Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

The stadium corridor hums like something alive; LED panels cycling through promos for Beautiful Chaos, staff weaving in and out with clipboards, the muffled bass from soundcheck vibrating the floor. Katseye moves through it as a loose cluster, orbiting each other the way they always do before a comeback: a little chaotic, a little hyped, a little sleep-deprived.

Manon walks in the back of the pack, curls down her spine the stylists spent too long arguing about. She rolls her shoulders like she’s trying to shake off static. It’s not nerves. She doesn’t get nervous. It’s… it’s something else she refuses to name.

Sophia’s ahead of her, walking beside Daniela, their heads bent toward each other over some inside joke. Sophia’s bangs are at that awkward in-between length, the kind that keeps fluttering into her eyes unless she tucks them behind her ear, something she’s doing now, laughing at something Daniela whispers.

And Manon hates—actually hates—how her chest tugs at the sight.

She adjusts her mic pack. Looks anywhere else.

Lara falls in step beside her, handing her a water bottle without looking up from her own phone. “You good?”

“Always,” Manon says, flashing a grin that’s mostly muscle memory.

Lara hums, unconvinced but letting it go.

Ahead, Sophia throws her head back laughing, all dimples and careless light.

Manon’s smile flickers.

Yeah. This is gonna be a long comeback.

~~

The staff guides them into a waiting room packed with mirrors, garment racks, and cold air that smells like hairspray. Megan is practicing her ad-libs under her breath. Yoonchae is sprawled on the couch with her phone flipped to selfie cam, adjusting her hair for the eighth time.

Sophia and Daniela plop onto the floor near the snack table, trading bites of a protein bar. Their shoulders press together like magnets.

Manon looks away fast.

Lara steps beside her, voice low. “You sure you’re okay?”
“I said yes,” Manon mutters, sharper than intended.
Lara raises one eyebrow. “Alright.”

Manon softens. “Sorry. Just tired.”

“It’s comeback season. We’re all tired.” But Lara nudges her knee against hers. A subtle, grounding touch. “You wanna rehearse the chorus harmonies?”

“Yeah,” Manon says because it’s easier than saying what she actually wants.

What she actually wants is something she can’t even articulate without lying to herself.

Sophia laughs again from across the room, something bright and careless. Daniela leans into her shoulder. Sophia lets her.

Manon picks up her in-ear monitors like they weigh a whole damn universe.

~~

FLASHBACK — last summer

It’s past midnight and the ocean is doing that soft, lazy thing it does when it’s tired too. The group rented a tiny beach house for a week, just them, no managers, no obligations. Someone (probably Megan) insisted they needed “real bonding time,” and Manon hadn’t realized how badly she needed it until she felt her shoulders physically loosen the first day they arrived.

Tonight, everyone’s asleep. Doors shut, lights off. Except for her and Sophia.

They’re on the back deck, legs dangling through the wooden railing, their feet swinging over sand that’s still warm from the day. The sky above them is a smear of stars. Someone’s phone is playing music low, something dreamy and synth-y, like the soundtrack of a long-forgotten teen movie.

Sophia’s hair is loose, long, black, spilling around her like ink. Her bangs are shorter here, skimming her eyebrows, messy in a way that makes her look soft as a sigh.

She leans her head against the railing. “I can’t believe they’re all asleep. It’s barely midnight.”

“It’s two,” Manon says, snorting.
“Oh.” Sophia giggles. “Okay, but still.”

They’re close. Not touching, but close enough that the space between them buzzes like a thing with intent.

Manon nudges her knee against Sophia’s, barely, gently. Testing.
Sophia doesn’t pull away.

Sophia’s voice drops. “Do you ever wonder… like… what our lives would’ve been if none of this happened?”
“Katseye?”
“Yeah.”

Manon thinks. “I think I’d be bored as hell.”

Sophia laughs again, quiet, breathy. “Same.”

A long moment slips by. The kind that feels charged, like the air before a storm.

Sophia doesn’t say anything, but she turns her face toward Manon. Not fully. Just enough that their shoulders brush. Just enough that Manon feels heat climb the back of her neck.

Sophia’s voice softens. “I like nights like this.”

“Yeah,” Manon whispers. “Me too.”

Another moment. Another breath. Another almost.

If either of them leaned in—

But they don’t.

Instead, Sophia leans her head on Manon’s shoulder. Casual. Natural. Like it's the most obvious thing in the world.

Manon forgets how to breathe.

And Sophia stays there until they fall asleep under the stars, the ocean whispering below them like it knows something they don’t.

~~

BACK TO PRESENT — beautiful chaos era

Sophia doesn’t sit by her during the group interview.

Manon notices immediately. She pretends she doesn’t.

The six of them line up on stools, matching outfits designed to look effortless but costing someone’s salary. The interviewer asks about the album’s concept, their inspiration, their new sound.

Daniela answers first, glancing at Sophia when she mentions “growth.”
Sophia smiles at her: small, private.

