It hasn’t always been like this.

Chaeyoung will never forget that second day of first grade: the blisters forming on her chubby little toddler hands, her knees skinned raw from another failed attempt at the monkey bars. She was getting ready to give it another go when she spotted a commotion at the other end of the playground. 

Next to the sandpit, Mark and Jackson lorded over a girl sitting on the ground. They stepped on her dress and tugged at her braids, their taunts echoing all the way across the yard. Even from a distance, Chaeyoung could see that the girl was on the verge of tears. She was that new girl, who hadn’t gone to kindergarten with them and never raised her hand in class. Even for the fun stuff, like being line leader and handing out snacks, she kept her head bowed, eyes tracing invisible patterns on the surface of her desk. The teacher had said she was from Taiwan, which sounded very far away to Chaeyoung. She thought it was cool. Maybe the girl had gotten to fly in an airplane. Airplanes are very cool. Mark and Jackson seemed to have a different perspective.

“Can you even spell your own name?” Chaeyoung heard Jackson ask as she approached them. The girl on the ground gaped up at him, eyes wide and round, lips quivering as if trying to sound out what the boy was saying. Mark didn’t give her the time.

“Of course she can’t, look at her!” he jeered. “I don’t think the idiot even understood the question.”

Chaeyoung burst on the scene, lunging through the sand pit to get in between the boys and their victim. “Hey! Don’t say that about her!”

Recovering from the initial shock, Jackson and Mark shared a look, unimpressed. “What are you going to do about it?”

“This!”

She raised a savage, six-year-old-sized shoe and, before they had time to react, kicked up a wave of sand. Mark and Jackson shrieked and shielded their faces, but she was unrelenting until they backed away, shouting and rubbing at their eyes. 

“Fine, fine, we’ll leave her alone!” they cried. They ran off to the jungle gym, all the way about their eyes, but Chaeyoung paid them no attention. She turned to kneel in front of the new girl, hands offered in a gesture of placation. The girl looked up at her with those same, wide eyes.

“I’m sorry about them.” Chaeyoung brushed some sand off of the girl’s skirt. “It’s okay if you can’t speak very well, they’re the idiots. Mark couldn’t even subtract last year.”

The girl nodded, biting her lip. “I can speak,” she said haltingly, like she was thinking a lot about every word. “I just need to go slow.”

“Oh,” Chaeyoung said. She was shocked to hear the girl’s voice: hesitant, but full of expression. “That’s okay. I can go slow.” She took a deep breath. “My. Name. Is. Chae. Young.”

The girl giggled, laughter lighting up her face. “Hello, Chaeyoung. I’m Tzuyu.”

Tzuyu , Chaeyoung thought. I’ve never met a girl with a name like that .

“I. Like. Your. Name.” Chaeyoung droned.

“Thank you,” Tzuyu said. Then she blushed, and looked down to fiddle with some buttons on her dress, avoiding Chaeyoung’s eyes. “And thank you for saving me.”

“Oh, it’s no big deal,” Chaeyoung brushed it off. “They’re always so mean, someone needed to stop them.”

Tzuyu lifted her head and leaned up, pressing a soft kiss to Chaeyoung’s cheek. “My hero,” she murmured.

Chaeyoung almost lost her balance, surprise weakening her knees, and when she saw the pink that dotted Tzuyu’s cheeks, she blushed to match. Though she played her humble act, Chaeyoung’s heart swelled with the idea of being someone’s hero.

After that, Chaeyoung and Tzuyu formed a bond that no one could break. They followed one another throughout the rest of elementary and middle school, encouraging and uplifting and united. Tzuyu supported Chaeyoung while she dreamed of being an artist and chopped all of her hair off. Even when other kids mocked her and called it ugly, Tzuyu dried her tears and said she was the prettiest girl she’d ever seen. Chaeyoung supported Tzuyu as she learned more Korean and grew taller, until she towered over every girl in school and Chaeyoung herself. Chaeyoung, of course, was ready to pummel anyone who was going to call Tzuyu ugly, but it didn’t happen all that often. People were more likely to say Tzuyu was the prettiest girl they’d ever seen. And Chaeyoung couldn’t really disagree.  

It was hard to say exactly when Chaeyoung realized she had feelings for Tzuyu. When did that burn in her chest, whenever Tzuyu brushed flakes of paint off of her shirt or fed Chaeyoung a bit of her lunch, become too obvious to ignore? In some sense, the feelings had probably always been there, lying dormant, waiting for an unwelcome bout of hormones to turn a perfect friendship into a guarded secret. Because no matter when it was that Chaeyoung discovered the too-quick beating of her heart, recognized the near-constant blush on her cheeks, she had always understood that she could never, ever tell Tzuyu about it. 

It was far easier for Chaeyoung to pinpoint the moment she knew her friend was being taken away from her. She’d even encouraged it at the time.

“I think I want to try out for the cheerleading squad.”

Chaeyoung was taken aback. As far as she knew, they had just been commiserating over their lunch trays about the amount of homework Mrs. Lee had assigned to them. Where did this come from?

Chaeyoung took another bite of her sandwich. “Where’d you get that idea?”

“One of the captains is in my PE class,” Tzuyu explained, barely-concealed nerves shivering in her voice. “She came up to me while we were running laps and said I should consider it.”

