A/N. Let me make some stuff clear first: Tzuyu and Sana are living in Japan here; they're also in the same age. I guess, that's all? Enjoy reading !

 

//

 

“Don’t run outside barefoot, your feet will just get dirty again.”

Tzuyu looked up at her mother. A slight concerned frown lined the woman’s face.

“Are you listening to me, Tzuyu?”

“Yeah, sure.” Tzuyu responded, lifting her foot to show her mother the blue flip-flop that covered it, “See? I have slippers on.” She stood up from where she was sitting in the foyer of her house and leaned down to grab the backpack that sat next to the neat line of shoes. “I’ll be back by lunchtime,” She said, and with that she was out the door.

As soon the front gate of her house was securely shut behind her, Tzuyu kicked her flip flops away, and her feet hit the asphalt barefoot. Shoes were a pain, especially in the summer mornings, when it was still cool enough under her toes to feel warm and not scorching hot.

And, of course, she didn’t really need shoes at the place she was going to anyways.

As usual, the beach was quiet. Tzuyu dug her feet into the sand, staring at the ocean that unfolded in front of her. It was probably her favorite thing in the world. The smell of sea salt, the feel of the breeze rustling through her hair and skin. There were few things Tzuyu loved more than the ocean. She closed her eyes, tilting her head back in an effort to enjoy the most of the morning breeze.

Tzuyu wondered what her father was doing right now.

She opened her eyes.

Summer vacation meant that her father would come home.

As a child, her father would allow Tzuyu onboard his ship. She had spent hours pretending she was a seafaring captain. Her father would lift her up in her arms, hold her above the helm of the ship so that she could fully see the blue seas that stretched out as far as she could see. He would twirl her around, allow her to shout a few of her captain’s orders, and then set her on deck where he would take off his captain’s hat and place it on Tzuyu’s head. It would, of course, fall immediately over her eyes, with only windswept hair and a bright, bright smile visible underneath the rim.

“Honey, you need to stop doing that,” Her mother would say only half-jokingly, “She’s going to end up just like you.”

“Well, what’s wrong with that? She can sail anywhere in the world. She can chase any dream.” He would lean down and adjust the hat on Tzuyu’s head, “She can conquer any sea if she wanted to.”

Her mother would then roll her eyes, “You’re a ferry captain, not a pirate.” And laughter would ensue.

It was the same routine, over and over again.

Time would pass, however, and Tzuyu would eventually start school, and her father would get busier. These days, her father was so busy that neither Tzuyu or her mother were able to see him for weeks, maybe months at a time. There were some stolen weekends, a few haphazard free days, but nothing would last too long before her father would return to sea.

Perhaps it was a Chou thing, to love the sea the most of all.

It was the first day of summer vacation of her second year at elementary school, and Tzuyu was waiting for him to come home.

But it was still a bit too early, and the sea was still deep and blue and empty.

Tzuyu leaned down and grabbed a handful of sand, watching it stream back to the ground between the gaps of her fingers. It was strange. She had plenty of friends at school, but it was just that: friends at school. She never saw them outside. Tzuyu couldn’t help but feel a deep, throbbing loneliness within her. It was a loneliness that grew by the minute.

It took a few seconds for her to register that the sand in her hand was getting wet because of her own tears.

Before she could use her free hand to wipe at her damp eyes, a sudden shadow appeared and, the next thing she knew, she saw a flash of brunette hair and very, very white teeth.

“It’s raining on your face.”

Stunned and still a bit shocked that someone had just appeared out of nowhere, Tzuyu stared in silence at the girl who had spoken to her. She was shorter than her and had chocolate brown hair. There were leaves and twigs caught within it. In fact, the girl looked like a complete mess. There was nothing haphazard about her smile, though. It was bright and pearly and unembarrassed.

“Are you sad about something?” The girl asked, “I’ve never seen you sad before. Oh, that probably sounds weird since you probably don’t know me, but I’ve seen you around at school. I’m in the class next to you.” She inclined her head and grinned, clasping her hands behind her back, “I’m Minatozaki Sana.”

It took another few seconds before Tzuyu could speak again.