Manon watches that smile like it’s a bruise she keeps pressing to see if it still hurts.

When the mic gets passed to her, she snaps back to reality.

“Manon?” the interviewer says, prompting.

She clears her throat. “The album feels… honest. Like it came from the version of us that isn’t curated.”

Lara glances at her with something like pride. Manon gives her a small smile.

Sophia doesn’t look her way.

~~

After the interview they break for a late dinner in the green room. Everyone’s loud, decompressing, cracking jokes. Sophia sits between Daniela and Megan, pulling her hair into a messy half-tie while she talks. Manon finds herself watching the movement; hands threading through soft black strands, pushing overgrown bangs behind her ear.

Her stomach twists.

She forces her gaze away, focusing on Lara’s story about some stylist mix-up involving mismatched boots. She laughs, nudges Lara’s shoulder, makes it look easy.

She’s good at that.

But then she hears Sophia’s voice soft, familiar behind her.

“Lara, can you pass the chips?”

Lara turns, grabs them, hands them across Manon’s back without thinking.

Sophia’s fingers brush Manon’s spine barely, accidentally, but real.

Manon freezes.

Sophia doesn’t.

“Thanks,” she says lightly, already turning back to Daniela.

Manon exhales slowly, like the air left her body in a rush.

~~

When they finally get dismissed for the night, the hallway is quiet except for distant hums from the stage.

Manon steps out last, rolling her shoulders. Sophia is ahead, walking with Daniela again. Their hands brush. On purpose or not… Manon can’t tell.

Lara bumps Manon’s hip with hers. “We’re carpooling, right?”
“Yeah,” Manon says.

But her eyes: traitorous, stupid, stay locked on Sophia.

She watches Sophia laugh at something Daniela says. Watches her tuck her hair behind her ear. Watches her not look back even once.

And Manon thinks—
We don’t talk anymore. Not really.

She hates how true it feels.

The flash of last summer flickers in her mind: the stars, the ocean, Sophia’s head on her shoulder.

A version of them that felt possible.

Before everything shifted. Before lines blurred and blurred again. Before they both pretended the blurring didn’t exist.

Manon closes her eyes.

Yeah. Something’s pulling them back.

Even if they don’t talk about it.

Even if they don’t talk at all.

Chapter Text

The morning after their first comeback stage is always weird; too much adrenaline leftover, too little sleep, the kind of exhaustion that feels like buzzing under the skin instead of heaviness.

Sophia wakes up in the dorm with that exact buzz.

Her phone is filled with tagged clips from the performance, edits of her parts, fancams from angles she doesn’t even understand how fans accessed. Normally she loves scrolling through them, it feels grounding, seeing their work through other eyes.

But today it makes her chest ache.

Because every time she scrolls, she sees Manon.

Not on purpose. Not because she’s searching for her. It’s just… Manon is in the frame a lot. The editors always seem to catch them in the same shot, even now that they look everywhere except at each other.

And it’s stupid—so stupid—but it makes Sophia feel like someone is documenting a ghost.

Like there’s a version of them captured accidentally, even though that version doesn’t exist anymore.

Sophia swipes out of the app, flips over, buries her face in her pillow, and lets out a groan that’s way too dramatic for someone who just woke up.

Yoonchae, already in full makeup somehow, pauses at the door. “You good?”
“Thriving,” Sophia muffles.
“You look like you’re fighting for your life.”
“I am.”

Yoonchae laughs, soft and kind, and leaves.

Sophia rolls onto her back and stares at the ceiling, bangs sticking up in weird directions. She should get up. She should start on hair and makeup. She should pretend her heartbeat didn’t jump last night when Manon laughed at something Lara said.

But she can’t stop thinking about—

No. She shakes her head hard.

She’s not doing this today.

Except she is. Because she always does.

—

The team vans pick them up for a late-morning radio show. Sophia sits between Megan and Daniela in the back row. Megan is rambling about some TikTok trend that Sophia only understands half of; Daniela keeps nodding along while scrolling through her phone.

Sophia laughs and contributes and plays along—she’s good at that—but there’s this tiny, traitorous awareness in her peripheral vision.

Manon.

Front row. Window seat. Curls piling around her shoulders like she’s starring in her own music video. She’s leaning her head back, eyes half-closed, humming something under her breath.

Probably some new melody she’s messing with. Manon always hums melodies when she thinks no one’s paying attention.

Sophia tries not to listen. She fails.

Daniela nudges her. “You spaced out.”
“Sorry, I was just thinking about choreo,” Sophia lies.

Daniela accepts it easily, which Sophia appreciates but also… hates a little.

Last summer, Manon wouldn’t have accepted that answer. She’d give Sophia a look—quiet, patient, knowing—and wait until Sophia told the truth.

Now Manon doesn’t even turn around.

And Sophia hates how much that difference stings.

And hated how it was her fault.

~~

During the radio segment, the host asks their usual questions: album themes, favorite tracks, who cried in the studio, who eats the snacks fastest, blah blah blah.

