Jeongyeon
Two days.
Two days since she’d pushed Kaito off the boat, two days of endless water in every direction, and two days of holding onto hope as tightly as they could. But Jeongyeon could feel the strain pulling at her, an exhaustion that went beyond the physical, sinking deep into her mind and soul.
She and Chaeyoung had taken charge of the boat out of necessity rather than choice. None of the others had the energy to take the lead; some of them seemed to barely have the energy to move. Mina, especially, was like a ghost. She hadn’t spoken, hadn’t really looked at anyone, hadn’t reacted to anything. It was like she’d shut down, her mind unable to cope with what had happened.
She looked over at Chaeyoung, who was sitting across from her at the front of the boat, her face shadowed with worry. They’d both tried everything they could to stretch the fuel they had, even scavenging a spare container the day before. Figuring out how to add it had been a challenge—neither of them had the faintest idea how the boat’s engine worked. And yet, here they were, two days later, with every last drop of fuel used up. The boat drifting aimlessly, moved only by the waves, each one nudging them farther away into the unknown.
“Think there’s anything left in there?” Chaeyoung asked, her voice low, though there was an attempt at lightness in her tone.
Jeongyeon snorted, giving the empty fuel canister a nudge with her foot. “Unless it magically refills itself... we’re out.”
The girl sighed, her shoulders slumping as she leaned against the railing. “I keep thinking there’s more,” she muttered, looking out over the water. Her expression turned solemn, her gaze distant. “So... now what?”
She hesitated, glancing back at the others. Most of them were huddled together in a daze, eyes vacant, bodies exhausted. Jihyo was the only one who seemed to have any energy left, moving from girl to girl, checking on each of them, offering words of comfort, even if her own face showed how drained she was.
“We wait,” Jeongyeon replied, tone resigned. “Not like we have much of a choice.”
“Right,” Chaeyoung said, nodding, though she didn’t sound convinced. She ran a hand through her hair, looking down at her feet as she struggled to hold still. “I just... it feels like we’re not doing enough, you know? Like there has to be something else we can do.”
Jeongyeon gave a small, bitter laugh. “Trust me, if there was anything else, I’d be doing it.”
A moment passed, time moving without them noticing, both of them lost in their own thoughts. Jeongyeon’s gaze drifted back to Jihyo, who was sitting beside Mina, murmuring something soft as she tried to coax a response from her. Mina’s face was blank, her gaze fixed somewhere beyond Jihyo, unseeing, unfocused.
“Look at her,” Jeongyeon said quietly, nodding toward Jihyo. “She’s... she hasn’t given up. She’s keeping everyone together, somehow.”
Chaeyoung followed her gaze, her eyes softening as she watched Jihyo. “Yeah... she’s amazing.” She paused, a faint smile tugging at her lips despite everything. “Honestly, if she’d been with us at the front, I think she’d have convinced me to keep the hope alive too.”
Jeongyeon scoffed, though she couldn’t help but smile. “Maybe. She’s stubborn enough.” She shook her head. “I’ve been so focused on trying to keep us moving, I... I don’t even know how to keep hoping right now.”
Chaeyoung nodded, understanding in her eyes. “Same. Maybe that’s why she’s with them,” she murmured, her eyes naturally going back to the huddled girls. “She’s the one who can keep their spirits up. We’re all exhausted, but... at least she can give them that.”
“Do you think she’ll be able to keep it up? She’s only human too.” She whispered.
The girl took a deep breath, Jeongyeon watching as she struggled to keep her balance on the rocking boat, her gaze never leaving Jihyo. “I don’t know. But...If anyone can keep it together for all of us... it’s her.”
Jeongyeon nodded, letting the silence fill the space between them again. She felt a pang of guilt, knowing she hadn’t been there for the others, hadn’t tried as hard as Jihyo to comfort them. But she also knew that she didn’t have that same strength, that it didn’t come as natural to her. She’d tried to focus on the boat, on moving forward, because it was the only way she knew how to cope. Keeping busy was better than facing the fear that gnawed at her, the dread that they might never see land again.
