“I think we can get it shut. Just sit on it. Have you tried sitting on it?”

“Are you sure we need this many shoes?”

“We can do it! We can do it!”

Jun, Wonwoo, and Joshua are struggling to close a suitcase. Seventeen is preparing to go on vacation for the variety show One Fine Day, their destination a mystery as of yet. All three of them are packed together in one suitcase for this trip, attempting to be conservative with space. As a large group they must always consider these things. Luggage can get out of hand quickly among 13 people.

“Don’t you think it’s suspicious that the CEO bought us a meal recently?” Dino asks, but it falls on inattentive ears as the rest of the guys are pumped for the trip; it’s early in the AM and they’ll be departing in the next few hours.

Though it’s cold and rainy, Jun and the group’s mood remains high as they travel. Their spirits are bolstered by the thought of a fun, relaxing vacation—their first real one in the seven months since their debut.

After a meal they arrive at a boat terminal and get their tickets, and then hurry to the dock once they realize that the ferry is departing soon.

Suddenly, to Jun’s confusion, the filming staff calls their attention and confiscates their phones and wallets and hands out small plastic bags. As everyone in Seventeen is in the midst of trying to make sense of what’s going on, one of the filming PD’s announces that they have one minute to make a survival kit out of their luggage, starting now.

“What???” All of the boys complain, stupefied, but the clock is already ticking down.

“The bag is too small!” Dokyeom exclaims.

“Everyone, put on your big coats!” Seungcheol calls out to remind everyone in the midst of their hurry.

“What kind of ‘One Fine Day’ is this?” Seungkwan whines, dumbfounded by the whole ordeal.

Everyone packs their bags in hurried panic, the dock a mess and strewn with their open suitcases.

And just like that, the minute is up and they are being swiftly herded onto the boat, forced to abandon the rest of their belongings on the dock. They turn back to see their regular staff of managers and stylists waving goodbye as the boat pulls away. The confusing whirlwind is left behind them but reality hasn’t registered yet.

Their phones and wallets are gone. They have no staff aside from the crew filming them. They each have only the possessions that fit into a gallon sized plastic bag. They’re headed to a tiny island for an entire week.

And then it hits him: they’re being castaway.

Weibo group chat

Tzuyu, 6 January, 7:47pm: We’re performing in China tomorrow ( * _ *; )

Tzuyu, 7 January, 9:13am: How is your One Fine Day filming going, guys?

Tzuyu, 7 January, 6:22pm: must be fun :P

Tzuyu, 8 January, 10:06am: …….

Tzuyu, 8 January, 8:46pm: ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

Tzuyu is frustrated that none of her messages to Minghao or Jun are being answered. She knows they’re in Jeju filming for One Fine Day, but they can at least check their phones once in a while, can’t they? It’s been 3 days already since she last heard from them.

“Wow, we’re getting a lot of Chinese comments on our instagram right now,” Chaeyoung remarks, scrolling under their most recent picture.

“Let me see,” Tzuyu says, reaching out for Chae to hand her the phone.

At that moment the Music Core PD enters their waiting room.

“Girls, you’re on deck.”

“Later,” Chaeyoung says, locking her phone and dropping it on the couch. The girls take to the stage and after a few recordings manage to finish their filming for the day.

Tzuyu will know what the comments are saying before long.

Jun spends the week mostly just surviving with the other Seventeen members. It’s a good thing they’re close and have strong teamwork, because otherwise such a hardship would undoubtedly fracture some of their relationships. They owe much of that to Seungcheol for laying out expectations ahead of time and calling meetings to discuss the groups conflicts regularly.

They have to earn all of their food, at first through fishing and then later on in the week the crew grows merciful and allows them to win it through games. No rice for days on end had been shortening Jun’s fuse. They still have to light their own fires to cook anything, but thank god for Mingyu’s hidden chef skills because otherwise their menus would be pretty grim. Jun wishes he’d been able to bring a change of clothes, though; showering and then putting dirty clothes back on at the end still left him feeling grubby.

Earning their luggage back towards the end of the stay feels like a godsend. Still no wallet or phones, but clothes! Socks! The joy he never knew he could feel from putting on a clean t-shirt!

Towards the end of the week their stay on the island begins to feel fun. They establish a rhythm to their days and now that they have clothes and food, they can focus more on enjoying their free time, playing games with one another and exploring the island. At the end it feels a little bittersweet, leaving the whole thing behind.

