Comeback day. Energy in the van is on high, burning bright as the boys make their way to their first music show. As their second comeback they're beyond the level of being nervous but there's an element of thrilling anticipation to their first few performances, always.
The day starts before the sun rises and is full of reminders from their leaders, brusque and hurried instructions from music show staff, and a permanent tornado of stylists around them. Jun finds himself practicing the choreography and his part time and time again. As much as it might seem like so little time for him to be in the center, he’ll make it count.

"Look, it's Tzuyu," Minghao nudges Jun and gestures up ahead. They’re in a hallway in the guts of the backstage area, and she's trailing along with her group with her eyes glued to her phone as her fingers flit across the keyboard.

"Oh, yeah. Yeah." Jun responds. Eloquent, Jun, he thinks.

"Sooo we should say hi...?" Minghao draws his words out, curving them into a question as he surveys Jun curiously.

"Yeah, you’re right," Jun replies with a brisk nod.

Minghao gives Jun a skeptical look and then weaves through the crowd, an unspoken command for Jun to follow.

She smiles wide at their greeting, but Jun doesn't miss the momentary flash of something inscrutable when they first catch her attention.

“Hey, how are you guys?” Tzuyu asks.

“Good. We just filmed our rehearsal a few minutes ago, actually,” Minghao replies.

“We’re going soon. Just headed to get our mics on now,” Tzuyu says, tugging on her silver hoop earring.

“Your first comeback must be exciting?” Minghao asks, and Tzuyu nods with a hesitant smile.

“It is. Especially since… well, you know,” she says evasively. They do all know; it’s her groups first music show broadcasts since her scandal back in January. The echoes of it must still ring through her mind too often for comfort. She rubs her arm, a nervousness ading her usually cool and unflappable demeanor.

“Tzuyu!” Jihyo calls out, trailing behind their group which is far down the hall. “Hi guys!” Jihyo says with a wave to Jun and Minghao when she catches all of their attention, then redirects her focus. “Tzuyu we gotta go!”

“See ya later, Tzuyu,” Minghao and Jun say.

“Bye guys,” Tzuyu replies, giving them a hesitant smile and jogging down the hall to reunite with her group.

When she turns the corner Minghao fixes his attention on Jun.

“Okay, what’s up with you two?” Minghao asks critically, unwavering in his directness.

“What? Who?” Jun asks innocently, as though he couldn’t possibly know what Minghao means.

Minghao just gives Jun a look like his brain must’ve fallen out.

“You and Tzuyu.”

“Nothing’s up with us,” Jun replies with the best look of confusion that he can manage.

Minghao puffs air out of one side of his lips in resigned consternation and rolls his eyes up to the ceiling.

"You're a bad liar. Did something happen between you two?"

“No.”

It’s only half a lie.

1 week ago—

"That's JYP PD-nim", she says, low and stricken, and she pulls open a door and pushes Jun inside of it; he feels his back press up against a thick throng of fabrics; it’s a clothing closet, apparently. She holds a finger to Jun's lips and looks at him frantically as the voices grow louder, and only relaxes when they fade down the hallway.

It’s then that she becomes acutely aware of the way she's thrown her body fully into Jun's in her hurry, and the way Jun is holding her steady, his hand against him by the small of her back. A few of his fingers have managed to slip beneath the fabric of her shirt, rumpling up the cotton and dimpling into the skin there, both to hold her and in the tension of their predicament moments ago.

She gapes up at him, their faces mere inches apart. Her finger slides down and away from shushing him, and the way she’s looking at his lips is like torture. This moment feels so precarious, like his ability to control himself is just about out the window.

She buries her forehead into the crook of his neck to avoid it and he presses his eyes shut, letting out a heavy breath and relaxing his arms that are around Tzuyu. They linger, her face pressed against the column of his neck, exhales warm against his skin.

This is how they stay for one, two, three heartbeats, and then Tzuyu unwinds herself, pulling away with a step back. Jun catches her hand on its descent; her eyes flit down to it and then back up to his. His stare is sharp and dangerous.

He steps forward.

Her heart is thrumming, sound fading out as blood roars in her ears. He places a hand beneath her chin, running the pad of his thumb over her cheek. Her eyes, so close and fixed to his, are dark with something rapturous and evocative. It makes his insides molten and unfurl an all-consuming, want—need—for more, more, more.