After a while, Chaeyoung broke the silence, her voice barely above a whisper. “Do you think they’re still looking for us? I mean... Us us, not... our bodies at the bottom of the sea. It’s been two days....”
She waited for a moment, unsure of how to answer. “They have to be, right? I mean... Its not that long, they wouldn’t... They’re looking, Chaeyoung. They just haven’t searched the right place.”
Chaeyoung nodded, though her expression remained doubtful. “We’ve drifted so far out... I don’t even know where we are anymore.”
She felt it then, the knot form in her stomach, the fear settling deep within her. She didn’t have answers, didn’t know if anyone even knew where to look, or if they’d simply vanish into the endless ocean, nothing but a ghostly memory.
But as she looked back at Jihyo, still sitting with the rest of the girls, still keeping the group together, she felt a faint flicker of hope—a small, fragile thing, but real nonetheless. As long as Jihyo was here, as long as they had her to guide them, maybe... just maybe, they’d find a way through this.
“She’d tell us not to give up,” Jeongyeon murmured, more to herself than to Chaeyoung. “To keep going, to stay strong... for everyone.”
“Yeah, sounds like her.” She looked at Jeongyeon, a faint smile on her face. “Guess we’ll just have to try and believe it, then.”
Jeongyeon nodded, her gaze returning to the endless horizon, her mind caught between fear and hope, drifting somewhere in the vast space between.
It didn’t take much after that for her stomach to start growling, twisting with hunger, but she knew she wasn’t the only one feeling it. Each day, the rations got smaller, each sip of water more precious. The supplies Jihyo got from Kaito’s boxes had been a lifeline, but they were running out fast. And while she hadn’t told the others, Jeongyeon had hidden some of the food and water on the first day, tucking it away under a seat at the back of the boat. It was a decision that felt both necessary and agonizing—she hated keeping it from them, but if things stretched on longer than expected, she knew they’d need it.
Beside her, Chaeyoung gave a small, approving nod as she watched Jeongyeon slip another water bottle into the hidden stash. It was a sort of understanding between them, a way to prepare without adding to the panic. But no amount of preparation could keep the worry at bay... and the look in the other girls’ eyes told Jeongyeon that they felt it too.
What haunted her most, though, was Mina.
She’d barely touched any of the food since they’d found it, and her water intake had been almost nonexistent. She sat in a daze, eyes unfocused, as if her mind was somewhere far from the boat, somewhere unreachable. Each time Jihyo or Nayeon tried to coax her to eat, to drink, she’d just stare past them, her face empty of expression.
It wasn’t until Chaeyoung knelt down beside the girl, her hand reaching out to touch her shoulder, that Jeongyeon felt the urgency.
“Mina...” Chaeyoung said, her concern obvious. “Can you... can you hear me?”
Mina didn’t respond, her gaze fixed on the horizon, her body as still as a statue. Chaeyoung’s hand lingered on her shoulder, squeezing gently as if to pull her back to the present, to ground her somehow.
“Please, Mina,” Chaeyoung’s voice cracked. “Just... just say something. Anything. We’re all worried about you.”
But Mina didn’t move, didn’t react, and so Jeongyeon felt a surge of determination well up inside her. She couldn’t let Mina drift away like this—she couldn’t let anyone lose their grip—not when they all needed each other, not when there was so little hope left.
Taking a breath, Jeongyeon knelt beside her, her mind reaching back to the moments when she and Mina had practiced managing their anxiety, moments when their busy lives and schedules took the best of them, those quiet sessions of deep breathing, of grounding, of finding anything that helped.
Jeongyeon leaned in close, her voice soft but steady. “Mina... I need you to come back to us, okay?” Her words were gentle, coaxing. “I know it’s hard right now, but I’m right here with you.”
She paused, watching Mina’s vacant expression, and felt a flicker of hope as Mina’s gaze shifted, if only slightly. Chaeyoung glanced at Jeongyeon, her expression pleading, desperate.
She started thinking. Going through the different times they’d both leaned on each other. How Mina would stay with her until the end of her panic attacks, or how she would practice with Mina her exercises to keep present. To keep her from drifting away.
She remembered then. Something they’d tried and had worked before.
