Chapter Text
The IVE dorm was unusually quiet for a place that was rarely still.
Even the city outside seemed to hold its breath.
An Yujin sat on the edge of her bed, shoulders hunched, fingers curled into the fabric of her hoodie as if anchoring herself to something solid. Her breathing was shallow, measured, careful. Each inhale felt like it scraped against something sharp inside her chest, like thorns growing where lungs should be.
She told herself it was exhaustion.
She always did.
Across the room, Kim Gaeul watched her with a frown she hadn’t bothered hiding anymore.
“You’re doing it again” Gaeul said softly.
Yujin blinked “Doing what?”
“Breathing like you’re afraid it’ll hurt”
Yujin laughed, quick and dismissive. Too quick. “You’re imagining things”
Gaeul didn’t laugh back.
From the living room, Rei’s quiet hum drifted in, Liz and Leeseo murmuring over something on the couch, mundane sounds that should have felt comforting. Instead, they felt distant, like life happening on the other side of glass.
Gaeul crossed the room and crouched in front of Yujin, resting her elbows on her knees. “Yujin” she said, using the tone that meant she wasn’t letting this go “How long has it been?”
Yujin looked away.
“How long” Gaeul repeated, firmer now “have you been feeling like this?”
“…A while.”
“That’s not an answer”
Yujin swallowed. It burned “A few months”
Gaeul’s jaw tightened “And you didn’t think to tell anyone?”
Yujin shrugged weakly “I didn’t want to worry you”
“You’re worrying me now”
Another breath, shorter this time. Yujin pressed a hand to her chest, fingers trembling just slightly before she forced them still.
Gaeul noticed.
She always noticed.
“You need to see a doctor” Gaeul said.
Yujin shook her head immediately. “No. It’s nothing serious. Probably stress or—”
“Yujin”
That stopped her.
Gaeul rarely interrupted her. When she did, it meant she was scared.
“You can barely catch your breath” Gaeul continued “You’ve been coughing. You get dizzy just standing up. This isn’t stress”
Yujin’s lips parted, then closed. She looked small sitting there, like the weight of her own body was too much to carry.
“…I’ll be fine” she whispered.
Gaeul’s voice softened “You don’t have to be strong all the time”
Yujin laughed again, but this time it cracked halfway through. “I kind of do”
Silence settled between them.
Then Gaeul said the thing she’d been holding back for weeks.
“Is it about Wonyoung?”
Yujin froze.
The name sat between them, fragile and dangerous.
From the hallway, Wonyoung’s laughter floated in, light, bright, effortless. It pierced straight through Yujin’s chest, sharp enough that she had to bend forward, coughing into her sleeve.
Gaeul was on her feet instantly “Yujin—”
“I’m okay” Yujin gasped, though it was clearly a lie.
When the coughing finally stopped, she stared at the damp fabric in her hand.
There was nothing there.
No blood. No petals.
Not yet.
“I’m not… sick because of her” Yujin said quietly.
Gaeul didn’t argue. She just said, “But you’re hurting because of her”
Yujin closed her eyes.
She had loved Wonyoung quietly, carefully, like holding something precious with hands that were afraid to shake. She had loved her in shared glances across practice rooms, in late-night conversations that never crossed a line, in the way her heart lifted whenever Wonyoung smiled at her like she was home.
She had loved her without ever being loved back.
“I can’t tell her” Yujin said. “If I do, everything breaks”
Gaeul knelt again, resting a hand over Yujin’s “Or maybe it stops hurting”
Yujin shook her head, tears slipping free despite her effort “What if she looks at me differently? What if she pities me?”
“What if she understands?” Gaeul countered gently.
“And what if she doesn’t?” Yujin whispered.
That was the question neither of them could answer.
Gaeul squeezed her hand “At least let a doctor answer the other questions. Please”
Yujin hesitated.
Then another wave of dizziness hit, stronger than before, stealing the color from the room.
That decided it.
The hospital smelled like antiseptic and quiet fear.
Yujin sat stiffly on the examination bed, fingers clenched together as the doctor reviewed her scans with a crease between his brows.
Gaeul stood beside her, arms crossed tight, eyes flicking between Yujin and the screen.
Finally, the doctor turned.
“An Yujin” he said carefully “have you been in love?”
Yujin blinked.
“…What?”
Gaeul’s breath hitched.
The doctor sighed “You’re showing early signs of hanahaki disease”
The words felt unreal, like something out of a story Yujin had once heard and never believed.
“No” she said immediately “That’s not possible. I haven’t—”
“Petals don’t always form immediately” the doctor explained “In some patients, it starts as respiratory weakness. Chest pain. Difficulty breathing”
Yujin’s hands began to shake.
“There are treatments” the doctor continued. “Confession. Acceptance. Or surgery.”
Gaeul swallowed hard. “The surgery…”
The doctor’s expression darkened. “Ninety percent of patients who undergo it suffer severe neurological damage. Many enter a vegetative state.”
The room tilted.
Yujin felt hollow.
Gaeul reached for her, gripping her arm tightly “You’re not doing the surgery” she said, voice fierce “You hear me?”
Yujin didn’t respond.
All she could think about was Wonyoung’s smile.
And the possibility that loving her—truly loving her—might be the thing that finally killed her.
That night, back at the dorm, Yujin stood outside Wonyoung’s door.
