Dahyun
The soft crash of the waves broke through the quiet morning, stirring Dahyun from a restless sleep. Her body ached from the unforgiving stone beneath her, the jagged cave wall digging into her back through the thin layer of her shirt. Every muscle protested as she shifted slightly, a soreness settling deep into her bones, unfamiliar and unrelenting. She bit back a groan, her throat dry and scratchy from the stale air of the cave.
Dahyun blinked against the faint light filtering in through the cave’s entrance. Her chest tightened as the weight of their reality settled in again, sharper now in the clarity of morning. This wasn’t a nightmare she could wake up from. It was real. All of it. The salty air, the damp chill clinging to her skin, the faint echo of waves—they were constants now, something she couldn’t escape.
Most of the girls were already gone, their sleeping spots empty, save for Tzuyu, who was still curled up between Dahyun’s legs. Her head rested against Dahyun’s shoulder, her face soft in sleep. Dahyun froze, torn between the need to move and the worry of waking her friend. They’d all been so quiet the night before, but Tzuyu worried her the most. Her usual calm demeanor transformed into something even more quiet, more unsettling... Dahyun had stayed close, hoping her presence might offer some comfort to the girl.
Carefully, she shifted her arm, trying to ease the stiffness without disturbing her much. But the slight movement was enough to rouse her. Tzuyu stirred, her eyelashes fluttering as her eyes opened slowly, still hazy with sleep.
“Hey,” Dahyun whispered, her voice hoarse but gentle.
Tzuyu blinked, her gaze flying around the cave as though she needed a moment to remember where they were. “Morning.”
They just stayed like that—in silence— for a moment longer, the rhythm of their breathing syncing without meaning to. Dahyun let her head rest lightly against Tzuyu’s shoulder, her mind too heavy to fight the gesture.
The past few days had been grueling for all of them, but for Tzuyu, there was a weight Dahyun couldn’t ignore. It lingered in the way she retreated into herself, her silence stretching longer, her gaze distant. Dahyun didn’t need words to see it—she got used to figuring out Tzuyu her own way— the struggles Tzuyu didn’t always let on. Dahyun’s own chest ached at the thought, a fierce protectiveness rising in her, familiar but sharper now.
She tried thinking of the last time she was alone with the girl, just the two of them, when a memory surfaced, unprompted but welcome: a week before their trip to Japan, the quiet night she and Tzuyu had celebrated her birthday together. Dahyun had seen a glimpse of vulnerability then, Tzuyu letting down her walls in a way she rarely did. That memory now felt like a hazy dream, tying them to a world that felt impossibly far away.
She closed her eyes, letting herself hold onto it if only for a moment longer. The warmth of that night, the laughter they’d shared, the promises they’d made for their future. It felt distant now, a faint echo of a life she wasn’t sure... they’d ever return to.
It had been just the two of them, as Tzuyu had requested—no fanfare, no big gatherings. She’d said she wanted something meaningful, something calm, away from the usual noise of their lives. Dahyun had smiled at the idea and taken her to a small painting studio, a cozy, private space tucked away in a quiet part of town. Tzuyu had lit up when they arrived, the soft hum of excitement shining in her usually concealedd eyes.
“I’m starting to think painting might not be my thing,” Dahyun teased, staring at the blob of color she’d unintentionally created. “Singing? Sure. But this?” She gestured dramatically at her canvas, making Tzuyu chuckle.
“It’s not so bad,” Tzuyu replied, tilting her head to study Dahyun’s work. Her own painting was coming along better, her strokes more purposeful. “Maybe it’s... abstract. Or modern.”
“You’re just being nice,” Dahyun said, grinning as she flicked a small bit of paint in Tzuyu’s direction, the speck landing harmlessly on her sleeve.
“Hey! It’s my birthday!” Without missing a beat, she flicked her own brush in Dahyun’s direction. “Now we’re even.” She said choking out a laugh, the huge string covering half of Dahyun´s cheek.
They both continued their mock paint fight, laughing and just enjoying the moment, and for a while, the world outside faded away. It was just the two of them, the quiet studio, and the simple joy of their silliness.
But eventually, the playful energy softened, and they returned to their work, the room turning quiet again. Dahyun glanced over at her, noticing the small frown, the slight curve of her lips as she worked. There was a steadiness to Tzuyu in these moments, a calm that felt rare and precious.
“Thank you for this,” Tzuyu said suddenly, her voice breaking the silence. She set her brush down and turned to Dahyun, a soft smile on her face. “This... it’s exactly what I needed.”
Dahyun felt her chest swell with warmth, her own smile matching Tzuyu’s. “Anytime, Tzu. You deserve a night like this.”
Tzuyu hesitated, her fingers lightly tracing the edge of her canvas. Her eyes dropped for a moment. “Do you remember last year? When I told you I was trying to understand myself better?”
The shift in tone made her pause, she set her own brush aside. “I remember. You said you were looking into things... trying to figure out, to understand what made you feel a little different.” She leaned forward slightly, her voice gentle. “I told you to go for it, to do what you needed to.”
Tzuyu nodded slowly, her lips pressing together before she let out a small, steadying breath. “I... I went to a specialist,” she said, her voice soft. “I wanted to know... and I thought, maybe if I knew, it would make more sense in my head.”
She reached out, resting her own hand on Tzuyu´s, ”And?”
Tzuyu let out a breath, “And... they told me I’m on the spectrum. Autism. Mild, they said, but it’s there.”
