Archive of Our Own

Chapter Text

"Rumi."

"Yes...?" She freezes, and quickly counts to ten. She is prepared for this. She turns slowly in her chair, looking up at her roommate. "Hey Mira."

"It's lunch time. Take your legally mandated break already."

"I am—I will." She reaches back to lock her screen quickly, and takes a few tries to turn off the monitor. Her brown eyes don't leave Mira's, even if the taller woman narrows her eyes at her. "I brought lunch."

"You're gonna eat..." Those eyes take careful stock of the professional cubicle that Rumi called her workspace.

Crisp, clean, and devoid of personal affects. Save that one Halloween photobooth photo which she had framed (Mira is wearing full royal-styled hanbok¹ while she is wearing the robes of a mudang).² Her keyboard is free of dust, monitor wiped regularly to reduce eyestrain, and mouse is standard issue. The only messy thing about her desk are the mountains of folders and binders, haphazardly organized by need and triple-checking data.

"...in here?"

"Yes. I made lunch this morning." And she pulls out a Sanrio boxed lunch from under three folders, and pops out the utensils case.

"Hmph. Okay." The pinkette pushes up her frames using her middle finger—okay, that is unnecessarily rude. "I'm gonna meet Zoey downstairs."

"Cool. I'll see you at trivia night later." Relief floods her at another successfully parried interaction.

"Oh the great gongjunim³ is joining us for trivia again?" She's already walking away. "That's what you said last week."

"I mean it this time!" Mostly. It's mostly true that she means it, sincerely even.

And Rumi is sure she'll figure out how to act around Zoey, their friend, after that accidental confession of feelings from quarter-end.

(Quarter-end was a month ago.)

It's fine. She'll make sure it's fine.

"You know you don't have to eat that shit."

Zoey jumps at the hand on her shoulder, only taking a breath after recognizing the voice. "Hello. Is what some people say."

"C'mon, lunch is on me." She lets herself be dragged out of the cafeteria, to wherever Mira was thinking of. Wherever it was, it'd save her that thing she does in ordering what Rumi eats so she'd eat the same. Something something choice paralysis and hyperfixation.

Wait, no, that made it seem like Rumi is her hyperfixation and that's not entirely untrue but also absolutely is and gotdamnit she just misses her friend. Of whom she has a crush on. It's not a mutually exclusive category to be sorted into and—wait.

Wait.

Breathe in.

Nutmeg and faint sage. Hyundai Sonata. Mira's car. She is in Mira's car, and the doors are locked.

Alright exhale out, "No snarky commentary today?"

"It's unproductive." Ugh, why is the pink-haired woman so effortlessly cool? "Rumi says she'll be at trivia later."

"Oh. Good. Mystery's been asking about her." Kind of, sort of. It wasn't like Mira didn't know. But insofar as the light violet haired man would have a curious hum when joining her at the bar every Thursday. A mystery, still. (Sure she bit the bullet and apologized for not asking for his name before, but it was more fun to call him Mystery over Yujin honestly.) "Are we even gonna place tonight? It's all about Bong Joon Ho movies and I got sad about 'Parasite'."⁴

"Zo, we literally marathoned his movies the past week. You don't remember anything?" She parks the car before side-eying her. "Thought you'd be actually paying attention for once since Rumi wasn't there."

"Okay two things. One, you're too competitive for a round of free drinks. And two," The younger woman pouts, "For a wingwoman, you're kinda awful at this."

"Bitch, I'm perfect." She has the gall to roll her eyes at her! "Trust me, you're making more progress than the last person who tried to make a pass at her."

And then Mira doesn't say a single gotdamn thing in context to that. Up the elevator, back to unit 424, and cooking a full-ass meal with fried tangsuyuk⁵ and kimchi⁶ fried rice.

"We're not going back after, huh." She's leaning against the counter, thankful that it's not a marble countertop like the other units such as her's. A bit older, plastic covering some brownish swirly design not unlike home's Cheesecake Factory.

"Nope." She pops the 'p' as she loads a plate up for her guest. "Besides. You need a refresher."

"No I don't. I'm there to flip the paddle fast and then you get the questions."

"Not leaving it to Rumi?"

"She hates horror movies." In the Before Confession times, she and Rumi would outvote Mira on what to watch for movie night. Usually comedies and feel-good family friendly films (quadruple F bonus!). The lilac braided woman had taken to holing up in her room After Confession for movie night (and trivia night, and trivia prep night). She'd say she had her reading list to get through for book club.