The crew tricks them until the bitter end, though. On the day of Seventeen’s departure, the boat to freedom in their sights, they get divided into teams for a game and the losing team has to spend another lonely day on the island. Jun’s team loses, and he starts to wonder if they’ll ever get to leave this godforsaken rock. That sentimentality from earlier in the day? Nowhere to be found.

The winning team—Seungcheol, Jeonghan, Joshua, Dokyeom, Woozi and Minghao—waves to them from the boat as they depart. They shout sorry but they don’t look it, not even a little bit.

The next morning Jun and the rest of the Seventeen members left castaway on Yeoseodo finally make it off of the island. They get their phones back, but they’re all predictably dead. The journey back to Seoul is long, and he feels antsy from being bored already. The sight of their dorm building is welcoming in a way unlike it ever has been.

“Jun, have you heard about Tzuyu?” is nearly the first thing he hears when he walks in the dorm.

“No, what’s up?” He says, dropping his bags.

“Come look,” Seungcheol beckons him; he’s seated on the floor next to Minghao with his laptop open and perched atop his legs.

“She’s not replying to my messages, either,” Minghao says as Jun strips off his coat. Jun makes his way over and bends down to look at the computer screen where Seungcheol has Naver pulled up.

“Look at this,” Seungcheol says, typing her name in the search bar and pressing enter. Jun scans the headlines on the results page.

Tzuyu Under Fire in China for Taiwanese Independence Support

Zhou Tzuyu Censored from Chinese Government TV Station, CCTV

Chinese Netizens Outraged by JYP’s Response to Beijing TV’s Demands

Taiwanese Politicians Comment on the Zhou Tzuyu Controversey

Amidst Flag Controversey, LG Huawai Terminates contract with Zhou Tzuyu, Twice

Chinese Netizens Call for Ban on All JYP Artists, Flag Controversy to Blame

Tzuyu Flag Scandal: Singaporean Politicians Weigh In

The further Jun reads the tighter his chest clenches. This is not good.

Tzuyu’s locked down in her dorm, all schedules for the group cancelled. An invisible tense fog settles around her members, and Tzuyu doesn’t even want to go out in the common area to face them. What just a few days ago felt like an endless upward trajectory for their group has been ground to a screeching halt. JYPE is protecting her, she knows, but she also knows that the public contempt towards her in China is only growing by the day. She hopes with futility that this will die down soon enough.

Tzuyu gets summoned to the JYP building the next morning, January 12th, and informed that they’re flying her mom to Korea and will have a meeting about ‘where to proceed going forward’ when she gets there. She should be happy to see her mom but this can only mean something bad, something worse than what she’d already endured, in fact.

She can’t avoid the messages in the news, even on the short walk back to her dorm while obscured in a mask, sunglasses, hat and padding. Thank god it’s winter and she blends in.

It’s everywhere, on the magazines, scrolling across the news billboards, people talking about it in the street. She feels closing up in emotion, tears burning threateningly in the corners of her eyes from the sheer magnitude of it all.

Silently (because could she cry any other way?) the tears slip out, leaving itchy salt tracks where they dry. Her manager is stone-faced, unlike the usual jovial conversation she tries to have with Tzuyu in spite of the language barrier. There are no schedules to discuss, and there isn’t much to laugh about, so they walk at a brisk clip back to her dorm in near silence.

When they get back to the dorm, Tzuyu shuts herself away in her room, weakly brushing off her group members’ concerned greetings. She shuts her bedroom door and slides down it to sit on the floor, burying her face in her hands. How could she have ruined things for so many people? She feels like she is going to implode with guilt and frustration at herself. She is angry with herself for dismissing her unnies on the way in because their futures rest on her actions, but she knows that she’ll just end up sobbing if she tries to talk to them. She couldn’t dare ask for their support right now, not when she is at the crux of their misfortune.

The computer is on Chae’s bed, and she must be a glutton for punishment because she crawls over to it on her hands and knees. She wants to see what the company has been shielding her from in full. She wants to see they’re saying about her on Weibo.

She ignores her blinking messages and searches through the hashtags. She doesn’t have to look far; both #boycottTzuyu and #boycottJYPE are trending.

[+4,357, -12] If you don’t love China stop coming here to earn money.
[+3,281, -31] Traitor. We will fight all pro-independence supporters to the end.
[+6,212, -23] JYP is dirty. Their artists should stop taking Chinese money if it’s going to be like this
[+7,238, -36] Get out of China. Being 16 is no excuse.
[5,245, -18] She should really make a public apology for this.
[+2,891, -16] Too bad, JYP had some good artists. Can’t support them after this.