Her chest ached.
Her lungs burned.
Behind the door, Wonyoung was alive and warm and unaware.
Gaeul stood a few steps away, watching.
“You don’t have to say it tonight” Gaeul whispered.
Yujin raised her hand.
It hovered in the air.
And then—
She lowered it.
“I’m not ready” she said, voice breaking.
Gaeul nodded, even as her eyes filled with tears.
Neither of them knew how much time Yujin had left.
Only that the petals were coming.
The dorm was dark except for the faint glow of the kitchen light.
An Yujin sat at the dining table, hands wrapped around a mug she hadn’t taken a sip from. The tea had gone cold a long time ago. Her breathing was shallow again—not enough to alarm anyone passing by, but enough that she felt it with every second that dragged on.
Kim Gaeul leaned against the counter across from her, arms folded, eyes sharp with worry.
Neither of them spoke at first.
Then Gaeul broke the silence.
“You can’t keep doing this to yourself”
Yujin let out a weak breath that almost sounded like a laugh. “I’m not”
“Yes, you are” Gaeul pushed herself off the counter and sat down across from her “You’re choosing to hurt alone”
Yujin stared into the mug “It’s better that way”
Gaeul shook her head. “No. It’s just quieter”
That hit too close.
Yujin’s fingers tightened around the ceramic. “You want me to tell her everything” she said softly “About the disease. About… all of it”
“Yes”
“I can’t”
Gaeul leaned forward. “Why?”
Yujin finally looked up. Her eyes were tired, older than they should’ve been.
“Because if I tell Wonyoung” she said, voice trembling just slightly “she won’t have a choice”
Gaeul frowned “That’s not—”
“She will” Yujin interrupted “She’ll feel guilty. She’ll feel responsible. She’ll think she has to love me back just to save me”
Her voice cracked.
“And if she does… that won’t be love. That’ll be obligation”
The words fell heavy between them.
Gaeul opened her mouth, then closed it again.
“I don’t want her to stay with me because she’s afraid of what happens if she doesn’t” Yujin continued “I don’t want her to look at me and think I caused this. That’s not fair to her”
Her hand moved unconsciously to her chest.
“I would rather disappear quietly than chain her happiness to my survival”
Gaeul’s eyes burned.
“You’re an idiot” she whispered, voice shaking “A selfless, stupid idiot”
Yujin smiled faintly “I’ve been called worse”
Gaeul exhaled sharply, pressing her palms against the table “Fine. Don’t tell her about the disease”
Yujin blinked “What?”
“But you will tell her how you feel”
Yujin’s smile faded “Unnie—”
“Listen to me” Gaeul said firmly “You confess your feelings. Nothing else. No sickness. No consequences. Just the truth”
Yujin shook her head. “And if she rejects me?”
“Then she rejects you” Gaeul said, voice breaking “But at least it’s honest”
Silence stretched.
Yujin swallowed, throat tight “And if she accepts?”
Gaeul’s gaze softened. “Then she does so because she wants to. Not because she’s scared”
Yujin stared down at the table.
Confession meant risking everything.
Not confessing meant suffocating slowly.
“…There’s another problem” Yujin said quietly.
Gaeul straightened. “What?”
“We can’t just do this without telling the company”
That earned a bitter laugh from Gaeul. “Of course”
“They need to know about my condition” Yujin continued “The schedules. The risks. Everything”
Gaeul’s jaw clenched “But not Wonyoung”
Yujin nodded immediately “No matter what. She can’t know”
“Even if it gets worse?”
“Specially then”
Gaeul looked at her like she wanted to argue, but she didn’t.
Instead, she reached across the table and took Yujin’s hand.
“You’re really prepared to let her hate you if this goes wrong”
Yujin shook her head. “No”
A pause.
“I’m prepared to let her live without me if it means she gets to be happy”
Gaeul squeezed her hand hard “You shouldn’t have to be this brave alone”
Yujin managed a small smile “I’m not. I have you”
They sat there together, hands clasped, the weight of the future pressing down on them.
Somewhere down the hall, Wonyoung laughed again—carefree, unaware.
And for now, that was exactly how Yujin wanted it to stay.
Because the petals still hadn’t bloomed. She still have for now.
The conference room at Starship was too bright.
The lights hummed softly above them, an indifferent sound that made Yujin acutely aware of her own breathing. She sat upright at the long table, hands folded neatly in her lap, posture disciplined out of habit more than comfort. Every breath still felt shallow, but she refused to show it.
Gaeul sat beside her, close enough that their arms almost touched.
Across from them were the managers, faces carefully neutral, eyes sharp with calculation and concern. A tablet lay on the table, paused on medical reports Yujin wished she could unread.
The silence stretched.
Finally, one of the executives spoke. “Hanahaki disease is… not something we encounter often”
Yujin nodded once “I understand”
“You’re aware of the risks” another added “Progression can be unpredictable”
“I’m aware” Yujin said again, voice steady.
Gaeul’s fingers curled slightly against her knee. She stayed quiet, letting Yujin speak for herself.
The first executive leaned forward “There is one obvious course of action”
Yujin didn’t respond.
“You should tell Wonyoung”
Gaeul stiffened.
“No” Yujin said calmly.
The word landed heavier than raised voices ever could.