(It's not unbelievable that Rumi is part of a book club. What gives her a prickly needle-hurt is the dancing around and the avoiding.)

"They aren't horror. They're about the human condition."

"Right." Zoey stabs at a piece of pork with a chopstick and maybe too much vitriol, "Horror."

They continue to bicker throughout lunch, and during the proposed 'refresher' for trivia tonight. All the way until the lock clicks and the door opens, Zoey turns her head to watch Rumi fumbling with her magpie keychain in one hand and a stack of binders in her other arm. How is she so heckin' cute???

Realizing she was looking-kinda-disrespectfully, she forces herself to refocus on Mira who looked pensive all of a sudden. Huh.

"Hey Rumi." The binders tumble out of the braided woman's arm and there's a quick censored curse coming from that'a direction. "Not meeting us at the bar?"

"Miiiiiiiiiiiiiiiira. Hey Zoey." Elongated exasperation. Her name followed with a nervous laugh. "I was just dropping off a few things here first..."

"Sure you were."

Zoey finds her voice again, and somehow her own bubbly smile too, "Hey Rumi. We can head out whenever you're ready!"

"Ready? I'm not—It's Bong Joon Ho, he's—I haven't seen—Weather forecast said rain—" With each short uttered phrase, Rumi's forearms are aligned with each other and she's moving this and that way like she can grasp the right phrase from a UI that only she could see. Oh boy. She's riddled with anxiety. There's a short inhale and then a long exhale: "I don't feel like drinking tonight."

Not that her crush Rumi never drank like some dumb teetotaler, but Zoey's pretty sure she could count on one hand the amount of times she's seen the lilac haired woman with something alcoholic in hand. Carefully 'sipped and enjoyed'. In just the past 8 months 1 week 2 days year-ish. Though, there probably were times when she and Mira had some fun (oh gosh not like that) and she wasn't there because that was totally a roommates thing and not an all-out friend hang—wait, are they not friends did they stop being friends oh fuck this is so weird now if they aren't friends-and-she's-here-in-her-space-but-wait-it's-also-Mira's-space-too-and-they're-friends-unless—

Zoey goes near-cross eyed after Mira claps her hands in front of her face, her eyes zeroing-in on the magenta polish and were her nails trimmed on the third and fourth—ooooooh.

"You back?" She's frowning. Why is Mira frowning? Was she saying things out loud again?— "Rumi's in her room. We can grab snacks on our way to the bar."

"...They don't allow outside food." She points out, just to be contrary and show that she's absolutely focused on what they were planning. "It's pretty rude to do that."

"I own the place, they can't ban me."

She blinks, and tries to stare Mira down, but the older woman had the perfect poker face.

Zoey grins widely, locking in her answer: "Bullshit."

"Caught me." She's grinning right back at her. "But for real, let's get a move on."

3rd place shouldn't sting, it was within her expectations.

If Rumi had joined them like she promised, Mira was fairly certain they could have gotten 2nd place, at least. Mystery remained enigmatic but surprisingly helpful, and Zoey's skills with the paddle certainly got them bonus points for speedy answers.

But still.

"Hey, Rumi." She raps her knuckles right under the blue derpy looking cat name-plate, and lets herself in. There's a squeak of surprise as she squints at the low lamp-light, letting her eyes adjust as she leans against the doorframe. Her roommate has her wisteria hair carefully piled into a silk sleep bonnet and a pale Anua⁷ facemask on.

"We got third place." Mira tries to not sound too bitter about it.

"Oh that's...really good, bronze medal." Rumi closes her book. "Are you tired? There's some sujebi⁸ left-over in the fridge—"

"Where the fuck did you find time to make sujebi?" There's hardly any venom in her words, and she sighs in exaggeration as she walks in to flop onto Rumi's purple ergonomic office chair. "Also, Zoey got hit on earlier."

"It doesn't take that—come again?" Baited. Rumi's sitting up in bed and her shoulders tense up in a panic. "Did you just—"

"Zoey. Got. Hit. On." She even enunciates the words, with emphasis, as she watches her reaction. "Problem?"

"Problem-I-don't-have-a-problem-what-problem-she's-single-and-fun-and-really-cute-and—"

"You think she's cute?" Mira cuts her off with a raised eyebrow, watching as Rumi did an impressive impersonation of some red-fruit enhanced by photo-editing magic to be even more saturated in color.

And then they stare at each other. Rumi fighting for her life to regain her composure.