“What’s wrong with your hair?” She blurted out suddenly.

“Huh?” Sana asked, immediately using both of her hands to grab bunches of chocolate brown hair. She raked out a few twigs and leaves, tossing them aside. “Oh, I was just running through some bushes earlier.”

“Through some bushes?”

“I was chasing a squirrel.” Sana blinked, as if it was a completely normal thing to do at 7am, “It was really big.” As if that could justify her chase.

Tzuyu couldn’t help it. She laughed.

“You’re laughing at me,” Sana pouted, putting her hands on her hips, “And here I thought you were sad about something!”

“Sorry,” Tzuyu said, rubbing at her eyes, which were still a bit red. “I didn’t mean to laugh. I’m Chou Tzuyu.”

“That’s a nice name,” Sana smiled, the pout gone from her expression as if it had never been there in the first place. “Do you want to swim with me, Tzuyu?”

“I thought you wanted to know if I was sad or not.”

“I did,” Sana admitted, “But then I saw you smile, so you must be feeling better already. Come on, let’s go!” She was already halfway across the sand and nearly to the shore before Tzuyu could even think of a response.

Sana’s smile was bright. And pearly. And unembarrassed.

It was also frustratingly contagious.

 

---

 

There wasn’t a single day that summer vacation that Tzuyu didn’t spend with Sana.

They raced each other while swimming in the ocean every single day, and unsurprisingly, Tzuyu won every single one of them, even when she gave Sana a head-start.

They’d spent hours at the beach digging up bugs with sticks and swatting them with handmade nets, but both of their mothers banned them from doing so again when Sana got stung by a bee and Tzuyu had to drag a crying Sana all the way home. (“Tzuyu-ya, I’m going to die!” “You’re not going to die!” “How do you know?!”)

That didn’t stop them from continuing to catch more bugs as soon as a band-aid was wrapped around Sana’s finger, though.

A week before Sana’s birthday, a stray puppy started following them to the beach. It wouldn’t leave their side the entire day, and by the time it was evening, Sana had already named him Pomu and made a very serious oath to protect him with her life. “He’s mine,” Sana said, wrapping her arms around the small dog. Her parents didn’t seem so enthused about the idea of a dog in the house.

Tzuyu met Park Jihyo at Sana’s birthday party. Jihyo was older and seemed like she knew how to do everything the right way, which Tzuyu was somewhat envious of. It seemed almost effortless in the way she convinced Sana’s parents about keeping Pomu. It was hard to forget the smile Sana made when Pomu burst through the inn’s front doors, wearing a lopsided party hat that said, “HAPPY BIRTHDAY SANA” on it. “Thank you,” Sana sobbed, pressing her cheek against Pomu’s so hard that it was almost as if they were trying to combine into a single entity, “I’ll love him forever.”

They’d build sand castles that towered above them, but it suddenly stopped being so fun once Pomu bulldozed his way through the castle Tzuyu spent five hours perfecting.

They visited aquariums, faces and hands pressed against the glass of fish tanks until they were told off by staff. Sana would spend an agonizing amount of time at the dolphin exhibit, and Tzuyu would have to drag her away, even though it was hard to resist Sana’s begging.

Tzuyu slept over at Sana’s house more times than she could count. Perhaps she spent even more nights at Sana’s than she did in her own home. Her father had come back, and Tzuyu was happy, but it was as if the dark shroud of loneliness within her had scattered and disappeared. It was as if sunrays had burst through.

They’d watch movies and anime and play video games together, which Sana was actually very good at. “I had lot of practice,” Sana grinned, “My father is a tough opponent.” Sometimes sleep wouldn’t come to them until past midnight, and they would just huddle together at the side of Sana’s bed, whispering not-too-scary ghost stories to each other under the dim light of an old flashlight. Tzuyu would wake up with her head nestled against Sana’s shoulder. Her best friend’s shoulder.

Jihyo came back to help them with their summer homework, which both Tzuyu and Sana shoved away until it was 3PM on the day before they had to return to school. Jihyo was patient and kind, but she knew not to let Sana out of her sight. It was one of the least fun days that Tzuyu ever had, but it was still alright, because Sana was there, even if they were adding and subtracting numbers for hours at a time.