Instead, she sinks back against the door, cowering.

“You should go,” her voice cuts under a whisper, attaches weights to his heart and drowns it.

“If that’s what you want,” he replies after a silence that is long, too long. She drops her hand from his and it clambers behind her, graceless, for the handle. Her eyes look anywhere but his. Because what else can she do?

What had she meant? Whenever Jun isn’t practicing or working on something or spending time with the guys, the words creep back in his mind which replays them cruelly without relent, carving away at his own heart with each time.

“You should go.”

Was he wrong about her? It felt as though they'd been building a slow, halting but progressive momentum. Jun’s confidence shrivels at the thought that he’d been presumptuous, had seen what he wanted to beyond the reality of it. Had he read too far into Tzuyu’s thoughtfulness, and the way that she looks at him, full of endearment and rapt attention; the way that she touches him: so readily, so effortlessly?

But then, desiring and deserving are separated by a vast ocean of obligation, Jun full well knows. He knows that what he wants is not permissible, at least not for her. Dear god, he knows.

He’d thrown himself into his work in the days following instead; still is. Seventeen is set for another comeback close after their current one—so close that they’re preparing for it in the midst of their music show schedules—followed immediately by their Asia tour. There’s always more work to be done than there seem to be hours in the day, and for once he’s glad for it.

All three leaders observe him with a reserved, watchful curiosity, as Jun becomes hyper-focused on his work. There’s a day that he enters the studio late to find Seungcheol, Woozi and Hoshi in there talking hurriedly, maybe even arguing from the sound of it, but they cut off abruptly when he enters. They watch him carefully without comment but Jun doesn’t care. They can speculate all they want.

Ryeowook’s words run through his mind, too though.

"Everybody does it."

Well, maybe not everybody.

It’s their first week of comebacks still when Tzuyu spies Jun backstage down the hall. She makes to surreptitiously back away and is about to turn around a corner when she hears him call her name.

Christ. Maybe if she just keeps walking and acts like she didn’t hear him…?

She hears the swish of his clothes and puff of his breath as he catches up to her, turning her by the upper arm.

“Hey, I called for you,” Jun says, a hurt edge to his voice.

“Sorry, I didn’t hear you,” Tzuyu says, trying to push a bouncy cheerfulness into hers.

She knows he doesn’t believe her. She knows. But she can’t face him right now. She’s a painful mix of embarrassed and intimidated and scared, and confronting it seems like the most daunting thing she can imagine, more so by far than going onstage to perform for a deafening a crowd that’s blurred into a churning blackness by the blinding stage lights.

“Tzuyu, let’s not be like this,” Jun says, cutting through the pleasantries and straight to the crux of their awkwardness. “What happened, happened. It’s all just a misunderstanding. But we’re still friends, aren’t we?”

They are. Well, they can be.

“Yeah,” Tzuyu replies. “Yeah, you’re right,” she repeats with more conviction. If he can put it all aside for the sake of their friendship, then so can she. “Of course we are.”

Jun smiles now in reassurance, both in himself and to her.

“Don’t be a stranger, okay?”

“You can count on it. Especially if you lose our bet,”

Jun raises his eyebrows and looks away with a scoff, playful.

“In your dreams, Zhou.”

“Yeah, yeah,” she waves his criticisms off.

They slip back into their easy cadence, like this. There’s a new touch of careful reserve that colors their actions from time to time, but otherwise balance is restored.

Jun can barely wrap his mind around it; it's like he's watching from far away as many of the Seventeen members break into tears, the other half of the group overjoyed (if a little stunned) as confetti rains down around them. It's a wild blur until he's handed a mic to give his acceptance speech in Mandarin, and he tries to remember who all to thank and how to thank them as his brain slows its ability for rational thought in his shock.

Did they really win?... They won! They won a music show.

Woozi for one takes to sobbing quietly on Jun's shoulder. Woozi's usually curt and distant even though they're same-age friends, but in his vulnerable inability to hold back his relief and joy, Jun just hugs him, and from time to time endeavors to wipe away his tears. He along with Hoshi bear an enormous burden in the team. After so many years in training, after countless nights spent composing or choreographing allowing for only 2 or 3 hours of sleep (if that), for them to achieve their first win must feel like an endless, hard-fought battle finally won.

