Archive of Our Own ^beta

Zoey Yoo, also known as goody-two-shoes Zoey, is that one friend who’s had zero romantic experience. 

Zero love life, zero sex life. Just a clean slate.

Was Zoey bothered by it?

Not even a little.

But her friends?

Absolutely.

“You’re going to die alone at this rate!” Rumi gasps, flopping dramatically onto Zoey’s dorm bed like a dying swan. Zoey doesn’t even flinch. She calmly continues typing away at her assignment, earbuds in, patience thinning.

“You’ll never experience love,” Jinu adds, just as over-the-top. 

“Never feel the joy Rumi and I share.” 

He yanks Zoey’s curtain from the window and wraps it dramatically around his neck like a scarf of grief. Zoey lets out a long, silent sigh. She pulls out her earbuds, drops her pen onto the desk, and gets up. Without a word, she walks over, unwinds the curtain from Jinu’s neck, grabs both him and Rumi by the wrists, and herds them toward the door.

“I have a test to study for. Bye.”

SLAM.

The door shuts in their faces.

Outside, the couple flinch. 

Inside, Zoey runs a hand through her hair and exhales slowly, shaking her head at her friends’ theatrics.

She doesn’t get it. Why are they so obsessed with her love life when she clearly isn’t? She’s perfectly content finishing school in peace. 

No distractions. 

No messy emotions. 

Just grades, music practice, and sleep—if she’s lucky.

Sure, people have confessed to her before. Some even tried to flirt. 

But her heart never fluttered, not once. 

No skipped beats. 

No butterflies. 

According to Rumi and Jinu, she’s “ emotionally immune .”

And frankly, she’s fine with that.

With her calendar jam-packed with rehearsals, coursework, and barely any time to breathe, romance is the last thing on Zoey Yoo’s mind.

Heading over to her bi-weekly dinner session with Rumi and Jinu, Zoey braces herself for the barrage of questions she knows they’ve prepared.

As the youngest in the friend group—and the only one still stuck in school—Zoey doesn’t have the luxury of seeing them often. Rumi and Jinu run a cozy café just a few blocks from her university, yet not once has Zoey dropped by. She’s always avoided it, afraid that if she sat down, she’d get pulled into conversation instead of finishing her work.

Tonight’s dinner? A compromise she couldn’t dodge.

She exhales sharply, pulling her violin case closer as she quickens her pace. Being late is the last thing she wants—not just because she hates it, but because punctuality is her only shield against another surprise dorm invasion from the couple.

Pushing open the glass door of the restaurant, the warmth and low hum of chatter greet her. Her eyes scan the room until they land on Rumi and Jinu seated by the window, already mid-conversation and sharing a plate of something fluffy and golden.

Zoey raises a hand in greeting, offering a small wave before sliding into the seat across from them.

“Sorry I’m late,” she says out of habit, even though she isn’t.

Rumi grins wide, “We were starting to think you ghosted us again.”

Zoey sighs, shoulders already tensing. This dinner was supposed to be a break—yet something tells her she’s walked straight into a trap.

“If I did want another unexpected dorm room invasion and my roommate giving me the silent treatment for the next few days, sure, I wouldn’t mind ghosting you two,” Zoey says with a sweet smile, accepting the cup of cold water Jinu just poured for her.

“Shut up, you miss us too,” Rumi replies, rolling her eyes but grinning as she props her chin on her hand.

“Say,” Jinu adds, swirling his straw thoughtfully, “you always bring up this mysterious roommate of yours, but we’ve never actually seen her. Are we sure she exists? Or is she just a convenient excuse to keep us out?”

“Really?” Zoey deadpans, staring at him over the rim of her glass.

“I’m just saying,” Jinu shrugs, “it’s suspicious. We could be getting catfished by an imaginary roommate.”

“She’s real,” Zoey mutters. “She just has the common sense to avoid my overly dramatic friends.”

“I think she sounds iconic,” Rumi grins, “We should meet her. Double date, maybe?”

Zoey chokes slightly on her water, “What— double what?”

“Double date!” Rumi gasps, eyes lighting up, “That’s such a great idea. Oh my god, Jinu, you’re a genius.”

“Of course I am,” Jinu coos, winking at her as he rests his chin on his hand in mock flirtation.

Zoey leans back slowly, her face scrunching in visible disgust, “Ew. Get a room.”

Rumi grins, unfazed. “We have one. It just doesn’t come with free dinner and an audience.”

“Seriously,” Zoey mutters, reaching for the menu and using it like a shield, “Keep it PG for the sake of my GPA.”

“Okay, but in all seriousness,” Jinu says, tilting his head, “Zoey, are you really not going to find someone?”

“You’re entering your mid-twenties—one year before your frontal lobe fully develops. Are you sure you don’t want to embark on some kind of highway highlife dating experience? You know, figure out what you want in a relationship before everything in your brain gets locked in and you can never fix it?”

Zoey blinks at him, “Did you just try to neuroscience me into dating?”

“Yes,” Jinu says proudly, “And I stand by it.”

“Look,” Zoey says, clearly exasperated, “I don’t understand why you two are so insistent on me getting a partner. Can’t we just have one peaceful dinner where we talk about—oh, I don’t know—my musical talents ? My songwriting side hustle? Literally anything else?”

She punctuates her rant by angrily shoving a piece of garlic bread into her mouth, chewing like it personally offended her.

“You look tense, hunny,” Rumi says suddenly, squinting at Zoey like she’s inspecting a cracked phone screen. 

“All that schooling’s got you stressed out. Tense !”

“What?” Zoey blinks, “Tense?”

“Yeah. You just need to relax,” Rumi says, wiggling her eyebrows suggestively at Jinu before turning back to Zoey with two fingers raised in a suggestive sign that is anything but peaceful. 

“From whoever, or yourself, babes.”

Zoey chokes on her garlic bread mid-bite, “ What the fuck ?!”

“Whoa—honestly, yeah, Zoey,” Jinu chimes in, grinning supportively. 

“You totally swing everywhere. You’ve got options .”

“Jesus, Rumi! Stop it !” Zoey hisses, reaching across the table to yank Rumi’s hands down before she can do anything else obscene. 

Rumi bursts into laughter, collapsing into Jinu’s side as tears start pooling at the corners of her eyes.

Jinu just sits there, sipping his drink and watching the whole scene unfold like it’s his favorite sitcom rerun.

“If I say I have a partner, will you two finally stop bothering me about it?” Zoey asks suddenly, voice flat but serious. Rumi nearly snorts water through her nose.

“ LMAO ! Why the sudden question? Don’t tell me you’ve been hiding a partner and didn’t share it with us?” she says mid-laughter, eyes wide with mock betrayal.

“Yeah,” Zoey says, her voice suddenly dead serious, “I’ve been hiding one.”

Jinu’s grin falters, “Wait— seriously ?”

That’s enough to make Rumi sit up straighter, laughter gone in an instant.

“No way,” she says, narrowing her eyes, “Who?”

Zoey blinks, then blurts out without thinking, “Mira.”

The name hangs in the air.

“ Mira who?” Jinu frowns, clearly confused.

“That mysterious roommate you two have never seen before—the one you keep questioning if she even exists? Yeah, she’s real. Her name’s Mira, and I’m dating her,” Zoey sighs, sounding both exasperated and resigned.

Rumi’s eyes narrow suspiciously.

“Wait, so you’ve been lying this whole time? Keeping her all hush-hush and mysterious just so we wouldn’t find out you’re dating her?”

Zoey rolls her eyes and rubs the back of her neck, trying to stay calm, “I’m not lying. I just didn’t think it mattered because—”

“OH MY GOD! MY BABY IS GOING TO GET LAID!” Rumi suddenly screams in a sing-song voice, drawing horrified stares from half the restaurant. Zoey facepalms hard, already regretting ever telling them she had a girlfriend.

“Keep it down, oh my god...” Zoey mumbles, burying her face in her hands to hide from the secondhand embarrassment.

“Babes, please,” Jinu pleads, the voice of reason for once, shooting a warning glance at Rumi. 

“People are watching.”

“Since when did you start dating her?” Rumi asks excitedly, though Jinu quickly pulls her back down into her seat.

“A month ago,” Zoey replies quietly.

“Oh my god,” Jinu gasps, playfully covering his mouth with his hand while shooting a knowing look at Rumi. 

“Did you get a girlfriend right after we bugged you that day while you were studying for exams?”

“Have you guys gone on any dates?” Rumi smirks, already suspecting Zoey’s ‘girlfriend’ is totally fake.

“Yeah, we’ve been to her place a few times. I even took her to our favorite ice cream spot,” Zoey says, pulling from a memory of bringing her niece to that same place. Hey, if she’s going to bluff, she might as well make it sound convincing.

“Wow…” Rumi trails off, starting to buy the story.

Jinu just leans back, chin resting on his palm, a proud smile spreading across his face as he listens.

“I didn’t even need to neuroscience you into this,” Jinu says in mock awe, “You got that girl before I even tried.”

“Well, I guess we’re gonna have that double date real soon, huh?” he adds, glancing between Rumi and Zoey.

“First round of double dates is on me,” Jinu offers with a proud smile.

Zoey quickly smiles, eager to change the subject, “Yeah, you know what? Let’s talk about something else!”

-

It’s late at night, and Zoey is still up, rushing to finish her assignment before music practice. A loud sigh escapes her as she throws her head back in frustration.

Before she can vent any further, a calm, stoic voice cuts through the quiet:

“Keep it down, will you?”

Zoey jumps, spinning around to see her roommate sitting up on the upper bunk, headphones in her hands, eyes narrowed.

“You’re back?!” Zoey blurts out.

