In Moments of Bloom

by Anonymous

Summary:

Snippets and fragments, seen and unseen, from across the ensemble of Late Bloomer. Moments held in passing, in silence, in bloom.

 

Or,

 

some familiar and some missing pieces from the perspectives of the ensemble cast of Late Bloomer because i can't let go of things apparently.

Chapter 1: A Hero Like Her

Summary:

In which Kim Dahyun fixates a little too hard on her superpowered co-worker who she had convinced herself was simply just a crush.

 

Or,

 

a look into the crush that never really got a chance to breathe amongst all the chaos.

Notes:

Late Bloomer fun fact #1: Initially, I was torn between a misana superhero au and a minayeon jennifer's body au. But i didn't have enough scenes that made sense for the jennifer's body au, so thats how Late bloomer came to be. I still have the jennifer's body scenes but they never really turned to anything because I can't write horror lol.

 

will be doing these little LB funfacts about the writing process to cope with the loss :) hope yall don't mind.

 

Enjoy!!!

 

 

The crush was really inevitable. Dahyun was just a regular girl after all. If any other girl were to get saved from an impeding hostile extraterrestrial kidnapping, surely they'd swoon a little bit, right?

 

 

 

 

And swoon she did.

 

 

 

Dahyun doesn’t remember much of that day— she’d dissociated most of it— up until the point Mina (which she later learned from Jihyo) flew straight through the Craxian warship she and a couple other female JYP employees were in. It was the day before her 20th birthday when it happened and she had just gotten into a new squad unit for patrol.

 

 

 

She barely remembered the moment the ship’s ceiling cracked open like paper— but she remembered the boots. Silver-stained. Steady. Landing beside her with the sound of something final. She remembered the way Mina didn’t look afraid underneath the hood of the cloak she wore that only partly concealed her face.

 

 

 

Then, she remembered her squad captain, Park Jihyo, barking out: "You fucking idiot! I told you not to come, they're going to arrest you!"

 

 

 

 

And she remembered being awed by the way Mina didn’t even flinch when three of the burly Craxian soldiers came bouldering towards her. She simply just grabbed them and shot through the ship's floor and into the Han River. Dahyn hadn’t understood what Jihyo meant about the arrest. Who would arrest the person helping them? Dahyun remembered the pitiful way she flushed when Mina, still a little wet,  loosened her bindings asking her if she was okay in the softest voice she had ever heard.

 

 

 

 

Later, when Dahyun saw Mina with some of her own superiors and Jihyo during a briefing, standing with her hands cuffed behind her back , it happened. The swoon. God, it was so embarrassing. How coud she not be? Mina looked so unbothered, like she didn’t just save fifteen plus women and destroy an alien vessel with her bare hands. Dahyun couldn't even give her statement on what happened because all she could focus on and question was why their savior was the one getting in trouble. Protocol, Captain Lee said. Utter bullshit, Jihyo had said. 

 

 

 

A week later, Dahyun was the one handling Mina's paperwork for her official join to JYP. It was totally not planned (it was). And she was totally chill about it (she was not). And when Dahyun asked her if there was a particular hero name she wanted to go under, Mina simply said she didn't have one in mind. 

 

 

 

"You're joking, right?" Dahyun's nerves were broken momentarily by her shock. 

 

 

 

Mina, while most of her face was covered by a nanotech cowl, smiled a little sheepishly. "Is it necessary?"

 

 

 

"Every hero needs one!"

 

 

 

"Hero?" Mina mused, tilting her head a little. "Is that what you'd call me?"

 

 

 

Dahyun's mouth dropped in even further shock. "Of course. You saved me, so in my books that makes you a hero!"

 

 

 

Mina regarded Dahyun for a long moment, enough so that Dahyun started squirming a little when she realized that maybe she had to tone down her excitement. She couldn't see Mina's eyes from behind her white out eye holes so she couldn't really tell what her expression was other than her lips being pinched to the side. She deflated in her seat, clearing her throat in attempt to rein in some of her excitement. She reminded herself to be professional. She wasn't a kid anymore. 

 

 

 

"Uhm, I mean, it's not a must, but like—"

 

 

 

"Do you have a name in mind?"

 

 

 

Dahyun didn’t even hesitate. "Torpedo."

 

 

 

"Torpedo...?"

 

 

 

"Yes," Dahyun nodded excitedly. "The way you shot through the ship without breaking a sweat reminded me of that. And the way you knocked them into Han river and managed  to come out of the water like nothing? Wow, its totally—" She caught herself when she realized she was getting too excitable again. "I mean, it fits, I think."

 

 

 

Dahyun's face scrunched up as she internally cringed at herself. She sounded like an annoying fangirl. And Mina probably thought the name was dumb anyway—

 

 

 

"Then I’ll go by that."

 

 

 

Dahyun’s heart did a weird little spin."Really?!"

 

 

 

"Yeah." And then, in the most heart-stopping gesture Dahyun had ever seen, Mina smiled— a little gummy and all beauty. Dahyun’s chest tightened all over again. "I think it’s pretty cool."

 

 

 

 

Now, seven years later, Dahyun couldn't remember the smell of the Craxian ship or the screams. But she remembered Mina’s voice saying ‘you’re okay now.’ Maybe that’s the reason she started crushing. Or maybe it was just easier to like someone who felt untouchable than deal with how touchable everything else was that day.

 

 

 

 

Regardless, Dahyun had managed to keep her swooning and flushing to a minimum over the years thankfully. They were technically partners now and she didn't want to make things awkward. She did slip up occasionally though. Like when Mina carried her to safety when the Lotte World Tower started collapsing and she nearly fainted when Mina's hands first went to Dahyun's waist. Then there was the time she’d briefly convinced herself her crush might actually have been reciprocated when Mina left her a cup of coffee once after they had a late night debriefing session. 

 

 

 

Her hopes were immediately dashed when she found out Mina had done that for the rest of their tired squad as well. But these were all small blips in the grand scheme of things and her crush was relatively contained. She had convinced her dumb brain that it was just idolization. Mina was just strong, cool and invincible and saved her. That was all it was. Something she doubted would bloom much further.

 

 

 

 

But then she saw Mina at one of her weakest points ever and she was forced to reckon with the fact that maybe it wasn't just idolization.

 

 

 

She hadn't even been on call that day. Just stopping by HQ on her day off to drop off some reports, when Agent Shin flagged her down: "Agent Torpedo, your friend... she collapsed in Training room 32."

 

 

 

Training room 32 was the Thilianite infused room... Dahyun didn’t think. She just ran. The door slid open and Mina was there, curled in on herself like something cornered and trembling. Her hair was plastered to her face, suit half-glitched, the sharp angles of pain too visible on a beautiful face Dahyun had never seen without the cowl. Or some sort of mask. 

 

 

 

 

She tried to reach out— really tried. But Mina snarled. Actually snarled. And Dahyun recoiled like she’d touched live wire. Not out of fear. Out of heartbreak. Because she had never seen Mina hurt this viscerally before. She rarely showed when she was in pain. Rarely needed help and all Dahyun could do was look on helplessly. 

 

 

 

 

But then Mina sobered up enough to recognize Dahyun. Told her she was misfiring and had been having dreams for a while. That Thilians didn't menstruate so it wasn't amenorrhea. Mina let Dahyun question her. Let her help.

 

 

 

She let Dahyun in. Deactivated her suit. Bared her arm. She looked like she might pass out, or punch through a wall, or both. And Dahyun had never felt more trusted, or more undeserving of that trust, in her life. And for a moment Dahyun felt special, because Mina— the formidable woman she was— actually needed Dahyun's help! Actually trusted this vulnerable part of herself with Dahyun.

 

 

 

And something deep stirred in her chest. Something she knew she’d never recover from — at least, not in any normal way. For the first time, Dahyun had felt like the person someone like Mina could need. Could trust. Could reach for.

 

 

 

But then Mina asked for Jihyo. 

 

 

 

Of course she asked for Jihyo. Of course. Dahyun wasn’t important. She just happened to be there and something cracked in her chest a little as she gave over the test results to Jihyo. The crack was just wide enough for her to admit— yeah, maybe this wasn’t just some fangirl-style idolization after all.

 

 

 

 

Mina got better. Things went back to normal, they were just coworkers again. But Dahyun never forgot what it felt like to be the person someone invincible trusted just once with their breaking point. Even if it didn’t last.

 

 

 

But there were other moments where Dahyun was faced with the enormity of her crush, too. The bad ones. The terrifying ones. Like the day the world nearly ended in smoke and ashes and a battered looking woman landed in front of Dahyun and her squad holding Mina’s limp body. Mina's unmoving body.

 

 

 

She was steaming a little, covered in soot, pulse gone, face slack. Dahyun's heart had withered that day. And she remembered thinking no, not this. Not in a stranger’s arms. Not while she was still shaking from the terror that came with warding off the hostile extraterrestrials and couldn’t do a damn thing but bark orders and pray to every god she believed in that Mina would survive.

 

 

 

 

The crush should’ve died then, she thought. Should’ve shattered on impact once the hero idolization failed. Once she realized that Mina was not invincible. That she bleed and broke just like anyone else. But instead, it buried itself even deeper— into the part of her that clenched when she saw how gently the woman held Mina. How desperately she begged for help.

 

 

 

It wasn’t just hero worship. Not anymore. It hadn’t been for a long time.

 

 

 

And she had come to accept that as she handed Mina over to Jihyo after stabilizing her just enough to get an echo of a pulse. Jihyo had told her that she'd let Dahyun know when Mina would be stable enough to get visitors. 

 

 

 

She busied herself with crisis management as he awaited Jihyo's call. Worked everyday. Cleaned up the messes. Barely slept because all she could see in her dreams was the mangled body of the hero she loved so much.

 

 

 

 

Dahyun began wondering if maybe it wasn't such a good idea to have been partners after all. Because now she knew what type of person Mina actually was. Knew how kind and selfless she was. Knew how smart and how hard Mina would work to figure out JYP's issues on her own because she didn't want to trouble anyone. Didn't want others to be needlessly harmed. 

 

 

 

If only she had just admired Mina from a distance and never learnt anything about her. About the way her laugh sounded. About the gentle way she touched and approached anything. Then maybe she wouldn't have been so hung up her health and safety. Because now it wasn't just Torpedo, her hero, that she was worried for. Now it was just Mina, her softhearted colleague, too.

 

 

 

When Jihyo eventually called her, the first thing Dahyun had done was get a bouquet on her way. Her heart leapt at the thought of being the first one there— of maybe sitting with Mina before anyone else came.

 

 

 

 

But when she turned the corner of the private medbay, she froze. From the window attached to the door, Dahyun could see a woman already sitting next to Mina's stasis pod. Something was indistinctly familiar about her that Dahyun couldn't exactly name. The woman was gorgeous. Even in her sweats, messily tousled light brown hair and puffy eyes, Dahyun could tell that much. The woman had her hand on the glass covering of the stasis pod and she stared at it unseeingly. 

 

 

 

 

Dahyun only realized that she was standing too long outside just observing the woman when she felt Jihyo put a gentle hand on her elbow. Dahyun's throat tightened when she met Jihyo's look. It was almost pitying. 

 

 

 

 

"She's... the one who brought Mina to me, isn't she?" Dahyun guessed, the longer she stared at the almost reverent way the woman held onto the glass.

 

 

 

Jihyo's hand slid up to Dahyun's shoulder. Squeezed once and let go. "Yeah. She's Mina's girlfriend."

 

 

 

Dahyun felt like all the air had just knocked from her lungs. Her hold on the bouquet tightened slightly. Her eyes stung for no conceivable reason so she focused on the bouquet instead. Tulips. Mina had mentioned liking it once. It reminded her of some flowers from her home planet, she had said in passing. 

 

 

 

Dahyun blinked the burn away. "She Thilian too?"

 

 

 

 

"What makes you think that?"

 

 

 

 

Dahyun remembered the way the woman landed in front of her with Mina clutched in her arms like she weighed nothing but a feather. "Lucky guess."

 

 

 

Jihyo just tilted her head to the side, eyes measuring. "You going to report it?"

 

 

 

She was obligated to, and Jihyo knew that. She herself had taken the same oath when she still worked for JYP, so Dahyun knew she was being tested. Even if she wasn't aware that she was being tested, Dahyun's answer would've remained the same.

 

 

 

"No." 

 

 

 

 

Jihyo nodded again, the slight uptick in her lips giving away the fact that she was impressed. Dahyun just turned back to watching the other woman, clutching the bouquet to her chest. Even if it felt like the crack in her heart had just fractured into a million other micro cracks, she was happy that Mina had actually managed to find someone from her home planet. She knew how lonely the other woman had been without a connection to her past life. 

 

 

 

Even if she was happy for Mina though, and glad that she was at least stable, Dahyun felt like an outsider all of a sudden. Like there was no space for her. She didn't want to intrude on their moment, so she gave to bouquet to Jihyo and hurried out of the labs before the sting behind her eyes settled and her first tears could properly fall. 

 

 

 

Dahyun knew she wouldn’t be the one Mina woke up asking for. And that was okay. Love didn’t always need to be seen to be real. Sometimes, it just needed to be carried— quietly, fiercely— like a bouquet of flowers you never got to give. It was going to be hell attempting to act normal once Mina eventually got back to her hero duties. But Dahyun had always been told she was a good actress, so perhaps she could put that to good use.

 

 

 

 

Even if she'd never be able to say those three particular words out loud, she still called Mina Torpedo in her head at least. It was still hers, the name she had given even if Mina belonged to someone else now. And maybe that was enough. Knowing she had been there at the start, that she had named the woman who could split a warship in two and still smile like the sun breaking through clouds.

 

 

 

 

She could live with loving Mina in silence, as long as she still got to call her Torpedo in her heart.

 

 

 

Chapter 2: Thorns and All

Summary:

In which Nayeon is forced to accept that maybe what she has with Momo is deeper than she convinced herself it was.

 

Or,

 

a look into namo's treacherous attempts at loving each other.

Notes:

Late Bloomer fun fact #2: Namosa were supposed to be a part of an organization against JYP. Not quite the bad guys, but not on JYP's side either. Scraped the idea because that felt like too much political intrigue involved since I'd probably have to dissect JYP's morals and ethics as an organization. And I went nope, I just wanted to write about women being downbad for each other lol.

 

Enjoy!!!

 

 

The world as she knew it nearly ended on a random Thursday afternoon... and Nayeon only found about an hour into it when she got the evacuation notices.

 

 

 

 

She rang Momo and Sana's earpieces, and came up empty all five times. She tried not to panic, really tried, but she couldn’t help pacing in her personal labs in Gangdong when she got to it. The residents of Seoul were told to make their way to their various district safety shelters, but Nayeon ignored that. Her labs was after all the safest place to be. No silly alien scum would change that fact.

 

 

 

Nayeon had just finished recalibrating the stabilizer coils of one of her machines while on her fourth cup of coffee when the lab door nearly blew off its hinges. She didn’t flinch. Not at first. Not until she saw who came through. Momo, staggering like a glitching mech, one arm wrapped around Sana’s limp body, the other dragging something that looked suspiciously like a cauterized wound across her ribs. Blood, Momo’s, slicked the floor in a messy trail behind them. Nayeon blinked once. Twice.

 

 

 

Nayeon’s eyes flicked toward the door, half-expecting Mina to stumble in next. She didn’t. There was no second shadow. Just Momo. Just Sana. No Mina. Something about that fact made her stomach clench. 

 

 

 

 

"What the fuck... Momo?" she asked, voice cracking halfway through. "Is she—"

 

 

 

"Sedated," Momo gasped, like she struggled to get air into her lungs, dropping to her knees. "Just... help her first. She was hyperventilating."

 

 

 

 

Nayeon’s body moved before her brain did. She slammed the emergency override on the table console, shoved aside a tray of prototypes, and cleared space with one sharp sweep of her arm. Momo didn’t say another word, just eased Sana’s body down like she was made of glass, then dropped beside the table with a choked sound Nayeon couldn’t begin to parse.

 

 

 

Sana looked bad. Dust streaked her cheeks, her lips were cut and pale, and her suit was shredded in places that suggested way too much proximity to plasma. But her pulse was steady. Thready, but there. Nayeon set her up to the vitals monitor. 

 

 

 

 

"She’s stable," Nayeon muttered, more for herself than anyone else. "Whatever hit her, it didn’t hit vital." She reached for the anti-toxin drip. "Why was she hyperventilating?"

 

 

 

Momo didn’t respond. Nayeon looked up and—

 

 

 

Her brain glitched at what she saw.

 

 

 

Momo had slumped against the cabinet, one hand clutching her side, the other slack in her lap. Her entire left arm was burned, not deep enough to scar but blistered red through torn fabric of her suit. The suit Nayeon had created to be impenetrable. And blood, her blood, pooled dark against her ribs, soaking into the seams of her tattered cape that was tied around her body like a blanket. 

 

 

 

Nayeon froze. Her creations had been torn. The same creations she had set to keep these two buffoons in one piece.

 

 

 

For a moment, all she could hear was the whine of the stabilizer coil still spinning uselessly on the far table. Momo was hurt. Properly hurt. Breathing like she’d run through hell. And Nayeon—

 

 

 

She didn’t know what to do with the sight of her like this.

 

 

 

Momo never got hurt. That was the rule. The unspoken, infuriating rule of their whatever-it-was. Nayeon could rage and snap and push and claw and Momo would still show up the next day, dumb grin, maybe an apology in her hand if she thought Nayeon deserved one. But this... this was blood. This was damage. This was proof she could break.

 

 

 

 

Sana's vitals monitor let out a sharp beep. Nayeon’s head snapped toward it, only to find it still steady. Her throat felt tighter.

 

 

 

"Shit," Nayeon breathed, kneeling beside Momo. She ripped open the med kit and pressed gauze against the wound. "You didn’t think to mention you were bleeding out?"

 

 

 

 

Momo cracked open her eyes barely. "Didn’t wanna freak you out."

 

 

 

"You think this isn’t freaking me out?"

 

 

 

 

"I'm sorry." Momo attempted to sit more upright but winced the entire way, blinking. "I could've been worse."

 

 

 

Nayeon’s heart leapt out of her chest. "The fuck you mean by 'could've been worse'?"

 

 

 

"Two ship things rammed into either side of me. I definitely messed up some of my ribs." Momo took a shaky breath. "Then this freakishly tall thing latched onto me like it wanted to tear me apart. I blacked out a little, but I remember hearing Mina. Think she saved me and put me somewhere safe because I was covered with my cape when I woke up." 

 

 

 

 

"What happened to her?"

 

 

 

 

Momo’s face crumbled, but not with pain. "She... she flew into the mothership. I don't know what she did exactly, but she blew it up from the inside out. Sana was the one who caught her when she fell."

 

 

 

 

"Where is she now?"

 

 

 

 

"JYP took her somewhere. I tried following but I started bleeding too much."

 

 

 

 

"Is she...?" Nayeon swallowed, hard, unable to finish the sentence. 

 

 

 

Momo’s eyes watered. "I... I don't know."

 

 

 

Fuck. Fuck! Nayeon felt like screaming. Everything was so royally screwed up that she didn't even know what to focus on first. Her thoughts briefly flitted to Jihyo, and what she'd think about her sister possibly being dead. What might've happened to Sana now that her mate or whatever she called it, might've been dead. She instead focused on patching up the bleeding Momo as best she could. Everything else could wait.

 

 

 

 

Eventually Momo glanced over to Sana once Nayeon got her on a different table and hooked them both up to monitors and IV drips. "She’s okay?"

 

 

 

"She will be.”

 

 

 

 

That earned a slow nod. Then Momo’s eyes fluttered closed again, and her head lolled back against the wall of the table she was on. Nayeon inserted her drip with the painkillers before Momo completely fell off. "Will the painkillers knock me out?"

 

 

 

"Dont ask me dumb fucking questions." Nayeon snapped as she laid Momo down on her back, prying the melted pieces of suit from her arm. "You're about to knock out anyway."

 

 

 

"Wake me up if she starts hyperventilating again." 

 

 

 

Nayeon wrapped up Momo’s hurt arm once she cleaned it enough. "Are you stupid? You need your—"

 

 

 

"Please," Momo opened her eyes again, and it was then that Nayeon realized a few tears had slipped passed her eyelashes. Nayeon froze,  bloody gauze in her hands the only thing she could feel holding her upright. "I need be awake when she's like that. She... she was wrecked, Nayeon. She said she felt Mina disappear."

 

 

 

 

That was what truly stopped Nayeon's heart entirely. She had never seen neither Momo nor Sana cry before, even when they were harmed and she had no idea what to do when they got vulnerable like this. She had joked about them being emotionally constipated for years because of that, but seeing it now, made her stomach recoil so hard she worried she were about to throw up.

 

 

 

She sat there watching Momo silently cry for a few seconds. Maybe minutes. Long enough for the adrenaline to fade and the noise in her head to quiet into something far worse— thought. And with thought came guilt. The kind of guilt that yelled in her head and called her a monster for snapping at someone who didn't deserve it.

 

 

 

 

All the venom and bite in Nayeon’s words faded immediately. Swallowing hard, she just nodded, agreeing to the needlessly selfless proposition. Pleased, Momo closed her eyes again, looking restful as the effects of the drip got to her.

 

 

 

Nayeon stayed at her table longer than she meant to, her fingers pressed to Momo’s wrist just to feel her pulse, just to be reminded that Momo was indeed,  just sleeping.

 

 

 

It was only after she redid both Momo and Sana's IV's, gave Sana another sedative after she woke up screaming, pried their burnt suits off their bodies and bandaged up what she could that she really allowed her thoughts to really breathe. Allowed the weight of everything that just transpired to settle down on her bones as she sat on a stool in the corner, watching the two most important people in her life half dead on two sterile steel tables.

 

 

 

These two losers were never supposed to mean this much to her, but they did, and Nayeon felt sick to her stomach. How had she gotten attached to a sharp-tongued strategist and a knuckleheaded brute who bulldozed her way through every moment?

 

 

 

Nayeon cried. She wasn't sure why, she just did. Right there in the middle of her labs, thinking of everything she was going to say to these idiots when they woke up eventually. Her own hands wouldn’t stop shaking but she didn’t make any effort to stabilize them.

 

 

 

 

The lab was quiet again, except for Sana’s steady breaths and the low beep of the vitals monitors. It should’ve felt like relief. It didn’t. She wanted to yell at them both all of a sudden. But neither of them were in the state to respond and not receiving a response likely would've broken her limited composure. That was her problem, really.

 

 

 

Nayeon was by all accounts, an argumentative person: She had been when she was a child. Had been when she was a teen. Had been even in her adulthood. Some might've even called her a little mean if you asked the right people. 

 

 

 

 

She doesn't know exactly how or why it started, but she was smart and knew how to talk so it was probably that. Sometimes her arguments were valid. Sometimes not. But everytime they were meant to prompt some type of reaction out of someone.

 

 

 

 

It was the only time she really felt anything intensely in the way that got her heart pumping and she'd get such a rush coursing through her veins. It felt like she was high and walking on clouds. It felt like it's own form of verbal affection, because at least the other person still put in the effort to continue the argument, no matter how silly. It was the type of affection she'd never be able to ask for on her own.

 

 

 

 

Her family just left her alone and waited for her to 'get over it' whenever they got into arguments and she hated them a little for it. She hated how it made her feel. Made her feel like she were just something that needed to be swatted away and checked on occasionally. Expendable. 

 

 

 

 

But neither Momo nor Sana made her feel expendable. Sana bit back, calling out her bullshit without quite veering into mean or spiteful. And Momo... well, she didn't do any of that, Nayeon doubted she even knew how. She just took the hits. She just absorbed and stayed. And now here she was, half dead on Nayeon’s table. Still showing up and absorbing Nayeon’s words.

 

 

 

 

She used to think she loved people too hard. Argued because it was the only language she knew how to use without choking. When people pushed back, it felt like proof — proof she mattered enough to anger. To hold on to. When they didn’t… she felt like a passing thought. A gnat in someone else’s sky. 

 

 

 

She felt very much like a gnat right now, just orbiting the flickering lights of these two women, hoping they stayed up long enough for her to breathe properly. So that she could call them stupid to their faces.

 

 

 

Her thoughts drifted to Mina briefly again and the coiling in her stomach felt worse. She didn't know how Sana would've reacted when she eventually woke up. Momo had said Sana was wrecked,  and while Nayeon could only imagine what that entailed, she knew that if Mina didn't come out okay, Sana would never be the same again. She might not have realized it yet, but Sana was painfully in love with the other woman. And Nayeon knew why.

 

 

 

To just remind herself that Sana was okay, Nayeon adjusted Sana’s drip, the steady rise and fall of her chest the only thing keeping her own breathing steady. She stared at her bruised face for a moment, imagining what she might've felt when Mina did whatever it was what she did.

 

 

 

The first time Nayeon met Mina, she immediately knew that Sana would never be able to stick to her resolve of 'staying friends'. She was just bullshitting herself. 

 

 

 

They had met because Momo invited Mina over for dinner and Nayeon already had a list of things she planned to tease on. A list of things she had planned to playfully jab on. She had known Mina was related to Jihyo through some subtle digging, so she figured Mina would've been able to take the jabs. One cannot be related to a firecracker like Park Jihyo and then not be able to take some verbal heat. 

 

 

 

But then Nayeon looked into Mina's dark nervous puppy-like eyes and everything she had planned to say dissipated. The feeling only intensified when she heard Mina speak for the first time and it came out so soft and careful. Like she was scared of saying the wrong thing and offending Nayeon somehow. Like she actually cared about what Nayeon might've felt. And she just... couldn't be mean. Even playfully.  Nayeon was probably her nicest whenever she were around Mina. She didn’t quite get it. Maybe Mina just had that odd effect. And Nayeon immediately knew that she was perfect for Sana.

 

 

 

 

Because Sana, whether she was aware of it or not, needed someone nice and soft. Someone who would let her sink her claws into them and latch onto forever like a parasite. That's where Nayeon and Sana's primary difference laid: Nayeon never wanted or needed soft. She didn’t want to latch on. She wanted to prick. And she needed someone who'd prick her back with equal measure till they were two bleeding fools licking each other's wounds.

 

 

 

 

That was what she thought she needed. That was what she thought real love was. If someone could stay and yell in your face even when you were saying horrible things to them... surely that must be love, right? Because they cared enough to fight. Cared enough to stay. She wanted that. It was what she thought she would've gotten from Jihyo, but clearly she misread the other woman and overstepped in ways she could never take back— and now Jihyo hated her for it.

 

 

 

And Momo, the big dumb oaf that she was, didn't prick. No, she just shoved back. Called her insane. Called her too much. And Nayeon didn't understand why she wanted Momo so much.  It wasn't the love she thought she needed. Momo didn’t even yell so she couldn't understand why she was so stuck on her.

 

 

 

 

Maybe it was because Momo held on even while calling her insane. Held on even when Nayeon shoved her back. She just didn't go away. Even when Nayeon wanted her to. Momo didn’t argue. Momo didn’t run. She just stayed. Maybe that was the problem. 

 

 

 

Or maybe… maybe that was the point.

 

 

 

Nayeon moved her stool over to Momo’s table, and did something she had never done before: she took a hold of Momo’s hand and entwined their fingers.

 

 

 

 

The gesture felt much too soft for someone as prickly as her. Im Nayeon was not soft. Not sweet. Not anything of the sort. But goddamn Momo and her big racoon like eyes. Goddamn her big nonsensical mouth that said bullshit like how she'd never leave Nayeon because they were technically married by her planet's customs. 

 

 

 

Momo murmured something in her sleep— incoherent, but soft. And her hand tightened around Nayeon's like a reflex. Like she knew who was still there. And Nayeon, well, she felt something in her chest stir. She supposed it was love. Supposed it was the reason felt like she were suffocating. 

 

 

 

She didn’t know what she thought love was supposed to feel like. She had only been in love once before and it was nothing like this. Nothing this overbearing and constant. But she just knew this was the first time she was scared of losing it. She leaned her head back against the wall. Exhaled.

 

 

 

"Please don’t fucking die." she whispered. "I love you, idiot."

 

 

 

 

Almost as though to answer her, Momo squeezed her hand in her sleep and Nayeon exhaled a deep breath. She blinked around her lab again. This was supposed to be the safest place on earth but the air suddenly felt so fragile as she breathed it in. She wasn't sure how long she sat there, just listening to the vital monitors, Momo’s breathing and Sana's rustling. It could've been minutes. Hours. Maybe even forever.

 

 

 

 

But eventually Momo stirred.

 

 

 

A low groan slipped from her cracked lips as her eyelids fluttered, disoriented as she shifted on her side to blearily looked at her. Nayeon didn’t move— didn’t even pretend to pull her hand back in time despite everything in her wanting to recoil at the exposure. Momo’s brow furrowed, eyes cracking open just enough to squint at their joined hands. But she surprisingly didn't let go.

 

 

 

 

"Are you…" Her voice was hoarse. "...holding my hand?"

 

 

 

"Don’t make it weird," Nayeon muttered, not letting go. 

 

 

 

Her face felt warm, which she adamantly decided to ignore. Goddammit. She was embarrassing. She's literally seen Momo naked more times than she could count yet this felt like too much.

 

 

 

 

Momo blinked slowly, like she couldn't believe what she was seeing. "Did I… die?"

 

 

 

 

"Almost," Nayeon said flatly. "And then you broke into my lab and dumped a sedated Sana on the floor, so congratulations. Both of you are still annoying."

 

 

 

 

Momo managed a faint smile and Nayeon hated the way it unclenched the tight coil in the pit of her stomach. "Sounds like us, yeah."

 

 

 

Nayeon exhaled through her nose. "Also, we’re dating again. Just so you know."

 

 

 

 

That made Momo pause. Her eyes focused, wet bangs getting a little in her eyes, trying to see if Nayeon was joking. "Really?"

 

 

 

Nayeon used her free hand to move Momo’s sticky bangs from her eyes, touch light. "Yeah."

 

 

 

Momo’s smile widened just a fraction even if she did wince a little because of the cuts and bruises on her face. "Okay… Cool."

 

 

 

"You don’t get a vote," Nayeon added for good measure, heart thundering in her ears. "I already decided."

 

 

 

"Still cool." Momo stared at her for a moment, her dark eyes getting all soft in that way Nayeon hated because of how it made her stomach swoop. "I missed you, Nochtli."

 

 

 

Nayeon just grumbled, keeping her eyes focused on their entwined hands instead. Anything else would've prompted tears she wasn't in mood of explaining. Part of her wanted to point out that they still saw each other regularly, even if they weren't dating so Momo had no business missing her. Nayeon was these two idiots primary physician after all, but she allowed the words to settle between them.

 

 

 

 

Allowed Momo to be grossly sweet for a moment. But she hated that her heart still jumped whenever Momo called her that dumb petname. Momo had said once that it was the Zermese word for bunny. But Nayeon knew better than to to trust her. Sana had told her that it was a term of endearment used by mated Zertmite couples. For some reason she didn't hate that thought as much anymore.

 

 

 

 

Momo’s eyes started to close again, and admittedly Nayeon panicked again even though the vitals were steadily moving on the monitor. 

 

 

 

"Hey," Nayeon muttered, still staring at their hands. "If you die now I’m revoking the dating privileges."

 

Momo huffed a snort. "That’s fine. I already got what I wanted."

 

 

 

"Which was?"

 

 

 

"You holding my hand."

 

 

 

 

Nayeon looked away, scowling, face aflame. "Gross. You’re gross and corny."

 

 

 

 

Momo didn’t answer. She was already asleep again— smiling faintly. 

 

 

 

 

Nayeon sat there, fingers tangled with Momo’s, and for once, she didn’t want to pull away. Didn’t want to argue. Didn’t snark. Maybe that was the problem. Or maybe it was the point. Love didn’t need to be prickly to be real. They didn’t need to make each other hurt to make each other feel. It was still a mess, yes, but she'd rather have this than not have it at all. So yeah, she was stuck with this. All of it.

 

 

 

 

And, well… she supposed that was okay.

