy voice. The slight scratch of her words grazing every surface of Sana until she couldn't sleep. And at that moment, she felt a tug in her veins that urged her to just pull her in. An urge to lose all her mind and throw all shit to hell, and leave everything else to the hands of the holy. She felt all of it, tonight, at this moment, as Momo's eyes scanned her with such intent, shifting ever so slightly to her lips, and back at her eyes. Sana mirrors the motion, not letting a millisecond of her gaze away from the soft contours of Momo's face. Sana's fingers brushed Momo's neck, grazing the delicate skin with trembling touches. Momo didn’t move, didn’t breathe, her eyes locked on Sana as if daring her, taunting her with the most innocent-looking gaze. Sana felt like she was free-falling, her mind a haze, every rational thought obliterated by the sheer gravity of Momo's presence. Sana was dying to just pull her in, and she was about to,
All sense be forgotten.
But a sudden loud ring shattered the moment.
Momo coughs, pushing herself away gently, but too gentle that there was a certain ache to it. Sana breathes as if she'd run a marathon, feeling the heat of her face with her palms as Momo cruises through the living room to answer her phone. The drumming pulses of Sana's chest muted all the noise, not letting her make out anything from Momo's words over the damn phone. It's like pre-concert nerves all over again.
That is, until she hears another faint cough—one from the girl approaching her in careful steps, looking nowhere but on the ground.
“Uh, my brother's dropping by to get something.” Momo says, “He's already downstairs, actually.”
Sana's eyes widened—“Where do I hide?” she asked, her voice pitching higher with panic. She glanced around the room, scanning for a spot to crouch or fold herself into, completely ignoring how absurd it was.
But a chuckle caught her attention.
“Sana, calm down,” Momo says amidst of it, a small smile tugging at her lips, “We’re not... thirteen or anything.”
Before Sana could retort, the buzz of the doorbell echoed through the apartment. Momo opened the door, and in burst a whirlwind of energy—a blonde man in a suit.
“You know, I’ve been downstairs for ages, but my phone died, and I had to borrow the guard’s battery bank. He was nice and all, but it was so weird sitting next to him in silence and—”
Momo's brother froze mid-sentence, his gaze locking onto Sana. His mouth hung open as if he’d just seen a ghost. Sana, feeling suddenly self-conscious, offered an awkward bow. Did she wear something stupid or anything?
“Uh, Soonyoung, this is Sana—”
“Are you fucking kidding me, dude?!” Soonyoung’s voice was a harsh whisper, his tone incredulous. Momo blinked in confusion as Soonyoung began tiptoeing closer to Sana, his movements erratic and theatrical.
Sana instinctively stepped back, unsure what to make of it.
“You- You’re Sana Minatozaki! From Canary Yellow! Oh my god!” Soonyoung clutched his chest as if he were about to faint, “I love you so much! Look, I even have you as my wallpaper!” He fumbled to pull out his phone, which he quickly shoved in Sana's direction, revealing one of her posted photos, “I even fought with my wife over this—well, I mean, I told her it's Sana! If I, you know, knew you first, we're the same age anyway so we might just be perfect for—"
"Soonyoung!" Momo steps in between them. “Stop being weird!" She whisper-shouts, causing Sana to switch gazes between the siblings.
“No, no, no! This is a once-in-a-lifetime moment!” Soonyoung said, his tone dramatic as he turns back to Sana, “Can I maybe get an autograph? Please? I’ll name my next kid after you! If my wife lets me!”
"Soonyoung stop!" Momo groans, and it caused Sana to stifle a laugh, holding up her hands to the girl, caressing her shoulders,
“It’s… fine,” she says, though a careful and dragging tone.
Soonyoung suddenly gasped, his eyes darting between Momo and Sana, and the hand on Momo's shoulder.
“Wait a minute...” His expression shifted into something conspiratorial, “Why is she-? Oh my god!” He pointed an accusatory finger at Momo, his voice rising. “You... You’re- No fucking way! I can't believe this... of all people, a loser like my sister, snagged you- Sana Minatozaki? This must be a dream." Soonyoung started slapping his face.
“That’s not—”
“I-" Soonyoung sighs dramatically, "I think that explains the messy clothes and all."
"No!" Sana was unable to keep her small giggles this time, it helped let out at least some of the crazy feelings she had earlier. Soonyoung was nudging his brows up and down, and Momo looked so offended.
"Man, for someone who hasn't dated anyone ever, I thought my sister here would die a loser." Yeah, right. Haven't dated anyone ever? Sana believes otherwise, though. She glanced at Momo, and the woman looked so flush.
"But Jeonghan and I thought you were seeing your assistant." The words caused something to stir in Sana's stomach. A certain heat that she was unable to name. But it was like a shot of vodka straight to her gut.
“No! What the hell!" Momo snapped, giving him a bag that was probably what he was here for, then proceeds pushing him toward the door.
"Woah, woah, woah, I haven't gotten my autograph yet.”
“Ugh! Just go!”
“Well, I'm certain we will meet again, Miss Sana?” Soonyoung was all smiles, a bright expression that hid his eyes into a line. Sana just settles into a small one, bowing slightly, and awkwardly, “I didn't expect you to be my sister-in-law but—"
“Shut up! She’s not your sister-in-law!” Momo pushed him farther away, reaching the door which she opened. Soonyoung waved excitedly to Sana.
“I'll always be your fan—” His words were cut by the door shutting past him, and Momo letting out a huge sigh of relief. She holds her forehead like an old principal, and Sana was just grateful she was able to push him out like that. Not that she didn't want Momo's brother around or anything, but he did have a somewhat exhausting atmosphere.
“I forget you're a superstar.” Momo kept sighing while walking back to the kitchen, fetching herself a water pitcher from the fridge that she had to click like a damn phone to open. “Sorry… for that.” Momo places a glass swiftly in front of Sana at the counter, pouring from the pitcher with her sleeves rolled, forearm flexed from the heavy-looking glass. The gesture had such an undoing effect that water felt perfect to wash out the growing heat in her stomach and her drying up throat.
“It's… okay.” Sana had no idea why she was dragging her words. But just as she was about to space out into some uninvited thoughts once again, she trails back to the reason she had to see Momo. The reason she agreed to Jeongyeon and Chaeyoung’s absurd plan that somehow worked.
“Momo?” The girl hummed in response, now beginning to take out her groceries. Her movements were the pinnacle of domestic—like a single, independent woman in her mid-twenties, buying groceries after work and doing everything alone. No matter how Sana had been on her own her whole adult life, Momo somehow seemed to be better at it. Like everything is so easy for her, and that she enjoyed every bit of it—something Sana never felt no matter how long she's been in the zone of it.
“What did they say to you?” Sana's tone was careful, like half wanting-to-know and half hesitant. Sana was really scared. The fact of just talking about it brought her nerves to a riot. But because Momo bravely handled it for her, Sana only felt right to face it instead of running away like she always did, as the bare gratitude she can offer.
For everything Momo has done for her.
“If you're ready, you can talk to them, Sana.” Momo stops hauling away the groceries, and focuses her attention on Sana, who was small at the corner of the kitchen. Momo walked closer to her, but still far from arm's reach, like a space had to be there for some reason.
“Is that what they said?” Momo doesn't answer right away, and Sana unconsciously sighs—but not a frustrated nor a disappointed one, “Can you tell me what they really said?”
“They said they didn't know how else to reach you. They thought it was the best way to get your attention. After the news of the crash broke out and all.” Momo finally says.
“So they reached me just because of the crash? Really just an anti-guilt move?” Sana scoffs. They didn't need to do any stunt to save themselves, besides, it's only her and the band who knows about what they did, never a word to the public. They weren't part of her life anymore.
“I don't know their intentions,” Momo says, “But they said they wanted to know you're okay. And that they really want to talk to you.”
“Talk about what? It's no use.”
“I also don't think you need to reconnect.” Sana meets her gaze—gentle and reassuring, “And that it's your own choice now, since they didn't give you a choice when they sent you out. Do whatever sets you free.”
“Whatever sets me free?” Sana, however, always thought she was free from it—from all the pain of the past, and accepting her parents were out of her life for good. But with their return and with Momo's words, Sana starts to rethink the lengths of it. Was she really free all this time?
“If talking to them is just gonna pressure you more, then it's best to keep staying away.”
“But what if they just keep looking for me? Doing shit like cutting through a public crowd like last time?”
“I'll do my best for it not to happen.”
“You?”
Momo nods.
Sana was beyond confused. What did she even mean by that? Her thoughts were blank, the look of Momo's slightly furrowed brows and intent stare was not making any sense right now. Sana's mouth was unconsciously parted open, an image of the unformed questions in her head.
And just like that, the air swells into an all new rhythm, carrying Sana's breaths. She had a hunch of what was coming—another whirlwind in her head that messed with her insides. She knew it as Momo started dragging her feet nearer and nearer and nearer, a piece of skin grazing Sana's fingers on top of the counter ever so slightly. There was a faint brush of Momo’s skin against her fingers, a sheet of warmth above her hand, just the lightest touch, but it was enough to send a rush of heat through Sana’s body.
“But I-” But it was too much, too soon. Her pulse quickened, and she instinctively pulled her hand back, “I think I want to talk to them.”
Too much, too soon. The thought spun in her head, and she couldn’t stop her reaction. Momo’s lips parted, her eyes flicking between Sana’s hand and her face, the tension so palpable that it felt like they were both teetering on the edge of something dangerous. But then, Momo’s shoulders sagged—just a little, but enough for Sana to notice. It was like a switch had been flipped, and suddenly, the warmth that had been there was gone.
“Oh,” Momo’s voice was flat now, distant. “Are you sure about it?”
Sana’s chest tightened. What did she just do? She didn't mean to pull away—she didn't want to. It sent a pang in her chest, a voice calling her stupid in every language. She didn't know what came to her, but the touch had such a significant physical effect that her first instinct was to retract. But it was too late to think about what she's done, because she could sense Momo felt off—with the way her lips pursed and body moved inches away. Sana did everything in her to not walk closer, it was a pit she was not supposed to jump into.
A pit she dug herself.
“You don't have to if you're only feeling pressured.” Momo's voice felt too casual, too cold, albeit calm, it felt like every syllable poked a dagger into Sana's body.
“Yes.” Sana swallows the lump in her throat, doing her best to remain composed, “I want to get it over with.”
“Well, if you’re decided, I’ll get you to meet with them. Just tell me when.” Momo replied, her tone still too calm, too indifferent.
“You have their contact?” Sana’s voice dropped, a hint of sadness creeping in.
Momo’s response was immediate, almost robotic, “I didn’t intend to. They asked for mine.”
“Why did you give it?”
“Turning them down would be rude.”
“You're too nice.” Sana says, and only the rustling sounds of the grocery bags followed after. She's back to shelving groceries, and Sana just wishes Momo doesn't feel the same thickness in the air. Sana hopes it was just her feeling a weight on her shoulders, and Momo was just being casual. But the silence was too loud—an obvious answer to all her questions, thinking otherwise would just be Sana lying to herself.
And so, Sana didn't try. She didn't move from her place and just awkwardly watched Momo from the corner, shifting her eyes from time to time—by now she had memorized a few details of her space. Sana could always tell that Momo was a clean freak. A college kid back then who had time to tidy things up to the smallest speck of dust? Only Momo. And now, the meticulous arrangement of things wasn't any different—save for the warm light lamps she had on many corners of the living room, that looked like little sunset mushrooms, and the torus-knot-shaped throw pillows in pink, that heavily contrasted the neutral grey tones of the walls and furniture, and not to mention the space was twice as large as her old one.
Sana also went for a more minimalistic living space after getting more comfortable and being able to rent a good apartment. But even if it had the similar neutral colors such as here, Sana is fascinated how Momo manages to make it look home—with the smallest details that screamed Momo, unlike Sana, who always felt like her own place was to merely sleep and rest.
Sana had her hands tied to her lap on the couch next to Momo. She was hugging the torus knot throw pillow as they watched the queer version of The Ultimatum. Aside from the exchanged ‘what the hell’s and reactions of ridiculousness, there wasn't really any conversation. The air still ran thick, keeping Sana wide-eyed awake. They were three episodes in, when she hears Momo yawn.
“You can sleep if you want.” Sana assures her. Momo still hasn't changed from her clothes, and Sana just couldn't stop glancing at her. Especially how she propped her head up on the sofa's backrest so easily—so carefree.
Sana still hasn't forgotten about almost wanting to pull her in.
So stupid.
“I'm good.” Momo answers plainly.
“Did you come from work?” You look tired, she wanted to say.
“Mhm. Went to another production set outside the city. Things were a mess, but we couldn't let the clients know.” Sana didn't answer, and instead kept her gaze at Momo, wanting to get more from her. The woman thankfully picks it up, “There was a supplier error, and it would take six hours to fix it, but the set needed to be finished in two.”
“Is it always like that? Like, that stressful?”
“Mostly.” Momo answers. “We can't have clients stressed, it's our obligation to take it all. Plus, the higher ups need things to be perfect. So I can't mess it up.”
“Aren't you the higher ups?”
“No.” Momo shakes her head, “My brothers are. My mom too. My dad's retired but he still goes up in our business. And some family friends in the line.” It's honestly one of the first times Sana gets to hear about Momo's family, and not to mention the whole fiasco from earlier with her brother.
“Under a lot of pressure, huh?”
“Nope. I'm a corporate god.” Sana chuckles at how stoically Momo said it.
“What about us? Are we stressing you out?”
“Of course.” Sana raises a brow and a hostile look, which finally gets Momo to crack a smile—a smug one, “Jihyo will kill me if we mess up, won't she?”
“Yep.” Sana says it so obviously, “She’s the ultimate perfectionist.”
“More than the band.”
“More than the band.” Sana repeats it as an agreement, and it makes both of them chuckle. It was familiar. It was like the old days, those trivial talks that didn’t matter but somehow meant everything. Sana felt her shoulders relax, just a little, as she settled back into the couch, but it didn’t last long.
Momo yawned again, and Sana noticed how tired she really was. She looks like she’s barely holding it together.
“You can head to your room and sleep. I'll sleep here on the couch.” Sana says, and Momo glanced at her, her expression unreadable.
“No, it’s fine. You sleep in my room. I'll stay here.”
“I mean, you got a pretty big couch here, I'm good with—”
“No, Sana.” Sana gulped, her heart racing from the tone of Momo's voice. She wanted to protest, to offer the couch again, but she could tell from the weariness in Momo’s voice that she shouldn't insist. Not this time.
“Are you sure?” Sana asked, her voice tentative.
Momo’s answer was just a curt hum, and for the first time, there was a chill in her tone. Sana could feel it, sharp as ice. Sana only managed to nod slowly. She stood, gathering her things, but before she left the living room, she stole one last look at Momo—who was already laying down, staring at the ceiling, her body turning away slightly as she turned off the TV. The space between them definitely took a shift—and it was not a good one.
As Sana entered the bedroom, she hesitated by the door, the weight of the moment pressing down on her as she fully entered and sat on the edge of the bed. What the hell just happened?
Sana couldn't sleep, although she tried. She tried texting Jeongyeon and Chaeyoung, but the two were probably enjoying the last of the vodka. Sana found a blanket, lost in a feeling she couldn't shake, and unconsciously, the fabric hits her senses—a gentle smell of fresh flowers, maybe from the softener, because it smelled fresh out of the laundry. Sana instinctively pulled the blanket closer to her nose, catching the stronger hints of sweetness and wet leaves—like a garden under the sun when the air is so still you can almost hear it breathe. Sana wishes she knew what brand detergent Momo uses, it wasn't common, even during the time she worked at a laundromat. Like something only Momo's clothes would smell. Sana could feel the soft blanket on her skin, vigorously rubbing it all over her face at this point, unminding of everything else and just savoring every bit of its smell until it runs out. Sana sighs to herself, closing her eyes in pure bliss as the sweet notes of it lingered in her mind, wanting to carve Momo's scent inside her for weeks to remember. Sana knew she's fucked, but the soft sheets drowned her in all senseless thoughts.
Sana licks her lips, even biting her lower part as she crawls one hand up to her neck, rubbing her nails and putting pressure on the sides of it, choking her a bit, as she continues smelling Momo's blanket. Her hands shook with every caress and sniff, rolling her eyes back, and letting out a low, indisputable moan out of her throat. The sound shocked even herself, as a heat formed in her cheeks. Sana would be lying if she said it was the alcohol—because that was gone hours ago. But she needed an excuse the moment she started puckering her lips, placing light, open-mouthed kisses on the damn blanket, wetting it with small dots of saliva, her throat drying as she formed an image of Momo touching he—
But Sana almost shrieks when a knock on the door could be heard. She covers her mouth, and pulls the blanket over her face, shutting her eyes tight as if it was helping to kill the heat and loud pulses in her chest.
“Sana?” She hears Momo calling from the other side of the door, but Sana doesn't answer. A single conversation with Momo will give out her flushed face, and she didn't want to risk getting caught doing… scandalous… acts.
“Sana? Are you awake?” No. I'm totally asleep. She was regulating her breathing now, hoping she just sinks into the bed and flies away like dust.
She hears the door opening, and Sana puts on her best act. She hears light footsteps nearing her, but she had a silent breath of relief after hearing a drawer open.
Sana couldn't help the curiosity, so, she lifts the blanket ever so slightly where she's sure that Momo couldn't see it. She takes a peek, but the sight had her eyes wide open,
Momo's back—unwrapped by the towel.
Now she's feeling like a fucking pervert, especially how she didn't take her eyes off the girl. She kept it high up, though—right on Momo's shoulders, hidden by her wet hair. She was just fresh from a shower. Momo's back was definitely even more chiseled than her arms, contours on the right spots, flexing with her every move, looking smooth and soft that Sana wanted to check it herself. Every curse Sana knew started playing in her head, urging her to repent for every thought running in her mind right now.
Every thought of Momo—going above her in the back of her Subaru, kissing her at a random parking lot near the old bar, touching Sana's skin with her warm hands, her lips and tongue tasting like strawberry syrup, and how Momo was an amazing fucking kisser from the heavens—fuck, Sana, stop.
But no—it didn't stop. Not even when Momo succeeded in wearing all her clothes, wrapping her head in a towel, even turning back quickly into Sana's direction—which was the only thing that caused her to break the stare she had on the girl ever since she entered the room—the room that felt like a sauna by now.
But thankfully, Momo doesn't notice, and she proceeds to walk out, shutting the door softly. But even if Momo was long gone, her presence followed Sana into the night, cradling the flames it created until it never died—removing sleep overall.
She is definitely fucked.
Notes:
Okay, this chapter is... A LOT.
A lot of emotions which I only realized now that I'm polishing it. I also had an excuse to put a whole verse here. This song is perfect for Momo's POV, but apparently Sana is going headfirst into shallow pools herself, LOL.
Anyway, thank you for the continued support! To all the kudos, comments, and silent reads, I appreciate you all very much. :)
Happy reading! Another chapter to be posted later!
Chapter 18: XVIII. Hate To See Your Heart Break
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
For all the air that's in your lungs,
For all the joy that is to come,
For all the things that you're alive to feel,
Just let the pain remind you hearts can heal.
Momo hadn’t slept much. The sofa was soft—her own choice, picked out for moments like this when she needed to crash somewhere with her outside clothes. But comfort wasn’t the problem. It wasn’t the reason her chest felt heavy or why her mind had refused to shut off.
Anger? Embarrassment? Hurt? The emotions swirled together until she couldn’t tell one from the other. But they all bordered on confusion. It wasn’t just her, right? It couldn’t be just her who felt that pull last night, that gravity between them. So why did it feel like she was the only one left stranded in its wake?
She’d tried to redirect the blame—Soonyoung. God, if his stupid marriage papers hadn’t gotten mixed up with her work files, he wouldn’t have shown up uninvited. It wasn’t her job to clean up his messes, and yet, here she was. But that wasn’t the real problem, was it?
No. Because it was Sana’s actions—so small, so seemingly insignificant, that played with her cuts more than Momo wanted to admit. Momo had taken a terrifying step toward something that had been sitting, unspoken, between them ever since she saw Sana again. Momo knows it. And she thought it was the same spark igniting again after so many years. But when Momo was ready to throw all her worries out the window, Sana just had to flinch. Pulled away like Momo’s touch was something to fear.
The memory of it made Momo’s stomach twist. She could still feel the ghost of Sana’s warmth, just for a second, before it was gone. The worst part wasn’t the withdrawal itself—it was the flicker of something in Sana’s eyes before it happened. Like she wanted her but suddenly she didn't? And now, Momo was left grappling with what that meant. Was she wrong to think they were on the same page? Had she read it all wrong?
Though she once did read it all wrong, so what makes it more different now?
It's not like Sana wants her any more than that.
It wasn’t just hurt she felt—it was frustration, a bitter edge to her sadness. She wanted to scream into a pillow, wanted to storm down to the gym downstairs and burn away the ache in her chest. But Momo did neither. Instead, she laid on the couch the whole night, staring at the ceiling, counting stupid imaginary sheep until she picked up her phone and finished an online French course she’d been meaning to complete. It was mindless enough to pass the time but not enough to quiet the heavy thoughts.
If it weren't for Sana just showing up at her door last night, the timing perfect after her trip to the grocery, Momo would've just had another quiet night to herself. She would've cooked her meal for the next day, watched a show she barely cared about, gone to bed, and appear at work the morning after. It was her routine. It might be boring—as Mina always comments—but it's better than lying awake, replaying the moment over and over again in her head, wondering why Sana had pulled away and why it felt like Momo had been the one left reaching for something that didn't even exist. Like she's delusional of some sorts.
She wanted to be angry, to shove the hurt away and replace it with something easier, something that didn’t make her chest ache every time she thought about the look on Sana’s face. But the truth was, no matter how hard Momo tried, the anger couldn’t erase the hurt. And the hurt couldn’t erase the memory of Sana’s touch—so brief, so fleeting, but enough to undo her entirely.
And as if it couldn't get any worse, now Momo had to get up because it was eight in the morning, and Mina will be picking her up at nine. Thankfully though, Mina's morning nagging will end today, because Momo will finally get to pick up her car from the mechanic later at night. But at the moment, she had to get ready, and she didn't know what to do with Sana—who’s still probably sleeping in her room.
But her phone buzzes at the coffee table. Who would be calling this early in the morning?
Mina?
“What?” Momo speaks.
“I'm near your apartment now.”
“What?! It's too early.”
“I have something to tell you.”
“Is it gonna waste my time- Ugh!” And just as Momo thought, Mina ends the call. It was one of her habbits, saying something like that, and ending the note on a cliffhanger. Then the next day she continues it and it's just something so useless like she had her nails done and asked if it looked good on her.
So Momo storms to the bathroom, doing her routine with grumpy speed. That woman is such a headache, but she didn't want to say anything since it would cost her the commute—but since now is her last day with her, she could just curse her, right?
Before she was even finished with her routine, the doorbell rings. And now, she had to answer it with lumps of sunscreen on her face.
“Why are you here already?” She annoyingly asks Mina the moment she opens the door, but the woman just enters without a word, which had Momo rolling her eyes. She definitely saw Mina skipping, though, leaving her head to shake in disbelief.
“Do you notice anything new?” Mina was all giggling as she was swaying her hair in all directions after sitting on a dining chair. Momo raises an eyebrow, questioning the heightened mood all of a sudden, “What? Nothing? Just standing there looking dumb?”
“Ugh, just tell me, Mina.” And so, the girl cranes her neck to the side, showing a good stretch of the skin that— oh god—it was the cue for Momo's eyes to widen in horror, and for her to make barfing sounds in utter disgust.
"This is a knowledge against my will! It's so gross!" Momo immediately looks away, quickly signalling Mina to cover her neck—and the fresh, purplish-red marks on it.
"Just because you're single doesn't mean I can't be happy. Why don't you find someone to hookup with too?"
"Stop! Ew!" And Momo definitely didn't need to know that Mina did things like that, “You’re terrorizing me!”
"What are you five?" Mina rolled her eyes, "Or maybe you can't get in Sana's pants that's why you're so grumpy."
"Be fucking quiet!” Momo whisper-shouts, darting her eyes between the girl and to the door of her room.
"What? Scared of neighbors calling you a celebrity pervert? I'm sure there are other girls named Sana in the world.”
“Shhh!” Momo stomps her feet toward the girl, and proceeds to cover her mouth. Mina was groaning, it was a cat fight of Mina removing Momo's hand on hers, and Momo keeping it in place. The battle was tight, and Momo was not one to lose. Things never really got this much physical between them, but it was just waiting to happen anyway. So now, they were beating each other up like third graders in a playground—Mina was standing and eventually got cornered on the counter, but she was kicking Momo so hard on the shin that the woman started shrieking.
“Fuck!”
“Yeah! That's right! Get it on!” Mina managed to remove Momo's hand on her mouth, and began spitting out words to challenge her. It was getting more silly by the second, but the two girls didn't give a damn—
Not until Mina's eyes widened.
Towards the door.
Momo immediately shots a glance back, and sees Sana staring at them in an indistinguishable manner. She pushes herself away from Mina, shaking off the creases of her clothes, and scratching her throat with a few small coughs.
“Hi, Sana!” Mina's voice awkwardly cracks.
“Hey, Ms. Myoui.” But Sana, on the other hand, had her voice in a low and downcast tone. Momo expected her to say something more to challenge or tease her, yet there was nothing.
“Sorry to interrupt, was just gonna tell Momo that Jeongyeon's downstairs to pick me up. She suddenly called.”
“Oh,” Momo's lips quiver, not knowing what to properly say, “You're leaving now?”
“Yeah. I'm off.” Sana smiles, but it was definitely not a genuine one. Momo could easily tell by the way her eyes just looked in one direction, as if she was staring at a hole that made her eyes a bit darker than usual, losing all edginess to it.
“I'll walk you downstairs.”
“No, it's okay.” Sana says, “Thank you for having me, Momo. I'll tell you when to schedule the meet up with them. I'll ask your number from Jihyo.”
“Okay.” It came out as a whisper, like a wisp of air from her slipping away once again. But Momo didn't want to say anything else, as her mind traces back to how Sana withdrawn her hand last night, and the confusing way her eyes were drawn to her, as if she was yearning for a touch she didn't even want.
And Momo didn't want that.
She didn't want another half-assed intention from Sana.
And so, Sana leaves—immediately, having just her and Mina in the apartment now. The latter coughs, the heavy air turning into a call-out.
“What was that about?” Mina asks.
“Nothing.”
“Why was she here?” Momo sighs, feeling her knees weak as she plops herself on the couch.
“I don't know. She was outside the building, after I went to get groceries. I invited her in.”
“Oh,” Mina nods—too suspiciously, but Momo didn't have the energy to question her and have another possible cat fight, “What happened? It seemed awkward.”
“Because you decide to show yourself up here.”
“I know that's not the reason.” Mina's voice was more toned down now. She does it whenever the conversations get more serious.
“Can we change the topic?” Momo says instead, heading to the kitchen to get her water bottle. Breakfast didn't sound so good right now, and maybe she'll just sneak in a meal while working.
“Wanna know who I fucked?”
“No, not that-”
“Jeongyeon and I, we-”
“Jeongyeon?!”
Momo’s office was quiet today, the type of silence that felt heavy in the early afternoon. The hum of the air conditioner competed only with the soft clicks of keyboards and the occasional rustle of papers. Her desk was immaculate, save for a few documents waiting for her attention. Even if she loathed monotony, today, she embraced it.
There were no site visits to attend, no client meetings to endure—just her, the fluorescent lights, and the dense legal jargon of a client contract. She had read enough to know the formula for these, ever since she was in college studying the legal loops of it. The same reworded grievances, the same overblown demands. She had marked the document for revisions twice already, her pen ran over a certain clause when her mind drifted.
Sana.
Her name clawed its way into Momo’s focus like a thief in the night. Momo tried grounding herself by staring harder at the contract in front of her. She reread the section about third-party liabilities, but the words blurred. She’d spent years compartmentalizing—years learning how to push personal distractions aside, but the events of last night replayed like a broken record.
Every brush of her hand, every shift in her tone, every piece of her that felt out of reach. Momo hated how her chest clenched just thinking about it.
By the time the clock struck five, Momo had barely moved past the first ten pages of her revisions. She packed her bag with more force than necessary, silently cursing herself for letting her mind spiral. She told herself it was just one bad day.
But no, she knew better. Telling herself that countless times in the past.
The mechanic handed Momo her keys with a sheepish smile.
"Everything’s running smooth now, but I had to do some additional work with the frames, it's the reason for the delay. But I assure she's back on the road now.”
Momo wasn’t really listening. She’d been staring at the way the sun fell onto the shop’s floor. Her mind kept circling back to Sana. She didn’t want to think about it, but the more she tried to push it away, the stronger the pull became.
Her phone buzzed in the passenger seat while she was driving her newly fixed car back home. It was from an unknown number. Momo’s stomach clenched when she recognized the name at the top of the message.
“Hi, Momo. It’s Sana. I got your number from Jihyo. Just wanted to say I'm free on the weekend.”
Momo read the text again. Free on the weekend? Is she asking for a date? Her heart started to speed up. Momo knew she wasn't supposed to text and drive, but she kept reading it over and over. She had expected Sana to text soon, but this was… a bit… confusing. The last few hours had been taxing enough, and Sana wasn’t making it easier.
But there it was. Another text. From Sana.
“I'll send you the address of where I can meet my parents. If it's not a lot of trouble, Momo? Thanks.”
Right, her parents. Momo wanted to hit her head on the steering wheel.
“Okay, I'll let them know, and text you when they get back to me.” Momo typed while on a stoplight.
Sana responded almost immediately.
“Thanks for doing this, by the way. I know it’s a lot to ask.”