“Huh,” Chaeyoung said. She kept her focus squarely on her lunch, kept her face clear of emotion. It’s not like it was a horrible idea. In fact, Tzuyu would probably be an incredible cheerleader. But she stayed mum. 

“What do you think?” Tzuyu prodded cautiously. “Should I try it?”

“Uh, I don’t know. If you want to, I guess, it can’t hurt to try.”

“Do you think I’d actually be able to do it?”

At those words, Chaeyoung looked up to see doubt lining Tzuyu’s face. The worry reminded Chaeyoung all too strongly of that day in first grade, and, naturally, she had to be an idiot and play the hero here as well.

“Of course, you’ll be able to do it,” she said sincerely. She reached out, grabbing her friend’s trembling hand. “You’re Chou Tzuyu. I don’t believe there’s anything you can’t do.”

Chaeyoung convinced herself that the smile Tzuyu gave her right then was absolutely worth anything that came afterwards.

It was worth watching Tzuyu go up to Sana, co-captain of the cheer squad, and nervously accept the offer.

It was worth watching her practice her audition routine for hours, even if she had no way of telling Tzuyu if that jump was straight enough, or her form solid enough.

It was worth celebrating when she got in, just like Chaeyoung always said she would, with ice cream and the heavy weight of knowing daily practice meant they wouldn’t get to see each other all that often anymore.

It was worth watching Tzuyu make a bunch of new friends, who were all pretty and funny and nice, and impossible to hate, no matter how much Chaeyoung wanted to.

It was worth it, she insisted. 

You know that’s a lie, her heart whispered. 

Shut up, she hissed back.

And that is how Chaeyoung finds herself now, sitting alone in the corner of the lunchroom, watching Tzuyu from afar as she sits with the other members of the cheerleading team. Tzuyu would never let her sit alone if she knew it was happening, but Chaeyoung fed her some lie about art club meetings during lunch and set her free to sit with who she really wanted to. It was a small price to pay for the shy smiles she sees gracing Tzuyu’s face as she talks to her new friends. Smiles that only Chaeyoung had been able to get out of her at one point in their lives. 

It doesn’t escape her how pathetic she is. But even still, the universe decides to send a reminder.

“Hey, Son, loving the haircut. I see you’re still going for the whole ‘homeless lesbo’ thing, very fitting.”

A boy drops his stuff down next to her, rattling her lunch tray. She bows her head, scowling at her feet. She doesn’t have to look up to know who it is.

“Aw, come on, Son, don’t give me that.”

“What do you want, Mark?” Chaeyoung says through gritted teeth. The slimey grin settles even deeper into his face.

Though Jackson matured since first grade, joining the basketball team and cleaning up his act, his counterpart did not follow. Mark stayed in the back of his classes, smoked in the bathrooms, and generally didn’t care about anything. That is, except for harassing Chaeyoung at any opportunity, which he did with dedication and purpose otherwise absent in his education. It was typically no more than pestering, and not very frequent, until Chaeyoung started sitting alone more often, and the opportunities became more ubiquitous. 

Tzuyu would probably make him stop, or at least sit by her so he wouldn’t have the chance, but Chaeyoung hasn’t told her about it. Nor does she plan to. One more secret can’t hurt, right?

“I just want to talk to you,” Mark says, the amusement in his voice sending worms crawling through Chaeyoung’s stomach.

“Well, I’m not in the mood,” she returns, hoping that can be the end of it. It isn’t.

Mark reaches out, placing a hand on her shoulder that she immediately bats away. He grimaces, stretching out again and catching her in a vise-like grip.

“Hey, you should show some gratitude,” he admonishes, threat dripping through the cracks in his casual facade. “It’s not like anyone else is lining up to talk to you.”

The lunch bell rings, and a fresh wave of noise sweeps the cafeteria as people start to go back to class. Mark releases her shoulder, almost shoving her back. He takes his bag and stands, sending her one last smirk. “See you tomorrow, Son,” he says, then joins the crowd of people streaming out of the room.

Chaeyoung exhales shakily, finally looking up at the spot he vacated. Then she glances around, to see if maybe anyone noticed what happened. No one had. The cheerleaders’ table is empty, Tzuyu nowhere to be found. Chaeyoung’s shoulder burns, and she can feel bruises forming where his fingertips pressed into her skin.

She stands up, clears her tray, and walks to class.

“I was so worried I was going to mess up my flip, but Jihyo told me after practice that she was really impressed.”

“Mhmm.”

“Like I’ve seen her get pissed at Nayeon and Jeongyeon for messing up, and I don’t ever want to be on the receiving end of that.”

“Totally.”

“But they’re all so nice to me. Momo and Mina helped me when I couldn’t figure out part of the routine and they’re so good at it, but they didn’t make me feel stupid for needing help. They all just make me feel really included.”

“That’s nice.”

“Yeah,” Tzuyu says. “It really is.” She trails off, looking up from where she was painting her fingernails. “Did you listen to a word I just said?”

