Chapter Text
It always starts with the touch of the other person.
A hand reaching across the bed to feel her. Pull her warm body into theirs.
That’s when she jolts up from the bed on which she was just laying. Half-exhausted. Half-exasperated.
She sits up, the unmistakeable smell of sex hitting her like the sudden realization of what had just transpired a mere few seconds ago.
She turns away from the other person on the bed, feeling their eyes dig holes on her back. Not that she cares.
Not that she ever cared.
It was always, “Sana-ssi, is everything okay?” or “Did I do something wrong?”
And as much as she wanted to say, yes, yes, everything is fucking wrong and I can’t do anything about it, she just shakes her head as she puts on the silk robe she has stowed nearby for times like these and tells them, “I think it’s best you leave.”
Then she finds herself on the balcony of her apartment complex. High up on the 37th floor overlooking the entire Yongsan district. A cigarette resting between her fingers, ready to be lit up and fill the emptiness in her chest.
It’s cold out, as it always is past midnight. Less alive too. Sometimes she’d see neighbours doing the exact same thing as she was, but most times it was just always her alone.
Alone with only the presence of the moon accompanying her.
That fucking moon.
It always made her heart clench. The closest thing she could get to feeling something.
“Hey,” a voice cuts through the wind. Deep. Rough around the edges. Every bit as different as the one voice that she yearns to hear.
She hears his footsteps coming near her. Anticipates the touch on her arm as he bids her goodbye. “I’ll be going now,” they’ll say. Out of politeness. Or maybe out of a slight plea not to be kicked out.
Again, she doesn’t care.
She gives something akin to a hum, not bothering to look behind her. He tries to give her a kiss, somewhere, anywhere. But she turns her entire body away, slightly pissed at the contact. The fucking nerve.
She didn’t know him.
Probably another name in the industry, who gives a flying fuck?
And then, a scoff.
“So the rumours are true,” he makes another attempt to gain her attention. She has to admit that it did. “You are cold behind the cameras.”
She takes a drag of her thin cigarette. Esse – it’s what she prefers. Then without sparing him a glance still, she speaks to him for maybe the third time in that entire night. “Please leave the balcony door open on your way out.”
She pictures him fumbling with something and then giving up eventually. It’s fruitless. Sana applauds them for getting the hint.
And when she hears the click signifying her front door closing, she lets her head hang low.
Lets herself think of her again.
That bright smile that she once called her vitamin. The hands that always played with her hair when she wasn’t feeling her best. Her kisses that made her mind go blank and her heart turn over and over and over –
The hurt in her entire being pooling in the depths of her watery eyes. The desperation in the last hug that she engulfed her in as she begged her not to do it. The bitterness in the last kiss that they shared because, god, god knows neither of them wanted it.
But Sana just couldn’t. She had unknowingly dug up her own grave when she followed her so-called dreams and went smack into the limelight without knowing what it entailed.
•••
“You can’t be in a relationship, let alone a woman!” The higher ups shouted at her when word first got out. She had been with her for half a decade then. As friends, even longer than that.
But Dahyun, her poor, innocent Dahyun, was but a commoner. In their eyes at least.
A hindrance, was what she felt they wanted to say.
“End this,” they gave the ultimatum. Was it still that if she was backed up against the wall? “Or end the career you barely just started. Your clock is ticking.”
She didn’t, though. They could fuck themselves if they wanted, Sana once thought. She wasn’t giving up on their relationship.
She was her life buoy. Her life source. And to take that away would mean losing her world despite having everything.
But then the malicious ones found out as well. Followed them all the way home without their knowing. Took it as an opportunity of their lifetime and waved the evidence in her face.
Made more than one life suffer at their feet.
Camera flashes and the sound of scurrying feet felt like cold water being poured on her.
The sneers that she got from the company when they paid a huge sum for their silence.
The threats of that incidence being the last time that they would do her a favour.
“I told you to end it,” they said. “Now look at the mess you made.”
If anyone asked, it was the fear that opened her eyes.
So she broke her; broke them.
She has been breaking her own self since.
•••
The night was beginning to grow colder than it already was. A bite on her skin she couldn’t quite shake off.
She was glad she had the smoke filling the back of her throat down to her lungs to warm her then.