One of the managers frowned. “Yujin, this isn’t about pride. This is about your life”
Yujin lifted her gaze. “Exactly”
“If she knows” another said carefully, “there’s a chance the disease stops progressing”
Yujin’s jaw tightened “There’s also a chance she stays with me out of fear”
Silence fell again.
“She deserves a choice” Yujin continued “A real one. Not one made under the weight of my condition”
A manager exhaled slowly “And what if you collapse during promotions? What if the media finds out before she does?”
“Then that’s on me” Yujin replied “Not her”
Gaeul finally spoke “She’s not refusing responsibility. She’s refusing to weaponize her illness”
The word weaponize shifted the room.
One executive leaned back “You’re asking us to allow a confession under false pretenses”
Yujin shook her head “No. I’m asking to confess the truth of my feelings. Nothing more. Nothing less”
“And if Wonyoung accepts?”
Yujin didn’t hesitate “Then she accepts me—not because of my condition”
“And if she rejects you?”
Yujin swallowed. Her chest tightened, breath catching just for a second before she steadied herself.
“Then I’ll accept it” she said “And live with it”
The managers exchanged glances.
“You’re willing to risk your condition worsening” one said quietly.
Yujin nodded. “Yes”
Gaeul turned to look at her then, eyes shining but resolute. She didn’t interrupt. She knew this wasn’t something she could fight Yujin with.
It was something Yujin had already decided to lose for.
One executive tapped the tablet. “If this proceeds, there must be safeguards. Confidentiality. Absolute silence.”
Yujin leaned forward slightly. “Then put it in writing.”
That caught them off guard.
“I want it in contract” Yujin said “Stating that my medical condition will remain undisclosed to Jang Wonyoung under any circumstance, by the company, staff, or members”
Gaeul’s breath hitched softly.
“You want this legally signed?” a manager asked.
“Yes”
“And if you lose consciousness? If emergency disclosure is required?”
Yujin’s hands clenched briefly, then relaxed. “Even then, specially then”
The room felt colder.
“That’s extreme” someone muttered.
“So is forcing someone to love me out of pity” Yujin replied.
Another long silence.
Finally, one of the executives nodded. “If we agree to this, you will comply with all medical monitoring and adjust schedules as advised”
“I will”
“And you will inform us before you confess”
“Yes”
The tablet slid across the table toward her.
Gaeul watched as Yujin picked up the stylus. Her hand trembled just slightly—but not enough to stop.
With one steady motion, Yujin signed her name.
The contract was binding.
So was her choice.
As they stood to leave, Gaeul reached for her arm in the hallway.
“You really won’t tell her?” Gaeul said softly.
Yujin shook her head “I won’t”
“What if she asks why you look like you’re fading?”
Yujin smiled faintly “Then I’ll tell her I’m tired”
Gaeul’s throat tightened. “You’re being cruel to yourself”
Yujin glanced back toward the conference room door, toward the life she was quietly gambling.
“No” she said “I’m just choosing her”
The day Yujin told the company she was confessing, she could barely stand without feeling the room tilt.
Her lungs burned with every breath, shallow and tight, as if air itself had learned how to refuse her. She hid it well, years of training had taught her how to smile through pain, but Gaeul saw it in the way Yujin paused before speaking, in how her shoulders rose too high when she inhaled.
Still, Yujin’s voice was steady when she said it.
“I’m confessing to Wonyoung today”
The managers exchanged looks.
“You’re certain?” one asked.
Yujin nodded. “Yes”
They found no traces of hesitation on her face. They didn’t push her to tell Wonyoung about her illness. They decided to let her go.
The rooftop of the Starship building was quiet in a way that felt unreal.
The city stretched endlessly below them, lights blinking on one by one as evening crept in. The wind was gentle, cool against Yujin’s skin, carrying the faint scent of rain and concrete.
Wonyoung stood near the railing, arms folded loosely, hair catching the light as it moved.
She smiled when she saw Yujin.
“Hey, You said you need to tell me something important?”
Yujin swallowed.
Her chest hurt, not sharply, not yet, just a constant pressure, like something blooming where it shouldn’t.
“Yeah, it is” she said.
She took a step forward, then another, stopping a careful distance away. Not too close. She didn’t want to trap her.
“I like you” Yujin said simply “Not as a member. Not as a friend”
Wonyoung’s smile faltered.
“I like you as someone I want to be with”
The words felt lighter than they should have, as if they were floating away from her the moment she said them.
Silence stretched.
The city kept moving.
Wonyoung’s hands tightened around the railing.
“Yujin…” Her voice was gentle. Too gentle “I—”
“It’s okay” Yujin said quickly, before she could stop herself. Then she forced herself to slow down. “You don’t have to answer right away”
Wonyoung turned to face her fully, eyes shining with something unreadable.
“I already know my answer”
That was it.
Yujin felt her breath catch, just for a second. She hid it behind a soft exhale.
“I can’t, we can’t” Wonyoung said. “It’s not possible”
Yujin nodded once. “Because of the company?”
“Because of everything” Wonyoung replied “We’re women. We’re idols. There’s no future where this doesn’t hurt everyone”
Her voice wavered. “I don’t want to lose you”
Yujin smiled.
It wasn’t forced.
