Chapter Text
Nayeon had forgotten how long the flight was between Los Angeles and Seoul.
She’d spent most of the 13 hours trying to distract herself with various movies and TV episodes since she was too anxious to sleep. English movies and TV shows, of course— after four years living in Los Angeles she liked to think of herself mostly fluent in the language. She didn’t watch Korean movies or dramas anymore.
When she finally got off the plane, grogginess made her long for her warm bed back in LA. Not for the first or last time, Nayeon wondered why the hell she ever agreed to come back to Korea— something she had sworn to herself she’d never do. Four years ago she had been determined to never step foot in this country ever again.
But now, here she was. As she exited the tunnel into the main airport, and then eventually past security, Nayeon found her anxiety growing again.
It’d been four years since the last time she was here, but the place hadn’t changed at all. She must’ve flown out of this airport a few dozen times back when she was— well, back then. Being here again just felt wrong. A lump rose in her throat as her eyes darted around, looking to see if anyone had noticed her. She was wearing a hat, a mask, and a hoodie, so she knew logically no one would have any idea who she was. Still, she pictured the throngs of fans who used to gather at the airports waiting for her, screaming her name and crowding at security to get suffocatingly close.
Nayeon just wanted to get out of here as quickly as possible.
She followed the signs pointing her to baggage claim, realizing that she’d never been to that part of the airport before. Her managers had always been the ones to get her bags for her. The thought of that past Nayeon, the princess who always had things done for her (done to her), made humorless giggles bubble up from her throat.
Once she had reclaimed her belongings (three suitcases and a backpack filled with enough clothes and toiletries to get her through what Jihyo had promised would only be a few months here), Nayeon turned around and froze.
Park Jihyo was standing there in the flesh, staring at her. The first thing Nayeon noticed was that her hair was shorter— she’d cut it a few inches above her shoulder. It looked nice, Nayeon thought. It made the younger woman look more mature.
Nayeon realized she must look different now, too. She thought back to the last time she’d seen Jihyo, before she’d left Korea— they’d met for coffee at a local shop, so her then-cherry red hair had been partially hidden under a cap. The meeting had been painfully normal. Jihyo went on about something about her work at the company, blissfully unaware that Nayeon had all her things packed and was planning on leaving the country the next morning. (She’d wanted to say something— she almost did. But what was there to really say?) When she’d hugged Jihyo a little tighter than usual and said goodbye that day, Nayeon had meant it in a much more permanent sense. Since then, she’d gone back to her natural color— she’d always hated dyeing her hair, and she fully intended to never do it again.
“Hey,” Jihyo eventually said, breaking the silence between them once she got over the shock of seeing her best friend for the first time in years. She held up her phone, “I called you a bunch of times to figure out where you were but it went straight to voicemail.”
Nayeon dug her own phone out of her bag and held the power button down to turn it back on. Once the screen lit up, her missed notifications popped up, including three calls and five text messages from Jihyo asking her where she was. She hesitated for a moment when she read the final message— “I’m excited to see you again, Nayeon.”
“I didn’t see it. It was off,” she eventually replied, fumbling a bit with her Korean. The last time she had spoken the language was on the phone with Jihyo a few months ago, when her (former?) best friend had somehow convinced her to fly back here. The rest of their communications, arranging her flight and whatnot, had been via text message.
Jihyo smiled, obviously catching Nayeon’s somewhat awkward pronunciation. She must have realized, too, that there was a good six feet between them, because all of a sudden she was approaching Nayeon. She threw her arms around her in a hug, murmuring, “God, I missed you so much.”
For her part, Nayeon stiffly kept her arms at her side and said nothing in reply. It wasn’t that she didn’t miss Jihyo too— she just refused to admit she missed anything (or anyone) here. If she allowed herself to go down that path, Nayeon was afraid she’d never get back to Los Angeles. Back to the place she now called her home.
When Jihyo pulled away, Nayeon didn’t miss the wounded expression on the woman’s face.