From there it’s a blurry encore and rush of bodies as the other idol groups leave the stage. Jun wants so badly to remember this moment but it’s all headrush, full with congratulations, cheers and tears, along with a chaotic and unsuccessful attempt to build a human tower. It doesn’t feel real yet.

They won. They won. Their first music show win.

Backstage the guys disperse, the staff helping them collect their things and to pack up the room. Reality still hasn’t set in yet. The coordis help them change and their leaders’ tears have dried—until wait, they’re crying again—and they’re all being ushered out of the Show Champion building to leave for the day.

Winning feels like the most incredible thing. They’ve won awards before but nothing feels like they’ve made it more than this. Up until now it’s all been prefaced with rookie awards but this is their first big, real one, with no training wheels. The significance is near-suffocating in its enormity.

Later that night, when it’s all dark and dead and quiet at the dorm, Minghao crawls into Jun’s bed. Normally Jun would about it but he stays mum for now. He and Minghao have both made sacrifice upon sacrifice, even quitting high school and leaving their families to come to Korea for all of this. In the uncertainty of the industry it had been an enormous risk, which after long years of training had ultimately, mercifully paid off. Neither of them cried at their award stage, but after a while Minghao has a few tears sliding down his face, illuminated only by the moonlight peeking in through the window. Jun wipes them away, knowing that he may succumb to the same fate if Minghao cries long enough.

“We did it,” Jun whispers in Mandarin as he grabs Minghao’s hand, still in awe. The significance of the language shared only by them is heavy, an emblem of their sacrifices. Minghao presses his eyes shut and more tears escape; he’s not one for crying if he can help it.

“Hey Minghao, if you keep crying you’re going to look like crap tomorrow on broadcast,” Jun murmurs playfully, his voice wavering only a tiny bit in the emotion that’s closing his throat. It all just feels like so… so much, still. He wipes his thumb at his own eyeline to wick away the moisture there.

Minghao scoffs; the noise is heavier than usual.

Tomorrow is another day to come, with more to prove and more wins to achieve. In a few hours the slate will be wiped new, but for now, for this suspended moment in time they hold this beautiful, irrevocable, golden thing in their hearts. They won.

Weibo—group message

Tzuyu: congratulations guys! (✿◠‿◠)

Minghao: thanks yo

Jun: get your selection of embarrassing pictures ready

Tzuyu: noooooo

Minghao: ㅋㅋㅋㅋㅋㅋㅋ

Jun: ㅋㅋㅋㅋ

"Guess who?" A familiar chestnut-haired, bright-eyed girl pokes her head into Twice's waiting room; for the moment the girls are all scattered about, half relaxing and half having their hair or makeup touched up.

"Somi-yah!!!" Sana and Momo squeal, stumbling to run to her. All of the girls crowd her.

"Your costume is so pretty!"

Somi spins and curtsies, showing off her candy pink pleated skirt and sporty blue crop top.

"Congratulations on your debut!"

"Thanks," Somi says, flipping her hair over her shoulder and feigning airy nonchalance before breaking into laughter, and the other girls follow. There is a lightness and happiness to Somi that is nothing short of infectious.

"I can't stay long but I wanted to say hi. Congratulations on your comeback! Twice fighting!" Somi does the fighting gesture and makes an exaggeratedly excited face.

"Somi fighting! IOI Fighting!" the girls chorus as Somi departs, wiggling her fingers in a wave and blowing kisses as she exits.

Seeing Somi debut is a joyous day. Her talents and charms made it seem as if she were born to be an idol. She’s young and has endured great trials but remains optimistic and hardworking through it all. If she can’t be a part of Twice, at least she can be given new life onstage through this project group, as the center no less. There should only be great things in store for a girl like her.

Tzuyu's trailing behind her group after their recording, earpieces flung carelessly over her décolleté and patting a towel to her temples to slick away sweat when she spots a familiar profile. He's facing away but Tzuyu recognizes Jun from the stature and easy manner in which he holds himself, but her chest tightens threateningly at his conversation partner.

A girl whose beauty and effervescence seems to ooze from her, her brilliant onyx hair pooling at her chest and kindness in her eyes. She recognizes the outfit as the same as Somi's earlier: IOI. She's laughing along to something Jun says and reaches up to brush his hair from his eyes. Venom surges in Tzuyu's veins; something white, hot and glowing much like anger ablaze within her.

