Nightbloom

“Hi, baby!”

Pet names are a turn-off for you, if you were to be honest. They just feel forced. You’ve always had the notion that couples who do that are simply doing so for show. It’s easy to assume that when all your friends started to get their own girlfriends at an early age, and paraded it around you like a damned posy. Hi, babe! No, babe! Thanks, love! Your ears burned with annoyance (and maybe with a little awkward jealousy) everytime.

The tables have turned over the years, though, all because of Sakura. With her, it’s…. different. It feels different.

You catch the sweet nicknames slipping from your mouth whenever you’re with her without even consciously deciding to say them beforehand. It feels natural. Easy. Nothing out of the ordinary.

It feels real.

Your girlfriend—(oh wait, fiancé, you correct yourself, with much pleasure as you glance at the gold engagement ring around her ring finger)—is a beauty even through a screen and with the relative darkness of her apartment. You let your eyes take pleasure in observing the color like that of dark honey following the curls of her hair, the slope of her perfect nose, and her round, happy eyes. Now you understand how her fans fell in love with her, although most have never met her.

Sakura smiles that perfect first-love smile of hers. She’s lying on her stomach in bed. One of her hands is left to play alone with the white duvet because the other is raising a pointer against her lips. “Shhh, some stalkers might be listening. You know how it is with crazy fans these days.”

You pout exaggeratedly, although you weren’t hurt by her reason. It’s perfectly rational. Too many cases of celebrity doxxing in this age by people with misplaced grudges. You don’t want to accidentally ruin Sakura’s reputation when her career is at its peak.

“Awww, are you ashamed of me, Saku-chan?” you ask. You watch her giggling reaction, even when the halls of the building start to curve. It doesn’t matter; you know the building map by heart. “‘Le Sserafim Sakura Caught with Loser and Lesser Boyfriend’! Oh, just imagine the headlines.”

Sakura’s eyebrows knot together then release their tension immediately, the way they do when she gets trapped in a bout of laughter. She slams her hands on the mattress in mock frustration. “Okay, first of all, you’re my fiancè. And second, of course you’re not a loser! You know I love you more than my entire career. You are more important than it—or anything else.”

You roll your eyes playfully and theatrically look away to hide the red in your cheeks. You don’t know how you become such a schoolgirl in love when Sakura says such cute things. One “I love you” from her, and you’re a blushing mess. Oh, and don’t forget “But pleaaaseee, oppa!”. God, that just ruins you.

But you can’t exactly put all the blame on yourself. In the dynamic of your relationship, Sakura is the better one with her words. That is why she’s Le Sserafim’s co-leader, after all, standing beside Kim Chaewon when she needs it. Her intelligence and natural charisma are one-of-a-kind talents by themselves.

“Oh, stop the sweet nothings.”

You get inside the elevator the moment its gray metal doors part. You arrived here just in time. What’s even more perfect is that you’re alone, meaning you can talk to Sakura freely without worrying about your relationship being found out.

The mini screen just below the mirror ceiling spells out “10” in red, cyber font. Only nine floors to go and you’re at your destination. Somehow the font reminds you of the one in Æspa’s Girls music video. Next level.

You laugh at your own pun. Sakura would pretend to throw up if you said it to her. You would have liked to do that, anyway, but you do not want to hint at then potentially ruin the surprise you have for her.

“How’s everything going, Kkura? With that situation and all?”

Sakura knows what you mean by the stressed word, and her features immediately show a sudden onset stress of their own. The smile has disappeared from her face. Sakura lets out a loud sigh and shakes her head, resting her temple against her propped hand.

“Oh god, baby, it’s all so fucking awful,” she complains. “I don’t even know how Chaewon deals with it. We all had a meeting together, in the… the… what’s the Korean word for that again? The goddamned pri—”

That’s where your use comes in as a trilingual boyfriend. “Private room? The private meeting room?” you pipe in.

“Yeah! That’s what it is. It’s only for super important meetings, like only the CEO and his colleagues go there. But he called for us in there, and said that her contract was exterminated.”

“That’s a good thing, isn’t it? But why did they only do that now?”

“I really don’t get it. It’s an exclusive contract. It’s easier to end it more than people think. But they waited for…” Sakura shakes her head, sighing heavily. “No, I’m sorry. I’m getting ahead of myself, aren’t I?”

No matter how angry she gets, Sakura knows when to keep herself in check. That’s how she makes sure to never start spewing too much emotion-slurred nonsense. It’s a remarkable trait of hers, but sometimes you wish that she expresses her feelings more, without the fear of hurting anyone else’s.

Out of all the people in this world, Miyawaki Sakura deserves the freedom to her own thoughts and emotions the most. And you stand by that.