“Alright,” Jihyo cleared her throat. She took two of Nayeon’s suitcases and tilted her head toward the exit. “The car’s waiting outside.” Before Nayeon could say anything, Jihyo added, “Don’t worry, our staff are paid well for their discretion.” The disappointed expression that crossed Jihyo’s face made Nayeon uncomfortable enough that she had to look away. “The only people who will know you’re back are the ones who you choose to tell.”
So as few people as possible, Nayeon answered in her head. Instead of saying that out loud, she just shrugged and said, “Good.”
Jihyo led the way out of the airport and to the unmarked black van parked out on the curb. It was chillier than Nayeon expected— she’d forgotten what Octobers in Korea were like. They threw her luggage into the back, and once they climbed into the vehicle, Jihyo told the driver some address that Nayeon recognized as being in one of the nicer neighborhoods of Seoul.
“The company’s paying for your living accomodations,” Jihyo explained. “I checked out the apartment they picked for you, it’s really nice.”
It made Nayeon’s skin crawl, thinking of accepting the company’s money, accepting their “gifts”. She didn’t want to be reliant on them anymore. Hopefully, after this trip— if JYPE fulfilled the promises they made to her— she wouldn’t have to worry about that ever again. She just had to get through these few months, then she could move on with the rest of her life. No more strings attached.
Nayeon didn’t respond to Jihyo’s comment. They slipped into an oppressive silence, Jihyo fiddling with her phone and Nayeon gazing out the window at the passing cars and buildings. It was strange, sitting next to Jihyo— next to one of the people who had once known her the best. Nayeon wasn’t the same person she had been four years ago, and she doubted that Jihyo was, either. Four years later, and now they were practically strangers.
After what must’ve been at least twenty minutes of neither of them saying a word, Jihyo cleared her throat. Nayeon braced herself, preparing for the inevitable onslaught of questions: What have you been doing these last four years? Why didn’t you call? Why did you leave? How could you abandon your career like that? How could you abandon your friends and family?
Thankfully, Jihyo instead began to inform Nayeon about the young idol she was apparently going to be “mentoring”.
Her name was Minatozaki Sana, 23 years old. The same age Nayeon had been when she skipped town. JYPE had originally planned on debuting her in a group— the fourth member of a since-debuted group named SMC— but they’d ultimately decided she would be more successful as a solo act. Apparently the company had been right about that— even though Sana had only debuted two years ago, she had already developed a large fanbase and had won multiple rookie awards.
Nayeon wasn’t even really sure where she fit into this picture. This Sana girl seemed to have everything going for her— what could Nayeon, someone who now must be considered a has-been, do for her? Jihyo didn’t go into great detail about the situation, only that she worried Sana was “having a tough time with it all” and that the younger idol might benefit from being around someone who “could relate”.
So basically, what Nayeon was getting from all of this was that she was supposed to be this girl’s personal cheerleader or something. Hold her hand, tell her everything was going to be okay, that she was talented and special and above all, so, so lucky to be the nation’s sweetheart.
What bullshit.
She didn’t notice that they had pulled up to her new apartment until Jihyo touched her shoulder, making Nayeon jump. Jihyo retracted her hand, that same kicked-puppy wounded expression on her face, and said lightly, “We’re here.”
As they climbed out of the van, Nayeon surveyed the exterior of the apartment. It was certainly expensive-looking— although Nayeon resented the idea of the company paying for anything of hers, she could at least find satisfaction in the fact that her rent each month would make a decent dent in their profits. It seemed secluded enough, too, that Nayeon wouldn’t have to worry about prying neighbors.
Jihyo once again assisted her in unloading her luggage, waving away the driver who offered to help. She led the way up the walkway, unlocking the gate with a key she then handed over to Nayeon.
The interior of the apartment was unsurprisingly sparsely decorated. There was basic furniture in the rooms— a couch, a TV, tables, chairs, a bed— but otherwise it was plain and empty. Lifeless.
“We can go shopping, if you want,” Jihyo offered as Nayeon inspected the apartment. “I know it’s pretty bare bones in here.”
“No need,” Nayeon replied shortly, turning around to face Jihyo again with her arms folded. “I’m only going to be here a few months, so there’s no point.”
Another sigh and shrug from Jihyo while Nayeon walked over to the sliding glass door that led to a small balcony.