Tzuyu and Sana ran together, bare feet against concrete and asphalt and sand and carpet and sea, every single day that summer, and every summer after that.

 

---

 

“Satang, what do you want to be when you grow up?”

They were in their second year of middle school. Sana was hugging the back of her chair, head resting against the top of it. She was looking outside the window of their classroom. They sometimes spent their lunch breaks in the classroom when the weather outside was gloomy.

“Dunno,” She finally replied, “I can’t think of anything.” She looked over at Tzuyu, who was sitting at the desk behind hers. “You want to be a ship captain like your dad, right?”

“Yeah,” Tzuyu nodded, “I’ll always love the sea the most.”

“What about me?” Sana pouted, before laughing, shaking her head.

Tzuyu hesitated for a brief second, her heart rate flaring up suddenly before receding to its normal rate. She swallowed thickly before laughing. “I guess I’ll always love you too, Satang.”

“You’re all sentimental now,” Sana rolled her eyes, “It was a joke.”

Tzuyu smiled, “I know.”

After a brief pause, Sana playfully shoved Tzuyu’s arm. “But…me too.”

“Hm?”

“I guess I’ll always love you too, Tzuyu.”

A pause. Tzuyu was becoming increasingly aware of the warmth tingling at the back of her neck, at the tips of her ears, in the depths of her tummy.

“Ahhh, I said it!” Sana laughed, throwing her head back and covering her face with her hands. She giggled, “It sounds so weird!”

“It does?” Tzuyu asked, somewhat nervously.

“Yeah, cause…we’re friends, you know.” Sana said, “We’ve been friends for so long, it sounds strange saying cheesy stuff like that, doesn’t it?” She looked at Tzuyu, “But still, I mean it.”

“I mean it too.” Tzuyu replied. She looked at Sana, studied her face, watched the way her lips always seemed to be curved upwards into a constant tiny smile.

Tzuyu reached into her bag, searching for the oranges she brought for lunch, but she brought out a fistful of orange peels instead.

“Did you eat my oranges?” Tzuyu asked, glaring at Sana, and her best friend stuck out her tongue in apology. “I take back my love,” Tzuyu huffed, “You can’t have it.”

“Whaaaaat? I can’t have any of it? Not even, like… a tiny bit of it?”

“Not even a tiny bit of it.”

“What am I without Tzuyu-chan’s love?” Sana called out dramatically, standing up and raising her arm out to the sky before collapsing back into her chair into another fit of laughs.

 

---

 

Tzuyu threw her goggles to the floor. The clattering echoed in the locker room. She had been good, but not good enough. The national competition for middle school swimming was out of sight forever. Tzuyu crumpled to the floor, slumping against her locker. She had been too slow. She was never too slow, but she had been too slow today, when it mattered the most.

“Tzuyu-ya…”

Tzuyu looked up at the door of the locker room. Sana was staring at her, mouth open, eyes sad.

Tzuyu ran her arm across her face, wiping away tears and leftover pool water. “Don’t look at me.” She said, before burying her face in her arms, hiccupping as she sobbed.

“You tried your best…” Sana knelt down beside her, wrapping her arms around her and pulling her close, “You tried your best, and you were really good, there’s always high sch—”

“My best wasn’t enough!”

Tzuyu had never yelled like this before. Sana stumbled back, eyes wide open.

Tzuyu immediately felt regret pulsing within her. She hadn’t meant to yell at her, she hadn’t meant to scare her. The look of fear and shock on Sana’s face was almost too terrible to bear, but Tzuyu couldn’t stop. She was angry and frustrated and even though she didn’t want to make Sana sad, she couldn’t stop herself.

“Stop telling me I did my best! As if doing my best can do anything! It’s no use if my best isn’t the best!” Her face was hot with tears, her voice was shaky with sobs. “If you don’t understand, then maybe you should just leave me alone.”

