between the spolight - purinz ✧

missing piece.

chaewon's pov —

the set was buzzing with energy, lights flashing as the crew prepared for the first take of evie. this song was my chance to show something darker, something raw. the concept was intense, emotional, and i had been looking forward to pouring myself into it.

but today, i felt off. it wasn't the usual nerves before a shoot. it was something deeper, something harder to shake.

i hadn't said it out loud, but a part of me thought yunjin might show up today. not to perform—this wasn't her video—but just to be here. to support me. we hadn't talked much since the you & me photoshoot, but in the back of my mind, i kept hoping that maybe she'd show up, like she always did for the other members when they had big moments.

but she wasn't here.

i stood in front of the mirror, adjusting my costume for the shoot. it felt strange not to see her reflection behind me, giving me a hard time about something, her usual teasing laced with just enough care to make it feel like she actually meant it. the absence gnawed at me.

"alright, we're ready to go," the director called out, pulling me from my thoughts. i nodded, trying to focus. this video needed all of me—there was no room for distractions.

but as the music started, and i moved into the first pose, my mind wandered back to yunjin. i couldn't help it. i thought about how she'd been avoiding me, how distant she'd seemed even before the photoshoot. then, there was that moment on set, when we'd been so close we could've kissed. it had felt so real, too real. and since then, she'd been pulling further and further away.

as i moved through the choreography, hitting every step, every beat, i kept glancing toward the empty space at the back of the set, where i thought she might be standing. i felt ridiculous for even thinking she would come, but the hope had been there anyway, gnawing at me with each passing hour. i'd been checking my phone, expecting a text from her, maybe some kind of good luck message. but nothing.

as the crew reset for another take, i grabbed a water bottle and sat down, scrolling through my phone again, hoping for something. still nothing. my heart sank a little more.

i leaned back in the chair, staring at the ceiling, letting out a slow breath. why had i expected her to come? why had i let myself hope? we hadn't spoken properly since the photoshoot. maybe i had pushed too hard, or maybe i hadn't said enough. either way, something had shifted between us, and now... now it felt like a distance i couldn't close.

i pulled up her contact on my phone, my thumb hovering over the screen. should i text her again? should i ask if she was okay, if we were okay? the last time i had messaged her, after the photoshoot, she hadn't replied. maybe i should just leave it alone.

but a part of me couldn't. i typed out another message before i could stop myself.

📱 chaewon: i thought you might come today. it's okay if you're busy, but i hope you're alright. let me know if you're okay?

i stared at the message for a second before hitting send. it felt stupid, like i was grasping at straws, but i needed to know if something was really wrong or if i was just overthinking.

"chaewon, ready for another take?" the director called out, snapping me back to reality.

"yeah, i'm coming," i answered, standing up and slipping my phone back into my bag.

the music started again, and i threw myself into the choreography, trying to let the song's intensity take over, trying to shake off the weight in my chest. but as i danced, as the cameras captured every move, every expression, i couldn't help but feel like something was missing.

and it wasn't just yunjin's absence on set. it was something deeper. like the connection we'd built, fragile as it had been, was slipping through my fingers, and i had no idea how to hold onto it.

by the time we wrapped up the shoot for the day, exhaustion had settled into my bones, but that gnawing feeling of emptiness hadn't gone away. i pulled out my phone one last time, hoping—praying—for a reply from yunjin.

but there was nothing.

as i walked off the set, heading to the dressing room, i couldn't help but wonder if i'd lost her completely. if maybe the distance between us was something neither of us knew how to bridge.