Chapter Text
Lena's bedroom was still dark. The curtains had only begun to catch the faintest grey of morning, and the air conditioner had finally stopped clicking. She couldn't sleep last night. Not after what happened. Then she remembered Miu was in the living room.
Lena reached for her phone. It was 6:07 a.m.
For a while, she lay on her side facing the half open bedroom door. Nothing moved beyond it. No light, no quiet complaint about the sofa, no sound of Miu making coffee or searching through Lena’s kitchen as though she owned half of it.
Lena closed her eyes. She should at least try to get some sleep, she thought to herself. Miu was in the living room, and there was absolutely no reason for Lena to need to check on Miu. But she did anyways.
She pushed the blanket away and got out of bed. The floor was cool beneath her feet. She moved quietly through the bedroom and paused at the doorway, ajar enough for Lena to be able to sneak a peak.
The living room was beginning to appear in the early light. Miu lay on her side facing the back of the sofa, the blanket pulled loosely around her waist. One arm was tucked beneath the pillow, the other rested near her face, fingers curled against the cushion. The sofa was wide enough for her, but it still looked wrong for Miu belonged in the bedroom, her bedroom. With her. The thought came so naturally that Lena did not question it.
But last night, Miu had chosen the sofa. That was different. That hurt.
Lena walked towards the living room and stood behind the sofa. She saw a faint creases that marked Miu’s cheek from the pillow. Her hair had loosened during the night and now fell untidily across her face. One strand rested over her mouth, moving slightly each time she exhaled.
Miu looked softer when she slept. Less careful. There was none of the control she had held onto the night before - no folded hands, no measured distance, no quiet deliberated decision not to reach back.
Lena looked at the wrist Miu had held through the night. Miu's pulse point was hidden now beneath the edge of the pillow.
Lena remembered the beat beneath her thumb.
Fast.
Alive.
The memory travelled through her hand. She should have stepped away, yet instead, she walked around the sofa and lowered herself to Miu's face.
The blanket had slipped away from Miu’s shoulder. Lena reached for it first, pulling the fabric higher. Miu did not move.
Lena’s hand remained near Miu, strands of hair still laying across Miu’s mouth. Lena looked at it. She could move it, she wanted to, badly. They had done things like this a thousand times. Miu had brushed hair from Lena’s face during interviews, removed lint from her clothes, fixed her lipstick without asking. Lena had straightened Miu’s collar, wiped food from the corner of her mouth and held her face still while someone adjusted an earring. None of those touches had required permission.
But this one did.
Lena raised her hand, fingers hovering near Miu’s cheek. The distance was barely anything. Warmth reached her before contact did.
Lena paused and watched Miu’s face. The slight parting of her lips. The faint tension between her eyebrows, even in sleep. Her fingertips moved closer, and closer until Miu’s eyes opened.
Lena froze.
For one second, neither of them reacted. Miu looked at Lena’s face, then at the hand suspended beside her cheek.
“The blanket was falling.” Lena said, as her hand lowered quickly.
“What?” Her voice came rough with sleep. Miu blinked.
“The blanket.” Lena gestured towards it.
“You were cold.”
Miu looked down. The blanket had been pulled almost to her chin then looked back at Lena.
“Was I?”
“Yes.”
Miu did not argue. That made Lena more uncomfortable. Lena stood too quickly and nearly knocked her knee against the coffee table. Ouch
“You should not sleep like that.”
“Like what?” Miu slowly pushed herself upright.
“On your side.”
“I always sleep on my side.”
“Not on this sofa.”
“It is still a sofa.” Miu looked around.
“You will hurt your shoulder.”
Miu rubbed her face with both hands and Lena watched the strand of hair disappear beneath Miu's own fingers. The touch Lena had nearly given, wanted to give so badly, was completed without her.
Miu lowered her hands.
“What time is it?”
“6:18am.”
Miu stared, still slightly dazed.
“Why are you awake?”
“I always wake up early.”
“No, you don’t.”
“I do for work.”
“We barely slept.”
“That is not my fault.” Lena folded her arms.
Miu looked at her. Lena heard herself too late. Miu glanced towards the bedroom door, then back at the blanket around her.
“No,” she said softly. “I suppose not.” Miu's answer landed without accusation.
Lena wished Miu had argued. She looked towards the kitchen to get away from the budding awkwardness between them. It was way too early and Lena was way too sleep deprived for this.
“Do you want coffee?”
Miu rested her head against the back of the sofa.
“It is six in the morning.”
“You drink coffee at six.”
“I also drink it at midnight. That does not make either decision good.”
“You drank wine last night.”
“I had one glass.”
“You never have one glass.”
“Were you counting from Emi's stories?” Miu looked at her.