“This is my room,” Mira replies with a frown, slipping her headphones back on and leaning down into her bed.

“Wait!” Zoey calls, scrambling up the ladder.

“Don’t sleep!” she insists, lightly patting Mira’s leg to get her attention.

“Why are you back?” Zoey asks, genuine curiosity in her voice.

“To sleep,” Mira answers, clearly bewildered by the question.

Zoey shifts awkwardly on the ladder, suddenly unsure of what to say next.

“Well… uh, I just wanted to check in. You know, since we’re roommates and all.” 

Mira pulls one headphone off, eyeing Zoey with mild curiosity. 

“Roommates,” she repeats softly, almost like testing the word.

“Yeah,” Zoey says quickly, “I know we don’t talk much, but maybe…we could? I don’t know, hang out sometime?”

Mira shrugs, voice quiet but honest, “I’m not really good at hanging out.”

Zoey laughs nervously, nodding, “Me neither.”

There’s a pause.

“So, what do you usually do when you’re not sleeping or avoiding me?” Zoey ventures.

Mira shrugs again, “Listen to music. Mostly.”

Zoey smiles, “Same. Maybe that’s why we haven’t clashed yet.”

Mira’s expression softens just a fraction, “Maybe.”

Zoey glances at the clock, “I should probably get back to my assignment.”

Mira nods, pulling her headphone back on, “Good idea.”

Zoey hesitates a moment, then calls softly, “Good night, Mira.”

“Night,” Mira replies without looking up.

Zoey climbs down, the small exchange lingering in the quiet room.

The shrill blare of Zoey’s alarm jolts me awake, stabbing through the fog of sleep. She groans, tangled in her sheets, and instinctively rolls over—only to slip and tumble straight out of bed.

“Oof,” Zoey mutters, sitting up and rubbing the sleep from her eyes.

Just as she wants to groan out an apology for the noise, she glances at Mira’s bed. It’s perfectly made—no sign she’s been there.

Her brow furrows.

She’s pretty sure she was here last night. Where did she go so early?

Zoey stands, stretching her stiff limbs, curiosity prickling at the back of her head. 

Maybe She’ll find her around the dorm. Or maybe not.

Either way, the day’s already started without her.

-

“Please finish your assignment and submit it by 6:30 p.m. in two weeks. Any late submissions will not be marked or recorded in your report.”

Zoey lets out a relieved sigh as the class finally ends. She leans back in her chair and starts to turn toward the window—then freezes.

There’s Mira.

Zoey sits up straight, surprised. She hadn’t realized Mira was in the same class. Mira is busy shoving her studying materials into her large duffel bag, focused and brisk.

“Mira,” Zoey whispers, quickly standing to approach her. 

Before Mira can move away from her table, Zoey reaches out and gently grabs her arm.

“Hey, wait!”

“Make it quick,” Mira says coldly, pulling her arm free with a frown, “I have swimming training.”

This isn’t the Mira from a few nights ago. This Mira is colder, more distant.

Zoey quickly lets go, wiping her hands discreetly on her side, hoping to hide her nervousness.

“I have a favor to ask,” Zoey says, standing awkwardly, unsure how to explain that Mira is supposed to be her fake girlfriend.

“What?” Mira replies, crossing her arms and tapping her foot impatiently.

“I’m… uh, are you keen on fake dating me?” Zoey blurts out quickly, eyes squeezed shut, too afraid to meet Mira’s reaction.

A scoff escapes Mira’s lips before she turns sharply to leave, silently thinking her roommate has lost her mind.

“So…?” Zoey trails off, nervously opening her eyes.

Her eyes widened in surprise—Mira’s gone. The lecture hall is empty except for her.

Zoey quickly grabs her things and rushes out, ignoring the curious stares as she makes a beeline for the swimming pool.

Once she reaches the school’s swimming pool, Zoey makes a beeline for the women’s changing room. She keeps her head low as she navigates through, nerves prickling.

It doesn’t take long before she literally bumps into Mira—midway out of her clothes.

“What the hell are you doing here?!” Mira snaps, quickly grabbing her towel to wrap around herself.

“I’m here to look for you!” Zoey squeaks, shielding her eyes with one hand.

Mira exhales deeply, muttering “Relax, relax…” under her breath, trying to steady her racing heart.

“I’m not interested in fake dating you,” Mira says bluntly, leaning against her locker with a bored expression.

Zoey peers through the gaps between her fingers and catches the unmistakable disinterest on Mira’s face.

“Why not?!” Zoey gasps, feeling suddenly offended.

“There are people lining up to date me!” Zoey declares, puffing out her chest.

“I’m the whole package! A total baddie, serving looks, and I can—I swear—I can kill a cockroach without screaming! I’m strong, too. I could lift you up like it’s nothing!”

“What?!” Mira scoffs, struggling not to laugh.

“Well, okay, Zoey the baddie,” she mocks with a smirk, “I’m not keen on dating anyone. Let alone fake dating my roommate.”

“Besides,” Mira adds, folding her arms, “have you seen yourself in private? You’re definitely the last person on my list to be even dating.”

Zoey blinks, momentarily stunned. Her cheeks flush red, but she quickly masks it with a crooked grin.

“Oh, that’s how it’s going to be, huh? Throwing shade and calling me last on your list?”

She crosses her arms defiantly, standing her ground despite the sting of Mira’s words.

“Fine. Maybe I’m not your type. But I’m not backing down that easily.”

Mira raises an eyebrow, clearly amused by Zoey’s stubbornness, “Good. Because if you think fake dating me will be easy, you’re dead wrong.”

She steps closer, voice low but teasing, “And if you want to survive, you better start practicing. You’ll need it.”

Zoey smirks, a spark of challenge lighting her eyes, “Bring it on.”

“What the fuck did I just get myself into?” Zoey mutters, staring at her reflection in the dorm mirror.

“Why did I have to provoke Mira into a challenge?!” she winces, running a hand through her hair. 

“This was supposed to be some simple arrangement she’d just say ‘yes’ to—and then I’d move on.”

Zoey paces the small dorm bathroom, glancing nervously at her reflection in the mirror.

Okay, Zoey , she tells herself, voice barely above a whisper. 

You can do this. It’s just fake dating. How hard can it be?

She shakes her head, frustration bubbling up again.

But Mira… She bites her lip. 

She’s not just going to say yes and play along nicely. She’s fierce. Cold. She’s nothing like me.

Zoey sighs and mutters under her breath, “What the hell am I even thinking?”

Suddenly, the bathroom door creaks open.

Mira appears in the doorway, leaning casually against the frame, arms crossed with a smirk tugging at her lips.

“Talking to yourself now, Zoey?” Mira teases, eyes gleaming with amusement.

Zoey jumps, cheeks flushing bright red, “I—uh—I wasn’t talking to myself!”

Mira steps inside, crossing the room with effortless grace, “Relax. I’m just saying, if you’re going to fake date me, you better get used to hearing your own voice.”

Zoey groans, burying her face in her hands, “Great. Just great.”

“Just saying,” Mira begins, her tone lazy but amused, “if you want me to agree and play nice with this whole fake dating shenanigan, you really need to step up your game when it comes to asking someone out.”

She tilts her head, watching Zoey with an almost smug curiosity, “Running into the women’s locker room and trying to catch me off-guard naked? Not exactly the smoothest move.”

Zoey squints at her. 

“What was I supposed to do?” she asks, voice rising in exasperation.

Mira shrugs, “Maybe take your own advice and practice how to ask someone out properly first?”

Zoey throws her arms out, “And who am I supposed to practice with?”

Mira grins, stepping just a little closer, eyes glinting.

“I don’t know… maybe start by asking me out on a date?” she teases, voice low, lips curled into a smirk.

Zoey blinks, caught completely off guard. She straightens her spine, lifts her chin, and tries her best to channel whatever smooth confidence she thinks she has.

“Okay, fine,” she says, voice a little too high-pitched. “Mira Hong…would you like to, um, go on a fake…no—a real-fake date with me?”

Mira blinks once. Then twice.

Zoey attempts a smirk, but it comes out more like a grimace, “I mean. Just to, you know, practice. For the thing. Not that I care or anything. Totally casual. Very chill. Normal.”

A beat of silence.

Mira stares at her for a moment, lips twitching—then bursts out laughing.

“Oh my god,” she says between giggles, clutching her side, “That was painful.”

Zoey crosses her arms, cheeks burning, “I was practicing!”

Mira wipes a tear from the corner of her eye, still grinning, “Yeah, well… keep practicing.”

She grabs her bag from the desk, slings it over her shoulder, and heads for the door.

“See you around, Baddie ,” she says, flashing Zoey a wink before disappearing into the hallway.

Zoey flops face-first onto her bed with a loud groan, “What the hell is wrong with me.”

-

The next day, Mira is making her way to class when, out of nowhere, someone grabs her by the arm and pulls her into a sudden spin. She stumbles straight into a pair of arms. Mira looks up, startled—only to find Zoey grinning down at her, hands confidently (and unnecessarily) around her waist.

“Morning, beautiful,” Zoey purrs, brushing a loose strand of Mira’s hair behind her ear like she’s in some low-budget romcom.

Mira freezes. Then squeals.

“What on earth are you doing?!” she yelps, shoving Zoey back like she’s allergic to drama.

Zoey blinks, confused, “Chasing you?!”

“That’s not how you chase someone!” Mira snaps, adjusting her bag and turning on her heel, stomping down the now very empty hallway. Zoey is left standing there, stunned and vaguely offended. She puts her hands on her hips, muttering to herself.

“What the hell am I doing?” she groans, dramatically turning in a circle, “Why is she being so difficult?! Gosh!”

A teacher walks by and raises a brow at her.