Her heart tightened, not out of worry, but at the vulnerability in Tzuyu’s voice. “Tzu... I... Thank you for telling me. And that doesn’t change anything, you know. You’re still you, and you’re amazing, exactly as you are.”
Tzuyu let out a shaky breath, a small, almost shy smile breaking through. “I knew you’d understand. I just... I wanted to share that part of me with you. I wanted you to know... I’m not ready to tell the others, I will, but not right now. I wanted you to be the first.”
“Whenever you’re ready, I’ll be here. And if there’s anything you need, anything at all, just tell me. I’ve got your back, Tzu. Always. I´m honored that you shared this with me.””
Tzuyu’s smile grew, soft but genuine, and she nodded. “Thank you. For this, and for... everything.”
The memory faded, and Dahyun found herself back in the cave, her heart heavy with the thought of everything Tzuyu was now facing. This ordeal would be hard on all of them, but for Tzuyu—it was a different kind of challenge. And Dahyun knew, now more than ever, that she needed to be there for her friend, to be whatever kind of support Tzuyu needed.
She glanced down at Tzuyu, who was fully awake now, her dark eyes blinking up at her with curiosity. Tzuyu’s back rested against Dahyun’s front, and she shifted slightly, the movement pulling Dahyun forward just a little.
“Morning,” Dahyun said, brushing a few stains from tzuyu´s cheek, her mind going back to that memory, her finger lingering for a bit. “Did you sleep well?”
Tzuyu gave a small shrug, her head tilting back slightly as she thought about it. “It was... okay,” her voice a little raspy from sleep. Her gaze shifted to the cave entrance, where faint light filtered in and the sounds of the others moving around could be heard. Dahyun noticed the way Tzuyu’s hand tightened, a habit of hers.
“How are you?” Tzuyu asked, turning her head just enough to glance up at Dahyun.
Dahyun’s smile softened, teasing. “Sore, stiff, and still not sure if I’ll ever be able to sleep on a cave floor without feeling like I’m a hundred years old,” she joked lightly. Then, more seriously, she added, “But I’m okay. More worried about you.”
Tzuyu didn’t respond right away, but her lips curved into a faint smile, one that felt more like an unspoken “thank you” than anything else. She shifted again, this time moving her legs and leaning forward as if testing the stiffness in her own body. The motion tugged Dahyun with her, their balance gone for a moment before Dahyun adjusted, laughing softly.
“What are you...” Dahyun said, steadying them both with her arms around Tzuyu’s waist. “Where are you going?”
“Up,” Tzuyu replied as she started to rise, pulling Dahyun forward in the process. “We should go... see what the others are doing.”
Dahyun followed without hesitation, keeping close as Tzuyu stood and stretched.
“You don’t have to rush,” Dahyun said, “I don’t want you feeling pressured by the others.”
Tzuyu turned to look at her, and for a moment, Dahyun wondered if she’d said too much, “Thanks,” Tzuyu murmured, “Don’t worry about me. I’m okay.”
She didn’t say anything else. There was trust between them, and she planned to honor that. She trusted Tzuyu would come up to her if she ever needed to.
They stepped out of the cave, Dahyun shielded her eyes, blinking against the brightness, her thoughts turning inward as they made their way to the others. She felt the weight of it all—the loss, the uncertainty, the slow, creeping exhaustion that settled into her bones. But having Tzuyu beside her grounded her, gave her a purpose beyond herself.
She’d cried enough on the boat, grieving in a way she’d never had to before. She’d mourned her family, her home, her life… all the things that now felt so distant. But here, with Tzuyu by her side, there was something to focus on, someone who needed her. That responsibility kept her steady, helped her hold back the tidal wave of emotions threatening to pull her under.
As they walked she noticed Jeongyeon and Momo carrying Jihyo again, the girl’s face pinched in pain, her injured leg carefully supported between them. Every few steps, Jihyo would stifle a cry, her hands gripping Jeongyeon and Momo’s shoulders as they did their best to keep her steady. Dahyun’s heart ached with each muffled scream, her own worry deepening with every pained expression on Jihyo’s face.
How much longer could Jihyo bear this? The wound was bad, and they had no real way to treat it, no proper medicine, no way to guarantee it wouldn’t get worse.
They gently lowered Jihyo onto the sand, careful not to jostle her leg. Jihyo winced, her face pale and slick with sweat, but she gave them a small, grateful nod.
“Thanks,” she whispered, her voice strained.
“You holding up okay?”
Jihyo managed a tight smile, “As okay as I can be, I guess. Just... don’t ask me to run a marathon.”
Momo let out a bitter laugh. “Yeah, I think we’re all past the marathon stage.” She looked around, taking in the faces of her friends, each one drawn with exhaustion and worry.
Dahyun sat cross-legged a few feet from Jihyo, her eyes drifting toward the ocean. The gentle crash of waves on the shore was soothing in a way, but it did little to ease the knot of anxiety coiled tightly in her chest.
The group stayed like that for a while, scattered and quiet, their gazes alternating between the open water and the dense treeline behind them. Dahyun’s thoughts raced with every minute that passed. What if they’d stopped looking? What if they really were on their own?
She glanced at Nayeon, who sat with her knees pulled to her chest, her chin resting on them, her usually vibrant self subdued. Sana traced aimless patterns in the sand with her finger, her head bowed low. Tzuyu’s eyes were fixed on the horizon, her expression unreadable, but her hand twitched every so often, her fingers curling into her palm before relaxing again.
And the rest... they were just as lost.
Dahyun felt it in the pit of her stomach, a gnawing fear that made her shift uncomfortably where she sat. She wanted to say something, anything, to fill the silence, but the words wouldn’t come.