“But…” Sana began, “I was just…”

“I don’t care!” Tzuyu seethed, “I don’t care, I don’t care, I don’t care. It must be great doing nothing with your life, Sana. It must be great to have nothing you’re passionate about. It must be great to go home every single day without having a bunch of grown-ups breathing down your neck about how you have to be the best, how it’d help the school so much if you won, how it should be a piece of cake for me to make it to nationals. It must be great to have nothing you can win or lose at.”

Stop, stop, stop. Don’t yell at her, don’t do this. Stop.

“I tried my best and I got nowhere and now all of my hard work has gone to , and now all of those people who wanted me to win will hate me. I don’t care about doing my best right now. I don’t care about anything. Leave me alone, Sana. Just go away!”

Tzuyu buried her face into her arms again, from both anger and shame. Shame and regret and shock and disgust.

She could hear Sana cry. She could hear Sana’s chest heaving with sobs, she could hear Sana hiccupping. But she couldn’t hear Sana leave, because Sana wasn’t going to leave even if Tzuyu yelled at her to go away, because that wasn’t Sana. Sana wouldn’t leave Chou Tzuyu no matter what.

Tzuyu felt trembling arms around her, trying to pull her in, trying to hold her close.

“Sana, I told you to—” Tzuyu began, but Sana interrupted her.

“I know, Tzuyu-ya.” She whispered, her voice almost incomprehensible through her crying, “I know. But I can’t. You know that, right? You know I can’t leave you.”

There was a long pause. Tzuyu was in Sana’s arms, her face pressed against her torso.

“Why aren’t you made at me?” Tzuyu mumbled into Sana’s tear-soaked shirt, “Why don’t you hate me?”

Sana gave a small, hiccupping laugh. “I’m mad,” She admitted, “I’m so mad, Tzuyu. I want to punch you.”

“I deserve it.”

“You do. You deserve a hundred of Satang’s monster punches.”

“A thousand of them.”

“A million.”

Tzuyu laughed.

“…I’m sorry, Satang. I shouldn’t have said those things.”

“It’s okay,” Sana finally replied, “It’s okay.”

 

---

 

At the beginning of their first year of high school, they visit Seoul. It’s bright, colorful, and shiny, but it doesn’t take long for Sana to be entranced by a glittering TV screen.

In the Seoul hotel that night, Sana can’t stop rattling off to Tzuyu about K-Pop Idols. It’s the first time Tzuyu sees her eyes so bright. A warmth settles into her stomach.

It’s a familiar warmth, one that comes and goes with its intensity, but always seems to be there in some capacity. It is the strongest when Sana smiles, when Sana shines, when Tzuyu lies in bed in the middle of the night, and, for some weird reason, thinks about the scent of Sana’s hair and the smell of Sana’s soap.

It’s a warmth that appears when Sana makes a stupid pun and Tzuyu has to laugh or Sana will tickle her to death, it’s a warmth that appears when Sana calls her in the middle of the night because she just accidentally ate her brother’s pudding that was in the fridge and that if she happened to get murdered by Seichii-nii the next day, Tzuyu would get full ownership over Pomu and all the yen currently in her piggy bank.

It’s a warmth that flares when Sana gets close to her, when Sana wraps her arm around her shoulder or loops her arm around her elbow. It’s a warmth that spikes when Sana leans dangerously close to Tzuyu, asking her if it’s true that if you eat too much oranges, your hair actually starts to smell like it. Is it true? Tzuyu doesn’t know. All she can smell is flowers. All she can see is brown eyes. All she can feel is a tingling sensation that seems to spread throughout her entire body.

It’s a warmth that scares her when she catches herself thinking, Sana is so beautiful.

“I think I finally found it,” Sana said, leaning forward and grabbing Tzuyu’s hands with her own, “I found something I can be passionate about!”

Tzuyu flushed suddenly, memories of her argument with Sana in the locker room suddenly flooding back.

“K-Pop Idols, Tzuyu! I can’t believe I never heard about them! Look, I already Googled a bunch of stuff about SNSD!” She shoved her phone in Tzuyu’s face. Tzuyu just saw a bunch of photos of pretty girls in various themed outfits.

“They’re so…”

“Bright!” Sana finished for her, “They sparkle so much! It’s amazing. You need to watch their performances. I’ll send you a YouTube playlist.” She tapped furiously on her phone.