Zoey gives a sheepish wave, “Roleplay exercise. Drama major. Totally normal.”

The teacher walks off silently.

Zoey sighs again, “Okay. Back to the drawing board.”

Mira trudges out of her classroom, finally free from her grueling morning lecture. Her shoulders ache, and all she can think about is diving into the pool and letting the water soothe her sore muscles after last night’s intense workout.

She’s just making her way toward the swimming complex when—

“ STOP! ”

Zoey jumps out in front of her, arms spread wide like she’s trying to block a moving truck. Mira halts mid-step, sighing deeply as she fights the urge to turn around and walk the other way.

“What do you want now ?” Mira mutters, eyeing Zoey suspiciously.

She takes in Zoey’s appearance—there’s a band-aid stuck to her forehead, and the corner of her lipstick is smeared like she applied it in the dark.

“Remember?” Zoey says with a proud grin, finger guns blazing. “I’m a baddie .”

Mira stares, unimpressed.

Zoey quickly turns around and yanks an asthma inhaler out of her pocket. She takes a puff, then dramatically exhales a cold breath in Mira’s direction.

“I look cool, right? I smoke too,” she announces proudly, taking another puff like she’s some delinquent in a drama series.

Mira scoffs, “You look like a fool.”

She steps to the side to walk past her, but Zoey quickly darts forward to block her again.

“Wait—that’s not all!” Zoey insists, her chest puffed out, “I can kill cockroaches too! Watch.”

She pulls a fake rubber cockroach from her pocket and throws it on the ground with flair, then proceeds to stomp on it like she’s in a turf war. Mira closes her eyes and pinches the bridge of her nose. If Zoey wasn’t embarrassed, she certainly was—for both of them.

“Wait,” Mira says suddenly, reaching forward to stop Zoey mid-stomp.Zoey freezes and watches, confused, as Mira calmly picks up the fake cockroach from the floor.

Before Zoey can ask what she’s doing—

“HEY—!”

Mira tosses the cockroach at her.

“AHHH! WHAT THE HELL!” Zoey screams, jumping back like she’s been shot. She frantically brushes herself down, patting her arms and legs like she’s on fire.

Mira drops to the ground, laughing so hard she actually folds in on herself.

Zoey freezes.

She’s never seen Mira like this. 

Not the composed, cold, straight-faced Mira she’s used to. 

This Mira is red-faced, tears streaming down her cheeks, arms wrapped around her stomach as she howls with laughter—wide smile, dimples and all.

Zoey stares, stunned.

It hits her all at once—how rare this is. And how lucky she feels to be the reason behind it.

“You’re something else, Zoey,” Mira manages between laughs, slowly trying to stand as her giggles subside.

“Come on,” Mira says, still chuckling as she grabs Zoey by the wrist. “Let’s get you back to our dorm before someone starts thinking I’m involved in some kind of crackhead behavior.”

She gently tugs Zoey in the opposite direction of the swimming complex, clearly abandoning her original plan for a swim.

Zoey stumbles a bit, blinking in surprise, “Wait, are you actually walking with me? Like… voluntarily?”

“Don’t ruin it,” Mira mutters, though the small smile tugging at her lips says otherwise.

“Did it work though?” Zoey asks hopefully as they walk side by side.

“No, Baddie. It did not, ” Mira replies flatly, “That was embarrassing—for both of us.”

Zoey sighs dramatically, “Dang it.”

There’s a beat of silence before Mira adds under her breath, “But it was kind of funny.”

Zoey perks up, “Wait, what was that?”

“Nothing,” Mira says quickly, eyes forward.

Zoey grins like she’s just won a trophy, “You laughed. You actually laughed. That’s basically a win.”

“Don’t get cocky,” Mira mutters, but the corner of her mouth twitches.

Zoey gasps, grabbing Mira’s arm dramatically, “Oh my god, you liked it.”

Mira groans, “I didn’t say that.”

“You smiled , Mira. I saw it. You cracked. The Ice Queen is melting!” Zoey teases, skipping a step ahead just to grin at her more obnoxiously.

Mira gives her a dry look, “I smiled at your humiliation, not your joke.”

“Still counts! A win is a win!,” Zoey chirps, walking backwards now, hands behind her head. 

“Today is the day Zoey Yoo made Mira Hong laugh. Historic.”

“You tripped over your own shoe and screamed over a fake bug,” Mira deadpans, “That’s what’s going in the history books?”

Zoey pretends to flip imaginary hair, “Legends have to start somewhere.”

Mira shakes her head, lips twitching, “You’re insufferable.”

“Yet you’re walking me home,” Zoey points out.

Mira sighs, long-suffering, “Unfortunately.”

But she doesn’t let go of Zoey’s wrist.

-

“Miraaaaaa!” Zoey calls out, voice bouncing across the path.

Mira stops and turns, watching as Zoey jogs up to her, slightly out of breath but grinning like she just won the lottery. In each hand, she holds a can of coffee.

“For you,” Zoey says brightly, taking Mira’s hand and placing one of the cans into her palm with theatrical care. Mira glances down—and pauses. It’s her favorite brand, the exact one she always gets. Her heart skips a beat. She brushes it off quickly, fingers curling around the can.

“Thanks,” she says casually, though her voice is softer than usual. Then she starts walking again, Zoey falling easily into step beside her.

“Where did you go?” Zoey asks after a beat, her tone light but curious, “You left really early in the morning.”

“Training,” Mira replies simply, popping the tab on the can and taking a sip. She blinks. The coffee somehow tastes a little sweeter than usual—like the warmth is laced with something extra. Suspicion flickers through her. 

Did Zoey mess with this? 

But the flavour’s still exactly what she likes, so she doesn’t question it too much.

“Can I watch?” Zoey blurts out.

Mira glances at her, surprised. Then she nods, “Yeah.”

“ Really ?” Zoey beams, eyes wide.

“Yeah,” Mira says again, finishing off the can. Before she can toss it, Zoey quickly pushes the second can toward her like a proud, overprepared girlfriend. Mira chuckles this time—actually chuckles—and takes it with a small shake of her head.

Zoey blushes, rubbing at the back of her neck. 

“I’ll cheer for you,” she says shyly, looking anywhere but at Mira.

“Really?” Mira asks, a small, genuine smile creeping onto her face.

Zoey nods eagerly, pumping her fist, “Loud and proud.”

“Then make sure you cheer loudly ,” Mira says, her voice half-challenge, half-playful. She turns and heads into the changing room, leaving a very red-faced Zoey standing at the entrance of the swimming complex.

“I will!” Zoey calls after her, voice cracking slightly.

Inside, Mira hears it— of course she hears it. And as she changes into her swimsuit, a small grin tugs at her lips, one she doesn’t bother hiding this time.

Zoey kept her promise.

She cheered the loudest for Mira, so loud that by the end of the swim meet, her voice was practically gone. Mira had to hide her red face behind her towel when Zoey ran up to her, beaming like she’d just won the Olympics herself.

“You swam so well!” Zoey gushes, snatching Mira’s towel and immediately starting to dry her off like an overenthusiastic mom.

Mira stands frozen, too caught off-guard to protest. Her heart thuds in her chest when she notices the little frown on Zoey’s face—the girl is completely focused, brows furrowed in concentration as she gently pats Mira’s arm dry.

Why does she look so serious about drying my elbow?

“Why did you ask me to be your fake girlfriend?” Mira asks suddenly, the question slipping out before she could stop herself.

Zoey’s hands paused mid-dab.

“Because… you were the first person I thought of,” Zoey admits, voice low, “They caught me off guard and I panicked. Your name just… came out.”

Mira blinks.

“Oh…” she murmurs, feeling something tug at her chest. She nods slowly.

Zoey goes back to drying her off, more gently now.

Then Mira asks again, this time quieter, “What happens when the fake dating ends?”

Zoey purses her lips, thinking for a second, “I guess we go back to being friends? Or roommates. Until we graduate from uni, I mean.”

She said it casually, not even looking up. Mira felt the color drain from her face.

She reaches out and stops Zoey’s hand, her grip firm. Without a word, she snatches the towel back and turns on her heel, marching toward her duffle bag.

“Mira?” Zoey blinks, watching her go, “Did I say something wrong?”

Zoey scratches the back of her head, completely oblivious to the emotional landmine she’d just stepped on.

Meanwhile, in the changing room, Mira tosses her bag onto the wooden bench and slumps down beside it. She buries her face in her hands before pulling at her hair with a low groan.

“Why did I react like that?” she mutters under her breath, “Get it together.”

But her chest still ached. 

Because for a moment, even if it is fake, she’d liked being someone Zoey thought of first.

“Mira,” Zoey calls out softly as she opens the door to their dorm room.

The room is dark except for the glow of Mira’s laptop screen. Her silhouette is barely visible, back turned, headphones in.

Zoey steps in cautiously. 

“Are you mad at me?” she asks again, her voice a little hesitant.

No response.

With a sigh, Zoey walks over and climbs up onto the bed. Mira turns slightly, startled, yanking off her headphones when she sees Zoey crawling toward her.

“What are you doing ?” Mira asks, eyes wide as Zoey closes the space between them.

Zoey stops just shy of lying on top of her, her face earnest and brows furrowed in concern, “Did I say something wrong? Are you mad at me?”

Her voice is soft, almost apologetic, and somehow that makes it worse. Mira suddenly finds herself very, very aware of how close Zoey is—her breath warm, her knees bracketing either side of Mira’s legs.

Their position is…unfortunate. To say the least.

“N-no!” Mira stammers, hands flying to Zoey’s shoulders to try and push her away, “Get off me!”

“But I’m worried ,” Zoey says, clearly oblivious to the compromising position. 

