Archive of Our Own ^beta

…

The song has been in her drafts for nearly four years now. 

Chaeyoung doesn’t realize she’s been writing about Tzuyu for so long.

...

Chaeyoung starts writing a song quickly after the nine of them won SIXTEEN. It’s their first night in the dorm. She’s sharing a room with Dahyun and Tzuyu but the two of them are always out, trying to get to know the unnies better. It’s expected, of course. They’re going to be with each other for seven years, after all. 

Chaeyoung doesn’t know what got her into writing a half-assed song in the first place—she’s not even that good at it yet. For one, it doesn’t even have a title. All she knows is she wants to write something that comes straight from the heart.

PD-nim’s words to her echo faintly in the back of her mind. I feel like you’re still only showing 90%. She’ll show him, prove to him that she can be better than what she showed him during the competition. She knows she can give him 200%. She’s part of TWICE now. This is one of the biggest commitments she’s ever had to deal with. Signing the seven-year contract felt like locking the door to any other path she could’ve chosen and throwing the key away. 

(It also feels like cold metal chains rubbing painfully against her wrists but she doesn’t bring that up to anybody.) 

…

TWICE is busy with preparations for their debut. Chaeyoung wakes up at ungodly hours in the morning and goes to bed after midnight. Rinse and repeat, rinse and repeat. Despite the fame and glory promised to them by the company, she can’t help but hate the amount of exercise she has to go through and the food she can’t eat because she has to watch her weight. The other girls whine about the three-year dating ban but she doesn’t mind. She’s never been interested in dating in the first place. 

Due to her hectic schedules, she can’t remember the last time she spoke to her brother on the phone, always stuck in a constant loop of practices, hair and make-up appointments or high school classes. 

Thank God Dahyun and Tzuyu are there to keep her sane.  

This is the life of an idol.

Even though she’s exhausted and her bones feel like jelly, Chaeyoung always goes to sleep with a goofy smile on her face. Singing and performing in front of a crowd has always been what she wanted. Sometimes, she still can’t believe it’s actually happening. 

...

She’s barely written two comprehensible verses for her personal project but she feels like she’s getting somewhere. They’ve been given their first song to work with—Like Ooh Ahh—and while it’s catchy and fun to sing along to, she quickly gets tired of it after three recording sessions. She doesn’t tell that to the rest of the members though. While they’re all friends under the same roof, there are some things you just can’t say out loud. 

They release their music video. It’s a success. They have a party—Nayeon and Jeongyeon quickly get into an argument that only Jihyo manages to break up. Momo and Sana are in the middle of the living room, trying to recreate the music video but with some goofy adlibs. Mina is seated next to Dahyun on the couch, reading through the comments of some netizens. Tzuyu smiles at Chaeyoung when her part of the song comes up, despite it being tiny in comparison to Nayeon’s or Jihyo’s. 

Then the flag incident happens. 

All the girls are there for Tzuyu. The next two weeks are chaotic as hell and any practices or promotions are put on hold. Tzuyu is always called away for some meetings with the management. Her apology video gets posted online. Her parents fly to South Korea from Taiwan. She shuts off her phone to avoid seeing the news articles. 

Sometimes, in the middle of the night, when Dahyun is dead asleep, Chaeyoung hears Tzuyu crying in the bottom bunk of their double-decker. 

The first time it happens, Chaeyoung lets it slide. She doesn’t think she and Tzuyu have that level of friendship yet. It’s always Nayeon or Jihyo their maknae turns to whenever she’s having difficulty dealing with some shit, whether it’s missing home or some complicated choreography. Besides, Tzuyu seems like the kind of person who would hate being seen as weak. Chaeyoung understands the sentiment. 

The second time it happens, Chaeyoung leans over her bed and asks, “Tzuyu-ya?” But all she gets is a slight sniffle and then a soft, “I’m okay, Chaengie.” Chaeyoung doesn’t push it, knowing how much a person can draw back into their walls if pushed at the wrong time. So she just mumbles a soft, “Okay” and goes back to sleep.

The third time it happens, Dahyun is sleeping over at the unnies’ room. Chaeyoung wakes up from her slumber when she hears crying from underneath her bed. She shifts, already knowing that it’s Tzuyu. Deciding that this has gone on for far too long, she swings her legs over her bed and drops down onto the floor. A small gasp reaches her ears. Tzuyu must’ve expected her to go back to sleep. 

“Tzuyu-ya,” she whispers, crawling into the mattress next to their maknae. Tzuyu shifts, allowing Chaeyoung some space. Under the moonlight streaming through the open window, Chaeyoung sees her hastily wiping away her tears. 

“I—I—I’m fine,” Tzuyu says in broken Korean, trying to sit up.

“Ssshh.” Chaeyoung eases her back down the mattress. “It’s okay.” She avoids Tzuyu’s wide, unblinking stare and wraps an arm around her middle. Tzuyu is lying on her back, staring up at the underside of the top bunk with Chaeyoung facing her. At first, Tzuyu is all tense, obviously shaken by the display of affection Chaeyoung is showing. She hasn’t always been the affectionate type, after all, especially compared to Sana or Momo. 

But then, after a few moments, she gradually relaxes.

“We don’t have to talk about it,” Chaeyoung tells her, already fading back to sleep, “but I’m always here if you need to.” 

Tzuyu sniffles. She hesitantly brings the smaller girl closer. “Thank you,” she mumbles. 

“Of course, chingu Tzuyu.” Chaeyoung chuckles. “We’re family now. We look out for each other.”

Tzuyu hums and they both fall asleep wrapped up in each other’s embrace.

…

Chaeyoung writes Tzuyu a letter. 

At such a young age, you’ve been through so many things, she writes, sneaking a glance at Tzuyu who is busy writing her own set of letters too. She thinks of Tzuyu leaving behind everything she’s ever known just for a chance at a dream in a foreign land. She thinks of Tzuyu crying herself to sleep every night since the flag incident and refusing to let anybody see through her strong facade. She thinks of Tzuyu hugging her tightly that one fateful night, tears falling on top of Chaeyoung’s hair when she took deep steadying breaths. 

Tzuyu doesn’t look like it but she’s one of the strongest ones in the group.

Chaeyoung wants to be like her.

Thank you for persevering, she writes, smiling down at what she’s written, I love you. 

…

Chaeyoung forgets that she has an unfinished song in her notebook when PD-nim asks her to help out with a rap for one of their b-sides, Precious Love. Excited, she finishes it in one night with Tzuyu cheering her on from the other side of the bed. 

“My chingu Chaengie,” Tzuyu says, grinning at her with half-crescent moon-shaped eyes, “Main rapper, dancer, artist and now lyricist. Is there anything you can’t do?” The words are said slowly and carefully, like Tzuyu is afraid she might’ve said it wrong.

Chaeyoung smiles back, throwing a crumpled piece of paper at her. “My number one fan,” she coos. Tzuyu’s giggle sounds like music to her ears. 

Come and hug me, she writes, her heart getting all warm and fuzzy at the way Tzuyu cheers for her, I want to be by you forever.

…

It becomes painfully obvious that Chaeyoung is the least popular member of TWICE. This fact has been pushed in the back of her mind for several months now but she can sense the difference when the crowd cheers for Nayeon-unnie and when they cheer for her. She sees the comment section all filled with ONCEs talking about how gorgeous Tzuyu is or how elegant Mina is. She doesn’t see any mention of her name. It shouldn’t bother her. From what she’s seen of other girl groups in Korea, one member is bound to be forgotten, especially in a group of nine. She just didn’t think it’d be her. 

So she shuts herself in her room, plays loud music in her earphones and draws her heart out. Every time she’s upset, the feeling of a pencil clutched between her fingers is always stabilizing. It helps her keep her thoughts at bay. She draws and draws until her hand starts to cramp and her stomach begins to rumble. One page gets filled, then another, and then a third. The fourth one is purely red—anger from her red colored pencil pressed tightly against the paper. 

“Chaeyoung-ah?” 

She doesn’t hear. The music is too loud. A shadow passes by her page and she looks up to find Dahyun looking at her carefully. She pulls out her earphones, inhaling deeply through her nostrils. 

“Yeah?” she asks, her voice scratchy from the lack of use. 

“Dinner’s ready,” Dahyun says, glancing at what she’s doing. Chaeyoung not so subtly places a pillow on top of the pages she’s drawn. 

“I’m not hungry,” Chaeyoung says. 

Dahyun doesn’t respond immediately, possibly thinking of what to say. She’s always been like that. While Dahyun can be funny and outgoing in variety shows, she’s really caring and soft when there aren’t cameras around. Despite being part of the maknae line, she takes care of Chaeyoung and Tzuyu the same way Jihyo-unnie does. 

The only problem in this equation is that Chaeyoung doesn’t want to be babied right now. She already knows what Dahyun is going to say, anyway.

“It’s bad to bottle things up, you know,” she begins and Chaeyoung resists the urge to roll her eyes. Of course she knows it’s bad. But she can’t help it. Ever since her trainee days, she’s always considered herself as a lone wolf, constantly working to improve her skills. It’s why she started writing lyrics, why there are pages full of raps in her notebooks, why she always practices with Momo even though there are times when she can’t keep up.

“There are seven unnies looking out for you,” Dahyun continues. God bless her. Even though she has no idea what Chaeyoung is going through, she just can’t leave without imparting some comfort. “If you can’t talk to me, you can always talk to Tzuyu.”

“Unnie,” Chaeyoung says, sighing out loud, “I’m fine.” 

“No, you’re not.” 

“Yes,” the younger girl presses, trying to sound convincing, “I’m just tired, okay? I’ll probably eat dinner later. Leave some for me.”

“Chaeyoung—” 

“I’m fine,” Chaeyoung says through gritted teeth, rubbing her eyes, “Just please... I’ll eat later, okay?” 

Dahyun looks a little bit hurt but Chaeyoung merely plugs in her earphones and continues to draw. After a while, the older girl walks away and shuts the door behind her. Even though there’s music playing in her ears, Chaeyoung can feel the stifling silence in the air. 

Half an hour later, the door swings open again. She doesn’t look up, too absorbed in coloring between the lines. A figure stops by the top bunk, noticeably taller than Dahyun. She doesn’t have to turn to know that it’s Tzuyu. 

“Chaeyoung-ah,” Tzuyu says, poking her leg. 

Chaeyoung raises her head and finds their maknae staring up at her sadly. Even though she’s slightly irked at being interrupted during her time alone, she doesn’t really have it in her to be angry. Then she notices that Tzuyu is holding up a bowl full of udon. 

“We don’t have to talk about it,” Tzuyu says, echoing a previous conversation months ago. She smiles. “But I’m always here if you need to.” 

Chaeyoung stares at her. Then she cracks a smile. “Thanks, Tzuyu-ya,” she whispers and takes her dinner. 

Tzuyu, unlike Dahyun, understands the need for silence.

…

Chaeyoung grows tougher skin. She leaves first after every performance, despite the crowd cheering and avoids looking at the comments section, even though she knows it's full of positive words. It’s a coping mechanism, she likes to think. She’s always been good at pretending something she isn’t. When she was a kid, she liked to pretend that she’d grow taller to avoid being teased by her friends. When she was a trainee, she acted like she was a real rapper performing on stage. When she was hurt or angry about something, she pretended not to be affected by it. She does it again now, when the company hands her small rap parts in their new songs and barely gives her enough screen time in music videos. 

