Chapter 20: She's back

The makeup brush glided across Hayoon's cheek, featherlight, yet it felt heavy against her skin.

She sat in the stylist's chair, staring at her reflection, at the unfamiliar girl in the mirror. They had covered her paleness with foundation, brushed soft pink across her cheeks to make her look alive. Her lips, once cracked from dehydration, were now painted a delicate rose, her eyes framed with shimmery brown and long, curled lashes. The girl in the mirror looked perfect.

But she wasn't real.

She had become nothing more than a carefully constructed image, a version of herself that fans expected to see. The bubbly maknae, the bright-eyed vocalist who loved to perform, who smiled through everything.

And today, she had to be that girl again.

"Hayoon, we need you on standby," a staff member called.

She stood, legs slightly wobbly beneath her, adjusting the hem of her dress. It was a soft pastel color, meant to make her look fresh and radiant, but it felt suffocating.

Jiwon, standing beside her, gave her a careful glance. "Are you sure about this?"

No.

But she nodded anyway. "I'll be fine."

Minseo frowned but didn't push. The members knew by now that forcing Hayoon to talk wouldn't get them anywhere. So instead, they just stood beside her, silent pillars of support as they were ushered onto the stage.

The venue was packed.

Fans screamed the moment they appeared, the deafening sound vibrating through Hayoon's chest. The lights were blinding, flashing against the banners with her name on them, the ones that had been left untouched while she was on hiatus. Her hands trembled slightly as she lifted her mic.

The MC smiled. "And, of course, we have a special surprise today—Hayoon is back!"

Another round of cheers erupted, so loud it almost made her dizzy. She forced herself to smile, lifting a hand in a small wave.

"Hayoon, how have you been?" the MC asked, holding the mic toward her.

She swallowed. "I... I've been resting a lot."

It wasn't a lie, but it wasn't the truth either.

She had been recovering, trying to pull herself back from the edge, but the fans didn't need to hear that.

They just wanted to see her smile.

So she did.

She answered questions, waved at fans, even reached for a few hands when they came up for signatures. Her grip was weak, her fingers barely able to hold the pen properly, but she kept going. She laughed when she was supposed to, nodded when she needed to, pretended like she hadn't spent the last few months barely holding herself together.

And for a moment, she almost convinced herself that she was okay.

Until the fan in front of her whispered, "You look skinnier. Were you on a diet?"

Her stomach twisted.

Her fingers clenched around the pen.

She forced another smile. "Ah... something like that."

The fan grinned, clearly not realizing how much damage the comment had done. "You're still so pretty! I hope you stay healthy."

Healthy.

She wanted to laugh at the irony.

She nodded, handed back the signed album, and moved on to the next person.

The fanmeeting lasted hours, draining her more than any performance ever had. By the time it ended, her legs were shaking, her body screaming for rest.

But rest wasn't an option.

Because the moment they left the venue, a manager was already speaking.

"You'll be heading straight to practice," he said, flipping through schedules on his tablet. "We need you fully prepped for the comeback in a month. You're still behind on choreo, so we need to catch you up."

Hayoon felt her breath hitch.

She had just gotten back.

Couldn't they give her a second to breathe?

Apparently not.

Because an hour later, she was standing in the practice room, sweat already clinging to her skin as the speakers blasted the song over and over again.

"Again," the dance coach called out.

She gritted her teeth, stepping back into position.

She pushed through the pain in her muscles, through the fog in her mind. The mirrors reflected her every movement, and she could see how much weaker she had gotten, how her turns weren't as sharp, how her stamina wasn't what it used to be.

She could hear the comments already.

"She lost her touch."

"She's dragging the group down."

"Maybe she should've just stayed on hiatus."

The thought made her chest tighten, panic creeping up her spine. She had to do better. She had to be perfect.

Even if it killed her.

The music started again.

She stepped forward, forced her body to move, forced herself to keep up.

But she couldn't.

Her vision blurred.

Her head spun.

And then—

Everything went black.

When she woke up, she was on the practice room floor, a cold cloth pressed against her forehead.

Jiwon was kneeling beside her, her expression tight with worry. Minseo stood nearby, arms crossed, clearly frustrated.

"You collapsed," Jiwon said softly.

Hayoon blinked, her mind still sluggish. "I... I just got dizzy."

"You fainted," Minseo corrected, her voice sharp. "You're not okay, Hayoon. You shouldn't be here."

She pushed herself up, ignoring the way her arms trembled. "I have to be here."

Minseo scoffed. "Why? So you can pass out again?"

Hayoon clenched her fists. "Because if I'm not, I'll get left behind."

Silence.

Jiwon exhaled, rubbing a hand over her face. "No one's leaving you behind, Hayoon."

But Hayoon knew better.

She had seen it happen before—idols who took too long to recover, idols who became burdens to their companies. They got pushed aside, forgotten.

She couldn't be one of them.

So she stood, ignoring the way her legs wobbled. "I can keep going."