Chaeyoung, hanging upside down off of her bed and scrolling through her phone, looks up in all sincerity. “Of course, I was.”
Tzuyu gives her a skeptical look, but goes back to what she was doing, finishing off her right hand. They’re hanging out in Chaeyoung’s bedroom, taking a break from a weekend fraught with cheer practice (Tzuyu), painting (Chaeyoung), and studying (tragically both). There comes a certain point in a friendship where you can be comfortable simply being in each other’s presence, without needing to put humongous effort into maintaining an animated dialogue. Chaeyoung and Tzuyu passed that point about four years ago, so it is with security that they respectively go about their own business in Chaeyoung’s room—nail painting (Tzuyu), scrolling aimlessly through Twitter (Chaeyoung)—and feel no qualms about the unenthusiastic conversation. Well, neither feel like making it obvious that they have qualms, but there were some subtle hints being dropped.  

“Last practice, I found out Sana and Momo are dating,” Tzuyu comments lightly. 

Chaeyoung’s eyes widen, looking up from her phone once again. Tzuyu’s focus remains on her nails, but Chaeyoung can tell she’s waiting for a response.

“Why are you telling me that?” Chaeyoung asks, with more venom than she intended. 

Tzuyu shrugs defensively. “I don’t know, Chaeyoung,” she says, exasperated. “I’m just trying to make conversation. Do you have anything you’d like to talk about?”

Chaeyoung has plenty to talk about. She can talk about the abandonment she feels every time Tzuyu mentions another member of the cheerleading team. She can talk about the stuttering of her heart every time Tzuyu so much as gives her a passing glance in the hallway. She can mention how she doesn’t want to spend the little time they have together talking about the very people who make that time so limited. She can show Tzuyu the pattern of black and blue that Mark painted across her rib cage yesterday, and maybe she could actually get Tzuyu to pay attention to her again. She can talk about the reason why Sana and Momo’s relationship sends bolts of anxiety shooting to her stomach. 

But then again, no qualms. She doesn’t want to ruin the mood by bringing up her problems, so she settles for what she hopes comes across as a neutral question.

“How do you feel about it?” Chaeyoung asks.

Tzuyu blows on her nails. “Feel about what?”

“You know,” Chaeyoung sits up, straightening herself on the bed and setting her phone down, “Sana and Momo.”

“Oh,” Tzuyu furrows her brow. “Well, I’m not against it, if that’s what you mean. They’re both great. Kinda heavy on PDA, don’t know how I didn’t see it before. But uh, it’s not all that bad.”

Chaeyoung nods along silently, avoiding eye contact. 

“I want you to meet them.”

“Who, Sana and Momo?”

“No, all of them.”

Chaeyoung sighs, “I don’t know.”

“Come on,” Tzuyu insists. “They’ll love you.” 

“Well, obviously, I’m not worried about that,” Chaeyoung says, voice full of bravado. “It’s just that I’ll be simply too cool, they’ll immediately want me to replace you.”

Tzuyu giggles. “Honestly, you could totally be a flyer. You’re small enough.”

“Hey!” Chaeyoung protests, but looking at the smile on Tzuyu’s face, she can find no real anger. 

Without warning, Tzuyu stands up from Chaeyoung’s desk and jumps on the bed, landing halfway on top of her friend. Pain lances up Chaeyoung’s body and she lets out a barely-stifled cry into Tzuyu’s shoulder.

“Are you okay?” Tzuyu asks, concerned. She rolls onto her side and props herself up on her elbow.

“I’m fine,” Chaeyoung squeaks, then clears . “You’re just heavy. And all those gangly limbs, you could’ve strangled me.”

Tzuyu rolls her eyes, but is smiling anyways. “I really think you’d like them. They’re just like me.”

Chaeyoung looks away, trying to remain cool with Tzuyu’s face a mere two inches from her own. “Who says I like you?”

“I do,” Tzuyu says. “I know you like me.”

Chaeyoung scoffs. You have no idea.

 “Listen,” Tzuyu starts. “Some of the girls want to do something for my birthday. It’s not happening if you aren’t there. Just come and meet them, and you will realize that they are great. It would mean a lot to me if you would try.”

Chaeyoung turns back, ready to let her down gently, but she should know by now that denying Tzuyu will never be something she is capable of. 

“Fine,” she groans. 

Tzuyu squeals and pulls her into a hug. Chaeyoung feels lightheaded. From the sharp stinging in her ribs, but even more, from the acute shock to her heart.

Tzuyu’s backyard looks a lot smaller with so many people in it, and Chaeyoung feels a lot smaller too. 

This is the place where they spent their childhood together. Where Chaeyoung rescued Tzuyu from dragons and they dug up dinosaur bones. There may only be nine people here, but that was seven more than were ever included in the fantasies. It had always just been them. But now Tzuyu is inside getting more drinks, and it’s hard not to question if there even is a ‘them’ anymore.

Chaeyoung sits on the outskirts of the scene, watching as the members of JYP’s esteemed competitive cheer team all got progressively sillier. There is no alcohol being served—Tzuyu’s parents were watching the proceedings with eagle eyes from the kitchen window—but even still, Chaeyoung watches in comparative somber sobriety as everyone else manages to have fun. 

She is just contemplating whether anyone would notice if she left when someone comes and stands in front of her, cracked can of soda in one hand and the offering of a fresh one in the other. Chaeyoung looks up at the girl skeptically, not recognizing nor trusting her, but is met with a grin anyways.

“I thought all that sulking might have you parched,” the girl remarks lightly.