Her eyes are starting to water, but she lost already tonight and Mira wanted to get the truth out of the other woman. She'll drag it out if she has to.

"Mira." Rumi gives in first, blinking away the watery tears of her simultaneously dry-eyes.

"Rumi." She leans back and crosses her arms. "I'm not judging you for liking her."

"I know that—"

"—But I am judging you." Rumi's breath hitches in a quiet gasp. "For not doing a fucking thing about it."

Whatever protests her wisteria haired friend had disappears. She looks away, hugging her knees close (teddy bear pajamas, really?). And Mira lets her think. Work out her feelings, like an expectant therapist.

"I don't want to make another mistake."

"Ah huh." She huffs at a strand of her mugunghwa⁹ red hair, "The only thing that rat-faced bastard and Zoey have in common is having dark hair. Like 95% of Koreans."

"Mira." She fully turns away from her now. "Things are fine. We're fine. We're...we're good friends."

"Are you? You've been a pretty shitty friend lately." She's not trying to be hurtful, but the truth just happens to hurt. "She's my friend too, yanno. You've been stringing her along by avoiding her and all."

Mira keeps staring at the lump of teddy-bears that is her roommate. There were very few instances in the past five years where they had a silence drag out like this.

Rumi eventually finds her voice. Quiet as it is. "Did she take their number?"

"Rumi, you know she didn't." It helped that Mira glared at the flirt until they went away. But still.

Time for plan Delta.

And, if she made Zoey eat her words about Mira being 'a terrible wingwoman.' That's just gravy for her.

This is so clearly and blatantly a set-up, that Zoey isn't sure what Mira is thinking in all of it.

1. She and Rumi are seated next to each other in First Class on Korean Air
2. They're going to stay at the 'couples'—or 'honeymoon', or 'VIP', or 'presidential'—suite
3. Allegedly Mira's girlfriend broke up with her and that's why she had this week booked out and it'd suck if it went to waste
4. Mira's girlfriend, who she'd been seeing, without either her or Rumi being made aware of, let alone getting to hang out with!—
5. And they're going to Jeju Island, specifically Seogwipo¹⁰
6. And and and, the week includes the first of the month, which is why Mira called off and said she had work to do. 'Cause board meeting where she'll be bored out of her mind

It was so obvious that she was absolutely certain Rumi wasn't going to come.

But then she did.

Rumi had her things all packed in a large plastic luggage case, it had a simple train-stencil pattern set at an acute because she's just THAT cute angle. Had stowed it next to Zoey's own hockey-sized duffle bag—hey no judging, she loved the different sections and pockets and rip of velcro okay. Mira's driver took them to Incheon airport, because again, Mira is super busy working at her family's company. Supposedly and according to her.

And Zoey doesn't like to get her hopes too high up there. It's been like two months and Rumi only just started looking her in the eye again at work and they were eating their cheap food court lunches together again. So what if she never got an answer. She'd have to be like, so down bad if she thought Rumi's reaction was anything other than rejection.

...Shit she is down bad. So real bad that she's an unapologetic simp about the lilac braided woman.

(Abruptly in that all-at-once sense, super suddenly, Zoey is not sure what's going to happen on this trip.)

The flight may take about an hour, given the perfect weather flying-conditions. Too short for a movie, and yet still too long to get her flight-anxiety out. Soooo, maybe she took a sleeping pill, half of one. Timed to hit after take-off, down for a little nap.

And then her plan worked a little too well. Because next thing she knew, she was in the back of a cab with Rumi with her head on her shoulder. Also—somehow Rumi had carried both her and all their things while she was out of it??? (Ohmygod her biceps weren't for show and that did something to Zoey's insides. All squirmy and butterfly-ie and she knows her face is hella red.)

Zoey promises to God and Buddha and whoever else out there that the other woman didn't notice her jerking awake. She keeps her eyes closed, and tries to let the moment just, be what it is.

Her curiosity does have her cracking one eye open though, because say what one did about Mira and her hired cars, but, usually they didn't smell that sage-y with a hint of something else. And she knows what sage smells like because it's something she definitely associated with the lilac-haired woman.

But Rumi is in the backseat with her, which...wait, is this the infamous Celine? They were talking in low tones, something about Rumi's mom being too sick to host her after all, so to the hotel they go.

Zoey makes a whole scene of stirring awake and peering up at her friend through her lashes. "M'sorrey, mm'sweepy."

And she definitely didn't imagine the other woman's pulse quickening. They were awfully close, and haven't been this physically close in like, two months. 'Cause. Yeah.