Momo read the message, her pulse quickening against her will. She didn’t want to overanalyze a simple thank you, but she couldn’t help herself. Sana had given her that opening again.
“It's nothing, I'm happy to help.” Momo only managed to reply when she entered the apartment gates. Then, the phone buzzed again. Almost under just a minute.
“Happy? Thought you'd drive yourself to a wall by now.”
Momo’s heart skipped a beat. Her breath caught in her throat. That tone—it wasn’t just the words, but the implication behind them. The teasing. It was like Sana had pushed her into a corner with a smile she couldn’t see. And Momo, once again, felt the pull. She hated how much she wanted to respond differently. Momo wanted to leave it there.
“It’s still up for debate.”
But she couldn't.
“You're funny.”
Yet, she had to.
“Good night, Sana.”
“Good night, Momo.”
Momo’s pulse steadied. The conversation was done. And yet… why did she feel unsettled?
She let her phone drop to the passenger seat. She realizes she's been parked on her spot for a while now. Her hands shook slightly as she turned her car off. Sana had done it again. She’d twisted something inside Momo that was already fragile.
Momo didn’t know how to fix this. And she didn’t know if she even should.
Sana stood outside the cafe.
She stared through the window, catching a glimpse of her parents. They looked so normal—so composed. Her mother was smiling faintly at something her father probably said, and her father’s shoulders were relaxed as he sat back at the chair. They were expecting her. This wasn’t just a casual meet-up. It was a deliberate attempt at reconciliation, something Sana had convinced herself she didn’t need.
But as she stared at them, her mind drifted—back to the apartment,
Back to the uninvited thoughts of Momo.
It was like her brain couldn’t shut off, and Momo was there, in the background. Always in the background. Sana closed her eyes briefly, trying to suppress the image of Momo—her bare back, the way the skin had been so smooth, her toned muscles that felt firm on the hand, the way her eyes locked with hers in a heated staredown, the smell of her blanket, the heat coiling in her core as she remembered the details of Momo's face.
Sana’s fingers brushed against her own palm, as if still remembering the warmth of Momo’s skin, the heat she pulled away from.
“What the hell am I doing?” Sana whispers, shaking out of her reverie. She didn’t want to deal with this—she never did, especially since she met Momo again. She was supposed to go into this meeting with her parents as the same strong, indomitable person she had always been. But instead, she felt like she was standing in a fog, half of her tethered to the past with her parents, and the other half tangled in something she didn’t know how to handle.
But she had to get it over with. With the trouble this has probably caused Momo for a whole week, it was the least she could do.
But it wasn't just for Momo, maybe it was for her too.
The door of the cafe chimed as Sana stepped in, and she was greeted immediately by her mother’s soft smile. Her feet were dragging slowly, but Sana’s heart felt like it was out of her control, speeding up with every breath.
“Sana, it’s so good to see you.” Her mother says, her voice thick with emotion but still holding a sort of practiced calmness now.
Her father, a man who rarely expressed emotion, gave her a warm but restrained hug. Sana didn't move from the contact, it shocked her.
“We hope you're doing okay.” The words felt heavy—too heavy. Sana stiffened in her father’s arms, wanting to pull away, to say something, but instead, she only nodded.
She sat across from them, her arms crossed defensively. They had no right to be so calm, so apologetic. Sana had built high fences between them for years, one that was supposed to last forever. But here they were, trying to break it down.
Her father cleared his throat, “We don’t expect anything back, Sana. We just wanted to sit down and apologize, and see how you’re doing. We’ve been thinking about you.”
Sana’s chest tightened at his words. She had expected something different. But this—this was… not what she thought of hearing. And it left her blank—it’s like she can't place her anger anywhere anymore. She expected them to be pushy, say something about reconciling and shit. But, no?
“I’m doing fine.” Sana replies, her tone controlled.
“We did hear from your bodyguard, Momo, she says you've been getting by well. And we're happy. And we're thankful you gave us the chance to meet you.” Sana's mother says, which makes her furrow her brows.
“Even after we crashed in at the crowd. Which was not a good choice.”
“It was a bad choice.” Sana says firmly.
“We’re really sorry for the way things happened. We should’ve thought well before doing it. And it's not gonna happen again.”
Sana swallowed hard, her mind a blur of thoughts. Was this apology real? Or were they trying to manipulate her into something she didn’t want?
“I don’t want too much of the sorries.” Sana says coldly, though she felt a knot form in her throat. Her parents only nodded—not smiling, but not in a bitter face either.
“We understand.” Sana's father says, “Can we spend time with you today? Here? Let's eat on my treat?”
Sana nods.
The dinner was quiet between them. Only the few people coming in and out that filled their space. This cafe had a good amount of privacy walls, so Sana was not skeptical about someone noticing her, or someone making a scene. It was a toned-down atmosphere, and her parents adapted the same.
All they talked about was some occasional questions about the food, and if Sana ate here often, or how was the band life going—nothing too personal, which Sana was starting to become thankful for. The space between them was shrinking just a little. Her parents didn’t push her, didn’t force her into anything. And for once, Sana didn’t feel the pressure to keep them at miles length.
For the first time, she felt... seen, for what she really wanted.
The dinner ended on a good, quiet note. Sana heading to a different direction, her parents doing the same, and the thought of the night gave her a sigh of relief. She expected something more intense, something too emotional that she had her defenses ready, but it was not as exhausting as it was in her head. And suddenly, a lot of things were lifted off of Sana's mind.
Well, most things.
Sana was now sat in a pub, all warm lights, chatters louder than the music, her shoulders slumped and mind still in a confused state. The dim, hazy light offered a brief comfort as she swirled her drink at the bar’s counter. Her head felt a little lighter than usual, thanks to the alcohol already sitting at the back of her throat. A strong drink would be a good fix, she thought. Or at least, make it easier to set her mind off of things.
She ordered another shot, two, three, four—needing something to push the fog away. The burn of whiskey down her throat was both comforting and cruel, too sharp to mask what was really eating at her.
Her mind, as expected, drifted back to the one thing she had tried to push away all day.
Momo.
She couldn’t stop thinking about her. Every little detail, like her tired smile that lingered in Sana’s chest long after their conversation on the couch, and that damn look in Momo's eyes—so soft, so vulnerable, and yet, full of something Sana couldn’t name. Anger?
But it wasn’t just that. Sana couldn’t get the memory of Momo’s bare back out of her head. The way her skin looked in the dark, the curve of her spine—so perfect, so… tempting. The way her muscles tensed as she moved, the soft sheen of wet droplets that shimmered against her smooth skin. Sana could still feel the heat from the memory, unwillingly so—but Sana submitted herself to it.
She could almost feel the warmth of it on her fingertips, like an itch she wanted to scratch. Her body had reacted in ways that she wasn’t used to—not with someone like Momo.
Or at least not anymore.
The desire hit her hard, her breath quickening at the thought of it. She wanted to run her hands across that perfect, delicate back, to feel the heat of her skin beneath her fingertips. She wanted to pull Momo closer, wanted to press her body against hers and feel the weight of her breath—soft, urgent…
But then reality hit—Sana was being foolish. She was here, alone, drinking shots at a damn bar. Was it smart? No. She couldn’t trust these feelings, not like this.
“Ah, shit!” Sana's unconsciously heightened voice earned her a few glares. The last thing she needed was the tabloids calling Canary Yellow's vocalist an alcoholic, so Sana tones it down—her actions, but unable to do so for her thoughts.
She slapped herself mentally, trying to shake herself out of the haze. This wasn’t her. Another shot slid down her throat. She felt the sting and the warmth, but it did nothing to clear the mess in her chest.
And then her phone buzzed in her pocket.
Momo?
Just like that, her pulse quickened, the rush of something swirling inside her again. She stared at the message—simple, too casual.
“How’d the meetup go?”
Sana’s heart thudded painfully in her chest. She had to reply, but her fingers hesitated. Her thumb hovered over the screen, trembling slightly as she considered what response to send, but the words wouldn’t come.
Another drink. Maybe that would help? Maybe it would dull everything again. Sana didn’t want to say something stupid, she didn't want to pick to put both her and Momo on any edge, she didn't want-
“Are you okay, Sana?”
That was fucking it.
Momo stepped out of her office building, her day better as she learned to appreciate having a car more, not having Mina to nag her while going home after a stressful day and forcing her for extra pay. She was busy with Jeongyeon anyway now, probably. Which made her shake her head entirely.
The moon was a marvel—a full one that shined in the middle of the skyscrapers. Her shoulders were sore from hours of sitting at a desk. Momo breathes, as she starts her car's engine, fixing herself and a few things aside.
Her phone buzzed, calling her attention. She pulled it out from her bag, her heart giving a little jolt when she saw Sana’s name—as if she didn't just text her a while ago. She stared at the screen for a moment, reading the “Sent a message” for what felt like minutes.
Should she reply now? Should she wait?
She sighed and tucked the phone back into her pocket, she knew it was a stupid idea asking Sana if she was okay. She probably replied something like “It was fine”, and now it's gnawing at her mind, eating her alive.
And so, Momo hits the gas, her goal centered at exiting the parking lot. She turns on the radio, wanting to just sing it all out to whatever new song would play—but she shuts it off, immediately.
Momo curses to herself the moment she hears that overly familiar singing voice. Too familiar that it became a subject of her dreams through the years.
Sana's voice.
And so, Momo ultimately decides to check her phone for her reply. And maybe say something back. It wouldn't be much of a harm, right?
Wrong.
Momo found herself at an address that Sana sent.
An address of a pub.
She parks somewhere neat, and starts walking inside with feet full of doubt. Did Sana just get hacked? And this was someone's way of assassinating her? Or was it sent wrongly? Not really meant for her? Momo didn't have much thought on what would happen, just her heartstrings tugging her in all directions, and chest thrumming like a whole marching band.
But after a short walk, Momo spots Sana, among the few people in the dimly lit space. There was a jazz-funk tune that rolled in the speakers, and Sana in a large leather jacket, flushing drinks down her throat. Momo wanted to laugh about how silly she looked—like an old man in debt as seen in movies, but the way her side profile protruded from the backdrop of beers and people, caught Momo up her drying throat. She gulps, walking closer.
“Sana?” She calls, and the woman's shoulders nudge a bit, before shifting her gaze to her.
And a smile on her lips.
“Hey.”
“Hey.” Momo made sure to have her tone careful—guarded.
“Sit with me?” And so she does. Momo was directing her gaze at the bar counter, and not towards Sana. Momo propped her head up, and the bartender pours her a glass—probably Sana gesturing him to do so.
“I can't drink much.” Momo mutters it quietly.
“One glass for me?”
Momo sighs.
“Why?”
“To keep you here.”
Momo bites the insides of her mouth. Why'd she have to do this? Why does Sana have to make her fall into her knees every time? Momo picks up the way she says it with low fervor—like when her teases go too far, it becomes whispers that only the two of them hear.
Momo just stared at her glass, feeling a heat build up her nose, feeling her own breaths above her lip. She wanted to storm out—but her feet were unmoving, torturing her in place, throwing her into waters she once drowned into. Momo shuts her eyes close, fighting the growing emotions that Sana's mere presence causes in her.
She hates it. Hates how the effect of Sana never left her no matter how much she tried. Momo tried believing she was over it—that her anger could wash away the memories of her—the citrus notes of her scent, her alluring eyes, her knuckles that had such a specific feel on her fingertips, and her voice that rang a tune every damn time.
Momo drinks from the glass.
She winces. If she was crazy, she'd think Sana was poisoning her with the choice of alcohol given to her. But Momo knew it was just her own weak tolerance getting knocked over. Nonetheless, it did help to lift up a bit of that heaviness. Maybe it was okay to stay a little, right? Just a little more.
“How did the meet-up go?” Momo asks, still staring at her glass rather than Sana. The latter was chugging her shots down, and Momo definitely had a bad feeling about it.
“It was okay.”
“Okay?”
“Yeah. They were… calm. Unexpectedly so.” Sana shakes her head towards the glass, as if she was talking to it instead of Momo. The latter did a short glance—an action she couldn't quit doing whenever she was with Sana.
“Did anything bad happen?” Momo's questions were simultaneous with Sana asking the bartender for more shots, and finishing the one in her hold right now. It was a bit concerning, seeing her consume a ton like that as if it's nothing but water. Something was definitely off.
“Nothing. Surprisingly. It's crazy.” Another chug.
“Sana, don't drink too much.” Momo didn't want to appear so perturbed, but the atmosphere was becoming suffocating. Sana, being stubborn as she is, didn't even bother to listen. Momo held onto her own glass so tight that it could break any minute.
“Might as well, it's a nice pub.”
“What's wrong?” Momo sighs, hanging her head low. She felt it too—whatever it was that's wrong.
“Why are you so concerned about me?” Sana finally speaks after so long of just the heavy breaths wrapping them. Her head turns towards Momo—she gives her a look, a look she didn't want to see for herself—but Momo feels the heat of it sizzling in her bones.
“I send you an address, nothing else.” Sana asks once again, “Yet you come here. Why is that?”
The words were enough to make Momo bite her tongue, so much into painfully numbing it—ruining her into shreds. A feeling so hellbent into tearing her apart, so easily done like she's made of paper. Momo's breathing was erratic, yet she kept it low and hidden beneath her, afraid of the possibilities making itself known.
Afraid to fall once again.
Sana huffs a chuckle beside her, now looking towards her glass instead of Momo. A cue from the girl not answering her. She knew. They both did.
“You do a lot for me, Momo.”
“You're making it hard for me to quit.” Momo finally answers—her words firm and quiet, as if she didn't want Sana to even hear it. But her breaths were deliberate, hoping to send a silent message—her pain and agony through the years.
“Why have to?” A bitter chuckle, and another chug of the glass, “Why quit?”
“You’re absurd.” The fumes were starting to appear in her ears, with Momo taking a shot of her drink as well, needing a release through the slightest torture of her throat, “This was about your parents.”
“It was never about them, Momo.” Sana's words had a different taste to it—something too bitter to ignore. The faintest hint of a sound that brings Momo weak to her knees,
Desperation.
“If I didn't pull away, would things be any different?” Sana was an obvious mess. Momo shuts her eyes tight, as if it was gonna do something to shut off Sana's words from getting to her.
“No.” She manages to make a sound. Tight lipped. Breathless.
“Of course.” Sana chuckles once again, “Aren't I pathetic? Leaving like that, wanting you again, leaving, wanting, craving, like a psycho. A bastard.”
“What's this supposed to be, Sana?”
“Whatever you want it to be.”
And there it was again. Sana's painstaking way of taunting her, making her into a dog on a leash begging for scrumptious treat—such desperation, pulling Momo into her magnetic field so hard and fast—pulling, and suddenly pushing. Like it's always been. Like it's always meant to be.
“This is wrong.” Momo knows it, Momo feels it in her mind. But the heart was too loud right now.
“But it's not going away.” Sana bores her gaze at her, once again, “So does righteousness even matter?”
“Sanity does.”
“Thrown mine out the window.” She whispers, lowly, and Momo's breaths ravaging every bit of her soul, her hands trembling in the hold of the glass, “You knew I was awake that night in your room, didn't you?”
“Hell of an accusation.” Momo chuckles—but there was no ounce of joy and lightness in it, every huff made her suffer. Sana had her whole body faced onto Momo now, challenging her with a look, until the screeches of metal on the floor were loud enough that it thrummed with the pulses of her chest—Sana came closer, and closer, and closer, dragging her chair until her knees hit Momo's thigh.
But what more worse to come? What more pits to fall into? More fires that burned her? When Sana's face was dangerously nearing, breath riskily hitting Momo's face that was now sweating. She could tell from the reeking alcohol scent from Sana that the girl was losing it. Badly. And Momo didn't want to lose it too—but she was on the edge, feeling the heat of the woman plaguing her mind everyday for years and years. Taking every last of her life and making it about her. Tattooing Sana's name with a hot needle into every fiber of her being, and Momo couldn't just take it.
“You're making it hard not to want you.” Sana whispers.
No, Momo, no.
“Sana-”
“You're making it hard for me not to love you.”
What?
A forehead suddenly on Momo's shoulder,
Small movements that made it known, quiet sounds beneath the music and chatters, muffled sobs that came crashing in waves—too much like a fighter conceding defeat.
“Take me home, Momo.”
Notes:
Phew...
I've been playing this song over and over while writing the last part. I feel how much SaMo is very vulnerable at this point. Even if their own hearts are breaking, they still unconsciously and naturally care about the other, too much that they don't want each to see each other break in pieces (they're doing it to each other though, sighs).
The next update will be on the weekend since I'll be busy until Friday. But I'll try to slip the chapter into AO3 so I can proofread and edit it bit by bit.
Again, thank you to everyone supporting my fic thus far! I hope you enjoy reading this one! :) See you on the next!
ps. The "source" Jeongyeon had from the last chapter—now we know.
Chapter 19: XIX. Proof
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
Baby, if I'm half the man I say I am,
If I'm a woman with no fear just like I claim I am,
Then I'll believe in what you say, there's nothing left for you to do,
The only proof that I need is you
Sana was sobbing on her shoulder for at least thirty minutes now.
Momo felt the side of her clothes being gripped into fists, and her shoulder falling numb by now from the weight. She honestly thinks it couldn't look more stupid than this—just sitting straight across a pub with a woman crying on her. But what would she even do? Was it right to console her? To keep her a bit closer where the fruity hints of her perfume would further assault her?
And it didn't help when only one thing kept replaying in her head like a broken record,
“You're making it hard for me not to love you.”
Momo doubts if she even heard it right at this point. Because the next thing she had to deal with was a sobbing mess, and a head going haywire from words it had least expected to take in.
“Momo, take me home, please.” Her words were mere mumbles between sobs. Momo calls over the bartender to pay, and after doing so, slowly prompts Sana up to stand—her head never leaving her shoulders as they stumbled out the pub. Sana's weight was twice as heavy—Momo had to guide her waist and drape her arm all over her shoulder because her movements were careless by now. Momo sighs as she sits her on the passenger seat. She must've really drank too much.
But what she didn't think through, was how Sana would be fully awake despite being paradoxically blackout drunk. And fully awake meant some stupid words were thrown out into the air.
“Momo, Momo, Momo, Momo.” Sana was giggling now, far from the crying persona she was just a few minutes ago. Her speech was slurred, body exaggeratingly moving forward every time Momo hit the brakes. She hopes there was a way to just magically transport them to her apartment.
“You’re so sweet and silly.” Momo knew her words shouldn't be taken seriously right now, but her whole body jolted from Sana suddenly reaching her thigh for a light squeeze. She suddenly felt feverish, gulping as Sana's hand kept innocently tapping her thigh, even slapping it a bit.
“Momo,” It's the first time Momo has seen Sana like… this. She was never the tooth-rotting type of an angel. Well, sure, she's been on her affectionate side once, but seeing her drunk like this was quite alarming, to say the least.
“You cook and clean a lot, in your free time probably. You are alone. Or do you go around with your stupid assistant from hell? I think she can smell you like you're fresh leaves and maybe, maybe I just want to kill her or something.” The last words came out as a giggly whisper, which kinda concerned Momo a bit, if it wasn't for the obvious way it was meant as a joke. It was definitely a joke, right?
The more minutes the drive took, the more and more it felt like the space was getting tighter and tighter. Momo had beads of sweat all over her forehead, and a dried-up throat that still horribly tasted like alcohol. It didn't help that Sana was now squeezing her right arm, and it made her sway on the road a bit.
“Sana- I- I don't think you should-”
“Your arms are so strong.” Sana mindlessly cuts her off, keeping up the touches that had her mind going haywire. She kept telling herself to just focus on the road, but her grip on the steering wheel was turning her knuckles white.
“You think that hot bassist still thinks about me?”
“What?” Momo furrows her brows. What hot bassist? Was Sana seeing someone?
“You know. The one who puts her fingers on my legs a lot,” Sana giggles, forwarding her head closer to Momo's ear while her hands are still squeezing the girl's arm. She whispers, “She’s a good kisser, you know.”
Momo swears she felt the hairs on her arm shoot up along with the growing heat on her face, and that's when she had enough. The feeling in her stomach was too much to handle that she had to stop the car on the roadside, “That's it. I'm putting you in the back seat.”
There was an evident pout in Sana's face as Momo exits her side of the car. She rushes over to Sana's side, guiding her body towards the back. It was all going smooth until Sana made a sudden barfing sound, which had Momo wide-eyed in panic.
“Sana, oh god, wait!”
“Momo, I think I'm gonna-” Another barfing sound, and Momo was scurrying over to find somewhere for Sana to throw up into. It wasn't her habit to keep a sick bag in the car, nor did she ever had anyone doing something of the same lengths. By the sounds Sana was making, Momo knew she was about to vomit in any second, and she had no choice, but to guide the girl towards the side of the curb.
Momo quickly wrapped her blazer around Sana's legs, and the moment happened so quickly that she almost failed to hold Sana's hair up. She still manages to gather the girl in one place, however, giving her back pats and some encouraging words. Sana was starting to sob again, and it had her panicking more, adding to the encouraging words to help her out of her sick.
“Momo! I think I puked out my liver!"
“Shh, it's okay, Sana. You didn't puke out your liver.” Sana was crying again, and Momo kept up the words until the woman was done. Momo wiped away the remaining sick in her mouth, and guided her into the back seat once again. This time, Momo tried laying her down, and to her surprise—it actually worked. Sana slept like a baby the moment her engine roared.
Momo successfully laid Sana down on her bed after a war with a thousand men down the halls of her apartment. Sana actually woke up again when they pulled over, and although she was easily quiet this time, Momo still struggled with carrying her full weight with some stumbles here and there. But alas, she could give herself a pat on the back now.
She managed to change Sana's clothes into something more comfortable after Momo cleaned her with a towel bath, thankfully not hearing any protest from the girl even if she was slightly awake. No grunts, no sounds, no giggles—just Sana obliging every time Momo told her to get up or sit or hold her arm up. It wasn't long when Momo was yawning. She calls it a night for herself, pushing back all remaining thoughts of what Sana had said earlier. Trying her best to stay sane as the tiredness of the day caught up to her.
Sana stirred, her head pounding like a drum. She groaned, pressing her palms against her temples as the morning light filtered through the curtains. Her mouth was dry, her throat parched. She hadn’t drunk like that in years, and her body was punishing her for it.
It took her a moment to register her surroundings. This wasn’t her apartment. The walls were different, the scent a different kind of familiar—clean, too clean for just her own bedsheets. They smelled like fresh wash with a hint of something earthy. And, reality hit her.
She's in Momo’s apartment.
Sana sat up slowly, the events of the previous night flooding back in disjointed fragments. She remembered the pub, the way she’d texted Momo the address like a stupidly desperate ex. She remembered Momo arriving, her face stoic but her eyes frantic as they avoided hers. Sana buried her face in her hands. She’s sure she had said too much last night—definitely more than what she should.
Although still a bit hungover, Sana swung her legs over the side of the bed. She expected the cold floor to ground her senses, but, wait, this isn't a… floor,
“Ah!” Sana shrieks when there was a movement on her feet with some audible grunts. She checks the floor, and there she was—Momo, stirring in her sleep as she laid on the ground. Sana was at a dilemma on whether to pull her up to the bed or just let her sleep soundly. Did she drink too much as well? Why was she on the floor?
Sana decides to pull her up, tapping her every so often to try and wake her. There were nothing but grunts, however, and Momo was heavy. But Sana didn't have the heart to watch her struggle over a cold and hard surface like that.
“Too early. Work is later.” Momo whines.
“Just go up the bed. Help me here, okay?” Sana's words probably got to her, as Momo stood up, stretching as she threw herself on the bed. A relieved sigh could be heard.
“Did you drink too much?” Sana asks. Momo's eyes were half open anyway as she checked the time on her phone.
“Just a glass.”
“Is drinking that inedible to you?”
“No. I'm not drunk. You told me to sleep on the floor.” Sana's brows furrow. She wasn't gonna buy it, but by the looks of Momo, she wasn't joking, nor would she be one to lie about that. Sana feels a haze of voices crashing onto her, calling her stupid. A creeping guilt weighing her heart down. She'll never drink like that again.
“How are you feeling?” Momo asks, her voice still low and raspy from sleep. Eyes now shut once again.
“My head hurts just a bit. I'll get water outside.” Sana says, but just when she was about to move away,
“Uh, wait,” Momo hesitates, “Do you remember anything from last night?”
And there it was. Her stomach started twisting with vague unease. Last... night? What did she mean? Sana clenched her jaw, wracking her brain for any clear memory beyond the pub’s warm lights, the bitter taste of too many shots, and the half-formed decision to send Momo her location. And then… nothing. Just a blur.
“I…” Sana started, but her voice came out dry and cracked. She cleared her throat, trying to play it off as just the thirst getting to her, “I remember texting you. You, uh, came to the bar, and we talked a bit, and… brought me back here.”
“That’s it?” Momo raised an eyebrow, her lips pressing into a thin line. The question carried an edge that made Sana’s stomach tighten. Was she supposed to remember more? Did she say something stupid? Do something worse? She cursed herself in her head.
“I mean, I might’ve…” Sana trailed off, her mouth dry as she searched Momo’s expression for a clue, a lifeline. Momo’s face betrayed nothing, which only made the silence feel more unusual, “Was I too much of a mess?”
Momo let out a soft laugh, one that didn’t quite reach her eyes.
“Not exactly,” she said, her tone deliberately ambiguous, “You just said a few things. That’s all.”
“What things?” Sana blurted, her pulse racing now. Momo shrugged, plopping herself back to the bed.
“Forget it. You probably don’t even remember anyway.” Sana’s head snapped up, panic building up. There must be something that's why she asked, right?
“Momo, what did I say?”
“You were drunk,” Momo replied, not looking back, and instead shifting focus to her phone, “It doesn’t matter.”
Sana wanted to push, but her throat felt tight. She didn’t know if it was the hangover, or the fear that something had happened last night—something significant—and she didn’t even know what.
Sana decided on just going out to grab water. But the moment she reached the kitchen, her back just buried itself on the counter, holding onto its edge, her mind hurting from trying to piece together the events of last night. Had she said something embarrassing? Something selfish?
Something… honest?
The worst part was the way Momo had spoken—like she didn’t want to talk about it. Sana didn't even know if she was hurt, or angry, but there was definitely something off-putting. Whatever she had said, or whatever had happened, one thing was certain—it was something she couldn’t just ignore. And judging by Momo’s tone, neither could Momo.
Sana sat in the conference room, staring at the mock-up of their album cover projected on the screen. Jihyo was running through the final schedule for their album release this Friday, her voice prompt and clear as she listed the press conferences, promotional performances, and interviews. The rest of the band chimed in occasionally, discussing the added songs to the setlist now.
Sana tried to focus, but her thoughts were elsewhere. It had been three days since she’d last seen Momo. Three days of torturing herself with small pieces of events when Momo brought her home. She’d spent hours replaying their conversation from the morning after, agonizing over the possibility that she might’ve said something terrible.
“And Sana, we’ll need you to confirm the acoustic setlist by tomorrow,” Jihyo's voice cut through her haze, and Sana only managed to blink, realizing too late that she had no idea what Jihyo had been talking about for an hour now,
“Uh, yeah. Sure." She mumbled, glancing down at her notebook.
“Alright, let’s wrap this up,” Jihyo clasps her hands together, “We’ll meet again on Thursday to finalize the release day agenda. Everyone good?” The band murmured their agreement, and chairs began scraping against the floor as they stood.
Jeongyeon hung back as the others filtered out. She caught Sana’s eye and jerked her head toward the door, “Walk with me?”
Sana hesitated but eventually followed. The hallway outside was quiet, the faint hum of conversation from the rest of the band a few steps away blending into the background.
“You’ve been off.” Jeongyeon said bluntly.
“I’m fine.”
“Yeah, like I believe you.” Jeongyeon stopped walking, crossing her arms and leaning against a wall, “Is this about your parents?” Sana froze.
“No,” she said too quickly, then winced, “I mean… not entirely.” Jeongyeon raised an eyebrow, waiting for what was next. Sana sighed again, her shoulders sagging, showing defeat altogether.
“A few nights ago, I-” She stopped herself, her pulse quickening. Saying it out loud made it too real, but Jeongyeon’s steady, patient gaze didn’t waver, “I drank too much. And I… I texted Momo.”
Jeongyeon’s expression was of a subtle shock, Sana noticed how she kept it to herself, but it was too obvious of a reaction.
“What happened?” Jeongyeon asks. Sana shook her head, her hands fisting the sides of her shirt.
“That’s the thing, I don’t remember. I only know she came to get me and brought me to her apartment, but when she asked me about it the next morning, I couldn’t tell her anything. She said I’d said some things, but I don’t even know what.”
“She didn't say what?” Her brows furrowed.
“She wouldn’t tell me. She just said it didn’t matter because I was drunk. But the way she looked at me…” Sana trailed off, feeling a weight on her chest, “I’ve been overthinking it ever since. I haven’t even seen her in three days, and it’s driving me insane.”
“Three days, huh.” Jeongyeon snorted a laugh, but she studied her for a moment, biting her lip with a hum, “Sana, let me ask you something—what do you want to happen?”
“What do you mean?” Sana blinked.
“I mean, what do you want with Momo?” Jeongyeon said, “You’ve been spiraling about this for days, but have you actually thought about what you want? Do you want to figure things out with her? Or are you just afraid of what she might think of you? Does it matter because of a personal image thing, or is it something else?
“That's too many questions.” Nonetheless, Sana knew exactly what her friend meant. And the thought alone made her stomach flip in a bad way. Jeongyeon sighed, placing a hand on Sana’s shoulder.
“Listen, I know it’s scary. But if you keep avoiding it, you’re just going to keep driving yourself crazy. You need to talk to her, Sana. Properly. Soberly. And this time, don’t let her walk away thinking it doesn’t matter to you. Because I'm pretty sure that's what you're worried about.”