Chaeyoung scowls. “I wasn’t—”

“Yeah, sure you weren’t.” The girl sits down. “I get it, Chaeyoung, parties can be stressful.”

“How do you know my name?” 

The girl chuckles, eyes curving into a smile. “Tzuyu only talks about you all the damn time,” she replies. “I’d have to be trying at this point to not know who you are.”

That takes Chaeyoung by surprise. Could Tzuyu really be spending time with all of these cool people and still be thinking, even talking, about her? The thought is too good to be true. She immediately suppresses it. 

“Well, I’m sorry,” Chaeyoung says. “I don’t know who you are. I feel like I haven’t even seen you at practice with all of them.”

The girl shrugs. “Nah, that’s fine, don’t worry about it. I’m Dahyun, I’m the mascot. You probably don’t recognize me without the giant foam head.”

Chaeyoung reels back. “You’re the mascot? The one who led the flashmob during fourth period and hit Principal Park with a hammer?”

Dahyun beams, clearly glowing with pride. “The one and only.”

“Wow,” Chaeyoung breathes. “You’re an inspiration.” She surveys the rest of the party, watching as Jihyo tries to stop Nayeon from pouring soda down Jeongyeon’s top. “I already like you way more than most of the people here.”

“Ah, come on,” Dahyun groans amicably. Chaeyoung’s scowl returns, eyes fixed steadily on the dirt at her feet.

Dahyun sighs. “Listen, I totally understand your worries about them. I felt the same when I first met them all. I know they just seem like Tzuyu’s loud, excitable new friends and that can be a lot. And yeah, they can be loud, and abbrasive and intimidating. But I swear, they’re some of the nicest people you’ll ever meet. Just give them a shot.” 

Chaeyoung grunts, unmoved. 

Dahyun side-eyes her. “I know I’m not the only one who wants you to get along with them. If you aren’t going to listen to me, you should at least listen to Tzuyu. Doing whatever you can to make her happy will probably be your best strategy in the long run.”

Chaeyoung returns the side-eye, catching the glimmer of amusement in Dahyun’s gaze. “What do you mean by—”

“Dahyunnie, come help us!”

The two girls turn their heads to see Sana and Momo giggling as they struggle to hold onto Gucci, who’s barking excitedly at a stray cat peeking over the fence.

“I guess I should go do something about that,” Dahyun grimaces, standing up.

“Good luck, he can be a biter,” Chaeyoung comments wryly.

Dahyun’s grimace deepens. “Is now a good time to tell you I’m afraid of dogs?”

Nevertheless, Dahyun trudges across the yard bravely and Chaeyoung watches as she attempts to untangle the dog’s leash from Momo’s legs, hampered only by Gucci’s passionate barking and Sana’s own attempts to help.

“Hey.”

A quiet voice next to her almost sends Chaeyoung shooting out of her seat. Tzuyu giggles, taking the spot Dahyun vacated on the bench.

“Are you having fun?” Tzuyu asks.

Chaeyoung doesn’t want to bring her friend down on her birthday. “Yeah, I’m having the time of my life over here.”

Tzuyu shoves her playfully. “Well, I know that’s a lie. Seriously, how’s it going?”

Chaeyoung shrugs apologetically, and Tzuyu gives her a persistent frown. 

“Fine,” Chaeyoung huffs, giving in. “Dahyun seemed nice.”

A bright smile splits Tzuyu’s face. “I knew you would like her. You guys are so similar.”

“If this is a crack at both of our heights, I’m telling her that you said that,” Chaeyoung says in faux indignance. Tzuyu’s smile grows impossibly brighter. An ache swells in Chaeyoung’s chest, just next to the burn in her sides from where Tzuyu’s innocent push jostled her newest bruises. Mark always makes sure they aren’t visible, but they serve as a constant reminder of exactly why she can’t feel this way about her friend.

“Have you talked to anyone else tonight?”

Chaeyoung averts her eyes. “I was petting Gucci earlier.”

“That doesn’t count,” Tzuyu chides. “I swear, you’d like them if you got to know them. They’re really nice, and funny, and they want to meet you.”

Every compliment feels like another kick in Chaeyoung’s side, even if the rational part of her brain knows the cheerleading squad has never actually done anything to deserve her antagonism. 

“Tzuyu…” Chaeyoung starts, with no plan for a finish, but she’s cut off by her best friend’s pout before that becomes an issue.

“Come on,” Tzuyu pleads, “Just eat some cake with them.” The fading twilight makes her eye’s shine, and Chaeyoung finds herself blinded.

The group settles themselves around the long picnic table, Tzuyu at the head wearing a ridiculous birthday hat and an unabashed smile. Chaeyoung sits on her left and finds mirroring the grin less difficult than she imagined. Tzuyu’s mom places the cake on the table in front of them, sixteen flickering candles dancing in the fading light. The girls sing Happy Birthday, and Tzuyu makes her wish, extinguishing all the little stars in one blow.

Tzuyu’s mom starts passing out pieces and Chaeyoung leans into her friend’s ear.

“What’d you wish for?” Chaeyoung asks with a smirk, not anticipating an answer. 

Tzuyu pauses, but then responds. “More of this,” she says softly, a dreamy grin gracing her face along with smears of frosting. 