Sophia laughs in the right places. She answers smoothly. When the host asks who everyone grew closest to during the hiatus, she says:

“Daniela,” without hesitation. Because it’s true. Daniela has been a soft place to land these past months, a steady presence, someone who listens without asking for anything messy in return.

The host nods. “Nice. Who were you attached at the hip with this past summer?”

The question hits Sophia’s chest like a drop in an elevator.

She smiles bright and careless, the way idols are supposed to when something hits too close. “Honestly? Everyone. We were all together the whole time.”

A lie that tastes too much like nostalgia.

There’s a beat; a tiny, stupid beat, where she wonders if Manon will say something. Joke about beach nights or late-night snacks or matching sunburns. Anything that acknowledges they were, for a while, galaxies pulling each other into orbit.

But Manon just takes a sip of water, expression unreadable.

Sophia’s stomach goes cold.

~~

After the schedule, everyone crashes into the practice room to run through choreo notes for tomorrow. The room is cold, mirrors fogging when they breathe too hard. Speakers thrum with the bassline of their title track.

Sophia dances well; muscle memory, professionalism, instinct. But every time she turns, it feels like she’s catching glimpses of someone she used to know.

Manon is sharper this era. Fiercer. And the confidence looks so good on her it’s annoying.

At break, Sophia sits against the wall, stretching her legs. Daniela drops beside her, sipping iced coffee. Megan and Yoonchae argue over snack flavors by the door.

Manon walks past to grab water. Lara follows, laughing at some inside joke between them. Their shoulders bump. Manon smiles a small, relaxed smile Sophia hasn’t seen aimed at her in months.

Something in Sophia’s throat goes tight.

Daniela glances at her.
Sophia forces a smile.

She isn’t sure Daniela believes her. She isn’t sure she believes herself.

—

FLASHBACK — last summer (Sophia’s POV)

It’s the third night in the beach house and everyone is sunburned, sleepy, and talking over each other in the living room. Music floats from someone’s speaker, half-buried under laughter.

Sophia sits cross-legged on the floor, trying to braid Megan’s hair while Megan keeps wiggling.

Manon walks in from the kitchen holding two popsicles: one mango, one cherry.

“Which one do you want?” she asks.

Sophia blinks. “You… got one for me?”
Manon looks at her like she’s being weird. “Of course, babe.”

Her heartbeat does something reckless.

Sophia picks the mango one. Manon smiles like she knew she would.

They join the others on the floor. The group buzzes around them with noise and warmth, but Sophia feels every detail of Manon beside her; the heat from her shoulder, the soft curl brushing her own arm whenever Manon leans forward, the faint coconut scent from her sunscreen.

Manon taps her knee suddenly. “Wanna go for a walk?”

Sophia’s popsicle drips onto her wrist. “Right now?”
“Yeah. Before everyone starts another movie.”
Sophia laughs. “That’s a crime against cinema.”
“I’ll risk it.”

Sophia follows her out onto the sand, leaving the chatter behind. The sky is a deep indigo, stars scattered like someone flicked paint across it.

Manon kicks off her sandals. “Race you to the waterline.”
“You’re gonna lose.”
“We’ll see about that.”

They sprint—badly, laughing so hard they trip over their own steps. When they reach the water, Manon splashes her lightly. Sophia squeals and kicks at the surf, splashing back.

It’s stupid. It’s childish. It’s perfect.

They collapse onto the shore, breathless and wet and glowing under the moon.

Manon rolls onto her side, eyes tracing the horizon. “Feels like nothing else exists right now.”

Sophia’s chest goes soft, achy. “Yeah.”

“You ever think…” Manon hesitates. “That some moments aren’t supposed to be shared with everyone?”

Sophia turns her head toward her. Their faces are inches apart. “Like… moments that feel private even if they’re not?”

“Exactly.”

Sophia’s heart beats too loud. Too fast. She feels something between them shift—quiet but huge. Like the tide.

For a second, Sophia thinks—

Is she…? Are we…?

But Manon just smiles, soft and unguarded in a way she never is on camera.

Sophia feels warmth spread through her like a secret.

She wants to stay in this moment forever.

And maybe that’s where everything started. Or maybe it started before that, and neither of them noticed until too late.

—

BACK TO PRESENT — beautiful chaos era

Practice finishes late. The room empties in a slow trickle.

Sophia stays behind to redo a transition. She messes it up twice, which never happens.

She hears footsteps approaching and glances up instinctively.

For the first time all day—maybe all week—Manon is looking at her.

Just looking. Quiet. Observing.

Not avoiding.

Their eyes meet in the mirror, not in real life.

It still makes Sophia’s pulse flip.

Manon hesitates like she might say something.

But Lara calls her name from the hallway, and whatever almost-moment existed dissolves instantly.

Manon turns away. “Coming!”

And just like that—
Sophia is alone again in the echo of what could’ve been.