•••
“I’ll fight for us as long as you want,” she begged on her knees. Her grip on Sana’s hands tighter than the constriction around her own windpipe. “I won’t mind everything they throw in our way. I’m strong enough to lift both of us jebal,” she choked. “– please believe me. Please.”
She looked everywhere else except her. She didn’t think she could stomach it.
Her Dahyun, her sweet, sweet Dahyun, was begging her. Practically ready to strip herself of her own dignity if it meant not getting left behind.
Sana couldn’t have that.
Not wanting her to remain in that state any longer, she pulled Dahyun up by her hands to get her on her feet.
But Dahyun had other plans.
Flimsy arms wrapped around her waist tightly. Buried her face in her chest. The younger woman’s tears staining her thousand-dollar top. “Please, Sana,” she had whimpered that night in the bedroom that they once shared. Every inch a witness to their love and hurt. “Sana-chan, saranghamnida, please don’t do this to us.”
Sana clenched her jaw tight. She wanted to make it stop. Please make it all stop.
She found the strength to reach forward. Held her smaller hands in hers. Brought them to her chapped lips, eyes shut tight.
Her hands had always been so soft and smooth and baby-like. They were the very hands that held Sana tight when she was close to falling apart.
But she couldn’t hold onto them any longer like they were her own anchor lest she pull them both down with her.
She lowered them soon after. Closed the gap between their faces.
Trembling lips against trembling lips.
A sense of urgency against utmost defeat.
It was her only way of not letting Dahyun see the doubts and regrets she was having.
She was the first to pull away. Of course it had to be her. Then she stared at her lover. Made sure to ingrain the look in her face in the very back of her mind when she did. There was a slight twinge of hope, she observed.
It took every fiber of her being not to give in right there when she saw the glimmer in Dahyun’s eyes.
But in return, she gave a pained smile. And finally, finally, whispered the words that she thought would free the other.
“I don’t have any fight left in me, Dahyun-chan.”
•••
Sana pulls out another cigarette. Shakily. Was she planning to burn through the pack?
It’s not like she cared.
An inner voice said: but she would.
She puts the stick between her parched lips. Inhales until she feels a slight burn. Lets out the smoke through pursed lips and watches it add colour to the dark sky. Slowly but surely before completely diffusing into the air.
Then she lets the self-disgust eat up her insides.
•••
The first time it happened, she had just received a major year-end award.
From beyond the stage, they captured the smiles, the tears of joy. Or so she allowed them to perceive.
But behind the curtains, her heart broke into a million pieces because the one thing that she wanted to do, she couldn’t.
She could almost hear her voice saying sweet nothings and words of congratulations and glee and chukhahae nae sarang for achieving such a milestone.
Back then, it had been just — what, half a year? Maybe even more? – since she ended things and walked away.
And the pain… The pain still felt as raw as it did that night. Like a blunt knife stuck in her midgut being twisted at the vaguest memory.
She wondered if she had watched the live broadcast and was dying just as much to call her too.
But there were no calls. None from either party.
What would they say after, anyway?
(She knew. I miss you. I want you back. Come back to me. But what good would it do?)
So she let loose at the after-party. Convincing smiles. Hearty laughs. Look genuine and act genuine. The hawks are watching.
Got to know whoever without really getting to know them. No one charming enough to really catch her eye.
All except one.
He was a senior of hers. No introductions needed.
He was dapper. A smooth talker. Most definitely pleasing to the eye. And it’s highly likely that she herself had fawned over his bad boy character in that famous music school show of his before.
You know, the good ol’ het days.
And with the high of her win plus the adrenaline that came with liveliness of the night, the excitement likewise coursed through her veins as he poured all his attention on her. Looked at her and made her feel wanted. Never once let her go the entire night.
Fact of the matter is this: it all reminded her of someone. The very same someone she still wished would call her that night.
How selfish of her.
But, god, every second that passed without hearing her voice and declarations of love or just seeing her felt like she was living in her own personal hell.
She missed Dahyun. Painfully so. It was as simple as that.
So for Sana who was in need of something, anything, that was remotely close to what Dahyun had once given her —
“Okay,” she acceded.