Sana swallowed hard, the weight of Jeongyeon’s words sinking in. She nodded slowly, though her chest still felt heavy.
“Thanks, Jeong.” She replied quietly, her voice thick with all the mess bubbling up her stomach.
“Anytime, love. Now go drink some water or something, you look like you’re about to combust.” Despite herself, Sana managed a small smile. But as she watched Jeongyeon walk past her, the smile faded.
Another day, another heat of the moment for them.
The roar of the crowd hit Sana like a tidal wave as she stepped onto the stage, the glare of the spotlights almost blinding her. The audience was a sea of faces, their cheers so loud it was impossible to hear her own thoughts. The energy was high, vibrating through her chest as she gripped the microphone. Canary Yellow stood beside her, each band member soaking in the audience’s exhilaration.
“Thank you!” Sana shouted into the mic, her voice cutting through the noise. The crowd erupted in response, and she couldn’t help the smile tugging at her lips. This was the rush she lived for, the chaotic symphony of adrenaline and connection.
“We’re so happy to share this night with you,” she continued, her words flowing easily as the audience hung on her every syllable. “Our new album dropped today, who’s heard it already?”
The response was deafening, a thunderous wave of excitement. Fans held up their phones, and placards, some even showing lyrics and puns from the new album. Sana laughed, stepping back slightly to let the applause settle.
“Alright, alright,” Sana said, still grinning, and looking at the rest of the band who all had similar laughing faces, “I gotta ask, what’s everyone’s favorite track so far?”
The shouts were a jumble at first, a mix of song titles being yelled out at once. But one title started to rise above the rest, echoed by more and more voices until it became impossible to ignore.
“Under The Mattress!”
Sana’s breath caught in her throat. Oh god. For a moment, the noise around her seemed to dull, her heart pounding harder than the bass reverberating through the stadium.
“Under The Mattress!” The fans were relentless, their voices blending into a single chant, pleading for the song she’d written years ago.
“Wow, you guys really like that one, huh?” She managed, her voice steady despite the turmoil brewing inside her. The crowd cheered again, and Sana nodded, her face lit with the practiced enthusiasm of a performer. But her mind was elsewhere.
Momo.
The name played on repeat in her head, as it had been for days. That song had been her secret, a quiet ode to the woman who had wormed her way into Sana’s guarded heart without even trying for fuck's sake. It wasn’t meant to be a public declaration—it was too personal, too raw. But with the things happening since she saw her again, it felt like it was right to finally get it off her chest after so many years of pushing it away. And now it's out, living and breathing into the world, connecting with strangers who would never truly know.
As the crowd roared, Sana’s thoughts spiraled, flashing back to Momo’s sharp wit, her quiet strength, the way she’d looked at her every morning she'd crash at her apartment, her books and a laptop sprawled over the desk, her hair messy and the way she sleeps with drool all over her that Sana finds too cute. The sound of her voice when she’d greet Sana good morning, with small pecks all over her face. So sweet that it ruins her the whole day.
“Sana?” Jeongyeon’s voice cut through her haze, soft and steady beside her. Sana turned to see her bandmate watching her with a raised brow, subtly gesturing toward the crowd.
Right. She was still on stage.
Sana shook herself, plastering a grin back on her face, “Well, since you asked for it…” she said into the mic, her voice strong again as the crowd screamed in anticipation,
“Here’s Under The Mattress.” The applause was deafening, and the band launched into the opening chords of the song. As Sana began to sing, her voice filled with the bittersweet longing she’d poured into the lyrics, her mind couldn’t help but drift back to everything.
Everything she swept under the old mattress.
The band was backstage now, fixing themselves and putting away a few of their equipment as the table was being prepared for an after-party feast. They treated it as a celebration for the album release too. It was all chatters and cheers between them, and it's not just the band going around and grabbing food for themselves, most of the team was also there, almost everyone who worked on the album with them.
It was lively enough to cancel out Sana's messed up thoughts for now, especially how she gained a few more friends from the crew that worked with them in the album. It was all fun and food, and even drinks—but Sana was too traumatized to take even a glass of alcohol now.
“Hey guys,” Jeongyeon calls in an announced tone, but not too much to gather everyone's attention. She was outside for a while, and is now heading towards the band. But Sana noticed one thing wrong with her… is that…
“Can we join?”
Miss Myoui? What the hell is she doing here?
“Hi Mina!” The band greets her. So they're on a first name basis now?
Sana remains stoic about it, directing her look wherever else she could. When Mina sits with them at the table, Sana couldn't help but head to the food section for a while. Seeing the assistant had a strange effect on her—an effect that left a bad taste in her mouth. And the last time she saw her was in Momo's apartment even, too close to Momo than what normal workmates do. She must really go there often, they seemed comfortable.
“Hi.” Sana was startled by a sudden voice next to her, too sweet like honey. A woman was peeking her head towards her—Miss Myoui.
“Hey, Miss Myoui."
“Why do you keep calling me that?” The woman giggles, and it caused a slight tremble of heat in Sana's body, “Just call me Mina.”
“We're not close.” Sana huffs, focusing on getting dessert instead of the evil giggling woman beside her. She must be taunting her or something.
“You better get used to it, Sana.” Mina comments, “I won't bite or anything.”
“It's not like I'll see you again after this whole Forge deal anyway. Let's not act like we know each other.”
“I get why you're mad.” Mina's words make her pause from grabbing the tongs, “I haven't been considering your feelings.”
“What does that even mean? And I'm not mad.”
“Annoyed?” Sana shakes her head in a sarcastic laugh, “Well whatever it is, I hope I someday get on your good side.”
“Why are you even here? To mess with me? You can have her all you want. I'm not trying to interfere.” Sana was starting to get real annoyed now, thinking of whether to just flee the scene before she does anything unthinkable to this woman.
“Oh please, Momo is not my type.” Mina playfully rolls her eyes, “She’s sweet, but she's stupid. She's too lame to even try and flirt with anyone.” Sana raises a brow at her.
“Is this meant for anything?”
“I asked her if she wanted to come, but she caught a fever this morning. A terrible one.” Sana's thoughts quickly shifted into worry. What has Momo been doing? She felt a slight pang just thinking how hard it must be for her to even do the easiest of chores. Did she even eat? Or even drink enough water? Sana could feel her palms sweating, her grip on the plate loosening,
“She needs someone to take care of her, you know? Momo doesn't ask for help much.” Mina's words bring her back.
“Why don't you go, huh?”
“I don't want your friend to be jealous of her. I don't need double jealous people up my nose.”
...Friend?
“I told you, Momo's not my type.” Mina was giggling once again, probably picking up the way Sana was shocked at her words, “We're just friends. And I was just messing with you. I'm seeing Jeongyeon, didn't anyone break the news to you?”
What the hell? Sana's face was now twisted in all directions. It's been the first time she's ever wrong about someone. But what broke the confusion is the fact she just heard Momo was sick.
“Your face says it all, Sana.” Mina sighs this time, “I don't think she eats outside food. And she's probably too weak to go to a pharmacy. That girl does not know how to go anywhere without her car. You probably know all this or maybe you haven't caught up with all the push and pull going on—”
“I don't need to hear this, okay!” Sana says it a bit too loud. Her nerves were too pent up to form cohesiveness, and the pounding in her chest was another menace to be dealt with, “I know what you're saying and I'm gonna do it, okay!”
“Oh, that was rather easy.” Mina raises her brows, “Truce?”
“No.” Sana shakes her head, brows still tight together in disgust, “I don't trust you. Not yet.”
“I'm good with that.” Mina laughs, “You can borrow my car. I'm going with Jeongyeon after this.” And a wink.
Sana swore she'd never drive a car again for the life of her.
But she was swerving on the road with her foot tapping too hard on the gas pedal. She had Momo's address on the phone maps, cursing to herself until her soul would be sent to hell. Sana didn't bother to think if this was the right thing to do anymore.
Her head kept tracing back to that night, digging up whatever she had said that made Momo so distant. Sana knew all her lapses—the way she pushed her away a few years ago even if she didn't want it. Looking back was hard enough, seeing her again was torture. And now, it's a spiral of her thoughts that she kept naming as guilt.
But was it really guilt?
She was driving her assistant's car for christ's sake. Someone Sana knew she'd never lay a friendly hand for. But the offer was like a plea of the universe, a shot at something she’d inevitably take. If it was stupid enough, Sana was now able to recall that she cried that night, taking in Momo's scent until it etched a mark on her brain. She remembers that part, but she had to do better than that.
Spacing out mid-performance was also not her thing. But earlier was a haze of memories crashing onto Sana. She kept thinking of it as the emotions—the heat of the moment, the limelight giving her sappy nausea, but singing it the first time into a live microphone, so raw and heartfelt, caught Sana in a tight place. Dilemma between mind and the fire burning in her chest. She's never been this confused her whole life. Sana was always a headstrong, straightforward woman. But the thought of even just Momo's name had her legs weak. The mere memory of her scent had her nose craving for more. The mere image of her soft skin had her yearning for even just a graze from her fingers.
And it all falls down on her,
It all dawns back to the truth...
Withdrawn from the noise of the world,
Together, our bodies curl
I was sore under this old mattress,
But with you, it's an Alaskan king
We sweep it in the crevices like a secret,
When you buy yourself a bed, will you keep it?
You don't tell me you love me
I hope you do,
Even if I can't bring myself to
But when I feel your eyes, your life, your touch,
Baby I know you want me as much
You don't tell me you love me
But I know we do,
When the mattress dips, our bodies curl into
The kingdom of miracles, of tacit k nowledge and such
I want you to stay, next time I'll learn to tell you how much
Frightening and chilling, but the truth is all there is.
Notes:
This is such a sweet song. I feel the rush of letting go of all doubts whenever this plays. Try giving it a listen at the end part of this chapter, I chose this song specifically for that scene!
Again, the words for Under The Mattress are my own (or they're Sana's in this fic).
See you again tomorrow for another update! Thank you so much to all the reads, kudos, and comments so far!
Happy reading! :) And, Happy Jihyo Day! <3
Chapter 20: XX. Liar
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
I got too good at fighting chemicals,
And dodging arrows I was asking for.
Wading through the fog and then it disappeared
Naked when I'm here
And why should I deny what's all at once so crystal clear?
“I'm here for Momo Hirai?”
“I'm sorry, ma'am, but we need an authorization for visitors.” Sana was stuck at the gate. The guard was giving her quite a hard time. It was almost midnight, and she didn't want to bother Momo with a phone call. She headed to her apartment after buying a few ingredients from the store and stopping by a pharmacy.
“Uh, can you let it pass this time, please? It's too much but, I'm Sana Minatozaki." She winces at her own words, feeling all gross, "I could give you an album if you'd like? With a sign? Just this once?” Sana hates playing this card and the sweet voice she pairs with it. She's only ever used it once when she ran out of gas and lost her wallet. She loathes herself for it, but what other choice was there?
“Yes, ma'am, I know who you are. But I've met other celebrities in this building more than you think. I'm not giving you the pass unless authorized.” Sana bites her tongue. As if it wasn't embarrassing enough, this apartment really had to be saved for the wealthy. Momo had a knack of a choice.
Sana sighs. There really wasn't any other choice now. She dials Momo's phone, grinning awkwardly at the security guard as she waits for an answer. Sana was impatiently tapping her feet on the footrest, tracing her tongue all over the insides of her mouth.
But then the beep ends,
“Sana?”
“Momo!” Her tone came too excited, so she coughs to cut it down a little, “Sorry to bother, but I'm downstairs and I need an authorization to get in your apartment. Please don't ask questions. I'll see you in a few minutes. That's if you let me in. Okay, bye!”
Sana quickly ends the call, feeling her heart pounding out her ribcage. After a few minutes of awkwardly smiling at the guard, she gets the holy pass to the golden gates. Sana mutters an apologetic ‘thank you’ before maneuvering into the complex with trembling hands on the wheel. There was not a second her body felt at ease, and going up the elevator was even more deathly. Sana was bumping her head on the wall, counting on the floors until it reached Momo's.
And now, Sana breathes.
She knocks on the door.
Just a few seconds in, the door unlatches to reveal Momo—her eyes red, hair a mess, creases up her cheeks, a thick jacket and sweatpants on, and two tissues stuck to her reddened nose. She really was sick, and the sight was gut-wrenching alone. Momo turns around to her sleeve for a series of croupy coughs. Sana's face dropped.
“You look terrible.”
“Why are you here?” Momo was barely able to talk. It's like one more cough and she'd die. Sana's brows were stuck together at this point.
“You talk and look like a dried orange.” Momo glares at her. She huffs, but the action caused the tissue to fly away from Momo's nose—a trace of snot hanging from it which she quickly turns to hide. Sana snorts out a laugh.
“Are you here to just insult me?” Momo's tone was offended, but Sana couldn't help the laughter that broke through. Sana shakes away Momo's sour glare with the paper bags in her hand.
“I'm here to take care of you.” Sana lightly pushes Momo away through her waist when she didn't respond, closing the door and pulling Momo gently along by her arm. Just the feel of her wrist was burning—literally. Sana was careful not to put too much pressure, leading Momo to the living room and sitting her down. There was a blanket and large pillows on the couch.
“Have you been sleeping here?” Sana asks.
“Yeah.”
Sana crouches, leveling herself with Momo, before reaching a hand out and placing it on her neck. Her thumb lightly traces the sharp edge of Momo’s jaw, the motion slow, almost absentminded.
Her skin was burning. Not just warm, but truly feverish. She feels it more now compared to just her wrist. Sana lets out a breath, barely audible, as her fingers ghost down to the hollow of Momo’s throat. The heat of her skin seeps into Sana’s palm, but she doesn't pull away. Momo blinks up at her, eyes hazy, caught between sleep and wakefulness.
“W-What are you doing?” Her voice is rough, a little weak, but there’s something underneath it—that makes her feel explosions in her chest.
Sana disregards it with a chuckle—a breathy one, slow and deliberate, finally withdrawing her hand with an infuriating slowness.
“Checking if you’re still alive,” She murmurs, and slips in a cheeky grin, “Wouldn’t want to be accused of negligence.” Momo lets out a tired huff, shifting under the blanket.
“You didn’t have to come.”
Sana hums, “Didn’t I?”
Momo doesn’t answer, but her expression says enough. Sana smiles once again, shaking her head before reaching for the bag of groceries she brought.
“Mina said you don’t eat outside food, so I figured I’d save you from yourself.” She holds up a small takeout bag, “And in case I screw up, I have backup.”
Momo watches with her mouth agape as Sana shrugs off her coat, rolling her sleeves up like she owns the place. She heads to the kitchen, filling it with the sounds of scrambling pans. Momo doesn't even know if Sana is getting the correct things for herself, especially how overtime, she hears the soft hiss of oil searing from a pan, and a few disgruntled sounds. She didn't have the energy to peek, but every time Sana would reach the parts of her kitchen that could be seen through the living room, Momo's eyes were on her. She sees Sana through the haze of her head, hair tied up, her side profile extruding such softness to it, like she was an angel of some sorts. It's silly—Momo believes.
“Are you watching me?” Sana’s voice breaks the silence. She doesn’t turn around, but Momo can hear the musical teasing in her tone.
“No.” Momo closes her eyes, as if it did anything.
Sana clicks her tongue, “Liar.”
Momo hears her move around, opening and closing cabinets. Coursing through the area like she was a chef in her own restaurant, but her small shrieks gave away the struggles. Momo was feeling light-headed, a curve making its way up to her lip as her eyes remained closed,
Then, silence.
“You talk in your sleep, you know.” Sana’s voice is casual, too casual, with a giggle that came into it. And it's like Momo got transported to a non-existent world with fog all over her, and nothing but the voice of Sana echoing.
But then, Momo’s eyes snap open, her stomach twisting, and her breaths back to life. She mutters a ‘huh’ before realizing she's fallen asleep on the couch again.
“I- I don’t talk in my sleep.” It was hard to talk with the dry and itchy throat she had, and her lips were also chapped.
“You do.”
“I don’t.” Sana chuckles, setting something on the coffee table with a soft clink.
“Alright, if you say so.” Momo narrows her eyes at her, but she’s too exhausted to push further. Instead, she lets her head sink deeper into the pillow, sighing as the warmth of the room. Minutes pass, and Sana comes back with a bowl in her hands, crouching beside the couch again.
“Alright, sit up.” Momo groans.
“Too tired.”
Sana gives her an unimpressed look before moving closer, slipping an arm behind Momo’s back. Without waiting for permission, she hoists her up effortlessly, steadying her like she’s made of glass. The warmth of Sana’s arm against her back makes Momo’s breath hitch for a second, her fever-fogged mind taking too long to register the sudden proximity.
“You really need me doing this for you? Never thought you're clingy when sick.” Sana mutters, her face too close Momo could feel her breath. She felt a cough coming in, but the proximity had her in all restraints. She truly believes this woman is crazy, seeing Sana's eyes scan her face with a tantalizing grin. The sight alone sent shivers to her spine, but Sana's hand on her back and her soft skin sticking to her was enough for her insides to explode. A familar tickle down her stomach, setting her eyes on a familar set of plump lips…
“You should eat now.” Sana smirks, removing herself a bit too soon, which leaves Momo feeling cold from the absence of her. Sana holds up a spoon near her face, “Eat. Before you take your meds.”
Momo hesitates for a second before accepting the first spoonful. It’s warm, soothing, and—unfortunately—delicious. Unfortunate because Momo knew Sana would be smug about it just by her expectant look on her. It doesn't help that it's been hours since Momo has eaten—which means three spoons of rice in the morning and nothing else.
“Well?” Momo takes another spoonful, trying to seem indifferent. But Sana's hand was doing the job for her, and all Momo had to do was open her mouth for the next bite. Sana was feeding her like a toddler for god's sake.
“It’s fine.” Sana laughs, quiet and knowing. It's been a few spoonfuls already.
“You’re a terrible liar.”
Momo scowls but keeps eating, letting Sana feed her in slow, patient bites. It’s ridiculous, how this is even happening. At some point, Sana reaches out again, this time pressing the back of her fingers against Momo’s cheek, then her forehead. Her fingers linger, just barely brushing Momo’s temple before pulling away. The action made her cough in the middle of a bite, causing Sana to hand her a glass of water in panic.
“Careful.” Sana was tapping Momo's back lightly, “I don't intend my touches to cause you more sickness.”
“It’s not what you think.” Momo was trying to fight back with her strained and hoarse voice, sounding too weak for her own good. Sana teasingly hums. The girl continues to feed her until she had enough. Momo lays down after drinking the Pancold Sana gave. The latter sets the bowl down before shifting to sit beside her. The couch dips, and suddenly they’re too close again.
“You should sleep.” Sana murmurs, letting herself uninvited into Momo's blanket. The latter turns her head, watching her carefully.
“What are you doing?” She finds it absurd, how Sana was just casually lying next to her on the couch. Sure, there was enough space for two, but Momo was fine with just herself on it since earlier. Yet somehow, a warmth kept crawling on her arm, and then on her chest, and it's Sana's fingers, climbing up her skin and setting itself in between her collarbone and her neck. It was too dangerous, especially how Sana's eyes met hers in a sparkling gaze. Sana smiles so little, yet the furrow of Momo's brows didn't falter. Still, she was confused. Puzzled as to what the hell was happening.
“You know, I still don't remember what I said that night.” Sana says, the words came low and gentle, soft whispers in the middle of the night. “Will you forgive me?”
“It's okay, it doesn't matter anyway.” But just as Momo was about to look away, Sana stops her motions by the cheek, resting her palm on it, holding onto her like a lifeline. The small brushes of her thumb on Momo's oversensitive skin weren't left unnoticed.
“What I do remember is wanting to have you there, by my side.” It came out as a whisper, but Momo could still pick up how Sana had a small crack to her tone. And just like that, everything else blurred out into oblivion, her focus marked on the territory of Sana's gaze and the light cues of her voice, knowing every meaning to her tone in the back of her head. The tiniest shifts in Sana's notes pulled a memory from her gut, and it was impossible to ignore.
Impossible, when Sana touches her like this.
“You think that cuts for it, Momo?” Sana was still referring to her previous words. Momo wanted to answer it with the same edge she had before all this, but Sana is somehow best at putting her fences down. She's so good at making her fall all over her, too much that Momo wasn't hating it anymore. Too much that it was starting to ache in such a beautiful way.
“It doesn't.” Momo answers with feigned coldness, and her whispers already betray her.
“I still want you, and I'm sober. I mean it.” Sana bites her lip, her lips quivering along, “Does that cut for it?”
“I don't know.” Momo was starting to feel the heat in her eyes, building up a few dewdrops at the edge of her lids, “How can I be so sure? That this is not just a pity feeling you have for me?”
“I’m not the best person to trust, especially for you.” Sana's words had Momo questioning—wasn’t she supposed to defend her case?
“But hasn't fate decided? That we'd meet again?” Sana adds.
A moment in, and Sana already had a tear escaping her welling eyes. She paired a smile with it, and Momo could feel her heart dying to pop out of her ribcage. It was painful—but the kind of pain that didn't scare her, didn't threaten her,
The pain that didn't hurt her.
It doesn't make sense, it never did, but still, it was there.
Sana's fingers kept brushing her cheek, her movements with added urgency by a hair. It's like grasping if Momo was real. If they were really in each other's hold right now. It was like a dream—and this time, something they never want to wake up from.
“Don't you think so, Momo?” Sana had a desperate smile—one that was dying to get an answer from her. Her tears giving away how much she meant it.
And how real this all actually was.
“Do you think an asshole like me, who's screwed you up a thousand times, still deserves another chance?” At this point, both of them were just keeping the sobs away. Their eyes stuck at each other, reading the intentions, calculating each other’s movements but throwing all the risk. Their tears flowing freely into gravity, succumbing them into the warmth—the warmth that never left them.
“I don't know, will you leave me sinking again?” Momo's tone was small, as if she didn't want the girl to hear it.
“No promises.” Sana answers in such telling eyes, captivating Momo into something she knows she'll never escape now, “But if you do sink, I'll sink with you this time.”
“Aren't we being stupid?”
“I can't fight the current, Momo. Not anymore.” A sob comes out of her, and Sana hides it as an airy laugh, “Not when you're here, and all I want is to be by your side.”
“I... want you too, Sana.” Momo says finally, and it earns her a hopeful glint, “But can we go through it… slowly… this time?”
And suddenly, it's like all the fog has lifted, and everything became crystal clear.
Sana kept nodding continuously, her lips pressed to keep her sobs and the creeping smile away. But she couldn't help both from happening anyway. She kept smiling in between teary hiccups, and Momo couldn't help but return the same grins. And just like that, it was like everything had been put into its right place. Many pieces fitting rightfully. Although a lot more to say and place together, now, it was enough—Sana’s smile in between her nods, Momo's palm over hers now, caressing her hand as Sana caressed her cheek.
“Can I kiss you?” Sana whispers excitedly, her sobs dying down now.
“No.” Momo chuckles, “Slowly, remember? And I'm still sick.”
Sana couldn't help but pout, and it was too adorable that Momo shakes her head in a laugh.
“On the cheek, you can.” And Sana does so—lifting her head to place a light, chaste kiss on her cheek.
“Next time you'll be the one asking for it, Hirai.”
“Don't call me that.”
“What do you want? Baby?”
“No.”
“I’ll take that as a yes.”
“No.”
“Good night, baby.” Momo sighs.
“Good night, Sana.”
Oh my love, I lied to you,
But I never needed to.
Oh my love, I lied to you,
But you always knew the truth.
Notes:
It's the first time I used the song lyrics two times in a chapter. I feel like it is fitting as SaMo finally broke through all the doubts. Can we finally breathe now?
This song is from Paramore's new album This Is Why, and just a quick backstory for those who don't know them—Hayley Williams (vocals) and Taylor York (rhythm guitar) have been best friends since they were teens in Paramore (they're now at their 30s). Hayley has opened up about going through a toxic marriage and divorce (the After Laughter album is all about it). FF to today that Hayley and Taylor are in a confirmed relationship, she opens up in an interview about the meaning of this song (Liar) and how falling for her best friend has felt for her:
"Williams said the the track reflects the initial anxiety and fear she had after realizing she has real feelings for York. “When something has ease to it and something feels healthy and respectful, it must be wrong,”" — Wang, S. (2024) via Nylon.
So this has been a precious chapter to me because SaMo's story here connects not just to the song, but also the inspo behind it. My heart is aching. :')
Happy reading! Thank you so so much for all the support! Another chapter will be posted tomorrow!
Chapter 21: XXI. Tell Me It's Okay
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
Tell me it's okay to be happy now,
Because I'm happy now.
The first thing Momo registers upon waking up is the weight pressing down on her stomach.
Her brows furrow as she groggily shifts, body sluggish with sleep. There’s warmth all around her—heavy warmth, and something solid draped over her midsection. Her mind is slow to catch up, still swimming in a hazy half-dream state, but her fingers twitch against the fabric of a shirt that isn’t hers.
Then, it clicks.
Sana.
Momo blinks her eyes open, the dim morning light filtering through her large apartment window that she forgot to put a curtain over, casting a soft golden hue over everything. And there, right beside her, sprawled out on the couch they've fallen asleep on together—is Sana, fast asleep, her leg shamelessly thrown over Momo’s stomach.
Momo exhales slowly, her lips parting as the weight of last night’s confession sinks in...
Another chance.
That’s what Sana had asked for. And Momo—despite all the years apart, despite all the pain—said yes.
A soft, almost helpless sigh escapes her. She should feel more nervous, shouldn’t she? She should be panicking, overthinking, questioning herself. But she isn’t.
Instead, as she lies there, staring at the girl who once shattered her and is now putting her back together in quiet, steady pieces, she feels... light.
Lighter than she has in years.
Sana’s face is peaceful in sleep, her lips slightly parted, lashes dark against her skin. There’s something careless about the way she’s sleeping—arm stretched above her head, mouth slack, one leg sprawled carelessly over Momo like she belongs there. Like she’s done this a thousand times before.
Momo presses her lips together, swallowing back the instinctual urge to roll her eyes. God, she’s insufferable even when unconscious.
Still, she makes no move to shift Sana’s leg off her. Minutes pass like this, Momo drifting in and out of consciousness, letting herself be wrapped in the moment. But then, Sana stirs.
A sleepy groan. A stretch. A nuzzling motion against Momo’s shoulder that makes her stomach twist.
“Morning, baby.” Sana mumbles, voice thick with sleep. Momo stiffens almost instantly.
“Don’t call me that.”
Sana chuckles, slow and lazy. She still hasn’t fully opened her eyes, but the smirk tugging at her lips tells Momo she’s enjoying this too much.
“Why not? You let me last night.”
“That was different.” Momo glares at her, cheeks flushing against her will. Sana hums, finally cracking one eye open to peer at her.
“How?”
Momo opens her mouth, then closes it. Damn her fever for making her slow.
“I didn't let you. You just called me that.” Sana grins, shifting closer—like she isn’t already half on top of Momo.
“Do you feel any better now?”
“Maybe.”
“Hm.” Sana lifts a hand, brushing Momo’s hair out of her face, her fingers lingering for just a second too long, “I must be a miracle worker.” She whispers lowly.
“You’re annoying.” Momo swats at her hand, but it’s weak, half-hearted. Sana laughs, finally stretching her limbs properly before sitting up, her weight leaving Momo all at once. The loss of warmth is instant, and Momo hates how much she notices it.
“So,” Sana yawns, rubbing the back of her neck. She looks down at Momo, who’s still lying there, eyes lidded, looking more exhausted from dealing with her than from the fever, “Did you listen to the album yet?”
“No.” Sana tilts her head, studying her.
“You did, didn’t you? You probably even waited for the premiere.”
“No.” Momo shifts, expression unreadable. Sana giggles.
“Which track’s your favorite?” Sana leans in, her voice dropping just slightly, “I wrote one by myself. Maybe you'd like listening it.”
“Don’t be so full of yourself.”
But Sana only grins, her eyes warm and knowing towards Momo. She shakes her head in a chuckle she let out. She stretches once again, heading to the large windows to marvel at the cityscape under the morning sun.
“Momo is a bad liar.”
Sana stands in the hallway of the company building, slipping on her leather jacket, phone buzzing in her hand.
A message from Momo,
Don’t be late to your interview.
Sana’s lips twitch as she reads it. Before she could type, her phone vibrates again.
And don’t say anything stupid.
Sana’s grin widens.
You wound me. When have I ever said anything stupid?
There's a compilation on the internet.
So you look me up online?
Your interest flatters me.
Sana chuckles under her breath, slipping her phone into her pocket before walking towards the studio. The studio lights are bright, but she's been used to it after countless interviews. Sana leans back against the plush couch in the waiting area, arms crossed, tapping her foot against the floor absentmindedly. Her phone is still in her pocket, as she feels another vibration.
No.
She exhales through her nose, unable to stop the smile creeping onto her lips.
“Ahem.” A familiar voice interrupts. Sana blinks up, only to find Jeongyeon standing over her, arms folded, expression suspiciously amused. Sana narrows her eyes.
“What?” Jeongyeon tilts her head, watching her carefully. Then, without warning, she coughs again. Even louder this time.
“Are you dying?”
“No. I just needed to get your attention.” She leans against the armrest beside Sana, “You’re smiling like an idiot.”
“No, I’m not.” Sana scowls, and Jeongyeon only whistles teasingly in response, “You’re imagining things.”
“Right. And I bet this has nothing to do with a certain someone?”
“Shut up.” Sana's eye roll causes Jeongyeon to grin, looking entirely too pleased with herself.
“You’re so obvious, it’s painful.”
“I hate you, you know? I don't even know why we're friends.”
