Years after Jennie cut her out without explanation, Y/N has built her life around control and routine. But fate doesn't care about walls, does it? Y/N told herself she'd moved on, she told herself Jennie was just a chapter closed. But some people don't stay gone and some feelings, no matter how wrong, refuse to die.
The office was too quiet for a Tuesday. Late light bled in through the blinds, throwing narrow stripes across her desk, across the neat stack of MEOVV rehearsal notes she'd been living in for the past week. Her laptop screen glowed with the latest adjustments, cursor blinking patiently over a half-typed change she hadn't decided on yet.
Her iced coffee had been sitting long enough for the ice to melt, a thin ring of water bleeding into the corner of the papers. She should move it. She didn't.
The phone buzzed against the wood.
Teddy
She straightened automatically, shoulders back like she was on camera. "Hey."
"Got a thing for you," Teddy said, all casual drawl, like this was just another Tuesday call. "You used to be one of the Jennie assistant managers for so long, you're doing great at TBL, so YG wants you to handle Jisoo for their upcoming comeback and world tour. We're good with it. It's a big opportunity, we've seen how you handle pressure, this is the perfect way to check how you do running point on something as big as the Blackpink tour."
Her pen froze mid-scribble.
Jisoo.
The name was fine on its own, she liked Jisoo. Professional, easy to work with. But attached to it, like an echo that wouldn't stop, came the word that shifted the air in her lungs.
Blackpink.
And Blackpink meant her.
It was like a door she'd locked creaked open on its own, the faintest sliver of light spilling through. All she could think was the sharp curve of a smile she'd trained herself to forget, the way certain perfume notes still made her throat tighten, how silence had settled over her phone after that last night in 2023.
"Y/N?" Teddy's voice cut in.
She blinked, finding her voice, keeping it smooth. "Yeah, sure. I can do it."
"Good. Start in the next few days, so pass all the MEOVV notes and instructions to the rest of the team. First thing, be on set for the MV next week. We'll handle your contract and the formalities before that."
"Got it."
She lowered the phone slowly, setting it beside the coffee. Her eyes found the spreadsheet on her screen, but the names and times swam together. Her fingers were still curled around the pen. She forced them to loosen, dropped it onto the desk, and sat back.
She told herself she was just thinking about work.
She didn't believe it.
The MV set smelled like hairspray, fresh paint, and the faint tang of coffee. Cables snaked across the floor, taped down in thick black lines. Crew voices bounced off the high ceilings, mixing with metallic clink of lighting being adjusted.
Y/N slipped through it easily. She knew this kind of space, where to step to stay out of the shot, which corners you could linger in. A few stylists and camera assistants she recognized from past work called out quick hellos. She gave them the same in return, never breaking stride.
Jisoo's prep room was tucked away from the chaos, the singer was in the middle of hair sectioning, idly scrolling her phone with one hand while a stylist worked.
"You're early," Jisoo said, glancing up with a grin that softened her already warm expression.
"You're one to talk," Y/N replied, leaning a hip against the counter. "Figured I'd come check in before the day really starts spinning."
They'd already talked this through last week, Jisoo had been the one to suggest meeting in person before the madness started. The catch up had been easy, natural. Jisoo liked the idea of having Y/N as her manager for the tour and comeback, and Y/N liked working with someone who didn't need hand holding.
"How's the hair torture going?" Y/N asked, watching a long strand get straightened and pinned.
Jisoo made a face in the mirror. "It's fine. Ask me again in an hour."
They traded quiet conversation, a half joking complaint from Jisoo about a last-minute choreography tweak, Y/N promising to flag it with the performance director later. It was comfortable, grounded.
But underneath, that low static in Y/N's chest never faded.
The call sheet for today's filming was burned into her brain, every member's name in neat black type. She'd scanned it over breakfast, again in the car, once more before walking inside. Jennie's name had sat there, unremarkable on paper, heavy in her head.
Some time soon, Jennie will be somewhere in this building, sitting in a chair like this one. Maybe laughing with her staff, maybe scrolling through her phone with the same absent frown she used to wear between takes. Every shift of footsteps in the hallway sounded too close. Every burst of laughter made her pulse jump.
She kept her expression easy for Jisoo's sake, eyes on the notes as if it held all her attention, but every sound outside the room felt like a countdown.
The lighting check for Jisoo's set was running late.
Y/N stood near the edge of the stage with the coordinator, the director, and Jisoo at her side as they discussed how the tones should hit during the prechorus. The door at the far end of the room swung open, letting in a brief draft of cooler air from the hallway. Voices followed, mid conversation, low laughter threading between them.
Jennie was in the middle of them, walking beside Alison. They were talking quietly, heads tipped just enough toward each other to keep it private.
It wasn't until they reached the edge of the set that Jennie's eyes lifted, and found Y/N.
For a split second, the conversation with Alison stopped midbreath. Something flickered across her face, too quick for anyone else to catch. Alison noticed too, but in her case, her whole expression lit up.
"Oh my God! Y/N!" She excused herself from Jennie's side and crossed the few steps to pull Y/N into a quick hug.
"Alison," Y/N managed, surprised but smiling. "It's been forever."
"How are you? You look great," Alison said, holding her by the arms for a second before letting go.
Jennie had stopped just a few feet away, not daring to step closer. Her gaze stayed fixed on Y/N, unreadable, as if she was still deciding what to say, or if she should say anything at all.
Finally, she did. "Hi."
"Hi," Y/N said back, keeping her voice level, professional.
Jennie's eyes lingered for a heartbeat too long, enough for Y/N to feel the weight of it trace over her face, pause at her mouth, then slip away. Jennie turned back to Alison, murmuring something Y/N couldn't hear before the team guided her toward wardrobe.
