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the waves crashing onto the shore of lahaina were a sound talia kahale had grown up with—steady, rhythmic, comforting. even now, miles away from hawaii, nestled in the fast-paced whirlwind of seoul, she could still hear them in her dreams. they echoed through her memories, pulling her back to the place that raised her, the only constant in a life marked by change.
talia opened her eyes, greeted by the familiar quiet of the early morning. her breath fogged the window as she gazed out at the sprawling city beneath her.
the high-rise apartment she lived in now was a far cry from the ever-shifting foster of her past. there were no strange beds or temporary families here—just her and her members. the sense of belonging she had longed for as a child had finally found its way to her, not in a traditional home, but in TXT.
the floor beneath her felt cool as she slipped out of bed. quielty, talia padded through the dimly lit hall, passing the doors to her members' rooms.
these boys—her brothers in every sense but blood—were still sleeping, unaware of the girl who often rose before dawn. beomgyu's door was cracked open, his soft snores audible in the silence. she smiled faintly. he'd never admit it, but he liked to sleep with his door slightly ajar, trusting that she'd be the one to peek in and make sure he was okay.
"boo," she whispered, the nicknames slipping past her lips like a quiet promise. she was his comfort. that unspoken connection was enough for him.
talia made her way to the small kitchen, habitually reaching for her surfboard keychain hanging by the fridge. it was one of her many attachments to the past; a small piece of home. she turned it over in her hand, the smooth surface bringing her back to the ocean, back to the days when life was simpler, even if it hadn't always been.
her life in foster care felt like a blur now, a distant memory of bouncing from house to house, never quite finding her place. she was only a few months old when her mother had to give her up, far too young to understand why. no home had ever felt permanent; no family had ever been hers.
she learned early that independence was her greatest ally. her best friend, rina, had been the only constant in those years—her rock, the one who had convinced her to chase something bigger than herself.
the decision to leave hawaii for south korea had been terrifying, but it had also been liberating. she had nothing to lose and everything to gain. she wasn't running away from her past, though. no, talia had learned that home wasn't a place. it was the people she loved, the memories she carried, and the small acts of care she shared with others.
as she began making coffee, the light in the kitchen flickered on. yeonjun appeared, hair disheveled, eyes half-closed. "you're up early again," he mumbled, rubbing his eyes.
talia glanced over, smiling softly. "couldn't sleep. wanted to catch the sunrise."
yeonjun leaned against the counter, folding his arms with a sleepy grin. "you and your sunrises," he teased, "one day, you'll actually get some rest."
she rolled her eyes playfully but didn't respond. rest wasn't easy for someone who was always thinking—about her members, her music, her responsibilities. she took criticism harshly, often replaying words in her head longer than she should. but she couldn't help it. being in the spotlight meant constantly trying to meet expectations, and sometimes, she worried if she was doing enough.
"hey," yeonjun's voice was softer now, as if reading her thoughts. "don't worry about everything all the time. you're doing great. TXT wouldn't be the same without you."
talia's chest tightened at his words. the warmth in his voice was a reminder that despite her worries, her members believed in her. sometimes it felt like she was still trying to prove herself, not just to the company but to herself as well. but yeonjun was right—she had worked hard for this, trained for years to work toward standing on stage as a vocalist, dance, and visual in a group as beloved as TXT.
focus on your members, on yourself, she reminded herself.
the coffee pot beeped, pulling her back to the present. she handed yeonjun a mug, the rich aroma filling the kitchen. as he took a sip, a smile formed on his lips, and for a moment, everything felt right.
"thanks, yunnie," yeonjun said, using the nickname the members had affectionately given her.
she nodded, leaning against the counter. "anytime."
they stood there in comfortable silence, watching the light of dawn creep over the skyline. it was moments like this that talia cherished. the quiet in-between where the demands of the world hadn't yet caught up to them. where she wasn't just talia of TXT, but a girl from hawaii, finding her place in the world, one sunrise at a time.