“Love you too, champ.” Jeongyeon pats her shoulder before sitting next to her. Sana raises a brow at her.
“You and Mina,” Sana shakes her head in a scoff, “I never thought you'd go behind my back like that.”
“Are you mad?”
“Obviously.” Sana scoffs a chuckle, she didn't mean it, Jeongyeon knew that too.
“Sorry I didn't tell you sooner.”
“Well, you do owe me the whole story.”
“Of course.” Jeongyeon grins sheepishly, “I hope you become friends somehow.”
“I returned her car this morning.” Sana shakes her head in a laugh, “As long as she doesn't shit on you. And that you're happy. Then maybe.” Jeongyeon bumped their shoulders together, while nudging her head to the side like a giddy high schooler.
“Come on, let’s go. Time to make sure we don’t say anything stupid on live television.” Sana nods. They walk towards the area where the cameras focused on, with artist seats for each of them. While on the way, Sana's phone buzzes one last time.
She doesn’t check it yet. But she already knows who it’s from.
And she already knows it’ll make her smile again.
It's been a week of Sana focusing on the promotions with the band. It's been pretty busy, since the new album's garnering significant success. It has charted number 1’s on numerous platforms, and the fans have been going crazy—new memes surfacing, fan theories all over the internet, and more and more people asking for added shows in their tour dates.
The band met about it a few times, and there's been a talk with the creatives to help it push through. Only one last thing, though…
A meeting with Forge.
But this time, instead of loathing over it, Sana has been looking forward to it since the morning.
She's been exchanging texts with Momo the whole week. Their schedules couldn't fit a meet-up yet. She wanted to see her. Badly. And Sana had been fighting over herself on whether to visit Momo's apartment in the middle of the night. But something in her hesitated. Sana had never been the kind to second-guess herself, never been the kind to hesitate when she wanted something—but Momo made her shy in a way no one else ever had. She had thought about stopping by Momo’s apartment more times than she could count, had even grabbed her keys once or twice, only to put them back down. What if Momo thought it was too much? What if she was busy? What if she regretted saying yes?
Momo did say to take things slow, and at least Sana has been happy to have something to look forward to everyday, even just on her phone.
Happy—but definitely not content. Sana would give up everything now just to see Momo. Sana had always known longing. It was a familiar ache, one that she had carried in the quiet spaces between songs, in the hollow ringing after a show, in the weight of her own name when worshipped by people who didn’t know her past. But this—this was different. It wasn’t just longing. It was a raw, gnawing absence, a physical thing that curled around her ribs and tightened whenever she let herself think too much of Momo not being by her side. The texts weren't enough.
She missed Momo in ways she hadn’t expected. It wasn’t just the grand things—wasn’t just the way Momo had looked at her that night, wasn’t just the words they had said in the quiet or the promise between them that Sana had clung onto like a lifeline. It was the small things, like the way Momo always looked down to her feet when feeling awkward, or the way she'd effortlessly walk around her place with a water pitcher in hand, or the way she'd roll up the sleeves of her jacket because it's too long for her, or the way Momo would look at her stumped whenever she teased her.
Sana missed the scent of her. Not the scrumptious perfume she wore—though she liked that too—but the way Momo smelled when Sana leaned in close. She misses the fresh warmth hitting her nose whenever she secretly (or denyingly) sniffs Momo's skin. She missed the soft feeling when they brushed past each other, the barely-there contact that had always been enough to make Sana greedy for more.
Sana had never been scared of many things. But she was scared of this. Of wanting Momo too much. Of ruining it before it even began.
So she stayed put. But the ache didn’t. It sat heavy in her chest, growing with every passing hour, every missed text, every moment that stretched too long without Momo in it.
So now that the meeting with Forge is underway, Sana had been shamelessly spying on Jihyo or Seungcheol about that schedule. This time, Sana leaned against the counter of the recording studio lounge, swirling the remnants of her coffee cup. Jihyo sat across from her, cross-checking schedules on her iPad, barely looking up as she rattled off updates about the band’s upcoming events. Sana wasn’t really listening—not to the other stuff, at least. Her focus drifted elsewhere, to a more specific detail.
She waited until the rest of the band went on break before casually slipping her question towards Jihyo, as if it were nothing.
“So… you said earlier the meeting with Forge would be soon?” Sana asked, keeping her voice deliberately light, as though it had only just crossed her mind.
“Yeah, we informed them about wanting to add the dates. Nothing final yet.” Sana nodded slowly, even humming as she does so.
“Right, right. And… when is that happening again?” Jihyo glanced up briefly at her.
“Thursday.”
“Morning or afternoon?”
Jihyo’s eyes narrowed slightly, though her expression remained neutral.
“Afternoon, I think. Why?”
“Just wondering.” Sana shrugs, “You know, in case it runs late. Wouldn’t want to schedule anything after.” Jihyo just sighs.
“You don’t schedule things, Sana. I do.”
“Right. Of course. Just making sure.” Sana cleared her throat, reaching for the nearest distraction—her phone, the window, the non-existent dust on the counter. She could feel Jihyo’s gaze lingering on her. The silence stretched for a moment, with Sana waiting for the right chance to flee.
“Sana.” Jihyo said, sighing as she let down the iPad, “If you want to see Momo, just go see her.”
Sana froze. Her grip on the coffee cup tightened slightly before she scoffed, tilting her head back in a laugh as if the idea were ridiculous.
“That’s not-”
“Oh, don’t even try,” Jihyo cut in, shaking her head, “You’ve been asking stupid questions you don’t actually care about all week, pretending you’re all nonchalant, but you’re not. You’re obvious.”
Sana frowned, lips parting, but Jihyo just raised a hand to stop whatever excuse was about to come out of her mouth.
“I’m not sure what happened between you two this time,” Jihyo continued, her voice gentler now, “But if you miss her, just go. Aren't you two trying again?”
Sana stared down at her coffee, jaw tight. She hated how easily her friends saw through her, how the truth sat so plainly between them. She sighed, rubbing a hand down her face.
“It’s not that simple.”
“Then make it simple.”
Sana swallowed, her throat suddenly dry. She didn’t answer, just nodded once before stuffing her hands into her pockets as she made her way to the door.
“Thursday. 2 PM.”
Sana paused, just before disappearing. She didn’t turn around, but Jihyo could see the way her shoulders straightened, just for a second, before she continued walking. Jihyo sighed, shaking her head.
“Hopeless lesbians.” She muttered to herself, before picking up her iPad again.
“It's happy hour, Ms. Hirai! Take a few more shots.” Momo shook her head politely, setting herself in a tight corner. The atmosphere was buzzing with energy—the lights were bright, but she can't see the ground anymore with how much people were at the restaurant. She hated it so much that she just wanted to rush home and hug her knees on the couch as she waited for her phone to buzz.
Because right now, her phone had been silent for two hours and fifty-three minutes.
Momo never attended company dinners, because the so-called company dinner was exactly what she had always assumed it would be—loud, messy, full of people who had already forgotten they were supposed to be professional colleagues. And it's not like she knew anyone in the office except for Mina and some third-party contractors.
But her hell of a brother forced her into this, saying that at his time, he'd always treat his employees to a company dinner-slash-drinks outside, and that they loved him for it. But Momo was nothing like Soonyoung, she was more like Jeonghan, but he wasn't there to defend her when Soonyoung told the office that Momo would be treating them to happy hour—even if she loathes it.
She didn’t care for the loud conversations, the half-drunken laughter, the clinking of shot glasses over inside jokes she wasn’t part of. They even hated her for all she remembers, but one free dinner and they're pretending to suck up to her now. And as much as she tried to pretend otherwise, she wasn’t actually listening to the story the guy across from her was telling—something about a mistress and his icky opinions. She didn’t care.
“You know, that girl who asked you to take more shots, she badmouths you best.” Mina whispers to Momo, but it only registers halfway as Momo checks her phone on her lap once again. But her heart sinks being met by nothing—an empty inbox.
The whole week had been driving her insane—the way she had started hating the feeling of being alone. It hadn’t always been like this. Momo used to like being alone. She had spent years perfecting it, finding solace in solitude, in routine, in the quiet that didn’t demand anything from her.
But then, there’s Sana.
Sana, who had walked back into her life, and suddenly, the solitude wasn’t peaceful anymore—it was suffocating. And now, sitting in this restaurant, drowning in noise that didn’t belong to her, she felt alone in a way she hadn’t in a long time.
She exhaled sharply, setting down the cup she didn't drink from with more force than necessary. It had been three hours since Sana last texted her. It was stupid. So stupid. She had survived three years without Sana. What was three hours?
Momo clenched her jaw, resisting the urge to check her phone again. She had already done it too many times, pretending to be reading emails, pretending she wasn’t waiting—waiting in a way she swore she would never do again.
She had promised herself that she wouldn’t need Sana. That she wouldn’t let herself get pulled back into the orbit of someone who had left her once before.
But then Sana had asked for her back.
And Momo—who had never really let go, who had spent three years pretending she didn’t care when she had never stopped—had said yes.
And now, she was paying for it.
“Earth to Momo?” Mina suddenly pulls her from the thoughts, and Momo only managed to raise her brows, "Damn. You're hung up.”
“What does that even mean?” Momo was starting to get annoyed, more than she should.
“Why? She hasn't texted you back? You're helpless.” Mina made her way uninvited into Momo's space, peeking at her screen that was laid bare. There was no point in hiding it anyway. But what caught her off guard, was Mina suddenly hitting the back of her head. Momo was able to suppress a yelp, and it was thankfully unnoticed by her drunk colleagues.
“What the hell?!” She tells her off in annoyed whispers.
“Sana texted you last. You haven't replied to her.”
“What do I even say!”
“Hi, I'm Momo and I'm stupid.” Mina rolls her eyes, and Momo gives her a sharp glare, “You're so tragic. Just reply to her, dude.”
Jihyo’s been on my ass all day. I think she’s plotting my murder.
If I disappear, don't miss me too much.
I won't.
Wow? Rude.
For that, you owe me dinner.
I don’t owe you anything.
That’s crazy because I remember holding you last week while you were sick. Thought that would earn me some points.
But no. My efforts go unappreciated. This world is cruel.
You are dramatic
And you like it
No
But a yes to dinner?
“You’re unbelievable.” Mina sighs, and Momo clenched her jaw—three hours—locking her phone and shoving it into her lap.
“I didn’t know what to say.”
“You can literally just say anything. She’d probably just tease you and move on.”
“It’s not that easy.”
“Why?” Mina leaned back in her chair, staring at her like she was the dumbest person alive.
“Because.”
“Because?”
Momo glared at her.
“Wow. Such a strong argument.”
Momo exhaled, rubbing her temple. She was being ridiculous. She knew she was being ridiculous. But something about responding to that made her bones chill in excruciating tens. She's not sure if Sana even means it, or she's just teasing her and she'll end up getting embarrassed for it.
“You know what? Just call her when this dinner ends. You obviously want to. And Sana’s probably waiting for it, too.”
Call Sana?
Momo swallowed, staring down at her lap once again.
“You’re thinking about it.” Mina says again.
“I am not.”
“You so are.”
“Shut up, Mina.”
“Ugh. I'm not talking to you anymore.” When Mina left, Momo didn’t bother to respond. She was too busy staring at her phone again, pretending not to think about the existence of the call icon staring right at her.
This carries on. After the company dinner, they were taking a lot of pictures and some of the employees were going too near her, calling her a cool boss and stuff they'd probably never think of while sober. Momo just plays with it, until eventually sighing in relief as she gets in her car—her safe bunker.
The city was quiet at this hour, but the muffled hum of street life and the distant echoes of traffic filled the spaces where her thoughts should be.
Momo remained seated in her parked car, hands resting on the steering wheel, and the leather was cold under her touch. She flexed her hands, then released them, then flexed them again. She shifted in her seat, feeling the stiffness settle in her shoulders.
She should drive home, go inside her beloved apartment, take a shower, and sleep off whatever strange weight had settled in her chest.
But she wasn’t moving.
Her phone sat in the passenger seat, screen dark. She shouldn’t look at it. But her fingers were achingly twitching. Momo exhales slowly, tilting her head back against the headrest, blinking up at the ceiling, and closing her eyes. Her hands found the steering wheel again, gripping it now, tight enough that the leather creaked against her skin. The weight in her chest settled deeper, pressing against her ribs.
But Momo couldn't help it—she grabbed her phone from the passenger seat. Just barely lifting it. She tapped the screen. And still nothing but Sana's last message sat there, still waiting.
She should reply.
Or she shouldn’t.
Momo chewed on the inside of her cheek, her thumb hovering over the screen. A single word. A joke. A brush-off. Come on, Momo.
She sighed, dropping the phone back onto the seat with a soft thud. She shifted again, hands tightening and loosening on the steering wheel.
This was stupid. So, so stupid.
She closed her eyes, ready to face the road. It was just another bad and tiring day.
Yet a sudden buzz awakes her. A sharp vibration against the leather seat.
Momo startled, her whole body jerking at the sound. Her knee knocked into the steering column, and her elbow hit the door. She fumbled, nearly knocking her phone onto the floor. Momo's pulse spiked, her fingers were shaking as she turned the phone over.
One new message,
From Sana.
Momo stared at it, her thumb hovering over her lockscreen. She swallowed her drying throat as she clicked the notification bubble. The car unnecessarily getting hotter and hotter while typing in her passcode, and then,
Momo, are you at your apartment?
The text awakened her numbing senses, torturing her fingers for a quick reply.
Not yet. We had a company dinner.
But going home now. Why?
Momo shakily sighs. Okay, okay, that should be enough—
Oh.
I'm here, downstairs.
Momo barely even manages to reply “I'm on my way” before the engine revs, her panicked senses taking all over her as she starts going through the busy road.
The city was unforgiving tonight. Every red light, every pedestrian leisurely crossing the street, every unnecessary turn someone took in front of her—everything felt like it was designed to keep her from getting home fast enough. Her fingers drummed impatiently against the steering wheel, her other hand gripping the gearshift a little too tightly. Her apartment wasn’t far, but tonight, the roads stretched longer than usual, making her stomach twist.
Momo exhaled when she finally turned into the street leading to her apartment, catching sight of a familiar figure standing just outside the gate.
Sana was leaning against the wall, hands tucked into the pockets of her jacket, looking slightly disheveled. A cap sat low on her head, and a hoodie was layered underneath her jacket. She must’ve come straight from rehearsals.
Momo barely put her car in park before she was rolling down the window. Sana turned her head, and for a brief moment, under the dim glow of the streetlight, a slow smile tugged on her lips. Momo reached over to unlock the passenger door. Sana slipped into the seat beside her. And as she settled in, Momo stole a glance—she looked exhausted. There were faint shadows under her eyes, and her movements were slightly sluggish.
“Have you been waiting long?” Momo frowns. Sana had been busy all week, and still, she visits her at this hour, even managing to show Momo a toothy smile.
“Just a bit.” Sana shakes her head animatedly. Does she even know she's pouting so adorably?
“I'm sorry.” Momo bites the inside of her mouth, “You should've told me that you're coming.”
Sana just shrugs, “It's not like I planned this.” Momo didn't respond, instead, they went quiet
The short ride through the apartment complex was also quiet—not the heavy kind of silence that used to sit between them, but a quieter, lighter kind. The type that didn’t demand anything. The type that simply was.
They entered the building, stepping into the elevator. It was empty, save for the two of them. Momo pressed the button for her floor, shifting slightly to lean against the railing. Sana stood beside her, close enough that their arms brushed. She ignored it at first. But then it happened again. And again. Soft, barely-there touches. Not accidental. Not deliberate, either. Somewhere in between.
It was funny, spending a week not having Sana around felt like a physical ache, this simple touch was making her lightheaded. She risked a glance. Sana was staring at the floor numbers, her expression unreadable. Momo gulped, thinking of something to break the silence.
“You should take off your cap before you sleep, you know. You’ll get hat hair.” She says the first thing that came to mind, painfully so. Sana snorts a laugh.
“You’re silly. You’re really worried about my hair?”
“It’s just a fact.”
“Well, here’s another fact,” Sana shot back, but she did remove her cap, showing her face in a better way under the low lights, “It’s cold yet you’re not wearing sleeves again. Trying to impress people at company dinner?”
“I have a coat. I just have a lot of clothes like this.”
“Sure, babe.”
“I'm not impressing anyone.” Momo huffed, pressing her lips together to keep her lip from curving upwards. Sana giggled sweetly at the way her false frustration slid through.
Then, the elevator chimed.
They stepped out, walking down the hall toward Momo’s door. She unlocked it swiftly, stepping inside, then held it open for Sana. The woman entered, toeing off her shoes before walking further in. Then, without warning—
She turned back, stepped close, and wrapped her arms around Momo.
For Sana, she registered how Momo stiffened slightly as their bodies made contact, but she didn’t pull away. The warmth of Momo’s chest pressed against hers sent a familiar heat straight to her core—one she hadn’t realized had been festering, waiting for this exact moment. Her pulses picked up its pace as she gently held Momo, her hands lingering on her back. She could feel Momo’s breath on her neck, a soft exhale that had Sana fighting the urge to close the distance even more, to just hold her tighter, to never let go.
But then, with surprising strength, Momo pushed her away—just enough to break the embrace, but not enough to sever their hands that were tied tightly together. Sana stumbled back, a little off balance, but before she could say and think of anything, Momo’s hands found her waist and pulled her again, guiding her toward the couch. There was something different in the way Momo moved now—something that burned, something strong. Momo sat on the couch first, sinking down onto the cushions with a quiet exhale. Sana was still a bit caught in the motion, but before she could fully process it, Momo’s hands tugged her gently but firmly, pulling her into her lap.
Sana’s breath hitched at the sudden closeness. The shift was surprising, like the world suddenly shrunk to just the two of them. Momo’s hands were on her waist again, burning and steady, guiding her so that she was now straddling her lap, facing her. Sana didn’t know what to say—or couldn’t say anything. Instead, she simply looked into Momo’s eyes, feeling the heat rise to her cheeks. She could feel her heartbeat threatening to escape her ribcage, as Momo buried her face into Sana's chest, sighing, as their breaths synced with ease.
They settled into the silence for a stretched moment. Just feeling each other's touches, shuddering so lightly at the way the warmth had shocked them both. Sana could feel the tight yet soft way Momo has wrapped her small frame.
But Sana suddenly jolts,
She feels the tinniest movements crawling up her skin—and it was a second before she registered the small kisses and sniffs that Momo was cruelly placing on her neck. The faintest of contacts sent a wave of sensation, causing Sana to bite her tongue, letting out a shaky whimper she failed to suppress.
“Baby, don't do that.” Sana lets out a throaty chuckle, barely even able to grasp reality as Momo's kisses felt like a whole different world. They were nothing but light—just the surface of her lips, and yet, it drove her insane. Momo stopped to look at Sana, and the latter pressed their foreheads together. Momo's mouth was parted open, looking at her dearly in the eyes and she swears she saw them sparkle with covet.
“I can't help it. You're irresistible.”
“Momo, you're making it hard for me.” Sana whines in whispers, mindlessly burying her fingers into the girl's hair. Momo was painstakingly moving her hands up and down her waist, and it took everything in her not to lose it.
“How was your day?” But Sana still manages to ask, giggling to mask the heat that coiled in her insides.
But Momo was insufferable—she pulled Sana in even closer by the lower part of her waist, as if they weren't already stuck skin to skin. Sana definitely caught a hint on what she wanted to happen—with the way her palms moved in jagged circles over Sana's waist, even going as low as her hips, and so much of it that Momo was slightly tugging on the waistband of her jeans, pulling it towards herself.
“It was bad.” Momo's words were the only thing that pulled Sana out of it, holding onto what sanity was left of her. But Momo's words were ironically half-meant from the low and fervor tone alone.
“Mm? How so?” Sana almost stutters, especially how one of Momo's hands were now shamelessly exploring near her stomach, tugging the fabric over it and feeling the girl's knuckles burying in her skin every so often.
“I waited for your text.”
“You didn't reply to me, silly.” Sana was feeling an uncomfortable heat down her midsection, her abdomen hurting a bit from the blood pressure rising like a whistling kettle. Momo's touches were a menace—the devil's suffering to humanity—or, just to her.
“If I was lying, I'd say it was fine. But I was waiting for you to answer me. I got sad.” Sana says again, wetting her drying lips as Momo's stare were getting too intent—too eager.
“I'm sorry. I didn't know what- to say-” Sana felt a sense of victory flush over her as Momo turned beet red the second she started moving her hips in the slightest motion. Sana registered how Momo's fingers scurried for somewhere to hold—setting themselves on a part of her body too low and dangerous.
Sana hums teasingly, having Momo uncomfortably shifting from her movements. Her mouth was left open, looking down to her moving hips and back at Sana again.
“I thought you had a thing for waiting?” Sana catches on the suppressed whine she let out, which urged her to keep moving criminally on Momo's body.
“I- I'm not sure.”
Sana shakes her head in a laugh.
Yet in a split second, she lifts herself up, moving away and leaving Momo reaching for her from the couch.
“I've been thirsty. Mind if I help myself?” Sana says as she turns her back and heads to the kitchen, giggling as the last she's seen of Momo was a disheveled mess, sprawled on the couch with her corporate clothes. Though it doesn't keep her own legs from feeling weak. Moving away just made her remember the contact of their bodies even more.
Sana pours herself a glass. Painfully slow. She gulps with equal speed, letting the flames inside her die down before heading back to the couch, and placing a glass on the table for the dumbfounded Momo.
“Mm? What? Did you dry out?”
“Y- Yeah- I mean... No.” Momo hurriedly grabs the glass and gulps it in one go. Sana snorts a laugh as she sits herself on the couch next to her, making sure to place some distance.
“So, why didn't you reply?” Sana hates beating around the bush, though her voice was quieter than she intended. She thought about it all night while staying late for rehearsals. She figured maybe Momo was asleep, but not responding to her texts as early as seven wasn't usual—because Sana knew from experience how they'd stay up all night to exchange plain nonsense over the phone.
Sana wasn't looking at her, and yet, she feels Momo uncomfortably shifting on the couch. Sana also felt herself trembling lightly, and aside from the cold from the absence of Momo's touch, she knew it was something deeper—something clawing at her ribs. It was still something only Momo could soothe.
Her heart was still racing from earlier—from the way Momo’s touches had lingered in areas unspeakable, from the way their breaths had tangled in soft grunts and long exhales. Momo had touched Sana like she meant it, like she wanted this as much as Sana did. And she had let herself believe in that touch, let herself drown in the warmth of it, even though she'd been thinking about Momo not replying all night.
“Sana…” Momo exhaled slowly, but then stopped herself, as if distinguishing the shape of the words before speaking them.
“I just need to know, Momo. Be honest with me. If you—” she swallowed, her throat tight. “If you don’t want this, if you don’t want me, and you were just carried away that night, just say it.” Sana was starting to feel her eyes hurt.
“No, Sana. That’s not—”
“Then what?” Sana cuts in, her voice unsteady, “I know I’ve been overwhelming. I know I’ve been pushing, and maybe… maybe you’re not ready for this. But, Momo, I-” She exhaled, biting the inside of her cheek, “I just need to know if you really want this. If you’re sure. That things like hinting at dinner wouldn't scare you.”
“Sana,” Momo finally says softly, leaning towards her, aching to reach, but instead, her hands curling into fists at her sides. “I want this as much. I want you." she admitted, barely above a whisper. “I really do.”
Sana’s breath caught in her throat, but she didn’t move. Not yet.
“Then why didn’t you reply?” Sana asked again, softer this time. Momo sighed, rubbing her fingers over her temple.
“Maybe I chickened out.”
“Maybe?”
“I didn't know what to say. I wasn't used to it yet.” Momo admits, “I don’t want to fuck this up again. I don’t want to second-guess things again. I just—”
Sana let out a breathless laugh, but it wasn’t out of amusement. It was of frustration, longing—every emotion she had been trying to suppress crashing over her at once.
“And yet, what was that?” Sana says, her voice shaking, “You still held me like you knew exactly what you wanted. That was confusing.”
“I know,” she murmured. “I’m sorry.”
Sana let her head drop back for a moment, staring at the ceiling as if it held the answer to all of this.
“What am I supposed to do, Momo?” Sana asks, desperation laced in her tone, “Pretend that when you touch me, I don’t want to give in to you completely? And forget how we're taking things slow?”
Momo swallowed hard, “No,” she said, leaning even more closer now, hesitant but determined, “I don’t want you to pretend. I don’t want to pretend either. And I understand that I've been confusing with the way I didn't respond to you earlier.”
Silence stretched between them, thick with unsaid things. Sana exhaled shakily, her hands curling at her sides before she forced herself to look at Momo again. Her voice was quieter now.
“I know I hurt you before.”
Momo’s fingers twitched at her sides, but she didn’t look away.
“I know I left, and I know that’s part of why you’re hesitating now. You don’t have to say it—I can feel it. And I know it. I regret everything, Momo, so damn much.” Sana took a deep breath, needing it to keep her from welling her tears out, “If I were you, I’d be scared, too.”
Momo opened her mouth as if to say something, but Sana held up a hand, needing to get this out.
“But Momo, really, I’m not going anywhere this time.” Sana’s voice wavered, but the intent in her eyes was firm, “I need you to know that. I’m not expecting you to forget everything, or to trust me blindly just because I say I won’t leave again. I just-” she exhaled sharply, shaking her head. “Let me prove it to you. Do you want me to?"
Momo took in a deep breath, her fingers tightening into the covers of the couch, but she did brave herself—as moved closer to Sana, just a bit, enough to put her hand above hers.
“I know you mean it, Sana.” Momo murmured, meeting Sana's gaze, “And I'll show you more how I want this too. Properly. And not suddenly grabbing onto you like that like a horny teenager.”
Sana’s breath hitched slightly, yet she was able to breathe out a chuckle right into it. Her heart was squeezing painfully in her chest, but it wasn't a bad kind of painful—if that even made sense.
But Momo did gesture for a hug which Sana gladly accepted. She rested her chin peacefully on Momo's shoulder, feeling the light caresses on her back as she kept the sobs from happening.
“I'm sorry for everything, Momo.”
“Shh, it's okay now.” Momo whispers against her, placing a faint kiss on her temple covered by a chunk of hair.
“I promise to be braver,” Momo adds, her voice soft yet full, “Because I like you a lot.”
And that was enough.
Sana stared at her for a long moment, searching her face, searching for the cracks where hesitation still lived. But this time, she saw something steadier in Momo’s eyes. Something real. She exhaled, closing her eyes for a brief second before opening them again.
"Okay.” Sana whispered, and Momo's fingers curled around hers as she took it in. Feeling more content with the way their bodies met in such a fragile way, “I like you a lot too.”
And they held onto those words, onto each other's touch, onto the slow steps of trust between them.
Because now, it was more than enough.
Notes:
I know a promised an update yesterday, but sorry I wasn't able to post :') My girlfriend asked me to study her for her law subject, so there's that...
The next sure update will be on Friday! I'll try to slip in another one before, but no promises!
Thank you so much for all the love from the last chapter, now it's time for SaMo to love each other properly this time.
Happy reading! See you in the next. :)
Chapter 22: XXII. Where The Lines Overlap
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
Too much distance, to measure it out loud.
Tracing patterns across a personal map,
And making pictures where the lines overlap.
The meeting room was buzzing with conversations as the band and the Forge team—which was technically only Momo and Mina, discussed the possible schedules for the upcoming tour expansion. Sana had been keeping her focus on the discussion—or at least trying to. She was usually in professional mode when it comes to things with the band, but every now and then, her eyes landed toward Momo, seated a few chairs down.
Momo, ever the professional, kept her expression neutral. But Sana caught the way her fingers tapped lightly on the table, the way her gaze lingered on Sana just a second too long before looking away. Momo was always one to have few words, but whenever she spoke, she sounded smarter than anyone Sana has ever known. She had a way with her words, and Sana couldn't help but marvel at how perfect she is at this. She adores it—Momo being a nerd that is.
They hadn’t had much time in the last few days since that night at Momo’s apartment. Just the texts and occasional calls that kept them both up until four in the morning.
And right now, as the meeting stretched on, Sana found herself itching to be alone with her.
When the meeting finally broke for a pause, the band filtering out for a breather, Sana acted on impulse. She caught Momo’s wrist just as she passed by the hallway, pulling her into an empty area.
Momo didn’t even protest, she just let herself be tugged along until they were tucked out of sight.
“Are you kidnapping me?” She raised an eyebrow at Sana, arms folding across her chest in feigned skepticism. Sana grinned, stepping closer until they were nearly chest to chest.
“You looked like you needed saving.”
“From what exactly?” Momo tilted her head slightly.
“You work too much. And you're trying hard to pretend you don't think about me.” Momo rolled her eyes in a scoffed out laugh.
“You’re so full of yourself.”
Sana chuckled, her fingers briefly skimming down Momo’s wrist before she let her go.
“I missed you.” Sana says to which Momo inhales softly at. Then, to Sana’s surprise, she reached out, straightening the collar of Sana’s jacket—an excuse to touch her, Sana was sure.
“I missed you too.” Momo's tone was more downcast now, but they kept it from being too sappy, “You’ve been working hard.”
“It’s been busy.” Sana was equally low with her breaths. Momo's gaze was telling, and seeing it to life was better than just having her through the phone screen. A million times better.
Then, after a brief silence,
“Dinner?”
Sana blinked. Quite unheard of before she slowly pieced together Momo's words—a smile slowly tugging at her lip. Though she couldn't smile, not just yet.
“What?” As Sana asked, Momo beat her to it—her lips quirking in a grin.
“You. Me. Dinner. This weekend. I’m asking.”
Sana stared at her, momentarily stunned before a slow, warm smile spread across her face, “You’re asking me out?”