Every now and then, one of them would glance toward the sky, scanning the clouds for the faintest hint of a plane or a helicopter. But there was nothing. Just the endless blue stretching far and wide, mocking their hope with its vastness. Dahyun’s fingers dug deeper into the sand, her nails scraping against the grains as she fought to keep her composure.
Finally, after what felt like an eternity, Nayeon broke the silence. “So... we’re stuck here until someone finds us... We need a plan. We can’t just wait around and hope for the best.”
Tzuyu nodded, her gaze distant as she spoke. “I’m tired of waiting too. Maybe if we do something... we won’t feel so hopeless.”
Dahyun glanced at Tzuyu, her heart swelling with pride. The younger girl’s voice was soft, almost hesitant, but there was a strength in her words, a resolve that reassured her.
Jeongyeon nodded, her gaze steady. “Right. I think we should divide up responsibilities. We’ll need to make sure we have enough water and food, so maybe some of us can look around for anything edible—plants, fruits, anything.”
Sana chimed in, “The water... we need a fresh source. Maybe there’s a stream or something further inland?”
Momo frowned, glancing around at the expanse of trees in the distance. “I don’t know how I feel about going inland. We don’t know what’s out there. We could get lost.”
Jihyo nodded, her expression serious as she returned to that leading role. “Then we stay close for now. Take it in turns to explore, see if there’s anything nearby that could help us. But no one goes alone, we go in groups... keep each other safe. We can’t risk losing anyone.”
It wasn’t much, but it was something—a small way to give them purpose, to keep them moving forward.
“I’m going inland,” Jeongyeon said, standing with her arms crossed. She glanced at the treeline, her eyes narrowing as if already mapping out a route. “We need to see what’s out there—plants, trees, anything we can use. Water, too, if we’re lucky.”
Dahyun nodded, recognizing the logic. She moved with the kind of calm purpose that made Dahyun feel a little steadier just watching her. If anyone could handle the risks of going inland, it was Jeongyeon.
“I’ll go too,” Tzuyu said surprising them all, shifting her weight from one foot to the other. Her arms hung at her sides, but her hands flexed slightly, betraying her nerves. “I can’t... I don’t want to sit here anymore.”
“Good. The more eyes, the better.”
Chaeyoung started tying her hair back into a small, messy bun, getting ready to explore. “I’ll join. I know enough about plants to spot anything edible, and... I’m curious about what’s out there.” She adjusted the hair tie, her fingers brushing over the loose strands before stepping closer to Jeongyeon and Tzuyu. “Guess that makes us the exploration team.”
Dahyun managed to smile her way. “Just... keep track of where you’re going. We need you back in one piece.”
“We won’t go too far. And if we find anything to help with shelter we’ll bring it back.”
She shifted her focus, her mind moving to the next task, to find herself useful. “I can head up the team that goes out to fish—or at least tries to. We’ve got to make the rations last longer.”
She glanced around, her eyes landing on the group. Sana was brushing sand off her legs, standing up with a confident shrug. “I’ll go with you,” she said. “I’m a decent swimmer.”
Dahyun gave her a grateful nod.
Momo crouched down brushing sand off her knees. “I hate the water,” she said and Dahyun noticed how her shirt—ripped the day before for the bandages— rises with the movement revealing faint scratches along her ribs, yet Momo dint seem to notice, or she simply didn’t care. “But I hate the idea of going inland even more. And I can’t just sit here and do nothing. I need to move.”
Dahyun nodded again, her tone reassuring. “We won’t push you Momo, you can stay by the shore... we’ll keep it simple.”
“Alright. That’s Team Exploration and Team Fishing sorted.” Jeongyeon’s gaze flicked between the two groups, her sharp eyes calculating.
Jihyo shifted where she was seated, her face twisting in pain as she adjusted her position. Her hands gripped the sand tightly, her knuckles pale from the effort. “Well, I can’t move, so...,” she said through gritted teeth. “I’ll keep an eye on things from here, help make signs in the sand in case any planes or helicopters pass by. Maybe even a fire, if you guys bring us some branches.”
The frustration in Jihyo’s expression was evident, her jaw tightening as she glanced at her injured leg. Dahyun stood next to her, her hand on her shoulder, “Don’t beat yourself up. You’re doing enough already.”
Jihyo’s lips pressed into a thin line, her fingers loosening their grip. Her eyes flickered with pain, but there was also her stubborn determination there. “I just hate feeling so useless,” she muttered, her voice barely above a whisper.
Beside her, Mina sat with her arms wrapped tightly around herself, her nails digging lightly into her arms. The sight sent a pang of worry through Dahyun—it wasn’t just Mina’s silence that unsettled her, but the way she seemed to fold into herself, as though trying to disappear. She reached out instinctively, her hand hovering near Mina’s shoulder before pulling back, unsure if the touch would help or make things worse.
“Stop it, Jihyo. You’ve done plenty.” Nayeon said, stepping closer. She knelt down meeting Jihyo’s gaze with a steady look. “We would have lost it without you, so stop. And if it make you feel any better... I’ll stay here, too. Help with the signs and make the shelter. Keep an eye on Mina and you... but don’t worry, I´ll let you take the lead.” She tried to joke around, to lift jihyo´s spirit up.
“Fine,” Jihyo said, her tone firm from her spot in the sand. She looked between them, her eyes sharp and assessing. “Three teams: Exploration, Fishing, and Shore. We keep things safe, and we don’t take any chances.”
“We’ll stay close, just see what we can find.”