“You’ve been ignoring me all day, and I—”

“ Zoey .” Mira hisses, “I’m literally under you right now.”

Zoey blinks. 

Look down. 

Then very slowly, her eyes widened in realization.

“ Oh .”

She scrambles back with a yelp, nearly rolling off the bunk in the process. Mira catches her wrist just in time to keep her from crashing to the floor.

They freeze.

Zoey’s face is bright red. Mira’s isn’t much better.

“…So,” Zoey mumbles, eyes on the ceiling, “You’re not mad at me?”

Mira sighs, still holding her wrist, “I wasn’t.”

They sit in silence, the air thick with embarrassment, tension, and something neither of them wants to name just yet.

“Uhm. I—I, uh… I made us dinner,” Zoey blurts out, voice higher than usual as she scrambles to remember any reason to justify her crawling into Mira’s bed like a sleep-deprived raccoon.

Mira raises an eyebrow, still catching her breath, “Dinner?”

“Yeah! I made extra. I couldn’t finish. So now it’s our dinner,” Zoey rushes out, eyes darting anywhere but Mira’s face. 

“I’ll see you outside.”

Before Mira can say anything else, Zoey quickly pulls her wrist free, scrambles down the ladder, and bolts out of the room like it’s on fire.

Mira sits there, stunned.

Then, slowly, a smile tugs at the corner of her lips.

-

“Zoey?”

Mira calls out as she steps into their dorm room. The lights are off, the space unusually quiet.

She frowns. Zoey always gets home before her. No matter how often Mira crashes elsewhere—sometimes in her own bed, sometimes in someone else's—Zoey is reliably in by nightfall, tucked in, studying, or passed out with her sheet music all over the floor.

“Zoey Yoo?” she calls again, walking further in.

There’s no answer. But when she reaches their shared bedroom, Mira spots a note left neatly on her desk. She picks it up, immediately recognizing Zoey’s messy scrawl:

Went to rehearsal for my recital next week! Might be late. Don’t wait up :) – Z.

Mira stares at the note for a second longer than necessary. Then she gently places it back down.

A small part of her—the one she doesn't like listening to—wonders why the room feels colder when Zoey’s not in it.

"I wonder if she’s eaten," Mira murmurs to herself, eyes lingering on the note Zoey left behind. With a quiet sigh, she drops her bag by the door, grabs her keys, and heads out—impulsively, but not without purpose. 

A surprise visit won't hurt, right?

Mira loiters in the hallway of the music building, whistling softly to herself—a familiar tune she’s been quietly working on for weeks. In one hand, she swings a bag of takeout, the comforting scent of Zoey’s favorite dinner wafting up. Every time she passes a room, she peeks in, eyes scanning for any sign of Zoey, hopeful but trying not to seem too obvious.

Just then, Mira hears a familiar melody drifting from a room up ahead. The door is slightly ajar, letting the sound float clearly into the hallway—gentle, haunting, and undeniably Zoey.

She slows her steps.

There Zoey is.

Standing in the center of the room, bathed in the warm overhead light, violin tucked beneath her chin. Her bow glides across the strings with effortless precision, her brows furrowed in focus, lips slightly parted in that way she always does when she’s deep in her music.

Mira stops in her tracks, completely still. She knows this piece—it’s the one Zoey’s been obsessing over for weeks, the one Mira pretended not to be impressed by, even though it low-key made her emotional the first time she heard it.

She tiptoes closer, clutching the takeout bag like it’s a truce offering to the god of musical brooding. She leans against the wall, peering in with wide eyes, half-mesmerized, half-terrified of being caught. She doesn’t dare make a sound. One wrong move and Zoey might disappear in a puff of eyeliner and sarcasm.

Why does she look like a movie scene? Who gave her permission to be this cool?

And why is my heart doing that fluttery anime thing?

Then— crinkle . 

The takeout bag betrays her with a sudden, aggressive rustle.

Zoey doesn’t stop playing.

But her bow lingers half a second too long on the next note. A subtle shift. A raised eyebrow. A smirk flickering at the corner of her lips.

“Are you going to stand there gawking all night,” Zoey calls, still not looking, “or are you planning to feed me before I faint from the drama of my own talent?”

Mira stiffens like a deer in headlights.

“I—I brought your favorite dumplings,” she says, voice cracking like she’s never spoken in public before. 

“With extra chili oil. Because…fake girlfriends do that. Right?”

Zoey finally turns her head slightly, that signature mix of cool and smug in full force.

“Well, aren’t you thoughtful,” she says, “Remind me to keep you in the contract after the breakup.”

Mira tries to act unbothered but promptly walks into the doorframe on her way in. She mutters something that’s probably meant to be “I’m fine,” though it sounds more like “Ow” as she rubs her forehead and shuffles fully into the room.

Zoey lowers her violin, finally giving Mira her full attention, “You okay there, Romeo?”

Mira clears her throat, holding up the bag of dumplings, “For you. To prevent death by drama. Or hunger. Or both.”

Zoey takes the bag, their fingers brushing for exactly 0.3 seconds—long enough for Mira’s soul to momentarily evacuate her body. Zoey, naturally, pretends not to notice. Or maybe she does and is just a menace about it.

“I guess this means our fake relationship is still going strong,” Zoey says, plopping down on the worn couch by the window. 

“Next step: joint couple outfits and a dramatic betrayal arc.”

Mira blinks, “I thought we were still in the ‘tentatively flirty while pretending not to care’ phase?”

“Oh, we are,” Zoey replies, expertly popping open a dumpling container. 

“But you just showed up with food and listened to me play without making fun of me once. That’s, like…gay marriage in K-drama terms.”

Mira groans, flopping onto the couch beside her, “Okay, first of al l, I did not not make fun of you. I just did it silently, in my head.”

“How considerate.”

“I’m very polite.”

Zoey grins and nudges Mira’s knee with hers, “You’re lucky you’re cute when you’re flustered.”

Mira chokes on absolutely nothing, “I’m not flustered.”

“You literally walked into a wall.”

“That wall was...aggressive.”

Zoey hands her a pair of chopsticks, “Eat, gay disaster.”

Mira mutters, “You’re the gay disaster,” but starts eating anyway—because, well, she is a little gay and a lot of disaster, and Zoey is looking at her like she knows it.

And maybe—just maybe—Mira doesn’t mind.

“You should come watch me perform,” Zoey says suddenly.

Mira blinks mid-bite, “Why? I get the concert for free by being your roommate.”

Zoey rolls her eyes, setting her chopsticks down on the container lid with a dramatic clack. 

“No, I mean the real performance. The one with actual lighting and people who pretend to understand classical music.”

She stands, casually strolling over to where her violin rests on its stand. She picks it up, spinning the bow between her fingers like she’s in a spy movie. Mira watches her with the wary gaze of someone who knows she’s being emotionally manipulated by someone hot and talented.

“You barely ate anything,” Mira mutters, eyeing Zoey’s container, which still has at least four dumplings untouched—a culinary crime.

“I’d eat,” Zoey says sweetly, already tucking the violin under her chin, “if you accepted my invitation to the recital.”

Mira glares, “You’re sick.”

Zoey flashes her a wicked smirk, “And you like it.”

With that, she launches into another hauntingly beautiful section of her piece—cool, effortless, annoying in how good it is. Mira finishes her last dumpling with the sigh of someone both defeated and deeply, unwillingly smitten.

“Fine,” she grumbles, wiping her mouth with a napkin, “I’ll go.”

Zoey doesn't miss a beat, “Front row?”

“Back row, exit strategy.”

“You’re no fun.”

“I bought dumplings, I’m peak fun.”

Zoey grins mid-bow stroke, “You’re peak something , alright.”

Mira throws a napkin at her and misses by a humiliating margin.

-

Zoey lets out a tired sigh, her neck aching from craning to see the book placed annoyingly high on the shelf. She’d skipped violin practice today to cram for her upcoming exams—flunking them again was not an option if she wanted to salvage her GPA.

She inhales deeply, stretches onto her tiptoes, and reaches up toward the book like it’s her academic salvation.

“Come on…” she mutters through gritted teeth, fingers brushing the spine of the book but not quite grasping it. Her fingertips graze the cover, but it’s no use. Times like this, Zoey seriously wishes she were taller—or that the library shelving staff had even a shred of compassion.

With a determined huff, she blows a stray strand of hair from her face, backs up, and jumps—hoping to knock the book loose, whether it lands in her hands or concusses her in the name of success.

But just as she’s about to leap again, a hand slips past hers and pulls the book neatly from the shelf.

“Oh! Thank you—” Zoey beams and instinctively holds her hands out for the book.

Only it never lands in her hands.

She blinks. Then squints.

Standing there with a smirk and the book casually tucked under one arm is Mira . The girl looks entirely too smug for someone who just swooped in like a library thief.

“Mira!” Zoey snaps, hand still outstretched, “I need that book.”

“I took it first. First come, first serve, right?” Mira teases, holding the book high above her head, fully aware of Zoey’s tragic vertical disadvantage.

Zoey narrows her eyes. 

Oh, so we’re playing dirty now.

Without missing a beat, she steps forward and squishes Mira’s cheeks together in one hand, leaning in suddenly—and presses a quick kiss to her lips.

Mira freezes like a statue.

Zoey grins devilishly as she takes advantage of Mira’s stunned silence to pry the book from her hand. 

“Thanks, babe,” she chirps, skipping away with the book like she didn’t just shatter the space-time continuum with a spontaneous first kiss.

But she doesn’t get far. A hand clamps around her wrist, and suddenly she’s spun around and pulled into Mira’s arms.

“ Why did you kiss me ?!” Mira hisses in a loud whisper, cheeks pink and eyes wide with panic.

