EP 5
EP 5
The sun came up like any other. The world didn’t care that Hanni had cried in the practice room the day before.
Neither did the schedule.
By noon, they were filming a short behind-the-scenes vlog for Jeanz's official channel. Danielle was holding the camera, narrating dramatically about how tired everyone looked. Hyein stuck a juice pouch to her cheek like an ice pack. Haerin yawned into her hoodie.
Hanni smiled on cue. She cracked jokes, threw her arm around Danielle’s shoulder, and even did her signature aegyo face. Fans would never guess what happened yesterday.
But Minji saw it.
She noticed how Hanni’s smile flickered too fast. How her eyes darted away when Sullyoon walked past her in the waiting room. How she laughed louder than usual, like she was trying to drown something out.
Sullyoon, oblivious as always, came up beside Minji while the staff prepped the lighting. “Unnie, is it okay if I practice harmonizing on that second chorus with you sometime? I think our tones would sound nice.”
Minji nodded politely. “Maybe later. Today’s packed.”
Sullyoon smiled. “Of course! Sorry—just excited.”
Minji didn’t reply.
Her eyes had drifted back to Hanni.
After filming, they went straight into rehearsal. The choreographer said little — maybe sensing that the group needed space today.
At dinner, Hanni was quiet. Not silent. Just... lighter, like a balloon floating just out of reach. She joined in the teasing, but it didn’t stick. Laughed when everyone laughed, but her laughter fell flat.
Danielle noticed. “You okay, Hanni?”
Hanni blinked. “Yeah, just sleepy.”
“You didn’t even eat your chicken,” Hyein mumbled around a drumstick.
Hanni waved her off. “I’m full. Really.”
Minji didn’t say anything. But she watched as Hanni quietly picked the skin off a wing and left the rest untouched.
A few minutes later, Minji reached over with her chopsticks and held up a piece of tender meat.
“Try this one,” she said gently.
Hanni blinked, surprised. “Minji—”
“No excuses,” Minji murmured. “One bite.”
Hanni hesitated, then leaned forward and took it. Minji didn’t look away.
She chewed slowly, eyes lowering. “You’re bossy.”
Minji gave her a small smile. “You need someone to be.”
Back at the dorm, the group dispersed slowly. Hyein was first to crash, grumbling about an early alarm. Danielle stayed up brushing her teeth for too long, blasting trot music from her phone. Haerin curled into her blankets with a podcast in her ears.
Eventually, the lights dimmed.
Hanni sat alone on the living room couch, pretending to scroll through her phone.
She stared at the same text from earlier all over again:
“ You’re not sunshine. You’re spotlight addiction. Give someone else a chance.”
Her thumb hovered over the screen. Then she turned it off.
Silence.
She stayed there for another five minutes before quietly slipping into her room.
It was well past 1 a.m. when Minji stirred in her bed.
She hadn’t been able to sleep — not really. Her body was tired, but her thoughts kept turning in slow, tight circles. Hanni’s quiet. Hanni’s trembling hands. Hanni’s laughter that didn’t reach her eyes.
She got up to get some water, her socks making soft shushing sounds against the wood floor.
As she passed Hanni’s door, she heard it.
A low, soft strumming.
Guitar.
Minji paused. She hadn’t heard Hanni play in months — not since their pre-debut dorm days when the members were too nervous to sleep and Hanni would play lullabies on the floor.
But this wasn’t a lullaby.
The chords were slow and rough, a little uneven, like her fingers weren’t trying to impress anyone. They were just trying to let something out.
Minji hesitated a moment longer, then knocked gently.
There was a pause. Then Hanni’s voice, soft but not surprised: “Come in.”
Minji opened the door quietly.
The room was dim, lit only by a single desk lamp. Hanni sat on the floor cross-legged, guitar across her lap. Her hair was still damp from her earlier shower, strands sticking to her cheek. She looked tired. Honest.
A small open notebook sat beside her — scrawled with half-formed lyrics and doodles in the margins. Her eyes flicked up as Minji entered, then dropped back to her guitar.
“I didn’t wake you, did I?” she asked.
Minji shook her head and sat down across from her. “Didn’t sleep.”
Hanni strummed a gentle intro. Not random chords. A song.
Minji recognized it halfway through the first verse.
“Wildflower.”
Billie Eilish. Raw, exposed, beautiful.
Hanni’s voice barely rose above a whisper as she sang the second verse, breath trembling at the edges.
' Did I cross the line? Mm, hm Well, good things don′t last And life moves so fast I'd never ask who was better 'Cause she couldn′t be More different from me Happy and free in leather And I know that you love me You don′t need to remind me Wanna put it all behind me, but, .......'
Her voice caught. She let the final chord ring out, then stopped.
Minji didn’t speak right away. The space between them held everything.
“You feel like that?” Minji asked quietly.
Hanni gave a small nod. “Sometimes.”
Minji looked at the guitar. “That song’s sad.”
“I know.”
“It’s honest.”
Hanni shrugged. “It’s easier than writing my own tonight.”
Minji nodded, then leaned forward a little, folding her hands. “You don’t have to explain. I get it.”
Hanni watched her for a long second. Then looked away. “You always do.”
“I don’t think anyone really sees this version of you,” Minji said.
Hanni shrugged. “Why would they want to?”
“I do.”
The words weren’t loud. They didn’t need to be.
Hanni looked away, then back again. Her next words were almost a whisper. “You’re the only one who’s ever heard that song.”
Minji nodded. “Then I’m honored.”
Another long pause. The guitar rested in Hanni’s lap like it was part of her.
“Do you hate me a little?” she asked suddenly.
Minji blinked. “Why would I?”
“For being like this. Messy. Complicated. Not the version everyone likes.”
Minji gave a soft exhale and leaned her head back against the wall.
“I like the quiet Hanni too,” she said. “Maybe even more.”
Hanni stared at her for a long moment. Then, without saying anything, she picked up the guitar again.
“Don’t fall asleep,” she murmured. “I might test a sad ballad on you.”
Minji, eyes already closed, replied, “I’m not going anywhere.”
And she wasn’t.
The music began again, quieter now. Slower. A little less heavy.
Outside, the world kept turning.
But inside that room, in the soft glow of a single lamp, it felt like time had stopped — just long enough for two girls to sit in the quiet, saying everything without saying a word.