She pretends to be okay with it. 

Soon, she’ll forget that she’s even pretending in the first place. 

It’s second nature. 

…

“I don’t want to be known as the visual,” Tzuyu tells Sana one day after a music show. Chaeyoung stops, hidden by the corner leading to the living room. She was on her way to play on Jeongyeon’s console but based on the heavy atmosphere she nearly walked into, she’s glad the two other members don’t notice her. 

Sana says, “You’ve been improving a lot since SIXTEEN. You’ll be known for being a good dancer and singer soon too!”

But Tzuyu is persistent. Chaeyoung can imagine the furrow between her eyebrows as she slowly speaks her words, still not confident in Korean, “I don’t think I’ll be as good as Jihyo-unnie though,” she mumbles, “Everytime I read the comments, I always see people criticizing me.”

There’s a shifting noise. Chaeyoung thinks Sana might’ve gone closer to their maknae to hug her. Her suspicions are confirmed when she hears the older member’s muffled voice saying, “Then we give them something that they can’t criticize.” 

Chaeyoung fiddles with a loose thread of her shorts, not realizing just how deep Tzuyu’s insecurities run as well. She thinks of the past few months when a part of her resented her own mediocrity. Some would’ve expected her to be upset at Nayeon and Tzuyu for being the popular ones but she loves them like they're her own sisters. When you think of someone as family, you always want the best for them. 

However, all that anger and resentment has to go somewhere. She channels these heavy emotions in her writing. Most of the time, though, it just gets bottled up in self-hatred. 

She’s about to leave the room when she catches something Tzuyu says, “I want to be like Chaeyoung.”

Chaeyoung stops, feeling her heart clench unexpectedly at the sincerity she hears in Tzuyu’s words. It’s not like she and Tzuyu aren’t close. They are. But they’ve only been together as a group for a year and it definitely isn’t enough to share their sentiments with each other. The only time Tzuyu has actually allowed herself to break down was a few weeks after the flag incident when Chaeyoung held her as they slept. 

Hearing those words spark something warm and heavy inside Chaeyoung’s chest. 

“What about Chaeyoung?” Sana asks even though there is a knowing tilt to her voice. 

“She’s…” Tzuyu sounds like she’s struggling with her words. “Not afraid to show the world who she is. She writes so well. She can even draw too. Plus, she’s the best rapper out of all of us…”

“Don’t let Dahyunnie hear you say that or she’s going to pout the entire month,” Sana says, giggling.

“I’m serious,” Tzuyu whines.

“Hey, hey, I know you are.” A pause. “I get what you mean—I want to be like Chaeyoung too.” 

Tears prickle the back of Chaeyoung’s eyes. She hastily blinks to keep them from falling. It’s not uncommon for all nine of them to shower each other with compliments. It’s just—it’s different when they don’t know that people are listening in. Her heart feels like it’s about to burst out of her ribcage. 

“She’s so talented,” Tzuyu whispers, her voice so low that Chaeyoung has to strain her ears just to hear her, “Sometimes, I just want to sit there and watch her draw all the time. Or read her poems. Or even listen to her sing.” 

The tears are persistent now. Chaeyoung has to leave the hallway and rush to the bathroom to avoid being seen by the rest of the members. Her heart is full. She remembers the last time she felt this way—the first time TWICE performed in front of a crowd, all as one. Because of her leaving, she doesn’t hear Sana’s teasing comment to Tzuyu’s mini confession: “Careful,” she says, “you sound like you like her.” 

Tzuyu sighs softly. “Maybe I do.”

…

Chaeyoung finds the notebook with the unfinished song tucked behind some books. When she rereads the shitty lines she first wrote several months ago, a part of her wants to rip the page out and throw the song away. But, a small part of her whispers, you wanted to show PD-nim what you’re capable of, right? Now show it to the rest of the world. 

While Dahyun and Tzuyu are asleep, Chaeyoung flips the lamp on and starts writing. 

…

It’s still a shitty song, half-baked and unfinished. It doesn't mean much. Just the ramblings of a seventeen-year-old girl pretending to be a lyricist when she’s not.

Chaeyoung doesn’t throw it away.

…

“Chingu Chaengie,” Tzuyu says one day during their shared class in school, “there’s this movie I’ve been wanting to see. Do you want to watch with me in the theatre?” 

Chaeyoung promptly stops doodling all over her English homework and looks up with a small frown. She thinks of their schedule, as she always does whenever she wants to do something but the company has other plans. So far, no immediate practices or recording sessions come to mind. Which means they’ve got some time to spare. 

“Sure,” she says, eager to wipe the small pout Tzuyu has on her face, “I’ll tell Dahyun.”

“Ah.” Chaeyoung doesn’t see the disappointment that flashes across Tzuyu’s eyes. “Right, of course.” 

…

“Mina is so pretty,” Chaeyoung says one day as they’re flipping through some photos from a small promotional video. 

She’s walking with Dahyun and Tzuyu from school. Dahyun is a little farther up ahead, talking to her mom on the phone and pretending like she isn’t going to cry any second. It’s been a long time since Chaeyoung’s last seen her family. She should call them soon. 

Tzuyu hums and looks at the photo Chaeyoung has on her phone. “Yeah,” is what the taller girl just says, quick to eager and please.

“I wish I had her elegance,” Chaeyoung grumbles, pocketing her phone, “She always knows how to sit straight. Jeongyeon’s always scolding me for my bad posture.” 

Tzuyu giggles and reaches out to touch the small of her back. All at once, Chaeyoung’s entire body heats up. It’s such an immediate reaction that her brain actually short-circuits. Then Tzuyu applies some pressure, forcing Chaeyoung to straighten her spine. When she turns to look at their maknae, Tzuyu’s large eyes stare back at her unflinchingly. “Better?” she asks, a gentle smile on her lips.

All Chaeyoung can do is nod, her cheeks burning, as the ghost of Tzuyu’s touch lingers even after she’s pulled away.

...

For their next comeback, Chaeyoung gets to write lyrics with Jihyo. They’re given the music of the song two weeks before the deadline. It has a cheerful and playful vibe to it. When Chaeyoung first hears of it, she can’t help but immediately think of crushes. When she thinks this, Tzuyu pops up in mind. She doesn't know why. 

(Of course she knows why—she's pretending not to.)

“You know that feeling,” Chaeyoung begins late one night, after they’re all finished eating dinner and the rest of the members have retreated to their respective rooms, “when somebody you like looks at you in the eye and you can’t look away?” 

Jihyo smiles, charmed by the innocence. “Yeah.” She nods. “Like staring into an ocean, right?” 

Chaeyoung grins. “Exactly.” 

She thinks of Tzuyu’s large, dark brown eyes and how they crinkle into half-crescent moons whenever she smiles. She pretends not to think about her when she writes the line ‘I’m uninterested in men.’ Jihyo lets out a small laugh when she reads it. 

…

Chaeyoung releases her melody project, pleased by the results. The girls kiss her as a form of congratulations and she pretends like she doesn’t like it one bit. It’s starting to become a tradition and Sana excitedly claims she can’t wait to receive kisses on her birthday. They all take turns, which takes a while, considering that Chaeyoung tries to squirm her way out of it. Nayeon has to physically restrain her just for Momo to plant one by her cheek. 

Tzuyu doesn’t kiss her that afternoon. She shrieks when Jeongyeon calls out for her and barricades herself in their room. Chaeyoung laughs, understanding the sentiment. She knows their unnies would never let it go if their two maknaes kissed each other. They’d probably squeal and take pictures and post all over Twicetagram. 

Tzuyu surprises Chaeyoung later that night, when she’s falling asleep with a pen in one hand and her sketchbook in the other. “Chaengie,” their maknae whispers. 

“Huh?” Chaeyoung raises her head, looking up at Tzuyu’s large eyes staring down at her. The same ones she could drown in.

“You forgot something.” 

“Huh?” she repeats. She racks her brain, trying to remember. “I did my laundry, right?” 

Tzuyu smiles—it’s enough to knock some sense back into her.

“No, pabo,” she says and then leans forward to peck Chaeyoung’s cheek lightly. She lingers for a few seconds before leaning back. “Congratulations on your melody project.” 

Chaeyoung blinks and Tzuyu is gone. She blames it on her exhaustion. A part of her even thinks it didn’t happen. And yet, she can still feel the press of Tzuyu’s lips on her skin. It reminds her of the same feeling she gets when Tzuyu’s unnaturally cold fingers wrap into her own. 

...

Chaeyoung sees a picture of Kristen Stewart and decides to cut her hair. Dispatch has a field day about this. Management calls her into meetings. Comments, both positive and negative, about her hair reaches her ears. She’s learned not to bother herself too much with it. It’s second nature. Chaeyoung has thicker skin now—it’s crucial to have one, especially when you’re an idol.

At first, Jihyo is mad at her for not telling their managers. Then the anger quickly melts away as she admires the new style. The rest of the girls all like her hair. Momo can’t stop taking pictures of her and cooing about how cool she looks. Jeongyeon laughs when she sees it and then amends that it’s because Chaeyoung strongly reminds her of herself. The rest all tell her that it suits her well. 

Tzuyu can’t stop touching her hair. She runs her fingers through it every time they’re in the same space, cups the back of her neck when they’re walking to their next schedule, blows into her visible ear every time she’s behind her. Chaeyoung’s skin is attuned to Tzuyu’s touch by now. It doesn’t mean she’ll ever get used to the goosebumps she feels in return. 

Eye eye eyes like the sea, she sings in her head when she sees Tzuyu’s wide smile reflected in the mirror in front of her the morning after she chops off her hair. Tzuyu’s eyes are shaped in their typical half-crescent moons. I want to swim in them, yeah.

…

Chaeyoung hasn’t forgotten about her unfinished song. It’s been two years now. The rest of the page is still empty. Her little project began as a way to prove her worth to PD-nim. She doesn’t really need to do that anymore. He knows her worth by now, especially since she’s been writing lyrics for their b-sides. Now she knows that she’s writing this for herself. It’s a way to prove her worth to herself.

She wants to write a song that shows 200% of who she is. She wants to write a song that isn’t part of their cute little concepts. She wants to write a song that she can be proud of. Who knows? Maybe she’ll even learn how to compose some day. 

So far, the words she come up with don’t feel right. She puts away the notebook and promises herself to write another time, when inspiration strikes. She just doesn’t know when, though. 

She has time. 

…

Dahyun slams a pillow at her face. “Wake up, sleepyhead,” she says, grinning down at her, “we’ve got choreo today.”

“Screw you.” Chaeyoung turns the other way, pulling her blanket up to her chin. “I need sleep. I was up all night.”

“Of course you were. Your sleeping schedule is all messed up.”

“Glad that you know.”

“What were you doing anyway?” 

Chaeyoung thinks of last night. Yeah, what was she doing again? Oh right, she and Mina were up all night trying to beat each other’s high score on some free random game they found on the internet. Of course, the older girl won. She’s a competitive beast when it comes to video games. Every time she beat Chaeyoung though, an apologetic but smug smile always played on her lips. 

