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Chapter Text

As the birds started to chirp, signalling the dawn of a new day, Zazzalil finally opened her eyes and squinted at the light peeking through her hastily closed curtains. She hadn't gotten any sleep, nor had she expected to, yet the sheer amount of tiredness that hit her still surprised her.

Sitting up with a soft grunt, she immediately reached for her phone and checked the time. Five am. Ugh. She rubbed her eyes, still disoriented by the glaring screen, but checked her notifications despite this. There were a few missed calls from various friends and so many texts.

Nope. She wasn't dealing with that right now.

When she had gathered the strength, she dragged herself to the kitchen and made a bowl of cereal. It was simple and small, but she really couldn't manage more right now.

Finally, she scrolled through her phone and checked her texts. Keeri, Emberly, SB... There was only one person with whom she wanted to share how she felt right now. She clicked to call them and raised the phone to her ear, waiting for them to pick up.

"Zazz?" Keeri asked after only one ring. Clearly, they were pretty worried. She felt her heart sink as she remembered why. "Is that you?"

For a few moments, she was silent, contemplating her next words.

"Zazz?"

"Yeah, it's me." Her own voice sounded hoarse and exhausted- which, she supposed, reflected her status. "What's up?"

"We're worried about you," her best friend said without beating about the bush. Zazzalil loved her for that usually, but this morning it was not in her favour. "What happened last night?"

"Nothing really."

Keeri sighed loudly from the other end of the phone. "Zazz, you raced out of that party faster than SB when someone mentions food."

"That fast?"

"Don't dodge the question. What happened?"

Staring up at the ceiling, Zazzalil took a deep breath before just coming out with it. "Uh, you remember Clark? The hot guy who came in late last night?"

"Of course, how could I forget?" Keeri chuckled, and Zazzalil could sense her twirling her hair around a finger.

"Well, uh, turns out Jemilla also thought he was the shit," she muttered, recalling the incident.

It wasn't Clark's fault, or anyone's really. She'd just been dancing with her friends, trying to have fun and forget about her very recent breakup with Jemilla (due to some issues with a fire, no further explanation), when she'd seen her girlfri - ex standing in the corner and making out with Clark. Which one, was disgusting, and two, pained Zazzalil in a way she didn't really understand.

For a moment, she had just stared, hoping she was hallucinating or just extremely drunk, but it was too early in the party. Then, confused and hurt, she had backed away to the where the coats were and raced out of the venue before anyone could ask what had happened.

Keeri's voice came through again, more understanding now. "Oh, I saw that, I guess. She looked wasted, though."

"It doesn't matter," she lied, getting up to deposit her bowl and spoon in the sink. "It's not my business, we're not... together."

"It was still a recent breakup," Keeri reasoned, and though one part of Zazzalil's brain heartily agreed with this sentiment, a louder part reminded her that it was over.

"Yeah," she said, "but we're done. She made that clear." 'Especially last night' was implied.

After exhanging a few more words, Zazzalil hung up. She groaned, putting her head in her hands, and considered her next move. Nothing came to her usually inventive mind. She just wanted to lie in bed all day, maybe with some ice cream or cereal.

Oh, she realised. She really did care about Jemilla kissing other people, didn't she?

Fantastic. 

Chapter Text

Sitting at a table in the coffee shop, Jemilla warmed her fingers against her latte. The morning was just breaking, orange light spilling into the tired shop, and yet for some reason she was already pouring caffeine into her system.

Last night, she had somehow managed to have enough alcohol to wipe out her memory of the whole party. Vaguely, through the pain in her head, she could remember kissing someone. A lot. Hopefully it wasn't a stupid move.

As she sat there, the door swung open and in walked a familiar figure. Clark. Her acquaintance? Friend? He raised a hand in greeting, and she gave him a confused smile in response. As if sensing her unease, he altered his route to come and sit opposite her.

"You don't remember what happened last night, do you?" he asked, though his tone wasn't cold. When she shook her head, he continued, "I was at the party. And you, er, you spent quite some time with me last night."

She winced. "It was you?" Why did she have to forget that?

"It was." He cleared his throat. "Though I actually came to tell you it wasn't an unpleasant... experience."

Pausing, she carefully placed down her latte and raised an eyebrow. "Are you asking me out?"

"In a way," he said, wearing a small smile. "What do you say?"

Her heart missed a beat, but she wasn't sure quite why. Somewhere in the back of her mind, she remembered Zazzalil's face when she had told her they weren't going to work out just a week or so ago. But Clark was hot and known to be a very nice person, and if she remembered right, very good at kissing, so why not? It would help her move on faster, wouldn't it?