The avoiding.

"That's alright. You were mumbling in your sleep earlier." She missed that soft tone, starving for it really. "Something about Mikey-3 being the best ninja turtle...?"

"Hmmm, probably the 2003 American cartoon. It rocked, and also like, did something to my brain chemistry."

"Oh. There's...a show about turtles that are ninjas?"

"Yeah, it's kinda like...super heroes? But a lil' Orientalist but also still really kick-ass despite coming from like the '70s."

"Right. But you enjoyed it?"

"Oh yeah, it's like my Roman Empire. Stuff I wonder about some days." Zoey tries to sit up a little straighter, grinning into the rearview mirror as she meets the driver's eyes. "Hi ajumma,¹¹ I'm Zoey. It's nice to meet you."

"Celine." She gets a smile in turn. "It's nice to finally meet Rumi's girlfriend."

Zoey can feel her face heating up as she bites her tongue. Did she deny it or should she joke around like it was true? She tries to discreetly look to her left and Rumi is somehow even redder than she is.

There's also no denial and her heart starts beating a heck'uva lot faster all of a sudden.

"Eomeoni,¹² you should focus on the road. We're nearly there." Now that sounded like a whine, one she hadn't heard since Rumi was sick af.

"To stay at the Hyatt, when you have your eomma and I here. I take it that it was Mira's doing?" Hold up, Rumi had two moms? She looks to the rearview mirror again, narrowing one of her eyes. Celine doesn't look like she's Rumi's mom. Partially curled hair and a different face shape. And weren't they just discussing that Rumi's mom was, sick, and that's why they were going to the hotel together—

...Did Mira somehow bribe Rumi's mom to pretend she was sick??? No way...way?? And there's totally only going to only be one bed, right?

Rumi sighs. "Yes. You know she doesn't see won-signs on anything."

"Wait, does she also own—"

"No." Gorgeous tigers-eye with flecks of gold meet her eyes. "She just owns our apartment building, promise. She has the smallest portfolio of all the board members."

"And you know this how...?"

Her angel shrugs and offers a single-dimple grin. "I asked her."

They disembark from Celine's car with their things, promising to grab dinner with Rumi's moms (plural!) later that night. One elevator ride up to the top, where the friggen penthouse was. Beach-facing floor-to-ceiling windows, and a welcome basket of fruit and wine on top of ostentatious marble countertops.

To Zoey's disappointed-relief: Mira had gotten them a suite with two beds. Sure they were king-sized but there's still two.

It's kinda sloppy for a supposed couples trip.

"Oh, Mira's a blanket-hog."

Zoey squeaks, she didn't mean for that to be out loud. She looks over to her, "Buuuut we've used the wolf-blanket at your place together...?"

"Yeah, 'cause we're awake." Rumi laughs softly. "She's not nearly as considerate when she's asleep. Says its instinct."

"Ah-may-zing." She waits a beat. "Uh, so you have two moms. That's cool?"

"Oh it's... Just kinda how things are?" There's something to be said about the way Rumi looks with that shy-slightly-chastised grin. The edges of her mouth quirked up just enough to show her teeth in a glimmer of white (thanks giant windows and the afternoon-light). "Celine's my mom's girlfriend. She's been around forever and sort of raised me too?"

"Mmm. That is cool." Zoey beams. "Love is love."

They had left their hotel on bike rentals shortly after unpacking, with Rumi pointing out places here and there that she thought would interest her. And Zoey soaked it all up, finding a fun delight in seeing the environment where her friend had grown up in.

There's a special sort of joy in seeing someone else eating the foods she grew up on, Rumi thought.

Gogi-guksu¹³ and samseon jajangmyeon,¹⁴ with sides of chamchijeon,¹⁵ pickled mu,¹⁶ and miyeok guk.¹⁷ Little touches of home that she definitely missed.

Less so—when she offered to help her eomma with washing the dishes—with the polite queries started about when she'd come back to stay, and if she was thinking of children.

"And you haven't brought someone home before. Is Zoey—"

"Eomma, I've brought Mira with me on my last visit." Rumi can feel her cheeks burning hotter than the surface of the sun. "The—It's delicate, the, the thing—Zoey is different."

"Aein."¹⁸ Her dismal attempt at distracting Mi-yeong is only saved by Celine tapping her shoulder. "Zoey has some questions about your job. They don't meet many haenyeos¹⁹ on the mainland."