“Alright, I want you to try something with me, okay? It’s just a little exercise, you can do it.”
Mina’s eyes remained distant, but Jeongyeon continued, “Okay,” she said, “Tell me five things you can see around us. Anything, no matter how small. Can you do that?”
But mina stayed still, lost somewhere deep within her. She wasn’t moving, wasn’t blinking, she wasn’t even sure the girl was breathing. She looked so... broken.
So she repeated the question again and again, each time getting softer, until it was barely a whisper. “Just five things you can see.”
Mina’s gaze wavered, her eyes finally blinking, and she looked down at the deck of the boat. Her lips parted, her voice so low she almost didn’t hear it. “The… the waves,” she murmured, her tone faint and fragile.
Jeongyeon nodded encouragingly. “Good. What else?”
Mina’s eyes moved slowly over the boat, and she swallowed, her voice trembling as she spoke again. “The… the ropes. The… the edge of the boat.” Her eyes flicked to Jeongyeon’s hand on her arm. “Your hand.”
Jeongyeon’s heart lifted, just a little. “That’s great, Mina. Really great. Now... Four things you can feel.”
Mina hesitated, her hand reaching out to touch the wooden bench beside her, her fingers trailing over it slowly. “The wood... it’s rough,” she whispered, her words coming a bit steadier now.
“That’s good,” she said, her voice as gentle as she could manage. “What else?”
Mina’s hand drifted to her own shoulder, where Chaeyoung’s hand still rested on her other side. “Chaeyoung’s hand,” she murmured, her gaze still unfocused, but her voice a little stronger. “The… the breeze. And... and my towel.”
JShe couldn’t help the faint smile that tugged at her lips, her relief growing as she watched Mina beginning to ground herself. “Perfect. Now three things you can hear.”
There was a pause, and then Mina’s gaze seemed to sharpen, her eyes taking in her surroundings a little more clearly. “The... the waves,” she said, her voice softer. “The boat... creaking. And... your voice.”
“Good, Mina. You’re doing great. Now, two things you can smell.”
Mina blinked, her expression shifting as she seemed to notice the world around her for the first time. “The... the salt,” she said, glancing at the water. Her nose wrinkled slightly as she continued, “And... and the gasoline... I think.”
“Perfect,” she said, her voice filled with warmth. “Last one. Just one thing you can taste.”
Mina hesitated, her eyes drifting to her lips. “Just... just salt,” she whispered.
Jeongyeon gave her an encouraging smile, her voice filled pride. “Just... don’t get lost in your head again. Talk to us.”
Mina blinked a few times, and for the first time in days, her gaze met Jeongyeon’s, a flicker of awareness returning to her eyes. Her lips trembled, a single tear slipping down her cheek as she looked between Jeongyeon and Chaeyoung, the overwhelming weight of her emotions beginning to surface.
“I’m sorry,” she whispered, her voice barely audible but filled with sincerity. “I... I didn’t know how to... how to come back.”
Jeongyeon squeezed her arm. “We’re here, okay? We’re all here.”
She saw chaeyoung let her own tears fall from her eyes, “You scared me so bad Mina,” she gave Mina’s shoulder a soft squeeze only to hug her a minute later.
The three of them just waited there, letting the moment of peace stretch a little longer, their breaths mingling with the rhythm of the waves, the small, fragile sense of connection a steady calm, even in the midst of their fear and exhaustion. The food, the water, the uncertainty—all of it faded for that brief, precious moment as they held onto each other, hoping that somehow, they’d find a way out this.
Sana and Momo took over, both girls reaching out to Mina and finally making her eat something. Jeongyeon and Chaeyoung made their way back to the front of the boat, the open sea stretching endlessly before them, the vastness of it pressing down on their weary minds. The boat was moving with the rhythm of the waves, a slow, almost aimless drift that had become their only path forward. The small sense of control they’d managed to hold onto felt more like an illusion now, but being at the helm gave them something to focus on—something to keep their minds busy, however faint.
She didn’t mean to stare, but the look on Chaeyoung´s face... A mirror of my own, she thought. Dark circles lay heavy under the girls´ eyes, and her shoulders were slumped, her whole frame bearing the weight of too many sleepless nights. Jeongyeon hesitated, then cleared her throat.