“Anyway, wake up or else I’m calling Sana,” Dahyun warns her before leaving the room.

Chaeyoung groans louder. Sana has an interesting way of waking up her members that may or may not involve kissing or hugging. Still, she knows Sana takes a long time in preparing for the day ahead so she figures she can steal a few more moments of sleep.

Minutes later, she feels a hand on the back of her neck, playing with the soft baby hairs at the end of it. Subconsciously, she shivers. She knows that ice-cold grip anywhere, has spent the past few weeks memorizing its familiar weight and touch. 

“Chaengie,” Tzuyu calls, “the bathroom’s free.” 

“Mhmm.” 

“You don’t want me to call Sana, do you?” 

Chaeyoung raises her head, her short hair messy and tousled. She meets Tzuyu’s expectant gaze. The sight of those large eyes staring back at her unflinchingly is enough to make her face warm. There’s just something about Chou Tzuyu that Chaeyoung can’t put her finger on. Sometimes, it feels like she’s drowning in those brown orbs of hers, reminding her of an ocean constantly pulling her under. Other times, her touch is enough to set fire to her skin and Chaeyoung feels so helpless at the receiving end of it. Every time she leans down and whispers into Chaeyoung’s ear, her breath leaves goosebumps that don’t fade even after she has stepped away. 

There are so many instances where Chaeyoung just wants to pull up a sketchbook and draw her face. Aphrodite reincarnate, she often thinks to herself. She doesn’t, though. She knows she can’t bring justice to such beauty. 

“Why are you staring?” Tzuyu asks playfully, her eyes sparkling.

Chaeyoung just smiles, running her fingers through her hair. She pretends like Tzuyu asking her that question doesn’t make her heart pound. “Nothing,” she answers, shrugging. She’s always been good at pretending. 

…

A few days after they release Signal, Chaeyoung goes out the balcony and writes in her notebook. She feels different emotions for every activity she does. When she wants to get high on her energy, she usually raps. When she’s trying to calm herself down, she draws or paints her heart out. Writing down her thoughts, she found out, always helps her get to the bottom of her feelings. It helps untangle the mess of thoughts inside her head. 

How do you pretend not to feel like your heart doesn’t flutter every time she looks at you?

How do you pretend like it doesn’t hurt your soul when she gives somebody else her attention? 

How do you pretend to feel like you aren’t on top of the world when you hear her laugh? 

Talking—or writing—to herself always helps. It reminds her that even when she feels lonely, she always has herself to depend on. Because of this, she answers her questions a few seconds later. 

Because you don’t have a choice. 

…

“Chaeyoung-ah?” Tzuyu asks one day while she films herself on her phone, “What are you doing?” 

Chaeyoung glances at her, sees the camera and answers, “Thinking of you.” 

When Tzuyu squeals, Chaeyoung laughs. If only you knew, a voice whispers in her head. She pretends not to feel like her heart doesn’t ache with this bittersweet truth.

…

During an awarding ceremony, Tzuyu points to some random member of an obscure boy group Chaeyoung doesn’t even remember the name to. “He’s cute,” she comments lightly, her cheeks pink, “Don’t you think so?” 

Even though Chaeyoung agrees, she spends the rest of the night brooding. 

…

Chaeyoung spends more time with Mina and Momo after that particular incident. It’s not like she’s mad at Tzuyu or anything. Having crushes on other K-Pop idols isn’t anything new. She hears Jihyo and Dahyun talking about them most of the time, back at the dorms. She just finds it unfair that she can like someone so much and that someone doesn’t like her back. 

…

Elkie from CLC comes into Tzuyu’s life suddenly and unexpectedly. They become fast friends, faster than Chaeyoung expected. It really shouldn’t bother her because it means Tzuyu’s opening up to other people who aren’t part of their group. Tzuyu can express herself in her own language as well. That’s the important part, right? 

Still, Chaeyoung can’t help but miss Tzuyu when she’s hanging out with Elkie. 

…

She read a quote once: if you want to know what someone fears losing, watch what they photograph. She thinks of this as she takes several photos of Tzuyu in Switzerland. Tzuyu complains and Chaeyoung laughs. 

…

Dahyun asks for help in writing rap lyrics for a song. 

Chaeyoung hums, writes ‘but I still wanna see you, miss you baby’ and pretends like it’s not about Tzuyu. 

…

Son Chaeyoung shouldn’t be thinking about some girl.

She should be honing her craft, focusing on her skills, improving what she has to offer to the world. People don’t pay that much attention to her anyway so she has to find a way to get them to listen. If that means writing a whole entire song by herself, then so be it. If it means shutting out the rest of her members as she tries to write lyrics, then so be it. If it means pretending not to like Chou Tzuyu in the same way she’s expected to like boys, then so be it.

She thinks of the drive that made her pursue being an idol in the first place. She always watched other solo artists composing their own songs and performing in front of a crowd when she was a kid. When she did for the first time, back in SIXTEEN days, it’s something she can never forget—the way her body moved on its own, how the words slipped past her lips with ease, the roar of the crowd as they cheered her on. She wonders what it feels like, to perform something she wrote entirely by herself? 

Tzuyu’s been on her mind for a while now.  

“Stupid,” she mutters to herself, ripping out a page from her notebook. She’s trying to write—they’re planning another comeback now, as they always do. There are no breaks in between, just days where she can close her eyes and sleep for a few more hours. There’s always something to do, some place to be, some event they have to attend. She feels weary, exhausted. She misses home, even though she visits from time to time. 

“Stupid,” she continues to grumble, clutching her pencil so hard she’s afraid it might break in half. She thinks of Tzuyu. She thinks of her large soft eyes, her quiet laugh, her cold hands. She thinks of the way Tzuyu pointed out that boy from the crowd and told her that he was cute. Of course she did. She likes boys. Of course she does. What a fucking nightmare.

“Hoo! Hah! Huh!” she says suddenly, forcing herself out of the slump she’s found herself in. She shakes her head. “Don’t give up,” she mutters, reaching out to replay the song they gave her, “it’s not the end of the world if she doesn’t like you.”

It’s hilarious—how despite trying not to think about her, Tzuyu finds her way back into her thoughts.

She listens to the music one more time, the tip of her pencil running in circles on the page. Tzuyu returns to plague her thoughts again. The way her eyes light up at the reminder of Gucci, her shy smile every time she’s asked to speak up during variety shows, the way her lips form Chaeyoung’s name—Chingu Chaengie.

She remembers something Tzuyu said a long time ago.

I want to be like Chaeyoung. 

Don’t need to look far, she writes on the paper, her pen moving slowly and carefully as the words slowly pour out. It’s right in front of you. She thinks of this song as a message for Tzuyu, even if she will never know that it’s from her. Anyone can see how valuable you are. Tzuyu is so much more than just pretty looks—more than just large eyes on a small face, the standards for Korean beauty. 

She remembers the frustration in Tzuyu’s voice: I don’t want to be known as the visual. 

She writes the title on top of the page. Don’t Give Up! 

…

“Your hair is getting longer,” Mina comments one day, reaching out and brushing the bangs away Chaeyoung’s eyes; they’re at a fansign event. The flash of cameras used to bother her a lot, now she pretends to be unfazed by it. “I don’t know how to feel about that.”

Chaeyoung throws up a peace sign, winking. The line has just started with most of the fans still talking to Jeongyeon and Jihyo at the start of the table. Chaeyoung is next. “No girl crush for you, then,” she remarks, “Would you like me any less if I grow my hair out?”

Mina rolls her eyes fondly. “Of course not, Chaeyoungie,” she says, gummy smile in place, “I like you for who you are.” 

…

Tzuyu stops talking to her one day. Chaeyoung is confused when she enters the living room after practice only to see her hastily standing up and muttering something to Nayeon. Then she passes by Chaeyoung without giving her a second glance. 

“Did I do something wrong?” Chaeyoung asks out loud, glancing at her unnie. 

Nayeon looks like she’s barely holding in her laughter. “Oh, you know Tzuyu,” she says, waving away Chaeyoung’s concerns, “She’ll get over it.”

“Get over what, unnie?” 

“She’s always reading articles about us,” Nayeon explains, standing up and passing her phone to Chaeyoung, “Constructive criticism, as Jihyo would say. Guess she saw something she didn’t like.” 

Nayeon also leaves the room shortly afterwards. Chaeyoung frowns, rubbing the back of her neck. She looks down at the phone she has in her hand. It’s a news article, obviously written by some crazed fan. The title reads: MICHAENG IS REAL!!! Her eyes widen at such a bold claim. Then her eyes skim through the words: Conversation at fansign event between TWICE’s Mina and Chaeyoung spark dating rumors. Fans are over the moon at this recent development. 

Oh, Chaeyoung thinks to herself, growing even more confused, why would Tzuyu be mad about this? 

…

It’s been three years and that one unfinished song in her notebook continues to haunt her until this day. Even though she’s written lyrics for their b-sides, she knows that they aren’t her best work. Besides, she didn’t control the music so she had to tweak her words to match the pace of the song. This started as a self-worth project but now it’s just coming to bite Chaeyoung in the ass. 

They’re recording for their new comeback—What is Love? Chaeyoung has her notebook propped open in front of her as they sit in the studio. Tzuyu is next to her, scrolling through some news articles. Tzuyu, as Chaeyoung finds out, likes to keep up with what’s trending. Sometimes, Chaeyoung thinks she’s just looking out for any scandals that might arise. The flag incident affected her that badly. 

“What are you writing?” Tzuyu asks when she sees Chaeyoung scratching out some words. 

“Nothing,” Chaeyoung answers, flipping to a new page, “Just lyrics.” 

“Can I read?” 

Chaeyoung pauses. The song, which has spent three years in her drafts, isn’t feasible yet. She doesn’t even know what it’s about—she just knows she wrote some things while she was going through some shit. While the words are messy and awkward at best, with no known beat to it, she knows that at least they’re genuine. She thinks back to what PD-nim told her back in SIXTEEN, three years ago. I feel like you’re only showing 90%. It seems like a distant memory now. She remembers the tears she shed after that particular moment, how the words seem to carve a hole in her heart. Performing in front of a crowd is something she’s always wanted ever since she was a kid—to hear such criticism from somebody she looks up to hit her harder than she let on.

“It’s not finished,” she tells Tzuyu, shaking her head, “I’ll let you read it once I’m done.” 

Tzuyu pouts. It’s so adorable—Chaeyoung actually has to look away. “You always let me see your work.” 

“Because I want to,” Chaeyoung answers, hoping to ease her worries, “This is still messy, though. It doesn’t have a coherent storyline to it.” 

“Do you always need to tell a story when you’re writing?” Tzuyu asks. At first, Chaeyoung wants to scoff because of course you have to tell a story. But then before she can say so, Tzuyu adds, “What if you just want to tell someone something?” 

Chaeyoung thinks of all the other songs she’s written—all with Tzuyu in mind. She smiles, pitying herself. “It depends if they’re listening,” she mutters, allowing herself not to pretend for once. 

