Sana sighed as she Tzuyu’s hair comfortingly.

          They were on the couch, sitting very close to each other (Sana would never admit that they were cuddling mainly because it is a couple thing and her and Tzuyu are definitely not a couple). She had an arm around the sniffling girl, musing out how, ironically, she was currently in a situation she was determined to avoid.

          That is being close to Zhou Tzuyu.

          “U-unnie,” the maknae attempted to speak out, before hiccupping violently. She made a feeble attempt to apologize, before Sana’s heart nearly melted at the sight of her red, tear-stained face, inches away from hers.

          Sana shushed Tzuyu. She wondered if her heart could beat any faster when the girl hugged her closer, nuzzling her face against the juncture between Sana’s neck and shoulder.

          “It’s okay,” Sana consoled, silently wondering if even she, herself, would ever be. She could feel every flutter of Tzuyu’s lashes, the tears that spilled out, and even the shuddering breaths she would take.

          “It’s just,” Tzuyu began, before stopping to hiccup again. Sana patted her back soothingly. “I-I just miss everything about them. I miss my dog. I miss my family. I miss my old house.” With a mortified whisper, she added, “I want to go home.”

          Sana pulled back and saw a tear trace its way down Tzuyu’s cheek.

          Sana groaned inwardly at herself, knowing very well that she was behind this current predicament. She should have known better than to play that stupid movie about that dog dying in the end. Momo immediately left the room, saying that she saw it once already. Mina stayed and watched in mild interest, before drifting away halfway into the movie. She remembered Tzuyu walking in, some twenty minutes through the film, and staying till the end.

          “I shouldn’t have let you watch it.” Sana apologized to the girl. She wiped the tears on Tzuyu’s cheeks before gathering her up for another hug.

On another note, Sana was glad that the others were currently out of the dorm. Otherwise, she would never hear the end of it from the mother hens. They’d scold her good and well for making the youngest cry.

“It’s not your fault,” Tzuyu whispered after a while (coupled with another sniff). “It’s not your fault that I felt sad.” She rubbed her sleeve against her nose, and momentarily, Sana forgot why she was so determined to avoid Tzuyu.

Then her eyes drifted over to the Taiwanese’s red-rimmed eyes, and her soft, pouting lips. And Sana remembered.

She remembered the strange warmth she felt whenever Tzuyu was around. It used to be small and miniscule. Only felt whenever the other took her hand or hugged her, and Sana had convinced herself that it was friendship.

But Sana doubted more and more, wondering if friends should even notice things she had of Tzuyu. Like how the way she would scrunch up her nose when she laughs (Sana used to about it, saying that it made her eyes look even squintier), or the way she would subconsciously stick out her tongue in moments of wonder or absolute concentration.

“I didn’t want to make you cry.”

Tzuyu bit her lip, and Sana felt the now-familiar burst of heat well up within her. She eyed the crease on her forehead, and the way her lips were trembling slightly.

It was cute how she was trying so hard not to sob.

          Sana leaned forward to press a kiss on Tzuyu’s forehead, never realizing that this was what liking someone felt like.

          She realized she hated the way Tzuyu cried because of her.

--

As much as Sana planned to avoid Tzuyu, that was soon chucked aside as she discovered an odd fact about herself.

She did not like episodes of separation from Tzuyu.

Sana shifted in her bed, feeling uneasy and unable to sleep. The room was dark and quiet, Jihyo and Mina were already asleep. Nayeon was probably off watching television. Sana pressed a pillow to her face, and groaned. She used all the methods she knew of, stretching, drinking milk, even counting