“No.” Heat rose along Lena’s face.
“So, coffee?”
“Okay.” Miu considered it.
Lena went into the kitchen. Normally, Miu would follow. She would climb onto the counter despite Lena telling her not to, steal ice from the freezer and give unrequested opinions about the way Lena measured coffee. But this morning, she remained on the sofa. Lena heard the soft movement of fabric behind her, the click of Miu fastening one earring, then the other. Keys being lifted from the coffee table followed by the quiet zip of her bag.
Lena stopped with the coffee scoop still in her hand. She looked over her shoulder and saw Miu folding the blanket.
“You don't have to do that.” A wave of sadness washed over Lena.
“What?” Miu looked towards her.
“The blanket.”
“I used it.”
“I know.”
Miu folded it once more and placed it neatly over the arm of the sofa. The pillow followed. Everything returned to where it had been before Miu arrived. All Lena could do was watch.
“You can leave it.”
“It is already folded.”
“That is not what I meant.”
Miu looked at her for a moment. Then she adjusted the strap of her bag. Lena turned back towards the coffee machine. The machine seemed louder than usual when she switched it on.
“You are leaving?”
“I have work.”
“So do I.”
“Yes.”
“You could stay until traffic gets better.”
“It will get worse.”
“You could shower here.”
Miu glanced towards the hallway. The suggestion entered the space between them and changed shape. Lena realized too late that showering here would lead to borrowing clothes, sitting on Lena’s bed while choosing what to wear and leaving half an hour later than planned. Ordinary things before, too close now.
“I can shower at home,” Miu said.
“You can borrow something.”
“I know.”
Lena pressed the button on the machine. The coffee began to pour.
“You always borrow my clothes.”
“Not always.”
“You took my white shirt last month.”
“You gave it to me.”
“You never gave it back.”
“It looked better on me.”
The old argument should have made Lena smile, it nearly did. Lena made the coffee exactly the way Miu liked it. Black, hot with no sugar. She carried the mug into the living room and Miu reached for it automatically. But once their fingers came close, Miu changed her grip before they touched. The movement was small, but Lena felt it anyway.
“You remembered.” Miu lifted the mug.
“Of course I do.” Lena frowned.
Miu took a sip as Lena sat beside her. There was no carefully plotted space between them this time. Their shoulders could have touched if either leaned slightly but neither did.
Miu held the cup between both hands, Lena watched her silently. The faint crease from the pillow was still visible near her cheek.
“You have a mark.”
“Where?” Miu turned.
“There.” Lena lifted a finger towards her own cheek.
Miu rubbed the wrong side.
“No, the other one.”
Miu switched hands.
“Here?”
“A little higher.”
Miu kept missing it so Lena’s hand lifted instinctively. She stopped before touching her. Lena's fingers stilled against her cheek suspended between them. Then Miu turned towards the dark television and used the reflection to find the mark herself. Memories from last night resurfaced; the distance between their faces, how Lena's gaze pierced into her soul from the same reflection on the television, how much she wanted Lena to just tell her what she wanted to hear - how much she wanted Lena to be brave.
The rejection from Miu was so small that calling it rejection felt dramatic. It still hurt Lena.
“You could have let me show you.”
“I found it.”
“That is not the point.”
“What is the point?” Miu looked towards her.
Lena did not know, or more rather, she did and was scared of it. Lena looked down as Miu took another sip. The coffee had not softened Miu in the way Lena had expected. Mornings before any of this, Miu would have rested her head on Lena’s shoulder while complaining that it was too early to exist. Now she sat upright - present, polite.
“Are you still tired?” Lena asked.
“Yes.”
“You should have slept in the bed.”
“No.” Miu looked into the mug.
“The sofa is worse.”
“I know.”
“Then why...” Lena stopped.
They had already discussed it. She had no right to ask Miu to explain the boundary again simply because the morning had made it inconvenient. Miu waited for Lena to finish, but Lena could not.
“You did not sleep either,” Miu said.
“How do you know?”
“I heard you moving.”
Lena looked towards the bedroom.
“You were awake?”
“For most of it.”
“Why?”
Miu glanced at her. Lena heard the stupidity of the question immediately and Miu did not answer. She placed the mug on the coffee table, still half full, or half empty, just like yesterday night. A series of events that did not fulfill any predicted outcomes.
Lena stared at it.
“You did not finish.”
“I'll get coffee later.”
“I made that for you.” Lena's words were gentle, but they did not make the cup less abandoned.
Miu stood and Lena followed automatically.
“Don't leave yet.”
Nothing.
“You have time.” Lena said again, this time with more urgency.
“Lee.”
“What?”