 

 

 

Chapter 3: Heatwave

Summary:

In which Jihyo fixes up Jeongyeon's AC unit during a heatwave and somehow confessions ensue.

 

Or,

 

some self-indulgent jeonghyo from before all the chaos.

Notes:

Late Bloomer fun fact #3: My initial idea was to have 3mix or misamo be a polycule but I chickened out because I doubted my ability to write good poly lol. Feel I could've make it work now tho.

 

Enjoy!!

 

If there was one thing her girlfriend was, it was stubborn. And perhaps a little too self-reliant and competent in things she had no right even being competent in to begin with. 

 

 

 

 

Jeongyeon blinked sweat out of her eyes and watched as Jihyo— sleeves rolled, toolbelt cinched too tight around her hips— scaled a wobbly stepladder in Jeongyeon's livingroom like she was about to face God himself. Or the dying AC unit. Which, in this apartment, probably counted as the same thing.

 

 

 

The fan was broken. The air conditioning was worse than broken— it had taken to making choking noises at 3 a.m., like it was trying to confess something and giving up halfway through. And Jeongyeon had just about given up on it entirely after she had ranted about it to Chaeyoung and Jihyo one day. The latter, whom had taken it upon herself to play electrician. 

 

 

 

Jeongyeon could’ve sworn the heat was starting to make her hallucinate. Case in point: she was pretty sure Jihyo had just pulled a stepladder out of nowhere like some kind of sexy pocket dimension. Complete with a utility belt she absolutely did not own two days ago.

 

 

 

 

"You know we could just call maintenance," Jeongyeon said, watching from the kitchen as Jihyo climbed up the top rung with that terrifying, stubborn confidence she had about all things. Like gravity and falling were other people’s problems. Perhaps it was. Reality seemed to work differently for Park Jihyo. 

 

 

 

 

Jihyo, armed with pliers and purpose, barely glanced down. "And wait a solid hour if not more for them to lift their lazy asses up here? Nah. I got this."

 

 

 

Jeongyeon propped her chin in her hand, squinting into the sunlight filtering through her dusty blinds. "I’m just saying. There are professionals for this."

 

 

 

"Yeah. Me."

 

 

 

"You’re a biophysics major, not an HVAC technician."

 

 

 

 

"I’m a woman of many talents. Trust." Jihyo shot back, squinting up into the guts of the wall unit. A screwdriver spun lazily between her fingers.

 

 

 

 

Trust her to look hot while actively trying to kill herself with exposed wiring. Jeongyeon didn’t know what to do with that, so she did nothing— just kept watching the love of her life try to win an argument with an appliance. And if her heart skipped a little? Well. She’d blame the heat.

 

 

 

 

Park Jihyo was honestly an enigma of a woman, that much she could say in the two years that they had known each other this far. Only she could get away with opening a neighbor greeting with: 'Fair warning, I'm in a borderline codependent relationship with my sister, if you want to be friends with me you'd have to be friends with her too.' and then proceed to introduce said sister.

 

 

 

 

Jeongyeon had been so shocked the at the time all she could really do was laugh as she shook both the sister's hands and welcomed them the shitty apartment complex she called home. 

 

 

 

 

A year ago, when Jeongyeon finally cracked and asked Jihyo out for a date, she had jokingly asked if that would mean she would be dating Mina too... The joke did not land well. But hey, she had a hot if not slightly unhinged girlfriend now! And they were still going strong. She was at least doing something right.

 

 

 

 

"Don’t hurt yourself," Jeongyeon eventually said, mostly to distract from the fond twist in her gut. "Though, I’ve gotta say, the Rosie the Riveter thing? Kinda working for me."

 

 

 

 

Jihyo turned her head just enough to raise an unimpressed eyebrow. The red bandana she’d tied to hold her hair back was already darkening with sweat at the temples, and Jeongyeon feared Jihyo's threats of cutting her hair to a bob might’ve come true if the frustrated way she kept pushing her hair back was anything to go by. Her skin glowed faintly in the oppressive heat, sharp with focus, muscle memory, sheer willpower. Jeongyeon wanted to frame the moment and hang it above her bed. 

 

 

 

 

Jihyo looked a little ridiculous, a little heroic, and completely unaware of how heart-stopping she was like this; focused, flushed, and brows pinched together forming a line as the panel refused to come loose. Oh how she loved that little line that formed between her brows whenever Jihyo scowled, frowned or glared. Of which she did often. She swore Jihyo was in a perpetual state of 'pissed off', even when she in unhinged scientist mode.

 

 

 

 

Jeongyeon tried not to sigh too obviously. Or too dreamily. Her cereal was getting soggy.

 

 

 

 

"I didn’t know you were an electrician too." she added lightly, just to shake herself out of the little starry-eyed bubble Jihyo often times had her stuck in. "Full-time student, part-time badass agent, and now electrician? Quite the roster, I must say."

 

 

 

 

 

"No compensation needed, by the way," Jihyo muttered, completely ignoring whatever nonsense Jeongyeon was spewing, as she adjusted a loose panel. "In case you’re wondering."

 

 

 

 

 

Jeongyeon fluttered her lashes. "Not even a kiss? Some light worship, maybe?"

 

 

 

 

Jihyo didn’t dignify that with a response.
Then she added, almost too quickly "Also, I’m not doing this for you. Our units are connected, so if this one’s busted, mine will follow soon. And Mina gets grumpy when its hot like this."

 

 

 

 

 

That was a lie. Mina, from the time Jeongyeon had known her, didn't so much as sigh whenever she were frustrated. Didn't let her frustrations out on anyone either, especially not Jihyo. It was clear Jihyo was straight up pulling stuff out of her ass now. And Jeongyeon couldn't resist pressing on it, as she always did.

 

 

 

 

 

"Keep lying to yourself, babe." Jeongyeon grinned, heart stupidly soft. She should've ended it there, really.  Her brain had attempted to cut her off but like most things involving Park Jihyo, she lost her composure a little. Her next words came out her mouth before she could stop them. "You’re so doing it for me. You love me too much not to."

 

 

 

 

 

And just like that, the air got heavier. Not from the heat this time.

 

 

 

 

Jihyo froze mid-turn. Jeongyeon felt her own words settle around them like static, too warm and too true. Shit. This was some uncharted territory. Even if Jeongyeon was fairly certain what her own emotions were; that she would never love anyone more than she did Jihyo, she didn't want to make things awkward. That was the one thing their relationship never was and she didn't want that to change. Goddamn her big gloating mouth.

 

 

 

 

 

It really wasn’t supposed to come out. Or maybe it was. Jeongyeon didn’t really know anymore. She loved her— God, she loved her. In all the big, dramatic, inconvenient ways. She just… wasn’t supposed to say it. Not out loud. Not in the middle of a heatwave when Jihyo had a screwdriver in her hand and the sharpest mind Jeongyeon had ever fallen for. So she'd course correct.

 

 

 

 

"Uh, let’s just pretend—"

 

 

 

 

"Actually," Jihyo cut her off. She twisted at the waist to look down at her, head nearly brushing the ceiling. "I do."

 

 

 

 

Jeongyeon blinked. She must've not heard correctly. "What?"

 

 

 

 

"Are you deaf?"Jihyo squinted, irritation and honesty warping her features into something heartbreakingly beautiful. That adorable line Jeongyeon loved so much making it's reappearance between her brows. "I said I fucking love you, Yoo Jeongyeon."

 

 

 

 

Time didn’t stop but wow... Jeongyeon’s brain sure as hell did.

 

 

 

 

 

Slack jawed, she stared. There were maybe ten things she expected today: a broken aircon, Jihyo swearing, another complaint from the downstairs neighbor about their communal playlist. But this? It was the most Jihyo-like way of confessing and Jeongyeon felt dizzy with joy.

 

 

 

 

"Are you announcing you’re in love with me or telling me off?" she asked, dazed.

 

 

 

 

"Both," Jihyo snapped, rolling her eyes now. She exhaled deep. "You’ve been looking at me and acting like you love me for approximately forever but you never say it. You’re actually such a chickenshit, I swear."

 

 

 

 

Jeongyeon laughed. It was sharp and surprised and helpless. Of course Jihyo would confess like this. Mid-project. Sweaty. Exasperated. Balancing however many feet off the floor and yelling at her like love was an overdue assignment.

 

 

 

 

Jihyo simply went back to fixing the AC, like she hadn’t just blown Jeongyeon's mind and heart wide open with just a few words. Like it was the most obvious thing in the word to just confess your love and call the person you love out for being a chickenshit. It was so Jihyo. And it was perfect. So, so perfect.

 

 

 

 

 

Jeongyeon stood up on impulse, walking over to the ladder. Her foot hit the bottom rung, causing the whole thing to creak. Instinctively, her hands went to the sides to steady it.

 

 

 

 

Jihyo turned around fast to likely tell her off again, delightfully pissed. "What the fuck—"

 

 

 

 

"Do you know how hard I’ve been working," Jeongyeon said, breath catching, "on not saying ‘I love you’ every goddamned day for the last six months?"

 

 

 

 

It was actually more. Approximately one year and seven months. But six months seemed like an appropriate, less embarrassing time frame since they had technically only been dating for a year. The rest of the time they've known each other was as friends. And Jeongyeon had pitifully pined even then. 

 

 

 

 

 

That quieted her. Jihyo blinked, and her grip loosened just slightly on the wrench she held.

 

 

 

 

Jeongyeon looked up at her. "I’ve been taking it slow. For you."

 

 

 

 

"Well, stop," Jihyo muttered. Her bottom lip caught between her teeth, eyes flicking down and away. "Say it."

 

 

 

 

And so she did.

 

 

 

 

"So," Jeongyeon said, softer now. "It turns out I love you too. Wildly. And painfully so."

 

 

 

 

"Painfully?"

 

 

 

 

"Yeah, I swear I get a miniature heart attack everytime you smile at me. Hurts like hell actually. "

 

 

 

 

 

"Oh, poor you." Jihyo snarked with a snort.

 

 

 

 

But there was something cracking behind the sarcasm— relief maybe, or joy, or just plain exhaustion from holding it in. Her smile finally slipped out, bright and gorgeous and everything Jeongyeon wanted it to be. As much as she enjoyed annoying her girlfriend just to get that lovely frown line between Jihyo's brows, she enjoyed the full smiles even more.

 

 

 

 

 

Jihyo tried blinking the emotion away, but it clung to the corners of her lashes like sweat. Her eyes had watered. Jeongyeon saw her rub at one eye, then the other, pretending like she wasn’t seconds from full-on crying. And Jeongyeon felt her heart swell at the sight.

 

 

 

 

 

"You big crybaby," Jeongyeon teased gently, feeling her chest split open with affection. "You’re so pretty when you’re all in love and shit."

 

 

 

Jihyo rolled her eyes, but there was no heat in it. There never really was with her.

 

 

 

 

"Shut up," she whispered and leaned down to kiss her, like she trusted Jeongyeon to not let them both tip over. Or maybe she did really live in a different reality where gravity just didn't exist to her. Jeongyeon wouldn't be surprised. Jihyo could do pretty much anything after all.

 

 

 

 

The kiss was quick. A little awkward given the height difference and the ladder. But it was warm, and it was sure. Jihyo cupped her face like she was something delicate, like this was something sacred. Jeongyeon steadied the ladder again with trembling hands, heart doing its best impression of a jackhammer.

 

 

 

 

When they pulled back, noses brushing, both a little dazed, Jihyo murmured, "Don’t think this means I’m done fixing the AC."

 

 

 

 

"Wouldn’t dream of it." Jeongyeon grinned.

 

 

 

 

 

Jihyo smiled a little wider too, bright and finally uninhibited. The kind that turned Jeongyeon inside out. The kind that made her think—

 

 

 

 

I’m going to marry this woman one day.

 

 

 

 

Not now, of course. Not while she was still in university, still getting yelled at for burning the tops of her Crème Brûlée. Not while they both still lived in a shitty apartment complex. But one day. When their lives weren’t full of exams and heatwaves and broken appliances. One day, when 'I love you' came as naturally as breathing.

 

 

 

 

But for now, Jeongyeon would keep her little genius nerd steady— ladder, heart, and all.

 

 

 

 

 

Chapter 4: Confessions (Platonic Addition)

Summary:

In which Momo realizes that relationships can really be easy.

 

Or,

 

just some mimo softness because i didn't spend enough time with them together.

Notes:

Late Bloomer funfact #4: In Late Bloomer chapter 6, the scene where Momo asks Mina if they can be friends is actually a scenelet from a really old mimo fic that never saw the light of day. The fic was heavily inspired by that ONE mimo Hit The Stage performance— those judges may not have seen Momo's vision but I did!!! I swear I rewatch that performance every 3 months. Along with their 24hours cover.

 

Enjoy!!

 

 

 

Momo was used to things being hard. She had even come to expect it. It wasn’t something she felt bitter about; it was simply the way life was set up. Or at least, that’s what her parents had taught her.

 

 

 

 

They’d said things were better when they were earned. And they usually were, admittedly. Momo had always felt a particular rush of pride when her hard work paid off. That swell in her chest was proof she’d done enough to deserve what she’d gotten. 

 

 

 

 

 

On Zerth, most Zertmites were raised under a philosophy called Altikpak. Momo couldn’t find a perfect translation, but the closest would be interconnectedness or 'doing things for others before oneself'. It was less a rulebook and more a way of life, one that promoted harmony through hard work above all else. Zerth had no formal religion, but they prayed to the nature spirits. To the earth that bound all beings together. To Altikpak. 

 

 

 

 

 

It was because of Altikpak that Zerth had become something of a refuge for the galaxy’s displaced: the exiled, the lost, the ones who simply needed to disappear for a while. They could simply join one of the many refugee shelters and start a new life for themselves with the help of Zertmites. Maintaining that kind of peace took work: careful diplomacy, active empathy, constant awareness. 

 

 

 

 

Harmony was not effortless; it was something you built, maintained, earned. And for Momo, it always came at the cost of affection. Because Altikpak wasn't just for those in need. It was for family and friends too.

 

 

 

 

She’d learned that early. If she wanted a pat on the back from her father, she’d water all the crops herself. A kiss on the forehead from her mother? That took delivering fresh bread to the refugee shelters. She always had to do something just to feel close to them. Close to anyone, really. 

 

 

 

 

 

And even then, one mistake— a blunt comment to guests, overwatering the fields, skipping the bread run— could undo it all. Then her parents would say she wasn't following Altikpak. They'd say she was ruining the harmony. 

 

 

 

 

It didn’t change much when she came to Earth, even though the planet didn't seem to have Altikpak. The Hirais were kind people, but not particularly affectionate and the only times they seemed genuinely pleased with her were when she was helping at their family restaurant. Or when she did stuff for them in general. 

 

 

 

 

They liked Sana more— of course they did. She was Sana and she knew how to keep social harmony in a way that pleased everyone. Momo didn’t mind, not really. Everyone liked Sana better. Momo knew how to make herself useful though, and usefulness had always been her way in. 

 

 

 

 

 

The trouble was, usefulness didn’t make her good at keeping close friends. She tried. She really did. But she’d been told she was too blunt, too fast, too much. But if you liked someone, shouldn’t you show them? She never understood why that was bad.

 

 

 

 

 

On Zerth, besides Sana and a handful of other refugee children her family housed, she had no close friends. Sana said her bluntness scared people off, but Momo didn’t know how to turn that part of herself off. On Earth it wasn’t better, though she turned to the internet for help. It told her to bond over shared lived experiences, join activities she enjoyed, start conversations, be a good listener. All of which seemed too easy to be the resolution. 

 

 

 

 

Her success rate was questionable. They mostly didn't work and got her a few strange looks. But it had gotten her a wife— even if that wife sometimes decided she didn’t want to be with Momo, only around her. 

 

 

 

 

The only actual success she had was with Mina. And Momo sometimes struggled to believe that purely because of how little effort it had taken.

 

 

 

 

 

Momo assumed it would've been more work to maintain Mina's friendship given their rocky beginnings. Thought it would've been harder to get Mina to forgive her for all the shit she had done in panic while they were still misunderstanding each other. But it just... wasn't. Mina had agreed quickly. Had entertained Momo. Had even responded to all the dumb and admittedly random texts and pictures Momo would send. She went out with Momo whenever she asked. She did everything Momo imagined a friend would. Yet it felt off.

 

 

 

 

Momo wasn’t used to having someone so receptive to her advances. 

 

 

 

 

It had thrown her off for a bit. Especially when randomly Mina had given her a phone cover strap that she had made herself. When Momo had asked what it was for Mina had simply shrugged and brought up how Momo kept on complaining about how often she lost her phone. It was so unbelievably thoughtful Momo nearly cried and sometimes she even slept with the thing on. 

 

 

 

 

 

It wasn’t that she felt undeserving of Mina's company and affection. It just felt, well... unearned. She didn’t do anything extraordinary that would have warranted this type of care. She didn’t know Mina for as long as she did Sana. Nor did she grow up with her, so it wasn't like it was a time thing. She didn’t persistently reach out the way she did with Nayeon. So it wasn't like it was her perseverance. Mina could cook for herself, so it wasn’t like Momo provided much commodity in her life.

 

 

 

 

She was simply just there. A little weird, a little awkward and entirely too blunt.

 

 

 

 

Yet Mina stuck around. She responded. She got Momo things unprompted. She did things for her unprompted. She learnt Zermese after having Momo just recite the alphabet for her (apparently Mina was very good with languages, she just needed to see or hear it once and boom!). And most pressingly, she showed up to Momo’s dance group recitals.

 

 

 

 

She just cared. Without expecting anything in return. And it was such an odd experience that sometimes Momo honestly didn't know what to do with it. She could hear her parents voices at the back of her mind; telling her she wasn't doing enough. Telling her she wasn't following Altikpak. That she was selfish. 

 

 

 

 

And her feelings on it only worsened when Mina practically saved her life during the failed Gythlian invasion. 

 

 

 

 

Momo honestly didn't know what exactly happened. All she remembered was she and Sana aiming for the mothership when a bunch of other tiny ship thingies were attacking them. Then a Gythlian, a type she's never seen before, clawing at her. And blasting her. Then... nothing. She remembered hearing Mina's voice talking to her, felt arms around her but by the time she came to— Mina was long gone. Like the hero she was.

 

 

 

And it was all so unfair.

 

 

 

 

Because Mina was the one who got the short end of the stick. She was the one who stopped breathing. She was the one who suffered the most damage. Yeah, sure Momo's ribs were a little fucked and she couldn't walk without wobbling but at least she was still standing. At least she breathed. And Momo felt wholly guilty because of it.

 

 

 

 

 

Realistically, she knew it wasn’t just her rescue which resulted in Mina's injuries, but she couldn’t help but feel guilty somehow. She should've been there making the job easier for Mina but instead all she had done was become another person Mina had to save. Another liability. 

 

 

 

 

She tried to balm over the guilt by going on patrols (undercover, of course) in Mina's stead. Helped with the clean up. Rescued some civilians caught in all the rubble. Just did anything she could to feel useful again and repay Mina somehow. But none of it helped assuage anything dark she felt. Not while Mina was still plugged up to a machine to keep her alive. None of it felt equal or fair. 

 

 

 

 

So when Sana told her that Mina had woken from stasis, Momo was there within hours in search of a way to find the balance their relationship so sorely lacked. The sight she found worsened the ache in her chest.

 

 

 

 

 

To be blunt, Mina looked like she had crawled her way out of death— which, Momo supposed, wasn’t far from the truth. Her face was peppered with bruises and shallow scars, the most striking being the one running across her left eye. It stayed shut even as she turned her head toward Momo, and something about that made Momo’s chest go heavy.

 

 

 

 

Momo hadn’t liked coming here while Mina was still unconscious. Seeing someone so strong lying fragile beneath glass had been harder than she’d admit. It didn’t look anything like the Mina she had come to know. Awake, Mina still looked fragile, and Momo hated that too.

 

 

 

 

"You look like shit." was what came out of her mouth instead of the thousand more appropriate things she could have said.

 

 

 

 

Sana snorted somewhere behind her and Momo internally winced. Shit. She wasn't very good at these sort of things. Momo took an awkward seat on one of the stools next to the pod Mina was in, watching as the needles dug into Mina's skin like they were anchoring her to consciousness.

 

 

 

 

"I feel like it too." Mina responded surprisingly, voice a little hoarse but not as brittle sounding as she looked. 

 

 

 

 

 

Momo relaxed a fraction. She should have asked how Mina was doing. Said something warm. Something light. But all she could think about was that she wouldn’t even be here if it weren’t for Mina. Her memory of the Gythlian attacking her was fuzzy; she’d been half-passed-out when she started falling. But she knew Mina had caught her. Put her somewhere safe. Killed the thing. Save her.

 

 

 

 

"Why are you staring at me like that?" Mina questioned head tilted.

 

 

 

 

Momo’s throat closed up. "No reason."

 

 

 

 

"Yeah right," Mina adjusted her position on the cushioned pod, needles pulling on her skin. "Spill."

 

 

 

 

"It's just—" Momo didn’t mean for her voice to come out a little shaky but it did regardless. "You... saved me."

 

 

 

 

Mina's expression softened. "Of course."

 

 

 

 

And that simple little of course nearly broke Momo completely right there. Mina made it sound so easy. So obvious. Like she hadn’t just done something impossible, hadn’t risked her life for Momo. Like Momo was worth the risk.

 

 

 

 

 

Momo didn’t know what more to say, all her words and thoughts drained from her body as she watched the needles. Something thick and unmovable had lodged it's way in her throat. Her eyes burned in that way she hated.

 

 

 

 

"Thank you." Momo's eyes dropped to Mina's hands. They were bandaged up. "Really. I don't know how to repay you."

 

 

 

 

"Repay?" Mina looked confused. "Don't be sily. I don’t need that."

 

 

 

 

"But..." Momo trailed off, unsure how to explain that she had to repay her. 

 

 

 

 

But Momo didn’t know how else to frame it. In her world, something that big had to be earned back.

 

 

 

 

Mina kept talking, uncaring for Momo's repayment musings. "How are you? Like... actually?"

 

 

 

 

Terrible. Her ribs still hurt like hell. The cuts on her face was healed but they still burned if she moved her face a particular way. She struggled to fly most days because of her weak leg. And that heaviness in her chest hadn’t lifted since the fight. She’d thought seeing Mina might help. Instead, it pressed harder.

 

 

 

 

She looked up, ready to unload the truth— then froze. Mina’s good eye was wet and shiny, and it made Momo’s chest clench hard.

 

 

 

"I'm okay," she lied instead, her voice light. "Recovery is a bitch, but I'm good."

 

 

 

 

"That's good to hear." Mina murmured,  bottom lip trembling. 

 

 

 

 

And then, even more terrifyingly, she started crying. 

 

 

 

 

Not loud, or particularly explosive. Just a few stray tears falling from her open eye. Momo panicked all the same. Shit. What did she say? Had she made it worse? Momo looked towards Sana for help, but the latter didn't budge from her perch against the wall. And Momo wanted to scoff. Could she not see her girlfriend was clearly in distress?

 

 

 

 

Sana seemed to read Momo’s incredulous look and just smiled slightly, like she was in on something Momo wasn’t. Momo huffed, turning back to the crying Mina. 

 

 

 

 

 

"Hey now, none of that, I'm fine, see?" Before Momo could actually take note of what she was doing, her free hand shot out to cover Mina's that laid on the edge of the pod. "So don't cry."

 

 

 

 

"Sorry." Mina sniffled, blinking away the tears. Her grip tightened on Momo’s, weak but sure. "I'm just happy you're okay." 

 

 

 

 

And that caused Momo to pause. "You... are?"

 

 

 

 

"Of course I am." Mina's brows drawing together like the question didn’t make sense. "Gods, you scared the shit out of me when you started falling. I don't like seeing my friends hurt."

 

 

 

Friend. 

 

 

 

She knew they were friends— she’d asked for that — but hearing it, simple and unconditional, made it feel real in a way she wasn’t prepared for. No caveats. No conditions. No repayment required. Momo didn’t know what to do with that. 

 

 

 

 

"My bad," She found herself saying instead. "Can we pretend you didn’t see me getting my ass beat?"

 

 

 

"Don't let it happen again and maybe I'll consider it."

 

 

 

 

"Deal." Absentmindedly, Momo brushed some of Mina's hair back from her eyes. "Fingers crossed some aliens aren't in the mood to conquer another planet, I'm really ass at defending. Gythlians almost had me down 2-0 in planets overthrown."

 

 

 

 

At that, Mina smiled even as the tears kept coming. Momo just held her hand and let her cry. The smile was slight and relieved, but it eased something in Momo’s chest. Not all the way. But enough. She couldn't quite name what it was that she was feeling, but she could breathe a little better around it now.

 

 

 

 

 

Momo didn’t bring it up again, but the moment stuck with her— the ease with which Mina gave, without weighing it or asking for anything in return. She kept catching herself turning it over in her mind, wondering if she’d imagined it, or if Mina really meant it the way it had felt in the medbay.

 

 

 

 

Weeks later, she got the answer to what she might've been feeling when she and Mina went sparring in the Fortress.

 

 

 

 

They had taken to doing that more often recently after Momo had offhandedly mentioned how the Gythlian invasion made her want to get better at fighting. She and Sana had never gone through any formal form of combat training, so they were sitting ducks in actual close combat. Moreso Momo though, since she didn't have any freaky Thilian Acupressure skills to get her out of a bind if need be like Sana did. 

 

 

 

 

They had left for the Fortress after lunch, where Mina handed Momo her ass in the most polite way possible. And the strangest part was, Mina looked like she enjoyed spending the time, even when Momo lost. She didn’t ask for anything in return. She didn’t even keep score.

 

 

 

 

As expected, Momo was losing more rounds than she was winning and panting on the bottom floor training mat. She was amidst staring up at the fluorescent stone ceiling when an idea struck her.

 

 

 

 

She pretended to sniff the air as she put herself in a sitting position, throwing the unaffected Mina a mock disgusted face. "Wait, I just got a whiff of Sana. Don't tell me you guys mate here on the mat?!" 

 

 

 

She was only half-bullshitting. She did get a faint trace of Sana, but it wasn't strong enough to hint at any type of mating. Especially not on the mat, which she was pretty sure Mina disinfected everytime she used it. Mina seemed like type to do that. 

 

 

 

 

Mina's eyes narrowed, but she did flush slightly, walking up to Momo. Her guard wavered everso slightly, but not enough for Momo to find an opening. "Not on the mat, no."

 

 

 

 

"So you do mate here, just not on the mate?" Momo made her eyes larger. "You're shameless."

 

 

 

 

Mina just shrugged, not taking the bait. Dammit. "The second floor is a bedroom and indestructible. So."

 

 

 

 

At that implication, Momo actually scrunched her face up. "Gross."

 

 

 

 

"You asked."

 

 

 

 

 

"Yeah, well, that doesn't mean I want to know about my friends' sexual lives." Momo shuddered, memory of Sana’s heat reappearance hitting her. "You've scarred me enough."

 

 

 

 

 

"Gods, how many times do I have to tell you nothing happened during Sana's heat!"

 

 

 

 

There!

 

 

 

Taking advantage of the break in Mina's guard due to her flustered explanation, Momo did a sweeping kick, knocking Mina off her feet. The yelp Mina let out as she crashed to the mat nearly made Momo shout in victory, but it wasn't over yet until she got to pin her for five seconds. Not wasting any type Momo scrambled to climb on top of Mina and hold her down. 

 

 

 

 

Her victory was only momentary.

 

 

 

 

In a movement too swift for Momo to pick up on: she was shoved off of Mina, twisted, and then had one of her legs in a leg lock. Mina's grip on it was tight and unyielding, even as Momo attempted to punch herself loose. They thrashed around for a bit, but Mina's hold didn’t loosen— it got even tighter. She felt one of her leg muscles strain a little too much. It very much felt like her legs were about to pop off.

 

 

 

 

"Ow, fuck!" Momo tapped one of Mina's arms. "I yield, damn, let go before you break my leg, you dickhead!"

 

 

 

 

Mina let go and rolled off of Momo easily, shaking her head as she watched Momo flop back down onto the mats panting. Mina shook her head in amusement as she shook out her shoulders slightly,  redoing her ponytail for the umpteenth time. That was unfortunately the only bit of damage Momo could manage to get on her this far. 

 

 

 

 

There was something quietly frustrating about that, but also… nice. Mina never gloated. She never acted like Momo was wasting her time. Even now, her patience felt like a sparring match in itself, one Momo wasn’t sure she wanted to win.

 

 

 

 

"I told you the distractions won't get you very far." Mina said, not even sounding remotely winded. 

 

 

 

 

Momo rolled onto her side, rubbing her exposed thighs. "It'll work one of these days."

 

 

 

 

"So does that mean you're going to keep questioning me on my sex life?"

 

 

 

 

 

"Maybe," Momo looked towards Mina's compression shorts, which did not have a noticeable budge. Something she had been pondering everytime she saw Mina in short things. "You're an alpha, right?"

 

 

 

 

Mina gave her a suspicious look. "Yes, why?"

 

 

 

 

"Oh, yknow, your biological function is to like populate your planet or something, right? So do you like have a dick because—"

 

 

 

 

"I'm not answering that."

 

 

 

 

Momo huffed and sat upright again. "Oh, c'mon! Just tell me. Not like I'll tell anyone else!"

 

 

 

"Nope."

 

 

 

"But I'm really curious. It's been bugging me for months! Sana won't tell me anything."

 

 

 

 

Mina just scoffed and crossed her arms over her chest, but her face was beet red at this point. "Didn't you have other female alphas on Zerth?"

 

 

 

 

"We did," Momo sighed. "But we were ten when we left Zerth. And it's not like I was going around asking them if they had dicks or not. The kids already didn't like me, that would've given them more reason."

 

 

 

 

"Did you guys not have sex-ed too?"

 

 

 

 

"Yeah, we did." Momo sighed. "But we you only get upgraded to the class that explains all that when you're over twelve. Which, need I remind you, we didn't get to. Sure, the prepubescent alphas went around telling random betas and omegas they found pretty that they were going to be mates one day, but they didn't really understand what it meant to mate yet."

 

 

 

 

 

Mina just gave Momo a long look. The type that let Momo know that she nearly cracked her. She almost grinned in victory right then. But Mina was much too far for Momo to sneak attack her, so it really was just Momo’s curiosity at this point that prompted her to ask the question.

 

 

 

 

"I'll tell you, if you tell me what's the deal between you and Nayeon." Mina eventually said.

 

 

 

 

Momo hummed, a little confused. "I told you already."

 

 

 

 

"A 'we're kinda married' is not sufficient answer without further explanation, you know."

 

 

 

 

 

Mina had a point but there really was no other way to explain it. But her curiosity really was eating at her, so she went the more literal route: "Tzopeli Yollo Pixtli."

 

 

 

 

 

Mina's brows furrowed in concentration as she mouthed the words, likely doing her freaky Thilian translation thing. "Bonded Heartsong Mate?"

 

 

 

 

Momo grinned, sitting up a little more straighter. She always got so giddy whenever Mina understood Zermese. "Yeah. A Heartsong mate is meant literally in this case. Someone your heart literally sings for, it's like a vibration in your blood and veins and you feel it everywhere. You only get a few in your lifetime, so once you find one, Zertmites are encouraged to mate with them immediately. This cuts off any other potential Heartsongs and you are bonded to this one person forever. Hence, Bonded Heartsong Mate. A spouse in Zertmite tradition, I'd say is more simpler."

 

 

 

 

"I see," Mina nodded looking a little awed. "So Nayeon is yours?"

 

 

 

 

"Yup." Momo pulled her knees up a little to her chest. "I told her all this before we mated, or, uh, had sex as you say. I think she thought I was joking at the time. Now we're together forever. It's why I'm not really bothered by her random timeouts."

 

 

 

 

 

Mina nodded slowly, contemplative look on her face. "Do you love her?"

 

 

 

 

 

Momo’s answer was immediate. "Of course.  She drives me insane sometimes but she's mine."