Tzuyu snorts, leaning back. “I can’t imagine anybody who’d be stupid enough not to listen to you,” she says, growing more confident in her Korean. Chaeyoung feels a rush of affection. It’s dangerous—Chou Tzuyu is dangerous. Her heart goes into overdrive, like the fucking traitor that it is. “I always like what you come up with,” Tzuyu continues.

Chaeyoung doesn’t respond and just smiles at her. There’s a difference between hearing a song and listening to the lyrics behind it, after all. Tzuyu just doesn’t know it. 

…

“Can you help me out with a song?” Jeongyeon asks Chaeyoung one day. 

Chaeyoung looks up from her bed; Jeongyeon is standing by the doorway, her hands tucked into the pockets of her boy shorts. She looks sheepish. 

“Isn’t the deadline tomorrow?” 

“Yeah, that’s why I kind of need your help,” Jeongyeon grumbles, looking like she’d rather be anywhere than asking one of their maknaes for help. 

Chaeyoung rolls her eyes and jumps down from the top bunk. Jeongyeon, always praised as the mother of the group, has difficulty asking for help from the rest of their members. It’s something she can relate to most times. There are other occasions, though, where she just wants to slap Jeongyeon for thinking too much about other people and not enough about herself.

“What’s it about?” she asks. 

Jeongyeon blushes, looking away. “You know,” she mutters,  scratching her cheek.

“No, I actually don’t know, NoJam bro.” 

“I wasn’t finished talking, you smartass,” Jeongyeon grumbles and Chaeyoung laughs. “Anyway, you know that situation where somebody’s trying to flirt with you using some sweet words? Like you could actually cringe from how they’re trying so hard?” 

“You mean, when they try to smooth talk you?” Chaeyoung asks. 

Jeongyeon’s eyes light up when her NoJam bro understands. “My working title is Sweet Talker,” she shares, “I have a few lyrics in mind but I can’t seem to wrap them together.” 

“Is somebody flirting with you?” Chaeyoung asks because Jeongyeon rarely talks to anybody outside the members. She has some friends from other boy groups but none that she’s actually expressed some interest in. For some reason, the thought Jeongyeon and some other male idol doesn’t sit so well with her. 

“Nope,” Jeongyeon answers too quickly, "Anyway, are you going to help me or not?”

“Depends on what you’re willing to give me in return.”

“I’ll buy you strawberries.”

Chaeyoung beams. “You’ve got yourself a deal.” 

…

Chaeyoung writes my heart is getting weak because of you, shaking up my heart you you, in my head, it’s only you you you and tries her best not to admit that it’s about Tzuyu. She thinks of some instances when Tzuyu uses her sweet words, when she can be so unflinchingly bold in her intentions. Where do you want to go? Chaeyoung had asked during a fansign. Your heart, Tzuyu had answered, looking so smug about it. 

Chou Tzuyu is the definition of a sweet talker and Chaeyoung isn’t complaining. 

…

She dyes her hair orange and throws Tzuyu a small birthday party when she turns 19. It’s not much but the rest of the members are busy so they’re the only ones stuck in the dorm. They have a Vlive and talk to the fans. Tzuyu can’t stop smiling, especially after Chaeyoung gives her a slice of her cake. 

“Tzuyu-ya,” Chaeyoung says when she wraps her arms around the birthday girl, “your heart is racing.”

“Me? I think I’m healthy,” Tzuyu answers, pulling away quickly and putting a hand over her chest.

It'll take Chaeyoung a long time to realize that she’s not the only one who’s been pretending. 

…

They’re going to turn 20 next year. They’ll be done by school then and can focus more on being idols. Tzuyu mentioned something about going to college. Chaeyoung thinks about what she plans to do as they start preparing for their next comeback—Yes or Yes. They give her new music to work with, ask her to come up with the lyrics. It’s an upbeat song, one that matches with the rest of the album’s b-sides. She can’t stop thinking about the fact that she’s been with TWICE for the past three years of her life. Has it really been that long? Four more years to go until the end of the contract, until she can break free from the restrictions of the company and work on her own music.

(The heavy metals chains she feels locked around her wrists grow heavier the more she thinks about this. What is freedom if it means losing the ones you love?)

She stares at Tzuyu a little too hard one day after they get home from school. 

“What?” Tzuyu asks, raising her eyebrows in question.

“Do you ever think about it?” 

“About what?”

The rest of the members are all doing their own thing outside their respective rooms. They can hear Sana and Momo fighting for Dahyun’s attention. Nayeon and Jihyo are arguing about who gets to use the bathroom first. Mina is probably in her room, watching a movie. Jeongyeon might be cleaning. Which leaves Chaeyoung sitting at her study table and Tzuyu looking up at her from the bottom bunk.

“Four years from now,” Chaeyoung replies, not really wanting to think about it but knowing she has to, one day, “when we disband.”

Tzuyu grows quiet, which is an answer in itself already. 

“It’s still far away,” Chaeyoung continues, not wanting to ruin the mood, “but you know, we’re turning 20 next year. We’ll both be 24 when the contract ends. Do you ever think about doing anything else?”

“No.” Tzuyu’s answer is straightforward. “I don’t think I want to do anything else.” 

“We don’t have a choice.” Chaeyoung purses her lips. “I don’t want to be stuck doing cute concepts for the rest of my career.” 

Tzuyu lets out a deep breath. Then she shifts in her bed, curling up against the wall. Chaeyoung takes this as an invitation and slides in on the mattress next to her. It’s a cramped fit, especially if they’re not curled up against one another. So Chaeyoung forces herself to keep very still and stare at the underside of the top bed. 

“It’s exhausting,” Tzuyu says suddenly, her voice low, “but I wouldn’t have it any other way. I want to keep doing this for a long time, if they’ll let me.” 

Chaeyoung’s heart prickles at the raw agony in Tzuyu’s voice. The nine of them have grown to love each other the past few years. They’re more than friends, more than family even. There’s just something so soul-wrenching about being part of a girl group. The bond is deeper. You get to truly know a person, have the chance to see what they’re like early in the morning and hear their thoughts late at night. They’re not bound by blood but by experience, pain and loyalty. 

Being an idol has both its pros and cons. Chaeyoung knows she will never be alone ever again since she’s been blessed with eight other girls who would do anything for her happiness. But she knows that a time will come where they’ll part ways. She knows it will hurt. She knows it will feel like having her hand chopped off. She knows her life has been changed—for them and because of them. 

“I don’t want this to end,” Tzuyu quietly whispers, sounding close to tears.

“Hey.” Chaeyoung wraps her arm around Tzuyu’s middle. She likes being the big spoon, even though Tzuyu is literally several inches taller than she is. Their legs get tangled with one another and she inhales deeply, breathing in the younger girl's shampoo. "We don't have to talk about it,” she tells their maknae, "but I'm always here if you need to."

Tzuyu is quiet. Then she twists around and faces Chaeyoung. Her large, dark brown eyes are wet with tears. "Promise?" 

Chaeyoung smiles, tucking a strand of hair behind Tzuyu's ear. "Promise," she whispers, "Let's not think of being 20 as four years closer to ending this. Let's think of it as being… young and wild." 

Tzuyu returns her smile and then tucks her head under Chaeyoung's. It's quiet and peaceful. She hears the song in her head again. She's thinking about what to write. Tzuyu suddenly presses a soft kiss on her collarbone and then all her thoughts go back to her, again and again. As it always does. 

Chaeyoung closes her eyes and pretends not to feel her heart racing. 

…

We are young and wild, Chaeyoung writes the next day. 

I want to live life my way, I don’t care. The pen is steady in her hand. 

Following the path where my legs take me. Disbandment is four years away. 

A solo career has always been on her mind ever since she joined SIXTEEN. There’s just something about creating your own work and letting the world see it that entices her completely. She just figured that a girl group would be the best way to kick-start her career. A part of her knew that she’d get attached to the girls she’d debut with. She took the risk anyway.

But, she thinks to herself, remembering the press of Tzuyu’s lips against her collarbone, I didn’t think I’d fall for one of them. 

…

Chaeyoung dyes her hair platinum blonde and graduates with Tzuyu by her side. They smile at the flashing cameras, holding their diplomas proudly. They then thank all their teachers and professors, saluting at them from behind all the photographers taking pictures. All the unnies send their congratulatory messages. Chaeyoung gags when she reads about Nayeon and Jihyo both bawling back home because the two youngest are growing up. But it’s all good. 

Once they get into the van, though, Tzuyu bursts into tears. 

“Whoa,” Chaeyoung says, immediately hugging her, “hey, hey, I thought we were supposed to be happy that we’re out of high school?” 

“I am.” Tzuyu sniffs. Even when she’s crying, she looks pretty. Chaeyoung is slightly envious about this fact. “I’m so happy, Chaengie. I don’t know why I’m suddenly crying…” 

Chaeyoung thinks of all the memories they spent in high school—Dahyun meeting them up for lunch, Tzuyu diligently taking down notes, Chaeyoung falling asleep in the middle of it. She thinks back to all the nights they stayed awake just to finish homework, to all the times Jihyo helped them with Math in the practice rooms, to all the times Mina patiently made breakfast for them each morning. It’s been a good few years. It was exhausting, though. Most of the time, Chaeyoung wished for more hours in a day. 

And now it’s over. 

“Hey,” Chaeyoung says, letting Tzuyu lean on her shoulder. She thinks of that one cheesy quote she read on the internet once. “Don’t be sad that it’s over, be happy because it happened.” 

Tzuyu laughs, apparently finding it cheesy too. “Oh, chingu Chaengie,” she murmurs, wiping away her tears and palming Chaeyoung’s cheeks in her hands. Her round eyes are crinkled at the corners and her smile is radiant.  “What on earth would I do without you?” 

…

Chaeyoung pulls out her notebook from behind a stack of books on her table. She flips through the pages, reading through what she’s written the past years. A part of her can’t believe that it’s been four years already. The song she was supposed to give her 200% is still in her stupid drafts with shitty lyrics and no coherent storyline. 

Then she thinks about what Tzuyu said. What if you just want to tell someone something?

Taking a deep breath, she turns to another page and tries to write again. 

…

Elkie posts a long, personal message for Tzuyu on her birthday. 

Chaeyoung’s heart aches when she sees Tzuyu’s smile as she reads it.

...

Momo and Sana return from grocery shopping. They drop a paper bag full of strawberries onto the table, smirking at the wide-eyed look Chaeyoung sends them. The rest of the members are at photoshoots for their next comeback so it's just the three of them in the dorms now.

“It was on sale,” Momo explains, "We're planning to make strawberry shortcake. Do you want to join us?" 

Chaeyoung was in the middle of a rather unproductive writing session. At the mention of strawberry shortcake, she shrugs and puts down her pen. It’ll have to wait. Inspiration isn’t really knocking on her door right now. Momo and Sana both head into the kitchen. Before, just the thought of them inside a kitchen with all the sharp knives and ovens used to scare the shit out of everybody. But now Momo’s getting better at cooking and Sana knows not to touch anything unless told to.

“How’s the new song coming up?” Momo asks as she looks up some recipes online.

“Nada,” Chaeyoung responds, sighing. The company has given her new music to work with. While it’s different from what she’s been given before, Chaeyoung for some reason can’t really seem to get her brain working. The melody and beat don’t really scream first loves or even an inspirational message.