Miu looked at her carefully. There was no anger in Miu's face, which made what came next feel heavier.
“I think I need to go home.”
It was not about the shower.
“Okay.” The word came colder than Lena intended.
Miu noticed. Her expression changed. Lena regretted it immediately, but pride kept her from correcting the tone.
At the door, everything she had brought was already in her hands. The earrings were clasped on her ears, keys in her hands, phone in her pocket and bag on her shoulders. Nothing remained on the coffee table except the half finished coffee. Miu left no excuse for her to return later. Lena looked towards the living room, then back at Miu.
“Are you seeing Emi today?” The question escaped before she could stop it.
Miu’s hand paused on the strap of her bag.
“No.”
Relief arrived quickly and Lena hated that Miu could see it.
“Tomorrow?”
Miu studied Lena carefully. Every movement of her eye, every micro expression.
“I'm not sure.”
Lena’s jaw tightened.
“Probably.” Miu added then looked away.
The answer landed quietly. Lena felt the jealousy return, but it no longer felt as simple as before. It was now mixed with the memory of yesterday, the blanket folded neatly on the sofa, the coffee that was left unfinished.
Miu was not only moving towards Emi, she was moving away from Lena.
“Could you not?” Lena said.
Miu looked back. Lena heard the request for what it was - posessive, small and unfair. She did not take it back.
“I could.” Miu’s expression softened with something that almost looked like sadness.
Lena’s stomach dropped.
“But I am not going to decide my life based on which answer makes you feel better today.” Miu continued before Lena could mistake the answer.
The sentence was not sharp. It did not need to be. Lena looked away.
The old Miu would have softened it immediately. She might have touched Lena’s arm or made a joke about the expression on her face. But this version of Miu simply allowed the truth to remain.
Lena looked towards Miu's hand, within reach. She did not take it. She couldn't, after all that.
Miu opened the door and morning light spilled into the apartment from the corridor.
“Text me when you get home,” Lena said.
“I will.”
Lena waited for the usual nickname. It did not come. Miu stepped into the corridor towards the apartment lift. Lena remained in the doorway until Miu disappeared into one. Only then did Lena go back into the living room.
The apartment looked almost unchanged, the pillow had returned to the spare room, the blanket was folded. Miu was gone. Only the cup remained. Lena picked it up, the coffee had begun to cool.
A faint mark from Miu’s lipstick rested along the rim.
Lena stared at it. Her thumb moved towards the mark, then she stopped herself. The gesture felt too private when Miu was no longer there.
Lena carried the mug to the kitchen and placed it beside the sink. She did not wash it, not immediately.
Miu texted at 8:03 a.m.
Miu: Home.
Lena read it at once.
She typed:
Lena: Good.
Too passive aggressive. Deleted it.
Lena: Okay.
Too casual. Deleted that too.
In the end, she wrote:
Lena: Thank you for telling me.
Miu reacted with a heart. The red symbol appeared beneath the message with no call following it. A week earlier, the message would have become a conversation. Miu would have complained about traffic, sent a picture from the lift or asked what Lena planned to eat before the meeting.
This morning, the heart marked the end. Lena placed the phone down; it remained silent while she showered, while she dressed, while she stood in front of the mirror and changed her blouse twice because neither looked right.
At 9:11 a.m., she sent Miu a picture of the cloudy sky. The message was read twelve minutes later.
Miu: Rain later.
That was all.
Lena stared.
Lena: Are you busy?
Miu took 7 minutes.
Miu: Getting ready for work.
Lena: Call me when you are done.
The typing indicator appeared. Disappeared. Returned.
Miu: I have a full day. Maybe tonight.
Lena’s chest tightened. Miu always called, between makeup during solo gigs, in the car, while waiting for someone else to finish. There were entire stretches of Miu’s life that Lena had experienced through a phone balanced against a mirror or propped beside a cup of coffee. Tonight was new.
Lena typed:
Lena: Fine.
She looked at the word.
Again, too passive aggressive. Deleted it.
Lena: Okay.
This time, she sent it.
Miu reacted with another heart. Lena began to hate hearts.
By noon, Lena had checked her phone often enough for Orm to notice. They sat across from each other in a meeting room while someone discussed a revised campaign shoot schedule.
Lena’s phone remained face up beside her notebook. Every time it lit, her gaze shifted.
None of the messages were from Miu.
Orm leaned closer.
“Are you expecting something?”
“No.”
“You have checked your phone 17 times.”
“You counted?” Lena said as she checked her phone again.
“16. That was 17.”
Lena turned the phone face down. Orm looked at her.
Lena ignored her. Two minutes later, she turned it over again.
“What happened?” Orm sighed.
“Nothing.”