 

 

 

 

 

She was condensing her relationship with Nayeon by a lot, but that was the crux of it really. Nayeon made her blood sing just as much as she made it boil. She was abrasive, sharp-tongued and sometimes just downright mean... but Momo couldn’t stay away. She didn’t want to either. Because then she'd miss out of the softer parts Nayeon thought she kept so expertly hidden from everyone else. 

 

 

 

 

The caring parts. The parts that would stay up in the middle of the night to figure out how to make a heat suppressant purely so that her friend wouldn't suffer. The parts that promoted herself to primary care physician purely because she wanted to know firsthand if something were going on with them. The parts that whispered 'I love you' into the dark when she thought Momo was asleep. 

 

 

 

 

Momo had known they were irrevocably tied the moment Nayeon stepped into Momo’s pilate class and she knew she'd never want another person ever again. 

 

 

 

 

At the words Mina smiled, shoulders relaxing like she got an answer to a long held question. Like Momo had confessed more than what she had simply said. It was at that look that Momo was reminded of what they were talking about initially.

 

 

 

 

"Now that you know, it's your turn to spill." Momo wiggled her eyebrows. 

 

 

 

 

And Mina just sighed, looking dejected and wholly embarrassed. "Yes, I do have a pseudo-penis. And before you ask, it only comes out fully when I'm rutting. So yeah."

 

 

 

 

"Wow, so do—"

 

 

 

 

"I'm not going to answer any more sex questions from you." Mina groaned and walked up to Momo shaking her arms. "Now get up, I got at least four rounds left in me before we can head off."

 

 

 

 

As Mina squared her shoulders and moved closer, Momo realized she wasn’t feeling the usual urge to prove herself. No scoreboard, no tally of who owed who. Just the two of them, sweaty and laughing, tossing truths back and forth like sparring blows. It struck her then— the way Mina made space for her without asking her to be anything but herself— and the thought bloomed so fast she almost said it before she could stop it.

 

 

 

 

She never would've imagined herself having this type of conversation with a friend that wasn't Sana. Hell, she never imagined it to come out as easy as it did. It felt... nice. Momo's chest felt warm and full in a way that was both familiar and foreign. And somewhere in the rhythm of the sparring, talking and laughing, Momo realized she’d stopped thinking about earning Mina’s company. She was just… in it. 

 

 

 

 

 

"Not to be weird," Momo swallowed hard as she watched Mina in front of her. "But I kinda love you. In, like, a platonic way yknow?"

 

 

 

 

The words sat awkwardly in her mouth. Her stomach clenched in that way it always did when she admitted something Nayeon would typically call corny. She thought about taking it back... until Mina beat her to it.

 

 

 

 

 

"I love you too." Mina smiled, bright and gummy, hand outstretched. "It's not going to make me go easy on you though."

 

 

 

 

 

Momo exhaled. The air didn't feel any different than what she thought it would've if she let something like that slip. It felt light. Easy. The way everything with Mina felt.

 

 

 

 

Momo beamed up her, the coiling of her stomach and the tightness of her chest all dissipating as she took Mina's offered hand. She momentarily considered yanking Mina down, but the latter probably would've flipped her back on her ass with little effort. Instead, she just settled on bumping shoulders with her, offering to fill their water bottles before they went back to round however many they were on.

 

 

 

 

 

She was slowly beginning to accept that maybe she didn’t have to give excessively to make herself a useful friend in Mina's eyes. Beginning to accept that maybe Mina had her own form of Altikpak. Or perhaps, relationships didn't need to be measured by some type of scaling system. 

 

 

 

 

The thought scared her— and it warmed her at the same time. Her belief system was kinda turned on its head. She still didn’t know what to do with this new truth, but she wasn’t in a rush to figure it out. Not when she had a cool-ass friend now. And, for the first time, just being herself felt like enough.

 

 

 

Chapter 5: Coincidence (i)

Summary:

In which Sana thinks she's doing a good job at avoiding fate.

 

Or,

 

some unseen but familiar snapshots of sana's journey reckoning with the fact that finding her mate was perhaps not the end of her life as she knew it.

Notes:

Late Bloomer funfact #5: Late Bloomer is a accumulation of scenelets, ficlets, and random scenarios I've written over the years that I just smooshed into one piece. So if certain parts feel a little clunky, that's the reason why lol. Tried my best threading everything together in a way that made sense. The base characters for Momo and Mina were actually werewolves. And Sana’s base character was a half-succubi.

 

Enjoy !!!

 

 

 

It had been a coincidence, really, it was. 

 

 

 

Or at least that’s what Sana kept forcing herself to believe. Coincidence was easier than admitting that maybe, just maybe, fate, the thing she spat on most days, had decided to interfere. Coincidence was safe. Fate was a trap.

 

 

 

 

It was just coincidence that Nayeon had returned to Seoul after years of living in Busan. Coincidence that Momo had finally been accepted into the Seoul dance group after countless failed auditions. Coincidence that Sana’s Predictive Foresight had flared for the first time in years, pointing her toward Seoul. Toward danger. Coincidence that her company merged with a Seoul-based firm, pulling her here whether she wanted it or not.

 

 

 

 

 

It didn’t have to mean anything. She refused to let it mean anything.

 

 

 

 

She wouldn’t have even followed the foresight if not for Momo’s damn hero complex. Why should they care about random crater sightings in Seoul? Because that’s how Zerth fell, Momo argued.

 

 

 

 

And, well, Sana couldn’t argue with that. But she still hated being here — hated the way the rope in her chest grew tauter the closer she got to the city, tugging her like a leash toward something she had no intention of facing. Even though she managed to convince herself that that everything was totally against her will and it was all just a funny coincidence, there was one thing she couldn't deny was a bit too on the nose.

 

 

 

 

Because why the hell was Nayeon’s new lab in the exact district where her pairbond mate apparently lived? Like a cruel joke.

 

 

 

 

 

The first time she felt it, the pull, she froze outside the lab door. The hum at the back of head became an arrow, yanking her a few streets over before she even realized she was moving.

 

 

 

 

Momo’s hand clamped her shoulder. "Whoa there easy, where you going?"

 

 

 

 

 

Sana blinked, dazed. "What?"

 

 

 

 

"You were about to walk into the street, genius."

 

"I was?"

 

 

 

"Sana, your foot is literally in the street."

 

 

 

 

Blinking again, slower this time, she realized the edges of her vision were blurring. And there — faint, shimmering — a golden thread stretched through the air. Her stomach lurched. She rubbed at her eyes until it dissolved into smoke.

 

 

 

Oh no. Not now. Not here.

 

 

 

"Fuck."

 

 

 

Momo shifted closer, sounding more alarmed. "What's wrong?"

 

 

 

Her throat constricted, dry, breath catching shallow and sharp. She turned to Momo, panic scraping raw under her skin. "She lives here."

 

 

 

 

She didn't need to elaborate on who 'she' was. The words cracked out too sharp, too loud, and Momo flinched. Sana’s shackle to a life she had never lived. Only one person could unmake her composure like this. M.M.

 

 

 

 

Her throat dried out, every breath rasping shallow, her skin prickling as though the Seoul air itself had turned hostile. When Momo’s eyes went wide, Sana’s own pulse spiked so hard she swore she could hear blood rushing in her ears.

 

 

 

 

When Momo even spoke, it was with obvious trepidation.  "Like here here ... or like just in the city?"

 

 

 

 

Sana raised her hand to point at a distant building. It trembled. She yanked it back quickly, shoving it against her side like she could hide the weakness, but shame still burned hot in her chest.

 

 

 

 

 

Momo followed her gaze. "Shit."

 

 

 

 

Shit indeed. 

 

 

 

 

 

Sana was still for a long few minutes, staring in the direction she had almost instinctively followed. The longer she stared the more the panic that rippled underneath turned into something more familiar. Anger. This mate-perception thing was supposed to be a safeguard for omegas, a defense mechanism. So why the fuck was it dragging her straight into danger?

 

 

 

 

Her nails carved half-moons into her palms. God, she wanted to punch a wall, pull her hair out, scream until her throat tore. Anything to fight back against the pull in her chest. But all she could do was stand there, shaking, while fury scalded the inside of her ribs.

 

 

 

 

Momo was eyeing her with concern. At that, as always, Sana forced everything down. Masked it. Shoved every spiraling thought into a neat box and snapped the lid shut. She was fine. She was in control here. She cooled her expression into something steady.

 

 

 

 

"It's okay." She said evenly, almost convincing herself thereof. "No big deal. Seoul is huge. What are the odd we run into each other? And besides, I have the advantage here."

 

 

 

 

Momo didn’t look convinced, but she nodded anyway, leading Sana in the lab. 

 

 

 

 

The truth was harsher. It wasn’t like her mate knew she was here. Or even cared. She wouldn’t recognize Sana even if they stood face to face… probably. The specifics of pairbond acknowledgment were murky. Her cousin once described it as a latch slamming shut in your brain the instant your eyes locked.

 

 

 

 

Sana had no desire to test that theory.

 

 

 

 

And yet fate, or coincidence, was already moving pieces into place. The tug would not be ignored forever. It might dull, but her foresight buzzed again like static under her skin. Something was coming, and it had her mate’s gravity all over it.

 

 

 

 

 

Seoul wasn’t so big when you had a hum gnawing at the back of your skull and a faint tug at your sternum dragging you through the days.

 

 

She tried to ignore it, like she had for years. But she had no distractions left. Her transfer papers would take weeks to finalize, her new apartment with Momo was sparsely furnished, and there was little to do besides sightsee.

 

 

 

 

By the third week, she was wandering the city alone, Momo caught up at the dance studio. And it was then that Sana found herself outside an unfamiliar apartment complex, breath seizing when she realized where she was. She fled too quickly, almost sprinting, heart battering her ribs like a drum.

 

 

 

 

It happened again the next week. This time she circled to the back, eyes drawn to the balconies. She stayed on the opposite side of street, scrambling for a semblance of distance. She told herself it was exposure therapy. If she could stand at the edges of her mate’s presence without shaking apart, then maybe she’d be ready if the worse really did happen. Maybe the hum would even dull.

 

 

 

 

 

She never saw her mate step onto the balcony. That absence was both a relief and a bitter disappointment she refused to name. By the fourth time, she rebranded it in her head: intel. She was gathering information. On what, she couldn’t say but it was the only way to excuse why she kept showing up.

 

 

 

 

Soon, the route became part of her morning runs, despite being nowhere near her apartment. She justified it with 'frequent visits' to Nayeon’s lab. Nayeon had already begun to eye her with suspicion but she didn't question her. Not yet. And Sana was grateful therefore, she had no explanation that made sense to anyone but herself. 

 

 

 

 

Her mate, it seemed, was a homebody. Mostly inside. Predictable. Manageable. Relief bloomed in her chest at that. Easier to track. Easier to avoid. She never let her superhearing reach for the woman’s voice, though. That... was a line too far. Too risky. Too much like surrender.

 

 

 

 

A month into their Seoul stay, Sana and Momo found their first inhabited crater in Gangnam.

 

 

 

 

The sight of the meretode froze her. A memory, sharp and unyielding: Zerth’s farmlands drowning in those things, the days before the fall. She almost forgot to act.

 

 

 

 

Only the scream of a civilian snapped her out of it; a young woman with a camera, too close, snapping photos like an idiot. Momo’s shout jolted her into motion. Together they burnt the creature down, but not before it leapt, claws snagging and tearing a strip of material from her glove.

 

 

 

 
They barely had the chance to sweep the area before they heard sirens in the distance. Even as the sirens closed in and she and Momo slipped away, the hum at the back of her skull only sharpened. And a terrible thought filled her head. That maybe the craters weren’t random anymore. They were pulling her closer. Pulling her straight toward the one person she had spent her whole life avoiding. 

 

 

 

 

She shook that thought off immediately. The encounter, though brief,  thankfully provided enough distraction for a few days. But then things turned from just slightly uncomfortable to shitty because Sana's dream returned. Not just any dream. That dream. The one she didn't want to admit was more sexy than it was terrifying. 

 

 

 

 

Black hair the colour of midnight splayed on pearly white sheets. Soft, salty skin pressed against hers— holding her in a way Sana would never allow anyone to. A deep, guttural growl that should’ve scared her. Her own voice, desperate, speaking a language she shouldn’t know as well as she did in the dream.

 

 

 

 

 

These images used to haunt her almost every day since she got her first heat. Not because they were unpleasant, no. Because they left her raw, needy. She'd feel the ghost of gentle fingers on her skin for weeks. Her lips would burn with a memory that didn't exist. And more shamefully... she's feel a want so deep in her core that she ached when she looked over in her bed and found it empty. 

 

 

 

 

 

She hadn’t had it for nearly a year. Now, in this city— her mate’s city — it returned. And it terrified her. It wasn’t just the want that scared her. It was the inevitability. The sense that her own subconscious had already surrendered, no matter how hard she resisted awake.

 

 

 

 

Sana paced the apartment for a few minutes before she decided to go for a midnight fly instead, thinking that maybe the fresh air would help the drumming of her chest that had yet to settle. 

 

 

 

And the center for logical thinking in Sana's head had clearly malfunctioned because she found herself flying towards said mate's apartment. Everything about it screamed idiotic and dangerous, but Sana was too tired and too rattled to turn back by the time she made it to the curb of the street opposite the balconies. 

 

 

 

 

She sat down on the curb and just let her eyes stay on the apartment balcony she had memorized at this point. The lights were off, obviously, so there wasn't much for her to see. The tug in her chest steadied her, even as it scared her. Just a few minutes, she told herself. Then she’d go home and wake up tomorrow mortified like she was supposed to.

 

 

 

 

She was just about to stand up when she saw it. 

 

 

 

 

The rustling of the balcony's curtains before the sliding doors burst open. Sana froze, caught somewhere between shock and absolute terror which rooted her to her spot. Before she could register what was happening, she saw movement:  someone in a maroon supersuit steeping onto the balcony and then it was gone. Sana blinked, getting up instinctively as she strained her vision but the person had shot off into the sky too fast for her to see properly.

 

 

 

 

She only caught their hair. Black.

 

 

 

She nearly threw up on the curb right then and there, her stomach knotting so hard it felt like it might crawl up her throat. Too close. Too close.

 

 

 

 

 

She didn’t return after that. The fear of almost being caught sank its claws into every crevice of her mind, finally overpowering the stupid instinct that had been gnawing at her over the last few weeks. Sana told herself that had to be the end of it. No more near misses. No more games of almost. But fate seemed determined to claw at her seams.

 

 

 

 

Two weeks later, it happened again.

 

 

 

 

The dreams had stopped, at least. But when one fire guttered out, another always sparked up — this time in the form of her Predictive Foresight screaming at her. She’d jolted Momo awake, dragging her toward Itaewon without explanation

 

 

 

 

The crater wasn’t ready yet. It was only just beginning, and Sana took a breath of relief, thinking they’d get time to investigate, to search for clues, to feel like they were in control again.

 

 

 

She and Momo were halfway through the perimeter sweep with Nayeon’s biometric rods when a hum cut through the air. Not a meretode. Too sharp. Too fast. The kind of sound that crawled under her skin and demanded her attention. She’d been half-ignoring the hum at the back of her head for days, pretending it wasn’t there. But now it screamed.

 

 

 

 

Sana looked up. Froze.

 

 

 

 

The silhouette plummeting through the clouds — she knew that descent. That speed. That precision. Thilian-trained. She didn’t know how she knew it, only that her blood remembered. Her chest locked tight.

 

 

 

 

No. It couldn’t be.

 

 

 

 

She barely managed a warning to Momo before the figure hit the alleyway like a meteor, shockwaves hurling them back. The figure grabbed her in the chaos, knocked the air out of her lungs. She tumbled before her body remembered what to do and used the momentum to her advantage, boots scraping against the alley wall before she found her feet again. Her cloak dragged, heavy.

 

 

 

 

And that’s when she saw her. Her mate. 

 

 

 

 

 

The cowl hid her face, but the mole on her lips—those lips Sana had seen in half-formed dream fragments for years— shattered any doubt. Her pulse stuttered painfully, choking her.

 

 

 

 

She scrambled back, not striking, not yet. She couldn’t. This wasn’t a soldier. This wasn’t an agent. This was a piece of a home she never lived in, standing in front of her, wearing the wrong colors. Her panic tore her lungs apart, her skin prickled like it didn’t fit her body. She had to get away, she had to—

 

 

 

 

The stranger’s hand caught her cloak, yanking her forward. Right into her arms.

 

 

 

 

She braced for pain, interrogation, something cold and brutal that she knew was waiting for her for years, but instead she found herself face to face with a pair of white-eyed visors. A mask she couldn’t pierce. A mask just like her own. 

 

 

 

 

"Who are you and what are you doing here?!" Her mate barked, voice like steel.

 

 

 

 

The sound vibrated straight through Sana, a jolt that tangled her insides. She was supposed to listen for threat, analyze, calculate, but her brain tripped over the cadence instead. The voice wasn’t cruel, wasn’t harsh. Not what she’d built in her nightmares. Normal. Almost ordinary. It fractured Sana’s resolve. Just a bit.

 

 

 

 

 

Her breath snagged in her throat. Her chest stuttered. She couldn’t stop herself — her gloved hand rose, clawtips brushing the seam of the cowl, tech flaring at her command. The mask dissolved.

 

 

 

Air stilled. For a single heartbeat, Sana forgot she was supposed to be scared. 

 

 

 

 

There she was. Alive. Beautiful. Her mate’s face— real, whole, devastating— flooded her senses. She drank her in like she’d been starved. The scatter of moles. Lips shaped in a natural pout. Eyes so dark they caught the light and softened it as it drooped at the corners.

 

 

 

 

Harmless, her brain whispered. Her mate looked... harmless. Which was insane. Sana had just been attacked, and was still held fast in an alpha’s grip. But all she could think was how much she wanted—needed— to see more.

 

 

 

 

Her throat closed around a dreamy sigh. Words she’d only ever heard whispered in her childhood slipped out, unbidden, treacherous.

 

 

 

 

"Mīļais skaista…"  

 

 

 

 

My beauty. The language of their lost world burned her tongue, too sweet, too dangerous. She didn’t even notice her hand rising higher, cupping the woman’s cheek. It stayed there, trembling but steady, because it felt right.

 

 

 

 

Her mate blinked, stunned. Her grip faltered, just slightly.

 

 

 

"Vai ti esi Tiliani?" the women asked, steel dripping out of her voice and softened with something like hope.

 

 

 

 

 

Sana’s chest constricted. Her mask hid her expression, but her whole body ached with the need to reassure, to claim kinship. She nodded. "Yā. Mīn esmu Tilani."

 

 

 

 

 

Yes. I am Thilian. She had never said it aloud. Never claimed it. And now, with her mate’s eyes on her, it came out like confession, like surrender. And in that fragile moment, she wanted to stay. To tell her she wasn’t alone. To press closer and—

 

 

 

Shit. No. Not this. It was a goddamn trap.

 

 

 

 

Before she could jerk back and out of this annoyingly-easy-to-fall-into haze, Momo’s shout split the air. A kick cracked against her mate's side, and suddenly chaos reclaimed the moment. Sana staggered back, torn between the haze that settled over her mind, and her logic screaming at her that she was in danger. To run before this alpha took her. And ruined her. 

 

 

 

 

"Fuck—are you okay?" Momo came up next to her, panting. "Who the hell is she? Did she attack you?"

 

 

 

 

"I’m fine." The lie barely scraped out. Sana’s hand shot up to stop Momo’s next strike. Her chest rioted at the thought of her mate being hurt again. "Don’t!"

 

 

 

 

"The hell you mean don't?! She attacked us unprompted—" 

 

 

 

"She's my mate, Mo." 

 

 

 

 

Momo froze,  head darting between Sana and her momentarily incapacitated mate against the large metal dumpster that broke her fall.

 

 

 

"Shit." Momo's fists clenched at her sides. "What do we do now?"

 

 

 

 

Sana didn’t know. Her brain wasn't working and her heart was doing weird leaps in her chest. But she had to figure something out quick. It was fine. It was nothing. "We can—"

 

 

 

 

A movement from the other side of the alleyway cut her off. Both her and Momo turned to the dumpster.

 

 

 

 

 

"Torpedo to HQ," Her mate groaned as she sat up, holding the side where she was kicked, looking in their direction. Her cowl was reactivated and she was pushing down on her earpiece. "Requesting backup. Itaewon. Another crater formation in the southeast residential. Alien activity as well. In the middle of combat."

 

 

Fuck. Backup? Was she part of JYP? Nayeon had mentioned once that JYP's base was in Seoul but they hadn't yet encountered any agents first hand. And did her mate seriously think she and Momo were responsible for these craters? What the hell? They were trying to help. This was all just a misunderstanding, they could sort out calmly —

 

 

 

 

Momo shot off before Sana could think of a better plan.

 

 

 

 

The fight blurred and Momo, admittedly, was getting her ass beat. Panicked, Sana sprang  into action. She held back as much as she could, intercepting when Momo was held up against the wall, trying to buy time, to explain— but her mate kept coming, relentless. 

 

 

 

 

Then the sirens came and Sana's brain malfunctioned entirely. She cursed under her breath. Their time was gone.

 

 

 

 

 

She caught her mate by the throat, lifting her easily. It broke her heart to feel how fragile she was in her grip, how much this woman reminded her of just regular civilian like this. Sana knew she wasn't. She was an alpha. She wasn't made to be fragile and Sana had to remind herself not to let her guard down before she got entrapped. 

 

 

 

 

 

She didn’t want to hurt her. Didn’t want to leave her like this. But if they were caught now, everything was over. Her voice cracked even as she forced the words out. "I’m really sorry about this."

 

 

 

 

And then, because it was the only way to ensure their escape, she pressed her fingers to the woman's pressure point in her scent gland, cutting her down without killing her. She crumpled with a gasp, face pulling into something like betrayal and— no. Not betrayal. Something softer. Something that hit her chest directly.

 

 

 

 

"Aizdū, mīl se." Slipped out before she realized what happened. Forgive me.  

 

 

 

 

Her hand trembled as she let go. She didn’t watch her mate writhe on the floor. She couldn’t. Instead she turned, heart heavy, cloak snapping in the wind as she and Momo took to the skies, the crater unfinished and uninvestigated, her chest hollow.

 

 

 

 

The image of mate's eyes; hopeful, disbelieving, almost longing, burned itself into her memory. And she tried reminding herself what the other woman was. Tried convincing herself it was just a blip and the haze was making her see things in the woman's gaze that wasn't there. It was easier to focus on the fact that the woman had attacked her instead. That she was violent. That she would've taken Sana right there had she known who she actually was. 

 

 

 

 

Sana’s lungs burned as the city blurred beneath them, the day air biting at her skin. They were already blocks away when she realized she was shaking. The fight, the haze, her mate’s voice, it all blurred together in a haze that gnawed at her bones. Momo was saying something; orders, plans, maybe questions,  but Sana couldn’t make out the words. All she could hear was her own pulse and the echo of a voice that didn’t belong in this world, yet somehow lived inside her bones.

 

 

 

Coincidence. It had to be coincidence.

 

 

 

 

Seoul was massive. Craters drew attention. Lines crossed sometimes. It was normal, especially if her mate happened to work for JYP. But the word cracked in her throat. Coincidence didn’t explain the way her hand had risen on its own. It didn’t explain the ache that lingered in her chest, or the way her mate’s eyes had looked at her, as if she were the answer to a question neither of them should be asking.

 

 

 

 

She forced herself to whisper it again; coincidence, but even she could hear how weak it sounded.

 
 

 

Chapter 6: The Price of Pride (i)

Summary:

In which Nayeon doesn't quite understand why she cares so much about Park Jihyo's test scores being higher than hers.

 

Or,

 

part one of nahyo's attempts at understanding each other. and failing at it.

Notes:

Late Bloomer funfact #6: I strongly debated setting the initial story entirely in college.

 

Enjoy!!

 

 

 

One thing was certain: Nayeon’s father was a difficult man. It was likely why her parents divorced— though she hated to admit she’d inherited his stubborn streak. She just hoped it wasn't set up to ruin her romantic relationships the way it did her father's. Regardless of his stubbornness, her mother usually bended to it... even in divorce. 

 

 

 

 

So much so that her parents had her entire life planned out for her immediately after their divorce was finalized when she was four. They had 'mutually' agreed that she'd stay with her mother for her adolescence in Busan with occasional visits to Seoul when her father felt like getting his 'dad points' up.

 

 

 

 

 

Then when she finished high school, she'd attend the most prestigious university in Seoul and thereafter land an immediate entry level position at her father's company, Im Tech. She already had shares in company set aside in her name for years now, so it was no doubt that she'd eventually take the reigns once the old man decided to step down. Now she just had to 'work her way up' for formalities sake and image purposes. 

 

 

 

 

And Nayeon didn't particularly mind that part of having her life set up for her. She had future career security, what more could she ask for? She had never seriously considered her career before, so it wasn't like she was being barred from pursuing her passion. She never had a real passion, only the satisfaction of excelling. And she was good at most things. 

 

 

 

 

So it wasn't unpleasant to envision herself as a big shot of her father's boutique telecommunications (she was about 80% sure that was their focus) company that pioneered the strictest of cyber security. What she did, however, have an issue with was what it would take to pursue this future career path.

 

 

 

 

Nayeon hated Seoul. Not that there was anything particularly wrong with it. It just felt like one big buzzing nightclub sometimes that never slowed down, no matter what. She was used to the port city of Busan. Was used to the life she had curated there. Her favorite seafood places, her favorite markets, her favorite beaches, and not to mention the few people that actually tolerated her enough to call her a friend. She'd miss it all.

 

 

 

 

She had tried to argue with her father about it, actually bringing up valid points like there being a few prestigious universities in Busan too. Like how she could be delegated to the Busan sect of Im Tech that was still in the process of growing.  

 

 

 

 

As usual, he shot down all her arguments with a swift dismissal, claiming their company focus would be on expanding in the Seoul Metropolitan Area for the upcoming few years. Meaning for a while, she'd have to be in either Seoul, Gyeonggi province or Incheon. And yeah... Nayeon hated him as much as she did the city but she couldn’t dispute it much if he wouldn't even listen to her reasonable arguments. 

 

 

 

 

She had complained the entire moving process though. Annoying him so much that he agreed to maybe having her start in the Busan sect once she completed her studies in Seoul. Which, she believed was... not exactly reasonable but manageable at least. So she considered that a win. One rarely ever got anything remotely close to a compromise when it came to a particular Mr. Im. 

 

 

 

 

So for the next three years, Nayeon expected life to be relatively monotonous as she got her business degree with a few tech minors. And it was for the most part. Go to class, eat somewhere, go home, videocall some of her friends in Busan, sleep and repeat.

 

 

 

Life lacked the fire and thrill she once had surrounded by people she could annoy. The people in her business class didn't have what it takes to set her spirits aflame, too stressed out on work and school to entertain her banter past calling it 'mean-spirited' . No one had the bite in them that she was looking for and she had resigned herself to the fact.

 

 

 

 

Until she met Park Jihyo, that is.

 

 

 

 

She had just gotten done with her first semester when she had decided to enroll in an elective class that she had seen posted on the university's website. Introductory Xenobiology and Biomanufacturing. Nayeon had never been exactly drawn to science. She was good at it, of course, and she could usually pick up on concepts and theories relatively quickly.

 

 

 

 

 

But she never seemed to have that drive that most of the nerds interested in science usually had so she had never considered a career in the field. But the elective was new, in it's experimental stages, and was entirely cultivated by a JYP agent for only a select few people to enroll into. This would also be the only semester it would be offered.

 

 

 

 

 

And if there was one thing besides arguing that Nayeon loved, it was being part of exclusive things. So, she called up her father to give her application a little push since she wasn't a Science major that would likely get preferential treatment for the elective selection process. It was admittedly a little unethical and bordered on brattiness, but if Nayeon had the smarts to back herself up she didn't think there was a problem with wielding her privilege. 

 

 

 

 

So she got in and it was admittedly... interesting. 

 

 

 

 

Nayeon actually found herself paying attention in class, not just zoning out or scrolling on her phone if she thought she understood the work content enough. When she had first read up about Xenobiology, she had assumed the elective would be focusing on synthetic biology. The type that focused on man-made biochemistries that laid outside the scope of nature.

 

 

 

 

But no, the elective focused on actual alien biology. Understanding it. How to combat it in preparation for hypothetical future potential invasions. And Nayeon found herself excited to learn for the first time in possibly ever.

 

 

 

 

Their professor was fast-talking, quick witted and a little bit of an asshole but Nayeon liked it when her educators were fast and had a little bite in them. The only real issue she had with him was his instance with cold calling and having them do weekly two hour sitdown tests which apparently counted for something he was rather tight lipped about. They would occur on the Friday of every week, then he would post the results of the tests the following Monday morning of new week.

 

 

 

 

At first Nayeon didn't really want to bother wasting her time checking the results, since she knew she was likely first. She usually was, no matter what subject it was, and she felt good about the test. But she felt it necessary to just check how much she got so that she could calculate how much she got wrong.

 

 

 

 

That was when she saw her name for the first time:

 

 

 

 

Weekly Cumulative Assessment One Ranking:

Park. Jihyo:  99.5 %
Im. Nayeon: 96%
Kim. Namjoon: 92%
Choi. Yujin: 87%

 

 

 

 

The list went on for the ranking of the rest of the forty students which took the class but all Nayeon could focus on was the fact that she wasn't first for the first time in her life. She stared at her phone screen unblinking for a few minutes, mind reeling as she did the mental calculation.  Ninety-nine point five percent... the test was only out of fifty, so that meant this Park Jihyo had gotten a score of exactly forty-nine point seven five. Nayeon had only gotten forty-eight out of fifty. 

 

 

 

 

How the hell could you even get a point seven five? The test was mostly multiple choice with like three extended questions!

 

 

 

 

Nayeon went to class that Monday with a new sense of determination in her bones. She wasn't exactly competitive since no one really measured up, but she felt a burning in her chest she had never felt before. At least not for school. It was just a first week blunder. There were about fifteen more of these tests to go. She doubted this Park Jihyo could even make it happen a second time.

 

 

 

 

Weekly Cumulative Assessment Two Ranking:

Park. Jihyo:  99.5 %
Im. Nayeon: 98%

 

 

 

She went to class that Monday, heated, and glancing around the classroom for the first time in two weeks, trying to pick out who this apparent Park Jihyo was. She couldn’t find her, obviously, since their class was pretty evenly split between women and men. So any of the nineteen other women in class could've been this so called Jihyo. So she settled for just mentally promising whoever it was that they would not get the better of her the third time around.

 

 

 

 

Weekly Cumulative Assessment Three Ranking:

Park. Jihyo:  99.5 %
Im. Nayeon: 99%

 

 

 

Nayeon screamed at her phone that Monday, head thundering with the visceral urge to break something. Who the fuck was this nerd? Did Nayeon have to get a goddamn perfect score to beat them? Those weren't possible!

 

 

 

 

She went to class that day in a particularly shitty mood and a little dejected. She knew she was still ahead of almost everyone. She knew this. Yet Park Jihyo lodged in her side like a thorn. Flaring up every single one of her nerves. It was almost as though nothing she did mattered. That this Park Jihyo would still beat her with that lousy ninety-nine point five percent. God. It pissed her off.

 

 

 

 

As though sensing her terrible mood, her professor decided that was the day to cold call on her. She answered flawlessly, of course, and it seemed to annoy him as he kept asking questions. She answered each one, a little smug, a little pissed off, and wholly over it.

 

 

 

 

 

But then he brought up her test. Brought up the point five percent she didn't get and Nayeon felt fire burn through her veins and crawl up her throat. He dressed it as 'feedback' but she knew better: He was trying to rattle her for a reaction. And unfortunately, it worked. She was just about to tell him off when a voice, unfamiliar yet entirely composed spoke out: 

 

 

 

 

"Professor Park, I think what you're addressing is irrelevant to your line of questioning."

 

 

 

 

 

The professor narrowed his eyes to the front row, where the voice rang out. Nayeon followed his gaze. It was a woman. There was a challenge in Professor Park's voice when he spoke again. "I'm providing feedback,  how would that be irrelevant?"