Zoey raises a brow, feigning innocence, “What, was that your first kiss?”

She’s bluffing, of course. It was her first kiss too, and her heart is basically breakdancing in her chest—but Mira doesn’t need to know that.

“N-no!” Mira stammers, eyes darting everywhere but Zoey’s face.

Zoey leans in, smug as ever, “Well, prep yourself for more, then.”

She drops the book dramatically to the floor, cups Mira’s face in both hands, and peppers her cheeks with quick kisses—left, right, tip of the nose—before finally landing another kiss on her lips, longer this time, softer.

Mira doesn’t even move.

Zoey pulls back with a satisfied smile, scoops up her fallen book, and turns to leave like nothing happened.

Mira remains rooted in place, brain buffering like a laptop in 2009.

-

Today is Zoey’s recital.

Mira stands in front of their full-length mirror, frowning at her reflection like it's personally offending her. She smooths down the wrinkles in her dress for the fifth time, then steps back, then leans in again.

She doesn't know why she's so worked up. It’s not like she’s performing.

She’s not even sitting up front—she’s chosen a seat at the back of the auditorium, half-hidden in the shadows. A seat for someone who’s “just there for moral support,” not someone important.

So why the hell do I care this much about how I look? she thinks, tugging slightly at her dress. 

Who am I even trying to impress?

It’s not like Zoey even knew for sure she’d show up.

In fact, Zoey had played it cool all week—shrugging when she mentioned the recital, throwing in a casual, “Come if you want. No pressure.” The kind of detached delivery Mira had come to recognize as Zoey trying not to hope too hard .

Well.

Here Mira is.

Not only showing up—but anxiously triple-checking her outfit, hair, and general vibe like she’s about to walk a red carpet.

She runs her palms down her dress one last time, takes a shaky breath, and gives herself a look in the mirror that says, 

Pull it together. You’re just watching her play the violin. Not getting married.

...Then she mutters under her breath, “God, what if she looks like she’s getting married?”

A resounding applause fills the concert hall.

Zoey’s recital had been nothing short of spectacular—every note soaring, every movement precise yet full of life. The kind of performance that made even seasoned audience members lean forward in awe. And from the very back row, Mira claps until her palms sting, a proud, quiet smile tugging at her lips.

Of course Zoey crushed it . Mira never doubted her. Not really.

Still, watching her command the stage like that, lit up under warm lights with her violin cradled against her shoulder—it stirred something deep in Mira’s chest. Pride, maybe. Something...softer, too.

From the distance, Mira can just make out Zoey standing at center stage, bowing once, then twice. Her expression is as unreadable as ever—cool, poised—but then her gaze begins to sweep across the crowd.

She’s looking for someone.

Mira stiffens.

No way. No. She’s probably searching for her mom, or a music professor, or some industry scout—

Then, their eyes meet.

Mira freezes. No. I'm imagining this .

But then Zoey smirks—and sends her a wink.

Oh god, she saw me.

Mira's breath catches in her throat as the applause continues, loud and thunderous, but suddenly distant in her ears. She barely notices the people around her rising to their feet. All she can focus on is the way Zoey’s eyes linger just a second too long, like a silent thank you ... or maybe something else entirely.

Mira sits down again, heart pounding. Her cheeks flush hot.

And for the first time all night, she’s glad she spent twenty minutes fixing her hair.

-

Zoey fidgets with her fingers as she waits outside the swimming complex, pacing back and forth. Her heart is racing. She’s spent way too much time thinking of how to ask Mira out on a “fake date,” which is ridiculous because it’s not even real.

…Except, deep down, a part of her wants it to be.

She barely has time to rehearse her lines again before—

“Hey, Zoe.”

Zoey jumps, startled by the familiar voice. She spins around to see Mira stepping out of the complex, hair tied up in a messy bun, dressed in a baggy t-shirt and grey sweatpants. She’s wearing those round glasses that somehow make her even more annoyingly attractive.

Zoey’s breath catches in her throat. Why is casual Mira more dangerous than regular Mira?

“What brings you here?” Mira asks casually, slinging her towel over one shoulder.

“Uh…” Zoey stammers, suddenly very aware of how awkward she sounds. 

“I… uh…”

She’s momentarily distracted by how effortlessly cool Mira looks, even after a swim. This is unfair. Her brain short-circuits for a full two seconds.

“Hmm?” Mira prompts, raising a brow.

Zoey inhales sharply, gathers all her courage, and blurts, “Do you wanna go on a date with me?”

Her voice wavers, and her hands are nervously clasped together in front of her. Her heart pounds so loudly she’s sure Mira can hear it. Mira blinks, then raises an eyebrow, lips twitching with a barely restrained smile.

“I’m busy,” Mira says flatly.

Zoey’s face falls immediately. Her shoulders slump, and she takes a small step back, eyes downcast. 

“Oh. Yeah. No worries…”

She’s just about to turn around when she hears Mira burst into laughter.

“I’m kidding! I didn’t expect you to look so devastated!” Mira wheezes, doubling over from laughing too hard.

Zoey narrows her eyes and lunges. 

“You menace ! I can’t believe you did that!” she shouts as she traps Mira in a hug and starts tickling her sides.

“Do you know how disappointed I was?! I had, like, a whole imaginary date montage planned!”

“I’m sorry!” Mira laughs breathlessly, trying to squirm away. She reaches out and lightly pinches the tip of Zoey’s nose.

“Forgiven,” Zoey huffs, scrunching her nose cutely, “only because you’re cute and I have zero self-control around you.”

Mira chuckles and presses a soft kiss to Zoey’s forehead.

“To answer your question,” Mira says, quieter now, “yes. I’d love to go on a date with you.”

Zoey’s eyes widened, “Wait— for real ?”

Before Mira can answer, Zoey lets out a loud, joyous cheer. 

“YES!” she exclaims, scooping Mira up and spinning her around.

Once Mira’s safely back on the ground, Zoey throws her fists into the air like she just won a gold medal. 

“First date time! Let’s go!”

She reaches out and grabs Mira’s hand, intertwining their fingers tightly like she’s afraid she’ll lose her if she lets go.

Mira nods, her smile soft. She lets Zoey lead them down the sidewalk, their hands swinging between them. She glances at Zoey’s side profile—glowing with excitement—then down at their clasped hands.

She didn’t realize just how badly she wanted Zoey to hold her hand until now.

Mira tightens her grip.

Zoey’s heart explodes. She swears she could faint right there from happiness.

She wishes she’d discovered this whole dating thing sooner—this giddy, dizzy feeling of liking someone so much it messes with your breathing. But if it meant getting to feel all of this with Mira, then she doesn’t regret a thing.

And if this is what it feels like to like someone, Zoey’s pretty sure she wants to fall in love with Mira again and again.

The neon lights bounce off the sticky floors of the bowling alley as Mira and Zoey walk in, fingers tightly intertwined. Zoey’s practically buzzing with excitement, dragging Mira along like a golden retriever with a mission. 

Mira tries to play it cool, expression unreadable, but internally? She’s a complete mess. 

Zoey flashes her a smirk, mind drifting back to Mira’s recital dress from the other night. 

“That outfit, by the way? You looked like a goddess and a hot nerdy librarian. All at once.”

Mira freezes mid-step, “You mean the one I spent thirty minutes panicking over?”

“That’s the one,” Zoey grins, dangerous and smug. 

“It should be illegal how good you looked. Like, stop showing off before I have to file a restraining order.”

Mira rolls her eyes, but her cheeks flush instantly, “I thought you were gonna make fun of the sweatpants.”

Zoey leans in, their shoulders brushing, “Sweatpants are cute on you. But that dress? I’m gonna need you to wear it every time I perform. No exceptions.”

“Unfair,” Mira teases, biting back a smile, “And very distracting.”

“Exactly,” Zoey says, gaze softening, “Distract me all you want.”

By the time they reach the counter to rent shoes, chaos immediately ensues. Zoey’s shoe mysteriously disappears, and while she’s crawling under the bench in search of it, Mira somehow manages to knock a bowling ball down the wrong lane—straight toward a group of unsuspecting teenagers.

“Bowling ball incoming!” Zoey shouts, triumphantly snatching her shoe from beneath a soda-sticky bench.

The ball bounces harmlessly off the bumper, but the teenagers still flinch, and the lane attendant shoots Mira a death glare from behind the desk.

Mira shrinks back, lips pressed together, “Smooth.”

Zoey grabs her hand and pulls her toward their lane, “Come on, disaster queen. It’s your turn.”

Mira picks up a ball like she’s disarming a grenade, eyes narrowed at the pins. Zoey leans back against the ball return, watching with a devilish smirk.

“Ready to get wrecked by me?” Zoey taunts.

“In your dreams, babe.”

Mira swings—and the ball wobbles dramatically before knocking over exactly one pin.

Zoey bursts into laughter, “Adorable. Okay, my turn.”

She steps up and casually rolls a perfect curve, taking down seven pins with the grace of someone who definitely lied about never playing before.

“Show-off,” Mira mutters, but there’s a smile tugging at her lips.

Soon the game devolves into absolute chaos: wild throws, over-the-top commentary, and way too much accidental touching. At one point, Mira almost hurls her ball straight into the gutter, and Zoey grabs her wrist mid-swing to stop her—only for them both to lose balance and tumble into a giggling heap on the floor.

Zoey ends up half on top of her, eyes crinkled with laughter, “See? I’m here to protect you—from bad outfits and bad bowling.”

Mira looks up at her, breathless, eyes sparkling, “And yet, you still want me?”

Zoey leans in close, gently brushing a stray hair behind Mira’s ear, “Because you’re my favorite kind of disaster.”

Mira laughs, heart pounding, cheeks burning in the glow of the neon lights.

