© 2025 Kaela Seraphine. All Rights Reserved

You knew Chiquita was different the moment she crashed—literally—into your life. You’d just walked into the practice room when something slammed into your back.

“AAAH—sorry! I was mid-spin and my foot betrayed me—wait, why are you shaped like a wall???”

You turned around to face a tiny girl with two space buns, chaotic eyes, and the brightest freaking smile you’d ever seen.

“Are you… okay?” you asked, stunned.

She beamed. “Never! That’s the fun part!”

That was your first encounter with Chiquita—BABYMONSTER’s youngest monster. You’d heard of her already, of course. Everyone had. The prodigy from Thailand who sang like a 20-year-old R&B artist and danced like she was raised in a JYP basement.

But nothing prepared you for her energy.

She was full-speed. Full-volume. No breaks.

Within two weeks, she’d nicknamed you “slowpoke,” stolen your hoodie “for aesthetic purposes,” and challenged you to five random dance battles—lost three, blamed her shoes, demanded a rematch every time.

She was a menace. A cute one. But still.

“Why are you like this?” you asked once, as she FaceTimed you at 1AM, holding up a spoonful of Nutella and dancing in circles.

“I’m bored. And you’re my favorite chaos partner,” she grinned.

You groaned. “You need sleep.”

“I need attention.”

“You’re the worst.”

“I’m the best at being the worst!”

And honestly? You didn’t disagree.

---

But there was another side to her. The one most people didn’t see.

Like the way she’d rehearse choreography until her knees gave out—laughing through pain but hiding how hard she pushed herself. Or how she’d hum melodies in the stairwell when she thought she was alone—raw, vulnerable, heartbreakingly good.

You walked in on her once, curled on the floor of the practice room, clutching her phone. “You okay?” you asked gently.

She glanced up, eyes glassy. “I got called ‘immature’ again. Said I should ‘act my age.’ I’m 15, not five,” she mumbled, voice cracking. “They think I’m all energy and no depth.”