 

 

 

 

"If you actually wanted to give constructive feedback, you would've called for a consultation." the woman said coolly. "And it would've gone to someone who actually needed it. Not someone who was one percent away from a perfect score."

 

 

 

 

Nayeon’s eyes narrowed at this woman, the fire in her throat not easing any. Who the hell did she think she was? Did Nayeon look like she needed defending? She could deal with an asshole on her own.

 

 

 

 

Regardless, before she even got the chance to speak up, Professor Park backed off, surprisingly looking vaguely impressed. "Fair point,  Ms. Park, that was wrong of me I suppose. You have my apologies Ms. Im."

 

 

 

 

Nayeon’s heart stopped entirely. Park? Could it be...?  Her eyes stayed glued to the back of the woman's head for the rest of the class. All she caught was the neat twist of a dark bun— precise, disciplined, infuriating.

 

 

 

 

She lingered after class that day, pretending to scroll through her phone while actually tracking the girl who had dared interrupt the professor on her behalf. She hadn’t had to look too long; Jihyo, if it was her, stood out. Front row, neat notes, posture too straight for someone who was supposed to be eighteen and mortal. And when she finally turned her head, Nayeon caught the sharp line of her profile: big round eyes, strong nose, clear tanned skin, lips that curved like she already knew every answer before it was asked.

 

 

 

 

Great. Of course the nerd that had been beating her scores for the last three weeks was pretty. And not just normal pretty. The type of pretty that usually got her fumbling. But her annoyance outweighed that acknowledgement.

 

 

 

 

Still, knowing her face wasn’t enough. Nayeon needed confirmation. Needed to see her name, needed to know she wasn’t just wasting her time glaring at some random diligent nobody. So when Jihyo slipped a folder into her tote bag, Nayeon made her way down a few rows and leaned in with the subtlety of a bulldozer.

 

 

 

 

"Park Jihyo?" she asked, voice pitched just loud enough to cut through the murmur of students filing out.

 

 

 

 

The girl blinked up at her, eyes brown and steady, brows drawn together. "Excuse me?"

 

 

 

 

"Park Jihyo, right? Top of the class. Consistent ninety-nine point whatever scores." Nayeon’s smile was all teeth, barely suppressing the scowl that wanted to break out. "I was wondering who the hell kept ruining my Mondays."

 

 

 

 

A flicker of something— amusement? annoyance?— passed over Jihyo’s face, but she only adjusted the strap on her bag. Eyes measuring as she did a quick once over. "You’re… Im Nayeon?"

 

 

 

 

"The one you keep beating," Nayeon clarified, too blunt to soften it.

 

 

 

 

Jihyo gave a small, noncommittal hum. It pissed Nayeon off even more that she couldn’t tell what the other woman was thinking. "If you say so."

 

 

 

 

That should have been the end of it. But Nayeon had never been good at leaving things alone once she’d committed. She stepped in closer, sizing Jihyo up properly now: the confidence in her stance, the sharp gleam in her eyes, the way she carried herself like she belonged here. The opposite of Nayeon, who had bulldozed her way into the elective through one well-placed phone call. Nayeon felt her stomach twist with something awful.

 

 

 

 

 

"I hope you aren't expecting my thanks." She said instead, actually scowling now. "I could've handled the asshole myself." 

 

 

 

 

Jihyo blinked again, lips curling downward, her first evident emotion displaying on her face. She looked a bit pissed off. For some reason that got Nayeon a little giddy.  "I wasn't expecting your thanks. He was just being unprofessional, so it was only right that someone called it out."

 

 

 

 

"Oh, and that someone had to be you?"

 

 

 

 

Jihyo’s eye twitched slightly and Nayeon was grinning now, delighted. "Ah, I see what this is. I hope you know I'm not interested in whatever competition you've convinced yourself this is. I'm busy."

 

 

 

 

 

"With what? Studying? You must live in the library," Nayeon goaded, tilting her head. "Or do you just memorize textbooks for fun? Must be exhausting."

 

 

 

That earned her an even sharper look. Nayeon felt the look skate down her spine.

 

 

 

 

"And what about you?" Jihyo’s voice was even, but it now carried an edge that wasn't there before. "I never see you at the science faculty library. Or in the assigned study groups. Or office hours. Or even really… interested, most of the time."

 

 

 

 

So Jihyo paid attention to her? Nayeon adamantly ignored the way the thought filled her chest with warmth. She needed to stay pissed.

 

 

 

 

"Probably because I'm not part of you science geeks."

 

 

 

 

 

That got Jihyo to look confused. "You're not?"

 

 

 

 

"Business major." Nayeon shrugged a shoulder. "I just like to dabble in other stuff."

 

 

 

 

 

Jihyo's jaw dropped. "How... how'd you even get in then? This was strictly recommendation from the faculty head." 

 

 

 

 

Nayeon smirked, though her stomach twisted, her giddiness at getting a rise out of Jihyo dimming ever so slightly. "Connections. I’m good enough to hold my own, obviously, so I don’t see why it matters how I got in."

 

 

 

 

The expression on Jihyo’s face shifted from mildly confused to something harder. Disgust, maybe. And for some reason it stung harder than Nayeon expected. "So you used a favor. For a class people actually wanted. And you don’t even care about it enough to use it in future?"

 

 

 

 

"Care?" Nayeon laughed, short and sharp. "It’s an elective. I’m here to win, not to worship the subject matter."

 

 

 

 

The silence that followed was cutting. Jihyo’s jaw tightened, and for the first time she looked away from Nayeon as though she couldn’t even stand to look at her. Which confused Nayeon greatly. Why would she care about alien biology all that much? It was a fun little hobby, sure. But it wasn't as though any of this was necessary knowledge. Not like Nayeon planned on working on aliens or something. 

 

 

 

 

 

"That explains everything," Jihyo said finally, voice flat. "No wonder you’re so angry about losing a competition that never existed."

 

 

 

 

Nayeon’s cheeks flared hot. She opened her mouth; something scathing was ready, lined up on her tongue, maybe even a rebuttal on how she wasn't even competing, but Jihyo was already moving past her, slipping out of the room with the same composed efficiency she called out Professor Park with.

 

 

 

 

 

Left in the echo of the classroom, Nayeon scowled at the empty doorway. She wasn’t sure if she was angrier at Jihyo for dismissing her or at herself for letting it show how much it hurt that she was being swatted away. Either way, she decided then and there: Park Jihyo wasn’t just some nerd with a higher score. She was a problem.

 

 

 

 

And Nayeon loved problems. Especially pretty ones that got her blood pumping in exhilarating ways.

 

 

 

 

By Thursday, Nayeon had almost convinced herself that the Monday encounter hadn’t happened. Almost. Except she caught herself replaying Jihyo’s tone; flat, unimpressed, like Nayeon was an insect that needed to swatted away— and her blood boiled every time. And she realized she could get addicted to the feeling if she wasn't careful.

 

 

 

 

So when Professor Park announced a new assignment at the end of lecture, Nayeon’s first thought was relief. Finally, something to focus on besides Jihyo’s irritatingly pretty face.

 

 

 

 

"You’ll be working in pairs," the professor said, scanning the room like a predator scenting prey. "Application project. Biomanufacturing models. Two weeks. Final presentation counts for twenty percent."

 

 

 

 

Groans filled the air. Nayeon leaned back in her chair, certain she’d end up paired with someone quiet and pliable she could boss around. That was the natural order of things. She already began eyeing a few people in her periphery when the unthinkable happened. 

 

 

 

 

Professor Park smirked, eyes having a dangerous glint. "I’ll assign partners in order of last week's ranking."

 

 

 

 

Her stomach dropped. Surely he'd pair her with one of the lower ranked students right? Surely he wouldn't—

 

 

 

"Im Nayeon… Park Jihyo."

 

 

 

 

Nayeon's eyes shot straight to the nerd out in front. 

 

 

 

 

Jihyo didn’t react at all, which somehow infuriated Nayeon more. She just calmly noted the assignment on her page like it was the most natural thing in the world.

 

 

 

 

They met in the library that evening, at Jihyo’s insistence. Nayeon arrived late, half on purpose. She spotted Jihyo already buried in data, while her phone was propped upright on a couple textbooks, likely on FaceTime with someone. Of course she was early. Of course she was efficient. Of course she looked annoyingly good even in a hoodie.

 

 

 

 

As Nayeon neared the table she couldn't help the way her stomach turned as she watched the way Jihyo’s face lit up into a smile as she spoke to whoever was on the other end of the call. Nayeon stopped a few paces ahead, just enough for Jihyo to notice her and turn off her phone, face morphing back into the neutral yet just shy of pissed off facial expression Nayeon had grown used to over the last few days.

 

 

 

 

"I've got to go, my partner is here. See you later." She told the other person, picking up her phone from the textbooks. "Love you, bye."

 

 

 

 

Nayeon raised a brow as she slid into the vacant seat. She heard a woman's voice greeting back before the phone turned off. She couldn’t resist probing. "Girlfriend?"

 

 

 

 

At that, a disgusted expression fell on her face and Nayeon's heart stuttered in her chest, ice filling her veins. Fuck. Didn't Jihyo like women? It wasn't like she had put actual thought it this dratted woman's sexuality. She just—

 

 

 

 

 

Before her thoughts could spiral, Jihyo answered, pocketing her phone. "Not that it should matter to you, but it was my sister."

 

 

 

 

 

For no conceivable reason, Nayeon relaxed at the explanation. It wasn’t like she cared about Jihyo's silly life though. "Oh."

 

 

 

 

 

"You’re late," Jihyo swiftly changed the subject without glancing up as she turned back to her laptop.

 

 

 

 

"And you’re bossy," Nayeon shot back, shaking off whatever weirdness compelled her to ask that question. "Guess we’re both observant."

 

 

 

Jihyo finally looked up, and that steady gaze pinned her harder than any professor’s could. She took a few breaths, closed her eyes, and then opened them again. "If this is going to work, you’ll actually have to do something. I don’t care how you got into this class, I’m not carrying most of this project, okay?"

 

 

 

 

Nayeon bristled. "Excuse me? I’ve been keeping up just fine. Better than fine. You act like I’m some slacker when the only reason you’re ahead of me is... what? Luck? A decimal point?"

 

 

 

 

"That decimal point is the difference between precision and carelessness," Jihyo said calm but cutting. "And I don’t work with careless people."

 

 

 

 

The words landed like a slap. For a moment, Nayeon almost snapped back. Almost. But something in Jihyo’s tone stopped her. The calm certainty. The lack of doubt. It all made her chest tighten instead in a way she hated. It reminded Nayeon of the way her parents would talk to her. Like she was some misbehaving child they needed to pacify.

 

 

 

 

 

And Nayeon rarely let such comments slide without payback. Even if it meant just bullshitting.

 

 

 

 

So she leaned forward, flashing her sharpest smile. "Then I guess you’ll just have to see how uncareless I can be."

 

 

 

 

Jihyo rolled her eyes and turned back to the data, muttering, "God help me."

 

 

 

 

The next evening, Nayeon actually showed up on time. Partly out of spite. She wasn’t about to give Jihyo the satisfaction of calling her late again, but partly because she had spent the day thinking of ways to prove herself. She walked into the study room with a stack of neatly highlighted notes she’d skimmed from an online summary and the smugness of someone ready to perform competence. 

 

 

 

 

 

Jihyo was already there, of course. Three textbooks open, laptop humming, handwriting impossibly neat. She glanced up when Nayeon entered, expression shocked.

 

 

 

 

"You’re early." Jihyo said, tone even more surprised than her face.

 

 

 

 

"And you’re predictable," Nayeon shot back, sliding into the chair opposite. She spread her papers across the table like a dealer at a casino. "So. Let’s get this over with."

 

 

 

 

 

Jihyo ignored the jab and tapped her screen. "The assignment is to model an existing xenobiological biomanufacturing process. We need to pick one example organism and map out how its systems could be applied to industrial production."

 

 

 

 

 

"Easy," Nayeon said. She flipped through her notes with a flourish. "We pick the flashy one. That acid-secreting microbe from the Andromeda samples. Done."

 

 

 

 

Jihyo blinked at her, brows pinching together in a way that formed a line between them. "Done...?"

 

 

 

 

"Yeah. It’s cool, it sounds impressive, and it’ll stand out. Professors eat that stuff up."

 

 

 

 

 

Jihyo stared for a beat longer, then closed her eyes like she was counting backwards from ten. God, she was easy to piss off and Nayeon wasn't even trying yet. "That microbe is unstable. Its metabolic output is unpredictable. If we pick it, our model will collapse halfway through."

 

 

 

 

 

Nayeon shrugged. "So we fudge it. Round up, round down, whatever. It’s not like anyone’s going to check the math line by line."

 

 

 

 

 

That made Jihyo snap her gaze up, sharp as glass. "You think science works like that? You think this class is just about putting on a show?"

 

 

 

 

Nayeon's eyes narrowed. She had the vague sense that she was saying the wrong thing in Jihyo's eyes. But she was just saying the truth. "Everything’s about putting on a show. Grades, presentations, companies. Nobody cares about the guts, just the gloss."

 

 

 

 

For the first time, Jihyo’s composure cracked. "Maybe you don’t care, but I do."

 

 

 

 

Nayeon's pulse spiked. "Why would you care about some alien bullshit?"

 

 

 

 

 

"Some of us are actually here because this alien bullshit matters to them and they want to make something out of it. Did you ever consider that?"

 

 

 

 

The silence stretched. Nayeon felt the weight of it pressing down, something in her gut twisting at the sheer conviction in Jihyo’s voice. She looked... more than just pissed. She looked offended. Like Nayeon had just insulted her entire bloodline and something about it made her want to take back her words. Just for a moment though. She covered it with a scoff, leaning back in her chair.

 

 

 

 

 

"Well," she said lightly, "lucky for you, you get to drag along a shallow, spoiled fraud like me on your journey of alien discovery. Should be character development."

 

 

 

 

Jihyo’s lips pressed into a thin line. "You aren't funny."

 

 

 

 

"I wasn't trying to be, sweetheart."

 

 

 

 

They went back to work in brittle silence, broken only by the scratch of Jihyo’s pen and the occasional tap of Nayeon’s nails against the table. But as the minutes crawled on, something strange happened. When Jihyo explained a metabolic pathway, Nayeon despite herself leaned in, actually following the logic. 

 

 

 

 

And when Nayeon offhandedly suggested rearranging the data visualization for clarity, Jihyo paused, considered, and admitted, "That’s… not a bad idea."

 

 

 

 

 

It was fleeting, gone as soon as it arrived, but it was enough to make Nayeon’s chest spark with a confusing mix of triumph and irritation and an unsettling warmth. She felt like she won something indistinguishable. Like Jihyo's faint acknowledgement mattered more to her than she cared to admit. By the time they packed up, the tension was thick as ever. Jihyo stood, slinging her bag over her shoulder.

 

 

 

 

"I’ll re-run the numbers tonight," she said curtly. "Just… try not to fudge them."

 

 

 

 

Nayeon leaned back in her chair, flashing her most infuriating grin. "Oh, don’t worry. I’ll let you do all the caring and work. I’m just here to look pretty."

 

 

 

 

Jihyo didn’t dignify it with a reply, only shaking her head as she walked out. Left alone, Nayeon exhaled and slumped against the chair. Her chest was going at rapid fire speeds.

 

 

 

 

 

Her notes still lay scattered across the table—half fluff, half showmanship— and all she could see was Jihyo’s unimpressed stare cutting straight through them. Straight through her. Like she could see that all Nayeon was bullshit arguments, aimed barbs, and wasted smarts. 

 

 

 

 

Like she saw straight through the shell and was disappointed. What Nayeon hated most was how much that apparently mattered.

 

 

 

Chapter 7: Coincidence (ii)

Summary:

In which Sana prepares herself for a fight that'll never happen, and breaks a heart in the process.

 

Or,

 

part two of the unseen but familiar snapshots of sana's journey reckoning with the fact that finding her mate was perhaps not the end of her life as she knew it.

Notes:

Late Bloomer funfact #7: Sana's base character was much meaner than she ended up being in this. But I just kept seeing pics of real life Sana being all smiley and I could not imagine making her mean. Even fictionally, lol.

 

Enjoy!!

 

 

It wasn’t coincidence anymore. Sana had messed up— badly. This wasn’t happenstance or accident. It was entirely her own, idiotic doing.

 

 

 

 

She shouldn’t have taken her mate. Shouldn’t have dragged her into Nayeon’s not-so-secret lab. Shouldn’t have done a lot of things but she had done them anyway.

 

 

 

 

And now she was pacing outside the  containment room, caught between holding herself together and keeping Momo from unraveling too. Her chest felt tight, breaths shallow, panic pressing at the edges. She’d already said everything’s okay, we’ll figure it out a dozen times, maybe more. The words were starting to sound hollow, like they were losing their meaning even as she clung to them.

 

 

 

 

But she didn’t expect it to be her mate's first rut. Didn't expect her to react so viscerally to Sana's scent either. And worse of all, she didn't expect to... react the way she did either. 

 

 

 

 

It wasn’t just the alpha pheromones clawing at her, trying to pull Sana out, whether her mate realized it or not. What stunned her was the instinct that overrode everything else— the urge to go toward her mate. To soothe. To help.

 

 

 

 

The broken whimpers, the rough growls slipping past her mate's lips flipped something inside her. Her mate needed her. And Sana… answered. She couldn’t stop herself. She shouldn’t have, but she did. And now she’d dragged Momo into the fallout

 

 

 

 

It was selfish, probably. Unethical. And most definitely reckless. 

 

 

 

 

 

But she couldn’t just leave her. Not when every part of her screamed that this woman, this stranger, was hurting and needed her. Some distant, stubborn corner of her brain— the one that always whispered the stupidest things insisted she couldn’t abandon her mate in her first rut.

 

 

 

 

Sana knew how that felt. God, she knew. Her first heat had traumatized her. The pain had been brutal, but it was the loneliness that carved deepest. When your body was burning alive, begging for one person and that person wasn’t there… the emptiness hollowed you out. And Sana’s body refused to let her mate feel that emptiness. Even if her mind called her every version of idiot.

 

 

 

 

 

It didn’t erase the fact that Sana was also scared shitless though. 

 

 

 

 

She managed to keep her cool in front of Momo, even electing to be the one to carry her mate all the way here. But it wasn't lost on her in just how much of a vulnerable position she was in. They were dealing with a rutting alpha. And it was her first time as well, arguably the most volatile one. 

 

 

 

 

Sana’s dad used to warn her about unmated alphas— stories of ruts so violent they flattened whole buildings. She’d seen it herself once, when Momo’s uncle snapped his brother's jaw clean in two before containment dragged him away. And if Thilian alphas were worse than Zertmites… God, what had she just brought into Nayeon’s lab? She had just taken one out of whatever culmination of pity and biological obligation inclined her to. She was an idiot. An idiot with a death wish apparently. 

 

 

 

 

It was only when Sana started floating ever so slightly, that she realized she needed to get herself in order. Quick.

 

 

 

She spun on her heel suddenly, startling an already on-edge Momo. "Okay, here's the plan."

 

 

 

 

"I'm listening," Momo stopped dead in her tracks, wide eyes peering at her.

 

 

 

 

"We go in, check her bindings and wait for her to wake up where we will promptly explain that we are not her enemy and then... we hope for the best. The sedative should keep at least mildly lucid."

 

 

 

 

Momo scoffed. "Hope for the best? You can't  be serious. And what if we get the worst?"

 

 

 

 

"Then... I hope you are prepared to throw a punch or two."

 

 

 

 

"Sana!"

 

 

 

 

Sana sighed, swallowing down the lump in her throat. "Look, I'm trying my best here. I'm sorry... I really couldn't leave her there."

 

 

 

 

"Couldn't or wouldn't?"

 

 

 

Sana didn’t answer that. Especially not with the look Momo tossed in her direction like she understood something Sana wasn't ready to acknowledge yet. So, instead she just walked to the containment room's door and pulled Momo by the arm.

 

 

 

 

"C'mon, on your guard." 

 

 

 

 

"We're doing to get our asses kicked..." Momo mumbled to her but followed regardless. 

 

 

 

 

 

Immediately when they got inside, and the door closed behind them, Sana was hit with the scent she dreaded and nearly keeled over again as she held onto her nose. An alpha's musk... but it was surprisingly sweet. Sana could not get over that part. And Sana could recall picking out a million different other alpha scents when she still lived on Zerth. They grated at her. Made her sick most times. But they never smelled this good. Never made her chest rumble in a way she was unfamiliar with.

 

 

 

 

It scared her.

 

 

 

"You okay?" Momo asked, nose crinkling but other than that she seemed unbothered by the scent.

 

 

 

 

Sana forced her hand away at that. She could do this goddammit. "I'm fine." 

 

 

 

 

Momo just nodded and moved to the far end of the room where the mattress was pushed up against. Sana followed, blinking through the sharp, cloying scent that pressed at her senses, forcing her chest to tighten. Her eyes took in the scene in pieces: the chains, the hair, the stripped supersuit, and her stomach churned.

 

 

 

 

They had done what they could to make her mate comfortable, as comfortable as someone bound like this could be. It was still inhumane, still wrong, but there was no other choice. Not with Nayeon’s newly refurbished labs, and not with the danger she knew waited in every unchecked moment.

 

 

 

"Y'know," Momo started, as they hovered over the serene sleeping face of Sana's mate. "She looks kinda cute like this."

 

 

 

 

Sana’s throat tightened. Her mate did look cute—peaceful even— as she slept. Cute in a way she wasn’t supposed to. Tank top, shorts, probably dressed casually before her suit had been activated. Sana had taken off her boots so they wouldn’t weigh her down. Curled on her side, cuffed hands tucked beneath her chin, she looked like a sleeping puppy. Harmless. Safe.

 

 

 

 

And yet, every logical part of her brain screamed trap.

 

 

 

 

Sana lingered behind Momo almost without thinking, her muscles taut, pulse quickening. She needed the buffer, someone she could trust if she lost control. Pride kept her from clinging to Momo’s side— even though she knew Momo couldn’t protect her— but she hung just far enough away to feel some semblance of safety. Her stomach churned, chest tight, hands itching to reach out and soothe, even as her mind

 

 

 

 

But then her mate whimpered in her sleep, curling more into herself as she shook a little,  as though she were wounded.

 

 

 

Sana sprang forward before she knew what she was doing, dropping to the mattress, hand sinking into her mate’s hair. The woman stilled instantly, a soft sigh slipping from her lips, recognition without words. Sana froze, horrified at herself. Instinct. Just instinct. Nothing more.

 

 

 

 

Momo cleared her throat, which got Sana’s attention on her immediately. She raised a brow, next words mockingly high pitched. "'I don’t want a mate', she said."

 

 

 

 

Sana scowled but didn't remove her hand. "I don't."

 

 

 

 

"Whatever you say."

 

 

 

 

Sana looked back down at her mate, who had stilled underneath her touch. "She sounded hurt, I'm just... helping. It's the least I could do since I'm probably the one who triggered her to go into rut anyway." 

 

 

 

 

Yeah... yeah! That was it. It made complete sense. She was just feeling guilty for having triggered her mate's rut after she had caught a whiff of Sana's scent after tearing part of her suit. Before Momo could say anything more annoying, Sana's mate stirred awake. 

 

 

 

 

Sana froze. Heart sinking as dark, hazy, unfocused eyes blinked up at her blearily and just stayed on her face. Sana pulled her hand back as though she were burned, but her mate didn't move. She just stared. Looking almost... awed? Sana’s confusion momentarily kept her rising anxiety at bay as she waited for her mate to do something. She wasn't sure what, just anything else besides the loaded look she was getting that pricked at her skin.

 

 

 

 

Thankfully, Momo put Sana's mind back on track. "Is she supposed to wake up so soon?"

 

 

 

"I don't know." Sana replied and the woman below her just blinked, eyes briefly flitting to Sana's hair before they strayed back to her face.

 

 

 

 

Sana's brows furrowed. What the hell?  She... hadn't been expecting this. She wasn't sure what she expected a rutting alpha to be like, but it certainly wasn't this. Not quiet and contemplative. It was unnerving almost.

 

 

 

"Do you think we were too rough with her?"

 

 

 

 

"I don't know."

 

 

 

Sana's mind reeled with all the possibilities as the other woman's stare didn't falter. It almost got her to squirm. Was it maybe a false rut? Some other chemical blip? Brain damage? God. Sana didn't know what to do with this. 

 

 

 

"Why is she looking at you like that? Can she tell you're her—"

 

 

 

Sana’s gaze snapped back to Momo, groaning as she threw her hands up in frustration.  "Oh my god, Momo! My experience with Thilian alphas is not exactly extensive, so I dont know!"

 

 

 

 

It was then that her mate decided to move. She attempted to sit, with the slowness of someone amidst a dream, but the chains held her back. Her mouth opened as though she were breathing in the air for the first time, leaning towards Sana.

 

 

 

 

And that was enough to jolt some fear back into Sana. She leaned back, out of the woman's grasp almost instinctively. Then, like a gut punch, the woman whimpered again sinking into the mattress like Sana had just kicked her down.

 

 

 

 

Stunned, Sana could do nothing else besides stare.

 

 

 

 

"Hey! No, none of that!" Momo all but hopped forward, waving her hands in the woman's face. She clicked her fingers a few times, not even getting a wince out of the pouting woman. "Shit, she's out of it. I dont think she's lucid. Is she supposed to be like this?"

 

 

 

 

 

Sana stepped behind Momo, furrow of her brow deepening when her mate whimpered again, this time sounding even more wounded, hazy eyes glistening. Was... was she about to cry? Just because Sana moved away? Her mind spun, frozen on the spot as conflicting emotions hit her from all directions. 

 

 

 

 

"Something’s wrong. Her scent is a little less strong, so she is probably still in preparation of her rut but I don't think she's supposed to be this... subdued? Even with the sedative. " Sana stepped close to Momo, attempting to find her equilibrium again. All... this suddenly felt overwhelming. "She's supposed to be more aggressive and, I don't know, more huffy and growly?"

 

 

 

 

"Huffy and Growly. Wow, always such a wordsmith Sana."

 

 

 

Sana shoved Momo’s shoulder. "You know what I mean."

 

 

 

"What if we used too much silver?"

 

 

 

"We barely used any. It was like 7ml!"

 

 

 

Sana tried to ignore the way her mate’s eyes pinned her, but she couldn’t. They were a mix of wounded, awed, and petulant, and it sent her chest tightening. She was... out of her depth, utterly unprepared for the weight of being seen like this.

 

 

 

 

And the worst part? She realized, with a sinking lurch, that in this state, every motion, every word, every breath she took would affect her mate. The power to soothe— or shatter— rested entirely with her.

 

 

 
It was destabilizing. And wrong in a way she didn't know how to name. Everything she's learnt about alphas let her believe it was the other way around.
 
 

 

 

So when her mate violently jerked back, like she’d snapped out of a trance, Sana exhaled; too fast, too shaky. Relief hit her in a rush. But under it, something colder twisted in her gut. Whatever this was, it wasn’t over.

 

 

 

 

Sana didn’t remember much of the conversation after her mate— whose name she learnt was Mina— jerked back to lucidity. It all happened pretty quickly. Her hands shook inside her gloves, the phantom warmth of soft hair still clinging to her fingers even as she listened to Momo fumbling through explanations and apologies. How Momo tried explaining that they hadn't kidnapped her mate (even though they technically did). She hated that her body ached for more contact, even as her mind screamed idiot, reckless, too close.

 

 

 

 

Then— click! A latch snapping shut in her mind, just like her cousin had warned.

 

 

 

 

She felt it the moment Mina's aware eyes strayed to hers a little too long. And Sana saw it then, the mate acknowledgment registering for the other woman too. The way Mina's body twitched with the feeling even as she tried so adamantly to redirect her focus to Momo. And Sana... felt her heart stop entirely. Barbed wire tightened around her windpipe.

 

 

 

No! She wanted to yell, but she felt frozen. Her limbs went slack, the shaking in her hands even going as far as stiling. 

 

 

 

Momo said something, she couldn’t quite register what, but Sana only nodded in agreement, forcing her face blank. She needed to look composed, even if her insides felt like glass rattling loose in their frame. When Mina settled again, once she and Momo agreed to uncuffing her and calling her sister. 

 

 

 

 

Sana exhaled hard through her nose, as she left the room, only vaguely paying attention to Momo’s rambles as she dialed up the number Mina had given her. Relief and dread tangled sharp in her chest.

 

 

 

 

She told Momo she needed a few moments of air. Momo let her go, kindly handling the problem Sana had dragged her into. Outside, breathing in air that didn’t reek of alpha and control, Sana felt some of her wits return. She walked a few blocks, lost in thought. Time stretched strangely— an hour? Forever? She knew she owed Momo somehow, but she couldn’t function until she felt like herself again.

 

 

 

 

Without fear clawing at her chest. Without the knowledge that her life was teetering on the edge of change. She should leave. Walk away before the bond took root, before she made another mistake. Retreat to her apartment and pretend none of this ever happened. Hide. Protect herself. Do anything to quiet the screaming in every fiber of her being.

 

 

 

But when her feet finally moved, they carried her not to her car… but back to the labs.

 

 

 

 

When she saw Momo in the waiting room, stressed and speaking with a disgruntled, shorter woman, Sana swerved sharply, heart hammering, and slipped into the side hallway leading to the containment room without catching either of their attention. She probably owed Momo a full buffet by now, but that could wait. Right now, there was a pressing matter she had to face—and she wanted to rip off the bandage herself, fast, before her nerves unraveled completely.

 

 

 

 

It was time to set the air straight. If worse comes to worst— she glanced down at the retractable clawtips of her gloves— she'd be prepared to defend herself. But for now, a last act of kindness. 

 

 

 

 

She picked up a small basin in the supply closet in the hallway, filled it with cool water, wringing out the cloth with trembling hands. If she couldn’t trust herself with words, at least she could make herself useful.

 

 

 

 

So she went in. Sat down in front of the mattress of an unconscious Mina in a fresh set of clothes but the same probing alpha scent emitting from her. It was weaker now, and Sana managed to breathe just a little better. Watching. Waiting. Pretending her chest wasn’t splitting at the seams each time Mina stirred.

 

 

 

 

The urge was terrifying. Years of restraint, of avoidance, and here she was, one breath away from touching. She told herself it was just duty — checking her pulse, making sure she was stable. But when her fingers brushed cool skin, relief shot through her like lightning, raw and dangerous.

 

 

 

 

The fifth time Mina stirred, Sana was ready. Too ready, maybe. The cloth in her hand had gone lukewarm from how long she’d been gripping it. She’d been dabbing at Mina’s skin every time she twitched or whimpered in her half-sleep, trying not to think too hard about the intimacy of it. It wouldn't mean anything if she didn't make it mean anything. It was just a last act of kindness towards her, before the fragile civility between them broke.

 

 

 

 

 

The damp cloth slipped over Mina’s temple, and finally, finally, the other woman sighed— soft, relieved. Not pushing her away. Sana froze for the umpteenth time that day, holding her breath until Mina’s lashes fluttered.

 

 

 

 

Mina blinked up at her, soft and hazy, and for a heartbeat Sana forgot how to breathe. She searched desperately for anger, for accusation, for anything that might match what she had prepared herself for. Instead, Mina’s gaze was steady, unguarded. Curious, almost gentle.

 

 

 

 

Mina inhaled sharply, and Sana knew the moment her scent hit her. Heat and recognition flared in her eyes. Sana pressed her lips together, forcing her own restless heart into silence. She shouldn’t be here. She shouldn’t want to be here. And yet—

 

 

 

Mina visibly eased, some of the restless fight draining out of her as if Sana’s presence alone was an anchor. That simple reaction hurt and soothed in equal measure. Mina didn't look as dazed as she was the first time but Sana could tell she wasn't dealing with the entirely lucid and guarded woman she had left when she went on her walk. Unsure of what really to do, Sana pulled her knees up to her chest, hugging them.