“I know” she said “That’s why I said it now”
Wonyoung stepped closer, hesitating before reaching out. Her fingers brushed Yujin’s sleeve, tentative, like she was afraid Yujin might disappear if she held on too tightly.
“I can only give you friendship” Wonyoung said “I can stay by your side. Just… not that way”
Yujin met her eyes.
“That’s enough” she said softly.
It wasn’t true.
But it was what love was supposed to say.
“Thank you for being honest with me” Yujin continued “I don’t regret telling you”
Wonyoung searched her face, as if trying to find the pain Yujin was carefully hiding.
“You’re really okay?” she asked.
Yujin nodded and smiled not as an idol, not as a leader, but as someone letting go.
“Let’s go home” she said.
That night, the dorm was quiet again.
Yujin went straight to her room, closing the door gently behind her. Gaeul watched her disappear, heart heavy, knowing better than to follow.
Down the hall, Wonyoung walked into her own room.
She locked the door.
And then she slid down against it, covering her mouth as the first sob tore free.
She cried silently at first—years of control refusing to let go, but it didn’t last. Tears soaked into her sleeves, her shoulders shaking as she pressed her forehead to her knees.
“I’m sorry” she whispered into the empty room. “I’m sorry”
She loved Yujin.
She had for longer than she was willing to admit.
But love wasn’t enough in an industry that would tear them apart, strip them down to headlines and scandals and ruin. Love wouldn’t protect Yujin. Love wouldn’t protect any of them.
So she chose distance.
She chose survival.
And it hurt more than rejection ever could.
Back in her own room, Yujin sat on the edge of her bed, breathing carefully, hand pressed to her chest.
She smiled faintly to herself.
At least she was honest.
Somewhere deep inside her lungs, something shifted.
The petals were blooming now.
And neither of them knew just how little time that honesty had bought.
Yujin told Gaeul that night.
They were sitting on the floor of Yujin’s room, backs against the bed, the lights turned off except for the soft glow slipping in through the window. The city outside felt impossibly far away.
“She rejected me” Yujin said.
Her voice was calm. Almost gentle.
Gaeul didn’t respond at first.
“She said she could only give me friendship” Yujin continued “She said it wasn’t possible. That we’re both women. That the industry would destroy us”
Gaeul’s hands clenched in her lap.
“She wasn’t cruel” Yujin added, as if that mattered. “She was kind about it”
That was when Gaeul broke.
She turned sharply, burying her face into Yujin’s shoulder, her body shaking as sobs tore out of her chest. She cried hard and openly, the way Yujin hadn’t allowed herself to.
“I knew it” Gaeul choked “I knew this was what would happen”
Yujin lifted a hand with effort and rested it in Gaeul’s hair, fingers trembling.
“I’m sorry” Yujin whispered.
“Why are you apologizing to me? You don’t get to apologize,” Gaeul snapped through tears “You loved her. You did everything right”
Gaeul pulled back just enough to look at her, eyes red and furious and terrified all at once.
“This means it’s going to get worse” she said “Doesn’t it?”
Yujin didn’t answer immediately.
Her breathing had become shallow again—carefully controlled, painfully measured.
“…Yes,” she admitted.
Gaeul pressed her lips together, nodding as more tears fell “Then we tell the management. All of it. No more delays”
Yujin nodded back.
The Starship conference room felt different this time.
There was no debate. No persuasion. No optimism left to entertain.
Yujin sat straight-backed, pale under the fluorescent lights, while Gaeul stood slightly behind her, hands folded tight as if holding herself together by force alone.
“She rejected me” Yujin said plainly.
The room went quiet.
One of the higher-ups exhaled slowly “I see”
“She doesn’t know about my condition” Yujin continued “And it should stay that way”
Another glance passed between the executives.
“We anticipated this outcome” one of them said carefully “Which means we move to contingency planning”
The word felt clinical.
Cruel.
“We need to begin adjusting group activities” another manager added. “Gradual redistribution of responsibilities. Backup leadership. Media framing”
Gaeul stiffened “You’re talking about after—”
“Yes” the executive interrupted gently. “After”
Yujin’s fingers tightened on the armrest.
“There’s more” Yujin said “When my condition escalates… Wonyoung can’t be here to see it”
The room stilled.
“You want us to move her out the country” someone said.
“I want her protected” Yujin corrected “She cannot see me like that. She cannot know why”
“That’s a significant decision” an executive said “She’ll ask questions”
“Give her overseas schedules” Yujin replied “Fashion weeks. Brand events. Anything”
“And when she comes back?”
Yujin looked down for the first time.
“…I won’t be here anymore”
Gaeul’s breath hitched behind her.
The silence that followed was heavy, suffocating.
Finally, one executive nodded. “Alright, We’ll prepare”
Medical staff.
Media contingencies.
International schedules.
A future quietly reshaped around absence.
“You will remain under observation” they told Yujin “Once symptoms escalate, we act immediately”
Yujin stood on unsteady legs, bowing deeply.
“Thank you” Yujin said. Not for saving her but for keeping Wonyoung in the dark.
Outside the building, Gaeul grabbed Yujin’s arm, pulling her to a stop.
“You’re talking in there like you’re already gone” Gaeul said, voice breaking again.
Yujin looked at her and smiled softly.
“I just don’t want to leave things unfinished”
Gaeul swallowed hard. “You’re not allowed to disappear quietly.”