This messy, ridiculous, gay little night?

Exactly what she never knew she needed.

-

All it takes is one date for them to fall into a rhythm of many more—ice cream runs, study sessions, movie nights. Zoey and Mira become inseparable, joined at the hip, and neither of them complains.

Because secretly? They love it.

Now, they’re at the swimming complex. Mira is about to do something she never thought she’d do—teach Zoey how to swim.

Zoey stands at the edge of the pool, staring down at the water like it’s a portal to hell. Fear flashes in her eyes. Mira swims up and rests her arms on the edge, gazing up at her.

“You sure you want to do this?” Mira asks gently.

“Yes…” Zoey says, though her voice shakes. She sits down slowly and dips her feet into the water, shivering at the cold.

“I don’t want anything to happen to you,” Mira says again, voice quiet but firm. She knows about Zoey’s past—the near-drowning incident from years ago. The fear isn’t irrational.

“But I want to do it,” Zoey insists, brows furrowed, “For you.”

“For me?” Mira blinks, caught off guard.

Zoey nods, “I want to swim beside you—to share something you love. To support you.”

Mira’s chest tightens. Her eyes sting. She hadn’t expected that. She’s trained with champions and practiced for hours in silence, but this—this quiet, stubborn gesture from Zoey—is the most meaningful show of support she’s ever received.

She doesn’t want this to end when the fake dating does.

She doesn’t want her to end.

“Okay,” Mira says softly, brushing wet hair from her eyes, “Let’s start.”

Zoey claps her hands together nervously and lowers herself into the pool, gripping the edge like it’s the last thing keeping her afloat. Her knuckles turn white.

Mira swims behind her, hands gentle as she lifts Zoey’s legs and encourages her to kick. Step by step, they go over the basics: form, breathing, staying calm. Mira showers her with quiet praise, her usual snark gone.

Zoey listens. She tries. She learns fast.

During a break at the pool’s edge, Zoey suddenly speaks up, “I want to try swimming to you, Mira.”

Mira raises a brow, “You sure?”

“Yes.” Zoey nods, more confident now.

Mira grins, “Alright, swim toward me—but stay close to the ledge.” 

She presses a kiss to Zoey’s cheek before swimming to the far end of the lane. She hoists herself onto the pool edge, knees pulled to her chest, watching like a hawk.

“You got this, Zoey!” she cheers, clapping as Zoey takes a breath and starts paddling forward.

Zoey gives it everything she’s got. Her strokes are uneven, she swallows a little water, but she pushes forward—refusing to stop.

She makes it.

“You did it!” Mira exclaims, jumping back into the water to meet her, “I’m so proud of you!”

She cups Zoey’s cheeks, squishing them playfully. Zoey giggles and loops her arms around Mira’s waist, clinging to her.

“Told you I could do it.”

“I know. And I’m so, so proud of you.”

Zoey tilts her head, “Do I get a reward?”

Mira snorts, “Cheeky.” 

But she leans in anyway, brushing a kiss over Zoey’s lips.

Zoey smiles into it and slides her hand up to Mira’s neck, pulling her closer, deepening the kiss.

They only pull away when their lungs burn.

Their cheeks are flushed. They’re quiet. Neither of them looks the other in the eye, afraid that if they do—they might not be able to look away ever again.

“Why aren’t you always in the dorms?” Zoey asks suddenly, her voice soft, a little hesitant. She shifts closer, resting her cheek against Mira’s shoulder as they lie side by side on Mira’s towel on the floor of the swimming complex.

The air is cool, their skin damp, and their limbs are lazily tangled together under the soft buzz of the overhead lights.

Mira stares up at the ceiling, lips parted but unmoving.

Zoey can feel the tension in her shoulder almost instantly.

“You don’t have to answer if you don’t want to,” Zoey adds quickly, afraid she’s crossed a line.

There’s a long pause.

Then Mira finally speaks, voice quiet, “I don’t like… staying still. In one place. In one room. It makes my head noisy.”

Zoey lifts her head to glance at her, brows furrowed, “Noisy?”

Mira nods once, still staring upward, “It’s easier when I’m moving. Swimming. Studying somewhere else. With someone else.”

Zoey doesn’t say anything for a beat, trying to read between the lines.

“You get in your head,” she says softly, “When it’s too quiet.”

Mira glances at her, eyes guarded. She doesn’t confirm it. But she doesn’t deny it either. Zoey hums and lays back down, her hand slipping into Mira’s. Fingers curl together slowly. Mira doesn’t pull away.

“You can stay with me,” Zoey offers quietly, “When it’s too quiet.”

Mira’s lips twitch into the barest hint of a smile.

“I do,” she says, barely above a whisper. 

Zoey’s heart flips in her chest. She looks over, grinning shyly, “So... I’m your quiet place?”

Mira scoffs, but she doesn’t let go of Zoey’s hand, “More like my emotional support chaos demon.”

Zoey snickers and leans over to bump their foreheads together, “You love it.”

“...Unfortunately.”

They stay there like that—warm, safe, fingers intertwined, hearts quietly racing.

And in the stillness, Mira doesn’t feel so noisy anymore.

-

It’s a sudden date.

At least, to Zoey.

For Mira, she’s been planning this for a while.

Zoey’s usually the one taking the lead, always the first to make things happen. But lately, Mira’s noticed how stressed Zoey’s been, running herself ragged. So tonight, Mira decides to switch things up.

She walks in to find Zoey hunched over a bowl of instant ramen, chugging it down like it’s the only thing keeping her alive. A snort escapes Mira’s lips.

“Woah, ease up on that,” Mira says, kicking off her shoes and plopping down beside Zoey in the living room.

“No proper meals again?” Mira asks, reaching over to brush a loose strand of hair away from Zoey’s face so it doesn’t get in the way of her eating.

Zoey shrugs between bites, “Nah. Busy.”

Mira watches her for a moment before dropping the question, “Are you busy this Friday?”

Zoey raises an eyebrow, “Not that I know of. I think I’m free.”

Mira’s grin grows wide, “Good. I got us Disneyland tickets.”

Zoey’s eyes go wide—then sparkle.

“No way!” Zoey gasps, clutching the tickets like they’re the best treasure in the world. 

“Really?!”

“Yeah,” Mira laughs, eyes sparkling. 

“We can scream our lungs out on all the rides, buy those weird-ass hair bands you’re obsessed with, and—most importantly—go find Stitch and maybe convince him to come home with us.”

Zoey smirks, nudging Mira playfully, “Only if you promise not to chicken out on the roller coasters this time.”

Mira raises an eyebrow, mock-offended, “Excuse me? I am a thrill-seeker, thank you very much.”

Zoey laughs, tossing an arm around Mira’s shoulders, “Can’t wait for our date to turn into a full-on adventure.”

They hop onto the horses of the carousel, sitting side by side as the ride slowly spins. Mira pulls out her phone and snaps a candid photo of Zoey’s glowing, happy face. Then she flips the camera around and quickly takes a cheeky selfie of them both, making sure to save it as her new KakaoTalk profile picture.

The pair continue riding the attractions until the sun dips low, painting the sky in warm oranges and purples. Zoey stands close beside Mira as they watch the nightly fireworks burst overhead. Mira’s focused on snapping pictures of the colorful explosions, oblivious to Zoey quietly taking a photo of Mira instead. Zoey smiles softly at the shot, tucking it away in a special folder on her phone.

When the fireworks fade, it signals time to head home. They walk out of the park side by side, the cool evening air filling the silence between them. Neither speaks until they reach the train station. Mira glances over just as Zoey tops up her transportation card.

“Hey, Zoey,” Mira says suddenly.

“Yeah?” Zoey looks up, only to be tugged into a nearby photo booth before she can react.

“I want to take a picture with you,” Mira says, already settling on the single bench inside.

Zoey laughs, “Then why didn’t you just say so?”

She steps in, planning to stand, but freezes as Mira gently grabs her hand and asks, “Do you want to sit down?”

“No, it’s okay. You sit,” Zoey replies with a smile, feeding three two-dollar bills into the machine.

Then Mira, shy but bold, pats her lap, “Do you want to sit here instead?”

Zoey’s eyes widen in surprise at Mira’s confidence, but she quickly turns to the corner, hyperventilating silently.

“Are you okay?!” Mira asks, worried, about to stand and check on her.

Zoey suddenly turns, kneeling timidly before sitting carefully on Mira’s lap. Grateful her back is to Mira, Zoey hides the flush blooming across her face.

“I can’t reach the screen—can you start the photo?” Mira asks, tilting her head toward Zoey.

Quick to nod, Zoey taps ‘start’ on the screen. Mira tightens her arm around Zoey’s waist, careful not to let her slip off.

They pull silly faces as the camera clicks—Zoey playfully “chokes” Mira while Mira dramatically pretends to be dead. When the photo develops, they burst out laughing.

“Here’s your copy,” Zoey chuckles, handing the photo to Mira.

Mira’s eyes widen at the ridiculous edits Zoey made—she sports an eye patch and a moustache. Narrowing her eyes, Mira tackles Zoey into a tickle fight.

Zoey slaps at Mira’s hands, laughing as she tries to fend her off. Their blush deepens as Mira’s arm stays firmly around Zoey’s waist and her other hand rests on Zoey’s back.

Finally, Mira breaks away, creating some space between them. 

“Let’s go home now,” she says, pointing at the train station.

Zoey nods and falls into step behind her. They ride the last train back to their dorm in comfortable silence, neither breaking the quiet until they step inside.

“Thank you for today, Mira,” Zoey says softly before slipping into the bathroom to wash up.

Mira watches her go, flashing a warm smile, “You’re welcome.”