There are many more comments, some calling her a dog and a along with a whole host of other horrible defamatory names. But the comments that hurt the most are about her group and her company, and JYP for defending her. Her actions are having a ripple effect tantamount to a tsunami. She wants to scream out to the world I didn’t mean it. I just grew up there and didn’t think there was anything wrong with holding up the flag. I didn’t mean to say anything about China.

But she is a public figure, and so it doesn’t matter what she really means; there are only the intentions that people ascribe to her.

Jun is beyond concerned about Tzuyu. His messages to her go unanswered, and unread for that matter. Every day, every few hours in fact, the situation seems to spiral into worse and worse territory. What at first had seemed like something that might blow over has become something that he can’t avoid no matter where he looks. It seems like every day another country’s government has something to say about it and there seems like nothing will ebb the flow of anger from the Chinese public. It’s evolving into a massive political controversy and the sassy, genuine, selfless 17-year-old girl he knows is stuck at the epicenter.

Minghao hasn’t heard back from her, either. When his group members ask him about her he only draws up a blank. He feels like his hands are cut off, with no way of communicating with her; he doesn’t even have her phone number, and her dorm building is constantly crowded with gawkers and press, not that he even knows which floor or room she’s in. He hadn’t realized how reliant they’d been on weibo until he couldn’t get through to her that way.

20160113
"Recently, there have been various malicious rumors circulating on the internet concerning one of our artists, Zhou Tzuyu. With regard to this, we are deeply regretful.
JYPE is a multi-cultural company. We have always tried to encourage and further Sino-Korea cross-cultural interaction. Our company (including Tzuyu) has never engaged in political debate and has never taken a stance regarding Chinese territorial issues.
Furthermore, Tzuyu, the victim of these malicious rumours, is merely a 17-year-old girl. She has yet to form a solid political opinion regarding Chinese territorial issues, given her age and lack of experience.
Because of the above-mentioned malicious rumors, JYPE's everyday operations in China have been negatively affected. The longstanding cordial relationship that we have had with China has been greatly inconvenienced.
To remedy this situation, our company has decided to temporarily withdraw Tzuyu from all China-related promotional activities, until the truth regarding this matter is finally revealed."
-JYP Entertainment

JYP releases an apology that’s not an apology on the 13th and the response on Weibo is unlike anything Jun has ever seen before; unmitigated vitriol is funneled directly in Tzuyu, Twice, and JYP’s direction. Companies are dropping her for endorsements and blacklisting Twice and he’s coming up empty-handed with the only way he has to get in touch.

First it’s just her, and then stories of her threats against other JYP artists begin to surface. He reads online that one of her sunbaes, Nichkhun, landed in China for his regular schedules only to immediately turn tail and return to Korea. They’d been planning to mob him at the airport, so the story goes. Jun tries his best to focus in dance practice—Seventeen is performing at the Seoul Music Awards the next day—but every break he gets he compulsively checks his phone, willing a message to appear. Nothing.

Tzuyu finally checks her weibo messages, which are filled with concern from her friends and family in Taiwan, along with messages from her friends in the china line chat. She checks Minghao and Jun’s messages first.

Weibo

Minghao, 3 days ago, 3:38pm: Tzuyu I’m sorry for the unkind things that people are saying. I am here for you if you want to talk. Fighting!

Minghao, 2 day ago, 2:16pm: Stay strong, Tzuyu. I support you. Please message me when you get a chance.

Minghao, 1 day ago, 3:57pm: Hope you’re hanging in there. Tzuyu fighting!

Short, sweet. She smiles the tiniest bit at his messages of support. In truth, it’s the first Chinese person she has seen that doesn’t want her head on a stake, or at least some form of reprimand.

Weibo

Jun, 2 days ago, 5:16pm: I have seen some of the things people are saying and please know that I support you and don’t think you did anything wrong.

Jun, 1 day ago, 9:47am: I hope that you are staying safe. Tzuyu fighting!

Jun, 1 day ago: 2:28pm: No need to carry the weight of the world on your shoulders alone, Tzuyu. I’m here~

Jun, today, 4:35pm: //cute cat gifs//

Jun, today 4:36pm: cheer up, little Zhou

Tzuyu laughs at his last messages, messily wiping old tears off of her face with the back of her hand. It’s the first time she’s laughed in the last few days, definitely. She feels bolstered by their support but doesn’t have the mental energy to craft a response to them right now, so she snaps her computer shut and tries to get some sleep.