Chaeyoung tied the side of her shirt so it wouldn’t flap around, “Guess we all know what to do,” she said, her voice subdued but focused. “Let’s... just get through today.”
Dahyun’s gaze lingered on Mina for a moment longer before shifting to the others. Her friends’ faces were worn, lined with exhaustion and worry, but there was still something holding them together, something that she hoped reached Mina too.
Her eyes moved, darting out to each of her friends eyes, lingering there for a moment, “We’ll be okay.”
That was all she could say. All she could offer to them.
/////////
Dahyun watched as the first team disappeared into the trees. They’d left with just a single bottle of water between them and a protein bar they’d have to share. It wasn’t much, but they’d agreed to stay close today. There was no sense in taking bigger risks than necessary.
As their forms vanished into the dense foliage, Dahyun felt a pang of unease but pushed it aside. She had her own task to focus on.
“This way,” she said, glancing at Sana and Momo. They moved off the shore, stepping beneath the palm trees to start their search for sticks. They’d need a few sturdy ones to use as spears and some thinner ones for starting a fire.
The three of them spread out, each scanning the ground. Dahyun picked up a stick and tested its strength, bending it slightly before tossing it aside when it snapped too easily. As she worked, she noticed Momo a few feet away, her hands shaking slightly, her eyes darting nervously between the forest and the shoreline.
“Hey, you doing okay?”
Momo nodded quickly, but her stiff posture betrayed her nerves. “I’m fine. Just... thinking about the water. I know I said I’d go, but now that we have to... it’s...” She trailed off, her shoulders hunching slightly.
“It’s gonna be okay,” Dahyun said. “We’re not going far. Knee-deep at most. I’ll be there the whole time.”
“Its just... I remember the water down my throat, the sting in—“
“We don’t even have to go deep to find the fish. They were right by the shore when we came in, remember? You probably won’t even notice the water. And you can use one of the life vest we have.”
Momo took a shaky breath, her lips pressing into a thin line before she gave a small nod. “Yeah, sorry... It’s just... Thanks, Dahyun.”
“We’ve got each other,” Dahyun replied, giving her shoulder a reassuring squeeze. “We’ll be fine.”
Before Momo could respond, Sana’s voice broke through. “Found a few decent ones over here,” she said, crouched down and brushing sand off a pile of sticks. Her hair fell across her face, and she tucked it back roughly, her movements a little too sharp. Dahyun glanced her way, noticing the tightness in Sana’s jaw and the way her hands gripped the sticks like they were the only thing keeping her grounded.
Dahyun moved closer, leaving Momo to sort through her emotions, to sort through their collection. “You good?” she asked, feeling the need to comfort anyone that needed it.
Sana straightened up, forcing a quick smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes. “Yeah. Just... focused. These sticks aren’t going to gather themselves, right?” Her laugh was soft, almost too light.
She didn’t push, but she stayed close as they carried their collection back to a flat rock. each of them crouching down and taking a stone to try and sharpen the ends into spears.
“This is actually working,” Sana said, a small note of surprise in her voice as she examined the point of her stick.
Dahyun nodded, grinning as she continued sharpening her own. “Nayeon suggested it... said she’d seen something like this in a survival show.”
Momo let out a laugh, her eyes brightening a bit. “Trust Nayeon to come up with a solution from reality TV.”
They laughed, but with time it faded, each of them focused on the task at hand. Dahyun was almost finished with her spear when she glanced at Sana. She noticed her friend’s head was down, her hands trembling slightly as she worked. And then Dahyun saw it—silent tears slipping down Sana’s cheeks, glinting in the morning light.
Without thinking, she reached over and took Sana’s hand, giving it a reassuring squeeze. Sana looked up, startled, and Dahyun offered her a small smile, lifting her friend’s hand to her lips and pressing a soft, gentle kiss to it.
“I’m here,” Dahyun voice was so low it was barely a whisper. “Whatever you’re feeling... it’s okay. I’m right here.”
Sana blinked, her gaze meeting Dahyun’s, she wiped her cheeks with her free hand, a shaky smile breaking through. “Thanks, Dahyun. I just... it’s hard to hold it all in.”
“And you don’t have to,” she said, getting closer to the girl to hold her, “I’m here. We’re all here.”
“I just... I don’t know how much more I can take. It feels like we’re all barely hanging on, and I... I don’t know what I’m supposed to do to make it better.”
Dahyun held her tight, not letting go of the embrace, watching as Momo got closer to lean her head against Sana’s. They stayed like that for a while, letting the warmth of each other’s presence offer a small comfort against the weight of the world they lived in now.
The sound of the waves.... the faint rustle of the wind.... It all filled the silence, it grounded them, steadied their worries.
Finally, Sana took a deep breath, her trembling stoping. She pulled back slightly, her gaze steadier now, “I’m okay,” she said, her voice soft but firm. “ I’m okay now... we’ve got work to do.” she said with a sad smile tugging at her lips.
Dahyun gave Sana’s hand one last squeeze before letting go to return to their work, the moment of vulnerability still lingering but it was now replaced with a new kind of determination. To keep going even if they broke apart, to pick up the pieces and just... survive.
/////////
Dahyun took a deep breath, examining the rough weapon in her hands.
“Well, guess it’s as ready as it’s gonna be,” she said, trying to keep her voice steady. “Let’s see if we can find anything out there.”
They walked their way back to the shore, taking the rougher stick they found with them to give to Nayeon—who bragged about being a girl scout briefly— to make a fire. They moved closer to the sea, the sand cool underfoot, and Dahyun glanced over at Nayeon, who waved encouragingly from her spot next to Jihyo.