Minseo swore under her breath. "You're impossible."

But she didn't stop her.

And that was the problem.

No one could stop her.

Not when she was already too far gone.

That night, Hayoon lay in bed, staring at the ceiling, her body aching in every possible way.

Her phone buzzed.

A message from Ni-ki.

"I saw clips from the fanmeeting. You did great."

She hesitated, then typed back.

"Thanks."

Another message came almost instantly.

"Are you okay?"

She stared at it for a long time, fingers hovering over the keyboard.

Was she okay?

She didn't know anymore.

So she did what she had always done.

She lied.

"Yeah. Just tired."

Ni-ki didn't reply for a while.

Then—

"I miss you."

Her chest ached.

She curled up under the blanket, gripping her phone tightly.

She wanted to reply.

Wanted to say she missed him too.

But instead, she put her phone down and closed her eyes.

Because saying it out loud would make it real.

And right now, she wasn't sure she could handle that.

Ni-ki had seen the fanmeeting clips.

He had seen the way Hayoon smiled—too bright, too forced, like the expression didn't belong to her anymore. He had seen how she held herself stiffly, how her hands trembled ever so slightly when she reached for fans' albums. He had noticed how she barely spoke, how she only said what was necessary, how her voice, once so full of warmth, now carried a hollowness that sent chills down his spine.

And then the clips of practice had surfaced.

The ones where she tripped over her own feet, where her body sagged with exhaustion. The one where she collapsed, hitting the ground like a puppet whose strings had been cut.

It made his stomach churn.

And it made him furious.

How could they let her go back so soon? How could no one stop this?

But he knew why.

Because this industry didn't care.

It never had.

That's why, despite her body screaming for rest, she had been shoved back into the spotlight like nothing had happened. Like she hadn't almost died. Like she hadn't spent weeks barely able to function.

And that's why he was standing in front of her dorm now, waiting for her to open the door.

It swung open a few seconds later.

And the moment he saw her, his breath caught.

She looked exhausted.

Her frame was even smaller than before, her sweater hanging loosely around her shoulders. Her face was paler, her lips dry and cracked despite the makeup she had worn earlier that day. Her hair was slightly messy, like she had been lying down but never really slept.

But what shook him the most—

Her eyes.

They weren't just tired.

They were empty.

Like she had lost something she could never get back.

Ni-ki's chest tightened.

"Hayoon..."

She didn't let him finish.

Before he could say another word, she stepped forward and wrapped her arms around him.

Tightly.

Desperately.

His entire body froze.

She had been distant for weeks, barely replying to messages, keeping herself closed off from him and everyone else. But now, she was clinging to him like he was the only thing keeping her from falling apart.

Slowly, carefully, he brought his arms around her.

Her fingers curled into the fabric of his hoodie, gripping onto him like she was afraid he would disappear. Her body was so small against his, so fragile, as if she would shatter if he let go.

She buried her face into his chest.

"I'm tired," she whispered, voice barely audible.

Ni-ki exhaled, threading his fingers through her hair. "I know."

She held him tighter.

For a long time, they just stood there, wrapped in each other's warmth, saying nothing.

And then, Hayoon pulled back just enough to look up at him.

For the first time in weeks, she wasn't keeping her distance.

She was searching for something in him, something she had lost.

Maybe it was comfort.

Maybe it was love.

Maybe it was herself.

He didn't know.

But he knew he wasn't going to pull away.

She lifted a hand, fingertips tracing the hem of his sleeve before gripping it gently. Then, with slow, deliberate movements, she leaned up and pressed her lips against his.

It wasn't desperate.

It wasn't hurried.

It was soft. Warm.

Like she was trying to remind herself what it felt like to be cared for.

Ni-ki didn't move for a second, surprised by the sudden affection, by how fragile she felt in his arms. But then, he melted into her, his hands resting gently against her back.

When she pulled away, she didn't step back.

Instead, she pressed her forehead against his chest, breathing him in.

He ran his fingers through her hair again. "Hayoon..."

"I just..." Her voice wavered. "Can I stay like this?"

His heart ached.

He pressed a kiss against the top of her head. "Of course."

She led him inside, their hands never breaking apart, fingers tangled together like they were afraid to let go.

They ended up on her bed, curled up against each other, the silence thick with unspoken emotions.

Ni-ki held her carefully, letting her press herself against him, her head resting against his shoulder. She was so close, so warm, yet she felt so far.

He had never seen her like this.

Hayoon wasn't just tired.

She was broken.

And it scared him.

She let out a shaky breath, gripping the fabric of his hoodie again. "I don't know what's wrong with me."

Ni-ki's fingers traced soothing circles on her back. "Nothing's wrong with you, Hayoon."

She didn't answer.

She just closed her eyes, letting the warmth of his embrace wrap around her like a shield.

For the first time in weeks, she wasn't pretending.

She wasn't forcing a smile or holding herself together for the sake of others.

She was just Hayoon.