Chaeyoung surveys the table. Jeongyeon and Mina are armwrestling over a corner piece, cheered on by Nayeon and heavily judged by Jihyo. Dahyun is seated in Sana’s lap, being begrudgingly fed tiny bites of cake, while Momo coos and makes airplane noises, seemingly unconcerned that another girl is bouncing on her girlfriend’s knee. Chaeyoung narrows her eyes, both at Dahyun’s obviously feigned objection and Momo’s nonchalance, but says nothing. The sunset paints the cheerleaders in oranges and skips halos across the crowns of their heads. 

Maybe Chaeyoung gets it. Being at this table, seeing these girls, maybe she understands why Tzuyu likes them so much. They’re full of laughter and songs and memories waiting patiently to be made. Chaeyoung wishes that knowing Tzuyu has this kind of support was enough. There’s a petulant monster in her chest that stirs restlessly, and Chaeyoung begs it to be quiet. But it still lashes out, sending fresh pain to join the throbbing in her ribs, and the first bite of cake she shovels into tastes bittersweet.

No matter what thinly-veiled resentment Chaeyoung feels towards the cheerleading team and everything they stand for, she can’t will herself to miss a single game they perform at. Basketball was never exactly her thing—the height requirement holding her back from ever participating too seriously or becoming too invested—but ever since the first game she attended, she’s found something worth sitting through two hours of inadequacy. 

Tzuyu becomes a different person when she cheers. Any anxiety that might have slouched her shoulders is shrugged off entirely, replaced with an energy more electrifying than lightning. Even if Chaeyoung wasn’t in awe every time she looked at Tzuyu, she has to admit that there is something entirely entrancing about the way she cheers. The smile on her face and the spirit with which she moves, it’s enough to make you feel like the entire show is for you. And then Chaeyoung remembers that she’s a pathetic coward and she has to avert her gaze for a second, lest her eyes betray the secret she’s managed to keep from her friend for all these years.

That’s not to say that everything about the basketball games is awful. The crowds can be rowdy and the food is overpriced, but the entire gymnasium buzzes with a hope and a stamina that’s enough to reduce even the toughest of naysayers to rabid fans by the end of the third quarter. There’s a reason why it’s the biggest hotspot for students every time there’s a home game. Even if Chaeyoung is sitting alone in a corner of the bleachers, Dahyun is still taking the time, from within the giant mascot suit, to send her finger guns from across the room. And everytime the cheerleaders take a break, Tzuyu’s eyes find hers and the swell of Chaeyoung’s heart erases everything else in the room. 

Tzuyu has invited Chaeyoung to come sit closer to the action, but she always declines. Though the girls on the team have been perfectly nice to her, even seeming to want to become closer friends after the party, she doesn’t want to press her luck. Sooner or later, they’d realize they don’t want Tzuyu’s dorky little shadow hanging around and that would only make it awkward for Tzuyu to have to pick a side. Far easier for Chaeyoung to make the decision for her before any feelings got hurt. But even still, as the halftime buzzer rings out and the cheerleaders start preparing for their performance, Chaeyoung can’t help herself from wanting to head down there, just for a second, to extend the delusion just a little longer. 

She drags herself through the sea of people in the stands, never taking her eyes off of Tzuyu as she warms up. Just as she manages to stumble her way to the front row and walk slowly, not at all desperately, towards the girls, a member of the basketball team steps forward to talk to Tzuyu. With a bit of immature resentment, Chaeyoung recognizes him.

“Hey, Tzuyu,” says Jackson. Tzuyu looks up at her name, and if she knows that he was the one who bullied her in first grade, she doesn’t show it. In fact, she seems almost delighted to see him. 

“Hi, Jackson,” she responds, pompoms brushing together in a show of what looks to Chaeyoung like bashfulness. It seems like the rest of the girls share the same view, if Mina’s side-eye of their conversation is anything to go by.

“Listen,” Jackson says, looking anywhere but Tzuyu’s face, like he’s trying to find courage. Chaeyoung’s stomach drops to the floor. “I was wondering if you’d like to go out after this. Like on a date.”

Tzuyu gasps, and Chaeyoung’s heart crumples.

The music to signal the start of the halftime performance begins, and over the roaring of the crowd and in her own ears, she can’t hear Tzuyu’s response. The blushing and Tzuyu’s smile speak louder than her words ever could. The pressure building behind her eyes already reaching unbearable levels, Chaeyoung turns away and starts making a beeline for the doors.

She’s just made it to the hallway and can hear the first cheers of the performance starting in the background, when a giant claw reaches out and grabs her shoulder.

“Hey!” Dahyun’s voice echoes from within the suit. She pries off the eagle’s head, revealing her messy hair and worried expression. “Are you okay? Where are you running?”

Chaeyoung refuses to answer. She knows that any word that tries to leave will only emerge as a sob. Shaking her head and blinking furiously, she shoves Dahyun away and leaves her standing in the hall, dumbfounded.

Bursting through the back door of the school, Chaeyoung chokes down the cool, fresh air. Her mind races, so many anxieties broken free at once that she can hardly process them.

How could she have said yes to him? Does she not remember? Does it mean nothing to her?

Obviously, she doesn’t remember anything, you idiot, you were in first grade. The only one who still cares about what happened when you were six years old is you. You’re so stupid to think that moment ever mattered to her as much as it did to you.

But why him? Out of everyone, why did it have to be him?