“You’ve got this!” Nayeon called out, her hands by her mouth to make the sound louder, “Just... don’t scare the fish away!”
Dahyun laughed and saluted her way. “We’ll do our best!”
They waded into the shallow water, the chill of it biting at their skin as they adjusted to the feeling. Dahyun moved carefully, trying to keep her steps slow and gentle, not wanting to stir up too much sand and scare off their potential catch. She looked over at Momo, who had one of the vests on, her face tight with concentration, her knuckles white as she gripped her spear.
“See?” Dahyun said, her voice low and soothing. “Not so bad, right?”
Momo gave a small nod, her face still tense but showing a hint of relief. “Yeah.. it’s not so deep.”
Sana didn’t seem to have any problem in the water, her eyes narrowed as she scanned for any signs of movement. The three of them moved in silence, the only sound the gentle splash of water around their legs.
They waited, each of them at ease, watching for a sign, a flash of movement beneath the surface. The quiet was calming, but the weight of their task settled over them as they realized just how much depended on their success.
Dahyun tightened her grip, the rough wood pressing into her palms. She thought of their empty stomachs, the spare supplies back on the sand, the desperation in each of their eyes. And she knew, with a strange certainty, that they couldn’t afford to fail.
/////////
The sun beat down relentlessly, its heat searing into Dahyun’s skin as she squinted against the brightness. She could feel it prickling her arms and neck, the warmth becoming less pleasant and more like a burn with each passing minute. She glanced at Sana, who had a similar look of discomfort on her face.
“Hey, Sana,” Dahyun murmured, “Did we find any sunblock yesterday? We’re getting cooked out here.”
Sana winced as she rubbed her arms. “There were only two bottles left. They’re small, though. I didn’t want to grab them just for us, but... we definitively need some.”
She sighted. “Let’s take a break, then. We can go check in with Jihyo’s team... see what they think.”
They made their way back to the beach, the sand now hot beneath their feet as they left the water. Momo followed, her expression still focused, despite her frustration at not having caught anything yet. She’d come close a couple of times, the fish slipping through her reach at the last moment, but her determination hadn’t faltered.
She noticed Nayeon hunched over a small pile of sticks, rubbing two of them together, trying to coax a spark. They settled down beside Jihyo, who offered them a weary smile, her face lined with pain as she kept her leg stretched out to avoid worsening her wound.
She could feel Jihyo’s eyes as they narrowed slightly over them, noticing how bad their exposed skin looked. “You’re all red,” Jihyo pointed out, concern in her voice. “We can’t afford sun poisoning on top of everything else.”
“Yeah... I didn’t think it would get this bad so fast... I was hoping we could grab some sunblock. Just for today.”
Jihyo started going through the pile of stuff they had. It was conveniently behind her. “We don’t have enough to go around for everyone.” She kept on looking, cautious not to move her knee, “So, I’m kind of saving it for when were really desperate.”
Nayeon looked up from her sticks, pausing in her attempt to make fire. “How much do we have left, Jihyo?”
“Two bottles. Small.” Jihyo replied, her tone practical but worried. “We need to prioritize. Jeong´s team has shade from the trees, and we,” she pointed at the three of them, “Will hopefully have a shelter by tomorrow. The fishing team... you guys are the ones out in the sun all day.”
Dahyun noticed Jihyo as she grabbed the bottles. She extended one to Dahyun, wincing slightly as she shifted. “Take this. Use it, but try to keep it minimal. It has to last. We have nothing else.”
Dahyun took the bottle, “We’ll go easy on it. Just... enough to get us through the day.”
“Thanks, Ji.”
Nayeon, still holding her fire-starting sticks, gave her a small smirk. “You hear that? Use it sparingly. I don’t want to see you all covered up like you’re on a beach vacation.”
Momo let out a dry chuckle, rolling her eyes. “Yeah, because this definitely feels like a vacation,” she muttered, but her tone still held a faint trace of humor. “We’ll save that for when were rescued.”
Sana took the bottle from Dahyun, her expression grateful as she squeezed a tiny bit onto her hands, just enough to cover her arms and face. She passed it to Momo, who did the same, each of them moving carefully, almost ritualistically, as if the small bottle of sunblock held their lifeline.
Jihyo watched them, her face thoughtful. “I know it’s rough, but we’re doing good. Better than I expected... And if Jeongyeon’s team finds anything solid—bamboo, leaves, whatever—we can make a shelter big enough for everyone. Have a better place to sleep tonight.”
Dahyun nodded, trying to ignore the creeping exhaustion in her bones. “We’re okay, Jihyo. Really. Just... make sure you’re all getting enough shade here, too.”
Jihyo gave a faint smile, her eyes softening. “We’ll manage. And if you catch something... we’ll even have dinner.”
Nayeon snorted, looking at Dahyun with a mischievous grin. “No pressure, but we’re all counting on you.”
Dahyun rolled her eyes but managed a smile. “Guess we’d better not come back empty handed, then.”
They returned the bottle to Jihyo and with a final nod, they stood up, the three of them ready to return to the water, their sticks in hand.
As they moved into the water, the cool waves lapping at their legs, Dahyun noticed Sana trailing slightly behind. Her grip on the spear was tight, her knuckles pale, and her shoulders hunched as if the weight of everything had pressed too hard on her. Again. Sana’s head was bowed slightly, her gaze fixed on the water, her movements slow and hesitant, almost reluctant.
Dahyun stepped closer, lowering her spear to her side. “Sana?” she asked gently, her voice low enough to keep the moment private. “What’s wrong?”