 

 

 

 

Mina’s lips curved upward; soft, dazed, achingly vulnerable, lulling Sana into a false sense of security she wouldn't allow herself to fall into. She reminded herself it was a trap. Fake. She bit down hard on her lip, forcing herself to look thoughtful instead of helpless. She didn’t return the smile. She couldn’t. Wouldn't. 

 

 

 

 

Sana tried to armor herself in silence, to retreat behind the walls she’d built brick by brick. But Mina’s attention pressed against every crack. So she armored herself by directing the conversation instead.

 

 

 

"Hey," she said quietly, wringing the cloth before dipping it back into the basin. Her voice felt too loud. She cleared her throat, trying to be casual and ignore the fact that she could feel her pulse drumming in her ears. "How are you feeling?"

 

 

 

 

That felt neutral enough. Firmer grounds to diffuse a potential fallout. 

 

 

 

 

"Better." Mina rasped, clearing her throat.

 

 

 

 

Sana only nodded, because if she said more she might say too much. Instead, she reached forward, brushing damp strands of hair from Mina’s forehead. The gesture lingered too long, almost meaning something, before she pulled her hand back quickly. Her fingers itched to continue, to soothe, to comfort. But she didn’t trust herself. Just as much as she didn't trust who was in front of her.

 

 

 

 

Mina stared openly now, eyes drinking her in with such intensity it made Sana’s skin feel too tight. She wanted to look away but couldn’t, pinned by the unguarded awe in those heavy-lidded eyes. And Sana... she wasn’t sure she what that meant in this context. What Mina’s awe would lead to. How she planned on claiming her, maybe.

 

 

 

 

She clenched her gloved hands tighter around her knees, praying Mina wouldn’t notice the panic behind her calm mask. She shouldn’t be here. Why wasn't Mina saying it yet? She obviously knew... so why—

 

 

 

 

 

"You’re staring," she forced herself to say, tone deliberately light, though her pulse stuttered. She couldn’t bring herself to get those words out. She needed Mina to acknowledge it first. To blow up so that Sana had stable footing to defend herself on. "Something on your mind?

 

 

 

 

The reply was nothing she expected. "You choked me."

 

 

 

 

Sana startled, then gave the smallest, rueful smile before she could stop it. Relaxing just a fraction. "And you hit me with a light pole."

 

 

 

 

"Only after you shoved me into that light pole."

 

 

 

 

"Point taken," Sana almost laughed at the absurdity of the encounter. It felt like so long ago now. Mina didn’t sound accusatory, just contemplative and that somehow made her guilt worse. "I'm sorry about that. For both attacks. Meretodes are parasites that can latch onto any host so you really shouldn't touch them and it looked like you were about to. As for the choking thing... I thought you were going to hurt Momo and I sort of, I don't know, panicked."

 

 

 

 

She was rambling, she knew, but she suddenly had the desire to explain herself under the thoughtful gaze of the woman who's mind Sana couldn’t read. She couldn’t tell what her intentions were with these questions and that alone made her skin prick. And she relaxed again, until Mina's next question pierced her deeper.

 

 

 

 

"Why did you deactivate my mask in Itaewon?" Her voice was soft, as though she were trying to coax a fragile truth out of Sana. "Was it just to stun me?"

 

 

 

 

Sana should've lied. Should have said yes, that she only did it to escape. But Mina’s eyes pinned her down with an overwhelming urge to tell the truth. Her usual eloquence long forgotten. Because the truth was, it was impulse. Not to subdue her. Not to trap her. To see the woman she had only dreamt of in fragments. 

 

 

 

 

The truth slipped out before Sana could hide it: "I just…wanted— needed to see your face. Like something compelled me to. I don't really know what." 

 

 

 

 

 

Mina's eyes glistened again, she looked almost reverent. "You called me beautiful."

 

 

 

 

 

It was the objective truth so Sana didn’t lie. She had been thinking about Mina's beauty since Itaewon. "You are."

 

 

 

 

"You called me your beauty."

 

 

 

 

Sana wanted to disappear when Mina pointed out the exact phrasing she had used. She hadn’t meant to say it aloud, hadn’t meant to let something so old, so sacred, slip free. The awe in her voice must have given her away. She tried to backpedal, to breathe around the weight of it. 

 

 

 

 

The words slipped out before she could stop them. "You… are."

 

 

 

A lie. Mina wasn’t hers. Couldn’t be. But her chest still ached like it held truth. She wasn't Sana's anything. Sana didn’t want her. Didn’t want the bond that made it feel like she'd be subjugated to a life of shame and submission. Sana... couldn’t lose herself that way. She wouldn't. 

 

 

 

 

And then Mina leaned closer to the edge of the mattress.

 

 

 

Every muscle in Sana’s body went rigid. Instinct screamed at her to close the gap, to fall into the bond, to give in. But fear screamed louder. The single thought polluting her mind: This was it. This was the moment she had to fight against, no matter how much her body disagreed. Her face tightened, apprehension spilling through before she could mask it, and Mina froze. Surprisingly. Almost as though she could pick up on Sana's discomfort. 

 

 

 

 

The reprieve came in the form of a question about Momo. Safe ground. Familiar. She clung to it like a lifeline, explaining quietly, watching Mina’s reaction. Each question that followed tugged a little more from her, until she admitted the truth of Zerth, of Thilia, of loss. Mina’s pity cut deeper than cruelty ever could. She didn’t want to be pitied. She didn’t want to be seen so clearly either.

 

 

 

 

It was only when she had to stop herself from giving away too much of her ties to their home planet that she realized she was being disarmed. She was calming Sana so that she'd be more open to attack. Lulling her into a sense of safety. Swiftly. Effortlessly. And terrifyingly, Sana realized that perhaps Thilian alphas were more of a threat than she initially thought. Or... perhaps it was just Mina. 

 

 

 

 

That made her even more dangerous. This wasn’t supposed to be possible. The confrontation she had braced for— years of it— had vanished. No screaming, no claiming, no proof that all her fears were right. Just this calm, this unbearable curiosity. Her stomach twisted. Her heart clawed. She didn’t know how to stand her ground against someone who wasn’t fighting her.

 

 

 

 

"You’re not what I imagined you’d be like," Sana confessed, her voice low. "You’re easy to talk to."

 

 

 

 

Almost too easy. It made it feel like this was normal. Like Sana wasn’t just one step away from losing it all. The silence that followed weighed too much, her chest tight with everything unsaid. Why wasn't Mina acknowledging it? Did she... not know? Was Sana going insane over nothing? When Sana glanced at her face this time again, Mina almost looked guilty. Like she thought she did something wrong. It drove Sana over the edge.

 

 

 

 

"Are you mad at m—"

 

 

 

 

Sana didnt let Mina finish the question that would've made her feel worse. Instead she asked the question she shouldn’t.  

 

 

 

 

"You've figured it out by now, haven't you?" Her voice cracked despite her best effort. "You... felt it, right? The thing between us?"

 

 

 

 

 

Mina’s nod nearly broke her. The quiet certainty in her voice: "Yes, I felt it. I'm guessing you did too."

 

 

 

 

That deepened the rift inside her. She wondered if Mina even understood the weight of it, and when she answered, Sana felt fear press hard against her lungs. She couldn’t stop herself from asking: "Are you mad at me?"

 

 

 

 

And when Mina said no, so simply, so openly — Sana couldn’t believe it. Mina looked confused, like the thought of being mad at Sana had never even crossed her mind. And Sana had no idea what to do with that. The part of Sana’s mind she most relied on– the logical part, the part she was most familiar with– was stunningly silent, so Sana was just lost. And not the scrambling lost she could come back from, just... lost.

 

 

 

 

This was not the confrontation she had braced for over the years. She should’ve been screaming by now, fighting tooth and nail for her autonomy. Instead, she was calmly sitting across from a woman who looked at her like she hung the damn moon.

 

 

 

 

It rewired her brain in real time.

 

 

 

Then Mina asked her House name, jolting her system back into motion. This is it, Sana thought. The fallout I’ve been waiting for. Mina just needed the reminder of what Sana had done so that she could show her true self. 

 

 

 

 

 

Her throat closed around the truth, but she forced it out anyway. "Minatozaki."

 

 

 

 

And she waited, braced to defend herself.

 

 

 

 

 

The shift in Mina was immediate... but not the way Sana had braced for. No fire, no rage. Just a quiet collapse. Her heart breaking right there in front of Sana.

 

 

 

 

Mina’s eyes dropped to her bare pinky, to the engraved initials of Sana’s name. Sana refused to follow her gaze. She kept her focus on Mina’s face, watching the tiny tremor of her bottom lip, the shimmer gathering in her eyes. Her chest seized. No. Not this. This... this wasn’t what was supposed to be happening. Alphas don't break like this.

 

 

 

 

But Mina didn’t cry yet. No, instead she questioned Sana more. On how long she's been eartbound. And Sana answered, fumbling, unprepared, her stomach twisting tighter with each word.

 

 

 

 

 

When Mina finally spoke again, her voice was soft and edged with grief. "You knew I was here, didn't you?"

 

 

 

 

Sana said nothing. She couldn’t. And that silence was enough. Mina’s expression shuttered, the light in her eyes snuffed out. Like Sana herself had stomped on it.

 

 

 

 

 

"I mourned you, Sana." Mina broke eye contact, staring in spot between them. "Do you know that? I thought you were dead."

 

 

 

 

The tears came then, silent and raw, and Sana’s own chest ached with helpless guilt. She wanted to reach out, to soothe, but fear of her own touch rooted her arms tight around her knees. Mina’s grief poured out in jagged waves: mourning, years of loneliness, thinking she’d been left behind forever. And Sana just sat there, taking each word like a lash, because she had no defense that wouldn’t make it worse.

 

 

 

 

 

Her breath hitched when Mina mentioned love — and cut herself off too quickly, as though baring it would wound her further. But Sana heard it. Felt it lodge bitterly inside her chest. God, was Sana... wrong? Everything in her resisted the notion, but the more she watched Mina cry, the more she watched her break, the more Sana got the sense that the fallout she had expected wasn't coming.

 

 

 

 

When Mina asked why, all she could say was the truth. The ugly, selfish truth. Because she was scared. Scared of the wrong alpha. Scared of losing herself. Scared of being trapped forever. The look on Mina’s face nearly destroyed her then. Hurt, shattering quietly, tears falling soundlessly down her cheeks. Not anger. Not violence. Just devastation. And that was worse than anything Sana had braced for.

 

 

 

 

 

She wanted to apologize, to beg, to undo every word. But she couldn’t. Because she had meant them. Even if Mina’s heartbreak made her wish she hadn’t.

 

 

 

And then Mina, through the ache in her voice, said the worst thing she could have: "Don't apologize. You don't owe me anything."

 

 

 

 

The words sliced sharper than rage ever could. Because they were the same words Sana had been telling herself for years. The same words her father had drilled into her. That she didn't owe an alpha anything. Not her submission. Not her kindness. Not her time.

 

 

 

 

But looking at Mina — Sana felt like she did owe her. She... was gentle. Warm. Good even while breaking. And the fact that she had nothing to give made her sick.

 

 

 

She trembled, throat raw, trying to hold herself together while the bond stretched thinner and thinner between them. Mina didn’t lash out. Didn’t prove her fears of feral possession right. She just… broke. Quietly. As if she didn’t even want to bother Sana with her grief. Somehow, that was worse.

 

 

 

 

Sana stared, unable to stop herself, eyes burning and chest heavy. She locked onto Mina’s face, memorizing the devastation she’d caused. Mina refused to meet her eyes, and Sana didn’t blame her. She had already caused enough damage. 

 

 

 

 

 

Silence pressed heavy between them. For a heartbeat, it felt like the storm had passed. But then Mina shifted— and Sana remembered why she’d been afraid to come here in the first place.

 

 

 

 

Mina’s scent sharpened, richer, overwhelming. It slammed into Sana like a wave. Her eyes snapped to Mina again, and even through the grief, Mina looked at her with softness, with awe — like she was the most beautiful thing she’d ever seen. The bond yanked at Sana’s chest until she thought she’d choke on it. She wanted to lean into it. Wanted to be wanted, even if it wasn’t real.

 

 

 

 

Then Mina cursed under her breath, sweat beading her brow.

 

 

 

Sana straightened instantly, alarm sparking in her chest. "What’s wrong?"

 

 

 

 

"You should leave, Sana."

 

 

 

 

The words cut deeper than she’d expected. Her heart clenched and then Mina’s scent flared again, undeniable. Strong enough to steal Sana’s breath.

 

 

 

Oh.

 

 

She dropped her eyes before she could stop herself, gaze flicking downward towards the growing bulge in Mina's compression shorts. Heat curled low in her belly despite her resistance. Mina’s rut was unfurling around her like wildfire.

 

 

 

 

Sana’s throat worked. She forced her gaze back up, tried to ignore the ache building in her chest. Mina closed her eyes, shoving herself back against the corner of the mattress, fighting herself to keep away. Was... she doing it for Sana's sake? The sight made Sana ache — watching her mate curl in on herself, trembling, denying her own need just so Sana wouldn’t feel threatened.

 

 

 

 

Her name broke from Mina’s lips like a plea, muffled against her knees. She said her sister Jihyo would be back soon. That she'd take a pill. That Sana should go. She tried reasoning without outright admitting what was happening. 

 

 

 

 

But Sana didn’t move. She couldn’t. She just sat there, breath shallow, pulse loud in her ears. She tried to ignore the way her own body responded; the quickening of her heartbeat, the flush crawling up her neck, the unbearable pull to get closer. This was the most dangerous spot for her to be in right now. Even if Mina showed her kinder side while lucid, Sana couldn’t be certain something else would come out of her in this time. 

 

 

 

And yet...

 

 

 

 

"Mina…" Her voice was softer than she intended, heavy with awe she couldn’t contain. "Bite me."

 

 

 

 

The reaction was immediate. Mina stiffened, shaking her head hard. "What? No."

 

 

 

 

Sana leaned forward despite herself, unable to stand seeing Mina unravel while she sat back uselessly. The mattress dipped under her weight as she crawled closer, gently lifting Mina’s head with her gloved hands.

 

 

 

 

For one dizzying second, she had her where she wanted her — gazing up at Sana like she was the most important person in the world, lips parted, cheeks flushed. And... Sana liked it more than she cared to admit. But she shoved the thought down and forced her voice sharp. 

 

 

 

 

"Now’s not the time to be stubborn." One hand pulled her collar down, exposing the soft skin of her neck. Her pulse hammered beneath it. Mina’s eyes locked there, pupils blown wide. Sana’s own stomach fluttered with terror and anticipation. "If you bite me, your rut will be over sooner. It doesn’t have to mean anything."

 

 

 

 

The lie burned before the words had even left her mouth. Of course it meant something. Of course it would change everything. Because there was the slight chance that an alpha bite would seal the deal. Would make her dependent on the alpha.

 

 

 

 

But she told herself those chances were slim. And that she could take it, that she could bear the weight of being partly taken if it was done on her terms. That she was balming over the wound she left. She braced, every nerve alight, waiting for teeth.

 

 

 

But Mina’s gaze dragged up to her face instead. And whatever she saw there— the tension in Sana’s jaw, the resignation in her eyes — made her pull back.

 

 

 

 

"Leave," Mina growled, pulling her hands away, even through the gloves. The contact seared through Sana’s skin, but the rejection seared deeper. "Now."

 

 

 

 

She rocked back onto her heels, stunned. Her astonishment was quickly overridden by defiance and that defiance hardened into anger. It rose before she could stop it, curling hot through her chest, spilling into her scent. She hated how it made her voice sharp, but she couldn’t hold it back. 

 

 

 

 

"Are you being serious right now? I’m offering you an easy fix. And I told you it doesn’t have to mean anything!" She sounded petulant, but she honestly couldn't stop it. 

 

 

 

 

Mina’s tone softened into something pleading. "Just go. Please, Sana."

 

 

 

 

The word please cut her temper short— she could never be mad when someone used soft pleas like that— but not her frustration. She scoffed, trying to hide the sting, and got to her feet in one smooth motion. She couldn’t bear to sit there and be rejected twice in one day. As a mate, and now as a solution. Both of which were her own doing technically but she couldn't manage a coherent thought. Her chest was burning with too many things at once.

 

 

 

 

"I can’t believe you," she muttered, sharper than she meant to, before storming out.

 

 

 

 

The door slammed behind her, rattling the frame. Better that than shattering in front of Mina. Better to run than let the bond drag her back. She pressed her back to the other side of the door, hand clutching the fabric over her heart, breathing fast. Anger, shame, fear and underneath all of it, something far more dangerous.

 

 

 

 

The unshakable pull to go back inside. To give in. But she didn’t. She forced herself down the hall, away from the scent, away from the bond screaming at her. Because Mina had told her to leave. And the least Sana could do was listen.

 

 

 

 

Leaving was all she seemed to be good for anyway.

 

 

 

Chapter 8: Change

Summary:

In which Jihyo learns to accept that Mina doesn't need her as much anymore.

 

Or,

 

just a few snapshots of mihyo through the eyes of a disgruntled jihyo.

Notes:

Late Bloomer funfact #8: Late Bloomer is technically the first work I've ever completed lol. But not the first I've written. Everything else, i either scrapped before completing or they never saw the light of day. So sorry if you were on wattpad around 2016–2018 and happened to stumble across my work one day, only to see it deleted the next week lol. (Especially sorry to all the Un-Charming fans, I deleted everything from that, don't even remember the mc name. I was really so young and evil). Hope I made up for it in spirit if by the odd chance you got here somehow :D

 

Enjoy!!!

 

 

 

Jihyo was eight years old when the sky had cracked open above her family's vineyard. Eight years old and restless, when she decided she was truly the only one fit to protect Mina forever.

 

 

 

 

Looking back, it was one of her more rash decisions in life. But Jihyo was nothing if not an initiator. 

 

 

 

 

As the only child of the renowned CEO of a fortune 500 pharmaceutical company,  and a highly esteemed neurosurgeon, Jihyo was afforded many avenues to express her interests in. She was privileged in the way that others weren't and she had known from the moment she could talk and walk, that she'd take advantage of the devices at her disposal.

 

 

 

 

 

If you asked anyone, they’d say Jihyo was always fast-paced; running, leaping, talking too loud, throwing herself headfirst into everything. She was the kind of child who raced the sun to get things done, who could sprint from ballet lessons to soccer practice to piano recitals and still stay up late reading by flashlight. Even as a little girl, she burned with too much energy to ever sit still. A genius with an energy with no focus.

 

 

 

 

It was because of this restless energy that she wasn't really surprised that she found Mina the way she did. Jihyo, after all, was always the first to react. The first to reach out when others might've hesitated. 

 

 

 

 

It happened in November, and they were spending the week at the Park family winefarm in Yeongdong. Jihyo was playing amongst the vines, stealing grapes when her parents weren't looking when she heard it. The crack! in sky that made everything go quiet.

 

 

 

 

Jihyo had never heard the sky make that sound before.

 

 

 

 

It wasn’t thunder. Thunder she knew—autumn storms cracked across the valley every year, rolling over the vineyards with a sound like drums. Especially around this time if year, with the autumn leading into the cold winter of December. This was different. This was sharper, tearing, like the heavens had been ripped in two.

 

 

 

 

She was sitting between the rows of vines with her hands sticky from grape skins, her mouth purple-stained from stealing fruit she wasn’t supposed to touch yet. The air was calm. The cicadas hummed. And then the sound split the world apart.

 

 

 

The ground jumped under her palms. Birds shrieked into the sky, their wings flashing against the late sun. Jihyo gasped, staring upward just in time to see it: a streak of fire dragging a thick scar of smoke across the clouds. Too low. Too fast. It disappeared beyond the hill, and a second later the valley shuddered with a deep, metal scream. 

 

 

 

 

Something had fallen. And for some reason, she felt compelled to go check. To go see. It was a recklessness she'd never be able to describe, even years as she pondered the meeting. 

 

 

 

 

For one heartbeat she was frozen. Then her body burst forward, legs pumping, cutting through the vines even as they snagged at her socks. The smell rolled over her before she even reached the hilltop; burning earth, scorched leaves, and underneath it all, something bright and biting, like metal melted into air. She crested the rise and stumbled to a stop.

 

 

 

 

The screaming voices of her parents behind her muffled. 

 

 

 

 

The vineyard below was unrecognizable. Rows of vines were flattened like toy soldiers kicked over. Soil had been torn open in a deep gouge that still hissed with smoke. At its center lay a twisted hulk of silver-gray metal, dented and folded in on itself, its edges glowing faintly. It almost looked like a capsule, just supersized. It's cover had broken off.

 

 

 

 

And beside it, a girl. At least, Jihyo thought it was a girl. 

 

 

 

 

Small and crumpled, knees drawn to her chest. Her skin was too pale— pale in a way that didn’t look right. She was in what Jihyo could've only described as a maroon tunic, Jihyo used to see in those Roman era movies her dad loved. 

 

 

 

 

Her skin seemed to ripple like scales with every breath she took, before they settled into place. Like her skin was adapting to the air itself. Her dark hair stuck to her cheeks, wet with dark red sweat or blood. For one awful moment Jihyo thought she might be dead.

 

 

 

 

Then the girl’s eyes opened.

 

 

 

 

Jihyo staggered back. They weren’t like any eyes she’d ever seen— too dark with no white parts, as if the night sky had been poured into them and left no room for light. They caught her in place, sharp and unblinking, and she wanted to scream but couldn’t.

 

 

 

 

Because the girl was trembling. Not with rage. Not with strength. With fear. Like she was more scared of Jihyo than the fact that she was bleeding from the side of her head.

 

 

 

 

Her one hand clawed into the soil, clutching fistfuls of scorched dirt like she was trying to hold herself in place. The other hand clutched a dark red flower that didn't  look like any flower Jihyo was familiar with. She made a sound, thin and breathless, not in any language Jihyo knew.

 

 

 

 

And Jihyo— eight years old, restless, perhaps a little spoiled, used to filling every second with motion— felt something she didn’t yet have words for. Pity, maybe. Recognition, most definitely. The girl was shaking like the children at ballet class who couldn’t get the steps right. Shaking like Jihyo herself did the first time she’d gone into her father’s lab, overwhelmed by the hum of machines and the smell of chemicals she couldn’t name.

 

 

 

 

 

For a second, Jihyo just stared. She thought about the storybooks her nanny read to her at night, the ones about princesses in towers and maidens trapped in forests. Except this girl wasn’t in a tower, and she wasn’t waiting. She looked like she had fallen straight out of the stars and landed wrong, cracked and trembling on the earth.

 

 

 

 

 

Jihyo’s knees hit the dirt before she realized she’d moved. Instead of running, she crouched down. Her hand reached out, trembling but stubborn, until her fingers brushed against the girl’s.

 

 

 

 

 

The skin was strangely cool at first, then warmed, like holding a stone that had been lying in the shade. The girl startled faintly at the touch, her night-dark eyes locking onto Jihyo’s. For one dizzy heartbeat, Jihyo thought their breathing lined up; her chest rising, the girl’s chest rising, a fragile rhythm they shared.

 

 

 

 

"You’re okay now," she whispered, the way her nanny used to whisper when Jihyo woke from nightmares. "You’re safe."

 

 

 

 

The girl’s trembling slowed, just a fraction. Her lips parted, like she was still figuring out how language worked, though no sound came. And Jihyo— grape-stained, dirt-smeared, eight years old and utterly certain— smiled a little, feeling like she was being helpful, like she had stumbled into the most important thing she would ever do.

 

 

 

 

 

"Jihyo!"

 

 

 

 

 

The shout cracked through the clearing. Her mother came running down the slope, skirts gathered in her fists, face flushed with fear. Behind her, her father was striding fast, phone pressed to his ear, barking clipped words into it.

 

 

 

 

Jihyo jerked her hand back like she’d been caught stealing.

 

 

 

 

Her mother swept her into her arms, clutching her so tight it hurt. "What were you thinking? You don’t run toward explosions!"

 

 

 

 

 

But Jihyo squirmed, pointing down at the girl. "She’s hurt. Mama, she’s hurt really bad. She needs our help!"

 

 

 

 

Her mother’s eyes followed her finger and widened. For a heartbeat, everything stilled. The smoke hissed. The cicadas buzzed. Then her father snapped the phone shut, his face unreadable as he stepped closer.

 

 

 

 

 

"It’s not—" her mom started. "It’s not human."

 

 

 

 

Jihyo bristled at the use of the word it. She was clearly just a girl. Who couldn't have been much older or younger than Jihyo herself. She would've said something more if it weren’t for how tight her mom held her.

 

 

 

 

"Not entirely," her dad agreed, crouching beside the girl. He didn’t look afraid. He looked fascinated. "But alive."

 

 

 

 

 

The girl’s strange eyes flicked to him, then to Jihyo again, as though anchoring herself in the only familiar face here. She made another sound— hoarse, broken. She blinked a few times, and then, miraculously her eyes changed. Some of the black of her eyes fell away, giving way for the normal white in people's eyes. Her eyes looked normal now, but still dark, still scared. 

 

 

 

 

 

Jihyo wriggled free of her mother’s grip and ran back down the slope before anyone could stop her. She planted herself between her father’s outstretched hand and the girl, arms spread wide using her own body as a shield. 

 

 

 

 

 

"Don’t scare her!" she said fiercely, though her voice shook.

 

 

 

 

Her parents exchanged a look, a whole conversation in a second— fear, calculation, curiosity. Then her dad sighed, lowering his hand.

 

 

 

 

 

"We’ll take her to the house," he said. "Before anyone else arrives. I'll handle the pod."

 

 

 

 

 

Her mom hesitated, but nodded. "Only until we know more."

 

 

 

 

 

But Jihyo didn’t hear the caution in their tone. She only saw the girl curl closer to her, smoke curling in the air around her, and knew one thing for certain: Whoever she was, whatever sky she had fallen from— she was Jihyo’s now.

 

 

 

 

 

 

Was eight too young to dedicate yourself to a cause? Perhaps. But Jihyo had always been wired differently. Marching to the beat her own drum as she figured out life on her own terms. Except now she had someone trailing behind her. Someone she was responsible for in a way she had to quickly get accustomed to.

 

 

 

 

They continued like that for years, Jihyo bouldering forward, and Mina at the back holding her hand. Jihyo used to think it was enough just to hold her through the idiosyncratic nature of human existence. Their parents' affections grew for Mina quickly — how could it not? She was much more well-mannered and agreeable in ways that Jihyo could never be— but the bond the two of them shared was different. 

 

 

 

 

 

That was childhood, the simple comfort of an arm wrapped tight, a hand against trembling skin. But adolescence had sharper edges.

 

 

 

 

 

Mina grew into her difference. Not just taller or stronger, but stranger. Bruises that healed too quickly. Fevers that burned hotter than any thermometer could measure. Bloodwork that made her father frown and quietly shred the results.

 

 

 

 

 

And each time, when her parents called in specialists from JYP or whispered about clinical trials, Mina would shut down. Fold in on herself the way she had in the vineyard. Doctors frightened her. Data frightened her. Being seen as something to be studied frightened her.

 

 

 

 

Except with Jihyo.

 

 

 

 

With Jihyo, she would uncoil. Show the burns from heat vision overuse, the rashes from flight recoil, the fractures from a misuse of her superstrength hidden under long sleeves. Whisper what hurt and when. She’d never let anyone else close, but Jihyo? Jihyo was safe.

 

 

 

 

 

This closeness had always stumped their parents. Her mom lectured on the dangers of codependency; her dad speculated on alien imprinting, like newborn wildlife seeking a caretaker. Jihyo didn’t think it could really be explained. It was simply… them.

 

 

 

 

 

They were sixteen when Mina, almost offhandedly, gave Jihyo a name for what they were.

 

 

 

 

"Säbāgždā "  she said one evening, cheeks a little pink as her brows furrowed in thought.

 

 

 

 

Jihyo mouthed the syllables clumsily. "I’m not even gonna attempt that. What is it supposed to mean?"

 

 

 

 

 

"Safe haven," Mina said after a beat. She tilted her head, dark hair sliding over her shoulder. "At least, that’s the closest translation. The Elders used to tell us about it— a place or person that can recognize us on a genomic level, where we can rest without fear. They said every pod was programmed to find the nearest collection of safe havens. But… no one really believed it. Just a story."

 

 

 

 

Jihyo blinked.The words hit her chest like a stone dropped into water, sinking fast.  "So… you’re saying I’m your safe haven?"

 

 

 

 

 

Mina scratched the back of her neck awkwardly. "I’m not saying anything. That’s just the story I know."

 

 

 

 

 

"You're alluding to it, though."

 

 

 

 

 

"Whatever, " Mina grumbled, cheeks aflame as she looked away. "Don't let it get to your head. Its just a theory that doesn't make sense."

 

 

 

 

 

 

But it did. And Jihyo wouldn't laugh it off. She couldn’t. The word burrowed deep, stubborn as a seed, rooting into every memory she had of them: the vineyard, the trembling hand in the dirt, the nights she’d held Mina through nightmares of a plabet she could no longer remember and fevers no medicine could touch. Safe haven. Of course. 

 

 

 

 

 

That’s what that day had been. That was why she hadn’t run, why she couldn’t imagine ever running. She turned the word over in her mind, testing it the way she used to test the sharpness of piano keys or the weight of a soccer ball. It felt right. Heavy. Irrevocable.

 

 

 

 

 

The realization came slow, then all at once: it wasn’t enough to just be her sister. Mina needed someone who could both hold her and heal her. Someone who could bridge human science and alien difference without fear, without agenda. And Jihyo decided she would be that someone.

 

 

 

 

 

It wasn’t about safety anymore. It wasn’t about just bouldering through life figuring things out without actual direction or focus. It was about promise. The kind she made silently, the night she crouched in the vineyard with ash under her nails, pressing her hand against Mina’s trembling one.

 

 

 

 

If Mina was going to trust only one person with her body, her pain, her secrets— then Jihyo would build her whole life around being worthy of that trust.

 

 

 

 

That was the moment she stopped being just restless. She found her direction. 

 

 

 

 

 

And for years they had managed just fine on their own. Just the two of them dealing with life on their own. Catching each other when they fell. Pulling each other when the other other fell back. Yelling at each other when they did something stupid. They had developed a routine. One Jihyo never thought would change. 

 

 

 

 

Until it did.

 

 

 

 

Until life got a little weird with the arrival of Mina's new secondary puberty which ushered in some unwelcome guests unwittingly. Guests Jihyo unfortunately feared would not leave any time soon.

 

 

 

 

Jihyo wasn't one to let things go. She didn’t let them fester and grow either, but she didn’t let them diminish in impact either. She just let the truth sit in her mind, untouched, until provided with information that'd either worsen her emotions on the thing, or lessen their value. Perhaps she was stubborn. Perhaps she had genius foresight. Either way, it was her rule.

 

 

 

 

 

It was why she felt one step away from bursting a blood vessel when Mina just casually befriended one of her captors and not so casually fell in a weird type of 'friends with weird tension' with the other captor. Did the fact that they quite literally took her hostage mean nothing?  That they drained her power? Stripped her of her suit? Chained her?

 

 

 

 

 

Jihyo didn’t care for their bullshit reasonings. Didn't care if they had done it with good intentions. She didn’t care for whatever asinine excuse Mina attempted to make for them— it was kidnapping. Jihyo felt like she were going insane since she seemed to be the only one stuck on that part. 

 

 

 

 

 

Even Jeongyeon— though, she rarely if ever disagreed with Mina so she wasn't exactly impartial on the matter— seemed weirdly understanding, like those women did anything worthy of forgiveness. Like kidnapping could ever be redeemed. So.... they apologized? And that was it? God. She loved her sister with all her heart, but Jihyo swore she was too soft-hearted sometimes. It made her want to scream. 

 

 

 

 

 

Worst of all, Jihyo felt something festering in her chest. Nudging ever so slightly pass her ribcage, forcing her to take note of it. Something she felt stirring for months since Mina started... changing. She was still Mina, of course, but indistinguishable. Like her spot at Jihyo’s side was getting less and less definitive. Less fixed like it had been for years. Jihyo didn’t know how to explain it, all she knew was that she hated it. Not Mina, never her,  just this feeling. A feeling she couldn't name or rid herself of. 