What, is she supposed to want you? She doesn’t want to be with a coward who can’t even admit their feelings. Why wouldn’t she want to date Jackson? He’s actually changed since first grade, and you clearly haven’t. You’re still pining after your best friend who’s never going to see you in the same way. Honestly, does she even see you as a friend anymore? She has so many better choices. The girls on the cheer team are a better choice. Jackson is a better choice. And you, Son Chaeyoung, will always be the last choice. 

All of the feelings erupting inside her struggle to be released, and Chaeyoung is so frustrated and conflicted, she wants to punch a wall. Turning to do so, through the thin glaze of her tears, she sees that she isn’t alone.

“Well, well, well,” says Mark, flicking away a cigarette . “What do we have here?”

“Quit it with the supervillain act, you ,” Chaeyoung spits, voice full of vitriol and pain.

Mark raises his eyebrows. “Damn, testy. And here I thought we were making good headway in our relationship.” He gets closer and she shrinks away, trying to hide her face, but it proves futile. “Wait, Son, are you about to cry?”

She glowers at him, but his eyes only light up to see the unshed tears in hers. “Oh my god, I can’t believe you’re actually crying. What, did Tzuyu finally find out about your creepy crush on her and kick you to the curb?”

“Shut up,” Chaeyoung murmurs.

“What was that?” Mark asks, sneering.

“I said, shut up!” Chaeyoung shouts in his face and shoves him back.

Mark exhales, scoffing. Then he punches her in the eye.

Chaeyoung stumbles, the world spinning in and out of focus. Mark hits her again, and blood starts pouring out of her nose. Grabbing her by her jacket, he shoves her up against the brick.

“You pathetic dyke,” he shouts, spit flying everywhere. “You don’t talk to me like that! Just wait until I tell Tzuyu about your ing obsession, you’ll wish you’d never been born!”

The doors fly open and through her woozy vision, Chaeyoung can just make out a blur of purple and white. The vibrants colors of the JYP cheer team uniform. She cringes and tries to shrink further against the wall.

“Leave her alone!” Tzuyu demands. Mark just looks between the two girls, confused. And then he bursts out laughing.

“Oh,” he cries, overjoyed, “Oh, this is just too good.”

He lets go of Chaeyoung and she crumples to the ground. Tzuyu rushes over immediately, trying to assess the damage. Chaeyoung weakly bats her hands away, still disoriented. 

Mark is laughing his head off. “I can not believe—”

“ off, Mark,” Tzuyu says bluntly. Chaeyoung looks at her in woozy confusion. She’s never heard Tzuyu curse like that before.

Mark doesn’t seem to take it all that seriously, but he leaves anyway, strutting off towards the parking lot. Tzuyu refocuses all of her attention on Chaeyoung, who is just starting to regain full consciousness. 

“Here, hold this,” Tzuyu presses the sleeve of her cheer jacket to Chaeyoung’s nose, trying to staunch the flow of blood. “I’ll take you to the nurse.”

“No,” Chaeyoung grunts, trying to push her hand away but Tzuyu possesses far more strength at the moment. “No, I’m fine.”

“Chaeyoung, you are clearly not—”

“I said I’m fine!”

Tzuyu flinches, pulling back. Though that was what Chaeyoung intended, it still hurts to see.

“Has this happened before?” Tzuyu asks, eyes searching. 

Chaeyoung refuses to meet her eyes, but the silence that follows is answer enough.

“Oh my gosh, Chaeng, why didn’t you tell me?” she asks, voice laced with something more painful than Mark’s punches.
“It doesn’t matter,” Chaeyoung says, cringing as she tries to stand up. Her vision swims and she has to sit back down. “How did you find me?”

“I tried to look for you after the performance and Dahyun told me she’d seen you running out of the gym in this direction.”

Chaeyoung curses. “I’m going to kill that girl.”

“No, I’m happy that she told me,” Tzuyu insists. “I don’t even want to think about what he might have done to you. I mean, some of the stuff he was saying—”

“Wait, you heard what he said?” Chaeyoung asks, anxiety instantly spiking through her veins.

Tzuyu pauses nervously. “Well, yeah, I mean, I heard some of it, but that doesn’t—”

Chaeyoung curses again, much louder this time. She forces herself to stand, adrenaline and fear numbing the pain. 

“Wait, Chaeyoung-”

“Just leave me alone, okay?” she all but shouts. Her voice is threatening to break and she’s putting all of her strength into keeping it steady. “I don’t need your help!”

She limps off towards the parking lot, trying in vain to stop the bleeding with her wrist. Her eye throbs and her nose stings, but nothing hurts more than knowing that she’s leaving Tzuyu kneeling on the ground, staring at the weeds growing through the concrete and wondering what it was that she did wrong.

Chaeyoung doesn’t see Tzuyu for a week. She bitterly remarks to herself that it isn’t all that different than from before the fight. Tzuyu has all of her incredible friends and Chaeyoung sits alone at lunch. Natural balance is restored. The bitterness is hollow and she finds herself on the brink of tears more often than not. She tells herself that it’s fine and the lie is so pathetic she almost believes herself out of pity.

Mark gets suspended. Chaeyoung certainly didn’t turn him in, but it isn’t hard for her to guess who did. Is she supposed to be thankful? Because she feels a lot of things right now. Embarrassed and angry and selfish and lonely. She’s not sure if there’s room for thankfulness in the bunch. 