Sana, as if sensing her thoughts, picks a strawberry from the pile and hands it to her. “You’re the one who’s written the most songs out of all of us,” she says, raising an eyebrow, “Maybe try something you haven’t done before?” 

Momo nods seriously. “You’ve written love songs,” she points out, “and I really liked Young and Wild. How’d you get to writing them in the first place?” 

Tzuyu. Chaeyoung smiles and shakes her head. “The words just come to me,” she answers, playing with the strawberry Sana gave her. 

“You’ll write a great song,” Momo tells her, smiling brightly, “You always do.”

Chaeyoung meets Sana’s eyes. The older girl smiles as well. “You’re Son Chaeyoung,” she says, “The ace of TWICE. There’s nothing you can’t do, after all.” 

Chaeyoung isn’t so sure. Most of the time, she feels pretty mediocre. She can’t hold a high note like Jihyo can, she can’t dance the way Momo can, she isn’t as pretty as Tzuyu is, she isn’t as funny like Dahyun is. The girls have referred to her as being the ace of their group—the one who can do anything if she puts her mind to it. Nayeon has even joked about Chaeyoung taking JYP’s place in the future. When she thinks about it, it just adds pressure to her shoulders. Don’t get her wrong—it’s amazing that they all think so highly of her. But most of the time, she knows talent isn’t enough.

“Maybe,” Momo begins, grabbing a mixing bowl from the cupboards, the same cupboards Chaeyoung has to ask for help with since she can’t reach the top, “you should try writing something you haven’t experienced yet.” 

“Oh!” Sana snaps her fingers, looking excited. “Have you had your first kiss, Chaeyoungie?” 

Chaeyoung flinches, her cheeks turning pink. Of course she’s had. They didn’t mean anything though. Most of them were just based on dares. She kissed Yeri once, back in middle school. They laughed and promised to never speak of it again. She hasn’t had a kiss that meant something more. As she thinks of this, the image of Tzuyu smiling pops up in her head. She pretends like it doesn’t mean anything. 

Sana laughs, wrapping her arms around Chaeyoung’s broad shoulders. “Sometimes, I forget that you’re growing up,” she coos. 

Momo shares in her laughter. “You’ll always be our Strawberry Princess, Chaeyoungie.” 

Chaeyoung whines as her two unnies both try to kiss her on her cheeks. “Yah!” she says, trying to push them away, “I’m 20 now! Stop treating me like a baby!” 

“But!” Momo and Sana pout, giving her their best puppy eyes. “You’re our maknae.” 

“Tzuyu is the maknae, why can’t you kiss her instead?” 

Sana giggles, reaching out and dipping her finger on the flour Momo has prepared. She smears it all over Chaeyoung’s cheeks who whines again and tries to wipe it away; “I think,” the older unnie says, grinning broadly, “that Tzuyu doesn’t want anybody else kissing her except for a certain someone.” 

"Eh?"

"Besides," Momo says, turning her attention back to mixing bowl, "she's too tall for me. I'd have to stand on my tippy toes."

The three of them hear the front door open and close. They turn and find Tzuyu entering, followed by one of the managers. Something in Chaeyoung's heart rattles at the sight of her. Tzuyu has always looked beautiful, even when she's bare-faced. But there's just something about Tzuyu in make-up that makes her eyes pop. She smiles at the trio. 

"Hi," she greets, "what are you making?" 

Sana plants a wet kiss on Chaeyoung's cheek, despite the flour. "Chaengie's favorite," she answers, giggling. 

"Unnie," Chaeyoung whines again, sighing, "Raw flour is bad for you." 

Momo twists around and wipes the flour from Sana's lips using her pinky. The two share bashful grins. Chaeyoung rolls her eyes, bites into the strawberry she still has in her hand and waltzes over to where Tzuyu is still standing, watching them in amusement. 

"Want one?" she asks, "They bought a whole bag of it." 

She expects Tzuyu to nod and get one for herself. She doesn't expect Tzuyu to take her wrist, direct her fingers into her mouth and take a bite of the strawberry she's still holding. Some of the juice oozes out and drips down her chin. Chaeyoung's eyes widen and her mouth drops, drawing her hand back, as Tzuyu hums thoughtfully and wipes at her lips. 

"Sweet," she says cheekily and then walks away. 

Chaeyoung pretends like she isn't blushing, like her heart isn't racing, like she isn't having a freaking panic attack. Momo and Sana call for her back in the kitchen, whining that Chaeyoung promised to help them. She looks down at the strawberry in her hand, eats whatever is left of it and wonders, for the first time in four years, what it'd be like to taste Tzuyu's lips. 

…

Later that night, Chaeyoung writes in her notebook. Berry very good strawberry, she thinks, remembering the way Tzuyu had looked at her when she bit into the small fruit. Then Sana’s question comes into mind again: have you had your first kiss, Chaeyoungie? Yes, she has. But she wants to know what it’s like to have Tzuyu’s lips against hers instead. You should try writing something you haven’t experienced yet. What if she’ll never get to experience it though? She doesn’t know what hurts more—pretending like she doesn’t feel anything when Tzuyu enters the room or finally accepting that she wants something she can never have. 

I know only you and me, she writes slowly and carefully, knowing that the words are mini confessions she’ll never say out loud, I’ve been waiting only for you. 

…

For the first time, Chaeyoung doesn’t think of Tzuyu when she writes her lyrics for 21:29. Instead, she thinks of the fans, cheering them on, loving them, being there for them. She thinks of the past four years and how much they’ve grown. The end of the contract is fast approaching. Chaeyoung is restless. She doesn’t know if she wants time to speed up or to slow down. She doesn’t know if she wants to start her own path or to cherish the limited time she has left with her members. 

She writes I will always keep the memories, as they were.

Four years down, three more to go. Time is ticking. 

Chaeyoung glances at Tzuyu leaning on Momo’s shoulder. When Tzuyu sees her watching, she smiles. Her heart aches, even as she smiles back. Four years of writing lyrics and she can’t even tell a girl how she feels. How fucking ironic. 

...

Mina goes on hiatus and Chaeyoung thinks back to her conversation with Tzuyu several months ago. I don’t want this to end, Tzuyu had told her when Chaeyoung mentioned disbanding. It feels like something is missing when they fly to Singapore without Mina by her side, like her hand has been chopped off.

Chaeyoung closes her eyes, fighting back tears, because she misses her so much already. They’ve always been so close. They understand each other without needing words. Every time Mina is down, all Chaeyoung has to do is sit next to her and listen to the silence. Every time Chaeyoung is angry or upset, all Mina has to do is hug her and everything melts away. 

Inside their private plane, she can hear Jihyo talking to Nayeon. “Did I do something wrong?” Jihyo asks, her voice shaking, “Did I not see the signs? Was I a bad leader?”   

“It’s not your fault,” Nayeon whispers. 

“But—” Jihyo breaks down, gasping for air, “—she wanted to go on tour with us. It’s not the same without her. We’re not TWICE without Mina.” 

Momo and Sana are seated next to each other. Momo is tracing patterns on Sana’s hand, silent tears streaming down her face. Last night, before they left, Sana had a panic attack. Now she’s leaning on Momo’s shoulder, looking exhausted and sleep-deprived. 

Dahyun and Jeongyeon are in the aisle opposite them. Jeongyeon is listening to music, a beanie tucked on her head and her eyes closed. Her lips move silently to the beat of the song. Dahyun stares out the window. She is quiet. Normally, when something bad happens, she and Sana are the ones trying to cheer the group up. She must know that this is something she can’t fix with a few jokes. 

Tzuyu sniffles next to Chaeyoung. Their hands are intertwined. 

“It’s okay,” Chaeyoung murmurs, even though it isn’t, “we’ll be okay.” 

“But Minari…” Tzuyu’s eyes are red. She rarely cries. Whenever she does, it feels Chaeyoung has been stabbed in the heart. 

Chaeyoung nods quietly. “She’ll be okay.” 

This is the life of an idol, she thinks to herself, glancing out the window and at the clouds they pass by, you keep going, even if you don’t want to. 

…

Chaeyoung gets her first tattoo after they finish their tour. It’s a pair of pink strawberry lips. Everytime she looks at it, she thinks of Tzuyu. She can’t help it. The memory of Tzuyu biting into her strawberry, despite there being an entire bag full of it, is burned in the back of her mind. Tzuyu doesn’t realize the effect she has on Chaeyoung and it’s something Chaeyoung would rather not disclose for the rest of their lives. She pretends like she doesn’t think of Tzuyu when she kisses her tattoo every night before she goes to sleep. 

…

It’s been four years. 

The song in her notebook still isn’t finished. 

…

“Where’s Tzuyu?” Chaeyoung asks when she wakes up one morning only to find Tzuyu’s bed neat and made. 

Dahyun looks up from the book she’s reading. “I think she’s meeting Elkie for lunch?” 

“Oh.” It feels somebody has reached out and squeezed her heart. “Okay.” 

“It’s good, right?” Dahyun goes on, “At least she finally has someone to talk to.”

Jealousy clutches at her throat. Chaeyoung can’t breathe.

She tries to go back to sleep, running her fingers on the strawberry lips on her wrist. Her favorite tattoo. She sighs, trying not to think about Tzuyu and Elkie together. They’ve gotten closer over the years. Elkie has something Chaeyoung doesn’t—Tzuyu’s mother tongue. Maybe she should start learning Mandarin. But what’s the point, anyway? Tzuyu doesn’t like her that way. Chaeyoung has to pretend like this fact doesn’t hurt as she closes her eyes and pretends to sleep.

…

Chaeyoung gets more tattoos. Sunshine on her fingers, carrots on her wrist, tomatoes on her shoulders, shot through the heart by her ear. It’s nice—being inked with things that will last a lifetime and having something permanent on her skin. Especially when everything that she holds close to her heart isn’t. 

…

Dahyun points at the tattoo on her shoulder. “What’s this supposed to mean?” she asks. They’re alone in the van, coming home from a promotional shoot. Chaeyoung tears her gaze away from the raindrops dripping down on the window and turns her attention to her unnie. 

“The tomatoes?” she asks, raising an inquisitive brow. 

“Actually, all of it,” Dahyun deadpans. 

“Why are you asking?” 

Dahyun shrugs, crossing her legs. “It’s just,” she begins, her head tilted, “when people get tattoos, it has to have a special meaning to it, right? So that they won’t regret it later on when they get older?” 

Chaeyoung thinks about this. Truthfully, the first tattoo she got was an experiment—she saw people getting tattoos and she wanted it to try it out herself. She’s always been the type to do first, think later. Besides, the strawberry lips is a reminder of Tzuyu. All the other ones don’t hold that same special meaning. 

“I guess you could say that,” she says thoughtfully. 

“So, what do they mean?” Dahyun persists.

Chaeyoung pretends to think about it, even though she knows the answer already. “I just like them,” she says after a moment. 

Dahyun looks at her in confusion, as if she literally cannot comprehend what she just said. “But—” she says, frowning, “Is that it? What if you look back and regret that you got it in the first place? I mean, if I got a tattoo—and that’s a big if—I’d want it to be really special, you know?” 

Chaeyoung lets out a small snicker. “You’d probably get a bible verse on your forehead,” she remarks. 

