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hyojungss. shippy gen.date posted: 2024-12-27
summary: Wonyoung versus herself (and Yujin).
word count: 1,215 words
content warnings: disordered eating
notes: for the 2023 comment ficathon by hyojungss. shippy gen.
She looks cute right now, with her hair done up in pigtails, giant red bows as big as her fists adorning them, as she sits still in her dressing room chair, a stylist tending to her makeup. She can barely see in front of herself with the makeup brush in her face.
Wonyoung looks forward, straight towards the mirror, as much as she can. She resists the urge to blink as the stylist turns her head towards herself and takes an eyeliner pencil to her eyes.
If Wonyoung wasn't a nice girl, was as wretched and twisted as she's made out to be, she'd grab that eyeliner pencil and stab the stylist with it, or better, stab herself with it, give herself something to cry over that's true and tangible. No big pouty eyes, swelling with tears, glistening pathetically; all her guts spilled out on the floor, tears dramatically smearing her makeup, nastily marring her face, all romantic.
It's never like that, though. If she were to stab herself right now, the stylist would ask her if she's ok, and she'd be handled delicately, with a firm and commanding touch, but still delicate, fragile.
With time, ever since her redebut with IVE, she's realized, most of all, that she wants to feel, experience. She wants more than what she has - that's one thing the netizens are right about. She wants more, more, more. She wants to reach up as far as she can from their dorm's rooftop and grab the moon and squeeze it in her scrawny fists, as hard as she can, until it cracks.
Wonyoung sighs, and Wonyoung sits pretty in her dressing room chair and smiles when she's told to by her stylist, and Wonyoung gets up when her makeup is done and walks to the corner of the room.
"You're looking cute today," Yujin says, winking as she comes in, all playful, as expected of her. She's become more flirty this comeback, with the new haircut and dramatic eyeliner; Wonyoung knows what kind of audience she's trying to attract, and she thinks Yujin is smart for that, knows that those fans will support her until the bitter end. Good for her.
Bad for Wonyoung, though, as she has none of those charms, too girlish, too beautiful instead of edgy, boringly girl next door instead of sharp and cutting. Too beautiful. The netizens would feel so vindicated if she ever thought that out loud.
Wonyoung smiles in return, delicate, the corners of her mouth peaking upwards slightly. Cheerfully, she says, "thank you, unnie!" and nods her head as she does, preparing to leave for the stage, when Yujin tilts her head in a way that makes Wonyoung know she should stay just a bit longer. They've known each other long enough that Wonyoung can read her cues.
Yujin's biting at her lip, enough to almost worry a cut into it. Wonyoung would chastise her if it was her place, but it isn't.
"Are you feeling up to performing today? Have you been eating enough?" Yujin says, giving Wonyoung a once over, and it makes Wonyoung blush, the back of her neck heating up.
It almost makes her angry, though, how casually Yujin says that out loud, "have you been eating?" - how could she, how dare she, even, if she wants to become the person they think she is, that Yujin says something like that with stylists in the room, even their group mates. She knows it's no secret, how she's gotten to be so thin, how she worries her fans and fuels her haters with it; but to hear it out loud, with company, fills her with some kind of rage that she knows she's intrinsically unworthy of.
Here's the thing: Wonyoung wants to feel, but more than anything, she wants to be allowed to feel.
In An Yujin's presence, her groupmate of several years, beyond IVE and IZ*ONE, even on the stage of Produce 48 all those years ago, all she feels is restrained, held back, like something wild and untamed is thrashing from within her, despite how weak and light she feels, despite the satisfaction that comes from those feelings. She still feels that beast, chained and leashed but still flexing its gnarled fingers from within her stomach, just waiting for the moment to start scratching at the walls for freedom.
She glances back at Yujin, who stares back at her with a plaintive (pitying, sorry) expression. Delicate, fragile.
"I'll be ok, Yujin unnie," she says, smile feather-light and soft. "I just woke up tired today. I didn't get much sleep after yesterday's constant shooting! The flashes stuck in my eyes even when they were closed. It was hard to sleep."
Yujin looks about ready to raise an eyebrow. She knows Wonyoung's lies, clear as day to her, opaque to anyone else, even the rest of their IVE bandmates. They haven't learned yet, but Wonyoung thinks maybe Rei is catching on.
Yujin beckons for her to sit down, pats the seat beside her. Wonyoung briefly wonders how much time they have left before they go on stage, but pushes it out of her head, as she's sitting down before she can really think about it. She notices Yujin's hand on the seat as she turns to face Wonyoung, and Wonyoung's facing her, too, now. She stays looking at Yujin, the bright, sharp, determined look in her eyes and her gentle lips, marred by the slightest smirk on her face. Yujin leans in close, her hand on the seat sliding closer, her eyes so, so close to Wonyoung, cutting through any of her thoughts.
Yujin's hand, the one not on the seat, rises to Wonyoung's shoulder, and she first notices it when she feels it before she sees it. She's still staring at Yujin's eyes, almost dizzy from how long she's been looking into them, how bright they are and how that brightness stabs back into her eyes.
Yujin is sharp: she cuts through anything and knows how to give as hard as she gets. Wonyoung, briefly, thinks that this comeback is made for her, with the kicks and piercing eyeliner and baggy jerseys. Maybe it was: maybe they're focusing on Yujin this era, more than Wonyoung.
Maybe it's good for the both of them, she thinks, as she feels Yujin's hand slide from her shoulder to the side of her face. Yujin grips tight, and Wonyoung sees her tilt her head, ever so slightly.
"I don't think there's a single person in this room that isn't just a little bit in love with you," she whispers, and that beast in Wonyoung's stomach cries out, something equally pained and confused.
"What do you mean by that?" Wonyoung whispers back.
"You know what I mean," and Yujin is right.
Yujin abrutly removes her touch, turns away from her and gets up. Wonyoung's gaze follows her as she walks away, pushes through the double doors and out of the room.
Except Yujin is wrong. There's one person in the room that isn't just a little bit in love with Wonyoung, and it's not Yujin, or the stylists, or the managers, or the cameramen.
Wonyoung sits and stares at the doors, slightly ajar in Yujin's wake, and wonders when Yujin became so mature.