“I’ve got it,” she said, “you should try to sleep. I’ll take over for now.”
Chaeyoung shook her head, a small, tired smile pulling at her lips. “I’m okay. I can last a little longer,” she replied, though the faint tremor in her voice betrayed her.
“You sure? You look... you’ve had better days.” She tried easing the mood. Something different from the gloom consuming them.
“Yeah, I’m fine. Besides, you look just as bad,” she added with a weak chuckle, though it lacked her usual spark.
Jeongyeon smiled at that, but the worry didn’t fade from her mind. She’d seen Chaeyoung hold up under pressure before—she was stronger than she often let on, resilient in ways that others didn’t always seem to notice. But she also knew that Chaeyoung had her own way of dealing with stress, her own quiet rituals. And usually, in times like these, Chaeyoung would find comfort in the girls presence—Mina’s presence, the kind of unspoken bond that didn’t need words. But with Mina so lost in herself, that source of strength was missing, and Jeongyeon could see the toll it was taking on Chaeyoung.
She didn’t know what else to do, so she let her eyes wonder, her gaze skimming over the dark, unyielding water, before turning back to Chaeyoung, her voice softer, gentler. “How are you holding up, really?”
The air shifted then, she saw it in the way Chaeyoung gave a quick shrug, brushing off the question as she avoided her eyes. “I’m fine,” she murmured. “I don’t need to... I mean, I don’t really need to talk about it.”
Jeongyeon held back a sigh. She knew Chaeyoung well enough to understand that pushing her wouldn’t help. Chaeyoung was strong and resilient, always holding things in, always taking things on herself without complaint.
She bit her tongue, wanting to say so many things to the girl, that it was okay to let her guard down, that, that she didn’t have to shoulder everything on her own. But she kept the words to herself, sensing that now wasn’t the right time. Instead, she nodded, letting the silence settle between them, nothing left to do but to look away onto the sea.
“If you need anything... you know I’m here, right?” She said, not looking directly at Chaeyoung, giving her the space to respond however she wanted.
Her expression was distant still, her eyes focused on the waves. “Yeah. I know,” she replied, her tone unreadable.
There was quiet around them, only their breaths braking the monotony of the sea. Jeongyeon knew there’d be time later, that eventually, Chaeyoung might open up. But for now, she’d let her keep her walls up, respecting the space her friend needed.
/////////
The girls were huddled under makeshift towel forts now. The sun was relentless, beating down on them with an intensity that had left everyone drained, their skin red from exposure, their bodies sagging with the heat. The towels barely offered any protection, but it was something, a small shield against the heat that seemed to grow worse with each passing hour.
Dahyun and Tzuyu were practically glued to each other’s side, a bond that had formed in the aftermath of everything they’d been through. Jeongyeon could see the way Tzuyu’s hand was clasped tightly in Dahyun’s, both of them holding on as though letting go would mean sinking into the overwhelming fear that lingered just below the surface.
And then there was Jihyo, her voice steady as she spoke to them, her tone filled with a confidence that, even in Jeongyeon’s weary state, felt comforting.
“We’ll find land soon, I promise,” Jihyo said, her voice carrying over the soft hush of the waves. “It’s just a matter of time. We’ve come this far, haven’t we?”
Jeongyeon watched as each of the girls looked at Jihyo, their expressions softening, their eyes reflecting a glimmer of hope. Even Dahyun managed a faint smile, her grip on Tzuyu’s hand loosening just a little as she let Jihyo’s words sink in.
“You were right,” she told Chaeyoung. “If I were under those towels with them, I’d probably believe her too,” she murmured, a hint of admiration in her tone. “Jihyo’s got this thing... she’s a natural, at leading us. Helps us not lose our heads.”
Chaeyoung nodded, a slight smile flickering on her face. “Yeah... she does.”
She could see the truth in Chaeyoung’s eyes—the same truth she’d been grappling with since they’d run out of fuel, since they’d realized just how alone they were out here. The truth was simple and heavy: if they didn’t find land soon, if they weren’t spotted or rescued, they wouldn’t make it.