"Sure," she smiled, and Clark grinned.

"Awesome!"

They talked a little more, before she checked the time and swore.

"I have to go," she said apologetically, already standing up with her empty cup in hand. "See you later?"

He nodded and waved as she left.

As she walked down the street, she smiled a little to herself, rather content with how the day had gone so far. Having a latte, talking to a hot guy and being asked out by said hot guy. Not bad at all, Jemilla.

The sun was ascending quickly, draping the road in light and warmth. The flowers of early spring peeked out from the grass as if tentative and young. One particular set of daisies reminded Jemilla quite suddenly of an afternoon spent in a meadow, making daisy chains and flower crowns with all her friends, her girlfriend at her side rambling on about how to make the daisy chains stronger.

Blinking, Jemilla snapped herself out of the memory and remembered she had a commitment right now.
She took out her phone, about to check the time, when she bumped into someone and dropped it.

"Hey, watch where yo-" the other person started, before stopping suddenly. Jemilla looked up to see who it was, but they picked up her phone and stuffed it into her hands before quickly continuing on their way.

"Wait, what?"

Who had that been? Why had they hurried off? After a few moments, she shrugged and continued on her way. She soon forgot about the person and was wondering how mad Molag would be when she arrived late. Hopefully, she wouldn't pretend to keep falling over and making Jemilla pick her up again, because that had been annoying.

She entered the office, craving another coffee already, and looked around to try and find Molag.

"Hello?" The usually bustling room seemed empty, and nobody answered her question. Just as she was about to turn around and try to get another latte from the coffee machine, there was a crash from behind her and yelped.

Laughter alerted her to the presence of her boss, Molag, behind her. "I got you!"

"Very funny," Jemilla deadpanned, though she was secretly glad she hadn't been called out for being late. For a minute, she watched Molag wipe away her amused tears.

"Alright, we have work to do," Molag finally said, still chuckling, and Jemilla could sense the conversation coming to a close. "And no more coffee, before you ask."

"No!"

Chapter Text

As she continued down the road, hood up and hands buried deep in her pockets, Zazzalil did her best not to let her mind wander back to Jemilla. Somehow, however, so many things always came back to her. Too many memories together, she figured.

Passing a police officer who was glaring suspiciously, she realised it must look somewhat shady: a young woman walking down the street in a hoodie, a strongly negative expression on her face. Well, suspicion would never do. With a deep sigh, she pulled the hood back and tried to look more attentive. Finally, the officer looked away - she could thank her skin tone for the easy pass - and she slipped into the park.

She found a bench very quickly. It was far too early for children and families, so the few people walking around were either getting some exercise or hurrying to work. Work. Zazzalil had almost forgotten about hers, what with the chaos of last night, but she would need to get to the labs soon. Until then, she had about ten minutes to consider... everything.

Surely she could distract herself with something else. What had she been up to before Jemilla had swept into her life?

Well.

They had all met at a summer camp.

The day had been hot, and it seemed that the sun would not relent for even a moment. Neither, it seemed, would the cruelty of the director. While the teenagers were all digging out the trench for the new summer house being built, the camp director was sipping lemonade filled with ice and scrolling through something on his phone. Every time any of them tried to leave or take a break, he would start yelling, and the doling out of punishments followed soon after.

It was there in the metre-deep trench that Zazzalil started to work her way through the group, learning their names, their likes and dislikes, their motivations. Soon enough, almost everyone had become good friends with her. Of course, the uptight Jemilla saw right through Zazzalil's plan, and kept sending her glares and rebuffing her attempts to befriend her. Nevertheless, the group were now almost all ready to claim back their summer and a little bit of rest. Only one difficult task remained.

The second Wednesday, Zazzalil remembered, was the day that she had finished the construction of her invention. It had taken days of careful sneaking about and planning, but here it was: the Tyrant Trap.

As she adjusted the mechanism, she heard someone approach behind her and spun around. Fuck, it was the director.

"What do you think you're doing?"

"I-" She glanced at it. "I was just fixing up the lock, it wasn't working very well."

He only stared at her, looking entirely unconvinced. "Explain exactly what this is, now, or else I'll-"

"She's telling the truth!"

The two of them looked around, confused, and saw Jemilla approaching.

Coming up to Zazzalil and patting the Tyrant Trap, Jemilla started talking about something to do with how it had been broken and the 'others were complaining' and Zazzalil 'simply didn't want to inconvenience the director', and Zazzalil found herself going along with it, nodding. In the end, the director huffed and left to make himself a cocktail, leaving the pair with the Trap.