 

 

 

 

 

Perhaps it was just a culmination of everything that had happened over the last few weeks weighing down on her. The wedding preparation stress plus attempting to figure out how to help Mina in anyway she could. But something about that didn't fit. Didn't settle. The truth felt deeper. Something perhaps she weren’t ready to acknowledge yet.

 

 

 

 

So she focused on the things she understood first: the absurdity of Mina's new choice in companions. 

 

 

 

 

"You're overthinking it, babe."

 

 

 

 

Jihyo glared down at the carpet of her bedroom floor as she shook out her wet hair with a towel. "No, I'm not. You all are just underthinking it. I won't let you guys make me think I'm being unreasonable on this."

 

 

 

 

 

Jeongyeon just hummed, moving somewhere behind Jihyo on the bed, getting comfy after her shower. She had just returned from her filming for the cooking show, so she was understandably less energetic and Jihyo should've probably just dropped the conversation all together and cuddle up to her soon-to-be wife... but she couldn't. Not when something pressing was on her mind. Not after she had just seen her sister all but sign her heart over to someone who had done nothing to show that she earned it. 

 

 

 

 

 

That was what struck her most: Mina could open her heart, and virtually her soul, to this woman by showing her the most sacred place on Earth. Her last piece of home. To someone who willingly left her. Someone who was supposed to protect. Someone who was supposed to love her but was too much of a coward to.

 

 

 

 

Jihyo didn’t get it. And she wasn't even going to pretend to. 

 

 

 

 

 

As was custom over the last few discussions since Mina announced she befriended the brute of the two captors, she and Jeongyeon fell into the same debate. It usually more or less ended unresolved with Jihyo begrudgingly backing off for the time being. But this time was different. Because she could actually see how screwed Mina was this time.

 

 

 

 

 

This wasn’t just low stakes friendship. This meant something deeper to Mina. Taking that woman to the greenhouse would be her worse mistake and Jihyo hated that there was nothing she could do to intervene. It felt like watching a car crash in ultra slow-mo.

 

 

 

 

"Remind me again which one you're talking about now?" Jeongyeon mumbled, clearly halfway settled towards sleep. "Momo or Sana?"

 

 

 

 

 

 

Jihyo scoffed. She didn’t want to use either of their names. They shouldn't have been allowed a spot in her life. "Sana." 

 

 

 

 

"Oh, right, yeah. The crush?"

 

 

 

 

 

"I don't think it can be called just a crush anymore, Jeong." Jihyo frowned down at her hands. She was clenching her towel. She took a few calming breaths and let it go. "She took her to the greenhouse."

 

 

 

 

 

There was a brief pause. Then Jeongyeon sighed. "Well... damn. She's screwed."

 

 

 

 

 

"She is." Jihyo huffed. "And I’m the only one that seems to care apparently!"

 

 

 

 

"Now you're just being dramatic."

 

 

 

 

"Perhaps. But I can't just... let this happen. What—"

 

 

 

 

"Jihyo," Jeongyeon shifted again, cutting her off and Jihyo winced a little. She sounded serious now. "You're going to have to ease up on the reigns here, sweetheart. Mina's an adult, I know you care, but she's going to do her own thing regardless of your opinion on either of these women."

 

 

 

 

 

"And if they hurt her?" Jihyo snapped,  throwing her hands up in frustration. "They have already,  how do I know they won't do it again? Especially now with actual emotional stakes involved. How do I know she'll be okay?"

 

 

 

 

 

Jeongyeon moved next to Jihyo now, resting her head against her shoulder. The scent of her strawberry shampoo got Jihyo’s tight shoulders to loosen slightly.  "You don't. You're just going to have to trust that Mina would be able to handle it and ask for help if she needs."

 

 

 

 

"God... I hate it when you make vaguely sense."

 

 

 

 

 

 

Jeongyeon snorted, nuzzling deeper into Jihyo’s neck. "It's the truth you don't want to acknowledge."

 

 

 

 

 

Jihyo scowled. Jeongyeon was right. She didn’t want to acknowledge this truth because it involved a logic she couldn’t accept. Leave Mina to deal with potential fallout and only reach out when she asks? Jihyo hated that logic. She believed prevention was better than cure. Mina had always been loyal, even to those who hadn’t earned it, and now she had to reconcile that reality.

 

 

 

 

She didn’t say anything more, just allowed Jeongyeon to reach for one of her hands and clasp it tight, grounding Jihyo with touch alone. It helped, mostly. She still felt unsettled, still didn’t trust either of those women. But she couldn’t refute Jeongyeon’s point. Mina was an adult, if not a little naive. Jihyo wouldn’t force her to do anything but god, she hated all of this.

 

 

 

 

 

After a while, Jeongyeon broke the contemplative silence between them with a thoughtful hum. "There's something else, isn't there?"

 

 

 

 

"Maybe."

 

 

 

 

 

"The hell you mean maybe?"

 

 

 

 

 

Jihyo sighed, frustrated with herself. Frustrated with everything really. Maybe the universe and whatever deities resided there too. "Spitball a few ideas on what I might be feeling about this so I can decide which one fits."

 

 

 

 

"Angry at them for the 'napping?"

 

 

 

 

"Yes, but that's subdued. Not this snagging on my chest."

 

 

 

 

"Jealous?"

 

 

 

 

"What the fuck do I have to be jealous over?"

 

 

 

 

Jeongyeon paused for a long moment, thinking. Then finally: "Scared of losing her?"

 

 

 

 

That… got Jihyo to freeze. The word sat heavy in her chest, dragging old memories with it. Her throat seemed to close up, the way it had all those years ago when she first thought Mina might've been dead in the vineyard. 

 

 

 

 

If there was one thing Jihyo hated, it was emotional dishonesty. Even in herself. She dissected every feeling she experienced without excuse or dismissal. She didn’t feel them the same way as others, but she could always detect their presence. Especially the ones that made her chest feel as though it were closing in.

 

 

 

 

 

Jihyo blinked as the truth settled: Mina wasn’t eight years old anymore, trembling in the vineyard dirt. She was grown, capable, fully able to make her own choices. But the fear that had lodged itself in Jihyo’s chest back then— the terror of seeing her broken— had never left. It was the same fear choking her now.

 

 

 

 

"Yeah." She said without fight, leaning back into Jeongyeon's warmth. "Guess I am scared. Things are changing. She's... changing."

 

 

 

 

Over the months, Jihyo noticed subtle shifts in Mina— quiet pauses before speaking, a lingering gaze out the window, hands fidgeting with small things she once ignored. Each glance felt like a thread pulling away from the steady line she had always followed. The comfortable thread of normalcy they had woven felt as though it were coming apart.
 

 

 

 

 

Her concern reached a breaking point when Jihyo was called into JYP, where she found Mina in a state she had never seen before: raw, unmade, fractured in a way that went beyond bruises or blood. Mina was unraveling internally, becoming something Jihyo felt excluded from. 

 

 

 

 

So she had to assert herself, make herself the one Mina could rely on during this transition. For the first time in years, Jihyo felt the need to stake her claim on her position in Mina’s life, to protect her from slipping away— not from danger, but from detachment. From the otherness of her life before Earth.

 

 

 

 

 

Yet with the arrival of these other women, something unpleasant stirred low in her belly. 

 

 

 

 

 

Mina hadn’t pulled away; she was still clingy. But a shift existed, subtle and unnameable, that hinted at other hearts sharing a space Jihyo had long believed was solely hers. Soon the sharp unbearable thought that Mina didn’t need her shield anymore settled. That maybe Mina had already chosen someone else to let close.

 

 

 

 

And Jihyo didn’t know how to function without her spot being definitive. So she just spiraled like this in secret. 

 

 

 

 

"Just because she's making room for more people doesn't mean she's booting you out, you know." Jeongyeon said softly, freehand coming down to give Jihyo’s knee a reassuring squeeze. "Your spot isn't really one that can be filled. But I think there's certain things you won't get that they might."

 

 

 

 

"What could they possibly get that I don't?"

 

 

 

 

"Well, for one, they're all refugee aliens who lost their family. Don't think that's something you can understand even with all the empathy in the world."

 

 

 

 

 

Jihyo huffed. "Why can't you be on my side for once?"

 

 

 

 

Jeongyeon gave a tired chuckle, leaning most of weight on Jihyo now. "You don't want yes-men. You want logic."

 

 

 

 

Jihyo grumbled. She couldn't argue with that but she still thought this all was bullshit. She let it go for now though,  pulling the now half-sleep Jeongyeon in her arms and under the blankets. She let the conversation fade, though the knot in her chest remained, nudging persistently. 

 

 

 

 

 

She knew she was being a little unreasonable with that part of her emotions. It wasn’t as though she wanted to ostracize Mina from finding community somewhere. But losing her definitive place, her steady anchor, made Jihyo restless.

 

 

 

 

It wasn’t jealousy, not really. But it was fear. However irrational. 

 

 

 

 

Fear that maybe she wasn’t as necessary as she had always believed. Fear that someone else might step into a space she had spent decades claiming without even realizing it. Fear that, for the first time in her life, Mina might drift just enough for her grip to falter. That Mina would stop reaching out entirely one day.

 

 

 

 

 

And then the week leading into her wedding came, carrying with it a reminder that her position in Mina’s life— though complicated, shifting, and shared— was one that no one could truly replace. It was mundane,  really, but it stuck and was what she needed.

 

 

 

 

They were having dinner at their apartment when Mina stormed in, eyes wild and glassy. Jihyo recognized the look instantly, apron half-untied before she could even sigh.

 

 

 

 

"I swear, if you’re about to—"

 

 

 

 

The rest of her sentence was cut off when Mina crashed into her, squeezing the air from her lungs. Her feet left the floor, Mina’s forehead pressed against her shoulder, and all at once Jihyo knew: she was in the middle of a Mina spiral and was now a human teddy bear. Or stress ball 

 

 

 

 

And strangely enough… it comforted her, this familiar weight of being needed, of being chosen.

 

 

 

 

It had been years since Mina hugged her like this — unrestrained, alien strength and all, clinging like a child afraid of drifting away. Jihyo’s ribs protested, her arms were digging into her sides, spots dotted her vision, but for the first time in weeks her chest felt lighter. This, at least, was familiar.

 

 

 

 

 

"I’m freaking out a little," Mina mumbled.

 

 

 

 

Jihyo snorted. "A little?"

 

 

 

 

"Okay, a lot. About my bridesmaid speech. Everything I write feels dumb and I— wait, no, shit, I can’t show you, that defeats the whole purpose—"

 

 

 

 

Mina kept babbling, voice tripping over itself, and Jihyo just listened. Just listened and breathed, the knot in her chest loosening thread by thread. After Mina exhausted herself with her panic, Jihyo provided suitable words of soothing until Mina eventually put her back on the floor. Her hand still clasped Jihyo's, eyes wide and attentive like she were hanging off of Jihyo’s every affirmation to make her feel better.

 

 

 

 

It hit her then, truly. Just how many times they've been in this position before. Just how familiar it was to hold Mina's hand while she panicked herself nearly to tears. She let herself acknowledge the normalcy of it all for the first time in weeks. And something loosened in Jihyo’s chest. A tight thread she had noticed tightening over the last few weeks without her approval. 

 

 

 

 

Across the room, Jeongyeon hid a smile behind her mug. Jihyo scowled at her, knowing she’d never hear the end of it later.

 

 

 

 

But she sighed, heart softening anyway. For the first time in weeks, Jihyo allowed herself to breathe, recognizing that Mina’s trust in her had not wavered, no matter how many others she might now let close. It was then that Jihyo made a decision.

 

 

 

 

"Minari?" she said. She knew what she had to do.

 

 

 

 

Mina’s hand immediately tightened around hers, eyes still wide and bright. "Hmm?"

 

 

 

 

Jihyo hesitated. The words caught on her tongue, heavy and tender, but when she looked down at their clasped hands she let them go.

 

 

 

 

"You can bring... Sana as your plus one. She’s your girlfriend, after all."

 

 

 

 

Mina blinked. "Really? But it’s your special day, I don’t want to overwhelm you—"

 

 

 

 

 

"Bring her," Jihyo cut in, rolling her eyes to hammer down her point. "God, I swear you're so dramatic sometimes."

 

 

 

 

Mina’s face broke into a beam so radiant
made Jihyo’s chest ache. Another bear hug followed, crushing what little air she had left, but this time she sank into it, letting Mina’s warmth fold around her like it always had.

 

 

 

 

 

And just for a second, with Mina clinging to her as if the world might fall apart without her, Jihyo remembered her decision again. The vineyard, that wreck, the trembling little girl who had once looked to her for safety. Years later, nothing had really changed. Mina still chose her when she was most vulnerable and Jihyo would always be here.

 

 

 

 

Jihyo doubted she'd ever like Sana or Momo. But watching Mina glow like this, Jihyo could finally admit what Jeongyeon had been telling her all along: she wasn’t being replaced. A few other positions were just being assigned as well. She had been, and always would be, Mina’s home. Her safe haven.

 

 

 

 

 

She just had to share the position with a few others now. And she was okay with that.

 

 

 

 

Chapter 9: The Price of Pride (ii)

Summary:

In which Nayeon doesn't know how to talk without venom and Jihyo has had enough of it.

 

Or,

 

final part of nahyo's attempts at understanding each other. and failing at it.

Notes:

Late Bloomer funfact #9: when 'Hi Hello' came out, I was really addicted to the song. Then while I was proofreading through the chapters of Late Bloomer, I noticed that whenever my fic mina would greet anyone in the story she'd either say "Hi" or "Hello". Which I thought was so funny because I loved her parts in the song. So I just continued doing that instead of making her say 'Hey' or some other greeting lol. It really wasn't intentional at first, just a funny coincidence I continued. Doubted anyone noticed or found it as amusing as me tho :(

 

Enjoy!!!

 

Weekly Cumulative Assessment Ten Ranking:

Im. Nayeon: 99%
Park. Jihyo:  98.5 %

 

 

 

 

That Monday, Nayeon waited. Every squeak of the lecture hall door made her glance up, ready with her smirk and some sharp comment about decimal points. But the seat at the front stayed empty. And without Jihyo there, her victory tasted oddly flat, like a joke with no audience.

 

 

 

 

Jihyo didn’t come in at all. So Nayeon didn't get the opportunity to gloat and press the little nerd on what happened to her little ninety-nine point five percent she had guarded for weeks. Nayeon maintained the smile though, cheeky and satisfied as she planned out how she'd prod the other woman when she saw her again. When she saw Jihyo again, she promised herself, she’d make sure that decimal point was the first thing she brought up.

 

 

 

 

Because that was the thing about Jihyo: she never just ignored her. Every jab, every smirk, got a reaction. It was intoxicating in a way Nayeon didn’t care to name— like proof that she mattered enough to rile Jihyo past her perfect composure. Without that back-and-forth, the classroom felt quieter, duller, like someone had dimmed the lights.

 

 

 

 

 

Ever since their presentation— for which they got the highest mark— Jihyo had made her annoyance with Nayeon all the more obvious. Nayeon had learned that the nonchalance Jihyo had displayed the first time was a front. She was rather easy to piss off. And Nayeon discovered she rather enjoyed egging the woman on. 

 

 

 

 

 

Pissing her off until that lovely little vein showed itself in her temple and Jihyo looked about two seconds away from reaching over and choking Nayeon out. She had no clue why she liked it as much as she did. But it felt better than the judgmental looks she'd just get from her business faculty whenever she tried talking to anyone. It felt like they had their own little thing going. 

 

 

 

 

 

They’d fallen into a strange rhythm lately. Jihyo would sigh and glare when Nayeon poked at her, Nayeon would grin wider, and eventually something in Jihyo’s composure would snap just enough to make the whole thing fun. One afternoon just last week, as they packed up after lecture, Nayeon leaned back in her chair, watching Jihyo neatly stack her notes.

 

 

 

"You know," Nayeon drawled, "if you keep highlighting every other line, the professor’s going to think you’re in love with him."

 

 

 

 

Jihyo froze mid-motion, eyes flicking up with that sharp, incredulous glare Nayeon loved. "Excuse me?"

 

 

 

 

Nayeon smirked, riding the thrill of getting under her skin. "I mean, who else writes love letters in neon yellow?"

 

 

 

 

The vein in Jihyo’s temple twitched. "You’re insufferable."

 

 

 

And that should have been enough. But the gleam in Jihyo’s eyes— that mix of irritation and fire— made Nayeon’s pulse trip. Recklessness bubbled up, and before she could stop herself, she added: "Relax. I’m just saying, if you’re this desperate for approval, I can give you some."

 

 

 

 

The words landed sharper than she meant. Jihyo’s face shuttered, the playfulness gone. She shoved her notebook into her bag with clipped movements. Usually she would've fired back with a 'You wish' or something. But Jihyo seemed more than pissed off. 

 

 

 

 

Nayeon’s grin faltered. "Hey, I’m kidding," she said quickly, voice lighter, almost nervous. "Don’t be so sensitive."

 

 

 

 

Jihyo gave her a look— tired, unimpressed— and walked out.

 

 

 

 

Left alone, Nayeon sank back in her chair, heat crawling her neck. She’d pushed too far. Again. Her friends in Busan had once said it was her worst trait. She'd push too fast, too early. But if the person is able to take it, then she knew they were worth it. And so far— Jihyo, the little firecracker that she was, seemed to be able to take it for the most part. 

 

 

 

 

She had just been a little sensitive as of late ever since Professor Park called her in for something. It admittedly made Nayeon feel a little bad when she noticed her barbs didn't land well. And yet, beneath the guilt, there was that same pull, the same inexplicable thrill of drawing a reaction out of Jihyo at all.

 

 

 

 

Nayeon would grin the whole time, riding the edge of Jihyo’s temper, savoring the sharpness in her voice like it was meant only for her. And maybe it was. Maybe that was what kept Nayeon coming back for more— the thrill of being the exception Jihyo couldn’t stay indifferent to. Maybe this was just their thing. And as the sixteen week program moved to an end Nayeon found herself a little discouraged at the possibility of losing whatever it was they had cultivated. 

 

 

 

 

She was still thinking about her victory the next morning when she noticed the empty seat out front again. She brushed it off, thinking that she'd see the woman the Wednesday. Maybe she had a cold or something. But no, Jihyo wasn't there either.

 

 

 

 

It shouldn’t have mattered. But her eyes kept sliding to that front seat anyway, catching on the vacant space like a snag in fabric. The comebacks she’d rehearsed on the walk over went unused, sitting bitter on her tongue. Without Jihyo there to spar with, the victory she’d been savoring felt strangely incomplete.

 

 

 

 

By Thursday, irritation had replaced amusement. How dare Jihyo vanish right when Nayeon was supposed to enjoy the win? Even test day came and went without her. And then, when the next week’s rankings were posted:

 

 

 

Weekly Cumulative Assessment Eleven Ranking:

Im. Nayeon: 99%
Kim. Namjoon:  92%

____

Park. Jihyo: N/A

 

 

 

 

 

Nayeon stared at the N/A unblinking for a solid few minutes that Monday morning. Of course she knew Jihyo hadn't written, she wasn't in class the entire week, but seeing the missing score... felt weird. Oddly hollow. 

 

 

 

 

It wasn’t like she cared. She told herself that again and again as her gaze stayed glued to that blank space where a number should’ve been. But the hollow ache in her chest said otherwise. It wasn’t just the competition she missed— it was the look Jihyo gave her when she won, the muttered retorts, the way her own victories felt sharper, brighter, when they were victories over Jihyo. Without her, ninety-nine percent meant nothing.

 

 

 

 

 

Her eyes flicked toward the empty front-row seat again. It was stupid. Irritating. She was supposed to be reveling in her two week streak, not… not distracted by someone else’s absence.

 

 

 

 

Had... she dropped out? After the big fuss she made about how this alien bullshit mattered to her or whatever the fuck? 

 

 

 

 

After staring at the empty spot pissed her off a little too much, Nayeon decided to ask one of Jihyo’s other nerd friends about her whereabouts.

 

 

 

 

Her friend, Sejeong, was nice enough to say that Jihyo wasn't in her other classes either. But she wasn’t nice enough to give Nayeon the reason why. Instead, Sejeong tilted her head, almost suspicious.

 

 

 

 

"Why do you care? You two don’t even get along." She asked, eyes scanning over Nayeon’s face.

 

 

 

 

The question landed heavier than it should have. Nayeon scoffed, forcing a laugh like it was ridiculous.

 

 

 

 

"I don’t care. It’s just—" she waved her hand vaguely, searching for the right insult, "—hypocritical, you know? To blow a gasket about how important this course is, then vanish the second it gets tough."

 

 

 

 

 

Sejeong blinked at her, unconvinced. Nayeon shrugged harder, as if sheer indifference could erase the twist in her gut. She told herself it was about principle, about winning fair and square. But even as she walked away, she caught herself glancing at the front row again, half-expecting Jihyo to be there after all.

 

 

 

 

Nayeon was still stewing when Professor Park called her to stay behind after class.

 

 

 

 

"Miss Im, how familiar are you with JYP?" he launched immediately, cutting through her thoughts.

 

 

 

Nayeon raised a brow. "Not very. But I know of them. My father had business with their Busan sect at some point."

 

 

 

 

Professor Park nodded, like he expected that. "And you’re aware that I am in affiliation with them?"

 

 

 

 

"Yes."

 

 

 

 

"And you remember I mentioned how these Cumulative tests would build toward something?"

 

 

 

 

Nayeon’s brows furrowed. "Yes…?"

 

"Well, you and Miss Park have been among the top for the last few weeks. Some of the most exemplar students I—"

 

 

 

 

 

"Where are you going with this?" she cut him off, sensing a potential ramble she wasn’t in the mood for.

 

 

 

 

 

Her eyes narrowed. She didn’t like tiptoeing around things. If Professor Park was just wasting her time, she’d rather be drafting her business class PowerPoint. But part of her— the part she refused to name— couldn’t help wondering: had Jihyo been here too? Did she get this offer before her? Was that why she’d been gone?

 

 

 

 

 

He sighed. "I was asked to scout out promising recruits I believe—"

 

 

 

 

"Not interested." Nayeon shut that down immediately.

 

 

 

Professor Park tilted his head, confused. "You’re… not?"

 

 

 

 

"Listen, I know what they do and how they move. And personally, I don’t see myself dedicating my life to a cause I have no reason to care about." She adjusted her messenger bag. "I’m not risking my life for any type of organization."

 

 

 

 

"They aren’t just offering field agent positions. They are looking to utilize Seoul’s best minds to work in the scientific—"

 

 

 

 

 

"I’m going to stop you right there." She held up a hand, annoyance creeping in. "Still not interested. I’m not even a science major."

 

 

 

 

 

Professor Park’s brows furrowed. "You’re not? Then what are you enrolled in this course for?"

 

 

 

 

 

"To challenge myself, and because it was exclusive," she shrugged. But even as she said it, a pang hit her— imagining Jihyo accepting the offer, stepping into a world Nayeon had refused to touch. It shouldn’t matter. It wasn’t her opportunity. But somehow, it burned. "Are we done?"

 

 

 

 

"Miss Im, I implore you to reconsider. This is an amazing opportunity—"

 

 

 

 

"Are we done, Professor?" she snapped, patience worn thin.

 

 

 

 

He gave her an incredulous look, but Nayeon didn’t care. What would JYP realistically offer her? Money? Glory? She already had enough. And yet, part of her— the part she refused to name— wondered if Jihyo had already been offered it. And maybe that explained her absence. Maybe Jihyo had made a choice without a word.

 

 

 

 

 

And that thought… stung.

 

 

 

 

Nevertheless, it wasn’t her problem. She didn’t care.

 

 

 

 

She shoved the conversation from her mind as soon as she left his office. If JYP was dumb enough to waste time chasing nerds, that was their problem. She had her own grades to maintain, her own battles to pick. Which was why, the following week, she was caught completely off guard when Park decided to make her the example.

 

 

 

 

 

It happened on the Thursday, during a lecture lull when Professor Park was half-ranting about the department’s 'selective' course enrollment. Jihyo had finally returned to class, looking relatively normal. With the exception of a bruise on the corner of her jaw that Nayeon definitely didn't care about. All she cared about was the impeding gloat she'd do after class. Nayeon had zoned about half of what the professor had said, too focused on what she'd tell Jihyo. 

 

 

 

 

Then Professor Park decided to let his misgivings be known.

 

 

 

 

"Half of you begged your way in here," he sneered, with a vehemence that seemed unnecessary, pacing the front of the room. "Some got in on merit, some on recommendation. And some…" his eyes cut deliberately toward the back row where Nayeon sat, "were… persuaded."

 

 

 

 

 

Nayeon froze, broken out of her daze momentarily once she noticed all the attention on her. She had always known he was a bit of an asshole, however, she had never imagined he'd be so blatant about it. Was he really that butthurt over her rejection that he had to go on a tangent about something unrelated to class? Regardless, she wouldn't let it get to her. 

 

 

 

 

 

The class rippled with murmurs. Heads turned. Nayeon felt the heat creep up her neck but forced a lazy smile, flipping her pen between her fingers like she couldn’t care less. Because she shouldn’t. It didn’t matter how she got into this, all that mattered was that she did and she was brilliant. 

 

 

 

 

The whispers followed her out of the lecture hall, pricking at her skin like static. She told herself she didn’t care. But when Jihyo was suddenly there, blocking her path in the corridor, all that forced nonchalance cracked.

 

 

 

 

 

When the lecture ended, Jihyo cornered her in the corridor. No crowd, no audience — just Jihyo’s eyes, sharp and unrelenting.

 

 

 

 

"Hey," She greeted which really should've been the first red flag. Jihyo never greeted her. "Can we talk?"

 

 

 

 

For some reason, Nayeon’s heart dropped at that. "Oh please. When have you ever wanted to talk to me?"

 

 

 

 

 

Jihyo briskly ignored Nayeon’s attempted jab. "Is it true? What Professor Park said?"

 

 

 

 

Despite it being a question, there was no accusation in her voice— only flat certainty. Nayeon shifted on her feet. It felt like a trap, but she couldn’t see the snare yet. So she did what she always did: feigned nonchalance.

 

 

 

 

She rolled her eyes. “What, that my dad made a call? Please. It’s not like I’m failing. I’m holding my own."

 

 

 

"That isn't an answer."

 

 

 

"You know it's true. I basically told you as much."

 

 

 

Jihyo didn't say anything more, eyes searching Nayeon’s face as though she were seeing her for the first time. And she didn't like that one bit. It made her feel exposed. Too much so. It looked like Jihyo was saying something without speaking.  Like she knew something Nayeon didn't. 

 

 

 

 

 

“What?” Nayeon asked gripping her bag. 

 

 

 

 

Jihyo cocked her head to the side. She was so pensive, it was starting to make Nayeon nervous. A quiet non-angry Jihyo was as rare as a shooting star. "And you're really not interested in Science?"

 

 

 

 

"Nope."

 

 

 

 

"Bullshit."

 

 

 

Nayeon scrunched her face up in confusion. "I— huh?"

 

 

 

 

"I find it hard to believe that you have no interest whatsover, given that you went through the extra effort to make sure you're in the program." Jihyo said a matter-of-a-factly.

 

 

 

 

And that gave Nayeon pause, because, well she had a point but Nayeon wasn't going to acknowledge that. So she had a passing interest in alien biology and systems? Not deep interest, not enough to care yet. She just liked figuring things out.

 

 

 

 

 

"Okay, and?" Nayeon huffed, hand tightening around her bag's strap. "What’s your point? You here to scold me taking advantage when this position could've gone to someone else who actually cares or something?"

 

 

 

 

"No," Jihyo said still sounding oddly calm, almost gentle  Maybe even a little sympathetic. And Nayeon didn't like that. Not one bit. "While I still don't think its fair that you just got to saunter in here because you could, I don't think its fair you were persecuted in front of the class like that either."

 

 

 

 

 

Nayeon scowled. "I don’t want your pity."

 

 

 

 

"I'm not pitying you." Jihyo pursed her lips, eyes soft in a way Nayeon hadn’t yet had directed towards her. It made her stomach flip. "And I think you'd be wasting your potential if you didn't at least try looking into something in this field. You're brilliant and you should use it. Don't get me wrong, you can still do your business thing, but... I think it's something worth looking into."

 

 

 

 

 

Nayeon should have shut up. Should have just accepted the compliment left it. But Jihyo’s lack of usual irritation... made something reckless rise in her chest. Something that made her feel like she were naked under a microscope. It made her skin itch. This was not their thing.

 

 

 

 

 

They didn't talk to each other normally. Didn't have a conversation without it ending in a barb or screaming match. She felt ill equipped for this version of Jihyo. It felt like she were trying to understand her and Nayeon hated it. She didn't need to be understood. 

 

 

 

 

So she needed to course correct. Fix this. Remind Jihyo of what they were. Not whatever this was. 

 

 

 

 

"So you think what I'm currently studying doesn't matter?" she said, sharper than she meant.

 

 

 

 

 

Jihyo startled. "That’s not what I mean. I—"

 

 

 

 

 

"Save it," Nayeon snapped, her voice climbing. "Not everyone can afford to spend their lives chasing some big noble passion project. Some of us are just being realistic."

 

 

 

 

 

For a long moment, Jihyo only stared at her. Her face shuttered, sympathy that had been wrought in her face creasing out so fast it was as though it was never there in the first place. Suddenly everything felt like it stood still; Nayeon could feel her heart pounding in her chest and hear her pulse drumming in her ears but she couldn't stop. She didn’t know how.

 

 

 

 

The silence pressed heavy, heavier than any of their usual bickering. Then Jihyo’s voice broke it, quiet enough to make Nayeon flinch.

 

 

 

 

 

"You think that’s what this is for me? A... passion project?" Something in her eyes was raw now, stripped of the usual composure. Like Nayeon touched on something particularly sensitive. 

 

 

 

 

But Nayeon didn’t back down. "Is it not that way for all you nerds?"

 

 

 

 

 

Jihyo's eyes glistened. And momentarily Nayeon froze, but then Jihyo blinked away the wetness,  her eyes hardening. It all happened so quick she worried she imagined it.

 

 

 

 

 

"I’m here because someone I love needs me to be. Because our medtech system fails too many. Because I promised myself I’d use my brain to help people who need it most. And you—"  her voice cracked, then hardened again, "you stand there acting like this is just some elective you can coast through for bragging rights when you could be using it. When you could help people you care about."

 

 

 

 

 

Nayeon’s throat went dry. She hadn’t expected… that. She hadn’t expected the weight behind Jihyo’s precision, the real story beneath the decimal points. For a second, her practiced smile slipped. She could have said something then, anything, an apology, a backtrack, even silence.

 

 

 

 

But panic clawed up faster. Panic and pride. She grabbed the sharpest thing she could find and threw it between them like a shield.

 

 

 

 

 

 

"Well," she said lightly, flashing a smile she didn’t feel, "I’m sorry not all of us get a tragic backstory to justify our hobbies. And the only person I care to help is myself."

 

 

 

 

 

The words hung in the air like smoke. It was the same mistake she always made— push until the spark became fire, then pretend she didn’t care when it scorched them both.

 

 

 

 

 

But this time, Jihyo didn’t just glare, or sigh, or shove her notes into her bag. She straightened, spine rigid, eyes colder than Nayeon had ever seen them.

 

 

 

 

"I was thinking that maybe, just maybe, we could come to understand each other so we could at least be civil." Jihyo said, sounding almost disappointed. "But clearly you're not capable of that. Fuck you, Im. Truly." 

 

 

 

 

 

The word weren't shouted. Just… final. Then she turned and walked away, leaving Nayeon rooted in place with the taste of ash on her tongue. As did the gloat she had been prepping for weeks. Her victory over Jihyo suddenly felt even more pointless. For the first time, there was no thrill in the fight. She felt hollow.

 

 

 

 

She told herself it didn’t matter. That she’d shake it off, laugh it away, find some other game to play. But even as she walked off, the hollow feeling clung to her ribs, heavy and inescapable. And some part of her knew: she’d just lost a chance she could never get back.