“Chaeyoung,” she said softly, as if saying it out loud might make it feel less real. “Do you... do you think we’re gonna get out of this?”
Chaeyoung didn’t answer right away, her gaze fixed on the waves. After a long pause, she sighed, her voice steady but drained. “Honestly? I... I don’t know.” She glanced at Jeongyeon, her eyes shadowed. “But... I don’t have the energy to break down right now.”
“You’re stronger than you think, you know that?”
Chaeyoung gave a faint smile, though it didn’t reach her eyes. “Maybe. Or maybe I just don’t have a choice.”
Jeongyeon reached out, giving her shoulder a gentle squeeze. “You don’t have to hold it all in. Not with me. Remember that.”
Chaeyoung nodded, glancing down at her hands, “Thanks, Jeong,”
She made herself more comfortable, shifting slightly until her back rested to the small wall. She could feel her eyelids growing heavier with each passing second, the strain of keeping herself alert finally catching up to her.
“I’m gonna close my eyes for a bit,” she murmured, leaning back and letting her shoulders relax for the first time in what felt like days. “Just... keep an eye out, yeah?”
“Go ahead. I’ll wake you if anything changes.”
Jeongyeon gave her a grateful nod, settling into her spot, her body sinking into the makeshift seat. As her eyes drifted shut, she heard Jihyo’s voice once more, still speaking to the girls, still carrying that note strength that somehow, against all odds, kept them all holding on.
“We’re making it,” Jihyo was saying, her voice gentle but firm. “We’re getting though this. Just hang on a little more.”
With Jihyo’s words lingering in her mind, Jeongyeon let her fatigue take over, her thoughts slipping away as sleep finally claimed her, taking her somewhere else, somewhere far away from the water.
/////////
Jeongyeon blinked, her eyes adjusting to the dim light as she realized someone was leaning over her. It was Nayeon, holding a small plate in one hand, her face shadowed but unmistakably sad—a look that was rare for the usually cheerful girl.
The soft hum of the ocean at night was almost comforting, a quiet lull that masked the vastness of the darkness around them.
“Hey,” Nayeon whispered, holding out the plate as Jeongyeon sat up. “I thought you’d want something to eat.”
Jeongyeon took it, wincing at the small portion of food—a reminder of how little they had left. She looked back at Nayeon, her heart heavy as she took in the uncharacteristic somberness in her friend’s expression. “Thanks... you didn’t have to wake me.”
Nayeon shrugged, bending down to be at the same level as her, sitting closely together. Nayeon reached out, taking Jeongyeon’s hand and bringing it to her lips in a gentle kiss. It was something Nayeon often did, a habit from their years of friendship, but tonight, the gesture felt different—softer, heavier, something that felt like a goodbye and a reassurance all in one.
Jeongyeon watched her, wondering what that kiss meant this time. Was it Nayeon’s way of giving comfort, or a silent plea for the same?
Nayeon shifted a little, adjusting until she settled down beside her, her own plate in hand, and took a small bite, her gaze drifting out to the dark expanse of water. After a long silence, she let out a shaky breath. “It’s strange, isn’t it? How we all trusted so easily. How we just... got on that boat.”
Jeongyeon nodded, a bitter smile tugging at her lips. “Yeah. Guess it feels like... maybe we were a little too reckless.”
Nayeon let out a soft, humorless laugh, shaking her head. “I think that’s putting it lightly, Jeong.” She glanced over at Jeongyeon, a flicker of pain in her eyes. “But they’ll find us, right? They have to. They´re looking right now... right?”
The truth weighed heavy on her, a quiet dread she couldn’t shake. But looking into Nayeon’s hopeful eyes, she found herself nodding, her voice steady. “Yeah. They’re looking. They’re just taking their time.”
Nayeon’s smile grew a little, but it was faint, barely reaching her eyes. She took another small bite, her gaze distant as she continued, her voice soft. “I... I imagine a helicopter flying over, seeing us down here, calling out to us like we’re some miraculous find. I keep telling myself that’s how it’ll happen... that they’ll just appear and we’ll be safe.”