The girl—Pinky? Maybe? She recognizes her from Produce 101 but can’t quite recall her name—catches Tzuyu’s eyes and seems to stutter near-imperceptibly before the corners of her lips pull back to reveal a magnificent white grin.

"Anneyonghaseyo, I'm Jieqiong of IOI," she says melodically. Her name reveals her ethnicity but with no accent to match. Self-consciousness blooms in Tzuyu; her own Korean is far removed from perfect.

Jun turns to Tzuyu, his eyes alight with his perpetual, asive joy.

Tzuyu tries to calm the tempest of emotions brewing within her; she is no stranger to such things. During TV shows and interviews, she must tightly regulate both what she says and what she displays on her face. Careful is not enough for an idol these days.

“Tzuyu, this is my label-mate, Jieqiong,” Jun introduces her.

“I’m Tzuyu of Twice,” she bows.

“You must know Somi then,” Jieqiong remarks, smile still stretched wide across her face.

“I must,” Tzuyu replies, prickly. A look of dismay passes over Jieqiong’s features.

“Don’t let Tzuyu scare you, she’s fluffier once you get to know her,” Jun says reassuringly, closing his hand around Jieqiong’s forearm.

“Oh you know me, Jun. Nothing scares me,” Jieqiong says; her words are light and playful but in Tzuyu’s mind they hold a warning.

“Well, that’s good. Oh, that reminds me, now that you’ve debuted we can finally add you to the China-line group chat!”

Oh.

Oh.

The soft tinkling of Jieqiong’s laugh, the way her eyes fixed raptly to Jun when he speaks, the effortless way she touches him by the arm, jokes with him. Something Tzuyu had thought was hers and Jun’s alone, a special and sacrosanct emblem of an unspoken thing between them, was it all in her head?

Everything that had seemed so certain yet forbidden is now crumbling beneath Tzuyu. But she can’t have it, so what does it matter?

Still, she absolutely hates how touchy Jieqiong is with Jun. But he's not hers. She doesn't see him like that, she can't, she’s told herself over and over, and had finally started to crystallize and codify it until it all falls apart at the sight of them.

Tzuyu knows that if she were to have done what she wanted to in that closet a week ago then the floodgates would be thrown open, lock broken. She has to deny, deny, deny because like Eve in the garden there's no undoing that sin.

And so she works, she plays, and distracts herself, because when she's not thinking about it she can pretend it's not real.

Tzuyu is at a loss for words when Twice has their first win, which is later that day, the very next day after Seventeen’s first win. Twice debuted 6 months ago: can it really be them? The achievement feels unreal, like she’s floating on a cloud, through a dream. She doesn’t cry during their speeches or during the encore performance; she abhors crying in public, always has, and broadcast is no different.

Backstage Tzuyu calls her mom, and she does cry then. Something about her mom will forever be her undoing.

“I’m so proud of you, my little Tzuyu. It was all worth it. You are the best daughter I could’ve wished for. You always will be, no matter what you do. I will always watch over and root for you. I love you.”

Now, she cries. Tzuyu’s in the hallway but in her mind she’s in a floaty headspace because reality doesn’t matter; all that matters is her mom’s words for her, echoing endlessly in her mind.

I’m so proud of you.

You are the best daughter I could’ve ever wished for.

I love you.

Tzuyu presses end on the phone call and slumps against the wall, hiding her face behind a curtain of hair to obscure the signs of her emotions as onlookers pass.

There’s a body before her before she knows it, a familiar one at that.

“Tzuyu-yah.”

It’s familiar voice.

She’s pulled into a hug, familiar arms around her.

Jun’s thin cotton shirt is no match for her tears. She hugs him tight without thought for anything but the fact that she needs this right now. She needs the warmth and the care and something to hide behind. She needs to quiet her nervous brain that has been shunting her feelings, and her logical mind that hates tears, hates being seen as anything other that unflappable.

“I’m… s—sorry,” she says haltingly into his chest. He tilts his face into the top of her head, nose pressed into her hair.

“Don’t be,” he says, tightening his grip around her. She tilts her forehead against his shoulder, gasping for air.

On one hand they’re in the hallway, and one shouldn’t believe that the backstage areas of music shows are private. But on the other hand, there are lots of open secrets among celebrities, even just of friendships that would muddy their reputations. They all have this commonality. Now that everything’s packed up and the cameras have all turned off for the day, there’s no worrying about being caught in a backstage video, either.