Sana looked up, she hesitated, her lips trembling before she exhaled shakily and looked away. Her grip on the spear tightened, the wood creaking faintly under the pressure of her fingers. “It’s just... it’s hard being here,” she began, her voice catching. “Seeing Jihyo trying so hard despite her knee, and Mina...” She paused, her voice breaking as she bit her lip. “Mina looks so lost. It’s like she’s not really with us anymore, and I don’t know how to help her.” Sana’s shoulders trembled as she tried to contain herself from another breakdown. “I feel like I’m losing it, too... I miss my family so much... I miss home.”
Dahyun’s chest tightened at the raw emotion, “I... I miss them too. More than anything. But I... But you’re doing your best, Sana... and that’s more than enough.”
Sana let out a shaky breath, wiping her eyes with the back of her hand. She gave a soft, self-deprecating laugh. “I should be the one holding you, you know? I’m older. I should be the one giving you advice.”
Dahyun smiled, the corners of her lips quirking up in a playful but comforting way. “Hey, just because you’re older doesn’t mean you all the answers. Sometimes the younger ones can surprise you. Think of me as your emotional reset button—just come and press me to vent it all out.”
Sana laughed again, this time a little more freely, the sound breaking through the heaviness that had settled around them. “An emotional reset button, huh?” she said, her tone lighter now. “That’s a pretty big responsibility, Dahyun.”
“I can handle it,” Dahyun replied, her grin widening.
“Thank you, Dahyun. I mean it.”
They stood there for a moment longer before they rejoined Momo deeper in the water, their spears in hand and their spirits a little steadier.
They waited, the silence settling around them, punctuated only by the soft lapping of the waves. And as they stood there, poised and ready, Dahyun felt a strange sense of calm settle over her. With a final nod to each other, they lifted their spears, ready to face whatever the ocean offered them.
Dahyun took a steadying breath, her gaze focused on the water as she tightened her grip on the spear. Every ripple, every small glimmer beneath the surface had her hoping it was a fish, something she could catch and show the others—some small sign that they were still capable of survival, of getting through this, one day at a time.
But as she stood there, her thoughts drifted back to that first day on the boat, when the shock had really hit. She remembered how the despair had overtaken her, how she’d broken down, crying until there was nothing left in her.
The memory came back to Dahyun in sharp, vivid fragments, raw and suffocating. That first day, when they’d realized they were truly adrift, she had never felt fear so intense. It had gripped her chest like a cage, stealing her breath, her thoughts, her hope.
The sun was blinding, relentless in its assault, the salt air clinging to her skin and stinging her throat with every gasping breath. Waves slapped rhythmically against the boat, their sound a cruel reminder of their isolation and an unsettling mockery of their growing desperation. The horizon stretched endlessly in every direction, a vast emptiness that only deepened the pit in her stomach.
Her fingers gripped the railing, the cold metal biting into her palms. She felt the boat’s rocking beneath her, every shift in motion making her stomach churn violently. She tried to steady her breathing, but the bile rose anyway, sharp and bitter. Leaning over the edge, she heaved, her body convulsing as the acid burned her throat, and her vision blurred with tears she couldn’t control.
For a moment, the world was nothing but the sound of her ragged breaths, the pounding of her heart in her ears. She wiped her mouth with the back of her hand, her body trembling.
And then, something inside her snapped.
She screamed.
The sound ripped from her throat, raw and primal, tearing through the oppressive silence carried away by the waves. It wasn’t just a cry of fear—it was everything. Her terror, her frustration, her disbelief. It was the sound of someone breaking under the weight of the impossible.
The others froze, their gazes snapping to Dahyun in shock. Everyone except Mina. She sat motionless, her eyes vacant, as if she hadn’t heard or felt a thing. That stillness in her, that absence, made Dahyun’s fear deepen, her chest tightening painfully. There was no hope.
Her sobs broke through next, her knees buckling as she slumped against the railing. The salt from her tears mixed with the salty air, stinging her cheeks.
Sana crouched beside Dahyun, her hands hovering awkwardly before resting on Dahyun’s shoulder, her grip unsteady. She opened her mouth, but no words came. Instead, her face crumpled, silent tears streaking her cheeks as she simply held on. Her presence was fragile but steady, as though saying, I’m here. I’m scared too.
Jeongyeon’s voice finally broke the silence, low and strained, as she kept her eyes on the waves. “We have to... we keep going,” she murmured, more to herself than anyone else. Her knuckles were white against the wheel. “We have to.”
Chaeyoung glanced at Jeongyeon, her hand trembling as she gripped the edge of the boat. “There’s gotta be something. Somewhere. I’m sure they’re looking for us right now.” she murmured, her voice thin, barely audible over the waves.
Jihyo shifted slightly, her gaze fixed on the deck as she finally spoke, her voice hoarse. “They’ll finds us. In no time... they’ll find us.” But even as she said it, her tone carried the weight of doubt, her words as much for herself as for the others.
No one had the answers. No one could summon the strength to make promises. They sat in the suffocating silence, their shared fear stretching between them.
Tzuyu quietly moved closer to Dahyun, her presence like a shadow against the railing. She didn’t speak, didn’t try to offer hollow reassurances. She simply sat, her arm brushing against Dahyun’s, a reminder that they were all going through the same, all together—even in their fear.