•••
Later that night when she told him to leave (okay, more like kicked out), Sana, with the panic and, somehow, guilt, sat in front of the toilet and puked her guts out. The rancid substance burning her throat in the same way that the tears burned her eyes.
It all hurt. From her womanhood to the back of her throat to her heart. Everything hurt.
She should have realized the moment he kissed her that he was nothing close to the one person her heart wanted.
•••
She puts out the last cigarette she was burning through.
She feels herself craving for another. Feels a certain thirst.
Then she remembers the bottle of wine that Jihyo left in her apartment.
The rest was history.
•••
But you see, the thing about physical touch as a love language is that it needs to be sated.
Though it was her first and last time with him, she found herself succumbing to that need every now and then. Especially on days that the hole that her lover left with felt emptier than usual.
So she mingled. Dated around. Mostly men, some women (only secretly, though she knew that her own fans assumed just as much). Came back home with some. Kicked them out as soon as they tried something more than what she’d bargained for.
The conditions were simple: they fool around and forget anything happened after.
(There was a third, unspoken condition; one that she wasn’t too keen on sharing with any of them: none of them should remotely resemble one Kim Dahyun.)
Some gave gifts after. The more heinous ones, upon hearing of stories from the kiss-and-tells who broke her second condition, came up to her with offers of material things.
Or, say, a career boost. To which she gave nothing less than refusal. As politely as she could.
She thought maybe it was her dignity speaking. What was left of it at least.
And try as they might to come back to her, she stood her ground and barely batted an eye.
She didn’t even remember at least half of those people.
All that mattered was the satiety that she tricked herself into thinking was enough for her to be able to get by. To move on with her life.
And through that, the show went on.
Sana felt like she just sold her soul to the devil but at least the show went on.
•••
There are nights when the pain became more unbearable for her. Walls caving in from all angles. She thinks there’s no way out.
•••
It was one of those nights when she thought of breaking her own conditions.
The thing is… she was nice, beautiful by anyone’s standards. Soft-spoken. Funny enough.
She was, in more ways than one, extremely similar to Dahyun.
The fact enthralled her, and it allowed herself to fantasize about her past life, her past love.
So she called the shots and took her home.
And unsurprisingly enough, everything about her was sweet and gentle. From her kisses to her touches to how she constantly checked on her as she moved on top of her. Touched every inch of her skin she could cover.
In her mind’s eye, she saw her.
And by seeing her, she got intoxicated.
So when she reached her satisfying climax after that pleasant ride, she uttered a name.
A name that wasn’t the woman’s.
“Who’s Dahyun?” she suddenly asked, taken aback, suddenly stopping all movements.
That properly snapped her out of her reverie.
She opened her eyes, felt the words get stuck in her throat, as she saw the woman for who she was.
For who she really was.
And then it dawned on her that she was nothing like Dahyun.
Her eyes were wider.
Dahyun would never make that expression.
Dahyun would have had her hand running through her hair as soon as she saw something was wrong.
“Sana-ssi?”
Dahyun would have called her Sana-chan. Or Sana-unnie.
It sounded so wrong. It was all wrong. Her whole life was wrong.
As calmly as she could, she asked the woman to leave. When she didn’t, Sana had no choice but to snap. She made a mental note to apologize profusely in the future.
Why she chose to go against her conditions, she did not know.
Look where it got you, you pabo.
And as such, that very night pushed her over the edge into calling her.
Dahyun, the screen said simply.
Before, it used to be a nickname.
(Unnie, she whined. Why did you save my number like that?
Isn’t it true, though? she retorted as she looked at what she had cleverly come up with: sesangeso gajang gwiyeoun dubu. The cutest tofu in the world.)
The heightened state of anxiety was even worse with each ring that went by unanswered.
Her hands shook, barely able to hold onto her device any longer.
Until —
“Y-yeoboseyo?” The person on the other end asked tentatively.
Sana’s mouth ran dry. Was she really hearing her? For the first time again in a long while?
She heard a gulp. A shaky breath failed to be hidden. “Sana, is that you?”
Sana’s face contorted. A sob coming out involuntarily.
She was clearly heard. It was evident in the panic in Dahyun’s voice. “Eodiya? Where are you? Are you safe? Is everything okay?”