-

It’s been a few months since Mira and Zoey started their fake dating game to fool Rumi and Jinu. 

And honestly? They’ve been too good at it.

The way they talk, touch, look at each other—none of it screams “fake.” It doesn’t just fool their friends anymore. Somewhere along the way, it started fooling them too.

Now, they’re on their way to the double date Zoey promised Rumi. The one she couldn't weasel her way out of. The one where she’s finally bringing her girlfriend —or, well, Mira—to meet Rumi and Jinu properly.

Mira walks beside her, fingers laced tightly with Zoey’s. Too tightly.

She’s nervous.

Zoey can feel it in her grip, in the way Mira keeps fidgeting with the hem of her sleeve with her free hand.

“Don’t worry, they won’t bite,” Zoey says gently, her voice low and comforting. 

She gives Mira’s hand a soft squeeze, thumb brushing soothing circles across her knuckles. To help her relax, Zoey leans in and presses a kiss to Mira’s temple. It lingers a little longer than it needs to.

“I’m here,” she murmurs against her skin.

Mira lets out a soft laugh, breath shaky, “Thanks.”

Her smile is small and jittery, but genuine.

And Zoey thinks—not for the first time—that she might be in way over her head.

They keep walking down the cobbled path toward Rumi and Jinu’s café, their shadows stretching out side by side under the warm afternoon sun. From a distance, they don’t look fake at all.

They look like the real thing.

And maybe… maybe they are.

“Rumi and Jinu,” Zoey announces with a wide grin as she steps to the side, revealing the girl half-hiding behind her, “meet Mira.”

She gestures with both hands like she’s presenting a prize.

“And Mira, these are my besties-slash-menaces-slash-matchmakers,” Zoey adds, waving dramatically at the couple seated by the window.

Rumi immediately grins, elbowing Jinu, “ Finally . She’s real.”

“I told you she was real!” Zoey huffs.

“Hi,” Mira says shyly, stepping forward. She gives them a polite smile as she reaches out a hand to shake both of theirs. 

“Nice to meet you.”

Her voice is a little soft, her nerves peeking through.

“You’re so beautiful,” Jinu says with all the warmth of someone who genuinely means it.

Mira freezes mid-sit and blinks at him.

Zoey raises an eyebrow, “Okay, tone it down, she’s mine.”

Mira lets out a surprised laugh as she takes her seat next to Zoey, cheeks tinged with pink. She ducks her head slightly, unused to this kind of attention.

“Sorry, sorry,” Jinu chuckles, raising his hands in surrender, “Just being supportive.”

“You’re gonna scare her off,” Zoey scolds playfully, bumping her shoulder against Mira’s as she adds, “Don’t worry, I’ve already claimed her.”

That earns a small smirk from Mira—an amused one that lingers even after she lowers her gaze to the menu. Rumi watches the two of them interact with a knowing look, her eyes flicking between the stolen glances and little smiles.

She leans toward Jinu and whispers behind her hand, “Either this act is really good , or they’re falling for real.”

“Babe,” Jinu whispers back, “they’re so in love, it’s embarrassing.”

“Mira,” Rumi says suddenly, her tone sharp enough to cut through the café chatter.

Mira immediately straightens in her seat, posture stiff, eyes blinking as if she’s been called out in class, “Yes?”

“You know…” Rumi begins, pausing for dramatic effect. She taps her chin like she’s inspecting a crime scene. 

“You don’t really look like the type Zoey usually goes for.”

Zoey chokes on her drink.

“Excuse me ?” she croaks, grabbing a napkin.

Even Jinu looks up from his pastry, blinking in disbelief, “Babe, what are you saying?”

Rumi continues, unfazed. “It’s just—with this whole mysterious roommate thing Zoey kept painting? I thought you’d be a ghost. Or, I don’t know, some femme fatale with a secret identity.”

“I am mysterious,” Mira deadpans, tilting her head slightly.

“Right,” Rumi nods, clearly stirring the pot, “But I was expecting more leather jacket, less… shy girlfriend vibes.”

Zoey opens her mouth to defend her, but Mira beats her to it.

“Maybe that’s the problem with your assumptions,” Mira says calmly, voice smooth like a dagger in velvet. 

“You hear ‘mystery’ and assume drama. But Zoey’s not with me for theatrics. She’s with me because I’m good to her. And because I make her feel seen.”

Zoey’s eyes widen as Mira leans back in her seat, casually sipping from her iced americano like she didn’t just shut the entire café up.

Rumi blinks. 

“Oh. Damn.”

“Mic drop,” Jinu mutters under his breath.

Zoey turns to look at Mira, mouth slightly open, heart thudding too fast for her liking. Mira catches her staring and offers a tiny, smug smile.

“See?” Mira says under her breath, just loud enough for Zoey, “Told you I clean up nice.”

Zoey coughs and tries to hide her very real blush behind her drink.

“God, you two are disgustingly cute,” Rumi grumbles, though she’s smiling again.

After that moment, the atmosphere at the table eases. The tension that had briefly thickened the air lifts like fog in morning sun. Rumi doesn’t prod further, and Jinu goes back to fussing over the latte art on his drink.

Whatever stunt Rumi pulled—it felt less like a comment and more like a test. And based on the way she keeps stealing subtle glances at Mira, then at Zoey, it’s clear she’s still turning it over in her head.

Zoey keeps her fingers loosely laced with Mira’s under the table, thumb brushing slow circles over the back of Mira’s hand. She’s hyper-aware of how warm Mira’s skin is. How she hasn’t pulled away.

Across from them, Jinu launches into a dramatic retelling of a customer who tried to pay for their matcha with a foreign coin and a poem. Mira chuckles at the absurdity of it, and Zoey finds herself watching her instead of listening—studying the way Mira laughs with her shoulders, the way she tucks her hair behind her ear when she's flustered.

She doesn’t even notice Rumi staring until the girl catches her in the act and raises one knowing eyebrow.

Zoey immediately averts her gaze and reaches for her glass of water, nearly knocking it over.

“Careful,” Mira says gently, steadying the cup for her.

That soft voice, that quiet attention—it centers Zoey more than anything else could.

Time passes easily. They finish their meals and linger a little longer than necessary, trading stories and jokes and quiet laughter. Mira seems more relaxed now, her hand no longer stiff in Zoey’s but rather idly playing with her fingers. Zoey doesn’t think Mira even notices.

By the time they step out of the café, the sun is already low on the horizon, casting a golden glow across the pavement.

“That went... well?” Zoey says as they walk side by side, their shadows stretching long before them.

“I guess,” Mira hums.

“You think Rumi was testing us?”

“She was. But I don’t think we failed,” Mira says simply.

Zoey looks at her, but Mira’s eyes are on the sky, watching a lone bird cut through the orange clouds.

“Thanks for having my back,” Zoey says quietly.

Mira turns to her then, and for once, her smirk is replaced by something softer. Something real.

“Always.”

And just like that, Zoey forgets they’re faking anything at all.

-

“Mira!”

Mira looks up from her phone and blinks in surprise. A few feet ahead, she spots Rumi waving at her. She hadn’t expected to run into Zoey’s best friend while out and about, especially not when she was just trying to run a quick errand.

“Didn’t expect to see you,” Rumi greets, smiling as Mira approaches, “Running errands?”

“Yeah,” Mira replies, holding up her reusable tote bag, “Need to stock up the fridge. Zoey’s been stress-eating lately, so we’re running low.”

Rumi chuckles and begins walking alongside her, “That sounds like her.”

Mira glances sideways, sensing there’s more behind Rumi’s sudden appearance. She’s been on edge ever since that double date—since Zoey touched her hand under the table like it was second nature, since her chest tightened when Zoey smiled too wide at something Jinu said.

“You’ve been doing a really good job,” Rumi says suddenly, and Mira turns to her, “Making Zoey happy, I mean.”

Mira raises a brow, “You’ve heard a lot about me?”

“Only everything,” Rumi smirks.

That shouldn’t make Mira feel warm inside, but it does. And she hates it. Hates that her first thought is whether Zoey talks about her with that same soft lilt in her voice that she uses when saying Mira’s name at night.

Then Rumi slows, just a little, and glances at her sideways.

“Can I ask you something?”

“Sure?”

“Are you really Zoey’s girlfriend?”

Mira’s step falters. She lets out a short laugh, trying not to seem caught off guard, “Why would you ask that?”

Rumi doesn’t smile this time, “Because something about this feels off. Zoey’s been my best friend for years. She’s sworn off dating like it’s a contagious disease. But then, out of nowhere—bam. Girlfriend.”

Mira stays quiet, gripping her bag tighter.

“But the thing is…” Rumi continues, voice softer now, “I’ve been watching you two. And whether or not it started as a lie—I don’t think either of you are faking it anymore.”

Mira’s lips part, unsure what to say.

“I mean, really. You ?” Rumi teases, elbowing her lightly. 

“You with your emotionally constipated, deadpan swimmer energy. And Zoey, who can’t even hold hands without turning into a tomato. You two are such a weird combo it almost makes sense.”

Mira scoffs, trying to brush it off, “Thanks, I guess?”

“Don’t thank me yet,” Rumi shrugs, “I’m just saying—be honest with yourself, Mira. Because if this thing between you two ever was fake, it sure as hell isn’t now.”

They walk in silence for a few steps.

And Mira… can’t stop thinking about the way Zoey kissed her at the pool, how her fingers trembled when they interlaced with hers. 

How she looked at her like Mira had hung the moon. 

How she’s still thinking about it every damn night since.

After her conversation with Rumi that morning, something in Mira shifts.

She moves around Zoey like a ghost—quiet, distant, never quite meeting her eyes. Zoey notices it immediately, of course. It’s hard not to when the girl who used to tease her at every turn now barely says a word over breakfast.