Dahyun’s breathing began to slow, her sobs quieting as she stared out at the girl next to her. She realized then, with a sharp pang of clarity, that the screaming, the crying... none of it would change anything. Her chest ached with the weight of that truth, but as she looked at Tzuyu beside her and the others scattered around the boat, she knew she had to hold on. Not for herself, but for them. They couldn’t afford for her to fall apart, not when everyone else was already so close to breaking.
She wiped her face with trembling hands, her fingers brushing away tears and salt. The fear was still there, clawing at her insides, but she forced herself to take a deep breath. If nothing else, she would keep it together. For them.
In the present, standing knee-deep in the water with her spear in hand, Dahyun felt the memory wash over her, raw and unrelenting. The weight of that day, the fear, the screams—it lingered like a scar she carried in her chest. She closed her eyes briefly, inhaling deeply as the waves lapped around her legs, grounding her in the here and now. They had survived that day. They would survive this one too.
Back in the present, standing in the water with her spear, Dahyun felt the memory settle in her heart like a stone. It reminded her of the strength they’d had to find, the way they’d all been forced to dig deeper than they ever thought they could. She blinked, taking a deep breath to remind herself of that, again.
Looking down, Dahyun squinted at the water, her eyes following the faint glint of movement beneath the surface. The sunlight made the ripples shimmer, but there it was again—a fish, darting between her legs, its silvery body blending almost perfectly with the glimmers of light. Her grip on the spear tightened, her muscles tensing as she steadied herself.
She exhaled slowly, adjusting her stance to avoid disturbing the water too much. The fish moved quickly, weaving in and out of sight, but Dahyun stayed patient. Time seemed to slow as she focused, her heart pounding in her chest. And then, there it was again, hovering just beneath her.
With a sharp motion, Dahyun thrust the spear downward, the water splashing up against her legs. For a moment, she wasn’t sure if she’d hit it—but then she felt the resistance, the slight tug against her hands. Lifting the spear, she saw the fish wriggling at the end, its scales glinting in the sunlight as it twisted and flailed. A thrill shot through her, a mix of relief, of triumph.
She wanted to scream again, but not with pain this time.
She turned toward the shore, holding the spear up with the fish still writhing on the end. The others erupted into cheers, their voices cutting through the tension that had hung over them all day. Nayeon cupped her hands around her mouth to shout something encouraging, while Sana and Momo jumped up and down, splashing water as they waved their arms excitedly.
The sight of their joy sent a warmth through Dahyun’s chest. It wasn’t just the fish, or the thought of food, but the shared relief—the proof that they could do this, that they could survive. She brought the spear closer, gripping the fish carefully to secure it. It wasn’t big, and it would barely be enough for one, but it was a start.
/////////
There was barely any light now, the sun almost gone in the horizon as the girls worked tirelessly to build their shelter.
Tzuyu’s team had made several trips back from a spot inland, arms loaded with bundles of wood, large leaves, vines, and anything else that seemed remotely useful. The pile of materials grew steadily, with every trip.
Dahyun knelt in the sand, methodically tying sticks together with lengths of vines they’d gathered. Her fingers moved quickly, her focus narrowing to the task at hand. The steady rhythm of the work felt grounding, giving her a purpose amidst the chaos.
Jihyo, despite her injured leg, was seated nearby with a pile of smaller sticks and vines within arm’s reach. Her hands moved with no rest, tying pieces together to form supports for the structure. “Here,” she called, holding up a completed frame piece. “Add this to the left side. It should make it sturdier.”
“Got it,” Jeongyeon replied, taking the piece and fitting it into place. She glanced at Jihyo, a small smile on her lips. “See? Sitting down isn’t so bad.”
Jihyo smirked, though her hands didn’t stop working. “I’d go crazy just sitting here doing nothing. Might as well put me to work.”
Momo arrived with another armful of large leaves, sweat beading on her forehead as she dropped them into the pile. She leaned over, hands on her knees, catching her breath. “Who knew we’d be so good at survival stuff?” She gestured proudly at the materials they’d collected, her grin tired but playful.
“Good thing we have those pool inflatables,” Sana said, dragging one of the colorful floats closer. She positioned it against the side of the shelter, securing it with a length of vine. “They might look ridiculous, but... they’ll help block the wind.”
“Who would’ve thought inflatables would save us?” Dahyun added with a soft chuckle, adjusting another support beam.
“They’re going to make all the difference,” Jeongyeon replied, her tone half-serious as she tied a piece of vine to reinforce the structure. “We’ll use anything we can get our hands on out here.”
Tzuyu knelt beside Dahyun, holding the frame steady. “Pass me one of those longer sticks,” she said, and without hesitation, Dahyun handed it over, watching as Tzuyu secured it into the structure with careful precision.
Nayeon knelt nearby, arranging the leaves and bits of wood to add extra support. She glanced up at Jihyo with a wry smile. “If we get out of this, I’m never going camping again. This counts as a lifetime’s worth of roughing it.”
The group laughed, the sound brief but genuine, cutting through the heavy air. The moments of humor felt precious, like small beacons of light against the weight of... everything else. They continued working, their movements synchronized as they layered leaves over the frame and draped the inflatables to create the walls.
Jihyo tied off another piece of vine, her fingers moving quickly. “Here,” she said, handing another section to Momo. “This should help secure the top corner. Make sure it’s tight.”
Momo nodded, taking the piece and climbing up slightly to fit it into place. “This thing better hold up,” she muttered, though the glimmer of pride in her eyes betrayed her confidence.
Finally, Jeongyeon stepped back, surveying their work with a critical eye. The shelter was small and cramped, but it was sturdy enough for two people to huddle in. She let out a low whistle. “Not bad. Jihyo, you’ve got yourself a five-star resort here.”