Despite herself, Sana felt herself smiling. “De,” she managed to whisper. “Just… I honestly don’t know why I called. Mianhae…”
There was a pause. “Gwaenchanhayo. It’s fine,” Dahyun replied with haste. And then there was nothing.
They were still on the line, just listening to each other breathing. Sana couldn’t bring herself to ask her about her day, hell, her life, because that would just be too fucking unfair of her.
And the last thing she wanted was to be hated by Dahyun.
At least in that way, she knew that she still had her. Somehow.
She felt the bile rising up to her throat at the realization that she was still hopelessly in love with her, still yearning for her comfort despite everything. She felt sick with the realization of how terribly selfish she was.
But just when she was about to bid her goodbye, Dahyun, her sweet, sweet Dahyun, said something that would stick with her like a loose thorn for the rest of her life.
“I’ll be here on this line until you feel better.”
So began the waterfalls.
Sana cried harder than she ever did since she walked out. Harder than the first night she gave up her dignity.
Cried and cried, all curled up next to her queen-sized bed in that too-big-too-expensive apartment, until she didn’t anymore.
That was the last time she recalled talking to Dahyun.
•••
She didn’t realize she was already crying until she nearly dropped the glass of wine that she was holding.
How have you been, Dahyunnie?
She doesn’t know how long it’s been exactly. She just knows that it’s been too long.
Yet here she is, still stuck in that misery that she put herself in.
Everything around her, everything that she has is nothing but a constant reminder of what she sacrificed. What she lost and will never go back to.
What she is now.
•••
“This isn’t you anymore,” her manager and best friend, Park Jihyo, told her sadly perhaps just a night ago as she eyed the apartment and saw a misplaced article of clothing that was clearly not hers.
She couldn’t blame her; she does have the right to comment like that.
After all, she knew the Sana that once was before all this happened. The pre-debut Sana. The Commoner Sana when there was still Commoner Dahyun.
They were hanging out in her apartment then. Just the two of them having their occasional, non-work-related heart-to-heart. It was only Jihyo who saw the real her behind the prying eyes. The real her who didn’t have to put up a front lest she puts herself on trial again in front of the higher-ups.
“I know,” she replied blankly, staring at the wine glass in her hand as she swirled it about.
•••
Sighing, Sana tried to pluck out another stick from carton.
But there was none.
She flipped the box over, tried tapping it on her hand as if something would miraculously slide out.
“Aish,” she curses. Tonight of all night, really?
Sighing, she poured the contents of the expensive wine absentmindedly and headed straight to the bathroom.
I need a new stash of smoke. Maybe another bottle of wine.
In a few minutes, the stench of sex won’t be there anymore, but she believes that the rot of her decaying soul will persist.
•••
“Fuck.” She had just lit her new cigarette when it started pouring.
It’s almost 4AM and she’s all alone outside the convenience store with a shit excuse for a disguise and a bottle of vodka on one hand. Any time now, people other than the underpaid cashier who was too tired to eye her could wake up and see Sana for who she really is.
Her eyes try to scan the distance between where she is and the entrance to her apartment complex.
Bargains: maybe she can run?
But eventually, she comes to the conclusion that it’s no use since it takes more than a few blocks and the last thing she wants is to catch anyone’s attention.
A mad woman running in the rain with an unopened vodka bottle hardly achieves the ‘not catching people’s attention’ part.
She heaves a sigh once more. Groans in frustration. The rain is unrelenting. She’s fucking stuck. Why the fuck did she not bring a fucking umbrella with her?
A brilliant thought comes to her. She fishes her phone out of her pocket. Maybe Jihyo can come for her? She presses 1 (she’s on speed dial). Lets it ring, and so it does.
But it’s all that it ever does.
A pop-up notification suddenly flashes: 5% remaining.
Sana wants nothing more but to smack herself in the head. Let the earth swallow her whole, who cares?
She finds herself bargaining again: she could book herself a cab. But between the now and the time it arrives, her phone will have died on her, and that would entail missing the driver.
Or.
Or she could make one more phone call. One last to make it count.
She goes for the second option.
She quickly scrolls through her numerous contacts. Tries to look for anyone she can trust enough to wake up in the middle of the night for her and be her saviour.