Her mom arrives in the hours following. Tzuyu hasn’t cried in front of anyone yet, but comes undone at the sight of her mom, who rushes to Tzuyu and just holds her. Tzuyu feels like a child again. Some might say she still is one.

They meet with the board of directors at JYPE, where they lay everything out: how this all started, and current public sentiment both domestically and abroad. They don’t blame her for anything, which is a relief, truly. They strongly lament the Taiwanese Independence Movement’s adoption of Tzuyu as a figurehead in the early days of this ordeal and suggest that this may not have blown up so strongly in the beginning if it were not for that. She’s being used to fight an ‘ideological proxy war’ so they say. Tzuyu struggles to fully grasp it all.

But then they lay out the facts: the blacklistings, censoring, threats to her sunbaes, the catastrophic effect on JYPs stocks, and the ramifications of a prominent South Korean entertainment company being embroiled in a political controversy. She knows they’re not blaming her, but can’t help wonder if they just buttered her up first, only to lay this out and then ask for something of her in return. She knows it’s coming.

Their proposed solution: she apologizes to the Chinese public. Her first response is indignation. What does she have to apologize for? She’s merely being used as a pawn between countries that are unable to sort their own out, and she finds it all disgusting and pathetic. But, she is rational and wants to have all of the facts before she decides, and so she listens. She grips her mom’s hand tighter all the same.

Park Jinyoung—JYP himself—gently reminds her that he has done everything in his power to personally try to defend her, both to the company that censored her and to the Chinese public, and that it has only made the situation worse. This is the most viable solution to get everything to simmer down. It’s the only thing the Chinese government will accept at this point, because of how far everything has gone. That has been made clear to him on no uncertain terms.

“What’s the catch?” Tzuyu asks after their lengthy address. JYP looks surprised, and the board of directors murmurs at her prickly response, unaccustomed to receiving cheek from lowly artists. But it’s not like she has much to lose right now, anyway.

“Ah, I should’ve known you’d see that. You were always acute, Tzuyu,” Park Jinyoung muses to himself. “The stipulation is that you’d have to specify that you support the One China Principle. You would have to make explicitly clear that you believe Taiwan and China to be one.”

Tzuyu isn’t sure what she thinks. The meeting ended with JYP instructing her to contemplate it and discuss it with her mom, and give them her final answer tomorrow with her mother’s consent.

Her mom encourages her to make the apology, if only to stay safe. Tzuyu never knew her mom to kowtow to the demands of others so readily. After a lengthy discussion, Tzuyu asks to go home with her group members for the night. There’s a weighty significance to that because it’s the people whose lives she’s affecting. She wants to remember what it was like to be with them before she potentially destroys it all.

Her members greet her with kindness and concern, asking about what happened but backing off the subject when Tzuyu deflects it, making jokes and suggesting they have a dance party instead. She’s overwhelmed being with them, for the support and love she’s feels from them now and has for the past few months, and even the years before that beyond that. The emotions of gratitude and remorse well up unstoppably inside her, in the midst of their silly dancing to ‘Bang Bang Bang’.

After days of hiding her tears, she can’t anymore. She sits on the living room couch, Jihyo unnie cradling her and Jungyeon unnie her hair. This is the first time in all of these years of knowing her that they’ve ever seen her cry. She’s not a violent or dramatic crier, she just stoically lets the tears slip out, punctuated by loud sniffs. Everyone is concerned all the same—more so, in fact.

“If we can do anything for you, let us know,” Jihyo murmurs, her arms wrapped around Tzuyu’s shoulders, holding her close. Tzuyu just keeps crying, until she is brave enough to voice something she had been thinking about for the last few days.

“Can we ask manager-nim if my friend can come over?” Tzuyu says, burying her head into Jihyo’s shoulder.

“I’ll ask,” Nayeon stands up, and pads over to knock on their managers door.

This is how Jun ends up on Tzuyu’s doorstep at 2am, having come into the building through the back entrance. How he managed to get permission from his company or from Seungcheol, Tzuyu will never know. Scratch that, he probably didn’t.

She would normally care about her group members’ astonishment that a boy has arrived at their dorm, but instead she just pulls him by the arm across the living room, into her bedroom. She shuts the door behind them, despite what they may think. They’ve all met Jun before, so she knows it will blow over. Normally she respects Korean customs more but she is just tired of the excessive level of propriety already. She can have a male friend in her bedroom and not mean anything by it, damn it.

She locks the door and presses her back against it, looking up to see Junhui’s mouth agape in shock at her actions.