Yujin squeezed her hand “Then stay with me while I’m still here?”
Gaeul nodded fiercely “Always”
Somewhere in their dorm, Wonyoung was unaware with the other members, unaware that schedules were already being rewritten around her future. Unaware that love had been confessed. Unaware that loss was being carefully planned and unaware that the person who loved her most was already beginning to fade.
Yujin’s body began to fail her faster than anyone expected.
It started with the coughing.
Not the dry kind she could hide behind a turned shoulder or a practiced laugh but deep, violent fits that bent her in half, stole her breath, and left her trembling long after they passed.
The first petal bloomed in her palm backstage.
Small.
Pink.
Real.
Yujin stared at it for a long moment, chest heaving, before closing her fingers around it and slipping it into her pocket like it was nothing more than lint.
She wiped her mouth. Lifted her head.
And walked back out under the lights.
The stage lights were blinding.
Music thundered through the venue, cheers crashing like waves, and Yujin moved on instinct—muscle memory carrying her where breath no longer could.
Her vision blurred at the edges halfway through the chorus.
Her lungs burned.
Just a little more, she told herself. Just until the end.
Then her foot slipped.
It was subtle, barely noticeable to anyone watching, but Yujin felt the sudden loss of balance immediately. The world tilted, her body pitching forward as her legs gave out beneath her.
Strong arms caught her before she hit the floor.
Gaeul.
She didn’t hesitate. Didn’t panic. She shifted her weight smoothly, turning the stumble into choreography, holding Yujin upright with a grip that was anything but casual.
To the crowd, it looked intentional.
To Yujin, it felt like salvation.
“Breathe” Gaeul murmured, so quiet only Yujin could hear “I’ve got you”
Yujin nodded faintly, forcing air into lungs that no longer wanted it.
They finished the song. Like they always did.
Backstage, the atmosphere was different.
Rei lingered closer than usual, eyes sharp with concern.
Liz hovered, offering water Yujin barely touched.
Leeseo frowned openly, her youth making it harder to hide fear.
“Unnie.. Are you alright?” Leeseo asked. “You almost fell earlier”
“I’m just tired” Yujin replied with a smile that took more effort than the entire performance.
Wonyoung watched her quietly from across the room.
She didn’t say anything but her gaze lingered, worried, searching.
Yujin turned away before she could look too closely.
That night, the company made their move.
Wonyoung was called into a meeting she hadn’t expected.
The schedule was already prepared when she sat down.
“You’ll be leaving overseas next week” the manager said “Extended fashion and brand activities”
Wonyoung blinked. “Next week?”
“Yes”
She hesitated. “Can it be postponed?”
The room stilled.
“I’m worried about Yujin” Wonyoung continued carefully “She hasn’t been well lately. I don’t feel right leaving right now”
The manager’s expression softened—but only briefly.
“This schedule is non-negotiable”
Wonyoung frowned. “Why the rush?”
“Opportunities don’t wait” they replied “And this is important for you and the group”
Wonyoung’s fingers curled against her lap.
“So I don’t have a choice,” she said quietly.
The manager met her gaze. “You don’t”
Silence stretched.
Finally, Wonyoung nodded.
“…Okay, I understand”
She found Yujin later that night.
Yujin was sitting on the dorm couch, posture careful, breathing shallow, hands folded like she was trying to keep herself together by force alone.
“I’m going overseas for an extended fashion week and brand schedule” Wonyoung said.
Yujin looked up.
“Oh” she replied, smile automatic. “That’s great”
Wonyoung studied her. “You don’t look happy”
“I am” Yujin said. “You should go”
Something twisted in Wonyoung’s chest.
“Okay… Unnie.. take care of yourself while I’m gone okay” Wonyoung added softly.
Yujin smiled and nodded. “You know I always do”
It was the cruelest lie she’d ever told.
That night, alone in her room, Yujin finally let herself cough freely.
Petals spilled into her hands more than before, staining her palms pink and red as her body shook with each breathless spasm.
Gaeul knelt beside her, pressing a towel to her lips, eyes burning with helpless fury.
“It’s accelerating” Gaeul whispered.
Yujin leaned weakly against her shoulder.
“Then it’s good she’s leaving” Yujin murmured “She won’t have to see this”
Gaeul clenched her jaw, tears slipping free.
Outside, plans were already moving.
Flights booked.
Schedules finalized.
Distance carefully arranged.
And as Wonyoung packed for a future she didn’t fully understand, Yujin’s body continued to fall apart in silence.
Wonyoung left on a quiet morning.
No dramatic goodbyes. No lingering embraces.
She hugged each member carefully, smiling even as worry lingered behind her eyes. When she reached Yujin, she hesitated—just a second longer than necessary.
“Eat properly” Wonyoung said softly.
Yujin smiled back. “You too”
They didn’t hug.
They never did anymore.
Wonyoung waved one last time before disappearing through the departure gates, unaware that the distance she was putting between them had been meticulously planned.
And that it was already too late.
The dorm felt wrong without her.
Too empty. Too quiet.
Yujin lasted less than an hour after the door closed behind the last manager before her body gave up pretending.
It started with a cough.
Then another.
And then she doubled over, hands braced against the kitchen counter as petals spilled from her mouth, pink and red scattering across the white surface like something violently out of place.
“Yujin—?!”
Rei was the first to see it.