"Thanks," Zazzallil said.

With a chuckle, Jemilla responded, "Well, I guess I decided to join your cause. Come on, finish up your... thing... and we'll get back to the site."

And so the plan had been executed. Of course, there were some complications, but having Jemilla on their side ended up being an advantage. Soon enough, they were all eating ice cream and watching the director being dragged out by his superiors.

Those friends had lasted through the rest of high school, and then university, and then beyond. Jemilla had been much closer to her heart than the others - except Keeri, of course, who would always be her best friend - and yet it seemed that she had lost that recently.

See? All her thoughts kept going back to her.

With a final, calming breath, Zazzalil stood up and went on her way to the labs, where she could finally lose herself in the wonder of her imagination and the possibilities open to her.

Chapter Text

It was several weeks later, once work had eased to give way to the lazy nature of the summer holidays, that the two crossed paths again. It was a hot day, the sun rising up from the horizon and boiling all those in the streets like small potatoes in a hot pan of bubbling water. However, there was no bubbling, no excitement, no energy, just stifling heat and the gentlest breeze that caressed Jemilla's skin as she walked arm in arm with her boyfriend.

The pair had been on several dates, and they got on extraordinarily well. It was astonishing how soon they had picked up each other's expressions and formed many inside jokes. Her friends were already whispering about marriage - a little too soon, Jemilla thought - and some were convinced the pair had secretly been dating for months now.

Which wasn't true. Not at all. Because before, there had been Zazzalil, and Jemilla wouldn't trade those years with her for anything.

Not the time, she reminded herself, determined to not let the sun pierce through her common sense.

The two entered the vast building at the end of the street. The roof and walls were primarily composed of glass and long metal beams, and it was difficult to see what was inside beyond the thick vegetation all over the glass. The greenhouses stretched out over and around the central building, creating a dome.

"Here we are," Clark said, and led her in. After signing them in and collecting a few leaflets about how to get around, he asked her politely if he could go and as for a specific herbal remedy. "I'll be right back, have a look around! See you soon, babe."

"Bye, babe," she responded.

She waited for a minute, not wanting to wander into the maze of winding plants alone, but soon simply standing in the heat alone became too much for her and she began to follow the path.

At each fork, she paused to remember it and evaluate what the best path was, before continuing slowly along. The plants began bare and simple, but the deeper she went, the more beautiful and complex the plants got. Spirals and patterns she could barely remember from Zazzalil's excited explanations long ago, bright red and yellow flowers that reminded her of their apartment's theme.

Speak of the devil.

Of course she was here today, the day hot enough to remind her of her ex-girlfriend's fiery spirit and the day with so many other signs. Not that Jemilla believed in some kind of fate, just that it was the style of Zazzalil to defy logic.

"Oh! Jemilla!" She looked surprised. Happy. But happy that she was in her element in the warmth, happy to see Jemilla, or happy without her? "How have you been?"

It took a second for her to find her voice, though she wasn't quite sure why. "Good. Thanks. Uh, you?" She fidgeted with the leaflet in her hand, glancing at it to pretend to be occupied, though she was sure it wasn't working. "How are things in the labs?"

"They're awesome," Zazzalil said, and the way her face split into a fond grin was both disorienting and wonderful at the same time - intoxicating, like alcohol but inducing coherence rather than taking it away. What had happened? Why did Jemilla feel this way? She didn't still love her. Not that way.

Did she?

The two slowly eased into conversation. Zazzalil seemed faster than ever, making her points and hopping around the discussion nimbly, while Jemilla did her best to keep up. How much had she missed, exactly? But still, the conversation flowed, and it never felt stagnant or awkward. To Jemilla, that didn't make much sense, but she was glad for it. She had really missed her, as a friend at least.

"We should meet up soon. Ice cream parlour, maybe?" she suggested, and Zazzalil visibly brightened.

"Yeah! When?"

Just as Jemilla began to respond, she heard a rustle behind her and Clark emerged from one path, holding two green smoothies and glaring at Zazzalil. He passed a smoothie to Jemilla and sipped at his own for ten seconds before finally speaking.

"Ready to go on?" he said, and for once it sounded a little more of a statement. Jemilla frowned at him, unsure as to why he was suddenly acting so out of character.

"Sure?"

Zazzalil, who had also gone quite quiet, nodded and waved to Jemilla, her mood clearly dampened. "Bye."

"See y-"

And she was gone. How had she disappeared so quickly? And why?

She barely got time to wonder, because Clark was suddenly smiling at her and explaining what he had been up to, leaving Jemilla in the dark, walking through a dome of watching plants.