“No, no, it’s perfectly reasonable,” you console her. Dash a look at the mini screen again—12th floor—before you return your focus to your fiancé. “I mean, you and Chaewon worked so hard for this. You have the right to be angry more than anyone else. I mean, I would be, too.”

Over the past few weeks, after much questioning, Sakura had hesitantly expressed her concerns to you about the conflicts in the group caused by the scandals her co-member had. It turned out that she had bullied quite a number of people during her middle school days, and they are finally starting to speak up. Worst of all, Hybe is doing a shitty job of lying about it. For a big company, they are sadly incompetent.

It was even more painful for her since the both of you were apart. She was in the final stages of preparation for her debut, so she had to commit a lot of time for practice. “I want to show people a better Miyawaki Sakura,” she had once stressed to you. “The one who grew stronger and improved in all aspects.”

“And they will see that woman the moment you get on stage” was your reply. “Just trust me. They will be so proud of you.”

You weren’t able to console her and give advice in person, so you had resorted to text messages reminding her to eat and to rest. You hoped that your love was clear as glass through the little things you do, even if it was mostly virtual.

Now that the contract is invalid, Sakura is in a confusing state of relief and panic. It’s an odd feeling to have both positive and negative emotions, two polar opposite senses, merge together like that. And it isn’t a pretty thing to feel at all, you are sure of that. You’ve seen the way it affected her—the five anxious voice messages sent to you in a span of three minutes, her lack of appetite, and the guilt. The guilt of feeling happy now that her member was kicked out, even if she had wronged her in the first place.

“I’m so fucking scared, babe,” says Sakura sadly. She runs her fingers through her hair, then props her chin back on the center of her palm. “I have everything I dreamed of, but having it is harder than I thought it would be.”

“Don’t stress it too much. It’s over, and people will still support you. And so will the girls. How are they treating the situation?”

“Oh, Chaewon was very formal about it, but you can tell part of her was happy it was over. Kazuha was an angel to her, as she usually is. Yunjin took it a little harsher.”

You smile. Yunjin is the feistiest out of the five. She was on Produce 48 with Sakura, and towers over her like the animal she is often associated with: a giraffe. Sakura likes to retell her funny moments to you, and even introduced her to you once. It was interesting, to say the least:

“He’s just a friend, Yunjin,” Sakura had purposefully misinformed her, when Yunjin asked about you. Even around her members, she still had to keep it on the hush, so you nodded along with her.

Yunjin had looked at Sakura, back at you again, then at the arm you had wrapped around Sakura’s waist. She raised both of her dark eyebrows amusedly and said, “Good fucking luck with that much denial.”

Now you gaze at Sakura’s stressed face, and think of how much she’s been through. From giving her all in the Japanese industry, to travelling to Korea to pursue bigger opportunities, and now: with a beauty line of her own, ambassadors for many respected brands, and the center of K-pop’s rising star group. Sakura is a visionary; she writes an ideal future in her mind and works hard to make it come to life. In spite of the mess of the scandal and the disbandment of IZ*ONE, she is still standing strong, if not stronger than ever.

You count off the floors left in your head. 13. 14. 15. Should you reveal your big surprise now? Probably. But what if it’s mediocre to her? Or disappointing? Maybe you should have bought her more than ice cream and got an expensive bag for her instead, just like her brands do.

But you aren’t a brand. You’re her fiancé. A non-celebrity one who doesn’t exactly have that much wealth in life compared to the more handsome drama actors and famous male idols. You’re just… a guy. Some lame, unknown guy.

And Sakura is… well, everything. She’s pretty, she’s kind, and worked hard for everything she has now. She’s more successful than you and probably two classes higher. Maybe she’ll become used to the wealthier things in life, and find your little gifts the way they are: little.

Just thinking about it makes your heart ache anxiously. You want to make Sakura happy. Will just you succeed in doing that by simply being there?

“Well, if it makes you feel better….” you begin, tapping your foot on the smooth floor of the elevator.

“Yes?” Sakura’s big eyes show a new curiosity.

17. 18… 19! “I—I have a surprise for you.”

Sakura’s adorable face scrunches up in confusion. She spends her time thinking while you use it to quickly pace to her apartment once the elevator doors open. The fragrant scent of the building fills your nostrils.

“Oppa?” Sakura frowns. “Is this another one of your pranks? 'Cause I’m not falling for it.”

You smile. “No, Sakura, I’m not joking.”

“Prove it.”

Her response is the key to the surprise. You walk faster until the familiar dark door with the numbers “720” comes in your path. You’ve only been away for weeks yet her door is already scratched. You suppose it’s the doing of one of the girls’ dogs. The claw prints are harshly imprinted, almost creating a worrying hole. Remind yourself to ask her about what happened to it and offer to fix it for her.