Liz froze where she stood, eyes wide.
Leeseo let out a small, broken sound.
Gaeul moved instantly, wrapping an arm around Yujin’s shoulders, already reaching for the towel she’d learned to keep nearby.
The truth was no longer something they could look away from.
Petals kept coming.
Yujin sank to her knees, gasping, chest convulsing as her lungs betrayed her completely. The towel darkened in seconds.
“Why—?” Liz whispered, voice shaking “What is this?”
Yujin lifted her head with effort.
Tears streamed down her face—not from pain, but fear.
“I didn’t want you to find out like this” she said hoarsely.
Rei covered her mouth. “Is this… hanahaki?”
Yujin nodded weakly.
The room collapsed into chaos.
Gaeul steadied Yujin while the others crowded around her, panic and heartbreak crashing into one another all at once.
“Why didn’t you tell us?” Leeseo cried.
“How long?” Liz asked, hands trembling.
“Does Wonyoung know?” Rei whispered.
At that, Yujin’s grip tightened desperately around Gaeul’s sleeve.
“No” Yujin said, voice cracking “Please—please don’t tell her”
The words came out rushed, broken, frantic.
“She can’t know” Yujin begged “She’s overseas. She needs to stay there. Promise me”
Liz shook her head, sobbing “Yujin, she deserves to—”
“I know” Yujin interrupted, coughing hard “I know she does”
Another petal slipped past her lips.
“But if she knows” Yujin whispered “she’ll come back. And if she comes back… she’ll blame herself”
Her vision blurred.
“I can’t let that be the last thing she carries”
The room fell silent.
Gaeul pressed her forehead to Yujin’s temple, tears falling freely now “We won’t tell her” she said “I promise”
One by one, the others nodded—broken, helpless, devastated.
Yujin let out a shaky breath.
“Thank you” she whispered. Then her body collapsed completely.
The hospital room was quiet in a way that felt final.
Machines hummed softly around Yujin, their steady rhythm doing what her lungs could no longer manage on their own. Tubes traced her body like lines drawn to keep her tethered to the world.
She was unconscious when her parents arrived.
Her mother’s hands shook as she reached for Yujin’s, fingers wrapping gently around skin that felt too cold, too thin.
“She looks so small” her mother whispered, breaking.
Her father stood stiffly at the foot of the bed, jaw clenched, eyes red-rimmed as he stared at his daughter, his child is fighting a battle she had never told them about.
The doctor spoke quietly.
“Her condition has escalated rapidly. We’re doing everything we can, but… you should prepare yourselves.”
Prepare.
Her mother sobbed openly now, pressing her face into Yujin’s hand. “You were always so brave” she cried “Why didn’t you tell us you were hurting?”
Her father finally stepped forward, resting a trembling hand on Yujin’s shoulder.
“You did well” he said softly “You’ve done enough”
Around them, the members stood silently.
Gaeul watched the scene with hollow eyes, hands clenched so tightly she could barely feel them.
Somewhere across the ocean, Wonyoung was unpacking her suitcase, heart heavy for reasons she couldn’t explain.
She didn’t know that goodbyes were already being spoken. She didn’t know that Yujin was running out of time.
And she didn’t know—
That love, once hidden to protect her, was now the only thing left holding Yujin to this world.
Yujin had been in critical condition for seven days.
Seven days of machines breathing for her.
Seven days of petals clogging lungs that no longer knew how to clear themselves.
Seven days of waiting for a miracle no one dared to name out loud.
And seven days of silence.
The dorm no longer felt like home, it felt like a holding room for grief that had nowhere to go.
“We can’t keep lying to her!”
Leeseo’s voice broke the quiet like glass shattering.
She stood in the middle of the living room, fists clenched, tears streaking freely down her face. Her shoulders shook as she struggled to breathe, panic and helplessness twisting together inside her chest.
“She deserves to know!” Leeseo cried “She loves Yujin, can’t you see that? What if, what if this is the last chance?”
“No”
Gaeul’s voice was firm. Unmoving.
She stood by the window, arms crossed tightly, eyes red but dry, the kind of composure that only came from forcing herself not to fall apart.
“We promised Yujin” Gaeul said “And we don’t break promises like that”
“She begged us because she thought she was protecting Wonyoung” Leeseo sobbed. “But what if she’s wrong? What if we’re just taking her choice away too?”
“That’s not your decision to make” Gaeul shot back.
Liz sat curled on the couch, knees pulled to her chest, face buried in her hands. Silent tears soaked into her sleeves, shoulders trembling as she tried not to make a sound.
Rei knelt beside her, one arm around Liz’s back, the other hand gripping her own sleeve so tightly her knuckles had gone white.
“She’s dying” Liz whispered hoarsely “How are we supposed to pretend everything’s normal?”
Rei squeezed her eyes shut. “If we tell Wonyoung… Yujin loses the one thing she asked us for”
“And if we don’t?” Leeseo cried “What if Wonyoung never forgives us?”
Gaeul turned sharply, eyes blazing.
“She doesn’t have to forgive us” Gaeul said “This isn’t about us”
Her voice cracked for the first time.
“This is about letting Yujin go the way she chose”
The room fell into heavy silence, broken only by Leeseo’s sobs and Liz’s quiet, broken breathing.
None of them noticed the door unlocking.