“You want to become one?” Tzuyu asked.

Sana paused, hesitating suddenly. “Is that… weird?” She asked, tugging at a strand of her hair, “They sparkle so much, but I don’t know if I can…”

“No, no, it’s not weird!” Tzuyu said quickly, holding up her hands defensively, “You sparkle a lot already.”

“Not like them,” Sana shook her head, “I have to shine like them. I have to be pretty, you know? Or… cool.”

“You’re already pretty,” Tzuyu said, “And cool.”

Sana pouted, “You’re just saying that because you’re my best friend.”

“No, I’m saying that because it’s the truth,” Tzuyu frowned, “If you want to do it, you should do it. If you set your mind to it, I know you can do anything.”

Sana smiles, “Thanks, Tzuyu-chan.”

“Nothing to be thankful over,” Tzuyu mumbled sheepishly, “Like I said, it’s the truth.”

Sana leans over suddenly, wrapping her arms around Tzuyu’s head and pulling her close. “Where would I be without you?” She asked, laughing a bit, and Tzuyu felt a tingling sensation again.

“I should be the one asking that question,” Tzuyu said, “Where would I be without you there to lead the way?”

 

---

 

“You like Sana, don’t you?”

Tzuyu froze, nearly dropping the diving tank she was lifting. She looked over at Jihyo, whose expression was weirdly placid and untelling.

“Of course I like Sana,” Tzuyu replied, setting down the diving tank, “She isn’t a bad person.”

“You know what I meant,” Jihyo said.

“I thought I came here to help you out, not for an interrogation session.” Tzuyu grumbled, and Jihyo laughed.

“Well, you haven’t denied it yet, so I’m assuming I hit it right on the nose.” Jihyo walked over to her and lightly rapped her knuckles against Tzuyu’s head, “For someone with so much forward motion, I’m surprised you haven’t done anything about it yet.”

“What do you want me to do?” Tzuyu asked, rubbing her head, “Confess?”

“Well, that’s usually how relationships begin, right?” Jihyo asked, tilting her head to the side with a smile.

“What do you know about relationships?”

“Nothing at all.”

“Liar.”

“I’m the one interrogating you, okay?” Jihyo raised her eyebrow.

Tzuyu sighed, “Relationships have to be a mutual thing.”

“Who says it can’t be mutual? Sana could like you.”

“Sana would be crazy to like me.” Tzuyu said, “After all, she has Dahyun now.”

“Dahyun? The girl who went diving with you guys last week?”

“Yeah.” Tzuyu paused, “She’s really pretty, and they’ve been hanging out together a lot. They sort of have this… connection, you know.” She wrung her hands, “This weird… poetic, musical connection. Like they’re two halves of a whole.”

Jihyo frowned, “Just because they seem so compatible doesn’t mean that Sana likes her.”

“But who wouldn’t like Dahyun?” Tzuyu asked, “She’s pretty, and she’s from Seoul, and she knows how to play the piano. And she knows how to talk to Sana about her feelings, even though they just met.” She continued to twiddle her thumbs, “I don’t know. They seem like soulmates.”

“What do you know about soulmates?” Jihyo said, “Life doesn’t have to be some dramatic movie, Tzuyu. Your connection with Sana could be just as strong. You know her better than anyone else.”

“Yeah, I do,” Tzuyu said, “That’s why I know that she doesn’t like me. That she can’t like me.” She glanced over at the horizon, where the sky was becoming orange with the oncoming sunset.

“I’m going to go, it’s getting late.” She said, “Thanks for inviting me over, Jihyo-unnie.”

 

---

 

Tzuyu had never seen Sana like this before.

A Sana who was holding herself back, a Sana who wanted to cry but wouldn’t, who couldn’t, for the sake of others. Tzuyu laid in bed, staring up at the ceiling, wondering what she could possibly do to help. What she could say. It was always Sana who said the right things to her, who managed to unravel her. Now Sana was the one who needed help, who desperately needed to be told that it was okay to be her, that it was okay to be Minatozaki Sana, that it was okay to be sad, and Tzuyu didn’t know what to do.