“Just thought we could spend time properly.” Momo shrugged, playing it off like it was nothing. Her eyes once again darted towards the floor, an expression she knew too well of. Sana’s heart swelled at that. She wasn’t sure if she wanted to tease her or kiss her, but she settled for softly grabbing Momo's hands in hers, and squeezing it once, afraid to let it go.
“You’re really cute when you pretend this isn’t a date.” Sana giggles at her, causing Momo to roll her eyes again.
“Just say yes before I change my mind.”
Sana laughed, finally letting their hands go, and she feels herself cold already.
“Yes, Momo. Of course yes.” Momo chuckled through small exhales, and it's silly—it looked like she just asked Sana to be her girlfriend, but it was something as simple as a dinner that even she couldn't hide it anymore. Sana adores it too much that her chest ached, longing to keep it in memory how Momo's nose scrunched as she laughed.
“Let's get back?” Sana nods, but if she was honest, she wanted just a minute more with her. But she can't keep work Momo away from doing her job—her serious and smart mode wasn't a salable sight either. Sana loves it.
Momo turned first, walking away with a subtle shy stance that Sana had always found silly. She believes that Momo thinks she's hiding it well, but her adorable awkwardness was never maskable really—and it’s something that grounds Sana into thinking how Momo was still Momo, her Momo, even if a lot has changed through the course of the years.
But just before she disappeared around the corner, she glanced back. Just for a second, just enough for Sana to catch it.
A second later, she was giggling alone in the corner like a stupid teenager.
Sana was scrambling for clothes that didn't scream rockstar or undercover spy—there wasn't anything in between her usual wardrobe and a few dresses that were too gala-level formal. It's been stressing her out for the past hours, which was the longest time she had ever prepared for anything. Sana took an hour to pick a bag for god's sake, and she didn't even have that many.
But now, she had to really hurry. Less than an hour more and it'll be six in the evening—the time Momo will pick her up.
Sana finally found a dress, but the moment she held it up, she groaned. It was wrinkled as hell. With no time to spare, she dug out the iron, cursing under her breath as she smoothed out the fabric, her foot tapping impatiently from the running time. She might've burned herself a couple of times, dropped her earring down the sink drain, and wasted five minutes debating whether or not she should wear heels. Her perfume bottle also slipped from hand, sending a cloud of violent fragrance straight into her face, making her cough.
By the time she finally got herself together, her phone buzzed with a message from Momo.
I'm here.
Sana took a deep breath, shook out her hands, and headed out. She was rubbing her hands along the subtle curls of her hair—of course, she just had to style it, making sure that it looks natural or she'd fear overdoing it. The elevator finally reaches the ground floor, and there were a few stares at her from the lobby, but the only thing making her heart pound was seeing her date in just a few more steps,
And so, Sana steps out the building and quickly spots the very familiar Subaru, still looking new despite its age, parked just in front of the entrance. And not only that,
Because there was Momo.
Sana promised herself to tease her or make a light, snarking remark to make it less awkward for herself, but she made the mistake of actually taking in how Momo looked.
She wore something just as simple as a black strappy dress—but the way its noodle straps wrapped around her exposed shoulders and arms and a bit low on her chest was too much that she could just die. The warm city lights behind her only added to the way she almost glowed. Sana immediately believes Momo was nature's gift to humankind as an apology for cockroaches.
“Hi.” Sana greets her with a small voice as she approaches. Although, after Sana felt her lips hurting too much from the wide smile she gave, she realizes how Momo just stood there, completely silent, eyes on her body that she was almost cross-eyed. Not a single word. And no, not even a hi.
Are you serious? No reaction? No “wow, Sana, you look amazing”? Just a damn stare? Did she really wear the wrong pairs of clothing after hours of going back and forth her closet?
A little tug in her head wanted to call Momo a jerk for funsies, but then the girl was practically a rock now. A solid void.
Momo slowly walked, and led Sana to the car—still with the same expression, and eyes not meeting hers—but only towards her... body. She opens the door for Sana like some kind of chivalrous gentleman. It was endearing, really, but even when Momo already started driving, she still wasn't saying a damn word.
Sana watched Momo handle the steering wheel with her mouth open. It causes her to furrow her brows. It was like Momo saw a ghost before arriving and her face muscles got too traumatized to move. It took less than two minutes for Sana to get impatient.
“Did your tongue fall out or something?” Sana muttered, crossing her arms, “You’ve been quiet as hell. Do you not like me?”
“I, no, it's- you know- just-” Sana huffed, shifting in her seat. Days without them seeing together, and she doesn't even get a proper word. Momo was more noisy in their calls.
“Hm?” Sana hums, looking away from her, shifting her focus on the road as she deems it hopeless.
“You're just... so beautiful.” Sana shoots back a glance at her, and now, Momo was biting the back of her middle finger in a heedless smile, her gaze straight on the road, “This is fucking amazing.”
Sana had to hit her arm.
Soon, they arrived at the restaurant Momo reserved for them—Sana was unexpectant of anything, because anywhere with Momo would’ve been fine. But what greet them is a sleek, upscale spot perched high above the city. They had to use the elevator, and it was a long ride up to the top. When they arrived, a breathtaking view stretched before them—the city skyline glittering under the early evening sky, warm lights reflecting off the glass windows. The restaurant wasn’t crowded, making the atmosphere feel even more intimate.
A waiter led them to their table, and Momo was even courteous enough to hold a seat for Sana. As they settled into their seats, Sana suddenly felt shy. The whole setting, the fact that this was a date—it all made her more nervous than she had anticipated.
And then she caught Momo sneaking glances at her.
It was ridiculous—Momo, looking like a literal dream in her dress, was shy. There was something so charmingly awkward about it, the way she’d glance at Sana, then quickly look away, like she was caught doing something embarrassing. Sana leaned forward slightly, resting her chin on her palm.
“You keep looking at me.”
“No I’m not.” Momo cleared her throat and looked away again. Sana giggled as she flipped open the menu, her eyes scanning the options, though she wasn’t really reading. The air between them was still filled with ridiculous shyness, the kind that made Sana want to laugh and bury her face in her hands.
Momo, on the other hand, kept her eyes trained on the menu, one elbow on the table, fingers resting against her temple like she was deep in thought.
“You’re acting like we’re on a first date.” Sana muttered, a slow grin forming. Momo didn’t look up.
“We are on a first date.”
“So you admit it's a date now?” Momo snapped her menu shut and gave Sana a pointed look. Sana snorted, leaning her elbow on the table, “You're being a cutie.”
Momo quickly flipped her menu open again as if to block Sana from view. Sana hummed in amusement, watching her. The slight stiffness in Momo’s shoulders, the way she was obviously focusing too hard on the menu—yeah, she was flustered. And Sana liked it.
But even through the teasing, something about this moment started to shift, growing easier. Momo’s lips twitched faintly, like she was holding back something some kind of amusement. Their conversation softened into more familiar murmurs.
“This menu’s weird,” Sana sighs, “They have three different sections for pasta.”
“Maybe they’re judging you based on what you order.” Sana scoffed.
“I’ll order the most expensive one just to spite them.” Sana grinned, and Momo shot her a flat look, “Oh. I wasn't paying, was I?”
“Do you want to?” She quipped, and they relaxed into some giggles together. Momo told her before that the dinner was on her, and Sana was not one to disagree.
The rest of the night went along well. The absurd shyness was still there when they first got their food, but it sizzled down until their conversations felt more natural. Something that felt like them. Momo would say something about how to stop a banana from ripening too fast, and Sana was listening too intently that she was mindlessly kicking Momo's leg. They'd also hum while tasting the new food that would arrive, and feed a bite to each other like cheesy couples do. It's also just now that Sana realized Momo was amazing at taking pictures, since she never uses her phone when they're together.
After dinner at the restaurant, Momo was driving to some place she didn't bother to say where. Sana lets her, sitting at the passenger seat with her bare feet lifted up, and Momo's coat over her like a blanket. Minutes in and a hand was sitting idly on her thigh, which Sana decides to slap and tell her “both hands on the wheel”, Momo pouts.
They stopped by a gas station’s convenience store for a dessert haul, because Momo was craving ice cream. They came out with snacks in hand and an improvised strawberry milkshake float that they assembled on the dim-lit seats outside the store. They made a whole mess. Momo was pouring out strawberry milk on her ice cream from the straw hole when it oozed out towards her dress, Sana gasped, but a second later and the cake bar she was opening exploded all over them before it even reached the ice cream cup.
They drove to a nearby park after curling their stomachs from laughter, and Momo was ready with sandals for them to change into. They found a children's playground and settled on the slightly rusted swings. Momo takes out her phone, asking Sana to pose. She obeys with the drink in hand, posing like a product endorser which caused Momo to giggle, acting like a professional photographer herself.
With the dying down antics, Momo also walks to sit next to her. Both of them were mindlessly swinging with their feet stuck to the ground.
Sana couldn't help but steal glances at Momo. There were enough park lights for them to see each other, but it was mostly the moonlight pouring itself faintly on her skin, with a light gleam coming from the top highlights of her face. Sana mused at the strands of hair from her thin bangs that looked like it was already piercing Momo's eyes from the length, but it made her face even more inviting. Heck, even her brows had something in it that made her more captivating.
“You're good at planning dates.” Sana teases, and Momo's face immediately warps. “What? Still think this isn't a date?”
“This is a date.” Sana whistled teasingly, and she cracked into laughter when Momo's face alone was begging her to stop. She still teases her, though, for the sake of the pouty reaction and all. It would happen in between their conversations—when Sana notices Momo looking at her for too long, or when she says something stupid that makes Momo blush. The little things here and there, under old swings and the gleam of the night, until their sandals caught too much dirt from the kicking motions. It was until Sana had to use the restroom that Momo urged them to call it a night. Though in the longing feelings in her chest deemed it against her will, Sana didn't want to say anything, a tiny fear of getting called out for her obsession—but who could blame her when they were sitting feet apart from the swings and all she yearned for was a single brush of their hands?
By grace though, in the car, it happened too often, and Sana was gushing, feeling crickets jumping and nibbling her stomach. She hopes Momo doesn't catch the way she'd squeeze her fingers tighter, or how she tries to chase her hand whenever she had to withdraw it and use the handbrake. It made her shy, how the slightest grazes of Momo's fingers made her dizzy and craving for more.
It was a battle of her desires for Momo's light touches until they reached her apartment. The car was still, the hum of the engine long gone, but neither of them made a move to leave. The night wrapped around them, the only light coming from the dim glow of the dashboard and the occasional flicker of cars passing by.
Sana’s fingers toyed with the hem of her dress, twisting the fabric absentmindedly. Momo sat beside her, one hand draped over the steering wheel, the other resting on the gear shift, like she was suddenly resisting the urge to reach for Sana.
"I thought you needed to pee already?” Momo murmured.
“Yeah.”
“Oh, okay. We should go, then.”
"We should." Sana glanced at her, tilting her head against the seat.
Neither of them moved.
Sana sighed, pressing her lips together before shifting slightly, just enough that their knuckles brushed. Momo tensed—so subtly it would’ve been unnoticeable if Sana weren’t hyper-aware of her every movement.
"You’re silly." Sana muttered, a quiet laugh escaping her. "It’s like this is your first date with anyone."
“It’s different, you're not just anyone.” It was a low whisper, but Sana catches it, turning her head fully now to look at Momo. She's still as beautiful as the first time she saw her tonight—or really since she's first saw her moonlit in the comfort of the dark bar alley. Momo had always been painfully captivating, and tonight is just another way for Sana to carve the details of Momo in her mind.
Sana didn't want to go, but she figured asking Momo to spend the night would cut all their efforts to take it slow. Because once they're alone, Sana knows she won't be able to resist.
“Good night, Momo.” Sana breaths out, almost absent in the air, like she didn't really wanna say it, “Thank you for tonight.”
Momo finally looked at her, and it lingered for a beat too long, until she nodded.
“Good night, Sana.”
Sana beams at her one last time, unlatching the door with hidden hesitation. She was about to put one foot out—when Momo's hand suddenly wraps around hers and closes the door once again—her upper body was hovering over Sana, and before the woman could even think Momo pecks a kiss just on the corner of her lip. Sana's eyes were still closed when Momo slowly repelled, but her body still close to Sana that she could feel breaths.
“You’re perfect.” Momo whispers, and when Sana opens her eyes, she's met by the most beautiful tight-lipped smile. Momo exhaled slowly, "You have no idea how much I wanted to kiss you the whole night.”
“You just did.”
“The real one.”
“Then why don't you?” She whispers, her eyelids feeling heavy, but she didn't want to break away from Momo's gaze.
"Because if I do, I won’t want to stop.” Momo chuckles, “I'm trying to be good.”
Sana breathes out a small laugh. Though she grabs Momo's face lightly with her palm, and places the same kiss Momo gave her—right on the side of her lip. The moment ended too soon that Sana had to rest their foreheads together, her eyes painting Momo in a golden hue that she could see sparks flying before her. They share a smile, and a gaze so magnetic that it was impossible to break.
“Don’t think about me too much, yeah?” Sana whispers under her breath.
“You wouldn't know anyway.” Momo's words causes Sana to shake her head in a giggle.
“Good night, silly. For real this time.”
Finally, Momo shifted away, her hand slipping from Sana's hold as she let out a quiet sigh.
“Good night, baby.”
And Sana blushes for the hundredth time that night.
The roads blurred past the car window, city lights flashing against the glass. Momo tapped her fingers against her knee, her other hand gripping the phone in her lap. The last message of Sana had been five in the morning—when she was still asleep. It was reasonable, since they had a show in another city today.
And Momo was going. Though she hadn't told Sana. It was mostly due to work, and that they had scheduled a visit for their second to the last show—the one where they'd be announcing the additional dates.
As the car slowed down when they neared the venue, Mina stretched her arms out, yawning, "Think she’s gonna freak when she sees you?” Momo gave her a look. She already made it obvious enough that she was nervous about this.
“She’s used to seeing me now.” And it's true, Momo has been seeing her a lot for the past two weeks. Though she's getting more used to it, in all honesty, it still felt surreal. Momo had to fight herself to not walk Sana to her apartment door every time because she knew she'd want to stay the night with her. She was the one who wanted to take things slow, but now it's just torturing her.
“Yeah, but showing up unannounced? She’s gonna be all shy about it.” Momo rolled her eyes, yet it twisted a few nerves. Mina just smirked at her silence.
“What’s the worst that could happen?”
Yeah, there's probably nothing wrong with it, right?
Wrong. The first thing that hit Momo when they got out was the noise. Not the usual pre-show buzz, but something frantic. The sharp voices of crew members cutting through the air, the metallic clatter of equipment being shuffled around fast—too fast. A technician rushed past her, face pale and eyes wide.
“We’re running out of time!”
“I told you, the backup system isn’t connecting!”
Momo turned to see a group of techs clustered around a control board, their screens flashing red warnings. Further down, someone was yelling into an earpiece, while another was running cables across the floor like their life depended on it.
It was pure chaos.
Momo knew this from countless times that she's been in the scene. She knew if there was a problem—which was exactly what's happening now. She couldn't help but prop a hand on Mina's shoulder.
She scanned the backstage, and then—there she was. Sana.
Standing in the middle of it all, her arms crossed tightly over her chest, her brows knitted together. Even from a distance, Momo could see the tension in her shoulders, the way she was pressing her lips together in frustration. Next to her, Jihyo was speaking to a man in a production shirt, they were gesturing toward the ceiling rigging with a deep frown. Sana’s fingers were tapping against her forearm, a telltale sign of irritation she was failing to hide now.
And then, the production staff scurried from their place—unluckily for Momo, he turned his gaze—straight. at. her.
“Miss Hirai!” The man was calling over her, exhaling in relief. But Momo's steps were slow and heavy, a rush of veins going over her as she saw Sana and Jihyo’s crossed expressions, “We need a decision on the sound rigging. There’s a compliance issue, the third-party contractors aren’t moving without the authorization. Did we give it to them?”
Momo’s stomach dropped.
“U-Uh, yeah…”
Sana turned, her eyes locking onto Momo’s, and for the first time since she arrived, the world stopped—everything blurred at the edges. The voices faded into a hum.
But then Jihyo exhales sharply.
“Momo, we need to know if you gave them the signed soundboard adjustments. The contractors won’t make a move until someone from your end confirms it. We're on in just ten minutes.”
Momo felt Mina nudge her. She swallowed hard. Sana was staring at her, waiting, and yet, Momo couldn't help but notice how mesmerizing her stage-ready look was. Her clothes fit perfectly into her frame, the lines and curves of her body fading seamlessly into each other,
“Momo.”
Sana calls.
And she flinched.
“Why are you flinching?” Mina asks, sighing straight through her nose.
“I-” Momo cleared her throat, but didn't have the chance to defend her case as Mina starts talking about the technicalities of it. They call on the head tech from earlier, who then started explaining something about yada, yada, yada—Momo barely heard a word. She nodded along, pretending to understand, but her eyes can't help scanning Sana, the contours of her stomach showing from the very-much-transparent dress shirt she had on, and it was too big that it even fell off on one shoulder, unveiling a top that barely covered anything.
“Are you just saying yes?” Sana turns to her, sighing as she was very obviously not amused right now. But Momo had to curse herself internally when she found her expression… attractive.
“No, not at all.” She had no idea what the fuck they were talking about.
“You sure?”
Momo gulps, she wanted to disappear.
“Yes ma'am.” Mina couldn't help but choke a suppressed laugh, and even Jihyo who looked like she was about to punch random people in the gut, changed her expression into something more confused.
Sana’s squinted, and annoyed eyes studied her for a moment longer before turning back to the technician, and Momo got to exhale when they finally flee the scene.
“Oh god, get a hold of yourself.” Mina huffs and walks along.
The crisis was averted. The show went on.
Momo stayed near the side of the stage, her fingers curled around her wrist as she watched the band under the lights. She had seen Sana perform countless of times before, but this was different. Momo remembered the way they used to perform in tiny bars, the amplifiers barely working that it was hard to set up, the audiences half-distracted. She remembered the way Sana was frustrated about these things but it never showed explicitly—and Momo thinks about it—that Sana probably always thought she didn't have the right to complain about anything just because she didn't have a name for herself yet. So seeing Sana get visibly annoyed by the mishaps meant differently to Momo.
Because now, the whole world was watching her, and Sana always made sure to show the best.
Sana moved like she belonged there, like the stage was an extension of herself. The way she moved around with grace with just her mic, the way other vocalists would be awkward without a guitar but she's not, the way the crowd sang along to every word she said—it was mesmerizing.
Momo had always admired Sana’s talent. But now, standing here, watching her take command of something larger than life, she felt something deeper than admiration.
She was proud.
This was the Sana she had always believed in. The Sana who wasn't afraid to be vulnerable anymore. The Sana who would never put her dreams down no matter how tiring it is.
The song faded into its final notes, and the roar of the crowd swallowed the silence.
And then, suddenly, in the middle of the post-concert chaos, Sana was beside her. She had just slipped away from the stage, the remnants of adrenaline still in her eyes. Without hesitation, she reached for Momo, hooking an arm around her waist, pulling her into a tight embrace in the dimly lit side corridor of the venue. The distant echo of the crowd’s final cheers still lingered in the air, but here, it was just them. Momo’s breath caught, feeling Sana’s warm and solid grip. Her sweat smelled good, and Momo knew she was real.
“You stayed.” Sana whispered shakily, breathing heavily from the stage high as she buried herself further into the hug. Momo reciprocates it, holding her even tighter.
“Of course.”
Sana let go, and gave her a huge grin.
“Are you not out of it anymore?” Sana chuckles, and Momo laughs along, shaking her head in disbelief, “Sorry for being mad, I got real pressured."
“You were incredible.” Momo reached into her back pocket for a handkerchief she's been saving for the post-performance. She quickly wipes away the dews of sweat on Sana's temple and forehead.
"I saw you out there." Sana says.
“Don’t you have bad eyesight?"
"I knew where to find you." She smiled, and there was something in her eyes—an intensity that made Momo’s stomach turn weightless, "Don’t ever stop looking at me like that, okay?"
Momo’s breath caught. A thousand responses ran through her head—a snicker, a tease, a quip—though she didn’t say anything. Instead, she just nodded. Sana's soft curve up her lip didn't falter, and Momo caught on the right time to place a kiss on her forehead.
And Momo knew, in that moment, that she never wanted Sana to leave her sight ever again.
Momo drove with one hand on the wheel, the other resting on the gear shift. Sana sat beside her, body turned slightly towards Momo, as if she wasn’t quite ready to let the night end yet.
They weren’t speaking much, but the silence between them wasn't anything bad nor uncomfortable. The streetlights washed over their skin in passing waves, Momo's fingers tracing absentminded patterns against her own knee. She steals a glance at Sana.
"What?”
Momo shook her head, eyes flicking back to the road.
"Nothing."
"Liar.” Sana hummed, and Momo felt a warmth creep up her neck, but she didn’t reply. Though she felt fingers brush against her forearm, and it was more than enough to make her pulse stutter.
Sana had reached farther, her fingertips skimming towards Momo's neck, running along her jaw. Momo inhaled sharply. Sana's thumb slid sideways, dragging her nail on her lips that Momo didn't even know was that dry.
Her thumb pauses right at the center, where her lips were slightly parted open. Sana drags her thumb down, nudging it to show her bottom teeth. Momo was focusing too much on the road that she almost missed Sana's sudden burning stare right at her—but, no, she could feel it. Momo exhales down to the tip of Sana's nails, glancing at her when the traffic lights hit red—and Momo catches Sana darting eyes to her lips—her gaze that spoke volumes of raging prurience—a desire such present that sent chills down her spine and churned a heat down her stomach.
Between the haze of her thoughts, Momo absentmindedly dips her tongue down, tasting the salty skin, and leaving a wet patch on it. Sana parts her lips at the action, inhaling sharply before slowly pushing her thumb forward to her mouth, with Momo's wet muscle attacking it by an extra inch.
The rest of the fingers were still caressing her cheek—as Momo was practically sucking and kissing Sana's thumb with their sharp gaze locking onto each other. Sana stuck her tongue out to wet her lips, and Momo's thighs jolted. She was getting dizzier, feeling a certain discomfort between her hips. Sana pulls out her thumb and it pops a sound,
"Eyes on the road, Momo." Sana murmured, chuckling lowly, “The lights are almost green.”
Momo’s fingers twitched against the wheel. God, she was going to lose her mind.
When they finally pulled up to Sana’s place, neither of them moved at first. The air in the car felt heavier now—like their clothes were wrapping them ten times over. Momo sighed, tilting her head against the headrest.
"You gonna walk me to my door today?" Sana breaks the silence, laughing to make it sound like a joke. But Momo knew it meant more.
"I hate letting you go." Momo sighs, and Sana reaches her hand out to her cheek once again, feeling the touch burn.
"Then don’t." Sana whispers. Momo turned to look at her, to really look at her, and something passed between them—thick, electric, undeniable.
“Fuck.” Momo breathes out, her gaze never leaving Sana's plump lips. The latter hums, and it sounded too much like the song of a mermaid pulling her in to drown.
Drown in Sana's touches, drown in the way her body would move under her, on her, all over her—
“Time’s up.” But then Sana, being Sana, just leaned over and pressed the lightest kiss to Momo’s cheek before pushing the door open, “Good night, baby. Thank you for dropping by.”
Momo had her mouth left open, the last of Sana smirking at her while slipping out of the car. She sat there, exhaling like she’d been holding her breath the whole time—well, she might've. Momo was used to having Sana head home every night like that, so why was today any different? She knew she had to get a hold of herself before she loses control of things.
She didn’t even realize she was gripping the steering wheel so tightly until her phone buzzed.
Momo blinked. She rushed to grab it, knowing Sana would most likely say something so menacing that'll keep her up all night. She knew what the girl wanted—to have her stay the night, within arm's reach. And Momo would be lying if she said she didn't want that too.
Not yet, though.
She has her phone in hand, and glances down at the screen.
Wait,
Dad?
Momo's brows furrowed. Her father never texted this late unless something was up. And even a missed call? Her stomach started to curl. This wasn't something normal or just out of the blue.
Call me when you’re free.
Momo’s breath slowed. A weird feeling curled in her chest, something off, something that set every nerve in her body on edge.
She tapped the call button.
Her father picked up on the second ring.
“Momo.”
"What’s going on? Are you okay?"
A pause. Then—
"Yes, everything's fine. Your mother and I just need you on a business trip. You know how your promotion is underway, so we need you to attend the global forums.”
“Oh, yeah, okay.” Momo got to breathe in relief. “When do I leave and where? Do I have to sleep in?”
“Of course you would, you won't want to take the plane every day for the next four months.”
Her dad chuckled on the line—wait,
“What?”
“You'll be moving around Europe, and probably in Southeast of Asia too. That's roughly four months, or longer.”
Momo’s heart stopped.
Her fingers tightened around the phone, knuckles going white. Momo had her mouth opening then closing, nothing but heavy, deafening exhales escaping her.
“Four… months?”
Another pause. Then the words that made her entire body go cold.
"Yes. You leave in a week.”
The world outside the car felt suddenly too quiet, too still, like everything had just snapped into slow motion. Her fingers trembled slightly as she pulled the phone away from her ear. She could still hear her father speaking, something about work, the arrangements—but none of it registered.
Four. damn. months.
Four months away from Sana.
“Dad- wait- how about my position now? I can't… I can't leave my post. A week is too fast.”
Momo exhaled shakily, gripping the steering wheel like it was the only thing anchoring her to the moment.
“I am sorry for the late notice, but I already talked with Soonyoung about it, and I'll have your assistant work with him for a while.”
“But…” Momo could feel her eyes uncomfortably swell. She ran out of things to say. She wanted to disagree, to ask for more than a week, to ask for leas than four months, but she just shuddered under short breaths,
“No, Momo, it's final.” Her father cuts in, as if he had been reading her thoughts. Momo was only able to mutter an ‘okay’ before slowly dropping her phone to her lap, not caring about ending the call or if her father even said anything more.
Momo blinked at the windshield, her thoughts spiraling so fast that they left her mind blank. The streetlights blurred into streaks, the night outside stretching endlessly before her.
She was leaving.
For four months.
A week from now.
Her breathing grew shallow, fingers curled on her lap, but she didn’t know what to do with them. The gravity of it was settling in, heavier and heavier by the second.
Then, a buzz.
Momo didn't even flinch at the sudden vibration against her palm, she went on autopilot—slowly lifting her phone, her pulse sluggish and vision unfocused.
Are you home?
Momo stared at the text from Sana. Her fingers hovered over the screen as she swallowed. Her throat was dry, her stomach a sinking pit.
Another buzz.
Call me when you can.
Don't reply if you're on the road.
She didn’t even know if she had it in her to type back. Not yet. Not now.
I miss you already
Oh, god.
How would she even tell Sana?
Notes:
The title is just the spoiler for the end of this chapter, LOL.
An update as promised! But AO3 was under maintenance the whole day so I'm sorry it's a bit late. Also, I have the final chapter numbers now. We're down to the last few, but it's not goodbye just yet. Hopefully not for SaMo too...
See you on the next! I'll post by the end of the weekend or maybe slip in another chapter tomorrow. Thank you everyone for the kudos, comments, and silent reads!
Happy reading. :)
Chapter 23: XXIII. Crave
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
I crave, crave to do it again, all again.
Crave, crave, to do it again,
Just for a second it all felt simple
I'm already missing it.
So I crave, crave to do it again, all again.
Rehearsals had gone well—better than usual, actually. Everyone was more relaxed than the past months, lingering in the studio instead of rushing to pack up and get good rest. The ‘supposed’ last leg of their tour was approaching—before their extended dates and all. But with the album they've been working on being out there already, they have more air to breathe.
Jeongyeon was half-draped over a couch, lazily plucking her guitar despite them being done for the day. Yeji sat cross-legged on the floor, scrolling through something on her phone. Chaeyoung had stolen Tzuyu's water bottle and was currently drinking from it like she owned the damn thing. The chatters were casual, and Sana indulged in the sight.
“You know that’s mine, right?” Tzuyu raises a brow.
“Yeah, it tastes like your saliva.” Chaeyoung's words had them shooting their heads towards the two.
Jeongyeon stands up, “No. fucking. way-”
“Don't even start.” Tzuyu shushes their growing gasps with an annoyed groan, “That doesn't mean anything.”
Sana stifled a laugh, Chaeyoung and Tzuyu may have had a certain... chemistry, going on these days that Jeongyeon brought up when the two were away, and the rest of the band ended up betting about it. They were starting to lose hope about getting anything from them, so it was amusing to watch it all unfold now.
“Yeah? Figures, ‘cause I heard you two in the janitor room a month ago.” Sana and Jeongyeon gasp at Yeji's words—it sounded too casual for their own good.
“So that's why you were so confident in betting on the Go side!” Sana points at Yeji, but immediately gets elbowed by Jeongyeon sideways. Sana covers her mouth and a half-gasp escapes her.
“Betting on what?!” Chaeyoung stood, pointing a finger at them.
“It's nothing!” Jeongyeon chuckles awkwardly.
“You little shits did a bet on us, huh?” Chaeyoung scoffs,
“Doesn’t matter. It was just a one time thing.” The reactions were loud from the next words she spewed out, and Tzuyu was rolling her eyes already.
“Sana, tell Jihyo you should both pay up.”
Sana was over the clouds laughing about it later when Momo picked her up. They were now driving slow, mostly because Momo was taking every scenic route possible. Sana didn’t mind. She liked car rides with her the best. They had their own rhythm to them, the background noise of the radio mixed with the occasional banter, the absentminded touches—Momo’s hand on Sana’s thigh, Sana’s fingers tracing patterns on Momo’s wrist at a red light.
It was nice.