“What?” she says, sounding more demanding than she had intended to.

“Uh, hi?” he replies softly.

Tzuyu dissolves into tears again, in spite of herself.

“Come here,” he says, pulling her in and enveloping her in a hug. Tzuyu lets herself cry until it feels like there are no tears left to come out. Jun guides her over to her bed to sit, and she buries her face into his shoulder, where tears have soaked his coat that he hasn’t even had the chance to take off yet.

“Sorry,” she says miserably into his chest, her words muffled. He laughs. Laughs! She could hit him right now for that.

“Any time,” Jun says, giving her a squeeze before letting her go. She must look like an absolute wreck, all red and puffy in the face. She hates crying in front of others more than anything, not just for how she looks physically but for the weakness it displays. It feels like giving a piece of herself away every time.

“Do you want to talk about it?” he asks, an arm still draped around her.

“Not really,” she replies in a flat voice. She’s still clinging to him, but adjusts herself so that she’s laying in his lap, not able to face him. “Tell me what’s going on with you. I need a distraction.”

“Well,” Jun begins, and she feels rather than sees him hesitate about where to place his arm, eventually deciding to put his hand on her shoulder. “We just won an award today, at the Seoul Music Awards. Our first award.” He says it in a dreamy voice. “It feels like everything is finally paying off. And we went to dinner after. Seungkwan and Hoshi cried a few times, which is always funny, Hoshi because his eyes disappear into his face. He always says that he’s doing stuff like that for the cameras but in reality he’s just a big baby.”

Tzuyu drums her fingers against Jun’s thigh, smiling softly at his good news. Before she can begin to dwell on her own group’s future he continues.

“The reason I never messaged you back is because we got tricked for One Fine Day. They took away our phones and made us castaways.”

He recounts the story of their being duped by the staff many times over, and Tzuyu laughs mercilessly at their misfortune. She knows Jun wouldn’t be telling this to her now if it were not for a reprieve.

“On one of the last days when Minghao went to the big island, the other guys he was with convinced him that he could pay with abalones. They even got a shop owner in on it so he’d see them do it and believe them. He was so embarrassed after he tried to pay with them at the next shop and everyone left him behind.”

There is a lull in his speech, and Tzuyu figures it’s as good of a time to start as any.

“So I’m sure you know why you’re here,” she says.

“Partially, yeah. I’ve seen the news but you’ve been radio silent until now. What’s up?” He rubs her shoulder encouragingly.

“Well, I have 2 options. I can take a stand and leave the group, or I can apologize and betray my people but do it for my groups future,” she says matter-of-factly. Jun grips her shoulder at that.

“They’re forcing you to apologize?” Jun says in shock and incredulity. There’s a tinge of disgust in there, too.

“No, but I know I would ruin things for everyone in my company if I stayed and stayed silent. It would be tantamount to JYP giving China the middle finger. Well, more than it has already.” She sighs. “They laid it all out for me, what's happening with my sunbaes being threatened, all of the CFs that have been cancelled, how I'm being censored on TV, and all of the different countries’ governments that are commenting on it. We all kept thinking that it would blow over but it's spiraling out of control. The way I see it there's only 2 options.”

“Are you asking me for advice?” Jun asks.

“I… I guess so,” she wavers. His adrenaline spikes, setting him on edge at the prospect that she’s consulting him to influence such a weighty decision. There’s so much at stake here, and the fact that she trusts him to give her advice makes him feel a complicated mix of happiness and uncertainty.

“Well, I think the ultimate question is what you want for after,” Jun finally settles on.

“I don't think I could go home. I sacrificed so much to come here: my education, living with my family and friends, a normal childhood. What could I be if not this?” She picks at a loose thread on the seam of his pants. If it were anyone else, anywhere else, he’d give her grief about it, but he lets her have this tiny comfort.

“Well you could still do something else,” Jun says optimistically, ruffling her hair. “You still have time.”

Tzuyu sighs heavily. Sighing and crying seem to be her begrudging M.O. these days.

“This is my dream. Not just mine, but my unnies too. It wasn't necessarily before, but being onstage is like nothing else. It's worth all of the late nights and rehearsals, and not eating and exercising to no end. The not being understood and being away from my family.”

It pains him to say it, but for the sake of her best interests and being a fair sounding board, he does.

“You could in Taiwan?”

“And throw the last 3 years of work away? I can't let them take that from me,” Tzuyu says with a quiet determination, voicing a conviction she didn’t even know she had up until this moment. While she’d initially wanted to resist her mom’s advice, the more she spoke to Jun the more she seemed to be convincing herself otherwise. “And my group mates, throwing all of their work away…” she adds on softly, trailing off.

