Rosebud

You can hear the chaos from the other room. It’s loud. Endearingly loud.

Twelve girls laughing, cracking jokes in front of a phone camera, making so much clamor that can warrant a call from neighbors for a noise complaint.

In a way, it’s not that different from your time in college. Their camaraderie is not far off too.

So, in essence, you’re pretty much home. And it’s as warm and welcoming as it always has.

“Gosh! I don’t! Shut up!” Sakura yells out, much to the amusement of everyone else.

“It’s too obvious, Kkura,” Chaeyeon says, slapping her thigh. “Just tell him. While he’s still there.”

“Yes, Sakura,” Eunbi adds. “Every time he holds your hand, we can see your blush—”

“You don’t have to say it out loud!” Sakura blurts, again, to the laughter of the other girls. “What if he’s listening—”

“He knows. He just doesn’t tell, because—” interrupts Minju, trying to suppress her chuckle to no avail. “He's—”

“Yes, I know! It’s weird. I know it’s weird. I can’t help it though! He’s so cute!”

“Then go on and confess it to him in private,” Eunbi states. “If you don’t, then—you won’t be able to have the closure you need. Even if he says no—”

“Yeah. That’s what I’ve been afraid of.”

“Kkura,” Hyewon sighs. The voices have gone from erratically loud to a modest, somber low. It’s a change so sudden it’s unsettling. “It happens. Nothing personal for him, it’s just a job. He likely doesn’t feel the same way.”

“You don’t have to remind me—”

The room goes eerily silent. The sniffles and sobs begin.

Without drawing attention from any of the twelve, you gently peek through the room next door where they’d been gathered. You see it: Sakura surrounded by her sisters-in-arms, not exactly in one large embrace, but providing comfort all the same. Between the jokes and laughs, they’re standing together through trials and tribulations as a united front.

That’s how they’ve survived. And how they’ll thrive when their time is up.

Four months from now, they won’t share the same dorm. Three of them will have to fly home to Japan. Their fates—uncertain. Some have futures so bright, others not as crystal clear. But one thing is for sure: this was a moment in history, a moment in time that will forever be part of their lives—and also yours.

Because you were there. With them. Through the darkness and the light.

Watching Sakura’s tears fall—you can’t help but quietly sob too. For as much as you respected her, you loved her just as much. The same goes for the others, but knowing how much she admired you and crushed on you in secret, there’s something different.

Suddenly, the door creaks. Everyone’s eyes snap wide, turning in the direction of the noise. You.

Instinctively, you duck away, acting like you hadn’t overheard the last 20 minutes or so of their conversation. Pretending to do your usual: evening checks of their dorm and monitoring their streams from behind the camera to make sure they don’t go overboard, like they typically do.

Eunbi is the first to emerge from the room. “Manager?”

You’re already by the kitchen when she calls out your name. “Yeah?”

“We’re done going live. You may leave whenever you’re done here.”

“Of course, Eunbi.” You’re curt and professional about it, ignoring the elephant in the room. “Still loud as ever.”

She can’t help but shake her head and smile. “You’re gonna miss us, right?”

You pause. Blink a few times, suddenly thrust with the inevitable. “That’s still—four months away.”

“I know.” She’s so casual about it, though it’s clear through her tone that she shouldn’t be speaking of these things, even if it’s on the horizon.

“Well—” you clear your throat. “Then, take it one day at a time.”

“Easier said than done,” she answers. “I wish—I’ve been saying it to the girls too, but—”

Approaching her, you pat her shoulder reassuringly. “Just cause I seem cold and professional around you sometimes doesn’t mean I struggle to not think about it too. You girls somehow made being a manager actually fun.”

Eunbi blushes; her grin reaches from ear to ear. “Aww. That’s a lovely thing to hear from you.”

Even from a distance, you can feel them: the others, quietly observing from behind the other room’s door.

“You can come out. That applies to all of you.”

One by one, the other members file out and bow respectfully as they converge behind their leader. Their smiles range from modest and shy to wide, cheeky. The meaning remains the same however: appreciative and sincere.

“Let’s make these last four months count.”

“Of course!” They all say in unison.

“Well, how about getting yourselves some dinner first,” you say. “Tonight, it’s on the house. I’ll pay for it.”

“Yay!”

While the other eleven girls chow down at a nearby restaurant Yena suggested, you quietly asked Sakura to follow you outside. There were no jokes or little jabs when you took her out; everyone’s assuming—or acting—like this was merely a personal matter between manager and idol.

At the front entrance, close enough to be seen by the other members, Sakura is fidgeting. Anxious. Expectant. Thankfully, they’re too engrossed in conversation to check.

“So—Sakura,” you say, after a deep, heavy sigh. “I have something important to say.”

She gulps her throat. Normally, this should make her feel safe; it’s just instructions or reminders about activities and schedules. “What is it?”

Even through your steely, detached mask, you’re equally, if not more nervous. Because you don’t want to hurt her at her lowest, you might as well drive a stake through her heart with what you’re about to say.

“I—I overheard your conversation with the girls earlier,” you start, unable to look her directly in the eyes. “About— me.”

“What?” Her voice rises in shock. Her cheeks blister a bright red. “Does that mean—”

“I’ve known since—since the beginning, all these feelings you’ve got for me.”

“So—so does it mean—” she can’t believe it, even with all these warnings and signs.

You suck in a deep breath, taking a few more steps back from her, putting distance. This will be much easier if you weren’t so, so attached to her.

“What I have for you is strictly professional and platonic. At the most, I feel like a sibling to you.”