Jennie was leaning against a stack of speakers near the far wall, scrolling slowly through her phone. She looked relaxed, but there was something deliberate in the way she was angled, like she wanted to be seen.
The hoodie she wore stopped Y/N cold.
Black Chrome Hearts.
Her hoodie.
Not just any favorite, no. The one she'd hunted down overseas, worn until the cuffs started to fray, and left behind in Jennie's hotel room on the last tour. Folded neatly on the chair by the window. She'd told herself she'd get it back. She never did.
It hung loose on Jennie now, the sleeves pushed up just enough to show the glint of her bracelets. Y/N knew the exact weight of that fabric, the softness from too many washes, the way it used to smell faintly like her own perfume.
Jennie looked up then, almost like she'd felt the shift in the air, the same way you notice when someone's gaze lands on you in a crowd. Her head lifted, phone still in hand, and for a beat the noise of the studio seemed to dull.
Their eyes met.
It was instant recognition, sharp and mutual, like opening a door you thought had been locked for good. Y/N felt it in her chest first, a strange tightening, heat rising up the back of her neck. Jennie didn't flinch, didn't glance away. Her mouth tilted just enough to break the stillness, a small, deliberate curve. The kind of smirk that didn't need words to say yes, I know exactly what I'm doing.
And she was. This wasn't a coincidence.
The sight of that hoodie on her, her hoodie, hit like a hand closing around her heart. Memories sat just behind her teeth, threatening to spill out, nights that ended with that hoodie draped over her shoulders, mornings when Jennie had worn it half zipped with bed hair and bare legs.
The pull to speak was almost physical. She could feel the words pressing at the back of her throat "That's mine." Or maybe "Still holding onto it?" Something that would admit she'd noticed, that she still cared enough to notice.
But she swallowed them whole.
She wasn't going to give Jennie that win. Not here. Not in front of the girls, the crew, the open room. Without a word, Y/N turned back to Jisoo, letting her voice carry into some easy remark about rehearsal positions as they walked deeper into the space.
From the corner of her eye, she caught it, Jennie sliding her phone into her back pocket, the smirk still playing faintly at her mouth, like she'd gotten exactly what she wanted. The message had been sent. And Y/N had forced herself to leave it unopened, even as it burned a hole through her chest.
A few days later, rehearsal was deep into its rhythm, the kind where everyone knew the order of songs without looking, but the bodies still ached from running them over and over. The huge studio was lit in a soft haze from the rigged stage lights, the taped floor marked with scuffs from sneakers.
They'd just finished another run-through, music cutting abruptly mid-echo. Interns drifted in from the sides with towels and bottles of water.
Lisa dropped onto the edge of the taped stage with a theatrical groan. "If my knees explode before the first show, I'm blaming the choreographer."
"You'll be fine," Y/N teased, walking past her before pausing and turning back. "Actually" she stepped into the open space, squaring her shoulders "it's more like this, right?" She launched into an exaggerated version of Lisa's Rockstar move, hips snapping with ridiculous force, arms hitting each beat with way too much drama
Lisa clapped a hand over her mouth but still snorted into her water. "Yah! I do not look like that!"
"Yes, you do," Jisoo said, barely holding a straight face. "Except she's too good at it."
Y/N grinned, tossing her hair with mock arrogance. "Thank you, I'll take that as a compliment."
Lisa shook her head, still laughing. "I swear, if you keep doing that—"
"You'll have to put me in the dance crew," Y/N cut in, striking one last pose.
Jisoo snorted. "Careful, she might actually take you up on that."
The three of them laughed again, the sound bouncing off the black walls. For a moment, the space felt smaller, warmer, like the tension that had been humming around Y/N all week had finally stepped outside to take a break.
Then she felt it.
That subtle shift in the air, the way conversations falter when someone new steps into the circle. Out of the corner of her eye, a shadow stretched long across the polished floor.
Jennie.
She walked toward them at an unhurried pace, water bottle dangling loosely in one hand. Her expression gave nothing away, smooth, unreadable, but Y/N caught the flick of her gaze as it passed over Lisa, skimmed over Jisoo, and landed on her. Direct. Intentional. Like the whole approach had been aimed at her from the start.
"Y/N," Jennie said evenly, "the tour media backdrop for Jisoo's intro needs to be swapped. Color grading's wrong."
The words dropped clean, professional on the surface. But to Y/N? They felt jagged. Color grading? That wasn't her lane, everyone knew it. Visual design went straight to production, to a manager who wasn't even in this room right now. So why? Why point it at her, in front of everyone? Y/N just stared back, her brain stuttering like she'd missed a cue. Was this a test? A dig? Or just Jennie sliding into her space because she'd seen her with the others?
The silence stretched.
Lisa blinked, confusion flickering across her face before she covered it with a sip of water. Jisoo's brows pulled together for the barest second, her eyes flicking between Jennie and Y/N like she was trying to work out if she'd missed something.
Y/N forced her voice steady. "I'll pass it along." Her voice was even, but it tasted bitter in her mouth, like swallowing something sharp.
Jennie tilted her head, eyes holding hers for a fraction longer than the words required. Long enough to make Y/N feel pinned, like there was something else hanging unspoken in the silence between them. And then she gave the smallest nod and stepped back, turning away without another word. But the air didn't move with her. It stayed thick, heavy, pressing down.
Lisa broke it first, exhaling a laugh that sounded forced. "Well, at least we know someone's paying attention to the colors, huh?"
The joke hung there, thin and awkward, not catching the way her jokes usually did.
Jisoo stood, tugging lightly on Y/N's sleeve. "Come on," she said softly, tilting her head toward the corner of the studio. "We should double check the notes before the next run."
It was an out, and Y/N took it.
As they walked away, phone clutched a little too tightly in her hand, she could still feel it, the weight of Jennie's gaze, lingering between her shoulder blades like a hand that hadn't fully lifted.