“I would!” Dahyun smirks at her. “If it’s a bible verse that I really like then I’d do that.” 

“What makes you think tomatoes aren’t special to me?” 

“You tell me—are they?” 

Chaeyoung just grins. “Not really.” She pauses, touching the one by her ear, thinking of Tzuyu. “I just like them.” 

Dahyun sighs, shaking her head. “I hope you don’t regret them.” 

“Ah, Dahyunnie,” Chaeyoung says, turning her attention back to the view outside the van and tracing Tzuyu’s name over her strawberry lips; she thinks of the unfinished song in notebook tucked behind some books back in the dorms, “what’s life without a little regret?” 

...

Tzuyu spends time with Elkie on her vacation back in Taiwan. 

Chaeyoung, upon learning this, rips out the pages of her notebook, the ones holding the song she’s been trying to write for the last four years, and throws them into the trash can. Everything has gone so wrong within the past few months. First, Mina leaves. Second, she gets scolded for her tattoos. And now this—Tzuyu reaching out for somebody who isn’t Chaeyoung without worrying about having to translate her soul. 

Chaeyoung has spent most of her life pretending to be something she isn’t. It’s a coping mechanism. It thickens her skin. If she can pretend long enough then she’ll forget she was even pretending in the first place. She did this when she realized she wasn’t as loved by the world as the rest of her unnies were, she did this when the company forced her into cute little concepts she quickly got sick of, she did this when Mina packed her bags and left without any confirmation of her return.

(The things is—you can only pretend for so long before the truth reaches the surface.) 

(The truth is inevitable.) 

Chaeyoung finally realizes the futility of her actions when she finds herself in her dorm, holding her notebook with its torn edges. The door is locked. The rest of the members are out. It’s the day after Chuseok. Chaeyoung takes a deep breath and looks back down at her torn notebook. There is no song anymore, no 200% that Chaeyoung has been trying to prove, no confession that she wants to tell Tzuyu. What is left instead is the pieces of Chaeyoung’s broken heart. All her efforts are in vain. 

She grabs the pen nearest her and writes, how does it feel to lose something you never had? Tears prickle the back of her eyes. She hastily wipes them away, upset and angry at how far this has gone. She was supposed to focus on her career, to better herself, to develop new skills. Now here she is, writing about a girl who can never be hers. 

She’s never felt so defeated before. 

It feels like THIS, she answers, her hands shaking as her tears stain the paper. 

…

Chaeyoung lets herself be honest for once. 

She doesn’t know when she fell in love with Chou Tzuyu. All she knows is that one day, she woke up and couldn’t stop thinking about her. Then Tzuyu started appearing in the lyrics she wrote, in the songs she listened to, in everything she did. She wrote the rap to Precious Love with Tzuyu cheering her on, she wrote Eye Eye Eyes with Tzuyu in mind, she helped write Missing U and wrote about Tzuyu despite being upset at her, she added some lyrics to Sweet Talker that reminded her of Tzuyu, tried to give Tzuyu strength and happiness with Don’t Give Up! And Young and Wild, imagined what it would be like to kiss Tzuyu with her Strawberry song. 

Everything has been for Chou Tzuyu.

(Chaeyoung remembers that one Lana Del Rey song—it’s you, it’s you, it’s all for you, everything I do.)

(The truth of it makes her want to cry.)

All the art in the world can never compare to Tzuyu's natural beauty and charisma. All the words in the world will never be enough to express just how much Chaeyoung has grown to love Tzuyu. All the music in the world is never enough to express the hidden desires in Chaeyoung's heart. Maybe that’s okay. Maybe it’s enough to just yell into the void about how much Chaeyoung wants to be with her. Maybe it’s alright that Tzuyu will never look at her as anything more than a friend. 

Because Son Chaeyoung knows she will never be enough. 

Chaeyoung closes her eyes, taking a deep breath. She’s sitting by the balcony, the wind in her hair and the moonlight on her cheeks. Tzuyu has returned home from Taiwan and is now sleeping with Nayeon in the other room. Dahyun is still reading her book, absorbed in its contents. Chaeyoung feels alone but at the same time, she doesn’t. 

Her torn notebook lay open in front of her. 

Maybe it’s okay to write a song without Tzuyu realizing that it’s for her. 

She thinks back to what Momo said a long time ago. You should try writing something you haven’t experienced yet. She takes this suggestion and rolls with it. She keeps her eyes closed and takes another deep breath. 

For the first time, Chaeyoung detaches herself from TWICE, from the company, from what she is used to. Instead, she focuses on what she feels right now, on the dark and empty space in her heart that’s reserved for the girl she loves, on the pain and misery of having loved her for so long, despite not being loved back. 

Then she opens her eyes. 

She looks down at the pages and pretends like she’s a song composer, sitting in the dark after having just broken up with her girlfriend of four years. This is what she does best, after all—pretending. She pretends like she’s smoking a cigarette in the middle of the night, watching the stars. She pretends like there’s a conversation running through her brain—”I’m sorry but I can’t do this anymore.” She pretends like there’s another girl out there, on the other side of the city, thinking about her too. 

She angles her pen on the page, takes another deep breath and tries to write the song that’s been in her draft for the past four years—the song she’s been wanting to tell Tzuyu all this time. The song that was supposed to show her worth but just ended up becoming another love confession. 

How are you doing? she writes, imagining that there’s a real conversation taking place between her and the notebook page. 

I’m fine, she answers a few seconds later, I’m okay. She’s not but she pretends to be. If she pretends long enough, she’ll forget that she’s even pretending. 

Chaeyoung writes a break-up song, despite not having a girlfriend in the first place. 

Chaeyoung writes a break-up song, despite not having confessed her feelings. 

Chaeyoung writes a break-up song, despite feeling like she’s the one who’s been dumped. 

(For the first time since SIXTEEN, Chaeyoung lets herself go.) 

…

Everything starts getting better after that. 

Chaeyoung gets the opportunity to compose her own song for their Japanese album. It’s everything she’s wanted. Being given the chance to show the world what she’s really capable of has always been one of her goals. So she excitedly heads to the recording studio and does what she does best—be the ace of TWICE. 

…

“I didn’t know you were in a relationship,” Tzuyu says one day after they’ve finished filming for Feel Special. 

Chaeyoung looks up from her phone. They’re alone in their room. Dahyun’s been sleeping over at the unnies’ after Mina left in an effort to comfort Sana. Nothing has felt the same ever since. There’s always an empty space where Mina should be. Chaeyoung misses her more as the days go on, despite having recently filmed with her for their small scene in Feel Special.  

“I wasn’t,” Chaeyoung says, frowning at the question. 

“Really?” Tzuyu is seated on Dahyun’s bed, her phone open in one hand. “You talked about your new song being about a break-up. I thought you were with somebody and just didn't tell us. You didn't even let me read the Korean version of it yet." 

There is hurt in her voice. Chaeyoung pretends not to hear it. She's been pretending a lot, ever since Tzuyu came back from her short vacation with Elkie. The jealousy in her heart has faded but she can still taste it at the back of her throat, angry and bitter. 

"Once I'm finished composing it, I'll let you read the original version," Chaeyoung tells Tzuyu, running her fingers over her recent tattoo. A fish she drew herself. "Besides," she adds, almost as an afterthought, "if I were dating anybody, you'd be the first to know." 

Tzuyu smiles. For some reason, it doesn't reach her eyes. "Not Mina-unnie or Dahyunnie?" she asks. 

Chaeyoung looks at her carefully. “You’re my best friend,” she says. This is the truth, this is why it hurts too. 

“Yah!” Tzuyu grins, bright and infectious. “You’re my best friend too!” 

Chaeyoung’s fingers still on her fish tattoo. She pretends like the words don’t stab her right where it hurts the most. She grins in return. “Of course.” 

…

Chaeyoung spends time with Mina before she has to fly back to Japan. They wear white masks, black caps and casual clothes, and head to the nearest coffee shop. Their managers follow them from a short distance away, giving them enough space but not enough to lose sight of them. Thankfully, nobody recognizes them. It helps that the cafe they picked is tucked in a little corner a few ways away from the popular spots. When they enter, only a handful of people are inside.

“I’m glad that I was able to join this comeback,” Mina says later, her eyes crinkling at the corners. Despite the white mask, Chaeyoung knows she’s smiling. 

“I’m happy that you were able to,” Chaeyoung says, taking a sip of her Iced Americano, “even though our scene was cheesy as hell.” 

Mina laughs. “You’re a better partner than Dahyun—she kept doing her eyebrow dance thing when we were filming What is Love? I couldn’t stop laughing.” 

They laugh at the memory of their time on the What is Love? set. Those were good memories. Chaeyoung remembers how Dahyun would always pull the wackiest faces just to make them break out of character. She remembers Jeongyeon and Sana trying to smear each other with clay. She also remembers the way Nayeon whined at the cluster-fuck that was her hair. The memory of Tzuyu's angel costume comes to mind then and she sighs, running her fingers against the strawberry lips tattoo on her wrist. Tzuyu looked beautiful back then, as she always does. 

Mina hums, growing quiet. She pulls down her mask and takes a sip of her chocolate drink, which always helps calm her down. Her eyes are fixed on Chaeyoung. 

"Is there something on your mind?" she asks. 

Chaeyoung looks up, embarrassed. "Sorry," she mutters, "I was just thinking about the song I'm composing." 

"It sounds really good—I listened to it while you were in the studio." 

"Thanks, unnie." 

"I'm just curious," Mina begins slowly, leaning forward and placing her hand on Chaeyoung's wrist, right on top of her strawberry tattoo, "about how Tzuyu would feel once she understands it." 

Chaeyoung jolts, nearly spilling her drink all over her lap. Thankfully, she doesn't. Her reaction must not have been very subtle because Mina gives her a knowing look, her hand still holding her wrist. "What are you talking about?" she asks, laughing nervously, "Why would you care about Tzuyu's reaction? It's just a song." 

"You and I both know it's not just a song," Mina murmurs, sighing, "You think you have everybody fooled, don't you? Not me. You can never hide anything from me, Chaeyoung-ah." 

Chaeyoung wants to save whatever is left of her pride and deny whatever Mina is trying to insinuate. But then Mina gives her that puppy-eyed look nobody in the entire freaking world can ever resist and all the fight leaves her bones. She lets her head drop against her table, sighing in shame and admitting defeat. Of all the people she expected to figure out her feelings for Tzuyu, she's glad it's Mina. If it had been Jeongyeon or Sana, they'd never let her live it down. 

"How'd you know?" Chaeyoung grumbles, rubbing the bridge of her nose. 

"It's the way you look at her," Mina answers simply, "You look at her like she's your whole world." 

"That's cheesy, unnie." 

A pause. Mina takes another sip of her chocolate. "Is she?" she asks. 

"Is she what?" 

"Your whole world." 

Chaeyoung resists the urge to lie her way through and pretend like Mina didn't just come across a pile of gold. Or in this case, a pile of truth that she's been resisting for the past four years. Her breathing turns shallow. Her fingers tighten into fists. They only relax when Mina opens her palms and rubs their hands together. Slowly but surely, Chaeyoung lets herself open up. 

(It's been a long time coming—Chaeyoung can get tired of pretending too.) 