Almost through, and so far she finds none. All these names, these connections that came with her fame, yet not one of them meant shit to her at this very moment. Superficiality at its finest.
Then she reaches a name. Her name. She freezes momentarily. Contemplates on what she’s doing.
Why the fuck do you still have her number?
Again she weighs her options: she can still run for it.
Or maybe, maybe. Just this once she can ask her — hell, the universe — for a favour.
So fucking selfish.
She taps on the call button. It immediately begins ringing.
And just like that night from years ago, her heart goes into overdrive as she waits.
They say you spend most of your life waiting. 24 hours in every day of your sorry excuse for a life spent… not really spending it well. She’d say it’s a waste of precious time, and maybe it is.
But now, at this very moment, the wait is crucial. She’s all alone and she’s freezing from the cold, and while a part of her believes that she deserves everything that’s happening to her, the self-preserving part still wants to be saved.
By a specific person, no less.
Fuck, she doesn’t even know if it’s still her number.
The tears begin burning hotly at the back of her eyes. She feels so pathetic right now, holding onto the tiniest sliver of hope that she can come on her white horse to save the damsel in distress from herself.
But maybe whoever has been watching her has the tiniest bit of pity left for her.
She picks up. A sleepy voice comes through. “Yeoboseyo?”
The tears fall from eyes at the sound. She so badly wants to breakdown in the middle of the fucking road because, christ, she answered.
But the bite of the cold was getting to her. “Hey,” she pathetically begins through chattering teeth. “It’s me.”
She hears scrambling on the other end of the line. “Sana?” Doesn’t miss the surprise in her tone. “Are you okay? Where are you? Why are you calling at this hour?”
She sniffs. Smiles through her tears. Even after all this time, the first instinct that she has for her is borne out of pure concern. “Dahyun-ah,” she says weakly.
Doubt halts her for a moment. There’s that voice again.
This. This is why you can’t have nice things. You’re so goddamn selfish that you ruin everyone who comes your way.
“Sana?” Dahyun’s voice is one of worry and apprehension.
She reels, now overcome with the guilt that washes over her like a wave. “I-I,” she stutters. “Never-never mind—”
But before she can finish, lightning flashes in the distance. And then, a clap of thunder. She yelps in surprise, closes her eyes as if that would magically make her fear go away.
“Sana?!” Now it’s laced with panic.
Sana steadies her breathing. It’s now or never. “Dahyun-ah,” she says her name like a prayer. “Please come.”
•••
It’s been about 20 minutes since the call had ended. 10 since her phone died on her. The downpour is still a bitch, but at least the streets are still empty.
Thank fuck for that, she thinks as she takes a swig of the alcohol.
She hopes it’s enough to drown her senses for when Dahyun arrives. Or for when she doesn’t. She can’t really blame her if she doesn’t.
But, fuck, just thinking about the second one sends a massive jolt of pain across her chest.
She takes another swig.
A blinding light rounds the corner. Moves slowly in the rain like it’s looking for something and then pauses.
Sana looks at it. She believes whoever is inside is looking right back.
The vehicle begins moving again, this time closer to the sidewalk on which she’s slumped. Stops a few meters in front of her.
And out comes her saviour clothed in the brightest light.
Sana’s world stills for a moment. Hears only the ringing in her ears. Eyes set on the vision in front of her.
She rushes to her side with a huge umbrella; her eyebrows upturned in utter concern. Squats down in front of Sana, places a hand on her cheek. Her mouth moves just enough for Sana to make out the question. “Gwaenchanhayo?”
Sana can only stare. Then she feels herself easing into the hand that is palming her cheek. Feels herself getting hoisted up by said person and being led towards her car. One hand on the small of her back, another on the umbrella that she makes sure is enough to keep her dry.
Then Sana is sitting in the comforts of her vehicle. Dry. Warm. Just like its owner. Who, by the way, enters at the same time through the other door.
She reaches over, pulling the seatbelt to secure it for her. “Where do you live?” she asks, not daring to make eye contact with her.
Sana, who has been tongue-tied the whole time, now places her own hand on the other woman’s cheek. Now It’s her turn to freeze up. The air stills between them as she keeps her hands on the seatbelt.
“I don’t want to go home,” Sana mutters. “Take me home with you, Dahyun-ah. Jebal.”