“Could you apologize, sincerely?” He finally asks, having exhausted all of the alternatives he could think of.

“Does it matter?” Tzuyu asks.

“It should...” Jun says quietly, stiffening, and his hand that had been rubbing her arm stills. Tzuyu must notice his shift in demeanor, since she sits up and looks him in the eye.

The conflict she sees there makes her realize, in full, just how awkward of a position she’s putting him in. He’s Chinese, born and raised, and here she is being disparaging of his people and flippant towards the integrity of their principles, something that undoubtedly still holds high value to him.

“I'm sorry, here I am venting and being totally insensitive that it's about the place you come from,” she apologizes, casting her eyes downward in embarrassment for her lack of consideration.

Jun snorts at this.

“As if I'm in any position to get offended by what you're saying right now. I'm loyal to China and I love my home but Tzuyu, compare our plights. Offend away; I can take it. What are friends for if not to share your burdens?”

She knows that national pride is massive; something instilled in Chinese citizens from birth and reinforced everywhere: in school and at home, as well as in public arenas. She realizes how much of a big sacrifice it is and how much Jun must care about her to put those feelings aside and listen to her like this.

“But also Tzuyu, if you're going to take a political stance, you should believe it,” he tacks on gently.

She huffs and runs her fingers through her hair anxiously.

“That’s the problem. I don't have a political stance. I left Taiwan when I was 13 and I didn't have a stance then. It's not like I know anything more now that I've been gone.” She squishes her own cheeks together in annoyance, then drops her hands in her lap in defeat. “I've spent the last 3 years overcoming obstacle after obstacle and just trying to survive. It would just be spouting off others opinions at this point. Although I'll tell you, the Chinese aren't doing much to win favors in my eyes at the moment.”

“I dunno Tzuyu, I think you’ve got a fine Chinese specimen sitting right in front of you,” Jun deadpans. Tzuyu cracks up with a full, voluminous laugh in her surprise, falling backwards on the bed in her mirth. After a few moments Jun pulls her back up by the hand and lingers half a second before dropping it, but she doesn’t seem to notice. Only when she settles down does she speak.

“Gosh, I haven’t laughed like that in… too long.”

“Glad to be of service,” he smiles softly. She purses her lips in amusement and looks up at him shyly.

“I know it matters.” Tzuyu says, returning to the topic at hand. “I know. And I know how much rests on this. I just wish people would stop saying some of the things that they do and assuming they know my intentions…”

“I’m sure it’s frustrating,” he says, leveling with her. “People are angry at you, for what? Holding a flag? Saying that you’re Taiwanese, like it’s some crime?”

She sighs. She makes a mental note to stop sighing after today.

“It’s more than that, though. This is about so much more than me.” She plops her chin into her palm, slumping over with her elbow propped up on her knee. “It makes me wonder though… Am I a bad person? Not just for this whole controversy and what people are saying; I don't want to internalize that. But at the same time I feel like I'm being selfish. Ultimately I’m considering what I want out of this situation instead of everyone else I’m affecting.”

Jun gives her a critical look.

“First off, something isn’t true by virtue of the fact that a lot of people believe it, Tzuyu. You know that. Second off, think of all you just said. How much you just talked about the way you're affecting others. That is the very definition of selfless.”

Jun can practically see the thoughts and emotions pass across her face: sadness, acceptance, contemplation, and then steeling her resolve.

“I think I know what I need to do,” She declares with a sharp nod, her words weighty with finality. Her eyes are fixed across the room but he knows she’s looking past the physical object, lost in that head of hers, as she is wont to do. The last few years must’ve done a number on her level of introspection for how pensive she can get.

“Good. You know what’s best for you. I don’t doubt that you knew it all along,” he encourages her with a pat to the shoulder. She turns to him with an earnest look; there’s a nervous pang in his stomach when she fixes him with that vulnerable gaze.

“Thank you, Jun. Seriously. It feels like you’re the only person I can talk to who doesn’t want something from me right now,” she says intently. She squeezes his hand and smiles softly.

His heart flutters at this, and he thinks that what she just said may not be entirely true.

Author's note: This chapter involved hella research PLEASE LOVE IT OK. A lot of thought went into the timeline and about 90% of this is true to the actual events and it only varies on the parts that I couldn’t pin down. The JYP statement that I quoted is a real translation of their actual statement. Most of the C-netz “comments” are real as well.