She’s stewing on this at her table in the back of the cafeteria when someone sits down across from her. She feels a compulsion to flinch, but it’s controlled by an overwhelming feeling of apathy. 

“Tzuyu thinks you’re mad at her,” Dahyun says matter-of-factly. Chaeyoung sighs.

“I’m not mad,” she says. Dahyun gives a critical raise of her eyebrow. “Well, not mad at her. Not exactly. It’s hard to explain.”

“Would you like to try?” Dahyun asks.

Chaeyoung frowns. “Not really.” Dahyun glares. “Fine. It’s just… do you know what happened?”

“I have a vague idea,” Dahyun leans forward casually on her elbows. “Tzuyu stopped Mark from beating you up and you’ve shown your gratitude by avoiding her ever since.” 

Chaeyoung grimaces at that description of the events, but chooses to move on anyway. “When she found us, Mark was yelling. I know she heard… some things I wasn’t ready for her to hear.”

Dahyun frowns consolingly. “Chaeyoung,” she says softly. “Tzuyu doesn’t care about anything Mark has to say. She doesn’t care that you’re gay.”

“It’s not about me being gay,” Chaeyoung bites. “It’s about me being in love with her for years and hiding my feelings like a coward, only to break my own heart when she says yes to a guy who actually has the courage to ask her out.”

“Wait, Jackson?” Dahyun asks, confused.

“Yeah, who else?”

Dahyun groans. “Tzuyu blew him off after you guys fought. I don’t think she’s spoken to him since. She didn’t even say yes to the date, she was trying to let him down easily.”

Emotion wells up in Chaeyoung that she doesn’t give herself time to process. “Yeah, well, that doesn’t change anything. She still won’t want to be with me. And I can’t face her now that she knows.”

Dahyun sighs. “Listen, I’m not trying to say I know exactly what you’re going through. But I’ve had my own experiences with unrequited love.”

Chaeyoung gives her a side eye, a suspicion itching at the back of her mind. “What do you mean?”

Dahyun bows her head, avoiding eye contact, and mumbles, “Sana.”

“But her and Momo…” Chaeyoung trails off. Dahyun only nods.

Chaeyoung sighs. “Listen, I’m sorry about that, but it’s different with Tzuyu.”

“Why is it different?” Dahyun challenges, regaining some of her intensity.

“It just is, okay?” Chaeyoung raises her voice, passion spilling out of her body in her words. “I can’t explain to you—”

Dahyun shoots upright, looking at something behind Chaeyoung. When Chaeyoung turns around, she finds Tzuyu standing there, holding her lunch tray, blinking owlishly. It reminds Chaeyoung all too much of that stupid basketball game and her fight or flight instincts kick in. Tzuyu tries to stop her, moving to block her path, but Chaeyoung just barrels through her shoulder and keeps going. She hears a shout she thinks comes from Dahyun and the barest whisper that might have come from Tzuyu, but she ignores it all. Their eyes weigh heavily on her back, and when she reaches the hallway and is relieved of them, Chaeyoung breaks into a run. As she sprints, the hallways fade to a blur and Chaeyoung can’t tell if it’s because of her speed or because of the tears slowly rolling down her face. 

The next few days are even worse than before. Chaeyoung avoids the lunch room entirely, which results in her missing a few meals she shouldn’t have. She feels exhausted and empty, drained from running away but too much of a coward to stop. No longer just dodging Tzuyu in the hallways, now she flinches at any swinging ponytail, any bright flash of purple. Her days become cycles of indifference. Without another person to talk to, she turns to the last refuge remaining to her. Her paintings turn out faded and mournful, drenched in nostalgia and grief. It breaks her heart over and over again to look at them, but the art room is the only thing in her life that resembles safety, so there she stays, long after school ends, spreading her melancholy across canvas. 

Chaeyoung is scrubbing the final stubborn flecks of paint from her brushes, and over the splashing water, she doesn’t hear the door to the art room open. 

“I wasn’t sure I’d find you here.”

Chaeyoung flinches. She scrubs at the bristles harder.

“I’m here every Thursday. I got elected club president,” she responds, voice schooled of emotion. Her promotion was irrelevant, seeming hollow in tainted retrospect, but it’s the only thing she can think to say. It’s the easiest explanation. 

“Oh,” Tzuyu says. “That’s awesome, I know how much you wanted that.”

Chaeyoung remains mum.

“I’m happy for you,” Tzuyu tries.

“Thanks.”

Chaeyoung shuts off the water and rather harshly places the brushes in the jar next to the sink, sending them rattling. She picks up a rag and starts wiping down the counters, still avoiding all eye contact. 

Tzuyu brushes her toes against the floor, not moving from her place in the doorway. “Has Mark been bothering you?”

Chaeyoung almost wants to scoff. ‘Bothering.’ Physical abuse for half of a year was more than a ‘bother.’ But somewhere through her jaded mind, she knows Tzuyu doesn’t mean it like that, so she refrains.

“No, he’s stayed out of my way,” she says, directed at the wood grain of the table top she was cleaning. She wipes at it like if only it was clean enough, the room would suddenly be empty and she could be left to her solitary moping.