Her heart ached not knowing if the hope Nayeon held so close to her heart was a mercy or not. She wanted to believe it, too. She wanted to cling to that image, that fantasy of rescue, of being found and brought back to safety. But the hours had stretched into days, and the days were becoming a blur of hunger and doubt.
As if sensing her thoughts, Nayeon sighed, glancing down at her plate, her voice even quieter. “It’s just... hard not to think about our families, you know? What they must be going through, not knowing if we’re... if we’re alive or at the bottom of the sea.”
Jeongyeon swallowed, her chest tightening at the thought. She could picture her family’s faces, the worry and heartbreak that must be consuming them. She reached out, her hand finding Nayeon’s, squeezing it. “They’ll know. They’ll know we’re not gone yet. I think... I think they can feel it, somehow.”
Nayeon gave her a sad smile, her fingers entwining with Jeongyeon’s. “I hope so.” She looked down at their joined hands, her thumb brushing gently over Jeongyeon’s knuckles, a softness in her eyes that made Jeongyeon’s heart thump a little harder, a quiet flutter that surfaced every now and then.
The two of them sat there together, each lost in their own thoughts. But Jeongyeon found her gaze drifting back to Nayeon, the girl she’d grown up with, the one who’d always been a constant, a friend, a part of her life as essential as breathing. Sitting here with her, even in the dark uncertainty of it all, Jeongyeon felt a warmth blooming in her chest—a feeling that went beyond friendship, something that tugged at her in ways she hadn’t fully understood. Something that no matter how deep she buried, it always came back and tugged at her heart.
Nayeon glanced over, catching Jeongyeon’s gaze, and her smile softened, her expression gentle. “What are you thinking about?”
Jeongyeon hesitated, caught off guard by the question, by the way Nayeon’s eyes held hers, curious and open. She tried to find the words, but all that came out was, “Just... us, I guess.”
Nayeon tilted her head.“Us?”
She cleared her throat, feeling the warmth creeping up her neck. “Yeah... I mean, we’ve been through so much together. Since we were kids, basically.” She managed a small laugh, though her words were deep and dark. “It’s just strange to think that... we might be ending it all together too.”
Nayeon’s smile faded, her eyes growing soft with sadness as she nodded. “Yeah... I don’t think I’m ready for that either. I don’t know if I can... I don’t want to be the last one standing, if it ever comes to that... id rather be the first to go, you know?”
“I’m not ready... to even let my thoughts go that way.”
Nayeon squeezed her hand again, her fingers warm and steady against Jeongyeon’s. They sat together in silence, the quiet of the night settling around them, their hands joined as they held onto the fragile hope that tomorrow might bring something—anything—to change their fate.
And as Jeongyeon looked at Nayeon, that strange, unnameable feeling in her chest only grew, a gentle, insistent reminder that she wasn’t ready to let go, of her, of anyone.
/////////
The bench didn’t get anymore comfortable, even as she sat there trying to get used to it. She couldn’t help but over the sleeping forms of her friends. The darkness pressed in around them, vast and empty, with no lights to guide them. And she was sick of the waves being the only thing to break the silence. She knew there wasn’t much she could do—keeping watch over an endless expanse of sea in the dark felt almost pointless—but it kept her mind occupied, kept her from sinking into the worry and fear that lurked at the edges of her mind.
She moved to the side of the boat, and in doing so she spotted Chaeyoung curled up beside Mina, her head resting on the girl´s shoulder, her mouth open as soft snores escaped her lips. The sight tugged a small smile from Jeongyeon, a faint warmth breaking through the heaviness that had settled over her. Even here, even in the midst of everything, there was a strange sense of unity that kept them all together.
Her gaze drifted out over the water, the gentle waves lapping against the boat’s side, and she found herself sinking into memories, carried away by the drowning sound of the sea.
She remembered the last time she’d been out on the ocean, the calm of the waves beneath her surfboard, the salty breeze in her hair. It had been a rare day off, and she and Jihyo had decided to escape the city, heading out with a few friends and staff to surf and let go of everything, if only for a few hours. Most of the others had left by late afternoon, heading back to shore, but she and Jihyo had stayed, floating side by side on their boards, the sun beginning to dip below the horizon.