"She is," she confesses, feeling tears prickle the back of her eyes, "she always has been." 

"Why don't you tell her?" Mina asks softly, looking at her with the saddest expression on her face. 

"I have," Chaeyoung answers, laughing humorlessly, "Everything that I've written for our b-sides—they were all for her." 

It feels strange—confessing everything after holding it in for so long. Chaeyoung has always kept to herself, not out of shyness, like Mina, or out of a language barrier, like Tzuyu. She keeps to herself because she knows it's a way to protect her heart. If she doesn't let the world see her for who she truly is, then they can't use it against her. Perhaps this is why she's the least loved out of her members. People radiate to the ones who open up their arms and welcome them in, like Jihyo or Sana. They don't love Chaeyoung as much because deep down inside, other than her love for strawberries and tattoos, do they really know her that well? 

Mina squeezes her hand and she looks up. There is a fierceness in her gaze that Chaeyoung has nearly forgotten—it's been a long time since Mina has looked so passionate about something.

"You don't have to hide anything from me," her unnie says, lips set in a straight line, "I know you, Chaeyoung. You can't bottle everything up." 

"It's just a stupid crush," Chaeyoung deflects, avoiding her gaze.

"We both know it's not." Mina traces circles all over Chaeyoung's palm. "You love her."

Chaeyoung grows quiet, staring down at the surface of the table. "I don't know what to do," she admits. She wants to cry but manages not to.

Mina reaches over and tilts her head up. She smiles. "You do what you do best," she murmurs, tracing the beauty mark under Chaeyoung's lip, "Be brave." 

…

Nayeon suddenly comes into Chaeyoung's room a week after Mina leaves for Japan. "Hey," the eldest says, "have you seen my neck pillow? I can't seem to find it anywhere." 

"I haven't." Chaeyoung is in the middle of painting. Thank God Dahyun and Tzuyu are still out attending a radio show. Otherwise, they’d complain the whole time about the paint getting into their clothes and beddings. Nayeon’s attention moves towards the image she’s drawing—it’s of a heart with several swords stuck into it, the red paint bleeding into the sides and accumulating at the bottom of the canvas. 

“Are you okay?” Nayeon asks. 

“Yeah.” Chaeyoung picks up her brush and dips it into the black paint. “Just letting some things out.” She drags the end of it onto the canvas, adding some shadows into the heart. She likes to think when she paints or draws. But now, all that’s left in her thoughts is her conversation with Mina. Be brave, Mina had told her. How can she brave when it comes to Chou Tzuyu?  

“You can always talk to me,” her unnie says. 

Chaeyoung smiles at her. “I know, Nayeonnie.” 

Nayeon nods, walking away. Chaeyoung turns to her painting again, trying to purge herself of such negative emotions. She’s about to dip her paintbrush onto the color blue, just to accentuate some lightness onto her painting, when Nayeon suddenly pops her head back into her room and says, “Chaeyoungie!” 

Nearly dropping her paintbrush, Chaeyoung gives Nayeon a death glare. “What!” 

“You’re doing it again.”

“Doing what?” 

“Shutting yourself out.” Nayeon enters the room then, her hands clasped loosely behind her back. “You always paint and draw whenever you’re upset about something.” 

Chaeyoung doesn’t deny this. They’ve lived together for four years, after all. There are some truths about each of the members that they all know about. For example, Nayeon takes long walks with Jihyo every time she gets overwhelmed by the number of things they have to do. On the other hand, Sana slips into Japanese when she gets too emotional. They all have their way of dealing with heavy emotions. For Chaeyoung, its painting or drawing. It helps clear her head while keeping her hands busy. So, she just shrugs and continues to paint despite Nayeon’s accusation. “What about it?” she asks. 

“That’s bad.” 

“I’m aware.” 

Nayeon takes a seat on Tzuyu’s bed, staring her down. “I know that I haven’t been the best unnie out there,” she begins, looking ready to deliver the most emotional speech ever. But before she can continue, Chaeyoung is already shaking her head. 

“You don’t need to worry about me,” she presses, putting her paintbrush down and glaring at her canvas, “I promise you—I’m really okay.” 

“Hey, I had this whole speech planned—” 

“I don’t want to hear it.” 

Nayeon pouts, looking disappointed at having been cut off. Chaeyoung, feeling bad about the whole thing, finally turns to look at her unnie. Nayeon stares back at her, still using her best puppy eyes. She sighs. It’s not like she can’t tell Nayeon about what’s on her mind—she just doesn’t want to burden her with something she can obviously deal on her own. She just needs to gather the stupid courage to do so. 

“Sorry,” she mutters, sitting down next to her. She’s careful not to smear paint all over Tzuyu’s mattress. “There’s a lot on my mind.” 

“Do you want to talk about it?” 

Chaeyoung shakes her head. “Not really.” 

“Hey, I give out good advice too, you know!” Nayeon looks away, aghast. “I can’t believe I wrote you a song and this is the thanks I get.” 

Chaeyoung chuckles, looking down at her tattoos. Her mind goes back to her conversation with Mina last week. “Wait,” she says, finally catching up to what Nayeon just said, “you wrote me a song?” 

“Rainbow!” Again, Nayeon looks hurt. 

“I thought you were just talking about the rap,” Chaeyoung persists, remembering their showcase where Nayeon said that she wrote the rap with her in mind. 

“Oh.” Nayeon shrugs, playing with a loose thread on her shirt. “Well, no. I wasn’t really being honest. I didn’t want to go out there and tell the world I wrote a song called ‘Rainbow’ and dedicated it to you. People might get the wrong idea.” She laughs bitterly. There are some things that Nayeon hates about idol life, after all. “But yeah, Chaeng, I wrote it for you.” 

Chaeyoung tries to remember the lyrics. “You can go anywhere,” she sings, her eyes on Nayeon, who looks up and smiles at her, “Wherever you want.”

“It’s not too late,” Nayeon picks up, her smile widening, “you can get to the purple line.” 

They both laugh and let the silence envelop them. Chaeyoung smiles, her heart full. Lyric writing has always held a special place in her heart. It’s like leaving bits of your soul in music. She didn’t think Nayeon would take the time to dedicate an entire song for her. Especially since she liked Rainbow the second she heard the lyrics. It was an inspirational one, sending out a message that you shouldn’t be afraid of who you are and what you have to offer. The fact that Nayeon wrote it for her… the thought is enough to make her eyes burn. 

“Nayeonnie?” she asks, her voice shaking. She closes her eyes to prevent the tears from falling. She’s been doing that a lot lately. When she feels Nayeon reach over and intertwine their fingers together, she opens them again and twists to her side. 

“Yeah?” Nayeon’s expression is soft. She looks every bit the eldest unnie they all look up to. “What is it?” 

“Do you think I’m brave?” The question is asked in a hushed whisper. 

Nayeon tugs Chaeyoung close, letting her melt into her side. “Oh, baby,” she says, her voice a comfort Chaeyoung desperately needs at this moment. She rubs soothing circles on the younger one’s back, keeping her steady and grounded. Then she presses a kiss on Chaeyoung’s forehead. “I think you’re the bravest,” Nayeon whispers. 

…

Chaeyoung has written Tzuyu so many songs in the past four years. 

People might think she’s romantic for doing so. She wants to laugh. She wishes that was the case. She knows it’s not. The reason why she wrote so many songs but never told Tzuyu about her feelings is because she’s a coward. She’s always been a coward. 

But Mina and Nayeon have told her that she’s brave. 

And she’s never been one to disappoint her unnies. 

…

Tzuyu is alone in their room one day when Chaeyoung gets home from the recording studio. Nayeon and Jeongyeon are in the kitchen, arguing about what to make for dinner. Sana and Jihyo are out buying groceries. Momo is still in the dance studio, practicing for their next comeback. Lastly, Dahyun is talking to her mom on the phone in the living room. Everybody’s stuck in their own world but they don’t forget to greet Chaeyoung as she passes them by. 

“Hey,” Tzuyu says when Chaeyoung enters, “How was it?” 

“It’s good.” Chaeyoung smiles brightly. “It’s all coming together.” 

Tzuyu hums. “Does that mean you’ll let me read the original version now?” 

Chaeyoung stops in the middle of taking off her jacket. She can feel Tzuyu’s expectant gaze burning holes on her back. Right. She did promise to let Tzuyu read the original version. The thought of it is enough to get her heart to start pounding. A part of her wants to laugh it off and come up with another lame excuse. Another part of her just wants to get it over with. If Tzuyu has any questions, Chaeyoung can pretend like the song isn’t meant for her. If Tzuyu doesn’t understand the meaning behind the words, then so be it. 

Mina’s voice whispers in her head—you do what you do best: be brave. 

“Okay.” She takes a deep breath, touching the tattoo by her ear. “Let me get it first.” 

Tzuyu claps her hands excitedly, watching with eager eyes as Chaeyoung moves to her study table. She reaches over the stack of books leaning against the wall and plucks her notebook from behind it. Time seems to move slowly then as she takes a step back, only to find Tzuyu already standing near her. 

Chaeyoung’s breath catches in her throat at their close proximity. 

“Such a bad hiding spot, Chaengie,” Tzuyu comments, her eyes on the study table. 

“But you didn’t know about it, did you?” Chaeyoung mutters, scoffing lightly as she hands Tzuyu the notebook. It’s edges have been torn but thankfully, it’s still held together by the spring. Her heart clenches. It feels like she’s just given up her soul. 

Tzuyu smiles cheekily back at her, returning to her bed with the notebook now in her possession. Chaeyoung inhales deeply again, trying her best not to feel like she’s seconds away from a panic attack. Compared to Mina and Nayeon, opening up to Tzuyu is going to be one of the hardest things she has to do. And yet, she knows she has to do it. She has to be brave. If not for herself, then for her unnies who believe in her. So she runs her fingers through her short dark hair and takes a seat on Dahyun’s bed, facing Tzuyu as she flips through the pages to come across Chaeyoung’s song. 

It’s been stuck in her drafts for the past four years now. Chaeyoung initially wanted to write it to show PD-nim what she was capable of. Then it turned to her wanting to write something to show the world that she deserves to be loved too. She doesn’t know when it exactly turned to her just wanting to tell Chou Tzuyu just how much she’s been in love with her for the last four years. She doesn’t regret it anyway. It’s the first song she gave her 200% to. Tzuyu deserves nothing less, after all. 

“How You Doin,’” Tzuyu reads, sending Chaeyoung a quick smile. For a split second, Chaeyoung is afraid she might actually read the whole thing out loud. Thankfully, Tzuyu doesn’t. 

Chaeyoung watches in silence as Tzuyu’s eyes scan the words written in the page, words she doesn’t know is meant for her. She watches as Tzuyu’s eyebrows furrow in confusion, watches as Tzuyu’s smile fades, watches as Tzuyu rereads the entire thing from start to finish. Tzuyu is nothing short of meticulous. It takes her two more readings before she finally shuts the notebook and looks up at Chaeyoung.

“Chaeyoung,” she says, her frown still in place, “Are you okay?” 

Chaeyoung smiles, rubbing the back of her neck. “Yeah,” she answers, “of course I am. I told you, I didn’t really go through a break-up.”