“That’s great.”

“Yep, great.”

Tzuyu lets out a quiet groan. “Will you stop acting like this?”

Chaeyoung finally breaks, tossing down the rag and looking up from the table. “Acting like what, Tzuyu?”

Tzuyu seems to take this as an invitation, stepping into the room and walking over to where Chaeyoung stands, only for Chaeyoung to turn the other direction, fiddling with a stack of sketches and refusing to meet her eyes once again. 

“Oh my god, acting like that ,” Tzuyu insists. “The silent treatment. Tell me, why will you talk to Dahyun but you won’t talk to me?”

Chaeyoung does scoff this time. “I’m sorry, I didn’t realize I needed to be at your constant beck and call.”

Tzuyu frowns. “That’s not-”

Chaeyoung isn’t done. She sets the sketches down forcefully, scattering them across the table. “The great Chou Tzuyu. Why would I even want to speak to someone else? I should be so honored that she even deigned to talk to me.”

“Hey, don’t say that,” Tzuyu interrupts. Chaeyoung finally turns, and the genuine hurt in Tzuyu’s eyes sends her fumbling for a second. 

“Why shouldn’t I?” Chaeyoung asks, sorrow scratching at the back of . “It’s true.”

Tzuyu’s mouth drops open, lips conceiving words that die on her tongue. Chaeyoung looks off again, gathering up the papers fallen across the counter.

“You’re so beautiful and popular and strong and perfect. And I’m your little friend Chaeyoung, good for a painting and a laugh and not much else. Good at following you around and making you seem that much better in comparison. No wonder you kept me around as long as you did.”

“Chaeng, that’s not,” Tzuyu starts, “I’d never-”

“No, no, of course, you wouldn’t. You’re better than that. You’re better than everything. It was probably the pity then.”

Chaeyoung sniffs, refusing to let herself fall apart right now. Tzuyu reaches out, wanting to touch her or hug her or comfort her in any way she can. But she’s never felt more helpless than in this moment, watching her friend on the brink of tears and feeling like it’s her fault.

“Chaeyoung, that’s not true. You’ve never been that. Not to me,” Tzuyu insists, voice teetering on a narrow precipice between composure and desperation. “You’re the girl who saved me on the playground, the only one I ever wanted at my birthday party. Who I always knew I could lean on, for anything.”

Chaeyoung looks up at Tzuyu’s imploring face and then has to look away, roughly wiping away the tears pooling in the corners of her eyes. 

“Maybe it was like that when we were six, but it’s time to move on. I’m sorry I lashed out at you, I know I’m acting like a , but I’m just sad, okay? You don’t need me anymore. No matter how much I want to, I can’t be that selfish. I’m holding you back. That doesn’t make it right but…” She trails off. Nothing could make this right.

Tzuyu bites her lip, keeping her own tears at bay. “You could never hold me back. I remember that girl from when we were six, and I know, I’ve always known, that you still are her.

“Yeah, well,” Chaeyoung chokes “I wish I remembered that to.” 

“I’ll help you.”

Chaeyoung frowns and turns her head to ask what she meant, only to feel Tzuyu’s hand cup her cheeks and pull her in for a kiss. 

It tastes salty, their combined tears mingling on their lips, yet Chaeyoung has never felt more content. The kiss feels simply right, like they’d done it a million times. Like they’re coming home. 

Chaeyoung pulls back, searching Tzuyu’s eyes for explanation. She is imploring, desperate, confused. Tzuyu wipes the new tears from her cheek. 

“I’m sorry,” Chaeyoung whispers.

“Why are you apologizing?”

“You deserve better.”

“I want you.”

“But,” Chaeyoung searches for words, “how could you…”

“Son Chaeyoung, did you not listen to a single word I said?” Tzuyu grins, red-tinged eyes curling with the smile. “I think you’re incredible. I’ve always thought you were incredible. The time we spend apart feels like someone is pulling my heart out of my chest. It was bad enough that I couldn’t find time to be with you, but then I found out what Mark was doing. I felt sick to my stomach, Chaeng. Like I had failed at protecting you.”

“You don’t need to protect—”

“God, don’t you think I know that? You’ve always been the stronger one between us.” Tzuyu sniffs, rubbing her hands up and down Chaeyoung’s arms. “But maybe I just want to, in the same way you want to protect me. Maybe neither of us has to be the strongest all the time. Okay?”

Chaeyoung bites her lip, reaching out to return Tzuyu’s touch. “I’m still sorry.”

“Stop apologizing,” Tzuyu says. “Just say okay.”

Chaeyoung takes a deep breath and lets the smile she’s been burying unfurl across her face. “Okay.”

After that, Chaeyoung and Tzuyu formed a bond that no one could break. Not bullies, not society, not even cheer practice. It got easier when Chaeyoung became a “squad manager”, which is a fancy way of saying water bottle girl. But the team adored her and Tzuyu would have pouted if they didn’t let her come to practice, so they all let it happen. She got to witness firsthand just how gratuitous Sana and Momo were when it came to PDA, and got to help Dahyun through the bouts of feelings that cropped up every time they did. She didn’t sit alone at lunch anymore; she sat with her seven friends and her girlfriend. Fears of inferiority reared their ugly head every once and awhile, but they’d never been easier to tackle. She felt stronger than ever before.