“Peaceful, isn’t it?” Jihyo had said, her voice soft, “Feels like... like we could stay here forever.”
Jeongyeon had nodded, her gaze fixed on the gentle rise and fall of her chest. “Yeah. I could get used to this.”
Jihyo laughed, her voice a warm sound that seemed to melt into the air. “Maybe after we retire, we’ll take up surfing full time. Start a beachside café or something.”
She grinned, the image of a simple life by the ocean, with sand and salt and the sound of the birds, settling into her mind like a secret dream. “A Twice café, huh? I can see it. We’d have to work on our barista skills, though.”
“Hey, I’m a decent barista,” Jihyo had shot back, feigning offense. “I make a mean latte. It’s just... my foam art is a little questionable.”
“Just a little?” Jeongyeon had teased, nudging her friend’s board with her foot. “I’ve seen your hearts. I mean... where they hearts?”
“Hey!” Jihyo splashed her playfully, sending a small wave of water over Jeongyeon’s board. “Fine, maybe my latte art needs some work. But I make up for it in personality.”
They’d laughed, the sound carrying over the water, a carefree lightness filling the space between them. For a moment, the weight of their schedules, the demands of their lives, all of it felt far away.
Jihyo had grown quiet then, a thoughtful look in her eyes as she gazed out over the horizon. “Do you ever think about what’s next for us? After all of this?”
“You mean... after the group?”
Jihyo nodded, her expression soft, almost wistful. “Yeah. It’s weird to think about, isn’t it? We’ve spent so much of our lives together, so much time focused on this one thing... Sometimes, I can’t imagine anything else. But then... sometimes, I wonder what it would be like to just be Jeongyeon and Jihyo, you know? Just... us, without everything else.”
There was a strange feeling a strange at Jihyo’s words. A vulnerability there, an openness that felt rare, even between them. So she chose her words carefully. “Yeah, I get it. I think... sometimes, I feel like I’m always on stage, even when we’re not performing. But here... out here, it’s like none of that matters. It’s just us.”
Jihyo’s gaze had lingered on her, a small smile playing at her lips, her eyes soft and filled with something Jeongyeon couldn’t quite place. “I’m glad we’re here together, Jeong. Feels... right, somehow.”
They let themselves drift with the water then, comfortable and warm, the unspoken words settling into the space between their boards. Jeongyeon had felt a spark in her chest, something quiet but insistent, a feeling she couldn’t quite put into words. She’d known, in that moment, that it was something she’d keep to herself—a small, secret thing that felt almost too fragile to share.
As the sun had dipped below the horizon, painting the sky in hues of pink and gold, they’d drifted, side by side, the rest of the world far away, left behind on the shore.
The memory faded as Jeongyeon blinked, the soft light of dawn beginning to break over the horizon, casting a faint warmth over the boat. She let out a slow breath, the cool air filling her lungs, grounding her as she brought herself back to the present. The sea stretched endlessly around them, but the warmth of the rising sun seemed to ease the chill that had settled into her bones during the night.
She glanced around the boat, taking in the sight of her friends still asleep, their faces softened in the early morning light. Even here, even in the middle of the vast, uncharted ocean, there was a quiet, fragile beauty that wrapped around them, binding them together.
The soft light of dawn cast a golden glow over the boat as the girls began to stir, each of them blinking awake, stretching limbs stiff from a night on the hard deck. Chaeyoung, the last to rise, rubbed her eyes with a groggy sigh, clearly still weighed down by exhaustion.
As Jeongyeon watched them all wake, she saw the subtle change in their faces, the shadow of fear creeping back in as they looked around. This was their third day adrift.
Three days and still nothing.
It felt heavy even to breathe. To understand how long it had been, and the chances of getting found now. Still, jihyo took charge like she always did, her voice a desperate plea, yet still a command for them to follow. “We’ll figure something out, okay? We just need to keep our heads straight.”
Nayeon nodded, her own eyes were clouded with worry. “Yeah... yeah, we’ll figure something out..”