Though maybe Momo had been a little quieter than usual. Sana noticed how her smile was still there, but it was softer. Her fingers still grazed Sana’s knuckles, but they lingered just a little too long—like she was deep in thought.
“You okay?” Sana turned her head slightly, studying her. Momo blinked, then glanced over with a small, sheepish laugh.
“Oh- what? Yeah. Why?”
“You tell me, Momo."
Momo sighs. Sana's brows furrow upon noticing her knuckles stretch from her grip on the wheel, just half a second before it was gone.
“Just… work stuff.”
“Work stuff?” Sana replied, unimpressed.
“Yeah, work stuff. Some… thing, at work.”
Sana narrowed her eyes, but before she could say anything, Momo reached over at the next stoplight and squeezed her hand. It was warm, and she immediately forgot how to speak.
“I’m good, Sana,” Momo murmured. “Really.”
Sana exhaled, feeling the tension in her chest loosen just a fraction. “Okay.”
But for all she knew, Momo was a bad liar.
The light turned green, and Momo didn’t let go of her hand immediately. By the time they reached the apartment, Sana had mostly let it go. Maybe Momo was just tired. Maybe she was just in her head about some meeting or another. And she knew Momo would tell her once she's ready to let it off her shoulders.
Still, Sana noticed the way Momo hesitated a little too long after she parked, fingers gripping the wheel before releasing it slowly.
“Hey,” Sana calls, and Momo blinked.
“Hm?”
“You sure you’re good?”
Momo turned to her, lips parting—then closing. Then, instead of answering, she leaned in and kissed Sana’s cheek softly, lingering just long enough for Sana to feel the heat of it spread through her. Momo repelled and smiled at her—genuine and warm, yet a little too sweet.
Sana blinked, breath catching in her throat.
“Let’s go?” Momo said, squeezing Sana’s fingers once before pulling away.
Sana felt like she had just been played into some voodoo shit. She was baffled by how flustered Momo makes her.
But her brain short-circuited enough that she just registered what the girl said,
“Go where?”
“Inside.” Momo grins, sweeping her things away, grabbing a few, taking out her keys—and Sana pauses for a while before it registers,
“You're staying the night?”
“Am I uninvited?” Momo chuckles, and Sana hits her lightly on the stomach.
“Why? Did you do something bad?”
“Not really.”
“Not really? You know I'll kill you if you did, right? Is it another woman?”
“No.” Momo snorts out a laugh, “Not something I did, but not something you'll like.” Sana nudges her head to the side, confused and stricken—her pulse catching up into a marathon. But before she could say anything, Momo squeezes her hand, “Don’t worry, baby. Come on, let's head inside.”
“Okay.” The air outside the car was crisp—cool against Sana’s skin as she stepped out, but it wasn’t enough to clear her head. Not with the way Momo lingered by the driver's side, stretching slightly before shutting the door.
She still wasn’t sure what Momo's gonna tell her. It gnawed at her, a quiet pulse in the back of her mind, but Momo—Momo had been warm. Constant. Her hand had found Sana’s waist when she walked next to her in the parking lot—like it belonged there, and Sana let herself fall into it, like she was always trained to.
They walked toward the building together, Momo’s fingers brushing against the small of her back. An invitation. Sana let their bodies knock together, the faintest tether of contact, and it made Momo exhale something soft before fully pressing her palm to the small of Sana’s back.
It wasn’t anything new. Momo had always been touchy even if the girl hates to admit it, but tonight, it felt like something different.
The elevator ride was quiet, save for the soft hum of the car pulling them upward. Sana pressed the button for her floor, stepping back, when Momo suddenly reached over, slipping her hand into Sana’s without hesitation.
Sana hitched a breath, heartbeat slow and steady, yet pressing against her ribs all the same. She glanced down at their joined hands, thumb grazing over Momo’s knuckles. Momo wasn’t even looking at her—just standing beside her, facing the elevator doors like nothing was out of the ordinary. And it really was out of the ordinary, but somehow Sana feels like it's the first time.
And Momo's hold was firm—Not possessive. Not insistent—just there.
The elevator dinged, and Sana barely processed stepping out, Momo falling into stride beside her, hands slipping apart, and it left a ghost of warmth against Sana’s palm, like she still had the outline of Momo’s touch printed on her skin.
She fumbled slightly with her keys, shaking herself back into focus. She twisted the lock open, and the moment they stepped inside, Sana’s first thought was, Oh,
It wasn’t messy per se, but it was filled with too much things she forgot to take care of. Like a few sling bags sprawled on the couch, and some takeout containers still on the counter that she forgot to throw away. Sana immediately but subtly walked faster towards the mess, picking up all the things in the wrong places.
Momo stepped in behind her, taking in the space, and Sana felt a strange flutter in her stomach. Momo wasn’t saying anything. Just scanning the place, taking it all in, hands in the pockets of her pants like she was judging. Sana cleared her throat, shoving her keys onto the table.
“You want something to eat? Or drink?”
“Water’s fine.” A soft smile tugged at her lips when she answered, and Sana had to lag, moving towards the kitchen.
“You have a nice place.” Momo murmured.
Sana barely had time to register the words before Momo was there…
Near.
Close enough that Sana caught the scent of her—light, clean, familiar. The garden-induced scent of her newly washed clothes that lasted even until nighttime, and Sana’s breath hitched as she barely realized she was being backed against the counter until the edge pressed into her back.
Momo was enveloping her, gaze steady and unwavering as everything blurred past her. She was giving Sana that kind of look,
Didn’t ask, didn’t hesitate.
Sana swallowed, as Momo came in closer,
“Momo-”
And then—warmth.
Momo pressed in, closing the last bit of distance as she wrapped her arms around Sana’s waist. Her chin resting on her shoulder in a full-bodied embrace, like Momo wasn’t just hugging her, but pouring herself into the space between them.
Sana felt it—all of it. The whole weight of Momo’s body, the way her breath came out in the softest exhale that tickled her neck. Sana hesitated for half a second before giving in, melting into her, arms winding around Momo’s back as her fingers curled into the fabric of her clothes.
Silence.
A quiet hum in the air, like the world had faded into just this.
Just them.
Sana swallowed, the words slipping out before she could stop them.
“What were you going to tell me?”
Momo repelled from the embrace, but her palms didn't leave Sana's waist. She felt a shift, her breath ghosting against Sana’s face from the closeness, her hands rubbing slightly towards Sana’s spine.
“I have to leave.”
At first, Sana hadn’t processed it. She had just blinked, before Momo speaks again,
“I'll be out the country for four months for work. And I'll leave in a week.”
Four months?
The words started settling into her chest, heavy, their weight pressing into the spaces between her ribs. Four months?
Momo held her tighter, resting her head once again on Sana's shoulders.
“I don’t want to go.” she murmured, voice small, tired. Sana pressed a hand to the back of Momo’s head, holding her there.
“Hey, it's okay. It's for work.” Sana finally says, though the words brought more weight to her than they should. Momo shifts to look at Sana, her brows furrowing.
“It's four months. I'll be away from you for four whole months. Not seeing you for a day makes me wanna die.” Sana only chuckles, wanting to lighten it up a bit, “I'm serious, Sana.”
“Well, you don't have a choice, do you?”
“I could quit.”
“You won't.”
“I will if you ask me to, Sana.”
“Nope.”
“Let's just run away from everything. Away from the people, up in the mountains, raise a farm, get married, have thirteen kids-” Sana hits her arm, bursting into laughter.
“You're insane, you know that?” Sana says, and Momo comes nearer, resting their foreheads together as she shuts her eyes in a sigh.
“I'll miss you. I wish you could come, but you have superstar duties.” Sana giggles.
“We'll be sure to see each other at the end, okay?” And finally, Momo nods. “Do you want to take a bath? I have a tub. If you're into that.”
“Only if you join me.” Momo whispers with a smirk, and the air brushes Sana's lips. She swallowed. Momo’s voice was so soft, so pleading, that she somehow found herself nodding.
The bathroom was dim, the light from the hallway spilling in through the half-open door. The scent of warm soap lingered in the steam curling along the edges of the mirror.
Sana sat in the tub first, the water lapping at her shoulders, heat sinking into her skin. Momo entered the room and slid in carefully, settling between Sana’s legs without a word, her back resting against the girl's chest.
For a moment, neither of them spoke. The only sound was the water shifting when Momo exhaled, her body softening against Sana’s.
Sana traced her fingertips over Momo’s bare shoulders, the heat of the water making her touch languid. Momo’s skin was damp, smooth beneath her palms. She followed the shape of her collarbone, down to the delicate curve of her shoulder blades. Momo sighed, sinking further into Sana.
“That feels nice.”
Sana smiled softly, pressing her thumbs gently into the muscles along Momo’s neck, kneading slow circles into her shoulders. She could feel the tension there—tightly wound, like a bowstring stretched too far. Momo let out a quiet hum, her head tipping to the side, and Sana swears it's the death of her.
“Am I putting you to sleep?” Sana murmured, amused by the way Momo was practically melting against her.
“Nah.” Momo whispered, “But I wouldn’t mind.”
Sana chuckled, continuing to massage her, her fingers gliding down the length of Momo’s arms before returning to her shoulders. Momo made a quiet sound of contentment. Then, without warning, turned her head and pressed a lazy kiss to Sana’s cheek.
Sana paused, and gulped. Momo didn’t move away, lingering for a second longer before nuzzling her nose into Sana’s jaw. Her lips brushed warm against Sana’s skin and the contact gave the girl goosebumps.
“Thank you.” Momo says.
“Hm? For what?”
Momo hummed, her fingertips skimming along Sana’s thigh beneath the water, and Sana was starting to shift subtly—the contact making her uncomfortably hot. Not to mention they were stuck to each other naked in a bathtub.
“For this.” Momo cuts her thoughts. Sana exhaled, smoothing her shaky hand over Momo’s arm.
“You don’t… have to thank me for that.” Momo smiled, rubbing her nose against Sana's jaw as her fingers underneath kept gliding on Sana's thigh.
“Sing for me.” Momo's words causes Sana to blink.
“What?”
“Just a little.”
“No way. That's so corny.” Momo chuckled and didn’t protest, and instead just sighed and nestled further into her. Sana smiled against Momo’s temple, brushing her lips there in an unspoken apology. Momo didn’t seem to mind. Her breathing slowed, the warmth of the water and Momo's touch lulling her into something close to sleep.
They stayed like that for a while, bodies submerged, limbs tangled under the surface. Sana wasn’t sure how much time passed—only that she could feel the weight of Momo’s heartbeats, the way her exhales matched Sana’s own. When the water began to cool, the moment felt too premature to end, but Sana knew they should.
“Come on, let’s get you to bed.”
“Only if you’re coming with me.” Momo's sleepy murmurs had Sana smiling.
“Of course.”
When they got to the bed, Momo had fallen asleep almost instantly, her body curling into Sana’s, breath deepening with exhaustion.
But Sana stayed awake.
She traced idle circles into Momo’s back, staring at the ceiling. The room was silent, the only sound being the rhythmic rise and fall of Momo’s breathing. She was near enough to hear every single air that came in and out of her.
Sana thought of the way Momo had held her earlier, how she had clung a little tighter, how she had let herself be vulnerable in a way she was keeping herself from. Staying the night, getting a bath together, sleeping in.
And she'll be gone for four months.
Sana closed her eyes. The exhaustion winning over, pulling her down into the quiet. Momo was still warm beside her, her fingers loosely curled in the fabric of Sana’s shirt, like even in sleep, she didn’t want to let go.
Sana held her a little tighter and let sleep take her.
Sana stirred first, the early morning light filtering through the curtains, painting soft golden lines over Momo’s face. The room was quiet, save for the rhythmic rise and fall of Momo’s breath. She was curled toward Sana, face half-buried in the pillow, dark hair spilling in every direction, her hand rested loosely near Sana’s side.
Sana smiled, pressing her face into the pillow for a moment before carefully slipping out of bed. The sheets rustled as she untangled herself from Momo’s warmth, pausing briefly when Momo shifted but didn’t wake. She was knocked out cold.
Moving quietly, Sana padded to the kitchen, rubbing the lingering sleep from her eyes as she started on the coffee. The scent soon filled the air, and she poured herself a cup, leaning against the counter, watching as the steam curled upward.
Thank the heavens for day-offs—she could just be sluggish in the comfort of her chair, eyes still closing every now and then, though Sana had been used to waking up early so here she was.
What's unexpectant of the day, however, is that Momo was there—knocked out in her room. She was joyed enough to have Momo the whole day on the phone, or maybe have the girl take her out to lunch like she always would in their day-offs, but no—instead, Momo was with her since her eyes met the first hint of light.
And as if on cue, behind her was a soft rustle, then a loud, screeching yawn that definitely broke the silence.
“Mm… what time is it?” Momo says groggily, and Sana turned to find her blinking up at her from the doorway, hair an absolute mess, cheek lined with faint pillow marks. She looked adorably disoriented.
“You look stupid.” Sana giggled, and Momo huffed, dragging herself towards the dining table, rubbing at her face before lazily stretching her arms over her head.
“You’re so mean to me first thing in the morning.”
“That’s how it is.” Sana teased, setting a fresh cup of coffee and a small plate of toast and fruit next to her. Momo sat and hummed appreciatively, accepting the coffee with both hands, taking a slow sip before tilting her head to look at Sana.
“You’re so sweet, you know that?” Sana scoffed.
“Getting sentimental?”
Momo just chuckled, voice still thick with sleep, and leaned against Sana for a moment before digging in her breakfast.
After eating, they ended up lying down on the couch, some random show playing on TV. Sana was tucked into Momo, head resting against her arm, while Momo spooned her from behind, one arm lazily draped over her waist.
It was easy like this. Slow, unhurried. The kind of peace Sana didn’t realize she needed until she had it.
“What if we just had normal jobs?” Momo had said it out of nowhere, breath against her hair, “Like… not band life. Not business life. Just something simple. A nine-to-five. What do you think we’d be doing?” Sana thought about it for a moment.
“Like if you weren't a nepo baby of some sorts?”
“Kinda.”
“Then you'd be stuck in standard corporate hell. But you'd be good at anything.” Momo chuckled.
“And you?”
“I haven't really given it much thought since I always wanted to be a singer.”
“Eh. You're corny.” Sana rolls her eyes at her.
“Then I’d work at a bookstore or a coffee shop. Maybe both. I’d be the menace behind the counter.”
“So that's how we'd meet then? You writing snarky notes on my coffee receipts? Hitting on me?”
“Nope. I'd write something like ‘Stop gawking at me, you weirdo.’”
Momo shook her head in a laugh, her fingers tracing idle circles against Sana’s stomach.
“But then, if that was the case, you wouldn’t have gotten your dream.” Momo whispers, and Sana exhaled softly, staring at the screen but not really watching.
“It’s okay to think about it, though. What if we were just stuck together in an apartment with normal jobs?”
“Then I’d come home from work and find you sitting on the kitchen counter, eating snacks like a gremlin, waiting for me to make dinner.”
“Mhm. You'd sigh dramatically but do it anyway.”
“I'm under your spell, aren't I?” They both laugh, “I’d still be like that even with the jobs we have now, Sana.”
“I know.”
They kept talking, weaving imaginary lives for themselves—silly, simple, entirely mundane. The way Momo would fix things Sana broke, and eventually fail at it so they'd just buy something new. The way Sana would sneak up behind her at her desk job, wrapping her arms around her just to be annoying.
Eventually, their voices grew softer, their words trailing into murmurs of nothing. A warmth settled over them, their breaths slowing in sync, until sleep pulled them under.
Hours later, Sana stirred, groggy from too much sleep. The TV had long since switched to another episode of whatever was playing, and the air had a lazy, dreamlike haze. Momo, now fully awake, was nudging her lightly.
“We need to get out of here before we rot.” Sana groaned.
“Too comfy.”
“Come on baby, get dressed.”
And then, Sana cracked an eye open. Stretching in place before taking a good look at Momo in her hoodie.
“Where are we going?”
“You’ll see.”
And before Sana could argue, they were out the door and inside the car, the sun high and waiting. The city blurred past them, golden sunlight casting long shadows over the streets. The afternoon haze settled like a thin veil, making everything feel just a little softer, a little slower. Sana leaned against the passenger seat, her phone in hand, flicking through her playlists. She skipped a few songs as she hummed, and that's where Hallelujah by Paramore played, and Sana perked up instantly.
“Oh,” she exhaled, a pleased little smile tugging at her lips. “This one’s my favorite.”
“Out of all their songs?”
Sana nodded, already singing along, voice soft, just above a whisper. She wasn’t putting on a show—just feeling the words, letting them settle into the quiet space between them. Momo didn’t say anything else, just listened, one hand on the wheel, the other resting on her thigh before Sana told her to put both hands on the wheel again.
Minutes passed like that, the song stretching into another, then another. The roads grew less crowded as they left the heart of the city, the bustle fading into something calmer, more open. Sana’s head lolled to the side, watching the scenery shift from tightly packed buildings to broader streets lined with old shops, homes with small front yards, flickers of people in their own slow afternoons.
“Where are we going again?” she asked. Momo only smiled, her fingers tapping against the steering wheel.
“You’ll see.” Sana huffed, but let it go.
Time stretched. The road stretched. The buildings thinned out into a different kind, and something shifted in the air. Sana only half-noticed at first—the way the sidewalks looked a little more familiar, the way the streets curved in a way she thought she remembered.
She straightened slightly. Her fingers curled over her knee.
Another turn of the car, and another.
Sana’s breath caught in her throat.
She knew this street.
The next turn made her heart stop completely.
And now, she knew where Momo was going. She was sure.
The old bar.
Notes:
I am so sorry I had to be gone the whole week for some *site visits* (could I now say I'm like Momo here? lol), but I promise to make it up to you guys!
I'll post another chapter on the weekend, for real this time! We're getting nearer and nearer into wrapping up SaMo's story. Let's see how the next chapters turn out!
Oh, and Happy (Funny) Valentine's day! The perfect day to give Momo's song a listen. Thank you for all the continuous support! All the reads, kudos, and comments are very much appreciated. :)
See you on the next! Happy reading!
Chapter 24: XXIV. Still Into You
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
Some things just, some things just make sense,
And one of those is you and I
Some things just, some things just make sense,
And even after all this time,
I'm into you.
The old bar.
Momo could sense Sana’s sudden stillness beside her. She didn't really know what reaction to expect from her. She glanced over, trying to gauge if it was making her uncomfortable, which Momo has thought of countless of times before bringing her here.
Sana’s hand tightened it hold over the glove box, fidgeting with it with her eyes fixed on the bar.
Momo didn’t speak. She let the silence linger, giving Sana the space to process what she was seeing. It wasn’t just any bar—it was the place that held a lot on its back—where she both grew as a singer, and where so many moments of them were etched into her memories alone.
It had never truly left her.
Momo shifted, cutting the engine. The quiet hum of the car seemed louder as the late afternoon sun slanted through the windshield. It was almost 5 P.M., the kind of sun that hung in the sky, reluctant to leave.
“Wow, I haven’t been here in years,” Sana finally says.
“Yeah, me too.” Momo answers, her voice quieter.
They stayed in the car for a while longer. Sana wasn’t saying anything more, and Momo didn’t push. Sometimes silence between them felt more than words.
“They still open at 4, huh? I’m happy this place is still holding up.”
Momo shifted her gaze to the small neon sign that flickered in the window. A moment of quiet passed again between them before Sana gave a small smile, looking fully at Momo now.
“Shall we go down?”
Momo nodded, returning the same smile and offering a soft caress to Sana’s hand before they both stepped out of the car and made their way towards the bar.
Inside, it was just as Momo remembered. Still early, so the place wasn’t crowded yet. The dim lighting, the familiar smell of old wood and beer, the red plastic monobloc chairs, vinyl records lining the walls. Though she spots a signed one from Canary Yellow this time. She smiles.
Most of it hasn't changed. Everything had a nostalgic quality to it, as if the place itself was holding onto its memories, quite like Momo has been holding onto theirs through the years. And this definitely brings her back.
Momo could see Sana’s fascination as she looked around, her eyes lighting up with a mix of surprise and yearning.
Momo had remembered.
She remembered how Sana was always good at capturing attention, even without trying. The way she stood there, taking everything in, it reminded Momo of the first time she watched her on stage. She’d been younger then, more carefree, a little wilder, though the strong spirit never left her even when she grew out some parts of it. But she’d always had that something—something magnetic that drew people in, something that had always made Momo’s heart flutter a little.
The way Sana moved, her hands gesturing lightly as she spoke, the way her voice carried, the way her eyes lit up when she was lost in the moment—it was still the same, but somehow different. She was still that person, that unstoppable force, but now there was a certain calmness to her, a groundedness that hadn’t been there before. Momo watched her with a tenderness that was almost too much to bear, the kind of feeling that made her chest ache in the best way possible.
Like she was falling all over again for her.
They found a seat at a small table, and Momo felt the shift between them. They were back here, but it wasn’t the same, not completely. They weren’t the same. But it wasn't the bad kind of change, at least not now—where things have been going great since they tried again.
Sana smiled at her, and Momo felt that same flutter.
"Their chicken wings are honestly, wow." Sana says. They've just finished ordering, and most of the staff recognized Sana instantly. It's endearing to see the small interactions she had with them before they sat.
“You always ordered the same thing.” Momo chuckles, remembering a moment they playfully argued about it because Momo wasn't too much of a fan of wings. She was the onion-rings type.
“It's the best wings I've ever had in my life.”
"Yeah, yeah." Momo replied, smiling. "I get it.”
"You're weird for ordering onion rings every time, though." Momo rolled her eyes, shaking her head as she leaned back a little. Their chatters went on until the food arrived, and a glass of beer for Sana that Momo teases her about day drinking. The woman just rolled her eyes as they began to dig in.
“What was the last time you came?” Momo asked.
“When we got signed, we didn’t perform here much anymore. It was a few months performing for big acts when we kind of stopped coming after that.” Momo just nods intently. They kept the conversations going—all about nothing and everything, reaching an hour when they finally finished their plates.
"It’s nice to be here again.” Sana sighs into a grin, and Momo couldn’t help but smile, the kind of smile that felt like it was carved into her bones.
"Yeah." Momo says, her gaze flicking around the bar. "I did miss it."
"I missed it a lot.” Sana replied. It was then that Momo had reached out under the table, taking Sana’s skin in her hand, giving it gentle squeezes as they didn't falter from the shared tooth-aching grin. Momo kept mindlessly caressing Sana's thigh, her thumb brushing small circles over the fabric of her jeans. Sana suddenly clicked her tongue, a smirk tugging at her lips.
"What's this, some tacit knowledge shit? You're doing it again." Sana huffs, and Momo raises a brow.
"What?" She giggles, and Sana hummed, dragging a finger down the condensation of her beer can before narrowing her eyes at Momo with a smug grin.
"You're acting all innocent. We might just make out again, careful." The words caught a heat up Momo's throat, and it caused her to bite her lip. Her touches slowed a bit, but they didn’t leave Sana’s thigh. Sana simply smirked, downing the last sip of her beer.
After a while, they left the bar, stepping into the breeze of the setting sun as Sana bought herself another beer can. The sky had dimmed into its cool hues, casting blue all over the busying streets. They settled into Momo’s car, the engine still silent. Sana cracked open her drink.
"Thanks." She murmured after a sip, glancing at Momo.
"For what?"
"For bringing me back." She leaned her head against the seat, staring ahead at the bar, "It’s nice. Revisiting everything again."
Momo nodded, waiting for her to continue.
"How the band came to life. How I started dreaming about everything. And how we first met." Sana then said, almost absentmindedly, and Momo turns slightly toward her.
"We first met at the studio, though."
"Yeah, but that was different," Sana said, rolling the cold beer can between her palms. "That was your nerdy, quiet facade. You’re nothing like that."
"Oh yeah?" Momo laughed, staring at her. "And what am I like to you?" Sana glanced at her, lips curling.
"A menace. You’re always teasing me."
"That’s rich, coming from you." Momo chuckled. Sana nudged her with her elbow.
"Don’t deflect. You tease me in a different way, you fucker.” They both burst into giggles.
"I just got comfortable." Momo says after the laughter dies down a bit, softer this time.
"Comfortable, huh?" Sana nudges her head to the side, still staring at Momo.
"Yeah." Momo smiled. "You made it easy. You always do.” Sana let out a small laugh, shaking her head.
"I don’t think I was that easy to deal with."
Momo just shrugged. Sana turned her gaze away, and the silence that followed wasn’t awkward. Then, after a moment, she broke it once again.
"When was the last time you were here?" She asks. But Momo hesitates.
"Since…” She starts, sighing as she felt more honest now, “Since you left."
Sana sucked in a breath. She didn’t speak right away, just let the weight of Momo’s words settle between them. After a pause, she rested her head on Momo’s shoulder, her fingers finding Momo’s forearm and holding on.
"You know," Sana whispers, "I feel so stupid for that."
"Sana…" Momo’s arm instinctively wrapped around her, pulling her closer.
"It’s okay," Sana exhaled. "I know we’ve talked about it. And things have changed." Momo nodded, running a hand down Sana’s shoulders, slow and reassuring. Sana squeezed Momo's arm tighter.
"I always liked you so much, Momo."
Momo’s breath hitched, but she kept it in, continuing with the light caresses, "I made bad decisions I knew were unnecessary. I hate thinking about how hard it must've been for you when I left without saying anything. I never really thought of it until I saw you again. Everything just came back instantly. I couldn't take it, Momo.”
"It was hard.” Momo admitted, "But we can’t live in the past forever. We're rebuilding everything now, or really just starting anew. And that’s what matters now, isn’t it?"
“Still…"
Momo frowned slightly, sensing something else, "What is it?"
“I don’t want you to leave, Momo." It came as a whisper, too soft that it was almost hard to hear. But Momo's expression softened instantly.
"I didn’t want to say anything because it’s for your work," Sana continued, voice still small, "And I don’t want to be difficult about it. And you might not go if I say something, and I don’t want that either. Or maybe, you know, I'd be annoying.”
"Sana, you can always tell me what you feel. It’s not about being difficult, it’s about being honest. Opening up to each other will make things much easier. For you, for us.” Momo says, “And it means a lot to know if I'm making it easier for you.”
Sana didn’t reply right away. Instead, she shifted slightly, pulling back just a little, as if to create space between them—but Momo wouldn’t let her. Her hand found Sana’s cheek, catching her in a soft, steady hold, her fingers warm against her skin.
Sana’s breath hitched, her gaze lifting, and the moment their eyes met, Momo felt something tighten in her chest. Her breath turned heavy, her pulse slowing, drawn into the quiet gravity of Sana’s expression—eyes dark and searching, filled with something raw, something undeniable.
Momo’s thumb brushed along the curve of Sana’s cheek, slow and deliberate, like memorizing the feel of her, memorizing the way her features softly faded into each other. Her fingers curled slightly, cradling her face, and she found herself tilting closer, drawn in without thinking, without hesitation.
Sana didn’t pull away.
She stayed still, as if waiting, as if caught in the same quiet spell. Momo only softened further, her touch lingering, reverent, as if holding something fragile and precious. She finds Sana's eyes that looked as if it held all the stars in the night. Beautiful. Perfect.
"I won’t leave you. I promise.” Momo’s voice was barely above a whisper, her breath fanning softly against Sana’s skin. "Nothing like before."
Sana’s lashes fluttered, her lips parting, but no words came immediately. Instead, her fingers twitched against Momo’s arm, gripping onto her tightly.
"But you have to go…" The tremor in her voice was slight, but Momo felt it.
"I have to go," Momo agreed, "But I’ll come back. I'll always come back. We'll find each other." A pause, the faintest pull in Momo's expression, before she murmured, softer this time, "But really, this time, we’re not really leaving, you know?"
Sana’s lips quivered. Her gaze flickered, hesitating, before landing on Momo’s again, something uncertain yet achingly certain in her eyes.
Momo lifted a hand, tucking a stray lock of hair behind Sana’s ear, fingertips ghosting along the curve of her cheek, then trailing down to cradle her jaw. Her thumb brushed lightly over her skin—warm and delicate.
"We won’t leave each other again." Momo promised, shaking her head lightly as her forehead pressed gently against Sana’s, the space between them closing like a quiet understanding, like an answer long overdue.
Sana’s fingers curled even tighter around Momo’s wrist, her grip firm, desperate, like she was holding onto something slipping through the cracks. Momo exhaled, slow and quiet, brushing Sana’s hair back before letting her hand settle against the nape of her neck, fingers tangling in the soft strands.
"We’ve lost too much time already, Momo."
“Sana, we have all the time in the world."
Their breaths mixed, in the hush of that closeness,
"I love you, Sana."
A sharp inhale. Sana’s chest stilled for a fraction of a second before a single tear slipped down her cheek, catching the dim light. Her lips parted into a quivering mess, pressing it together, doing the same thing over and over again as Momo gave her a patient smile.
"Really?" Sana's voice trembled, barely audible. Momo nodded, her own throat tightening.
"Really."
Sana let out a shaky exhale, her fingers flexing against Momo’s wrist before she finally whispered back,
“I love you too, Momo. So much."
Momo’s fingers tensed slightly in Sana’s hair, her own eyes misting over. She blinked, swallowing hard, and then, through a small, trembling smile,
"Does this… This- uh-” Momo caught her words in her throat, feeling stupid as hell, but she was able to breathe, before so,
“Can you… be my girlfriend, Sana?"
Sana let out a teary laugh, nodding instantly.
"Yes. Of course, yes, Momo.".
Momo huffed out a joyed laugh, feeling herself over the clouds. Their smiles were wide, tears falling too much that Momo had to wipe away Sana's, and Sana doing the same for her.