The shaking in her chest subsides and Jun feels her take a low, deep breath, steeling herself and tamping down the swell of emotions in her. She pulls back, her expression wavering somewhere between stable and ready to break into tears again.

“Hey. Congratulations,” Jun smiles while pushing tears from her cheeks, and she smiles halfheartedly in return. “But you still have to put that ugly picture up,” he adds. Even though Twice’s win cuts close behind Seventeen’s, she still lost the bet. How fitting that it would end in a photo finish.

Tzuyu laughs and hits him lightly on the chest.

“Hey,” she says warningly, secretly pleased for the lighthearted topic.

“Sorry, not ugly. Embarrassing.”

He’ll be the death of her one of these days.

Weibo—group chat

Minghao: CONGRATULATIONS, TZUYU

Tzuyu: thank youuuu ^^

Jieqiong: congrats! Twice fighting

Early in May before the dust of their wins has time to settle, Tzuyu and Chaeyoung head to Seventeen’s dorm. The reason is somber; Wonwoo’s in the midst of a scandal and he didn’t ask—Wonwoo’s not one to do so directly—but Chaeyoung knows he wants her there. It’s a Sunday and they all have a merciful window of a few hours in which their free time overlaps.

“Where is he?” Chae asks upon entering the dorm, and is directed to Wonwoo’s hidey-hole. Wonwoo isn’t much one for words but his quietude since the scandal broke has been disconcerting for everyone.

It would seem few armchair internet detectives had taken the time to unearth some of the less-than-scrupulous actions of Wonwoo’s past: his brief stint during elementary school as an SNSD anti-fan was winning him no favors now that he himself is an idol.

Tzuyu wavers by the front door, as she’d mostly been a chaperone for Chaeyoung to come here: enough company not to cause suspicion for onlookers as to why they’d be entering a boy groups apartment building, and to allay any possible scrutiny that could eventuate from it. The current climate of both of their groups public notoriety made it so that it was ill-advised for their groups to be seen interacting alone, and to diffuse potential suspicion they’d agreed it was best to meet in groups.

“Have you been eating?” Seungcheol asks Tzuyu once she’s settled on the couch beside him, his words a cliché expression of care but she shakes her head no to little surprise. Tzuyu had been pleased to find that the rest of the hiphop team was home; she’d expected to have to twiddle her thumbs on the couch for the better part of her time at their dorm.

A bedroom door flies open and Vernon walks out, yawning and rubbing his stomach sans shirt until he spies Tzuyu.

“Ack!” He shouts, hugging his arms around himself and scurrying back into his room. “You didn’t tell me girls were coming!” he calls to Seungcheol from his hidden vantage point beyond the threshold. Tzuyu’s flushed with embarrassment, not for seeing a guy without a shirt but for putting him in an awkward predicament.

“We didn’t know,” Seungcheol calls back through his laughter.

Seungcheol then fetches them something to drink from the kitchen. After he pads his way back over to Tzuyu he hands her a glass and slumps back onto the couch, letting out a heavy exhale. Seungcheol looks weary, like a deflated version of himself these days. It must be a disappointing blow to have finally reached the apex of all they’d hoped to achieve only to be struck down with a scandal like this. The guilt Tzuyu’d felt about what her scandal had put Jihyo, Nayeon and Jungyeon through is fully actualized before her in this moment. But Seungcheol doesn’t realize how directly he reflects that, how could he possibly?

He has so much responsibility to shoulder and he's only a few years older than her. Back home where the lines of age distinctions are blurred, their gap would be almost negligible, but in Korea his burdens are heavier and he must feel like some of this or any situation is his fault, against all logic.

“C’mere,” Tzuyu sets her water down and waves Seungcheol closer to her. Lack of understanding colors his expression. “Turn around, and scoot closer to me.”

Seungcheol moves like his actions are set to half pace, cautious but compliant.

Tzuyu runs her hands over his back and finds a minefield of knots. It’s sad rather than shocking. Stress manifests itself in a very real way, and Seungcheol must have much more than he shows. As a leader, any problems that the company has with his group and vice versa are relayed directly through him. It must feel like he’s being given grief on all sides, to say nothing of his duties as a mediator for conflicts within the group itself, and such a big one at that.