Sleep didn’t last long. Dahyun’s phone call jolted her awake soon after.

“Dahyun? What is it? It’s like, 5am or something.” Tzuyu yawned into the receiver.

“It’s Sana! She disappeared somewhere! I think she went to the beach, but I can’t find her anywhere. Can you call the others? Can you get over here immediately?”

Tzuyu had never felt more afraid. Her heart pounded as she raced out of the house, barefoot and with her jacket barely on.

But despite this fear, despite the panic coursing within her, she knew it was going to be okay. Because Dahyun was the one there, because Sana would come back if Dahyun was the one to outstretch her hand towards her.

 

---

 

The training camp for Dancers’ Guild at the school was successful. The two nights they had been there, Tzuyu had woken up in the middle of the night to see both Sana and Dahyun’s futons warm, but empty. An aching feeling had settled in her heart, one that seemed to outdo the warmth she felt when she thought about Sana.

She had half a mind to go outside and look for them, but in the end, Tzuyu stayed where she was. She wasn’t sure if she wanted to see them. If she was ready to see them.

 

---

 

Tzuyu came home to her father sitting at the kitchen table, drinking coffee out of a mug.

“Dad!” Tzuyu’s face lit up immediately, and she ran into her father’s outstretched arms.

“Hey captain,” He smiled and, just as he used to do, removed his captain’s hat and placed it atop of Tzuyu’s head. It was still too big, but it didn’t fall over her eyes this time.

“I heard from your mother that you and Sana have been trainees recently. How’s that going?”

“It’s been… fun,” Tzuyu replied, “We’ve been placed into a group with other seven trainees, and they’re all great. I’ll bring them over someday!”

“Sounds like a plan,” He said, saluting. Tzuyu saluted back.

“Dad, your boat is at the dock, right?” She asked, “Do you think I can take it for a spin tomorrow?”

He frowned, already mouthing a refusal, but Tzuyu continued, “I promise I’ll take care of it! And I won’t go far! You know I can do it, I showed you I can do it! Please?”

 

---

 

“It’s been a long time since I’ve been on your dad’s boat, Tzuyu!” Sana grinned, spinning around on deck as Tzuyu took her place at the helm.

“Don’t jump around too much or you’ll fall right off,” Tzuyu said, but it was nice to see Sana so happy. Now that she had thought about it, they had both been so busy with school and being trainees that it’s been a long time since it was just her and Sana. Even though Tzuyu loved being with the other trainees, it was nice and almost nostalgic to spend time with just her best friend.

It took a bit, but they were soon at sea. Just as she promised, Tzuyu never left the nearby dock area, so she simply rocked the boat in a slow circular path. The weather was nice that day, and the salty breeze felt cool and pleasant against her skin. She closed her eyes for a brief moment, taking in the ocean.

“You know, Tzuyu, you look the coolest like that.”

Tzuyu flushed immediately, looking over at Sana, “What do you mean?”

“You know… with the captain’s hat and everything. And how determined you look when you’re focused on steering.” Sana commented, “It looks cool.”

“It isn’t the first time you’ve seen me like this,” Tzuyu muttered, turning her head to the side.

“Well, I didn’t always think like that,” Sana said bluntly, “But now I do. I think you look the best like this, Tzuyu. When you’re at sea. You look like you can do anything.”

There it was again. That warmth.

That dull pain in her heart.

She adjusted the hat, suddenly feeling self-conscious. “I feel like I can go anywhere when I’m the captain. I feel like the entire sea is at my disposal.” She said, “But I can’t do everything.”

“Yes you can,” Sana said, “You’re really nice. People love you. And you’re a good swimmer, too. You try really hard at everything, and…” She trailed off, “You’re always there for me, even when I’m not for you.”

“That isn’t true. You’re always there for me. I’m the one…”

“You think I haven’t noticed?”

It was as if the world suddenly became silent. If a pin dropped at the other side of the world, Tzuyu was sure she could have heard it.

“Noticed what?” She finally asked, unable to look at Sana’s face.

“My brother always tell me ‘Tzuyu knows you the best of all!’ But it works the other way around too. I know you better than anyone else. I know you better than anything.”