She doesn't need to look to know her eomma is pouting, as she heads back into the dining room to be a good entertaining host.

It's also not much of a reprieve, Rumi realizes belatedly.

"Your last visit was much too long ago." She starts drying dishes from the rack, replacing them in the cabinets. "We missed you at Seollal."

"Two years ago. A-And Mira doesn't like her family."

"She'd have been welcome here, with us. A good friend of yours will always be."

"You two got into a shouting match on our last visit." She points out, dryly. "She didn't think she was welcome."

"We've smoothed out that disagreement since." Rumi's on the last pot now, eyes downcast and scrubbing intently. "She keeps asking for ways to help you avoid burnout."

Peak irony from the parent that instilled that workaholic tendency in her. Something to laugh about in hypothetical therapy at a later time. "Okay, maybe I do work hard, but. I...I'm fine, eomeoni."

"That may be so, but, are you happy, jag-eun byeol?"²⁰ Celine reaches over to hold her cheek gently, drying rag in her other hand. "In the city, or with Zoey?"

"...I haven't even asked her out yet." She didn't like how her voice went small and tight at the admission. A confession she was still not all that comfortable with. It'd be a big change, and one she wasn't entirely sure of.

("Rumi, you know she didn't." She hadn't, but what about the next time? Or even while they were together and Zoey feels held back by her?)

"Then ask." Celine advises, patiently. "She's a bright young woman Rumi, and so are you. She won't hurt you."

"...Do you approve? Of her?" She finally raises her eyes to make proper eye contact, hoping her desperation doesn't seep through in her look. "Is she—"

"Jag-eun byeol, you don't need my approval, or your eomma's or appa's." Her eomeoni's firm words stilled some of Rumi's anxiety. "If she makes you happy, that's all we care about. You may fight and bicker, but love is more than feeling. It's communication and commitment."

Celine strokes her cheek once before lowering her hand, "And, if you hurry, you'll be able to show her the sunset."

"...Isn't that your move with eomma?" It used to feel incredibly corny as a child, but, the cliché is effective.

"It was your appa's actually, but he stole my guitar." They both laugh, and she leaves the kitchen feeling a new sense of determination.

"So this cove is just like, here?" Zoey is peering this way and that. "Looks like there's space for a picnic."

"It's a good picnic spot, when the tides are low." Rumi admits, guiding them both further into the recess. The sun is sinking way too fast for her liking, but they're almost at the right spot. She sets down a worn blanket on the sandy bank, and takes a deep breath. She is not going to overthink the gesture and just how intimate it is. "This was, uhm, where my eomma started training to be a haenyeo. And all the women in our family before her."

"Oh family history time?" She doesn't look, Zoey's tone sounds pitying enough, "You didn't want to do it?"

"No. I, I have nyctophobia. Fear of the dark." Deep breaths now. "And it can get dark, ten, twenty meters into the sea. I had a panic attack the first time I tried to do it, dive, I mean."

"Sounds like an occupational hazard." A 'hmm'-ing empathetic noise. "Not getting why we're in a cave when its starting to get dark."

"Well... There's also only some things that you can see in the dark. Like the stars." Rumi raises her head, grinning just a little. She gestures to the choppy waters before them, catching the setting sun's oranges and reds. She then raises her finger, pointing towards the cove's domed ceiling, where the refracted light seems to make the painted-on starfish shimmer lively.

She feels butterflies at hearing the other woman's soft gasp of delighted surprise.

"That is so freaking cool."

"Yeah. I love it, the view and the sea stars." Rumi swallows. "And I... I like you, a lot—too, I mean too."

"Too? When did I say I liked you?" Their eyes meet, but she doesn't detect bitterness in Zoey's tone. More of...a light attempt at comedy. "You're gonna have to remind me."

"Zoey." But she grins wide, inching a little closer. "From, quarter-end. You said you'd kiss me."

"Huh. I did, didn't I?" Zoey taps her chin with an index finger, eyes mischievous. "I don't recall you giving me permission to."

"You just have to ask."

"Okay." She winks as she leans in, batting her eyelashes. "May I, pretty pretty please, kiss you?"

"Yes." The distance closes.

And Zoey pecks her nose.

"Tease." Rumi grumbles, feeling a slight flush threaten to crawl up her neck again.

"Didn't say where." She reminds her cheekily.

"May I please kiss you then?" At Zoey's nod, she leans in to press her lips against hers. Short and sweet.

And then Rumi finds out, that yes: Zoey is most certainly a great kisser.