 

 

 

 

Later that night, against her better judgment, Nayeon wandered into one of the science faculty’s open labs. She told herself it was boredom, or maybe curiosity after all of Jihyo’s self-righteous speeches— definitely not because of what Jihyo had said to her face.

 

 

 

 

 

The lab smelled of metal and ozone, the hum of machines filling the quiet. On one of the benches sat a prototype medtech scanner, half-disassembled. Nayeon picked up the manual beside it, ignoring the sharp glance one of the lab assistants gave her, and skimmed without much purpose— until a line of code on the display caught her eye.

 

 

 

 

 

It was clunky, inefficient, and she could already see how she would restructure it. Her fingers twitched for a keyboard. For the first time in weeks, she felt a spark that wasn’t about winning or one-upping someone else. It was about building. About fixing. About solving something. And it was thrilling. She understood, in a vague, messy way, what Jihyo had meant— what had driven her all along.

 

 

 

 

 

Her mind raced through possibilities, sketching algorithms and small improvements in her head. She felt a curious lightness, a focus she hadn’t experienced in her business classes. For the first time, she realized it wasn’t just the intellectual challenge— it was the idea of making a real difference.

 

 

 

 

 

But the moment died as quickly as it came. The image of Jihyo’s expression when she’d said those last words— flat, final, done— cut through the spark. Nayeon set the manual down and left the lab, telling herself it didn’t matter. It was just vague interest, nothing more.

 

 

 

 

The next morning, the front seat was empty again. 

 

 

 

 

 

Nayeon told herself it didn’t matter. That it didn't matter to her that Jihyo missed another test day. That Jihyo was probably off chasing her noble cause, or whatever excuse made her absence less about Nayeon. That she’d come back eventually  because she always did, because their push and pull was too stubborn to end over one fight.

 

 

 

 

 

But the hollow space at the front row didn’t feel temporary. It felt permanent. Final.
She forced herself to smirk, tapping her pen against her notebook, but it didn’t land. The professor’s voice faded into a dull drone, the numbers on the ranking sheet blurred, and the silence pressed in until she could barely breathe.

 

 

 

 

 

When the final weeks of the semester came to a close, Jihyo returned. She was still meticulous, still nerdy, still quietly brilliant. But she no longer responded to Nayeon’s jabs. She simply stared through them, indifferent. No teasing. No rebuttals. No rivalry. No spark.

 

 

 

 

 

And then came the final week rankings:

 

 

 

 

 

FINAL Weekly Cumulative Assessment Ranking:

Im. Nayeon: 98.75%
Kim Namjoon: 96.25%
Choi. Yujin: 90.5%
Park. Jihyo:  87%

 

 

 

 

 

Professor Park projected the scores on the board and droned his usual motivational speech, but all Nayeon could focus on was Jihyo. She didn’t glance back. She didn’t react. Nothing. The coldness of her absence, of her disengagement, made the loss feel even more absolute. After today Nayeon would never see Jihyo again. Would never get the opportunity to see the way her face would scrunch up when she was pissed. Would never see... her. And she couldn't let that happen. 

 

 

 

 

 

After class, Nayeon cornered Jihyo in the hall. "I beat you," she blurted, more desperate than proud.

 

 

 

 

"Yeah... ?" Jihyo’s brows furrowed. Her face gave the barest hint of annoyance. And that was enough for Nayeon to hold onto.  "Do you want a congratulations or something?"

 

 

 

 

 

Nayeon swallowed thickly. She didn’t know what she wanted. But it wasn't this. Not this emptiness Jihyo gave her, like she didn't matter at all. Like the sixteen weeks they had spent together meant nothing at all. "It's only because you missed out on two tests."

 

 

 

 

 

"Okay, and? You still beat me." Jihyo cocked her head to the side. "Congratulations. Now get out of my way."

 

 

 

 

"No."

 

 

 

 

"I'm really not in the mood to play."

 

 

 

 

"Neither am I."

 

 

 

 

"Now go."

 

 

 

 

"No."

 

 

 

 

The steel in Jihyo’s voice broke, if only for a second. "What the fuck do you want from me Im?"  

 

 

 

 

"I... I don't know." Nayeon’s heart thundered in her chest. It felt as though she had just slipped from a skyscraper.

 

 

 

 

God. This was insane. She was insane. But she just couldn't stand to have Jihyo watch her like she meant nothing.

 

 

 

 

 

"You don't know..." Jihyo echoed, blinking like she couldn't believe what she was seeing. "You beat me. You beat everyone— that’s what you wanted, isn’t it? Bragging rights? You got them. Now leave me alone."

 

 

 

 

Nayeon’s throat tightened. She wanted to apologize all of a sudden. But for... what? She didn't know why she was scrambling, all that she knew was that somewhere somehow, she had gone too far. And she didn't know how to fix it. So all she could manage was to drop her arms, allowing Jihyo to slip past her. An apology she couldn't formulate laying heavy on her tongue as she watched the other woman walk off.

 

 

 

 

For the first time, it hit her— she hadn’t been playing a game. Not really. Jihyo hadn’t just been an opponent. She’d been… something else. Something she couldn’t name, because naming it would make the loss real. A loss that made her chest ache.

 

 

 

 

 

And now it was too late. Jihyo had already bid the offer for civility and she had carelessly spat on it. Now they were nothing at all.

 

 

 

 

 

From that day forward, Jihyo never looked at her the same. No more barbed bickering, no rivalry sharp enough to spark. Only silence. Cold, clean, final. And in that silence, something took root — resentment that hardened into memory, memory that calcified into hatred. She'd never know if that was the day Jihyo stopped seeing her as competition. Or if Jihyo ever saw her as competition to begin with.

 

 

 

 

All that she knew was that it was the day Jihyo started seeing her as nothing at all.

 

 

 

 

Chapter 10: Coincidence (iii)

Summary:

In which Sana stops lying to herself.

 

Or,

 

final part of the unseen but familiar snapshots of sana's journey reckoning with the fact that finding her mate was perhaps not the end of her life as she knew it.

Notes:

Late Bloomer funfact #10: Initially, since the story was just a bunch of scenes I written over the years, I did have a lot of pov chapters of Sana's base character. I had to rework a lot of it because like I mentioned before her base character was much more mean and conniving than she was in this and I just couldn't make her that mean lol. So I made her a contradictory mess instead :) Think it was a healthy compromise.

 

Enjoy!!!

 

 

 

Sana was, admittedly, a little bit of a mess. She contradicted herself more times than not. She had a short fuse that burned hotter than necessary. Her mind and body rarely agreed, and navigating her was like reading a map with missing pieces.

 

 

 

 

 

Had always been. Will likely always be. But she was good at masking it... it was one of the top things her dad had taught her how to navigate. If you could point out your own flaws, that meant you could supplement them, and if you could supplement them, it meant you could keep yourself safe from danger. And she had been relatively good at that over the years. 

 

 

 

 

 

Sana had always been good at compartmentalizing. So when the Mina-shaped problem appeared, she neatly put it in a box to solve later. For weeks, she had managed to ignore it. Ignore the guilt that pressed down on her throat everytime her thoughts strayed.

 

 

 

 

 

The last time she had considered Mina seriously was when Momo asked for her address to apologize. Which was... well fair— only God knew how many apologies Mina deserved. Sana knew she had no right to refuse, but she hesitated because part of her wanted to keep one thing to herself: her ability to sense Mina. Eventually, she gave it up though. Now Momo and Mina were friends
 

 

 

 

 

 
It felt like a cosmic joke, rubbing in that Mina was forgiving. Part of Sana hoped she was faking it, that the niceness was an elaborate act like her dad had claimed and Sana hadn’t needlessly broken someone good's heart. But she didn’t want to test it. Not after seeing the damage she’d done.

 

 

 

 

 
So she forced herself to focus on work. And not the nonsense she had done.

 

 

 

 

 

It was one of her strengths, actually: being able to slide into any room with a smile, any title with confidence. New job, new suit, new floor... no problem. She could keep everything in neat little boxes if she just focused. Keep the boxes neat, and no one could see the mess inside. 

 

 

 

 

 

The new job at T-Corp was supposed to be tidy, professional, stable. She wasn’t expecting to feel anything today— just paperwork from the old Director’s unfinished projects. She didn’t even have time for coffee. She had only checked the name of her new transcribing coworker that morning before she was bouldering towards her office. 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Which might've been her mistake. Just like ignoring that little tug at the back of her head was. The pull on her sternum. The compass leading her in a certain direction she had started to dread. She had ignored it all morning. 

 

 

 

 

Until she walked into her new office and found Mina sitting there— like some unspoken truth that had been left in the dark too long and had finally grown legs. Her breath caught the second she saw her. There she was. In soft neutral tones, her dark hair tucked behind one ear, glasses perched on the bridge of her nose. The glasses were... new. 

 

 

 

 

 

So was the timid tension in Mina’s shoulders. She sat poised, maybe too poised, a paper coffee cup gripped between her hands like it might ground her. Sana could smell her before she registered the smell— that sweet cool scent that lingered even when they weren’t touching. It punched through her ribs.

 

 

 

 

 

God. Why did she still smell good? The rut should've been over. Or did Mina just naturally smell good? It shouldn't have even mattered to her, but she couldn’t focus on anything else. Sana's brain short-circuited. This wasn’t supposed to happen.

 

 

 

 

 

 

She froze in the doorway, folders clutched against her chest like a shield. For the first time in weeks, her carefully structured calm fractured. Just a little. "You’re... Park Mina?"

 

 

 

 

 

The words slipped out before she could stop them. Not what she meant to say; not 'Hi' not 'I didn’t know you worked here'— just that. Her voice barely worked, so she cleared it and stood a little straighter. Trying to stop the mess from spilling out.

 

 

 

 

"Adoptive family name." Mina replied, steady but tight. 

 

 

 

 

 

Of course Mina wouldn't go by her Thilian house name unless absolutely necessary. God. She was such an idiot. And she didn't know how to shut her mouth apparently before the next words came bouldering out of her.

 

 

 

 

"I see." Sana bit down on her lip, coiling at the pit of her stomach getting worse, hold on the folders tightening "And your House name?" 

 

 

 

 

She already knew it. Her grandmother had told her the name of the house she was promised to when she was eight and still hopeful for a future she shouldn't have even considered. She needed to hear it aloud though. Needed it to be true to justify the way her entire chest had gone hollow and hot at the same time.

 

 

 

 

 

"Myōi."

 

 

 

 

 

The word settled in her bones like a punch. She didn’t know what expression she made, but she could feel her own posture give just slightly, and her eyes dropped to her pinky, to the inked reminder she would carry forever. M.M. She kept it covered most days when her chest felt particularly tight looking at it. But today she had left hands open, thinking she didn't really have to hide it at her workplace since no one would've understood the Thiliaes letters.

 

 

 

 

 

The irony burned.

 

 

 

 

 

It didn’t escape her that Mina noticed. Her eyes flicked there. For a second, Sana felt… seen. Exposed. Like all the bravado she’d wrapped herself in; boss title, polished clothes, calm demeanor— meant nothing. And all Mina really had left to take in was the incomprehensible mess Sana carried. 

 

 

 

 

 

 

She noticed the way Mina stiffened in her seat when Sana closed the door behind her. The way her eyes got a little more frantic as she watched Sana move. And it gave Sana pause. Enough so to make the tightening coil in her stomach loosen. Was Mina... nervous? The drumming heartbeat Sana could hear certainly indicated as much. But she had no reason to be, Sana was the one at a disadvantage here.

 

 

 

 

 

Or at least that's what she kept telling herself. 

 

 

 

 

 

Sana sat down. Didn’t look at Mina at first, couldn’t even though she wanted to. Her eyes locked on the coffee and bagel she hadn't initially noticed neatly placed on a napkin on her desk, and her heart did something weird. Tumbled forward and backward at the same time.

 

 

 

 

 

"Oh. Uhm, that's for you." Mina mumbled out. "Seungwan said that's your usual, and that you didn't get it today, so I uh... I usually got Mr. Kim coffee for our meetings, I thought— so yeah... "

 

 

 

 

 

Sana looked up.

 

 

 

 

Mina looked embarrassed. Like she was worried the gesture was too much. And Sana’s heart ached little with it. She stared at Mina for a moment, overcome with the need to take away that worried look on her face.

 

 

 

 

 

"That’s really sweet of you," Sana said, gentler than she meant to. "Thank you."

 

 

 

 

 

Mina just shrugged, brushing it off, but her eyes fell elsewhere. "It’s free anyway."

 

 

 

 

But Sana couldn’t let it go. Not yet.
"The bagel isn’t."

 

 

 

 

 

She ended up watching Mina like she was trying to memorize a version of her she hadn’t been allowed to see before. Casual. Glasses that definitely weren't necessary given that all Thilians had perfect vision. Kind. The type of kind that went out of her way to get their coworker a coffee and an overpriced bagel. It... didn't make sense. It shouldn’t have made sense. It left a bitter taste in her mouth, so Sana asked something else.

 

 

 

 

 

"You wear glasses?" she asked, trying to anchor herself with something benign. 

 

 

 

 

But even the glasses made her feel something. They made Mina look... soft. And that softness terrified her. Like maybe she’d been wrong. Horribly wrong. Like maybe Mina really was as harmless as her instincts screamed at her. And Mina's answer made her feel worse because it was so painfully considerate. The glasses were suppressors and Mina wore them to stop from having any potential episodes. Like she were something dangerous that needed to be contained. 

 

 

 

 

 

That thought hurt too. Sana felt something bitter twist in her chest. Against her will, she remembered what Mina looked like on the mattress during her rut. Flushed, dazed. Desperate not to hurt her. Desperate to protect her. Alone. She wanted to prod on that. Wanted to ask if Mina was okay because the Mina she was looking at didn’t look dangerous. She looked—

 

 

 

 

 

"Why are you nervous?" she asked suddenly, because the question was burning a hole in her. But she regretted it as soon as it left 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Mina flinched. It was subtle but visible and Sana felt awful. Mina’s eyes snapped up to hers and Sana flinched internally at the sheer vulnerability in them. Hurt layered with restraint.

 

 

 

 

Her voice was small but sharp: "You just make me nervous, is all."

 

 

 

 

"Why?" 

 

 

 

 

 

Mina frowned, the first one she had given since they met and Sana unfortunately found it cute. "Sana, are you really asking me that? After everything?"

 

 

 

 

 

Ah. Right. That. Of course Mina would still be shaken. Of course she would still be raw from everything that had happened. But the way she looked at her— like Sana had power to hurt her just by sitting there— was like sandpaper on Sana’s skin. Sana had prepped for years to fight off a mate’s claim, never for the scenario where she was the one doing the hurting. Where she was bad guy.  And now all she did was fumble.

 

 

 

 

 

"Right. Dumb question," she said quickly. "Sorry."

 

 

 

 

 

There was a pause, taut and crackling.

 

 

 

 

Then Mina asked, "Why are you asking me all these questions anyway?"

 

 

 

 

 

 

"I... don’t know," she admitted, frustrated with herself. Some of her sense was returning to her. "You just look so different like this. So... soft? Gentle almost. I don’t know, it makes me want to find out if you're okay."

 

 

 

 

 

Her voice broke slightly on the last word.
Because the thing was: Mina looked okay. But Sana didn’t feel okay seeing her. She expected someone else. Something else. Expected someone who’d be cold, or furious, or controlling. Especially after getting rejected and hurt the way she did. And instead, Sana got warmth. She got care. And it messed with every wall she’d built around the idea of the pairbond. Around alphas. Around Mina.

 

 

 

 

 

This Mina was different from the one in a supersuit, or unconscious in her arms, or held in a quarantine ward. She was… real. Present. Hurt. And Sana couldn’t make the parts line up.

 

 

 

 

 

 

Mina blinked at her. Like she didn’t know what to do with that. Neither did Sana. She felt frustrated for them both. She hated when her emotions spun out of control like this and she no longer made sense to herself. And she hated being wrong. Hated that her dad might've been wrong.

 

 

 

 

 

 

"You're just so— ugh. I really dont want to be wrong Mina, because that means I've been wrong about everything."

 

 

 

 

 

Mina looked confused. Rightly so. "Wrong about what?"

 

 

 

 

"It's just... " Sana cut herself off, looking down at her cup and bagel. Looking at it made her chest burn. Why the hell did Mina have to give her the goddamn coffee? Why'd she have to care? "You weren’t supposed to be like this."

 

 

 

 

"Like... what?"

 

 

 

 

"Like you."

 

 

 

 

 

God. It sounded stupid when she said it out loud. But it was true. She had prepared herself for a monster. And instead, she got the most soft-spoken woman in the world, who bought her bagels and wore glasses to protect people from herself. 

 

 

 

 

 

Mina blinked. "Like myself?"

 

 

 

 

"Yes."

 

 

 

 

They both fell silent. And Sana felt something bubbling in her chest that she couldn’t pin: Guilt? Shame? Sadness? And maybe... longing. She needed space to sort it all out. To put it back in their boxes.

 

 

 

 

And it hurt her to say it— because part of her wanted to stay, to ask more, to unpick the guilt that had knotted between them. But another part, the part that feared loss of control, the part that didn’t want to fall, whispered that she needed to run.

 

 

 

 

Sana stared down at her coffee. There had been something oddly easier when Mina was just a myth... an unreachable mate that would ruin her life. A doomed bond. An idea. But Mina wasn’t an idea anymore. She wasn’t some chain or biological obligation, she was Mina. And that terrified Sana more than anything. Because it was so easy to be disarmed by her.

 

 

 

 

 

"Let's just finish up what we're supposed to do today and then I can leave, okay? Would that make you feel better?"

 

 

 

 

 

Mina’s voice was gentle. Not cold. Not angry. Just… careful. Like she was trying calm Sana down. 

 

 

 

 

 

Sana met her eyes, and got lost for a moment. They were so dark, almost black, but they didn’t even seem annoyed. Or frustrated. They were just... kind. Warm. Like she understood Sana was struggling and genuinely wanted to help. Sana didn’t want that.

 

 

 

 

 

She wanted to scream and pull at her hair at the same time: Why couldn't you be a goddamn asshole?  Don't look at me like that. Be mad. Be furious. Let me hate you. Give me just one reason to stay away forever. 

 

 

 

 

But Mina didn’t. She just waited, patiently, like Sana wasn’t the reason she was hurting. 

 

 

 

 

 

Sana shriveled into herself and said something else instead. "Yeah. I think I need some space from you."

 

 

 

 

The words tasted wrong. But she meant them. If she didn’t step back now, she’d say something too honest. Or do something too reckless. Something that went against the rules that would keep her safe. And so, they worked. And Sana hoped the distance they had would remain. For her own sanity.

 

 

 

---

 

 

 

 

Sana managed exactly a week and a half of normalcy. A week and a half of ignoring the little tug at the back of her head. A week and a half of having her head screwed on right. A week and a half of pretending like she wasn't about a step away from combusting whenever she had to draft up an email to the woman she needed erased from her mind. And she was doing well. Really well. Things were feeling normal.

 

 

 

 

 

Until the Queen meretode attack in Gangnam happened. Until Sana felt a burn take over her chest and refuse to extinguish even hours later. Until Mina held another woman like she was important. Cradled said woman to her chest protectively. 

 

 

 

 

 

Sana didn’t get a good look at the woman but she could tell that the woman was pretty. Human. Vulnerable. Sana felt sick.

 

 

 

 

 

She had never considered that there'd be other people in Mina's life romantically, which she knew was unrealistic. She had just been so focused on the fact that Mina was well... Mina and not who she envisioned that she hadn't really considered anything else. Hadn’t considered any third parties. Hadn’t even considered anyone being at Mina's side who wasn't her.

 

 

 

 

 

She knew she was being ridiculous, she had no right to feel the way she was. No right to have a claim. Mina was young, attractive and seemed to have the patience and kindness of a saint— of course she'd be on someone's radar. Of course she'd have people interested in her. Of course... but god, Sana hated herself for how threathened she felt all of a sudden. She wasn’t this person. She wasn’t possessive or petty. That was the kind of omega her father warned her not to become— the kind who got hurt.

 

 

 

 

 

But there she was, hovering just outside Mina’s apartment balcony at night, staring at Mina’s hands in the dark like they still held someone else.

 

 

 

 

It wasn’t the holding that killed her. It was how natural Mina was with it. Like it meant nothing. And that terrified her because Mina had never touched her like it that yet. The jealousy wasn’t rational. It wasn’t even fair. But it was real. And underneath it, curling in the quiet, was something even worse.

 

 

 

 

Fear.

 

 

 

 

Fear that her body had decided Mina was already hers, and Sana was the only one too late to realize it.

 

 

 

 

The night air was cool against Sana’s skin, but it wasn’t the temperature that made her shiver. It was the fact that she was hovering outside Mina’s balcony like some kind of awkward shadow that didn’t belong. She hadn’t planned on staying this long. She never did, she just wanted to fly to cool off her rising fire she felt bottling up inside of her. And yet here she was, floating midair in her sweats, heart racing like she was about to steal something.

 

 

 

 

 

Momo told her she should let it go. That she was being unreasonable. That she was being unfair. But God. The image had burned in her mind and the cord linked to her chest tugged her all day until she could no longer ignore it. She didn’t need to be here. But she wanted to. 

 

 

 

 

Sana hovered just out of sight, shame pinching at her every breath. She knew Mina could sense her but she wasn't ready to show herself yet. She didn't know what she wanted to say without it coming out as a big hypocritical mess.

 

 

 

 

 

Then Mina’s voice cut through the quiet: "Are you going to say something or are you just going to hover in the dark?"

 

 

 

 

Caught. Of course she was caught. Sana floated forward with a small, sheepish smile— half apology, half defense. She was in sweatpants and a tee, hair windblown from her flight, but Mina still looked at her like she was something impossible. That gaze made Sana’s stomach twist. She never knew being seen— really seen —could feel like this. Like guilt. Like longing. Like her entire world hinged on the curve of Mina’s brow.

 

 

 

 

 

"Hey," she said, drifting closer, trying to sound casual when she felt anything but.

 

 

 

 

 

Mina rose from her chair she had been hunched over with the kind of composure that always made Sana feel clumsy just by comparison. "Hi. What can I help you with?"

 

 

 

 

Always polite. Always steady. While Sana felt like her insides were a storm. She pushed the stone slab forward, her excuse for being here. 

 

 

 

"Momo said you’d probably want to see this." It was only partly true. Momo would've brought it herself because she was going to hang out with Mina tomorrow. But Sana had... persuaded her. "We found it while we were fighting the Queen meretode. We already did our own scans on it, but we're coming up empty. Maybe JYP can manage to get better results."

 

 

 

 

Mina took it delicately, as if even now she feared touching anything from Sana’s world too closely. Sana watched her fingers, elegant and careful, tracing the grooves with focused reverence. 

 

 

 

 

 

Perfect. Something safe to focus on. Something to focus on besides the thundering in her chest. Mina’s eyes on the rune, not on her. Watching Mina work was easier— except it wasn’t, because Sana couldn’t stop noticing the curve of her mouth as she read, or the crease in her brow when she concentrated. 

 

 

 

 

 

"Gythlian script… it means birth," Mina murmured.

 

 

 

 

The word landed in Sana’s chest with a weight she didn’t know what to do with. Birth. Something beginning. It momentarily distracted her from the heat in her chest. Her mouth got ahead of her thoughts, sharper than she meant. "Birth? What does that mean?"

 

 

 

 

"I don't know yet." Mina sighed, gaze faraway as her brows furrowed in thought. "I'll take this to JYP in the morning. Thank you."

 

 

 

 

 

She could only nod, her voice catching in her throat. So polite. Always polite, Sana was starting to learn. Was she as polite when dealing with other women too?

 

 

 

 

Mina looked back to the table. But Sana wasn’t looking at the artifact anymore. She was watching Mina. The way her brows knit. The way her mouth pressed flat in thought. The way she fidgeted slightly when she realized she was being watched. She knew it made Mina uneasy. She knew it wasn’t fair. But the bond tugged at her like gravity, and she was still trying to fight the pull with every step.

 

 

 

 

And she was losing the fight.

 

 

 

 

"Anything else?" Mina asked, already stepping back.

 

 

 

 

Yes. Too many things. Sana didn’t think. And then the words slipped out before she could stop them: "Do you usually hold women like that?"

 

 

 

 

 

Mina blinked at her, stunned. But Sana didn’t back down. The jealousy had gnawed at her all day. "Pardon?"

 

 

 

 

 

"At Gangnam today," Sana elaborated like Mina forgot, words flat and crawling up her throat like bile. "You were cradling a woman in your arms when the Queen meretode lunged at you. Do you usually hold the women you save like that?"

 

 

 

 

The silence that followed was instant and suffocating. Sana’s pulse spiked, cheeks heating like she’d just hurled herself off a cliff with no parachute.

 

 

 

 

"She fainted." Mina tried explaining. Trying to be rational and Sana should've felt eased by it, but she wasn’t. 

 

 

 

 

"You were carrying her before that."

 

 

 

 

Sana heard herself and hated it. Why did she say that? Why couldn’t she just leave it alone?

 

 

 

 

The image had been lodged in her head since Gangnam: Mina’s arms around that woman, steady, protective, tender in a way Sana hadn’t earned. She told herself it was nothing, just instinct, just Mina being Mina. Mina being a hero. But every time the memory resurfaced, it scraped against her chest like glass.

 

 

 

 

 

 

Mina blinked again, caught off guard, and explained. Logical. A sprained ankle. A fainting spell. How she was flying her to an ambulance. It was nothing. Innocent. Of course. Of course it was. But Sana’s stomach still twisted, refusing to believe what her mind knew. She hated that. Hated how her body and heart didn’t line up, how the bond kept twisting her insides into knots.

 

 

 

 

She should’ve laughed it off, made a joke, let it go. Instead, the jealousy stuck like a burr, prickling under her skin, and the next words came out sharp before she could stop them: "Do you think she’s pretty?"

 

 

 

 

 

There it was. Out in the open. Petty. Exposed. And Mina was looking at her like she’d just sprouted two heads, which honestly might have felt less humiliating than the truth— that Minatozaki Sana was jealous of a stranger she’d barely seen. Then to make the burning in her stomach worse, Mina gave her name, Miyeon, and said nothing more. 

 

 

 

 

But that was enough. A name made her real. Made her linger. It meant they knew each other. And suddenly Sana was comparing herself to someone she didn’t even know, replaying that single moment over and over, wondering if Mina’s arms would ever tighten around her the way it did Miyeon.

 

 

 

 

Yes, it was ridiculous. Mina wasn’t hers. Not yet— No, shit, not ever. She was never supposed to claim an alpha. She didn't want to. Not even soft-eyed ones that made her say and do stupid things. But the thought of anyone else pressed against Mina, seeing that softness up close, made Sana want to crawl out of her own skin.

 

 

 

 

 

"Sana..." She hated that her heart jolted at the sound of her name. Even if it was accompanied with the most incredulous sound ever. "Are you... are you seriously jealous right now? Over a woman that was passed out?"

 

 

 

 

 

Still angry, and a little raw, Sana couldn’t lie. But she didn’t want to admit the truth either. "Maybe."

 

 

 

 

 

And wasn’t that the problem? The fact that Sana knew what was wrong and yet she couldn't fight it. The silence thickened between them. Mina’s gaze sharpened, exhausted. Her patience waning. Sana could see the moment it snapped— could see her crack, and finally demand.

 

 

 

"What do you want from me, Sana?" Despite the vehemence in her tone, Mina didn’t sound upset. Just exhausted. 

 

 

 

 

 

The answer lodged in her throat. What she wanted was impossible. What she wanted didn’t make sense. What she wanted was terrifying. What she wanted was Mina. But she had no right to want that, so all that came out was, "I don’t know."

 

 

 

 

 

 

And wasn’t that the truth? She wanted Mina close, and it scared her. She wanted Mina far, and it hurt. But underneath it all, the thought of Miyeon— the thought of other people having Mina hurt more. She didn’t understand it.

 

 

 

 

"You don't know..." Mina repeated, before she scoffed. "You asked me to stay away and now you're here, acting like a jealous girlfriend and you don't know why?"

 

 

 

 

"I didn't ask you to stay away," Sana uselessly pointed out, leaning against the balcony railing to stop the spinning she felt in her head. "I asked for space."

 

 

 

 

 

"Isn't that the same thing?"

 

 

 

 

"Kinda. But also not."

 

 

 

 

Mina stared at Sana for a long moment. And Sana didn’t blame her for her exasperation. She had given Sana so much grace as it stood already. "I don't understand you."

 

 

 

 

"Me neither."

 

 

 

 

Sana just shrugged a shoulder, honestly unable to think of a better defense for herself. Her mess was out in the open and Mina was seeing it in its purest form and there was nothing she could do to veil it any more. 

 

 

 

 

 

"Why are you doing this to me?" Mina deadpanned and Sana’s jealousy halted for a moment as her confusion took over.

 

 

 

 

She questioned Mina, implored her to point out what she meant, which might've been an error on her part.

 

 

 

 

 

Because Mina laid it out for her; every wound, every contradiction, every cruel mixed signal Sana had left behind. The years of avoidance. The panicked way Sana choked her. The kidnapping. Down to the current jealousy she felt. Each word felt like a weight pressing down on her chest, putting out the fire that burned like she was getting sand thrown on it. She’d never wanted to see herself through Mina’s eyes, not like this. But she stood there, taking it, because Mina deserved at least that.

 

 

 

 

 

 

She didn’t even flinch when Mina said, "Don’t you think I’m more than entitled to feeling a little frustrated with your games right now?"

 

 

 

 

Because she was. Every word she said was true. Sana couldn’t argue. When the silence stretched too long, Sana forced the words past the tightness in her throat. She flew down now, feet touching the floor of Mina's balcony. 

 

 

 

 

 

"I didn’t realize it came out that way." She said quieter than she intended to. She took a step forward and her heart ached a little when Mina stiffened. "I’m sorry. Really. It’s just… I don’t know what to do with you. Everything I feel goes against everything I thought I knew.”

 

 

 

 

Sana was starting to realize that softness was dangerous too. Softness was the first step toward a collar. And yet, here she was, wanting Mina’s gentleness like it was air. Putting at it and pleading with Mina not to give it to anyone else.

 

 

 

 

 

 

Her gaze flicked to Mina’s hands as she tucked away the rune slab— hands that had steadied Miyeon, too— and the burn returned, sharper this time. It was like the bond wanted to pick at the scab just to watch her bleed.

 

 

 

 

 

Mina frowned, confused. "And what is it you thought you knew?"

 

 

 

 

 

And Sana told her. About her fear of alphas. Again. Of being controlled. Of being hurt. Of never being soft enough to be loved for real. Of never wanting to be possessed. And yet Mina had done none of that. Had done the opposite. Sana told her how weird it was.

 

 

 

 

 

How Mina had been... good. And Sana didn’t know how to deal with good. She’d been raised to believe mates were cages, that alphas were chains. But Mina wasn’t cruel, wasn’t harsh, wasn’t anything Sana had braced herself for. She was patient. Gentle. She cried where Sana expected anger. She understood where Sana expected control. It left her world off balance, her armor cracked in places she didn’t know how to fix.

 

 

 

 

 

 

And Mina... looked just as knocked off balance as Sana felt. Like she had no defense against whatever it was that was happening. Like she were equally as disarmed as Sana was. Her eyes soft and darting between Sana and space between them like she was rapidly losing her resolve with every step that Sana took forward. Becoming less and less guarded the more Sana spoke. The more Sana opened her up to the mess no one should've been able to handle.

 

 

 

 

 

Was that... it? Was simply telling the truth enough to soften her mate? Would it break down the wall Sana had technically laid foundation to? It was selfish and unfair, but Sana— still burning with jealousy and the truth of the enormity of her avoidance— took advantage of that. 

 

 

 

 

She took another step forward, crossing the invisible boundary line Mina had attempted to hold down since the start of this conversation. 

 

 

 

 

"You cried over me." She said after Mina attempted to diminish the weight of her vulnerability. Of just how special it was that she showed Sana that. Sana who was an exiled stranger that was never supposed to be a part of her life.