“What are you trying to say?”

“It took me a while, you know. Because I was so sad, and so upset at myself. I was so disappointed in myself for letting everyone down that it took me a while to realize why you looked at me that way. Why you looked at Dahyun that way. Why you looked at us that way.”

“Sana, let’s go home.” Tzuyu placed her hands on the helm, ready to turn, but she suddenly felt a warm hand wrap around her own. “Sana, please don’t,” She whispered. Her voice was so quiet that she wasn’t even sure if she said them out loud.

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

She’s crying. Damn it, she’s crying. I always do that to her, I always make her cry, I always…

“Why didn’t you tell me you were hurt? Why didn’t you tell me you were sad? You always… you always tell me everything. You’re always so straightforward. ‘Full speed ahead’. That’s you, Tzuyu-ya. So why didn’t you tell me you weren’t happy? Did you think I wouldn’t care? That I wouldn’t find out eventually? That because Dahyun is there, that I wouldn’t want you as my best friend anymore?”

Tzuyu was silent. She didn’t know what to say. There was nothing she could say.

“I want you to tell me everything, Tzuyu. I want to be with you forever. You know I can’t leave you, I can’t ever leave you.”

Tzuyu felt hot. She felt sick. Her stomach was churning, her heart was pounding. Sana’s crying echoed in her ears.

Tzuyu looked up. She took a step forward, her teary vision a blur of Sana’s brown hair, Sana’s brown eyes. The boat lurched slightly.

She kissed Sana sloppily, clumsily. She nearly missed, but Sana’s arms had gone up to steady her. Their lips are pressed against each other for a solid half a second before Tzuyu finally pulled away.

“Oh god, Sana, I’m sorry, that was… that was…” There was nowhere to run. If Tzuyu really wanted to do so, she could dive off the boat and become a mermaid and never come back. It was tempting.

“Don’t you dare say that was an accident,” Sana said, “I’ll give you a Satang monster punch if you do.”

“What?” Tzuyu asked, too stunned to react otherwise.

Sana stepped forward and wrapped her arms around Tzuyu’s neck. She was still teary-eyed, but she was smiling, and all Tzuyu could see were white, pearly teeth. A smile of relief.

“Don’t tell me you liked that,” Tzuyu whispered, almost too scared to hear the response.

“Of course I liked it! I’m not dumb! Of course I like you, Tzuyu!”

Suddenly, the world made noise again. Tzuyu could hear the seagulls cry, the gentle lull and crash of the waves beneath them, the distant noise of the people at the dock.

And then Tzuyu began to cry.

“This entire time,” She hiccupped, wiping at her face with her sleeves, “This entire time I thought you didn’t like me, that you couldn’t like me, that it was impossible for someone as great and beautiful and shining like you could ever like me. Because you’re my best friend and I thought that I could never be good enough, that I could try my best at everything else in the world but no matter what I do I wouldn’t be able to be anything more to you. I can’t even comfort you when you cry, I can’t even fix anything when you’re sad, I can’t do any of those things, I wasn’t good enough at any of those things, that matter how long I knew or how hard I tried, I can’t be your other half—”

“I don’t you to be my other half!” Sana interrupted, “I just need you to be Tzuyu.” She un-looped her arms from around Tzuyu’s neck, and pinched her cheeks with both hands, “The same Tzuyu I met all those years ago. That Tzuyu is good enough, that Tzuyu will always be the best. I like it the best when you’re honest with me.”

Tzuyu hiccupped. They stood there in silence for a few moments as Tzuyu regained her breath, as the tears began to dry from her face.

“Let’s go home, captain.” Sana said softly. Tzuyu leaned her head against her shoulder, looking downwards so that her smile was hidden from Sana.

“Okay,” She finally replied. Tzuyu lifted her head a bit, looking over Sana’s shoulder at the sea that expanded beyond them. A clear, nearly white sky. Blue water that shone. Sana’s windswept brown hair. Sana’s brown eyes, still a bit wet from tears. Sana’s frustratingly contagious smile.

Yes, Tzuyu liked this view of the ocean the best.