There was silence, and then, all of a sudden: “Are you planning on reaching out to Jeongyeon? I told her you were coming back.”
Nayeon hoped Jihyo didn’t notice the way her shoulders tensed at the name. “So much for only telling the people I want to know that I’m here,” she commented coldly, trying to fight the sudden panic crawling up her throat.
“You really thought I was going to keep this from her?” Nayeon didn’t turn around to meet Jihyo’s gaze, but she could tell she was furious from her voice. “God, Nayeon, were you just planning on, what— avoiding her forever? After everything you did to her? You need to-”
“Don’t tell me what I need to do,” Nayeon interrupted, barely controlling the volume of her own voice. “I don’t need to meet with her, or talk to her. There’s nothing to say. Besides, you know that I came here as a favor to you. You don’t get to ask me for any more.”
A short silence, then she heard Jihyo release a scoff of disbelief. “Right, Nayeon. That’s why you came here,” she agreed, having the nerve to sound disgusted as if this was all Nayeon’s idea. “I guess I’ll leave you to get settled, then. You’ll have your own car starting early next week, but for Monday morning, I’ll send a driver to bring you to the company. 8 am sharp.” Jihyo’s voice had turned cold and impersonally business-like. It made something deep in Nayeon’s chest ache, but she pushed the feeling aside.
The younger woman’s footsteps approached the door, then hesitated. “I’ve missed you so much, Nayeonie. Jeongyeon and I have missed you. We’re happy to have you back home, where you belong.” The front door opened and closed.
Nayeon gazed out the glass slider at the city skyline, standing very still and swallowing back the lump in her throat.
———
Shortly after Jihyo left, Nayeon ventured out of her new apartment to find something to sate her growling stomach. She’d glimpsed a small hole-in-the-wall convenience store within walking distance on the drive in, so that was the direction she headed.
She hated having to still cover herself head to toe whenever she went out in order to avoid being recognized. It’d been years since she’d last been in Korea, but Nayeon knew the public’s memory of her wouldn’t fade that fast no matter how much she wanted it to. That was one of her favorite things about Los Angeles— the anonymity of it all. She could walk down those streets without a mask on and no one would bother her unless they were trying to sell her something. Everyone was trying to be somebody there, but she’d quickly found it easy to blend right in. (It’d been a blessing in disguise that she’d never had much success in the American market during her former career.)
Reaching the convenience store, Nayeon was unsurprised yet still disappointed that they didn’t stock any of the American snacks she had become addicted to during her time in the U.S. Instead she settled on buying some fruit, bread, jellies, and a (annoyingly overpriced) jar of peanut butter. A meal for champions, she mused internally.
Once back “home” (though she refused to think of it as such), she settled on her couch with an apple and pulled up Netflix on the TV. She put on the next episode of the American drama she’d been binging lately, though her wandering mind prevented her from absorbing anything she watched.
It only took a couple hours for her to pass out on the couch, her exhaustion from a long day of travel finally catching up with her.
She dreamt that she was standing outside her parents’ house. It looked slightly different in the way things often did in dreams, but she knew it was her parents’ house nonetheless. She was pounding her fists bloody against the front door, begging for them to let her in, but no matter how much she screamed and cried and told them she was sorry, they wouldn’t open up. The worst part was that she could sense their presence right inside— could sense their anger and disgust, their hatred, radiating through the door, along with a message: “Why didn’t you just stay gone?”
Nayeon woke up with a jolt, wincing at the new kink she’d developed in her neck due to the position she’d fallen asleep in. She reached for her phone with bleary eyes, the screen telling her that it was past 2 am. The TV was still on, the black Netflix screen inquiring, “Are you still watching ‘Gossip Girl’?”
Still half-asleep, she fumbled for the remote to shut the TV off. She must have pressed the wrong button however, as instead of shutting off, the screen switched to the local news channel.
Nayeon froze, her finger hovering over the power button that she suddenly couldn’t bear to press. She didn’t know what it was— it was just a rerun of the weather report, for God’s sake— but something about it, the familiarity maybe, made Nayeon start to cry. While earlier she had been able to suppress her tears, now it was as if a dam had broken. Slumping over with her palms pressed against her eyes, Nayeon gave in to the shaking sobs that wracked her body.