Wonyoung stepped inside the dorm with her suitcase still in hand.
She hadn’t told them she was coming back early. The overseas schedule had ended abruptly shortened by a feeling she couldn’t shake, a weight pressing against her chest that no runway or flashing camera could distract her from.
She smiled softly as she closed the door behind her, then froze.
Leeseo was crying.
Liz was shaking.
Rei looked hollow.
And Gaeul looked like she was holding the world together with bare hands.
“What’s going on?” Wonyoung asked, voice light but uncertain.
No one answered.
The silence was wrong.
Wonyoung took a step forward.
“Did something happen?” she asked again.
Leeseo spun around, eyes wide, face pale.
“Unnie—” she choked, clapping a hand over her mouth.
Gaeul’s heart slammed violently against her ribs.
“Leeseo” Gaeul warned sharply.
Leeseo froze.
Wonyoung’s smile faded completely.
She looked between them, confusion turning slowly into fear.
“Why are you all crying?” Wonyoung whispered “Where’s Yujin?”
The question hung in the air like a blade.
Gaeul stepped forward quickly, forcing a steady tone.
“She’s resting” Gaeul said “She’s… been overworking herself”
Wonyoung frowned “That doesn’t explain this”
Her gaze lingered on Leeseo, then Liz, then Rei.
Something was wrong.
She could feel it in her bones.
“I just came back” Wonyoung said quietly “Why does it feel like I walked into a funeral?”
No one answered.
Until Leeseo broke first.
“I can’t do this anymore!”
Her voice tore through the room, sharp and panicked, soaked in tears that refused to stop falling. Gaeul spun toward her, eyes widening in alarm.
“Leeseo—stop” Gaeul said, stepping forward “Don’t—”
But Leeseo was already shaking her head, sobs spilling freely as she looked straight at Wonyoung.
“Yujin is in the hospital” Leeseo cried. “She’s been there for a week. She’s—she’s really sick”
The world stopped.
“What?” Wonyoung whispered.
Gaeul grabbed Leeseo’s arm “Enough. Don’t say anymore”
But it was too late.
Leeseo pulled free, tears blurring her vision. “She has hanahaki” she said. “She’s in critical condition. She’s been coughing petals and she—she might not—”
“Stop”
Wonyoung’s voice was barely audible.
Her suitcase slipped from her hand and hit the floor with a dull thud.
Hanahaki.
The word echoed in her head, meaningless and devastating all at once.
“No” Wonyoung said, shaking her head slowly “You’re lying”
Liz burst into sobs. Rei turned away, unable to look at her anymore.
Gaeul stepped in front of Leeseo, shoulders squared, face pale “It wasn’t our place to tell you” she said quietly.
Wonyoung stared at her.
“You knew” Wonyoung whispered “All of you knew”
Her chest tightened painfully.
“And you let me leave”
Gaeul swallowed hard “Because she asked us to”
Wonyoung’s breath came out ragged. “Where is she?”
“Wonyoung—”
“Where. Is. She.”
Gaeul looked down.
“She’s in the Seoul National University Hospital, In the ICU”
That was all it took.
The manager barely had time to process Wonyoung’s shaking voice before she was already grabbing her coat.
“I need to go to her” Wonyoung said “Now”
There was no argument. Not when her hands were trembling this badly. Not when her face looked like something inside her had already shattered.
The car ride was silent at first.
City lights blurred past the window as Wonyoung pressed her forehead to the glass, breathing shallowly, heart pounding so hard it hurt.
Then she spoke.
“You should have told me”
Gaeul closed her eyes.
“You had no right” Wonyoung continued, voice breaking. “You took my choice away”
Gaeul turned to her then, eyes red, voice steady only by force. “No... We just honored hers”
Wonyoung laughed once—sharp and broken “By lying to me?”
“By protecting you” Gaeul said “By protecting her”
Wonyoung clenched her fists “From what?”
“From guilt” Gaeul replied “From staying with her because you felt like you had to”
Wonyoung froze.
Gaeul continued, voice trembling now “Yujin didn’t want to survive because you felt responsible. She didn’t want you to love her out of fear”
The car felt too small.
Too tight.
“She loved you” Gaeul said softly “So she chose to disappear quietly instead”
Wonyoung’s chest caved in.
The rooftop.
The confession.
I like you. Not as a friend.
Her hands flew to her mouth as a sob ripped free.
“She smiled” Wonyoung cried “She smiled when I rejected her”
Gaeul nodded, tears slipping down her cheeks. “Because she already knew this was how it would end”
Wonyoung doubled over, clutching at her chest like she couldn’t breathe.
“She was sick” Wonyoung whispered “And she still let me walk away”
The car slowed as the hospital came into view.
Lights glowing.
Windows silent.
Everything waiting.
Wonyoung wiped her face roughly, eyes burning with grief and fury and love she had never been allowed to name.
“She didn’t force me” Wonyoung said hoarsely.
“No” Gaeul replied.
“She loved me enough not to”
The car came to a stop.
And as Wonyoung stepped out into the cold night air, legs unsteady, heart completely broken—She realized the cruelest truth of all. She had loved An Yujin too.
The hallway outside the ICU room was filled with quiet, broken sounds.
Muffled sobs.
Shaking breaths.
Hands clutching tissues that had long since become useless.