“What are you doing?” Seungcheol asks curiously.

“Giving you a massage,” Tzuyu replies curtly, and Seungcheol hisses as she presses her fingers deep within a knot on his upper back, slowly working in circles.

“Is this… appropriate?” Seungcheol asks, his voice weak and wavering in the unique pain and relief that only extracting tension from tired muscles can bring.

“I do this for my friends all of the time. You’re my friend, right?” She replies. Because it’s hard for her to communicate on emotional topics involving complex ideas in Korean, she finds herself performing acts of service more. It’s hard to fully grasp and discuss problems her friends may be having but she can relieve their worries in this way, without speaking.

“Right,” Seungcheol replies, compliant.

“You don’t ask for it, but you deserve something like this,” she says under her breath, bracing his shoulder with one hand and pressing the heel of her other one into the spot over his shoulder blade, concentrated. “It’s okay. Relax, Seungcheol. It’ll all be okay,” Tzuyu commands gently.

She normally wouldn’t be so assertive but he’s like putty in her hands, literally. How odd it is that their roles are reversed. Normally he's a rock for her to rely on—they’re the closest, outside of her relationships with the Chinese members—but the youngest is taking care of the eldest now.

“I’m worried about everyone. Especially Wonwoo,” Seungcheol says to punctuate the long silence. He’s not much one for expressing his concerns to others, but the pain and the truth seem to want to escape his body in tandem.

“It’ll be okay. So long as he makes a proper apology, it’ll all be okay,” Tzuyu reassures him.

“How do you know?” Seungcheol asks, voice stale and flat, devoid of passion or doubt or… anything really.

“I’m intimately acquainted with the art of a proper apology,” Tzuyu explains, succinct and heavy with implication.

“Oh. You’re right,” Seungcheol replies, seeming to understand without further elaboration.

The lock clicks and the front door swings wide before either of them have much chance to react. The performance team accompanied by two girls is just outside, home from practice, Jun with a touch of shock permeating his features at their configuration on the couch.

Seungcheol scoots away from Tzuyu as the group pours into the room.

“I didn’t know you were coming over…?” Jun trails off, addressing Tzuyu.

“You and everyone else,” Tzuyu snorts, thinking back to Vernon earlier.

Jieqiong takes a seat on the stool beside him, and Tzuyu feels paralyzed at the realization that that might be what Jun meant by it, that it meant I wouldn’t have brought her back here if I’d known you were coming over. Because what if he’s hiding that from Tzuyu? Not that he’d have to, but Jun’s considerate, and he must know, mustn’t he? Or maybe he didn’t want Jieqiong to have to be around her. Is she second banana now? Was she always?

And to Tzuyu, the realization cements the divide between them. Jun can go on and do whatever he wants. She has no say in it; she forfeited her right to have any sort of say in who he sees or who he’s interested in weeks ago.

Not that it matters. Not that any of it matters. It can’t, she has to remind herself over, and over again, because denying it is the only thing there is to do.

Later that night when a stillness takes hold of the dorm, Jun finds himself flipping over again and again, restless in his bed. There’s no practical reason why he can’t sleep. By all rights, the exhaustion should’ve set in by now like it has for the others, if their snores are any indication. He drifts in and out of consciousness, never fully able so sink down into the velvety blackness of sleep. He thinks of his mom. He thinks of his friends. He thinks of Wonwoo, and what he’s going through right now. He thinks of heavy things and stupid things and of things that don’t make sense as everything drifts together in his stubborn half-consciousness.

Eventually Jun grows tired of his inability to sleep and flings off his covers, crawling out of bed. He needs some fresh air.

He climbs the stairs to the roof and the cool air gently flutters his hair, the dregs of spring soon to be replaced by a rainy summer. In the dark he sees a familiar gaunt figure, dressed in all black with tendrils of white smoke rising above him.

“Hey,” Jun says, resting his arms on the concrete ledge that separates them from free-fall.

Wonwoo takes a drag of his cigarette, its orange embers angry and glowing in the muted dark of the city at night.

“Don’t tell Seungcheol I smoke,” Wonwoo says after a long exhale. Jun looks back at the ground and nudges the tiny mountain of butts that’s forming there.

“You think he doesn’t already know?” Jun retorts. Wonwoo gives him a look of consideration then shrugs in agreement.

“Sorry I ed everything up,” Wonwoo says to cut the silence.