“But the words you wrote…” Tzuyu looks back at the notebook. Chaeyoung sees her visibly swallow. “They just seem so… real. Like you actually went through a heartbreak, like you actually... loved someone who didn’t love you back.”

Nayeon’s words whisper in her ears: I think you’re the bravest. 

“I did,” Chaeyoung confesses, squeezing her eyes shut as the truth of the past four years finally catches up to her. Her smile turns bitter. “I wrote that song for someone who didn’t love me back.” 

Tzuyu scoffs. “Who would be stupid enough not to love you?” She sounds genuinely at a loss. It makes Chaeyoung want to laugh. Because, truthfully—who would ever love someone like her? 

Silence. Chaeyoung takes another deep breath. She thinks about the past four years, of hiding behind lyrics and songs, watching Tzuyu everytime she enters the room, wishing for a love that she can never have. She thinks of her anger and frustration at being given so little, knowing that she can give back so much more. She thinks of jealousy in the back of her throat at the thought of Tzuyu and Elkie together. She thinks of strawberry lips and wonders what it would be like to taste it for real. 

“I wrote it for you,” Chaeyoung says, staring at the girl she loves more than anything else in this world. 

Tzuyu, understandably, is caught off guard. Her eyes widen and her lips part. She stares at Chaeyoung, an array of different emotions coursing through her features. At first, she looks shocked. Then confused. And then understanding finally sets in. 

“You… you did what?” Tzuyu asks, looking back down at the notebook in her hands. Her fingers are shaking. “You wrote this for me?”

“Yes.” 

“But…” Tzuyu whispers, sounding at a loss for words. 

Chaeyoung ducks her head, smiling sadly. No need to remind me, she thinks to herself. “I’ve always written songs for you, Tzuyu-ya,” she says. Now that the truth is out, she can’t help but keep confessing them; the words rush past her lips like the gush of waterfall, relentless and limitless, “You just never listened closely enough.” 

Tzuyu shakes her head, looking stunned. “What are you talking about?” she asks, sounding agitated, “What songs? You never—” 

“Precious Love,” Chaeyoung interrupts gently, humming the tune, “Come and hug me, I want to be by you forever.” 

Tzuyu shuts her mouth, her eyes widening again. Chaeyoung can’t blame her. All she wanted was to read a song, not have her best friend confess her feelings for her. She can imagine what’s going on through Tzuyu’s head. The songs that they’ve been singing for the past several years—they were actually for her. It’s enough to feel like the world has tipped on its axis. Chaeyoung feels bad about this. Tzuyu doesn’t need this right now. 

But Chaeyoung needs to be brave—she needs to do this for herself. 

“Eye Eye Eyes,” she continues, “like the sea, I want to swim in them, yeah.” 

Tzuyu continues to stare at her. For the first time, she listens to what Chaeyoung’s been trying to say in their songs. And for the first time, Chaeyoung doesn’t pretend like it doesn’t terrify her. 

“Missing U,” she whispers, feeling tears burn the back of her eyes, “but I still wanna see you, miss you baby.” 

Her heart feels like it’s going to shatter inside her chest. She shakes her head and continues on, heedless of the consequences. If she doesn’t say everything she needs to say now, she’ll hate herself forever. What’s life without a little regret? she told Dahyun once. She needs to own up to her own words. 

“Don’t need to look far,” she sings Don’t Give Up with a shaky voice, “it’s right in front of you, anyone can see how valuable you are.” 

“Chaeyoung-ah…” Tzuyu sounds so pained that Chaeyoung almost stops herself. She doesn’t, though. 

“Let me finish,” she pleads, wiping hastily at her eyes. She hates crying—it makes her feel like she’s not a grown-up. “I—I need to say this. I’ll hate myself if I don’t.”

Tzuyu sighs before she purses her lips and nods. Her eyes are so soft it makes Chaeyoung want to stop talking altogether and just drown in them. 

“My heart is getting weak because of you,” she continues, clenching her fists tightly, “shaking up my heart you you, in my head it’s only you you you.” She lets the tune of Sweet Talker fill the air between them. Tzuyu shifts in her bed, looking like she wants to reach out and touch her. Chaeyoung wants to do the same but she holds herself back. She can’t stop now. She’s halfway through. The truth needs to be said in wholes, not halves. She needs to make Tzuyu see how deeply she’s fallen and how much she’d continue to fall, just for her. 

She takes another deep breath.

“We are young and wild, I want to live life my way, I don’t care,” she sings, “I wrote that after we talked about disbanding for the first time.”

Tzuyu nods, also remembering. Chaeyoung glances down at the strawberry lips on her wrist. When she looks back up, she sees that Tzuyu’s gaze has flickered down to stare at the tattoo as well. “Strawberry, too?” their maknae asks, her voice quiet. 

“I know only you and me,” Chaeyoung whispers, “I’ve been waiting only for you.” 

Silence again. Tzuyu stares at her hard. Chaeyoung looks away, unable to hold such intensity. Her face is warm. She feels ashamed. It feels like Tzuyu has seen right through her soul and she doesn’t like it one bit. She’s always been so good at hiding herself from the world. But now she’s bared her deepest secrets to Chou Tzuyu and it feels a lot like dying, if she has to say so herself. 

“I’m sorry,” she says, “I wasn’t planning on telling you—”

“Why not?” Tzuyu asks, her voice full of hurt. She stands up from the bed and comes to sit next to her. They’re so close that Chaeyoung can easily reach out and embrace Tzuyu. She doesn’t. She knows she doesn’t deserve it. She feels like Tantalus, suffering in the Underworld. So starved and thirsty for a slice of bread or a drop of water but knowing that she can never have it. This feels like the worst punishment of all.

Chaeyoung glances at her. “Because,” she says quietly, “I’m a coward.” 

“No, you’re not,” Tzuyu says firmly, reaching out and holding her hands; Chaeyoung resists the urge to pull away, “you’re the bravest person I know. You always have been.”

“But I’m not,” Chaeyoung argues, rubbing her eyes tiredly, “I’ve never been brave. I never tell people about my feelings. I always hide behind songs and lyrics. I draw and paint when I’m upset. I would’ve been happy living my entire life without telling you about my feelings, Tzuyu-ya. Do you know why? Because I’m good at pretending. I’m good at pretending to be brave when I’m not. I’m good at pretending that it doesn’t hurt when I look at you, even though it does. I’m good at pretending that I don’t love you, even though I do.”

“You love me?” Tzuyu repeats. There are tears in her eyes but she wipes them away. Like Chaeyoung, she also hates crying.

Chaeyoung allows herself to lean forward, her head dropping on Tzuyu’s shoulder. “I do,” she confesses again. It feels like a weight has been lifted off her chest. “Of course I do. I’ve loved you for so long, Tzuyu-ya.” 

Tzuyu’s hand comes up to rest on her head. She shifts, bringing them closer until they’re close enough for an embrace. Chaeyoung’s arms wrap around Tzuyu’s middle. She breathes her in. “I’m sorry,” she whispers against her shoulder, “I don’t want anything to change between us.” 

“I’m afraid that’s not an option.”

Chaeyoung’s heart drops to her stomach. Oh, she thinks to herself, already bracing herself. This is the part where Tzuyu tells her that they should stay as friends. This is the part where Chaeyoung gets her heart broken. This is the part where they break up, not as lovers but as friends. This is what Chaeyoung gets for being brave. 

“I understand,” she mutters, pulling away. 

Tzuyu gives her a quizzical look. “I didn’t even say anything yet.”

“I know that you’re going to tell me that we can still be friends.” 

Once again, Tzuyu’s eyebrows furrow in confusion. “But,” she begins, her hands coming up to cradle Chaeyoung’s face, “I don’t want to be friends.”  

Something completely foreign and unknown flutters in Chaeyoung’s chest. She realizes, a split second later, that it’s hope. She’s forgotten what that feels like. Still, a part of her can’t help but feel like this is too good to be true. She needs to be cautious. So she tilts her head to the side and asks a question that can either make or break her, “What do you want, Tzuyu-ya?”

Tzuyu smiles. Her eyes are sparkling. “Son Chaeyoung,” she says, leaning close so that their foreheads are touching. She inhales deeply, as if gathering enough courage. Then her smile widens as she continues, “you’re so dumb.”

Chaeyoung chokes out a laugh. “What for?”

“For thinking that I don’t feel the same way,” Tzuyu whispers. One hand moves to wrap around the back of Chaeyoung’s neck, the other drops down to intertwined their fingers together. They’re so close that if Chaeyoung leans forward, their lips would touch. She doesn’t, though. This moment is too fragile, too perfect. She doesn’t want to do anything to ruin it. But she’s also  afraid that she might've misread this whole thing.

“You feel the same way?” she asks quietly, squeezing her eyes shut and bracing herself for the rejection. She needs to know.

The rejection doesn’t come.

“Yes,” Tzuyu answers, her eyes fluttering close. Their noses brush against each other. “Of course I do. Who would be stupid enough not to love you?” 

Chaeyoung laughs. She’s aware that there are tears streaming down her cheeks. She doesn’t care though. Because Chou Tzuyu loves her back. The pain and misery she experienced the past four years is nothing compared to the short seconds of happiness she feels right now, after hearing Tzuyu’s confirmation. She feels so, so stupid. But she wouldn’t have it any other way. 

“Chaeyoung-ah,” Tzuyu whispers, “Can I kiss you?” 

Chaeyoung thinks of strawberry lips and nods. I’ve been waiting only for you, the song whispers in her head. She watches as Tzuyu inhales sharply. Then she leans forward and presses their mouths together. It’s everything Chaeyoung expects it to be—soft and sweet. Tzuyu is gentle and hesitant, as if she’s afraid she’s doing something wrong. Chaeyoung squeezes her hand to let her know that it’s okay, that this is something she’s wanted for a very, very long time.  

Her five senses are filled with Tzuyu, Tzuyu, Tzuyu. Behind her closed eyes, she can see Tzuyu the first time she saw her back in their trainee days—wearing a long padded coat and looking so gorgeous that for a second, Chaeyoung thought she was a model. Her nose catches the scent of lemon Tzuyu uses for her shampoo. Her tongue can taste the raspberry lip balm Tzuyu uses on a daily basis. She can also hear her own heart beating loudly inside her chest. If she listens closely enough, she knows she can hear Tzuyu’s too. Lastly, she can feel the words Tzuyu murmurs against her mouth, a confession meant only for her ears. Chaeyoung, I love you. 

Chaeyoung whispers it back. 

After a minute, they pull away. Tzuyu keeps her close, though. She’s smiling. “You know,” she begins, placing a soft kiss on Chaeyoung’s beauty mark, “you didn’t have to write me a song.” 

Chaeyoung chuckles. “But it wouldn’t be as romantic, right?” 

“Pabo.” Tzuyu kisses her again. “I can’t believe you weren’t going to tell me.”

Chaeyoung glances at the torn notebook sitting on Tzuyu’s bed—the one holding the song she’s been trying to write for the past four years. She smiles. “Yeah,” she agrees, wrapping her arms around Tzuyu and pulling her close, “I’m here, though. I was brave enough.”

Tzuyu hums, pressing another kiss on her forehead. “The bravest,” she whispers.