Jihyo laughed, her expression softening as she looked at the shelter. “Can’t believe I’m saying this, but… it’s actually perfect.”
Dahyun leaned back on her heels, a wave of satisfaction washing over her as she took in the finished shelter. They’d done a better job that she’d imagined. the shelter was holding up, and it look sturdy enough to last the night. And that somehow felt like testament of their own too.
The sky kept on darkening as they gathered around a small fire Nayeon had managed to coax back to life. Dahyun bent by the flickering flames, carefully preparing the few fish they’d caught earlier. She’d cleaned and skewered them on sticks, holding them just above the flames so they’d cook evenly. It wasn’t much, but the smell of something hot and fresh was enough to lift their spirits.
“Only three small fish and Momo’s big catch,” Dahyun announced, dividing the portions as evenly as she could. “And... one can of food.”
She handed each of them a small piece, their hands brushing briefly as she passed the food around. The portions were small, but everyone accepted it without complaint, knowing they’d have to make it last.
Jihyo took her piece, smiling back at her. “The fish is amazing, Dahyun” she murmured, her words full of gratitude despite the meager serving.
Mina, who had been silent for most of the day, took her share. “Thank you,” she murmured, her voice barely audible, her eyes fixed on the flickering flames rather than the group.
Sana settled in beside Dahyun, carefully chewing her small portion. “Maybe tomorrow we’ll get lucky and find something else. Fruits, berries... maybe even a coconut?”
Jeongyeon snorted lightly, though her tone wasn’t dismissive. “The coconuts we’ve found so far have been useless. All dried up and empty. We’re gonna to have to go deeper inland to find any good ones.”
Tzuyu, staring into the flames, nodded thoughtfully. “Yeah. At least we know where to start looking. Further in, maybe closer to where the trees get denser. It’ll be harder to carry them back, though.”
“Every day, we’ll just take it one step further. Whatever we find, we bring back and figure out the next steps.”
Dahyun nodded, the weight of the day settling over her, but the warmth from the fire and the companionship of the others softened the edge. “We just keep going. What else can we do?”
They ate in silence for a few moments, savoring each bite, each sip of water they rationed from their single bottle. It wasn’t enough to quench their thirst, but it was something—enough to keep them going through the night.
The talk throughout dinner didn’t last, they were all exhausted from the heavy day, with no energy from food or water to keep on going.
The cold began to settle in, a stark contrast to the day’s heat. The wind picked up, sending a chill through the group as they huddled closer to the fire.
Sana glanced over at Jihyo, her expression tender. “I’ll stay tonight. I... I don’t want you alone.”
Jihyo looked at her, surprised but clearly touched. “Thanks, I’d appreciate that.”
Dahyun watched as the others rose, one by one, offering quiet goodbyes and words of encouragement as they made their way to the cave. She lingered a moment, catching Jihyo’s eye. “We’ll see you in the morning. Stay warm, okay?”
“We’ll be alright. Go rest, Dahyun. You had a long day.”
Dahyun and the others made their way across the sand to the cave, exhaustion settling over them like a heavy blanket. Once inside, the air felt cooler, damp with the scent of salt and stone. They arranged themselves in a close huddle, each girl leaning into the others for warmth and comfort. The silence was thick, but it felt safe, purposeful.
Dahyun positioned herself near the back wall of the cave, leaning against the cool stone for support. She had just started to lean back when she felt a familiar presence. Tzuyu quietly approached, settling herself between Dahyun’s legs as she had the night before. Her back rested gently against Dahyun’s chest, and Dahyun instinctively wrapped her arms loosely around Tzuyu, the gesture protective but not suffocating. Tzuyu shifted slightly, getting comfortable, her body relaxing into Dahyun’s.
The moon outside was giving them a soft glow that reached the edges of the cave, just enough to let Dahyun see the faint outlines of her friends. Her thoughts drifted, wandering through the events of the day—the shelter they’d built, the fish they’d caught, the laughter that had briefly broken the tension. Pride swelled in her chest as she thought of how far they’d come, how they had all pushed through the fear and exhaustion to do something. To survive.
She glanced down at Tzuyu, whose breathing had slowed, steady and calm. Dahyun allowed herself to believe that she didn’t have to worry so much. Today had been proof of that. She had seen the strength in all of them. They were steady. And they weren’t giving up.
“Tzuyu,” Dahyun whispered, her voice barely more than a murmur against the quiet, not wanting the rest to hear. “Were you okay today? I mean, inland and all... You’d tell me if you need slow down, right?”
Tzuyu’s head tilted slightly as if she were thinking. Her voice came soft but sure. “I was okay. I’m not scared of doing hard things. I... I don’t want to waste any chance to help.” She paused, then added, “You don’t have to worry about me. I’m not fragile, Dahyun.”
Dahyun blinked, Tzuyu’s words catching her off guard. She felt a flicker of something warm and reassuring settle in her chest, a confirmation of what she had already gathered. She tightened her arms around Tzuyu slightly, her lips curving into a smile.
“I didn’t mean it like that,” Dahyun whispered, her voice soft but earnest. “I just... I want to make sure you’re okay. That everything’s okay.”
Tzuyu nodded against her, and no more words were needed. She rested her head to the hard stone, the sound of the waves outside and the soft breathing of their friends soothing her.
For the first time since it al started, Dahyun felt the tight coil of worry in her chest begin to loosen. Together. They were getting through it together. And as Dahyun closed her eyes, letting the fatigue pull her into sleep, she held onto that, letting it carry her through the night.