“I know I ate onion rings and you hate it but can I kiss y—”
Momo barely had a moment to breathe before Sana surged forward, her lips catching hers—soft, deep, slow. Momo melted into it, her hand sliding up to cup Sana’s cheek, thumb catching the last traces of tears as their mouths moved in sync.
Sana kissed her just as fervently, just as full of everything they had carried, everything they were, everything they were becoming.
And outside, the city carried on. The night stretched open, the streets filled with their usual noise.
But here, in the quiet hum of their own little world, none of it mattered.
They had found each other again.
Just them—and they were never letting go.
Notes:
I feel... aaahh.. Is it normal to feel this way about something I wrote? :') It's a really short chapter but I'm happy about SaMo now.
Last two chapters! Will be posting on Friday and immediately on the day after. Sorry I couldn't do my updates quicker just really busy these days :')
And again, happy reading! Thank you so much for all the support. I appreciate it and you have all made my SaMo writing journey so wonderful. Of course, they'll be more fics from me in the future (and one to be posted right after this ends!)
Maybe anyone could guess what happens in the next chapter? The tags are there for a reason... LOL.
See you all on the next!
Chapter 25: XXV. Native Tongue
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
We used to live like we were strangers
We didn’t know any better we didn’t fit
In with the out crowd so we gave in
And we shut our mouths
The car was dim, the soft glow of the bar lights and the rest of the streets barely seeping through the car windows.
Sana was uncomfortably seated on the passenger seat, all because Momo’s fingers were tugging her sleeves back and forth, and back, and forth. Her grip was stronger than any pull of force.
Sana exhaled, the warmth of it barely escaping before Momo kissed her again. It was deep, eager, as Momo cupped her jaw, thumb pressing lightly into the edges of it, fitting Sana into her small hand.
Sana didn’t resist. She never did when it came to Momo. Instead, she let herself press forward, lips parting just slightly to pull Momo in deeper, her own fingers absentmindedly tracing along the dip of Momo’s collarbone.
"You're eager." Sana murmured between their mouths, her voice a ghost of a sound as Momo's lips kept chasing hers.
"I told you," Momo whispered, her lips brushing against Sana’s with every word. "If I kiss you, I can't stop."
Sana hummed, pleased, her fingers curling into the fabric above Momo’s shoulder, pulling her closer. Momo let her, yet the next moment, she was the one taking control again, pulling Sana lightly at the back of her arm, then slipping her fingers under her sleeve to touch the bare skin there.
The contrast between soft and firm made Sana sigh into the kiss, and with her lips slightly parted, it was an inevitable thing to invite their tongues in.
Momo's hand found Sana's throat, running up the tip of her fingers and even wrapping her whole hand around it—not pressing, just a light touch, claiming her in a way so gentle yet possessive that it made Sana’s knees weak even though she was already sitting.
Sana moaned, and she felt Momo getting more aggressive with her kisses. Sana's hands slipped to Momo’s waist, fingers playing with the fabric there. She tugged once, then let go. Tugged again. Let go. Momo smirked against her lips, sensing all of it.
"You’re an amazing girlfriend.” Momo muttered, her voice smug yet warm. Sana smiled into the kiss, fingers slipping under Momo’s shirt now, just enough to brush the bare skin of her hip, and the girl shudders.
"I’ve been your girlfriend for like… five minutes, Momo."
“Best five minutes of my life.” Momo says, her free hand finding the side of Sana’s thigh, pressing her thumb in slow, rhythmic circles through the fabric, and moving dangerously to the inner parts of it.
“You haven't seen the best of it, Momo.”
Their lips met over and over, tongues fighting, the wet sounds filling the space, tasting each other so shamelessly. Momo’s fingers were restless—one in the middle of her thighs, one through Sana’s hair—then the next it was tracing slow lines down the curve of her neck, the next settling at her lower back, pulling her close.
Sana let herself be graced by Momo's touches—be glorified, but she wasn’t entirely passive either. Her nails were digging into toned arms that she always admired.
Then, Momo pulled away just enough to breathe, her nose brushing against Sana's cheek, kissing it,
"Come to the back with me." She whispered, and the tone alone sent shivers down Sana's spine.
“You don’t want to drive me home?" Sana had a knowing smile.
"I need you now, Sana.”
She didn’t argue. They both reached for the door handle, her hand brushing against Momo’s one last time before she slipped out into the cool night air. And when she climbed into the backseat, Momo was already there, waiting. It was barely spacious enough, yet it didn’t matter—from crystal-clear memories of making out with Momo in her car—and now when she was pulling Sana onto her lap the moment she entered. Sana was giggling against Momo’s mouth as their knees bumped and their limbs tangled in the shuffle.
“Excuse me, you’re not the only one with legs here.” Sana muttered playfully, shifting to straddle Momo properly, her palms pressing lightly against her shoulders for balance. Momo’s hands were already on Sana’s waist.
“You’re the one climbing all over me.” Momo chuckled, and Sana clicked her tongue, dipping down close enough for their noses to brush.
“You just told me to move back here.”
“I didn’t say sit on me, but you did.” Momo shrugged, though her hold only tightened when Sana started moving her hips in a menacing way. Going forward and rubbing herself onto Momo's core. Sana hummed, amused with the way Momo stayed mouth agape. She tilted her head as she leaned in, stopping at the corner of Momo’s lips.
“Or you want me to stop?” Sana whispers lowly, and Momo was quicker to shake her head, “You're so horny.” She chuckled.
Yet Sana kept moving, teasing her lips close to Momo which the latter then kept chasing. Sana wasn't letting her on easy, but Momo was persistent—being able to catch the back of Sana's head and pulling her in, capturing her lips in something deeper and needier. They moaned into the heated kiss, their mouths pressing and parting with the kind of unspoken hunger that came from years of restraint breaking down in the span of a single night.
“I always knew those arms were good for something.” Sana says as she pulls away briefly, going back and forth the kisses for a breath. Momo bravely dropped down her touches to Sana's ass, squeezing it.
“Not the only thing they'll be doing tonight.”
Sana gasped softly when Momo’s fingers were suddenly kneading at her stomach, dragging it under, creasing the fabric, as it was dangerously closing onto her chest.
“Fuck,” Sana was breathless as Momo gave it a light squeeze. Momo kept caressing her breasts in between their sloppy kisses, with Sana whimpering all over her. But it stopped when Momo tugged at the hem of her shirt. Sana knew what this was all coming to, and she succumbed to it—letting Momo remove her shirt and immediately being met by breathy kisses and muffled moans.
Shortly, Momo's shirt was also lost somewhere in the car. They didn't give a single damn about the cool air-conditioning hitting their exposed skin—at least not anymore when the heat was wrapping them in their own world.
Their movements were becoming quicker. And Momo's hands were shaking as she teased the lock of Sana's bra. Threatening to unlatch it.
Then, in a whisper, “Can I?” Sana giggles.
“So chivalrous.” Sana trailed small pecks on Momo's jaw, moving just below her ear and giving it a light nibble, “Do whatever you want with me tonight. I know you want to.” She whispers.
“You’re hell on earth, Sana.” A growl came with her words, “I might just lose myself.” Momo's whispers were strong—Sana knew she was pressing her teeth tight.
“Mm, baby, I know what you want.”
“Mm?” Momo shuts her eyes, feeling Sana's hand above her own, and just before she could register it, Sana already unclasped the strap. Momo didn't miss the chance to open her eyes as the garment surrendered into gravity. She gaped, admiring Sana's chests, and the latter giggles.
“Really? Like you haven't seen it before?” Sana giggles, but it was quickly replaced by a yelp as the world tilted beneath her, her back suddenly pressing against the cool leather of the backseat, “Momo!”
“You have no idea how that bounce made me feel.” Sana, now lying down, proceeds to hit her arm. “The seat is smaller than I thought.” Momo huffed, shifting above her with grunts, and Sana couldn't keep her giggles away. She was half-naked for heaven's sake.
“No shit, you’re practically- ow, ow- your knee, Momo-”
“Hold on- just-” Sana tried to wriggle herself into a more comfortable position beneath Momo’s awkwardly hovering form.
“This is the least graceful thing you’ve ever done.”
Momo shot her a flat look, then, with one last shift of her weight, settled properly, one leg bracketing Sana’s hip while the other stretched out for balance. Her arms caged Sana in, supporting her weight. Sana looked up at her equally breathless, her giggles fading into something quieter.
Momo hovered above her, gaze flickering over Sana’s features, and to her chest, biting her lip through the process. Her hands slid down, finding Sana’s breasts and palming them, playing with her nipples between the spaces of her fingers. Sana hummed in satisfaction, her waist lifting up to meet Momo's hungrily—which the latter takes the chance to slide down her sweatpants, removing them and throwing it somewhere in the driver's seat.
Sana swallowed, heartbeat stuttering.
“You cold, baby?” Momo smiles like an angel, quite ironic with the way her hands were eagerly gracing Sana's breasts.
Sana didn't get to retort before Momo caught her lips again, her weight sinking just slightly against her, enough to press them together. Momo's kisses trailed down—to her cheek, to her jaw, and as her arm dragged up to tangle into Sana's hair, Momo pulled it with just enough force not to hurt her, but enough to tilt her head and give her space to place wet kisses on her neck.
“Momo...” Sana bites her lip in a sigh as her whole body shivers. Momo's hands were now moving downwards, her fingertips drawing circles on her stomach, teasing dangerously close to the waistband of her underwear. Sana shudders. A whimpering mess.
Momo moves Sana's head to another angle once again with just a single pull of her hair. Sana was looking at her with doe eyes, and Momo was burning her with a stare.
“Let me tell you how I'll do you right,” Momo whispers with a subtle growl. Sana couldn't form any word from the thought of what Momo might do to her right now, she could feel her blood rushing through all her good veins. Momo was starting to draw circles on Sana's clothed center, and the girl licks her lips, “I haven't said anything yet and you're wet for me already?”
Sana gasped at the raspy voice. She was indeed feeling uncomfortably damp down there, and Momo was only making her drip even more. Sana felt like exploding there and then.
“You’d like me to take care of that?” Momo's hold on her hair was tightening, and Sana could feel the weight of her desires killing her slowly into shreds. And suddenly, Momo clicks her tongue, “Why aren't you answering me, Sana?”
“Do whatever you want.” Sana breathes, “Please.”
“You're so fucking hot.”
“Fuck,” Sana could feel her underwear becoming too wet from the way Momo was touching her above it. Momo hums in amusement.
“You sound so helpless.” Momo bites her lip, “I can't help myself when you're like that.” And then, Momo suddenly pulls down Sana's underwear which Sana swore she heard it tear. She tries to close her legs shut from the sudden cold, but Momo clicks her tongue, her arms strong enough to nudge it open again. Her center was glistening—inviting.
“Momo, please,” Sana whines, and Momo was just touching near her center—between her thighs, the surface, the edges—but never touching directly.
“Momo, stop teasing." Sana whines, attempting to bring her hands to the girl's arm, but Momo was quick to dodge it, pinning it over her head with her other hand. She gives her a sly grin.
"You tease me all the time, Sana." Momo chuckles, "You're so impatient." Sana was about to groan, but was immediately turned into a moan when Momo swiped right between her folds.
“That’s differe—Oh, fuck!” Sana bit her lip when she felt fingers sliding in easily, a light thrust hitting her perfectly. She unconsciously throws her head back, but Momo nudges her back, her one hand still tangled on Sana's hair.
"Look at me." Momo says, sounding unamused, "You're so beautiful.” Sana felt her fingers pulling out.
“Momo,” She whines, but was replaced by a moan after feeling Momo's fingers drawing soft circles on her clit.
"You're so perfect, Sana." She was shuddering under her delicate touch. "Can you believe it? You're my girlfriend. I'm so lucky."
Sana wanted to smile, but instead bit her lip when Momo dipped in a finger once again, harder this time. Sana hissed and rolled her eyes back in pure bliss. But Momo clicks her tongue.
"Baby, I said look at me." Sana's mouth was agape, looking all helpless under Momo, her hips bucking closer as she chases Momo's fingers inside of her. "Look at me while I fuck you, Sana. Understand?"
She nods. Feeling herself in a haze.
"But if you want me to stop, just tell me, okay?” Momo places a chaste kiss on her lip, voice more gentle, and Sana nods.
Though the next thing she felt was fingers being inserted into her in one strong thrust. She couldn't count how many—it didn't matter because Momo was suddenly sliding hard and fast inside her, fucking her knuckles deep, all things in her mind eliminated apart from ecstasy.
Her head was about to roll out once again, but Momo's fervid stare caught her back—like she naturally didn't want to test Momo's words—not when she sounded so intense about it. So, Sana kept her eyes trained to Momo, but she wasn't really seeing anything with how heavenly Momo's fingers were hitting her sweet spot.
Sana was a moaning mess. She chanted Momo's name like her true worshipper, not being able to say anything else between her grunts and moans. She's never seen Momo this frantic, and now she's fucking her like a madman, making Sana bend her whole upper body into the car seat while her feet tiptoed in pleasure. Momo's eyes were locked onto hers in outrageous devotion, and Sana was going crazy. Momo lifted her leg and propped it up to her shoulder, giving her an even better angle.
“So- so good- Mo- fuck!” Clapping noises from Momo's knuckles hitting her skin echoed, the squelching sound of her growing wetness filling their ears, and the squeaking of the seats which Sana swears she'll hit her head on the door soon with how aggressive Momo was moving in her. She tried to make out words but all that came were grunts and staggered moans.
"Momo- I- Mm- Oh- Fu-"
“Yes?” She asks breathlessly, yet didn't even make the effort of slowing down. “You're so fucking beautiful. So fucking perfect, Sana.” Sana was gonna lose it any time soon, and she held tight into the back of Momo's shoulders, unconsciously burying her nails into the skin as an intense heat started making its way into her core.
“Fuck! I'm gonna- Mo-!”
Sana had her mouth wide open, without any sound, throwing her head back for the first time as she began to see the stars. It's like everything inside her exploded into butterflies. A loud moan escapes Sana as she reaches her high, feeling her wetness explode down there. Momo made sure to deliver slow and deep thrusts to ride her high, and she felt like passing out at any moment, legs shaking vigorously.
Sana was slowly gaining a grasp of reality as she felt Momo placing kisses on her temple. She was catching her breaths, still not able to form anything coherent.
“I love you so much, Sana.” Momo's breath ghosts her skin, causing goosebumps like she wasn't just fucked until she desensitized.
“Baby, are you okay?” A worry was laced into Momo's voice when Sana couldn't answer, she could barely let out a breathy chuckle, but was able to.
“You were…” Sana breaths, “...something.”
“Why?” Momo smiles in confusion, placing kisses on Sana's cheek and running her fingers in her hair.
“I feel like dying.”
“Don't die on me. You'll still be going on all fours.”
“Baby, my legs can't move. And the car seat is full of my cum.” Momo chuckled, her breath fanning over Sana’s lips before she leaned in, ghosting a kiss there—barely a touch, just enough to make Sana chase after her. Sana let out a small, frustrated whimper, her fingers curling into Momo’s nape to pull her back down.
“Don’t do that, now.” Sana whispers.
Momo only smirked against her skin, dragging her lips across Sana’s cheek, then down to her jaw, pressing kisses that were featherlight, deliberate—too teasing, too slow.
“Do what?” Momo asked, voice low, lips brushing the sensitive spot just below Sana’s ear. Sana shuddered, her nails scratching at her nape.
“Momo…”
“Hm?” Momo sucked right at her pulse. Sana clenched her jaw, her breath coming out uneven.
“You know what you’re doing.”
Momo grinned, lips trailing lazily down the column of Sana’s throat, giving her a few sucks that could be marking by now. Hands were slipping down to her abdomen once again.
“Maybe I just don’t want to stop kissing my girlfriend.” Momo’s mouth was now down to her collarbone.
“Just say you want to fuck me more.”
Momo hummed, lifting her head slightly, eyes dark and knowing, “I’m not saying anything, you know.”
“I'm not complaining.”
Momo chuckled before kissing her lower and lower, tantalizingly slow, like she had all the time in the world. And maybe they did.
The night stretched on around them, the air thick and suffocating in a good way—heady and warm. And as Momo’s lips wandered all the crevices of Sana's body, as fingers tightened their hold around her back, and as their names were being chanted into screams, the world outside blurred into insignificance.
There was no stopping them now.
Momo was stretching with a loud screech. She just stood, yet she threw herself back in the bed. Sana whines, pushing her away.
“Stop.”
“What?” Momo asks innocently, and Sana clicks her tongue. She knew it was far from innocent.
“You keep asking for another round. We have to continue packing or you won't have things to bring.” Momo groans, hugging Sana's bare and slightly sweaty frame from all the cleaning, packing, and sex they've been doing at Momo's place for the last three days.
“Just one more?” Momo grins mischievously.
“Nope.” Sana gets up, and stretches at the foot of the bed, “I still have to stop by the company for the interview. Or Jihyo will find us and have us assassinated.”
Momo stretches loudly once again, and Sana makes her way to the bathroom. Momo sat on the bed, picking up their sprawled clothes from the floor. When suddenly, she hears Sana scream.
“Sana! Are you okay!” Momo rushes to the bathroom, “Is there a spider because I’m also scared of them-” But she stops, jaw falling to the floor when she sees what all of it was about,
“Momo Hirai!” Momo backs up slowly, “My neck is purple you little shit!”
Sana adjusted the scarf wrapped snugly around her neck, tugging at the fabric just a little more to ensure full coverage. She needed a mirror, but she was already rushing to the makeup room. It wasn’t her usual style, but desperate times called for desperate measures.
Thankfully, there was no suspicion from her bandmates. But when she was asked to sit on the makeup chair…
"Sana," Their makeup artist called out behind her, "Can you take that off? I need to do your foundation properly."
"On. Can I keep it on this time?” Sana turned around, smiling sweetly.
"Uh, well, it's going to be hard with the outfit. The neckline won’t match."
“I really, really like it, though."
Jihyo, who had been scrolling through her phone, was unfortunately having a bad morning today.
"Sana, just remove it already. So Jeongyeon can go next.”
“No…"
But Jihyo got up from her chair and walked over, fingers reaching out toward the scarf. Sana jerked away.
"Hey! Personal space!"
Jihyo and the makeup artist exchanged confused looks before Jihyo let out a dramatic sigh.
“Sana, I really have to do your makeup properly." The makeup artist says once again. Sana groaned, finally yanking the scarf down.
And the whole room gasped in unison.
“Oh. my. god.”
Sana winced as her bandmates gawked at the collection of blooming marks scattered along her neck and collarbone. She sighed in defeat as they burst into laughter, Jeongyeon was clutching her stomach, Tzuyu and Chaeyoung fell to the floor, Yeji, Seungcheol, and even their makeup artist had their eyes wide and unmoving.
"Damn! Momo's a fucking leech!" Jeongyeon was out of air in laughter.
"Fuck you all.”
Later that day, the sound of cardboard shifting and the occasional struggling grunts filled their apartment. Momo stood in front of a stack of boxes, hands on her hips, thinking about her next move. Meanwhile, Sana was sprawled on the floor, surrounded by two large suitcases with unorganized things surrounding it. She did volunteer to help Momo pack, but she didn't know Momo was also planning to clean the whole place and reorganize things—even if it was already clean enough.
“Alright. Get up.” Momo had been meticulously stacking the boxes in a way that made sense only to her. Sana whines.
“I’m not built to carry things.”
“Okay. You get some rest, baby.”
“Damn. That easy?” Sana huffs out a laugh, “I didn't even move a single thing.” Momo just shrugs.
Later, as they (or Momo) continued cleaning, Momo found herself alone in their room, sorting through a set of keepsake boxes she had shoved away months ago.
One box, in particular, caught her eye.
It was small, nondescript, which was unusual since Momo had the habit of labelling her stuff. It was tucked underneath the rest as if it had been forgotten on purpose.
Curious, Momo pulled it out, fingers hesitating over the lid. And she opened it.
Inside were pieces of pink and purple sticky notes—some crumpled, some neatly folded.
Momo stilled.
Her fingers hovered over the papers.
She knows what it is.
"Momo?”
Sana had appeared at the door, her head slightly tilted. Momo looked up at her, startled.
"I really think we should cook something beef tonight. You told me you've been feeling it too, right?” Sana invited herself to walk closer, sitting on the floor next to Momo and peering over her shoulder. "Oh, what’s that?"
Momo’s mouth parted, but no words came out. She swallowed, picking up a piece of paper before Sana could reach for it. But Sana was faster. She grabbed one of the sticky notes, flipping it open. She reads it.
"I learn your last name. It’s pretty. It suits you. Just like how pretty you are asleep, Minatozaki."
Sana let out a soft laugh. "Awww, when was this?"
Momo smiled, "A while ago."
Sana reached for another.
"When I first saw you at the studio you were so pretty I had a crush on you. I didn't want you around because pretty girls ruin my life. And now I'm learning how to make blood sausages because you told me it's your favorite, instead of studying for my prelims. And I might visit you today. Yeah. Okay. I will."
Sana paused, eyes darting towards Momo.
"You had a crush on me already?" She says, but her tone was far from teasing. Momo chuckled, rubbing the back of her neck.
"Something about you," Momo directed her gaze towards the floor, "You’re exactly my type."
Sana giggled, bumping her arm against Momo’s. Sana digs up the box again, and beneath all the notes, she finds a folded normal-sized paper. Her fingers brushed against the edge of it, picking it up.
"What’s this?"
Momo hesitated. Knowing exactly what it was. But Sana was waiting, expression curious and expectant. Momo breathes.
"I was… gonna give it to you when…" Momo starts, and Sana raises a brow, "When I arrived home and, well, you were not- you know."
Sana’s smile faltered.
"Oh, Momo…"
Momo caught the change in her expression instantly, reaching out, "Baby, hey, don’t cry." She cupped Sana’s face, her thumbs brushing gently over growing tears, "It’s okay now. You’re my girlfriend now." Sana sniffled, blinking up at her.
“Can I still have it? I wanna read.”
"Of course, baby." Momo’s lips curled fondly. Then, quieter, she added, "But can you read it when I leave?"
Sana frowned slightly, "Why?"
"Uh, just because."
"Okay." Sana answered, and Momo smiled. She pressed a kiss to Sana's forehead.
"I love you, Sana."
"I love you too, Momo.” Sana closed her eyes, leaning into the touch. Their foreheads rested together, and after such, Momo found her lips in a gentle kiss.
“You're never gonna get tired of kissing me?” Sana asks, and Momo kisses her again.
“Never.”
"Haven't forgotten anything else?" Sana asks, adjusting the strap of Momo’s bag on her shoulder as they stand near the departure gate. Momo was reaching for her pockets, then the front of her hoodie.
"Nope, all good." Momo smiles, and as she lets go of her pocket, she pulls out a small keyring, "Here. Your copy of my keys." She places it in Sana’s palm, "If you wanna stay in my apartment while I'm gone, I might just prefer that."
Sana shakes her head with a small giggle.
"I can't leave my place." She pauses, watching Momo's face fall slightly before adding, "But I'll stay at your place sometimes." Momo’s frown melts into a big, lopsided smile.
"I'll call you a lot, okay?" Her fingers tighten slightly around Sana’s hand.
“You better.”
"I'll miss you, Sana." The words come softer, a touch raw, and for the first time that morning, the reality of the goodbye seems to settle between them. But Sana clicks her tongue, squeezing Momo’s hand.
"Don’t cry. It'll hurt your head.” Momo scoffs, pulling back, but the crease in her brow doesn’t fade, "You’re gonna be gone for four months, Momo. You’re not entering the military. Chill."
"Still, that's too long." Momo sighs, "You won't miss me?"
Sana cups her face, fingers pressing against her skin as she pulls her in for a deep, long kiss. Momo exhales sharply, her hands immediately gripping Sana’s waist, drawing her in. When they part, Momo darts her eyes around.
"Aren’t the paparazzi gonna bully you for this?” Sana rolls her eyes in a smirk, kissing her again.
"I don’t care about them, Momo. I’m gonna miss my girlfriend. I’m gonna have to kiss her a lot before she goes, yeah?"
Momo exhales a quiet laugh, and they exchange a few more soft kisses, careful, fleeting—lips brushing, then pulling away, only to return like magnets. They were careful not to make out in the middle of a damn airport, even if they wanted so badly to.
And when the final boarding call echoes through the speakers, Momo exhales shakily, pressing one last kiss against Sana’s forehead before stepping away.
“Bye.” Momo smiles sadly.
“I'll see you again, yeah?”
“Always.”
Sana slumps into the back seat of the cab, her forehead pressed against the window, watching as the airport fades into the distance. Her phone vibrates in her lap.
I miss you so much already. Feels like we're worlds apart.
Sana rolled her eyes, but she was feeling the exact opposite. She types back,
You’re still on the ground, Momo.
So? I miss you.
Sana shakes her head, sighing.
I miss you too.
Take care. You'll still come home to me.
Yes, ma'am.
Coming home in one piece.
After four months though :(
Let's start counting the days now.
I love you.
I love you so muuuch
I hate it here already
I put some sandwiches in your bag
I hope you're less sad. :)
Thank you baby :)
I love you
Get some cab rest. I'll eat them.
She leans back, closing her eyes, the mute sound of traffic outside lulling her into a daze as she tells the driver Momo’s address instead of her own.
Momo’s apartment feels emptier than usual.
Sana toes off her shoes lazily, dropping her bag on the couch before beelining for the bedroom. She plops onto the bed, sinking into the mattress, her face immediately burying itself in Momo’s pillow.
She inhales.
The scent is unmistakable—a leafy garden that smells like fabric conditioner—that’s what she settled into calling it. Something warm, something so distinctly Momo.
Her fingers clutch at the sheets, pulling them tighter around her. She was rubbing it into her face, sniffing even harder just to get all of what's left of Momo.
She told Momo not to change them before she left. To let her have them for a week at least, and that she'll change them herself. Sana sighs, remembering how Momo just nodded and kissed her right after. She pressed deeper into the fabric, shutting her eyes tight.
Then suddenly, she remembers something…
The letter.
Her eyes snap open.
Sana pushes herself up, heart suddenly picking up its pace as she moves toward the shelves where Momo had stashed it. She reaches out, fingers grazing the box before she pulls it down with a soft thud.
She hesitates.
But then, slowly, she lifts the lid.
A neatly folded letter rests on top of a pile of the sticky notes, a lot still left unread, all written by the same hand.
Sana swallows, focusing now on the distinct paper. Then, she starts to unfold the letter with careful fingers.
Momo’s handwriting greets her—
Your eyes are perfect.
I don't know if this is a way to start a letter but I thought of it for a while now. And every time I look at you maybe that's ninety-percent of what I can think of. They're so beautiful.
And you're always on my mind. One kiss is all it takes to falter me over and have me fumble over the most sensible things.
You have me twirling on your finger, and I don't know if that's good or bad, but to me, it's enough for me to feel alive.
I always feel like I've known you for so long that I forgot how it was to live not knowing your touch. Even if it was just months ago that I first met you.
And that first time I saw you, I thought you were trouble. I kept telling myself maybe I should’ve listened to my own warning.
It's a good thing I didn't.
I don’t know how to say this right, or if I’m even supposed to, but I’m not leaving, Sana. I know things are hard right now, but I won’t throw you under the bus. I know it's been hard to smile lately but please let me be with you even if you're sad.
I don’t know how to fix things for you, but I will. I’ll be here. Even if I don’t know how to help. I'll do my best.
You don’t have to give up your dreams, Sana. You don’t have to let them take it away from you.
And if you ever feel like you can’t stand, I’ll be there to hold you up. Always.
Sana presses a trembling hand over her mouth.
Her vision blurs.
She clutches the letter to her chest, breath hitching, as a quiet, overwhelmed sob escapes her.
It's a large feeling all at once—regret, guilt, sadness—but somehow, one thing was bigger than the rest. Undeniable. A promise she made to herself and to Momo,
Love.
And now, finally, Sana knows,
She'll stay and hold onto it.
And never ever let it go this time.
Notes:
That ends the second to the last chapter... sigh.
I hope you've all liked it so far. I'm really grateful for all the support ever since I started posting this fic. It always meant a lot to me to have kudos, comments, and reads on my way. Though there have been a lot of flaws in the story, I love how this has turned out now.
And I'll make sure to be a better writer for my next SaMo fics! (Which BTW, they've been getting back together recently. I mean, couple earrings at the airport? Hello? And the fact that Momo pierced her ears again for Sana is my life support)
Happy reading! :) Let me know your thoughts on everything! And I'll see you on the n̶e̶x̶t̶ last!
Chapter 26: XXVI. Hallelujah
Notes:
A full circle—this chapter is named after the title of the whole fic itself.
Hallelujah by Paramore is what this work has been based on. One song that encapsulates Sana and Momo's whole journey—you'll see until the end.
For now, enjoy reading!
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
Somehow everything's gonna fall right into place,
If we only had a way to make it all fall faster everyday.
Sana was still half-buried in Momo’s sheets when she groggily reached for a handful of popcorn.
Her fingers closed around nothing but fabric.
She blinked.
The bowl was empty.
Oh.
She must’ve finished it last night.
With a sigh, she stretched lazily, rubbing her face into Momo’s pillow, inhaling the familiar scent that lingered. It wasn’t as strong as before, since Sana had changed it multiple times over the last months, but bathing it in Momo's laundry detergent and perfume was getting her by—helping her to stop grieving at the absence even just for a bit.
For the past three months, this had been her routine—stealing Momo’s bed, talking to her on the phone until she got too sleepy to respond, and then eventually dozing off mid-conversation. It wasn’t the same as having Momo here, but it was all she had.
Still, as much as she loved sleeping in, she was supposed to have called Momo already.
Momo had told her last night,
"Call me at exactly nine, baby. I have an important shift and you know how I am with alarms.”
And they even slept early. So now, Sana turned to look at the clock.