 

 

 

 

 

Mina looked to their feet, and Sana wanted to chase after her gaze immediately,  feeling even more unsteady without it on her. "I just found out the mate I've been mourning my entire life was alive, and knew of my whereabouts but never reached out because she was scared and didn't want me. I think that's enough reason to cry."

 

 

 

 

 

"It is and I'm sorry for hurting your feelings. Really, I am." Sana was in Mina's space entirely now. Enough to feel her body heat. Enough to want those eyes on her again. So Sana pushed: "And that what you said during your rut... is it true? That you might've loved me?"

 

 

 

 

That got Mina to bristle and attempt to back up, denial clearly ready to be released but Sana cut that short. She reached out, bare hands against Mina’s skin, cupping her face and reckless in the need to close the space. She held Mina's face firmly, so that her eyes were on Sana's. And the world stilled a little. Her palms tingled. Her chest ached. She was terrified to find out the answer despite the question being stuck in her mind for weeks.

 

 

 

 

 

It was one of the things that stood out most about Mina's rut-haze. How easily the confession had slipped from her tongue before she stopped herself. Sana tried not to think too much on it out of fear of it driving her mad, but the question was needled in her subconscious. Like a thorn she couldn't pull out. She needed to hear Mina say it outright. Like being reminded of it might've assuaged the burning she had in her chest. 

 

 

 

 

 

And so she repeated question that burned her tongue: "Were you in love with me, Mina?"

 

 

 

 

 

There was a beat of silence and Mina's eyes sparkled underneath the moonlight. Eyes vulnerable and open. Sana's heart stuttered. 

 

 

 

 

"Yes," Mina said, voice sure. Solid. "Had been for as long as I can remember."

 

 

 

 

 
It was simple. Honest. The kind of truth that didn’t waver. Mina looked at her as though she had just told Sana her biggest secret and she were about to float away if Sana didn't hold her down. As though Sana were the one with the power here and Mina was at her mercy.

 

 

 

 

She really... had it all wrong. 

 

 

 

 

 

Sana thought her heart might burst from the force of its pounding. The bond inside her sang, and she hated how much she wanted to lean into it. How much she wanted to believe in it. How much she wanted to hear Mina say it again. And again. 

 

 

 

 

Hearing the confession did something awful and addictive to Sana’s heart, even if it was in the past tense. Even though Mina had likely just been inlove with an idea, rather than the actual her since they had never met. But it didn't diminish the influence. Mina had loved her. Sana had been wanted and cherished even before she was met. 

 

 

 

 

 

A pleased feeling slithered over her, curling around her chest like a tight hug. The jealousy was quiet now, not the sharp stab it had been earlier, but a dull, persistent hum. Enough to remind Sana that her heart was greedy, selfish, desperate for Mina in a way that scared her. Enough to make the bond between them throb with both promise and ache. Feeling this close to desperation should've mortified her... and it likely would, when she managed to calm herself enough to think rationally. 

 

 

 

 

But all she could focus on right now was the way Mina was looking up at her. Hopeless.  Like an adorable puppy. Like Sana had the answers to everything. Like Sana was important enough to matter to her despite all the hurt she caused. It was addictive. And Sana wanted to lean more into it. Wanted to prod Mina if she still wanted Sana despite all that she had done. If she still loved her now even.

 

 

 

 

 

God, she was terrible. But for the first time in years she was being completely honest with someone. And she wanted to be. Her instincts soared and unfortunately, her scent betrayed her. Mina, as she always seemed to do, noticed. 

 

 

 

 

 

Mina stiffened,  mouth parting in confusion. "Wait. Don't tell me you like the thought of me being pathetically in love with you?"

 

 

 

 

 

The bond sang in her chest, yes! But the remaining bits of her rationale reminded her that wanting Mina to be hers alone was selfish.

 

 

 

 

She half-joked, voice too fragile to land as lightly as she hoped: "Would it make me an asshole if I said yes?"

 

 

 

 

 

Because she did like the thought. She liked it more than she should. And if Mina ever offered it to someone else, she wasn’t sure she could survive it. The space between them grew heavy, electric, and Mina stepped back like she needed space.

 

 

 

 

 

And the comedown from the heated moment hit Sana with the force of a boulder, as her shoulders slumped— dejected. Her body craved closeness because despite everything; being in Mina's space moored her. Made her feel grounded to earth in a way she hadn’t yet experienced before. How could someone make her feel dizzy and rooted at the same time? Holding onto Mina felt like clutching onto a rock during a sea storm. 

 

 

 

 

 

But it was still unfair. So Sana attempted to explain herself, haphazardly describing an omega's instinctual urges, compartmentalizing these feelings and rationalizing them so it was less about her and more about instinct. 

 

 

 

 

 

Mina looked like she didn’t believe a word Sana said, and well, fair. Sana was just talking circles around her feelings, trying to make them feel less intense than they actually were. Less confusing than they actually were. But Mina didn’t fall for it.

 

 

 

 

"Okay." Mina took another step back, this one shorter. And though the distance tightened her chest, Sana didn’t fight it. She already pushed too far. She imagined this whole thing was rather overwhelming.  "So, you realized that I'm not a shitty alpha and that I'm just a crybaby that was in love with you... what does any of that have to do with what you want from me?"

 

 

 

 

 

God. She doubted she'd ever get used to Mina being able to effortlessly cut through all Sana's fluff and bullshit and hit her where it was important. Forcing Sana to acknowledge what she had tiptoed around for ages. It made her uncomfortable with how easily Mina already seemed to be able to read her.

 

 

 

 

 

Still, the truth clawed its way out anyway. "I don't know. All I know is that can't stay away from you anymore."

 

 

 

 

 

It was more than just a confession— it was a plea: Don’t give that softness to anyone else. Not when I’m right here, finally reaching for it.

 

 

 

 

The insecurity was obvious in her tone and Mina managed to soften it somehow, likely without even knowing it. Redirecting Sana's mind from spiraling by joking that Sana managed to keep her distance for years and it shouldn't have been hard. Her words had no bite, even when she called Sana a little weird. It was enough to uncoil the rope around Sana's lungs. Allowing her to breathe properly for the first time tonight. 

 

 

 

 

 

When Mina asked what she wanted to do, Sana’s mind spun, tripping over answers too big to say. So she reached for the only one she could manage: a compromise between her head and her instincts. 

 

 

 

 

 

"Can we start over?"

 

 

 

 

It was clumsy, and maybe a little pathetic. But it was honest and that was more than a breakthrough for Sana. It was life altering. She rarely made life altering decisions like this, so the nerves flooded her as she watched Mina consider the tentative olive branch she offered with an unreadable expression. Sana's heart stopped the entire moment Mina thought and then—

 

 

 

 

Mina’s hand hovered for a moment before reaching out, their fingers brushing as they clasped as she introduced herself, sealing the fragile promise between them. A clean slate. A start over.

 

 

 

 

She clasped Mina’s hand in both of hers, clinging to the chance like it might vanish if she let go. Her chest swelled, aching with something too big to contain— relief, longing, fear, all tangled together. She didn’t want to let go. Didn’t want to lose the warmth of Mina’s skin against hers.
And yet… she couldn’t stop herself from wondering if this would all work out without addressing her obvious conflicting feelings.

 

 

 

 

 

Still, she'd rather get to know Mina than not at all and stew in shadows with emotions no one could unpack. She squeezed Mina’s hand tighter, covering the flicker of insecurity with a bright smile. The first one she genuinely meant in weeks. 

 

 

 

 

"Kim Sana." She said softly, mirroring Mina's needlessly professional but adorable introduction. "Occasionally an unnamed vigilante from Busan. Initially Hirai Sana from Japan. Last born of House Minatozaki."

 

 

 

 

 

Her pinky brushed Mina’s, a tiny, fragile touch, and the spark it sent through her made her hold on tighter. And Mina, despite looking away, didn't let go... she held on tighter.

 

 

 

It was maybe the best decision Sana would ever make. Or... the one that ruined  her. But for once, she didn’t run away and hide.

 

 

 

 

Chapter 11: Water Under the Bridge (i)

Summary:

In which Jihyo is forced to reckon with the fact that maybe her sister's choice in companions isn't so questionable after all.

 

 

Or,

 

part one of samo worming their way into jihyo's frigid shell.

Notes:

Late Bloomer funfact #11: Jihyo’s base character did not have as much scenes as she ended up having, but around the time I was editing, Sahyo's 2wice date came out and I just felt compelled to write more Jihyo in lol.

 

Enjoy!!!

 

Jihyo hadn't considered Mina’s friend and girlfriend, well, at all since she begrudgingly accepted that they were now a permanent fixture in Mina's life. They were fixtures in Mina’s orbit... not in hers. Not yet. So she hadn’t spared them much thought until she realized just why they were a permanent fixture in Mina's life.

 

 

 

 

 

 

Jihyo was sipping a mojito on Maui's Ka'anapali Beach, watching Jeongyeon paddle along the coastline with her surfboard when she got the phone call that stopped her world for a full five minutes.

 

 

 

 

 

It was her normal phone that rang, not her work phone so Jihyo felt more inclined to answer, thinking it was probably her parents detailing their trip to Thailand. She frowned down at the number when she didn’t recognize it, but something, perhaps even cosmic, compelled her to answer. And thank goodness she did.

 

 

 

 

 

 

"Hello?" she answered, holding the phone to her ear as she dropped her half empty glass to tray on the side of her beach lounge chair. 

 

 

 

 

 

 

"Park Jihyo...?" the voice sounded vaguely familiar and out of breath, which prompted Jihyo to sit upright. 

 

 

 

 

 

 

"Speaking." Jihyo eyed Jeongyeon in her periphery as she made her way out the water. "Who is this?"

 

 

 

 

 

"Oh, uh, shit. It's Momo." There was rustling on the other end of the phone.  "Mina's friend, I'm calling to—"

 

 

 

 

The brute... there was only one reason she'd ever be calling Jihyo: Mina.

 

 

 

 

 

Jihyo's heart lurched up her throat. "What happened to her?"

 

 

 

 

 

"She's hurt Jihyo, real bad." Momo cut right to it, voice sounding soft. "JYP took her somewhere but I couldn't follow her. And I don't know what they're doing but their main headquarters have been put under lockdown."

 

 

 

 

 

 

"Lockdown? What the hell does that even mean?" Jihyo’s words came sharp, biting.

 

 

 

 

 

 

"I’m telling you what I saw," Momo snapped back, her voice raw with fear. "She struck the mothership core. Sana was the one who caught her when she fell and tried asking some JYP agent named Dahyun for help. They dragged Mina away before I could—" Her breath caught. "I'm sorry. I should’ve—"

 

 

 

 

 

"Don't." Jihyo pressed a hand hard against her sternum, trying to ground herself. She couldn’t afford Momo’s guilt on top of her own rising panic. "Just tell me everything you know. Every detail."

 

 

 

 

 

Momo continued, listing off what exactly was going in Seoul. What had been going on in Seoul for weeks now apparently. Hostile extraterrestrial contact. Craters. Pod sightings. The whole thing. And Jihyo listened with bated breath, standing up from her lounge chair to pace as her mind ran a mile a minute attempting to organize everything Momo was telling her. Every new word from Momo was another knot tightening around her ribs.

 

 

 

 

 

She had known of the craters, but she didn’t know of the pod developments. Mina hadn’t told her ant of that. Jihyo felt something heavy sinking down in her chest.

 

 

 

 

 

 

She had dismissed Mina’s friends as little more than satellites in her orbit, harmless and irrelevant. But it was Momo’s voice cracking across continents, Momo and Sana who had seen the moment Mina went under, Momo who had reached for Jihyo because no one else would. And in that bitter instant, Jihyo felt at a disadvantage. 

 

 

 

 

 

 

By the time Momo’s voice cracked into silence, Jihyo’s mojito was forgotten, her skin sticky with salt and dread. Every fact piled into her like stones, heavy and suffocating. The craters, the sightings, the headquarters in lockdown; news she should have been briefed on already, news she would have been briefed on if anyone at JYP had thought she deserved to know.

 

 

 

 

Her stomach turned. Of course they hadn’t told her. Mina was always going to be an asset to them first. And she was nothing but an ex-employee.

 

 

 

 

 

After giving a short summary of the phone call to Jeongyeon, they both made their way back to their hotel— honeymoon officially over. Jeongyeon tried her best to calm Jihyo, but her mind was already firing up. Already trailblazing through her emotions like they were a roulette wheel. She couldn't let go off Momo’s words. Especially the mention of Dahyun. That was the part that stuck out to her most. 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Because Jihyo checked all her phones and she received not one call from Dahyun. Not one alert. It made something twist in her stomach. Dahyun was a friend she'd known for years and briefed her regularly on the happenings in JYP, especially if they had to do with Mina. But she had said not one singular thing about this. And Jihyo attempted to call her a solid thirteen times, before just giving up, imagining the worst. Had she...?

 

 

 

 

Her fingers shook as she switched phone numbers, dialing the one number she hated herself for needing. JYP agent line.

 

 

 

 

 

Dahyun answered her JYP work line on the third ring and Jihyo’s worry melded into anger. "Agent Kim speaking."

 

 

 

She sounded... fine. Not her usual tone, but clearly not injured enough to be off duty.

 

 

 

 

 

Jihyo’s blood boiled so fast she nearly dropped her tablet in her other hand as she held her phone up. So Dahyun was okay, yet she wasn't calling Jihyo? "Dahyun, why the fuck haven't you told me about Mina?!"

 

 

 

 

 

"You know I can't tell you—"

 

 

 

 

 

 

"Bullshit." Jihyo snapped, striding across the hotel room, bare feet slapping against polished wood. "She's my sister, you talk to me first. It's our rule. How—"

 

 

 

 

 

"She's also a JYP agent." Dahyun’s tone was clipped, bureaucratic, like she’d rehearsed it. "And she was injured in duty. That makes her our responsibility."

 

 

 

 

 

"Makes her your responsibility..." Jihyo halted mid-step, chest heaving. Her free hand fisted tight at her side until her nails bit into her palm. Jihyo’s throat burned. "She's not a goddamn weapon you just have to deal with. I thought you were better than this— better than treating her like a thing you can shelve and forget."

 

 

 

 

 

 

"Jihyo..." Dahyun's voice cracked, her coldness fracturing ever so slightly. "You know that's not what I meant. I—I'd ... I'd never treat her like that. You know this."

 

 

 

 

 

Jihyo did know. She knew the extend of Dahyun’s feelings towards Mina quite well actually. And out of everyone in that godforsaken organization, Dahyun was likely the only one that actually cared enough to see Mina pass what she provided. But it was still JYP she worked for. Mina was and would always just be another asset to them. An asset to be used and discarded as they saw fit.

 

 

 

 

 

 

That was just the way they worked. It was why Jihyo left them after so many years of service. And she would not trust them with Mina in an injured state. 

 

 

 

 

 

 

"Then prove it," Jihyo pressed, pacing again, heart jackhammering against her ribs. "Tell me where she is. Tell me her code."

 

 

 

 

 

 

Silence. The line buzzed faintly in her ear.

 

 

 

 

 

 

"Dahyun." Jihyo’s voice dropped low, dangerous, throat tight from holding back a scream. "Don’t make me ask again."

 

 

 

 

 

 

A breath on the line, unsteady. "She’s under JYP jurisdiction now."

 

 

 

 

 

For a moment Jihyo thought the line had gone dead, because surely Dahyun couldn’t mean it. Surely this wasn’t the same Dahyun that had called Jihyo in every other time Mina needed her help because she got injured in duty. Surely this wasn’t the same Dahyun that she had known and worked with for years. 

 

 

 

 

 

But it was the same Dahyun. The same Dahyun who didn't reach out to Jihyo. The same one who likely wouldnt have reached out if she didn’t call. The same one who was now attempting to put a faux professional wall between them. And Jihyo felt betrayed in a way she didn't know how to articulate. 

 

 

 

 

 

"Jurisdiction?" The word seared her tongue. She pressed her fist into her sternum as if she could pin her heart in place. "She bleeds, Dahyun. She hurts. Don’t you dare reduce her to paperwork."

 

 

 

 

 

"That’s not what I—"

 

 

 

 

 

"Then what did you mean?" Jihyo cut her off, heat rising under her skin. "Tell it to me straight. Tell me my sister is just a line in your goddamn protocol."

 

 

 

 

 

 

"Stop it" Dahyun snapped suddenly, but her voice shook like a pane of glass about to crack.

 

 

 

 

 

 

"You stop it," Jihyo shot back, gripping the phone so hard the plastic creaked. 

 

 

 

 

 

She couldn’t believe Dahyun was really fighting her on this after all they've been through. After everything she herself experienced with them. 

 

 

 

 

 

 

"You know I work with her best," Jihyo pushed, her voice breaking on the edge of fury. "I’m her physician. Me. Who was the one who nursed her through her first Code Green? Her Code Blue T? Her Code Black?"

 

 

 

 

 

"...Jihyo—"

 

 

 

 

 

"Who was it, Dahyun?"

 

 

 

 

 

The silence pressed in, heavy. Jihyo’s lungs burned from how shallow she was breathing. The image came unbidden: Mina’s eyes, half-lidded, bloodied lashes sticking together, still searching for her in the haze. Her stomach dropped just imagining how Mina must've been searching for her now in whatever state of consciousness she was in.

 

 

 

 

 

But Jihyo was in fucking Hawaii and begging someone she thought was an ally for her sister. It made her sick.

 

 

 

 

 

 

When Dahyun finally spoke, the fight had drained out of her. "You… were."

 

 

 

 

 

"Exactly." Jihyo exhaled through her teeth, forcing her shaking hand to steady. "Now cut this bullshit allegiance you have to JYP and give her to me. You know deep down they don’t have the tech to do what I can and will do."

 

 

 

 

 

Another shaky inhale across the line. Then, softer, almost pleading: "You don’t understand the pressure we’re under—"

 

 

 

 

 

"No," Jihyo said, each syllable sharp as broken glass. "You don’t understand what it means to keep someone alive when every code says they should already be gone." 

 

 

 

 

 

She remembered the horrifying feeling of seeing the flatline of Code Blue T, the deafening absence of a heartbeat, and then the sudden stutter back to life under her hands. Mina had always come back to her. She would now too. Jihyo just needed to get to her.

 

 

 

 

 

 

The silence that followed wasn’t cold— it was brittle, about to break. And then, almost as though she were struck with lightning, Jihyo forced her shoulders to relax. Remembering just who she was talking to. And remembering that bulldozing her way through this would not get her desired affect.

 

 

 

 

If you pushed too much, things broke. She tried to tamper down some of her fury. Tried to give Dahyun some grace despite being upset with her for not saying anything. 

 

 

 

 

"Please, Dahyun." Jihyo’s voice wavered now, not from weakness but from sheer exhaustion. "She… needs me. Just tell me her code."

 

 

 

 

 

 

A beat. Then a sigh, long and hollow, like Dahyun had let go of something heavy. "... Blue X."

 

 

 

 

Jihyo’s breath halted. "Fuck."

 

 

 

 

"We're trying to get a pulse." Dahyun tried to sound hopeful. "When do you get to Seoul?"

 

 

 

 

"Most flights are grounded right now so earliest I can manage is next week."

 

 

 

 

"Okay. We’ll… see what we can do till you come." Dahyun sucked in a shaky breath, as though she was holding herself together with her teeth.

 

 

 

 

 

Jihyo didn’t reply, too busy staring at all the canceled flight pages. She ended off the the call after promising to call Dahyun again to discuss how and when she'd pick up Mina. She would fix this. She had to.

 

 

 

 

But still a Code Blue X? That meant minimal brain activity and no pulse. What the hell did Mina get herself into? What was she thinking? Goddamn it. It was too close to a Code Red which was just straight up death. The Blue T was the closest Mina had ever gotten. And Jihyo barely had any idea what to do then. Her mind was already tripping over potential solutions. 

 

 

 

 

 

She'd have to boot up the stasis pod. Get the fresh xenofluid she had developed from the cryopod. She'd have to—

 

 

 

 

 

"Breathe babe," Jeongyeon's arms were suddenly around her from behind. It was then that Jihyo noticed she was shaking. "It'll be okay, just breathe." 

 

 

 

 

Jihyo sucked in a breath, leaning back into Jeongyeon's hold but not letting go of her tablet and phone. "She's Code Blue X."

 

 

 

 

 

Jeongyeon's hold tightened, nuzzling her temple. She didn’t need the explanation of what the JYP codes meant. Jihyo had ranted about them too many times as it stood. She just held Jihyo like she were trying to hold her together. And perhaps she was.

 

 

 

 

 

Jihyo didn’t cry. She wanted to, deserved to, but it would make it real. Crying was for grief. And Jihyo refused to grieve someone still technically alive. Code Blue meant there was still hope. Code Blue meant she had something to work with. And she'd fix this. Even if she’d been halfway gone for weeks. Even if Mina left to martyr herself without so much as a word.

 

 

 

 

Jeongyeon’s arms anchored her, but Jihyo’s mind was already moving past Maui, past the sand, past the comfort of the woman holding her. Mina wasn’t here. Mina was in a sterile containment unit, surrounded by strangers Jihyo didn’t trust.

 

 

 

 

And worse, Momo had done what Dahyun, what JYP, what every so-called ally who actually owed Mina hadn’t. She had picked up the phone. She had made sure Jihyo knew. That truth dug sharp and deep, because Jihyo had known Dahyun for years, trusted her, and yet it was Mina’s friend who had forced the truth into her hands and asked for help. 

 

 

 

 

 

She exhaled, steady, calculating. No tears. Not yet. No getting overwhelmed by her anger. She had a job to do.

 

 

 

 

---

 

 

 

The days blurred after that: a flight to Seoul, a quick call to her lab assistants to set up the stasis pod and calibration unit, answering calls from a concerned Momo, and half-heartedly accepting apologies from a decidedly less cold Dahyun.

 

 

 

 

It was a blur, but Jihyo was singularly focused. Especially when she finally got her sister into the pod. She didn’t let herself linger on how bruised Mina looked, how cold her skin felt under her gloves. She didn’t focus on any of that. All she let herself think about was fixing it. And she would.

 

 

 

 

 

Dahyun’s team managed to get Mina’s pulse back, but at the expense of her neural activity. The first tests were a wall Jihyo slammed against over and over. The xenofluid refused to take. The injector prongs deactivated every time she calibrated them to pierce skin and deliver the compound manually. Mina’s body wasn’t just weak, it was shutting out treatment.

 

 

 

 

 

 

That meant one thing: her body had entered metahuman shutdown. And shutdowns almost always ended in death so she was on a time crunch. She needed a workaround. Something Mina's body couldn’t refuse.Then it hit her.

 

 

 

 

A blood transfusion. 

 

 

 

 

Normally, xenofluid alone was enough; it transmuted to match Mina’s blood structure during battle recovery. But this time, her body rejected every foreign agent. Maybe what she needed wasn’t something synthetic, but something familiar. Something it recognized on a genomic level: Thilian blood.

 

 

 

 

 

From the Thilian Archive AI, Jihyo remembered that pairbond mates were genetically altered to be compatible— even their blood. Which meant… Mina’s body might accept Sana’s.

 

 

 

 

 

 

The thought sat in her throat like glass. She hated that it made sense, hated that the only answer was Sana. But Mina didn’t have time for her pride, so she made the call.

 

 

 

 

 

Sana answered without hesitation, her voice steady even under the weight Jihyo could hear. She hadn’t expected compliance without question, but she hadn’t expected it either. And she certainly hadn’t expected to hear the quiet devastation in Sana’s tone.

 

 

 

 

 

Jihyo didn’t prod further. She didn’t need to. She just needed the blood. That was it. It didn’t need to mean anything more.

 

 

 

 

 

 

But it did mean more than that.

 

 

 

 

 

 

Peripherally, she felt the bitterness fester: Momo, who technically owed her nothing, had been the one to call, to warn, to beg her to come. Dahyun hadn’t. JYP hadn’t. And Sana, who also owed her nothing, was the only one capable of helping her get Mina’s system back online. She left it at that. She didn’t have time to analyze what it meant.

 

 

 

 

 

It was only when Mina finally responded to the treatment that she allowed herself to confront the tangle of emotions lodged in her chest. She saved Momo and Sana’s numbers— practical reasons only, she told herself. Momo wouldn’t stop calling for updates, and she might need Sana again. Yet at the back of her mind, a little voice whispered that the distance she had kept between herself and them was rapidly shrinking.

 

 

 

 

 

Jihyo called Sana over after clearing Mina for visitation. She didn’t understand why she felt compelled to do it— she hadn’t even prepared a pass for Dahyun— but she did. Perhaps she recognized how much Sana needed to see that Mina was alive. Perhaps. But she didn’t care for her in that way. And yet, there she was, inviting Sana into her lab, hesitating for reasons she wouldn’t admit aloud.

 

 

 

 

 

 

She was still skeptical despite seeing the effects Mina’s injuries had on Sana. Jihyo doubted she’d ever trust Momo or Sana fully with Mina. But they showed up. They helped. They reached out. And Jihyo would never take such a thing lightly. She couldn’t deny it anymore: they were in the same boat when it came to Mina.

 

 

 

 

 

And the truth revealed itself in a single moment, sparked by a question from Sana, barbed yet fragile: "How are you so calm?"

 

 

 

 

 

Calm. That word nearly made Jihyo laugh. If Sana could feel the buzzing under her skin, she’d know better. But laughter wasn’t useful, so Jihyo kept her eyes on the monitor, fingers moving across the keys with mechanical precision. "I’m not. I’m fucking livid."

 

 

 

 

 

She didn’t need to look up to know Sana froze, her silence stretching like she’d been caught doing something wrong. Good, Jihyo thought, though it wasn’t spiteful, just truth. 

 

 

 

 

 

 "What?"

 

 

 

 

"Do you honestly think I could be unaffected by all this? My sister is half dead." The words rolled out sharper than she intended, but once the seal broke there was no stopping it. 

 

 

 

 

 

She was vibrating, the way her bones ached with fury, her thoughts chewing themselves raw. Images kept replaying: the call from Momo that Mina had detonated herself, the clipped coldness in Dahyun’s voice when she told her Mina was under JYP's jurisdiction, the sick humiliating feeling of having to beg for her own sister. Her jaw clenched until it hurt. 

 

 

 

 

 

Momo’s voice replayed the clearest. Breathless. Panicked. Honest. For a stranger, she’d been more human than the people Jihyo actually trusted. That contrast stung more than she’d admit out loud.

 

 

 

 

 

"I had to find out she blew herself up like a goddamn rocket through a stranger. Had to beg Dahyun to give her to me like I’m not her literal sister. Had to find out about the hundred other things she didn’t tell me for whatever bullshit reason too." She could hear her voice staying steady, but her face betrayed her— scrunching, twitching, betraying every ounce of rage her words couldn’t. "So yeah. I’m livid. I’ll continue to be when she wakes up too. And I'll still be livid even after I beat her dramatic ass up. But—" her hands stilled over the keyboard, "I have a job to do first."

 

 

 

 

 

 

For a second, silence settled. She could feel Sana staring at her. Like she’d peeled something raw open in front of her without meaning to. Jihyo kept her gaze on the code, let her rhythm pull her back into control.

 

 

 

 

 

When Sana finally spoke again, her voice was small, hesitant. "I thought I was unreasonable to be mad."

 

 

 

 

 

"You’re not." Jihyo’s typing grew louder, heavier, almost like she could drown out her own trembling. Her teeth dug into her cheek. "She's an idiot. An idiot shouldering a burden that's not even hers. JYP has tech for these things, yknow? Missiles designed to destroy any type of spacecraft within seconds and they likely would've brought that out. I know because I coded them myself because of the failed Craxian invasion last time. She didn’t even ask. Didn’t give us a chance to tell her. God, she's so—"

 

 

 

 

 

 

Her hands hovered, useless, trembling with the urge to smash the keyboard into pieces. She sucked in a breath instead, pressed her rage back under the surface. Held it there until her pulse steadied enough to keep working.

 

 

 

 

 

Still, the thought gnawed: Mina’s sacrifice hadn’t been necessary. She hadn’t needed to burn herself out. And Jihyo didn’t know whether that made her more furious at Mina or at herself. Maybe both. Maybe at Dahyun too. Maybe all of them.

 

 

 

 

 

Except Momo and Sana... surprisingly. 

 

 

 

 

 

Silence stretched again. It wasn’t hostile now, just heavy. Tangled. Jihyo could feel Sana beside her, curled in her own fury, but the sharpness of it had dulled. It felt… shared, in a way. Which was weird because she never imagined that she'd ever be sharing anything with Sana.

 

 

 

 

 

Then Sana’s voice, hoarse, cracked slightly on the edges: "I want to see her. Please."

 

 

 

 

 

Jihyo’s hands stilled. For a moment she just stared at the lines of code, let the plea settle into her chest. She’d known this was coming. She’d been waiting for it. And she was ready to give it.

 

 

 

 

She gave Sana the visitor’s pass. That was that. Sana visited every day; Momo every other day but never long. Jihyo stayed behind the control panel, observing, minimal dialogue exchanged. Her mind tumbled as she begrudgingly accepted that perhaps she had been wrong about them. 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Each day, Sana moved straight to the pod, pressing her palms against the barrier, whispering words Jihyo didn’t understand. Jihyo stayed behind the control panel, arms crossed, forcing her breathing even. She had seen this sight before, but Sana’s unwavering devastation… it was harder to ignore, even as visits stretched on.

 

 

 

 

 

She told herself it was irrelevant. Just grief, just emotion. Nothing useful. Still, her gaze would linger longer than she meant it to.

 

 

 

 

 

"She looks… so small," Sana said one particularly rough day, voice ragged.

 

 

 

 

Jihyo’s throat ached, but she pressed the reaction down and made her answer clinical. "She’s stable. That’s what matters."

 

 

 

 

 

Sana didn’t seem convinced. Her forehead touched the glass for a second, like she could cross the barrier if she pressed hard enough. Jihyo watched her shoulders shake, and something sour twisted in her chest. This was the woman Mina had chosen, the one she’d tethered herself to without Jihyo’s permission or approval.

 

 

 

 

And now, standing here, Sana looked like the only one who understood just how close to gone Mina really was. Perhaps she did. She mentioned something about not being able to feel Mina after all once she had detonated herself. 

 

 

 

 

 

That stung more than Jihyo wanted to admit.

 

 

 

 

 

"She’ll wake up." Jihyo said, sharper than she meant. "She doesn’t get a choice."

 

 

 

 

Sana flinched at the tone but nodded, eyes still locked on Mina. No argument. No protest. Just silent agreement.

 

 

 

 

It should’ve comforted Jihyo. It didn’t. It only made the buzzing under her skin louder— anger at Mina, at JYP, at Dahyun, at herself. And now, annoyingly, not at Sana. Because when she thought about it honestly, Sana had given without hesitation. She’d bled for Mina, quite literally, while Jihyo had been pacing half a world away.

 

 

 

 

 

The truth lodged like glass in her throat: Mina hadn’t chosen her companions lightly. She hadn’t chosen wrong. Jihyo had miscalculated.

 

 

 

 

 

Jihyo turned back to the monitor, fingers hovering over the keys until they steadied. "When she wakes," she muttered, more to herself than Sana, "I’m going to tear into her. She doesn’t get to martyr herself and leave us to clean it up."

 

 

 

 

Us.

 

 

 

 

There had never been an us before. It had always just been Jihyo dealing with the side effects of Mina’s self-sacrificing inclinations. It felt weird but true. The word slipped out before she could stop it, and the weight of it hit immediately. Sana didn’t notice. Or maybe she did, because when Jihyo risked a glance, she found the other woman already watching her. Eyes pink and swollen but steady.

 

 

 

 

Jihyo dragged in a breath, forcing herself to look away. She didn’t trust Sana. She doubted she ever fully would. But she couldn’t deny it anymore: Mina hadn’t carried this alone, and Jihyo didn’t either.

 

 

 

 

 

And when Mina woke— because she would wake— they’d both make sure she never tried to again.

 

 

 

 

Series this work belongs to:

• Part 2 of Soulties and Superheroing