“That word really should be banned.”
Lena looked towards her.
“Did she leave?” Orm’s expression softened.
“She went home.”
“That was not what I asked.”
Lena glanced towards the presentation. No one was looking at them.
“She slept on the sofa.”
Orm’s eyebrows lifted.
“You have a sofa.”
“That is not the point.”
“Then what is?”
“She always sleeps in my bed.”
Orm said nothing.
“She said it would not feel like only sleep anymore.”
Orm’s expression changed. The humour disappeared completely.
“And?”
“And she left early.”
“What happened before the sofa?”
Lena thought of Miu’s pulse beneath her thumb, the dangerous space between their mouths, how close she had moved - how quickly fear had stopped her.
“We almost…”
Orm waited. Lena could not finish, but Orm understood anyway.
“Oh.”
“I did not do anything.”
“That may also be the problem.”
Lena gave her a tired look.
“Everyone keeps saying that.”
“Who is everyone?”
“Miu did not.”
“What did she say?” Orm studied her.
“Not much.”
That was what hurt.
Miu had not demanded an answer. She had simply moved herself somewhere safer.
“She is not calling today,” Lena said.
Orm’s eyes softened.
“She has work.”
“She always calls.”
Orm was quiet for a moment. Then, carefully,
“Maybe she is trying to stop acting as though she is always available.”
“She said something like that before.” Lena’s fingers tightened, forming into a fist.
“And you did not like it.”
“No.” The answer came too easily.
“Do you miss Miu, or do you miss having access to her?” Orm looked at her.
Lena’s expression hardened.
“Those are not the same thing.” Orm said.
“I know.” Lena looked down at her silent phone.
“I miss her, I miss her even when she is still talking to me” Lena said.
Something in Orm’s face softened. This time, she did not tease.
“That sounds important.”
Lena hated how frightened the observation made her feel.
Miu called at 10:46 p.m.
Lena answered immediately.
“Hi.”
“Hi.”
There was noise behind Miu. A car door closing. The faint sound of keys.
“You said maybe tonight,” Lena said.
“I know.”
“It is almost eleven.” Lena heard the accusation in her own tone then she tried again.
“How was your day?”
“Long.”
“What happened?” Lena asked.
Miu told her, not everything. Just enough - a delayed shoot, a stylist who had brought the wrong shoes, a meeting that should have been an email instead.
Lena listened.
Usually, Miu would turn each incident into a performance. She would imitate people, exaggerate details and get distracted halfway through by another story. Tonight, she gave Lena the shortened version she usually gave everyone else.
The difference made Lena feel as though she was receiving an edited copy of Miu’s life. When Miu stopped speaking, silence entered the call. Lena waited for Miu to fill it. But Miu did not.
“Are you tired?” Lena asked.
“Yes.”
“Are you in bed?”
“Almost.”
“What are you wearing?” The question came automatically.
Miu went quiet. Lena remembered the grey t-shirt, the phone call after the first date, the way an innocent question had changed in the dark.
“Forget it,” Lena said quickly.
“Why?” Miu gave a small laugh.
The silence returned. Lena sat on the edge of her own bed then looked towards the empty space beside her.
“Are you going to sleep?”
“Yes.”
“Stay on the phone.” The request left again before she could stop it.
Miu did not answer immediately and Lena felt a new pattern forming between them.
Miu becoming tired.
Miu beginning to leave.
Lena reaching.
This time, Miu did not accuse her of it.
She only said, “I do not think I should.”
The refusal was gentle. It hurt anyway.
“Why?”
“I need to sleep.”
“You slept while we were on the phone before.”
“I know.”
“Then what is different?”
Lena knew the answer before Miu could say anything.
“Everything feels different right now.”
Lena looked down. The words were not angry.
“You do not have to make it different,” Lena said.
“I am not the one who did.” Miu’s reply came softly.
Lena had no answer. Miu released a tired sigh.
“Goodnight, Lee.”
The nickname eased some of the ache. Not enough, though.
“Goodnight.”
The call ended. Lena remained sitting on the edge of the bed then the screen went dark in her hand. For the first time, Miu had ended the night before Lena was ready. No argument, no punishment. Only a boundary Lena could not blame on anyone else.
She placed the phone beside her pillow and lay down. The bed felt too large again. Across the city, Miu stood beside her own bed with the phone still in her hand. She wanted to stay on the call, that had been the hardest part. Miu placed the phone face down and changed into one of Lena's old t-shirts. For one second, she imagined telling Lena. She imagined the silence that might follow, or even questions, but worse of them all, the possibility of Lena asking her to go over again.
Miu switched off the light and got into bed alone. The distance between their apartments had not changed. For the first time, both of them felt it.