“You don’t need to apologize to me,” Jun replies. “And you didn’t. everything up, that is.”

Wonwoo taps the ash and it rains down, scattering into the air and dissipating on its stories-long descent. Jun knows that he doesn’t go out of his way to smoke much but sometimes… sometimes it just feels like the right thing for it. It definitely must right now.

“I find it kinda ridiculous. Kids do stupid stuff on the internet,” Jun says to try and be supportive.

“I shouldn’t blame it on the fact that I was a kid,” Wonwoo replies, a complicated determination in his voice.

“Well then what are you gonna say?” Jun asks, straightening up and turning to rest back against the ledge, propping himself up by his elbows.

Wonwoo pulls out a sheet of printer paper, scrawled with black ink and littered with arrows, strikethroughs and messy edits. There are two different kinds of handwriting: one is round and clear while the other is crowded and slants down with the individual characters.

“Someone helped you write it?” Jun asks, holding it up to examine.

“Yeah, Chaeyoung. Kid’s pesky. She wouldn’t leave me alone until I let her help.”

Wonwoo’s affection for her is evident in the tiny smile pulling at the corners of his mouth, contrasting his critical words. He’s glad for the nagging.

“You and Chae?” Jun asks to lighten the mood.

“Nah,” Wonwoo says flippantly, stubbing out his cigarette and flicking the end into the pile at their feet. “She’s too young. I’m more interested in Sana.”

Wonwoo laughs in disbelief at his own admission, shaking his head at the topic in the context of their current predicament. He and Jun have always had this easy rapport of honesty.

“The more you know,” Jun remarks wryly, turning his attention to the paper.

Hello, this is Wonwoo.
First, I want to apologize for everyone who I have hurt by this situation. Instead of making excuses by saying they were foolish mistakes I made when I was young, or saying that I don't remember what I did, I believed that admitting my faults and apologizing was the right choice, which is why I'm writing this.
Even though I wrote it when I was young, it is definitely something I wrote, and I am sorry to the Girls' Generation sunbaenims, their fans, as well as Carats who were hurt by this. I am also sorry to the members, who worked hard together to become Seventeen together.
If I think about it now, I was so immature. I thought lightly about the stars on television, and I never thought about how the words I said would hurt other people.
During middle school, after I became a trainee to become Seventeen, I realized the weight that the people who stand on stage have to carry. I realized how many people work hard for one person to stand on stage. After I became Seventeen and stood on stage and learned what kind of feelings people have on stage, I realized the meaning of standing on stage. I sincerely felt how amazing it was for the Girls' Generation sunbaenims to stand on stage, and respected them. I also learned how responsible I have to be in this field with the fans' love. While getting attention from the public, I learned about the effects of a single post, and how the person reading it felt. Because of this, I am even more reflecting on my actions.
I don't dare ask for forgiveness. I only want to reflect endlessly about my actions and apologize to the Girls' Generation sunbaenims. Even when I look back on myself, the thoughtless posts were improper, and they were actions that could have hurt someone, so I can't even raise my head because I am so sorry.
I will work hard never to disappoint again. I will read all the criticism and advice on my immature actions and never forget them. Also, please continue to teach me. I apologize once again.
I am sorry.

“It’s good,” Jun says, handing it back. “You’re not making excuses for yourself. It’s a real man’s apology.”

“Namja,” Wonwoo echoes with a laugh, a complicated amusement. He drops his cigarette and crushes it beneath his shoe. It joins the graveyard of remnants that all of the guys pointedly ignore.

“You should get some sleep, Wonu. Morning comes early,” Jun says, patting Wonwoo’s back.

“Same to you,” Wonwoo replies, but lets Jun lead him back to the dorm all the same.

Weibo

Jun: sooo both of our birthdays are coming up next month

Tzuyu: I can’t believe they’re only a few days apart

Tzuyu: what are the chances?

Jun: right??

Jun: we should have a party together

Tzuyu: oooo good idea

Tzuyu: we definitely should

Jun: we just have to convince Seungcheol first

Author's note: this chapter was a bit experimental in terms of writing style. Let me know if it was more or less compelling than usual. Also, sorry for torturing all of my characters!

As always, the comments give me motivation to write, so any feedback (no matter how incoherent haha) is always appreciated, though I do like it when people say specifically what they liked.