Now fully awake, after a few minutes she forced herself to stay perfectly still, swallowing back the sobs that bubbled up. She refused to cry anymore about this whole thing— she had made the choice to come back, and now she had to live with that choice. Getting up from the couch, she brought herself to bed, curling up in the expensive silk sheets JYPE had bought for her.
No more tears, she swore to herself.
—————————
Sana awoke to the sound of Why Not by LOONA blaring from her phone. Groaning, she reached out a hand blindly to see who was calling her so early on a Sunday morning. When she finally peeked her eyes open to check the caller ID, she wasn’t all that surprised— who else would be calling her this early on the weekend?
“Morning, Jihyo,” Sana mumbled once she had answered the call. She lifted herself up in bed, rubbing the sleep from her eyes.
“Hey. Sorry, did I wake you up?” her manager asked on the other end of the line, sounding distracted.
Sana glanced at the digital clock on her nightstand, surprised that it wasn’t as early as she’d guessed— it was already past 10 am. Typically it was unusual for her to sleep this late, even on her days off, but since she’d been working hard preparing for her comeback she’d been stealing every minute of sleep she could get. Still, Jihyo didn’t have to know that she’d been so lazy this morning.
“No, I was awake. What’s up?” Sana suppressed a yawn.
Jihyo hummed critically, clearly not believing her, but continued, “I have some important news I wanted to share. A surprise, actually, that I’ll think you’ll like.”
The younger idol perked up at that. “Wait, did the bosses finally agree to allow me to have a puppy in the dorm?” she asked, unable to hide her excitement.
A laugh on the other end of the call. “Sorry, but that’s still a firm no.” Jihyo cleared her throat, ignoring Sana’s whines of disappointment. “Anyway, remember how at the last company meeting we discussed bringing in a mentor for you? Since this’ll be your first time promoting an album since your debut and everything?”
Sana hesitated before replying, “Yeah, I remember.”
She hadn’t been sure how to feel when Jihyo and the higher ups informed her that they were looking for a “mentor” for her. Although they claimed that they just wanted someone who knew the ins and outs of the industry to give Sana advice and make sure she was on the right track, Sana was worried that this meant the company didn’t trust her. Jihyo had assured her this wasn’t the case though, so Sana guessed it must have something to do with the fact that JYPE didn’t exactly have the best track record with their soloists in the past.
“Well, the person we were looking at finally got back to us. I met with her last night, actually, and we’ve scheduled for you to meet tomorrow morning at the company. She’s… she’s really excited to meet you, and I know for a fact she’s an idol you’ve always wanted to meet, too,” Jihyo hinted. “It’ll be good. Really good.” (Distracted, Sana didn’t pick up on the fact that her manager sounded like she was trying to convince herself rather than Sana.)
Someone she’s always wanted to meet? The first face that flashed across her mind, on pure impulse, was Im Nayeon— Sana’s hero since she was a teenager, the singer that made her dream of becoming an idol in the first place. Obviously that thought was immediately dismissed, though, considering the fact that Nayeon hadn’t been seen or heard from in four years (aka the reason why JYPE didn’t have a great soloist track record).
“Is it Sunmi? Please tell me it’s Sunmi!” Sana guessed instead, the excitement causing her to involuntarily bounce in place.
“Just wait and see,” was all that Jihyo cryptically replied. Her manager proceeded to ask Sana a few questions about her plans for the day and if she was going to go to the practice room at the company later, but Sana was barely paying attention to what she said.
As soon as the call ended, she immediately texted her two best friends in all caps: “GUESS WHOSE MYSTERY CELEBRITY MENTOR IS PROBABLY GONNA BE LEE SUNMI!!!!!!!!!!”
mitang [10:34 AM]: “whatever you’re dreaming about… enjoy dreaming about it, really”
momoring [10:35 AM]: “OMG NO WAY.. get her autograph for me PLSSSS!! if you don’t then i’ll pretend i don’t know you whenever i see you at the company <3”
mitang [10:35 AM]: “you already do that anyway lol”
Sana tossed her phone aside on the bed and leaned back into her pillows, grinning. Things were looking up!