9:30 AM.
Shit.
She scrambled upright, heart jumping as she reached for her phone.
Momo was definitely going to be cranky.
With fumbling hands, she pressed the call button, bringing the phone to her ear.
One ring.
Two.
And then—
"Baby? Hey—honey, who's that? Shh!”
Sana froze.
Her entire body tensed at the unfamiliar voice—a woman’s voice, soft, sweet—
"Uh, hi! Sana!”
Honey?
Sana’s stomach twisted, her grip on the phone tightening. She was definitely wide awake now.
“Who the fuck was that, Momo Hirai?”
“Who was what?” Momo’s voice was casual and light, but Sana's pulse was suddenly pounding in her ears, the words looping over and over.
Sana wasn’t sure if she had even spoken when she heard Momo again—
"Oh wait! Ha ha! My shift's starting soon! Talk to you later hon-baby! Baby! Sana! Love you!"
The line went dead.
Sana stared at her phone, her reflection dimly visible on the dark screen.
What. The. Fuck.
A cold wave of disbelief washed over her.
There was no way.
No.
No, no, no, no. Momo wouldn’t…
Or would she?
Sana’s lips parted, her breath shallow, her mind spiraling into a thousand thoughts all at once.
Then, without hesitation, she called Momo again.
And again.
And again.
No answer.
Her chest tightened, frustration bubbling up as she shoved herself off the bed, grabbing a jacket, stuffing her phone into her pocket as she stormed out of the apartment. Momo's apartment at that.
This wasn’t happening.
She had been prepared for four months apart. She had been ready for the slow ache of missing Momo, for the silent nights curled into an empty bed, for the painstaking countdown of weeks, days, hours.
But she had not been prepared for this.
For some woman’s voice in the background calling Momo honey.
Her stomach twisted.
No.
No, Sana trusted her.
But still, her mind was spiraling out of control, her grip tightening around her phone as she rushed down the street, trying Momo’s number again. She was feeling her tears threatening to overflow. This was not the Momo she knew. The Momo she loves. Or at least not the Momo she expected. But she did not want to believe a single ounce of it. This must be one of her dreams. She's dreamt about it before—Momo hooking up with Emma Watson in the bathtub of a gas station—but that was as far as it could go.
"Pick up, pick up, pick up,” Sana was close to sobbing, feeling it crash onto her like waves. She was slapping herself repeatedly, wishing this was just the world of sleep messing with her.
But then,
Momo?
She was there.
Standing by her car.
Holding flowers.
Leaning against the door with the dumbest, most smug smile Sana had ever seen in her life.
A rush of confusion tightened on her chest like a vice. So this is a dream? Because Momo was here. That would be impossible-
"Hi, baby." Momo talked, grinning.
The first instinct was Sana punching her in the arm.
"Ow!" Momo yelped, nearly dropping the bouquet.
“You're real?”
“Of course I am!” Momo was rubbing her arm in pain, but Sana just got more confused.
"Who the fuck was that on the phone?" Sana demanded. "You were with another girl! She called you honey! You fucking cheat-"
"Sana! No! It was a prank!” Momo barely dodged another hit, shielding herself as Sana threatens her with another hit.
"Prank my ass! That's such a classic excuse!”
"Wait, no, I'm serious! It was a recording!" Momo shuffles through her pocket, struggling to keep the flowers intact, "I'll show you, just- just wait…”
But before she could, Sana grabbed her face and kissed her.
Hard.
Momo gasped, just barely catching her balance, the flowers crinkling between them.
The moment stretched. Sana’s fingers tangled in Momo’s sweater, Momo’s lips molding instinctively against hers, the months apart dissolving into a breathless mess of desperate, heated kisses.
Sana pulled back, barely an inch away, and Momo was still blinking, dazed.
"You asshole.” Sana muttered, her breath warm against Momo’s lips.
"A very loyal asshole-”
Sana kissed her again.
Her hands slid up, threading into Momo’s hair, tugging slightly. Momo made a sound low in her throat. The car door clicked open behind them, and Sana smirked, pushing Momo towards the backseat. Momo stumbled back, landing with a thud against the seats, managing to place the bouquet on the front.
"Wha- wait, we’re-"
Sana climbed in after her, shutting the door behind them.
Momo barely got the words out before Sana was kissing her again, hands roaming under her sweater, pressing against the heat of her toned skin underneath. The feel of it slipping into familiarity.
Momo exhaled shakily, her own hands finding Sana’s waist, pulling her closer.
"Wait, we're doing it here?" Momo mumbled between kisses, her hands sliding under Sana’s shirt. Sana’s lips ghosted down her jaw, nipping slightly.
"I don’t really care, Momo." Sana whispers. Momo shivered, nudging her head back slightly.
"But the windows… you know they’re not that much tinted. I mean, we did do it here a few times but it was somewhere dark and with less people and-"
"I don’t give a damn." Sana’s voice was muffled against her neck, "I missed you so much.”
"I missed you too, baby.” Momo's hands were removing Sana's clothes—succeeding on her jacket, and now lifting up her shirt.
“You’ll still have to explain later. Right now we're gonna have angry sex.”
“Oh, wow, yeah, that is nice.”
Sana didn’t know how long they stayed in the car, tangled up in each other, whispering hushed apologies and laughing at their own ridiculousness. It went up to shared grunts, heavy breaths, and Sana screaming Momo's name over and over while they were reaching fervid heights. And then she accidentally choked Momo for real, even kissing her as an apology.
By the time they stumbled through the door of Momo’s apartment, neither had fully let go of the other.
Momo’s sweater was buttoned wrongly, her suitcase forgotten in the car, but they didn’t care. Sana pulled Momo onto the bed, curling against her as the weight of missing her finally settled. Moments have passed, and Sana was back to the cycle of digging her nails on Momo's bare shoulders, screaming until her throat hurt, and Momo giving her tiny kisses by her temple.
“What do you do to me?" Sana whispers breathlessly, removing Momo's hand from between her hips. They were laying on the bed, and Momo's face was nuzzled between her chests.
"Mm?" Momo stops with the low touches, and ends up kissing Sana from the neck up.
"You smell like airport and cum."
"You wouldn't want it any other way.” Momo chuckled, her fingers tracing gentle circles on Sana’s chest. Sana hummed in response, already halfway asleep.
"Thank you for the flowers, Momo. They’re beautiful.” Sana grinned. “I'm sorry for crumpling them a bit.” The bouquet was placed on the bedside table, a mix of pink peonies and white tulips, exactly how Sana loved them—even if she doesn't remember telling Momo anything about it.
“Anything for you, baby.”
“Why are you here, though? Where's your mistress? So I can plot both your murders.” Sana whispers menacingly, and Momo just chuckles.
“Do you still want the recording? Peace of mind?”
“Nah.” Sana says, and they share a laugh. “I thought you weren't supposed to be back until next month?”
“Well technically, I wasn’t. But,” Momo rolled onto her back, stretching her arms above her head with the loud shriek she always did. She turned her head, grinning at Sana, “Turns out, they didn’t really need me as long as they thought they did. The projects were ahead of schedule, and the senior execs took over a few things I was handling, so, yeah.”
“So you just packed your bags and left?” Sana raised a skeptical brow.
“Basically.” Momo shrugged. “My family doesn't even know I'm here yet. But, eh, gonna deal with that later.”
“You’re ridiculous.”
“I had to be here. I couldn’t miss it.”
“What? The next concert? You're going?” Sana asked, though the answer was obvious.
“You. I couldn’t miss you.” Momo smiled. “And the concert, of course.”
“Since when did you know you were coming home early?”
“Two weeks ago.”
Sana scoffed in disbelief, but she was smiling nonetheless.
“So you really planned it like this?”
“Yeah. I missed you so much, Sana. More than I thought was humanly possible.” Momo was tracing a light pattern on Sana’s arm. Sana chuckled.
“And did the prank satisfy you?” Momo grinned, resting her forehead against Sana’s.
“What can I say? I had to make an entrance.”
Sana rolled her eyes, but she was melting into something more vulnerable, seeing Momo's eyes trained on hers so delicately. She sighs.
“I missed you too, Momo. So much.”
Momo moved her head forward, letting their noses brush together. Sana shuts her eyes, leaning into the contact as they rub their skins together.
“I know. I felt it even from far away.” Momo says, and Sana let out a breathy chuckle.
“That was so corny.”
“And you love it.”
“I do.”
Sana barely had time to register her own words before Momo leaned in, pressing the softest kiss to her lips—barely there, just enough to let Sana breathe her in, just enough to remind them both that they were here, together, and that Momo will still be there when she woke up.
“Let’s take a bath?” Sana murmurs.
“Yes please.”
If only time flew like a dove,
Well, God, make it fly faster than I'm falling in love.
Momo had barely been back for twenty-four hours, and she was already getting shoved by strangers.
Not in an aggressive way, of course. It was the kind that came with a lively and excited crowd. This was her choice, though, as per the talk she had with Sana earlier,
“You’re insane.” Sana had muttered before they left to head to the venue, arms crossed, standing in front of the mirror by the door.
“I wanna watch from the pit.” Momo had said, like it was an obvious thing, while putting on her shoes.
“You have an all-access pass.” Sana exasperated, “You could be on the side of the stage, sitting comfortably instead of getting crushed by people.”
“Where’s the fun in that?”
“You’re tired, Momo. You flew half the globe.”
“I wanna see you perform from the crowd. It's better there.” Momo just shrugged.
She was expecting another round of scolding, but instead, Sana sighed, walking over to stand in front of her. She reached for Momo’s hood, adjusting it unnecessarily, before trailing her fingers down, absentmindedly toying with the fabric above her stomach.
“Fine,” Sana rolled her eyes, “But if you get hurt, I'm telling you, Momo.”
“Then what? You’ll kiss me, won't you?”
Sana huffed, rolling her eyes even more, but before she could retaliate, Momo pressed a quick, playful kiss to her lips, effectively disarming her.
“I’ll see you from out there, superstar,”
And now, she was here, squished between two strangers with Chaeyoung headbands, waiting for the lights to dim and for the band to walk out onto the stage.
The crowd roared before she even saw her. It started as a murmur, a slight elevation in voices, and then—louder, all-consuming, until the ground beneath them felt like it was shaking.
Then, a flash of light,
And there she was.
Momo felt something stir in her chest. It had been months since she last saw Sana like this, under the glow of the stage, her presence commanding thousands in a single breath. Time always slowed when Sana performed, but tonight, it felt different—tonight, she wasn’t watching from a livestream, or from a distant time zone. Tonight, she was here. And Sana was here. And God, how did she ever survive without this?
They played through the first couple of songs, and Momo knew Sana hadn’t spotted her yet with that bad eyesight of hers. She would occasionally glance at the crowd, but her focus was on performing, on pouring her energy into every note, every lyric.
Then, halfway through the set, Sana paused, catching her breath between songs. The crowd simmered down just enough to hear her voice clearly. Sana grinned, wiping sweat from her forehead before leaning into the mic,
“Damn, you guys are loud tonight.”
The crowd erupted again, and Momo couldn’t help but laugh, watching Sana revel in the response.
“You know,” Sana continued, “We’ve been on this extended leg of the tour for a while now, and I always get so overwhelmed when I see you guys out here. Like, I don’t even know how to put it into words.”
“Marry me, Sana!” Someone from the crowd shouted, and the rest of them cheered. Sana chuckled into the mic.
“Yeah, I love you, all of you. But I can't marry everyone.”
Momo smiled.
“Also,” Sana went on, her eyes scanning the crowd. And then,
Sana's gaze landed on her.
Momo knew the exact moment it did, because Sana's breath visibly hitched—and she grinned, shaking her head in disbelief.
“Oh, you’ve got to be kidding me.”
The crowd probably didn’t know what she meant, with all of them twisting their bodies towards the whole put. But Momo knew.
“What are you doing all the way out there?” Sana called out, and Momo smiled shyly, putting her hoodie over her head and pulling the strings to tighten it around her face.
“My very lovely girlfriend is here, everyone.” Sana talks lowly into the mic.
And oh was the crowd deafening.
Momo only laughed, hiding her head more. The rest of the band were throwing heart signs over them, and even going to the far front of the stage to wave at Momo. She shyly waves back. Sana shook her head, grinning.
“I swear to God, you could be relaxing backstage, but nooo, you just had to be stubborn.” The crowd was going berserk, a lot of them looking for her, but even the two people beside her didn't know it was her that Sana was talking about.
“If anyone sees the woman in the black hoodie with a five night's at freddy’s print on the back, please, don't squish her.” Momo just laughs as Sana winks at her. After such, Sana cleared her throat, seemingly snapping herself back into performance mode. “Alright, let’s keep this going, shall we?”
The music kicked back in, the crowd roaring to life again, and Momo found herself lost in it all—the beat, the lights, the sound of Sana’s voice ringing through the night.
Time flew like a dove, she thought.
Because, right now, she was falling in love with Sana all over again.
And she never wanted the moment to end.
This time we're not giving up,
We'll make it last forever,
Screaming, “Hallelujah”
We'll make it last forever.
Momo could still feel the bass thumping through her chest even after the music had stopped. The adrenaline of the concert buzzed beneath her skin, mixing with the ache in her legs from standing with the crowd all night and coursing her way towards the backstage.
When she reached the back, Sana was still somewhere else, finishing up with the band and the crew. Momo was going to wait for her, but the second she stepped into the dressing room, she was met with an ambush.
“Ohhh, look who it is!” Momo barely had time to react before Jeongyeon slung an arm around her.
“Our VIP guest of the night!” Chaeyoung teased from the other side of the room, taking a long sip from a water bottle.
“How’d it feel getting publicly called out by the star herself?” Tzuyu went near Momo to give her a tap on the shoulder.
“You're lucky. Jeongyeon never does that to me.” From the door, Mina suddenly appears. Jeongyeon was about to protest, but Mina held a hand up to her, and she shut her mouth like some kind of spell was cast onto her.
“You weren't in the crowd. You’re not up to the challenge, you don't get the credit.” Momo quips, and welcomes Mina in a hug.
“How was the rest of the world?”
“No one to ask to get me coffee and carry my things, so, lame.” Momo says with a chuckle, “I mean, no offense, Jeong.”
“Hey, you make my princess suffer, I'll do the same to yours. I think that's fair.” Jeongyeon was pointing her eye-to-eye with two fingers jokingly.
“Alright, don't bully her.” A familiar voice cut in.
Momo turned just as Sana entered the room, looking slightly winded but glowing from the post-show high. Her hair was damp at the edges, and her skin still shimmered faintly with sweat, but the way she smiled at Momo made her forget everything else.
“I have the power to embarrass you on stage next time.” Sana shot Jeongyeon a playful glare before turning to Momo, “Hey, you. Got a second?”
Momo nodded immediately. Then, Sana grabbed her hand, leading her out of the dressing room, ignoring the wolf whistles and knowing laughter behind them. They didn’t stop walking until they found a quieter area, dimly lit and away from the post-show chaos. Momo leaned against the wall, arms crossing over her chest.
“Did you think I was distracting?”
“Did any of them tell you that?” Sana scoffed.
“Nope.” Momo shook her head with a grin, “Just didn't expect you'd spot me in the crowd.”
“I’m more perceptive than you think.” Sana had a curve up her lip, “And you were smirking, looking like you wanted to eat me alive.”
“I was happy to see my girlfriend performing. Sue me.” Sana rolled her eyes, but her smile was impossible to hide. Momo reached out, pulling her closer by the belt loop of her jeans.
“Admit it,” She murmured lowly, brushing a loose strand of hair behind Sana’s ear, “You liked seeing me in the crowd.” Sana’s breath hitched, just slightly.
“Shut up.”
Momo just chuckled. They stood there for a moment, letting the energy settle between them. The distant echoes of the crew packing up barely reached them.
“You know, I noticed something.” Momo broke the silence, and Sana raised a brow.
“Yeah?”
“You played the old bass parts of that song you and Chae wrote.”
“You noticed?”
“Of course I noticed,” Momo smiled, “I remember arranging for it. On other shows its different.” Momo says, and Sana's fingers were absentmindedly toying with the hem of Momo’s jacket.
“I asked Yeji to play your old bass parts.” Sana breathes, “I just… I wanted to keep it the way it was when we first wrote it. When you were still playing it. But over the last years it would make me crazy just hearing about it. So we changed it.”
Momo felt something tug deep in her ribs.
Three years ago, when everything fell apart, she never thought they’d get here—to this moment, standing in a quiet hallway, talking about it. Momo exhaled slowly, then smiled.
“You’re sentimental. You won't admit it.”
Sana scoffed, nudging her shoulder, “Says the one who noticed.”
They stood there, close and warm, hearts still racing from the concert, from the conversation, from everything.
“You know, I think the crowd really liked the part where you were mentioned.” Sana grinned.
“Eh, I guess.” Momo chuckles, “Did the fans even know you have a girlfriend before today?”
“You remember the picture of us making out in the car that circulated on twitter?” Momo groaned.
“Ugh.” Momo rolled her eyes, and Sana giggled, leaning in to press a quick kiss to Momo’s lips.
“Sorry, I'll be careful next time.”
“Nah, it's nice being the loser girlfriend of a popular hottie.” Sana only scoffed. But Momo settled into tugging her hand. “Say this loser girlfriend gives you a proper post-show celebration?”
Sana arched a brow, before slowly smirking knowingly.
“Mm? And what does that entail?” Sana was wiggling her brows up and down, and Momo shot her a flat look.
“Not the one you're thinking.”
Sana chuckled, lacing their fingers together as they walked out.
Holding on to patience wearing thin,
I can't force these eyes to see the end
If only time flew like a dove,
Well we could watch it fly,
And just keep looking up.
Intimate, fleeting.
Sana could feel it more than anyone.
With the way Momo’s hand had been resting on her thigh for the past ten minutes, fingers drawing patterns against the fabric of her jeans. A repetitive routine that Sana never learned to forget even if they were away from each other for months. Momo was always a subtle menace, anchoring her in the simplest way possible. And yet, it wasn’t practical.
“Momo, both hands on the wheel.” Sana sighs. Momo sing-songed a hum, but she didn’t move her hand. Sana glanced at her, catching the small, stubborn curve up her lip.
“Momo.” Momo pouted, a long and exaggerated huff.
“I can’t help it,” She pulled away to grip the steering wheel properly, “A lot of time passed without you next to me.”
Sana shook her head. A tiny, helpless smile playing on her lips.
“You can have me all to yourself later.” She says.
And Momo, being the good girlfriend she is, didn’t argue. But Sana could tell she wanted to. It was endearing more than anything.
The city slowly began to peel away around them, the curtain walled buildings dissolving into the horizon as open stretches of road took their place. The skyline melted into the golden haze of the late afternoon, the sun spilling over the asphalt like liquid light in the lightest yellow color. Sana turned her head slightly, letting the glow of it press against her cheek, the warmth of the sun from the windows putting up a small fight against the car's air-conditioning.
She had gotten used to driving alone these past months. It was strange, at first, not having Momo’s occasional hums filling the silence or the way she always reached out to adjust the volume of the music—always one level higher or lower than what Sana had set. It was ridiculous, really. Sana told herself she wouldn't drive again after that accident. But somehow, she felt naturally tied to it. Like it's only one of the few ways she could keep Momo by her side—by keeping her pink torus-knot throw pillow on the passenger seat of her Benz.
There were times when she found herself glancing at the empty passenger seat, half-expecting to see Momo’s nose scrunch attacking her when they'd get too mushy, or her fingers tapping against her knee and Sana doesn't have to tell her to put both hands on the wheel.
“I’ve been driving alone a lot since you weren’t here.”
“I know. I hated thinking about it.” Momo frowned, and Sana was giggling.
“What? You thought I was gonna crash again? You gotta put your trust on me, you know.”
“Then we should take turns on the wheel.” Sana whines, and Momo scoffs affectionately, rolling her eyes. “That’s what I thought.”
Sana smiled but didn’t respond, letting the moment stretch between them. The sun continued to dip, shifting from a light saturation to full-on soft amber. The kind of sky that felt like an ending and a beginning at the same time.
Sana reached out, fingers skimming over Momo’s knuckles where they gripped the gear stick. Momo turned her hand palm-up without hesitation, letting Sana’s fingers slide between hers, their hands pressing together lightly.
Sana just had to break her rule for a while. She couldn't help it when Momo looked so sweet and cozy.
There was something about this moment—about the way the world blurred past them, the road stretching ahead like it could go on forever and ever.
This time we're not giving up,
We'll make it last forever,
Screaming, “Hallelujah”
Let's make it last forever.
The sound of the car’s engine faded as Momo parked by the riverbank, cutting the ignition. There was something familiar about it—the way the water reflected the last embers of daylight, the distant hum of cicadas just starting to stir.
Or maybe because they were in a similar place three years ago—when Sana first began to see the holy in an equanimous college kid that wore nothing but hoodies and flannels, a supposed bassist-for-while making her feel wanted through mere stares in a way that she's never been wanted before.
And years after losses, she's still here, once again.
Sana stepped out, stretching, inhaling the crisp sun-setting air. Glancing at the rushing girl that happens to be her girlfriend—the love of her life.
Momo. Just Momo.
“So? What’s the plan?” Sana asks, and Momo only grins, circling to the back of the car.
“You’ll see.”
She popped open the trunk, revealing a neatly folded mattress with thick blankets and a pile of pillows shoved into one corner. Sana raised an eyebrow as Momo threw her arms dramatically into the air.
“Tada!”
Sana snorted.
“You’re adorable.” Sana giggles, “You do know I caught you snucking in a mattress earlier-”
“Ah, ah, ah!” Momo shushed her playfully, glancing at the setup with some sort of panic as she grabs one of the blankets to shake it out. “It just needs a little-”
“It’s nice. I love it.” Sana cut her off with a laugh, climbing up onto the mattress and bouncing slightly.
Momo shot her a smug look, but just as she was about to respond, one side of the hanging blanket slipped loose from where she had tried to secure it against the car frame.
“Oh shit! Wait, I- I got this…”
Sana watched, amused, as Momo scrambled to fix it, tying the fabric more securely this time. She looked so serious about it, brows furrowed in concentration, lips slightly pursed.
“Momo,” Sana called softly.
“Mm?”
Sana grabbed her by the collar of her shirt and pulled her in for a kiss. Momo let out a surprised yelp before melting into it, the tension in her shoulders easing instantly.
“Come here.” Sana smirked against her lips, and without another word, she tugged Momo down with her, landing onto the mattress to lie above Sana in a tangle of limbs and laughter.
“You are painfully adorable.” Sana breathes out.
“Yeah, I know.” Momo winks.
They fix their position, laying on their backs as the sky started showing its first traces of pink and lilac. The river was stretching endlessly beneath them, the moon just beginning to appear into existence.
They stayed there, with Momo setting up the meal she prepared for Sana, and a few snacks they bought on the way. The girl was ecstatic, buffing about how beautiful the taste of ‘home’ was melting into her tongue. She missed Momo's cooking more than anything—something she can't replicate for herself no matter how long she's lived alone.
And we've got time on our hands.
Got nothing but time on our hands,
Got nothing but, got nothing but
Got nothing but time on our hands.
Sana wasn’t sure when Momo had started touching her like this again.
It had begun with something small—Momo’s knuckles brushing against the back of her hand, but then, Momo did it again, and again, until their fingers were tangled together on the mattress beneath them, absentmindedly tracing over the dips and ridges of Sana’s palm.
Sana barely had a moment to react before Momo was pulling to kiss her—fervid, urgent, like there was more left to pour from the months they were away from each other.
And honestly, Sana couldn't get enough herself—the kiss was pure was heat, all-consuming and endless.
Momo’s hands slid up Sana’s sides, warm inside her shirt, fingertips ghosting over her ribs before pressing in. Sana gasped into her mouth, her own hands finding the base of Momo’s neck, tilting her head just right, deepening the kiss until neither of them could breathe properly.
Momo groaned softly when Sana tugged at her hoodie, pulling her closer, their bodies molding together in a mess of tangled limbs. She tilted her chin, chasing Sana’s lips, chasing her like she was something fleeting.
Sana had never felt so wanted.
Momo was kissing her like she was scared she might disappear again, and Sana kissed her back just as hard—desperate, knowing that this moment, this feeling, would have to last them long after tonight.
"God, Sana…” Momo exhaled a shaky breath, slipping one hand to Sana’s lower abdomen. Sana shivered, chest rising and falling against Momo’s.
"Yes?"
"I just…" Momo kept pressing another series of open-mouthed kisses down Sana’s jaw, to her pulse, to the curve of her neck. She breathed against her skin, voice trembling slightly, "I can’t get enough of you.”
Sana’s heart clenched painfully, warmth curling at her spine. She swallowed, running her hands over the planes of Momo’s back, memorizing every ridge, every dip.
"Then don’t stop." Sana whispered. Momo growled softly, nipping at Sana’s collarbone, and Sana gasped, arching against her.
Everything was becoming a blur—hands gripping, lips parting, breaths mixing, like time itself had stretched thin around them.
“Uh, wait…” Sana blinked up at her, chest rising and falling heavily, pulling Momo by the collar to chase her lips, but she doesn't catch it quite yet.
"Why?"
Momo exhaled shakily, forehead resting against Sana’s, their lips barely apart.
“Uh, well, before I make love to you,” Momo was saying each word breathlessly, and Sana raised her brows, equally out of air.
And then, Momo suddenly moved her torso past Sana—suddenly fumbling with something inside her bag. Sana watched impatiently but curiously, as Momo muttered a light curse under her breath, shuffling through compartments, pushing aside clothes and travel essentials.
“If you brought a strap, I'm totally into that.”
“Oh- I don't- but now I know next time I'll go get one, but-” Momo was stuttering, and it only stopped when she was able to retrieve something that she quickly hid behind her back.
“What's that?”
Momo was darting her eyes downwards, fiddling with one hand before speaking…
"Sana Minatozaki?"
The sudden, formal call of her name made Sana sit up straighter, her breathlessness turning into a warm kind of amusement.
“Yes?” She giggled playfully.
Momo exhaled, pulling something from behind her back.
A small box.
Sana gasped.
“Oh my god.” She whispered, staring at it, hands frozen in front of her mouth, unsure whether to reach for it or hold herself back. Her pulse thundered. Momo blinked rapidly.
“No, I’m- oh, no, wait. I won't ask you to marry me.”
“Excuse me?” Sana says in complete disbelief. Momo waved her hands frantically, eyes darting between Sana and the box.
“I meant not yet! Sorry! That was a bad way to word it!” She let out a nervous chuckle, rubbing the back of her neck as Sana finally released the breath she didn’t realize she was holding.
Then, suddenly, they were both laughing. A real, breathless kind of laughter that spilled between them, easing the tightness in Sana’s chest. Momo exhaled again, looking down at the box before flicking her eyes back up at Sana, a nervous, endearing flicker. Then, finally, she opened it.
“But it’s sort of a… promise ring,” Inside, a delicate silver band gleamed under the dim light of their small world tucked in the back of Momo’s car. It was simple, but its weight felt immeasurable, its meaning loud in the quiet between them.
“Oh, baby,” Sana's voice barely made it past her lips, “You’re really giving me this?”
Momo nodded. “I wanted to give this the moment I land, but we sorta got lost in each other,” Sana giggles, shaking her head with very clear memories, “So I was waiting for the right time.”
Sana was slowing into a pout—but it was nothing tied to sadness. But an overwhelming feeling overall.
“So now,” Momo continued, taking the ring out of the box, turning it between her fingers, “I know we don’t need a symbol, and I know this doesn’t change anything about how I feel for you. But still—” Momo reached for Sana’s hand, tracing over her knuckles. “I had something engraved, which you can see later. I want us to share this.”
“God, Momo.” Sana let out a breathy laugh, shaking her head in awe. She extended her hand, letting Momo slip the ring onto her finger.
It fit perfectly.
She twisted it lightly, watching the way it caught the faint light before turning her gaze back to Momo, heart swelling.
She had never needed anything more than the way Momo looked at her right now.
Sana lifted their hands, pressing her lips against Momo’s knuckles before using her turn to slip in the band in Momo's finger this time. She held it in hers for a quiet moment, staring at the way it fit perfectly in hers too. She couldn't help but place another kiss on her knuckles.
"Don't leave like that anymore, okay?" Sana whispers against them, eyes glancing up to Momo. The later smiles, brushing her thumb across Sana’s cheek.
“Never.”
Sana pulled back slightly, raising an eyebrow.
“Oh? Your work might need you again, you know. I was just kidding.”
“I meant for life. I won’t leave you for life.” Momo says in between a small laugh.
“Really?”
“Really.”
She leaned in, pressing a chaste, lingering kiss onto Sana’s lips.
“We’ll make it last forever.” Momo says. Sana's heart aches into a firm grip—painfully beautiful.
“I love you, Momo.”
Momo pulled her closer, their foreheads gently resting together, “I love you, Sana.”
Time will pass and slip through their fingers, definitely.
It once pushed them apart, pulled them back, spun them in circles. Cruel and large.
But time was also patient, and as it stretched infinitely before them.
But now,
They had nothing but time to hold onto now.
Notes:
The promise ring scene traces back into our universe—as we know, Sana and Momo have friendship rings that loosely translates to "The time now is precious", it perfectly fits them in this fic as well.
And, that ends here.
No words can describe how grateful I am for all the support throughout my first SaMo fic. You were all amazing and you have kept this going until the end. I hope this has brought you joy and good tears, and maybe something to learn as well! To all the current and future readers, our samonation, this work is truly yours.
Please do let me know your thoughts, and any improvements I can make as an author! A new SaMo fic is coming out—you'll get the first glimpse of it one of these days!
See you all again soon! Thank you for reading. :)
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Last Edited Thu 02 Jan 2025 09:43AM UTC
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