Her body ached with sorrow more than actual strain. Even as she paced through the boat to ease her mind... it hurt. It hurt to look at their faces knowing—
“Wait! Look, over there!” Tzuyu gasped as she pointed at something behind Jeongyeon.
Her heart skipped a beat as she turned, following Tzuyu’s finger. Her breath caught as she spotted it, land. Just a faint outline in the distance, but unmistakable. Her eyes widened, and she felt a surge of hope bloom in her chest.
“Land,” she whispered, her voice trembling with disbelief. “Land!”
The others quickly turned, gasps of relief and joy breaking out as they stared at the small, blessed piece of earth on the horizon. It was as if the strain of the past few days vanished, their fear replaced by a spark of life.
“Oh my God,” Dahyun murmured, a shaky smile breaking through her frown. “We’re... we’re going to make it.”
Jihyo clasped her hands together, her eyes filling with tears. “I told you,” she said, a slight laugh escaping her. “I told you we’d do it.”
They all laughed, a sound full of relief and disbelief, the kind of laughter that only comes after surviving something impossible. Even Mina cracked a smile, her first since the incident, her eyes glistening with tears, but not of sadness this time.
But then, as quickly as the joy had arrived, a creeping realization settled over her. The boat wasn’t moving toward the island—in fact, it was drifting in the opposite direction, pulled away by the waves. Jeongyeon’s heart sank as she watched the faint outline of land begin to blur, the distance growing as their boat veered away.
“No, no, no,” Nayeon murmured, realizing the same thing as her. “Why... why are we moving away?”
Chaeyoung frowned. “The waves... The current, they’re pulling us back.”
The island was so close, a lifeline they so desperately needed, but they could see it slipping farther and farther from reach.
Jeongyeon clenched her jaw, determination hardening her eyes. “If the boat isn’t getting us there, then we’ll swim.”
Nayeon turned to her in fear. “Swim? Jeong... I can barely see it. Do you know haw far away that is? We don’t even know what’s in the water.”
“We can’t just let it slip away. That island is the only shot we have... Look, I know we’re tired, but we’re doing this. There’s no choice.”
“She’s right.” Jihyo said. “We do this together, okay? We swim together, and we keep each other safe. No one stays behind.”
Dahyun glanced at the water, swallowing hard as she look at Tzuyus face. “What if... if we get separated? Or too tired to continue? We don’t have any—”
Chaeyoung reached out, placing a hand on Dahyun’s shoulder. “We can’t waste time like this. We have to go. Now. If we lose sight of it...we’re done.”
“Grab anything that floats,” she said, her voice clear and steady. “Suitcases, bags, anything we can hold onto if we get tired.”
The girls moved quickly, each of them fueled by the urgency of the moment, their eyes darting between the distant island and the limited supplies around them. Jeongyeon scanned the boat, assessing what they had, what could help them both in the water and, if they made it, once they reached the shore.
“We need to bring as much as we can,” Jihyo said, as she moved around the boat. “We don’t know what’s waiting for us over there, or if there’s anything to survive on.”
Nayeon nodded, gathering the few wooden boxes and bags they had. “If we can use it to float, we can use it on the island.”
They each began grabbing what they could. Tzuyu found a couple of empty containers that could hold some of their supplies, while Dahyun secured a wooden box to help keep it all afloat. Mina took the life vests they had, passing them around to the girls that needed them.
Jeongyeon nodded, looking over her shoulder at them. “We can’t take everything. Just grab what you can, we have to move now.”
The girls continued, each of them choosing items, thinking of what could help them once they reached land. They worked in silence, moving as fast as their feet and the fatigue let them.
It took them less than a minute to get everything ready, and as they finished, they stood together by the side. Hand in hand. Not letting go until the last moment they needed to. Jeongyeon took one last look at the boat behind her, her grip tightening briefly before she released it. She took a deep breath, her chest rising and falling as she prepared herself for what awaited her in the water.
The distant island waited like a promise on the horizon. Its edges blurred by the growing sea. She didn’t know what awaited them there, how they’d survive. But they’d face it. They had no choice but to face it—whatever it takes.