Wonyoung saw them before anyone saw her.
Yujin’s parents stood just outside the door, her mother bent forward, shoulders shaking violently as she cried into her husband’s chest. Her father’s face was twisted with a grief so deep it looked carved into him, one hand pressed against the wall as if it was the only thing keeping him upright.
Gaeul stopped walking.
So did the manager.
Wonyoung didn’t.
She stepped past them slowly at first, then faster, until she was standing right in front of the door.
Her heart was screaming something was wrong.
Something irreversible.
“Wonyoung…”
Yujin’s mother’s voice was soft. Hoarse. Already breaking.
Wonyoung didn’t turn.
She pushed the door open.
The room was quiet.
Too quiet.
Machines surrounded the bed, but their sounds were wrong, steady, distant, no longer urgent. Tubes traced across Yujin’s body, her chest rising mechanically, her skin pale in a way Wonyoung had never seen before.
Yujin looked… still.
“Yujin” Wonyoung whispered.
She rushed to the bedside, dropping her bag, falling to her knees as she reached for Yujin’s face with trembling hands.
Her skin was cold.
No warmth.
No response.
“No” Wonyoung breathed “No—no, wake up”
Her hands cupped Yujin’s cheeks desperately, thumbs brushing beneath closed eyes as if she could will them open.
“You can’t do this” Wonyoung cried “You said you’d always take care of yourself”
Her voice cracked completely.
“I have something to tell you” she sobbed “I came back. I—I didn’t finish saying it before”
Yujin didn’t move.
Didn’t breathe.
Didn’t smile.
Behind her, Yujin’s mother let out a broken sound.
“Wonyoung” she called softly, tears soaking her face “She—”
Wonyoung shook her head violently.
“Please” she whispered, pressing her forehead against Yujin’s “Just wake up. I’ll listen this time. I promise”
Her sobs echoed painfully in the room.
“I was scared” Wonyoung choked “I thought I was protecting us. I thought love wasn’t enough”
Her fingers curled into the fabric of Yujin’s blanket.
“I was wrong”
The machines continued their quiet rhythm.
Indifferent.
Final.
Wonyoung froze.
Her breath hitched as realization slammed into her all at once.
The cold.
The silence.
The absence.
Her hands slid down slowly, gripping Yujin’s shoulders as a sound tore out of her chest—raw, devastated, unrestrained.
A scream that didn’t want to exist in a world where An Yujin no longer did.
“I love you!” Wonyoung cried “I love you—I just didn’t know how to say it!”
She collapsed forward, clutching Yujin’s unmoving body, sobbing violently as if grief itself was tearing her apart from the inside.
“I’m here” she begged “I came back. Please—please don’t leave”
But Yujin had already gone.
Time did not stop.
That was the cruelest part.
The machines were turned off one by one, their steady sounds fading into nothing until the room was left with only breathing—everyone’s except Yujin’s.
Wonyoung stayed where she was.
No one tried to pull her away.
Yujin’s mother knelt beside her, hands shaking as she gently touched Wonyoung’s back. “She loved you” she said through tears “So much”
Wonyoung didn’t look up.
“I know” she whispered.
Her voice sounded hollow, like it came from somewhere far away.
“I know now”
She pressed her face into Yujin’s shoulder, clinging as if warmth might still exist there if she held on tightly enough.
“I would’ve chosen you” Wonyoung sobbed. “I would’ve fought for you. I swear I would have”
Her words spilled uselessly into the stillness.
No answer came.
The days after blurred together.
The news was kept quiet—carefully worded statements, phrases like health complications and temporary hiatus turned permanent. Fans mourned a version of the truth that barely brushed the edges of what had really happened.
The dorm felt haunted.
Yujin’s room stayed untouched.
Her jacket still hung on the chair.
Her shoes were still lined neatly by the door.
A half-finished bottle of water sat by her bed.
Wonyoung couldn’t bring herself to enter at first.
When she finally did, she sat on the floor and cried until there was nothing left in her.
Gaeul watched from the doorway, arms wrapped tightly around herself.
“She didn’t want you to carry this” Gaeul said quietly.
Wonyoung looked up at her, eyes swollen, voice raw “Then why does it feel like she left it all with me?”
Gaeul had no answer.
The funeral was small.
Private.
White flowers everywhere—too many, Wonyoung thought bitterly, remembering petals stained red in stories she had never believed would touch her life.
Yujin’s parents stood side by side, holding each other upright.
The members stood together, dressed in black, hands clasped so tightly it hurt.
When it was Wonyoung’s turn to approach the casket, her legs nearly gave out.
She stopped in front of it and stared.
Yujin looked peaceful.
Too peaceful.
Wonyoung reached out, fingertips brushing the edge before pulling back, afraid she might shatter something just by touching it.
“I’m sorry” she whispered.
She bowed deeply.
Not as an idol.
Not as a member.
But as someone who loved too late.
That night, Wonyoung couldn’t sleep.
She lay awake, staring at the ceiling, clinging onto Yujin’s hoodie.
Yujin’s confession replaying over and over in her mind.
I like you. Not as a friend.
She had heard it.
She had felt something stir in her chest.
And she had buried it under fear.
Wonyoung turned onto her side and finally let herself say it out loud, the words tasting like blood and regret.
“I loved you too”
The room did not respond.
It never would.