Y/N glanced back down at her tablet, nodding along to something the stage coordinator was saying about the final light cue. But the words barely landed. Her pulse had gone loud in her ears, the thrum of it syncing with the slow fade of Jennie's perfume as it drifted past.
By afternoon, the set had shifted into that restless lull between takes. Wardrobe racks stood in half-shadow, zippers glinting in the low light. Crew clustered in corners, voices pitched low, saving their energy for the next burst of work. The faint thump of a bassline being tested drifted from the stage.
Y/N moved through it on autopilot, ticking boxes and checking Jisoo's schedule against the shooting board taped to the wall. She was halfway past the open lounge area when the sound stopped her in her tracks.
Lisa was draped sideways across a couch, holding her phone up for Jennie. Something on the screen pulled an open, bright laugh from her, the kind that didn't just echo, it wrapped around you. It hit Y/N in the ribs before she could brace, sharp and dizzying. She hadn't heard that laugh in over a year, but her body remembered the exact way it felt, like sunlight you could touch.
It was so easy. Too easy.
And it wasn't hers anymore.
Jennie didn't notice her at first, too busy leaning in to see whatever Lisa was showing. Y/N forced herself to keep walking, pulse thrumming, jaw tight. She didn't trust herself to slow down.
Rosé was at the catering table a few steps ahead, head bowed over her phone, brow faintly furrowed.
"Don't feel like tteokbokki for lunch, Chae?" Y/N asked, stepping beside her.
Rosé glanced up, the frown slipping into a smile. "Not unless you want me falling asleep before the next take. Just deciding where to order from. Remember that place near Hannam you made me try two months ago?"
"The one with the criminally good croissants?" Y/N let herself smile back.
They fell into that easy rhythm, trading food suggestions, quick jabs about the café's comically slow service. The banter felt safe, warm, no jagged edges, no history to cut her open. But somewhere between debating sandwiches or pasta, it came. That prickling awareness along her skin, like stepping into sunlight after a shadow. The slow pull of being watched.
She didn't need to look. She never needed to.
She'd learned that certain gazes didn't just land, they stayed. They pressed into you until you felt every inch of your skin turn conscious, until the air itself seemed to narrow around your body.
Jennie's eyes were on her now.
She could feel it in the space between her shoulder blades, in the way her voice wanted to catch mid-sentence. Jennie didn't just look. She held, and Y/N hated how well she could still recognize it. How her pulse changed without permission.
The words between her and Rosé kept flowing, but her body was rigid under the casual pose. She shifted her weight, eyes flicking to the catering menu on the table, pretending to study it.
She made it through the rest of the day on autopilot. By wrap, the weight hadn't budged. It followed her home, into the shower steam, into sleep that never got deep.
Days blurred in the same dull hum, emails sent, calls returned, nothing solved. When the 10:00 A.M. calendar alert lit her phone TOUR BLOCK REVIEW, the elevator doors opened on cold glass and white light.
The conference room on the top floor of YG felt more like a war room than a meeting space, all sharp lines and cold light. A long table stretched between them, lined with identical bottles of water and neat stacks of paper. On the wall, the projector cast a crisp mock-up of the DEADLINE setlist. Tour dates in a clean vertical column on the left, song titles lined up like soldiers on the right.
Y/N slid into her seat beside Jisoo, already unlocking her tablet. Jisoo glanced at her, lips curving in a small, steady smile, the kind a teammate gives before the whistle blows.
The rest of the room was a low hum, managers trading notes, the tour director thumbing through a thick folder. YG himself sat at the far end, hands folded, scanning the schedule like it was a stock report.
Jennie was across the table, between Lisa and Alison. She looked up once as Y/N settled into her chair, not long enough to count as staring, not quick enough to pass as nothing, and then angled herself slightly toward Lisa, murmuring something Y/N couldn't hear. Lisa's mouth twitched in amusement.
Y/N kept her eyes on the screen as the meeting started, pen moving in neat, controlled lines. Song order, talk segments, transition notes. She made margin comments for Jisoo's parts, costume change intervals, lighting cue points, possible trims to the interlude. The kind of work that kept her hands busy and her mind focused.
But every so often, when she shifted in her seat or asked Jisoo something quietly, she could feel it. The prickle of eyes from across the table. Not constant, not obvious. Just enough to make her skin aware of itself. Jennie's voice cut in here and there, a note about her stage visuals, a question for the director about live camera angles. Clear, efficient, never directed to Y/N.
When the tour director pulled up the VCR sequences, Y/N spoke for the first time to the room. "For Jisoo's intro, can we confirm the final timestamp? The last draft came in five seconds short of her stage entrance." Her voice was even, professional.
And there it was, the shift.
A subtle weight from across the table, like the air had tilted. She didn't look up, but she didn't need to. She knew how it felt to be under that gaze. Sharp, assessing, patient in a way that wasn't patience at all. Like Jennie was studying her for signs of something.
The conversation moved on, voices blending into the steady hum of logistics and planning. Y/N kept her eyes on the setlist, but under it all the tension threaded through her ribs, pulled tight, holding.
The rehearsal studio was massive, built to hold a stage almost as big as the one they'd take on tour. The air was cool from the AC, carrying the faint smell of coffee and metal, steel rigging, mic stands, trusses. Walls rose high above them, swallowing sound in a way that made every laugh or raised voice carry twice as far.
Y/N walked in alongside Jisoo, their footsteps muted against the flooring. Crew members were already moving through the space, rolling out cables, testing monitors, marking positions on the taped floor plan. Somewhere near the back, a tech was running a soundcheck, bass notes low and steady like a heartbeat.
And then she saw her.