And Zoey hates it.

But she doesn’t push. Not yet.

Mira lies awake on her bed, eyes fixed on the ceiling, thoughts swirling in the quiet of the room.

Do I like Zoey like that?

She doesn’t have a clear answer. All she knows is that her heart reacts to Zoey in ways it never has with anyone else. The way it stutters when Zoey laughs, how it aches when she smiles at someone else, how it flips when Zoey says her name like it means something.

Zoey makes her feel wanted. Seen. Cared for.

No one’s ever done that for her before—not really.

Not like Zoey does.

And that’s what terrifies Mira the most.

Because no matter how real it feels, it’s still an act. A lie they told their friends that somehow spiraled into something far too big for Mira’s heart to contain. And now, every moment she shares with Zoey feels like a ticking clock, counting down to the end of something she doesn’t know how to live without.

Most nights, she cries quietly into her pillow, makeup staining the sheets, because this isn’t supposed to hurt.

This isn’t supposed to feel like falling.

But it does.

And tonight, Mira can’t take it anymore.

She sits up in bed, wiping the tears from her face with shaky hands. Her chest is tight, and her throat burns from the weight of what she has to do.

She climbs down the ladder and stands beside Zoey’s bed in the dark.

“…Hey, Zoey,” she whispers, her voice barely holding together, “You still awake?”

Zoey stirs and peeks out from under the blanket. 

“Nope,” she replies softly, her eyes warm even in the shadows. 

When she sees Mira, she sits up instantly, “Hey, what’s wrong?”

Mira doesn’t answer right away. She sits down on the edge of the bed, keeping her gaze fixed on the floor.

“We need to talk.”

Concern flickers across Zoey’s face. She reaches out, curling herself gently against Mira’s side like a sleepy kitten, “Okay. What’s up?”

Mira takes a deep breath. Her voice breaks on the first word.

“This fake dating thing…”

She swallows hard, fingers knotting in her lap.

“Let’s end it. I can’t do this anymore. I’m done being your fake girlfriend.”

Zoey stiffens beside her, the warmth of her presence suddenly pulled tight with tension.

The silence stretches between them, fragile and loaded.

Mira doesn’t dare look up. If she does, she might not survive what she’ll see on Zoey’s face.

She’s breaking her own heart—but it’s better than letting Zoey break it for her.

-

The next few weeks passed by quietly. 

Without each other, everything feels wrong. Mira has stopped going to her training and started avoiding Zoey altogether. When they attend their shared class, Mira doesn’t sit next to Zoey anymore; instead, she chooses the front row beside someone named Abby.

Zoey clenches her hands into fists, watching the two of them talk and smile. Her chest tightens, and it feels like her heart is tearing into a million pieces.

To make things worse, Mira stopped coming back to their dorm. It’s like life has reset itself—back to how it was before. Mira, the mysterious roommate who was never really around. Zoey worries, not knowing where Mira has gone or what she’s doing.

Whenever Zoey tries to approach her, Mira just walks away coldly, shutting her out completely. She’s even blocked Zoey on every social media platform and deleted her number. Zoey can’t reach her at all, and the frustration and hurt boil inside her. She hates Mira for it—hates how the girl is shutting her out. She wants to shake some sense into her, to wake her from this stupid act, to have Mira face her properly again.

But she hates herself too. Every little thing reminds her of Mira—from the swimming complex to the bowling alley she once showed Mira. Every memory, every place, now feels empty and hollow without Mira by her side.

Every night, Zoey stares at her ceiling, her fingers tracing circles over her chest. That hollow, aching emptiness inside her twists her heart, making her so lost and so sad that tears come unbidden, and she cries herself to sleep.

Her lips part in a whisper, calling out the one name she can’t let go of: “Mira.”

Clutching Mira’s blue tiger teddy bear, Derpy, close to her heart, Zoey’s voice breaks as she begs the silent night, “Please come back to me.”

-

The next double date rolls around, but this time Zoey dreads going. She mops in her dorm room, ignoring every call from Rumi and Jinu. She is too exhausted to even get up and wash her face in the mornings—like a zombie, moving through each day on autopilot.

Not long after, Rumi and Jinu show up at her door. Their worried faces tell Zoey everything she already knows: they had ditched the party to find their best friend.

They step inside cautiously, finding Zoey disoriented and pale. Without hesitation, they help her collapse onto the couch. Jinu goes to grab a glass of water while Rumi sits beside Zoey, her heart breaking at the sight of their shattered friend.

“What happened?” Rumi asks gently, helping Zoey drink the water Jinu brought. Jinu takes a seat at the coffee table, holding Zoey’s hand tightly.

Zoey’s voice is barely more than a whisper, “We ended it.”

“Ended what?”

“Our fake dating act,” Zoey says, lips trembling into a pout. A sudden choke catches her throat, and then she bursts into tears—harder than before. Rumi and Jinu pull Zoey close, wrapping her in a comforting embrace as she sobs uncontrollably.

“We weren’t real girlfriends,” Zoey admits between cries, “we were fake dating all along, but it didn’t feel fake at all.”

“I did everything she asked—chased her like she told me to—and I did it!” Zoey’s voice cracks. 

“I waited for her after training to walk her home. I waited after class to walk with her to the swimming complex. I gave her all of me, and it worked!”

Rubbing her face with the back of her palm, Zoey continues, “I asked her out, not knowing why I was putting so much effort into something ‘fake.’ But my heart told me it wasn’t fake—it was real. Every kiss we shared meant the world to me. It gave me the strength to overcome my fear of water, to support her passion.”

“I never knew my heart could feel this much pain until now—until she ended this whole thing with me.”

Zoey’s voice grows desperate, “I was living in the moment with her, and the whole fake dating act disappeared. I wasn’t pretending—I was chasing her, giving her my whole heart. I love her. I know I do, even if I’m inexperienced. What I feel is real.”

Her fingers curl tightly around the hem of Rumi’s shirt as she cries out, “Mira… Mira…”

Hearing Zoey’s pained cries, both Rumi and Jinu feel their own hearts break. The raw love and longing in her voice is undeniable.

“She’s everything I want, everything I’m longing for. I want Mira. I want her back. I love Mira.”

Zoey’s tears never stop as she buries her face in her hands.

Rumi and Jinu let her cry until exhaustion finally pulls her into sleep. They sit silently, watching her rest—speechless at seeing this vulnerable, shattered side of Zoey. Her heartbreak cut deep, and it wasn't long before tears streamed down their own cheeks.

That night, Rumi and Jinu decide to stay with Zoey, to care for her and hopefully offer the advice she needs.

Rumi nervously chews her lip, waiting for Zoey to wake. She knows she has to tell Zoey about Mira’s feelings too—hoping it would encourage her to take a step forward.

Rumi could sense Mira’s heart is just as tangled and torn. Both girls are afraid: afraid the other doesn't feel the same, afraid of rejection, afraid of having to act normal around each other when their hearts are screaming otherwise.

But Rumi hopes that by sharing the truth, she could help them break free from their fears—maybe even help them find a way back to each other.

-

Zoey lets out a slow yawn as she sits up from the sofa, blinking against the morning light. She has no idea when she fell asleep here, until her eyes land on Rumi and Jinu, both passed out on the floor beside her. The memory of last night crashes over her again—how she unloaded all her sorrow onto them. A pang of guilt tightens in her chest.

Determined to make it up to them, Zoey slips quietly into the kitchen to make breakfast, hoping the pancakes might smooth over the rough edges of yesterday. She prays they won’t remember too much.

Jinu is the first to stir, yawning as the smell of pancakes drifts into his dreams. Rumi follows soon after, waking with a smile as she catches the scent. They both freshen up quickly before racing into the kitchen like kids at a sleepover, eager for Zoey’s homemade breakfast.

The three of them eat in comfortable silence, none daring to bring up last night’s heartbreak.

Finally, Zoey breaks the silence, “Hey, guys...” 

Her fingers toy with the edge of her plate, her voice hesitant, “I just wanted to say... I’m sorry for yesterday.”

Rumi shakes her head before Zoey can finish.

“You don’t have to apologize,” she says gently, as if reading Zoey’s thoughts. Zoey’s jaw drops slightly, grateful beyond words for her best friend’s presence and understanding.

Rumi’s eyes sparkle with quiet knowing as she asks, “You like her—no, you love her. So why didn’t you tell her?”

Jinu pauses mid-bite, his gaze locking onto Zoey, silently urging her to answer.

Zoey’s voice drops to a whisper, “I don’t know if she feels the same... especially since this whole thing started as an act.”

Her fingers nervously fiddle in her lap. Rumi lets out a soft sigh, while Jinu shakes his head with a mix of frustration and sympathy. Words fail him.

After a brief pause, Rumi says carefully, “I don’t know if you want to believe me, but Mira feels the same way.”

Zoey’s eyes snap up to meet Rumi’s calm, steady gaze. There’s no doubt in her face—she isn’t lying. Zoey swallows hard, the hesitation flickering across her face like a shadow.

“I don’t know…” Zoey trails off, biting her lip, unsure how to move forward. Rumi sighs softly, leaning forward.

“Zoey, you like Mira a lot. We all see it—everyone except you, apparently,” Rumi says gently but firmly. 

“And from everything we’ve heard, the way you talk about her, Mira really likes you too. You need to go sort this out with her. Please.”

“Zoey,” Jinu calls softly, catching her attention, “I can see that you two really like each other. I hope you’ll work it out, okay?”

Zoey nods, swallowing hard. She thanks them both for their advice, her heart pounding in her chest. After a while, Rumi and Jinu leave, giving Zoey time to think. She exhales deeply and stands up.

She walks over to her wardrobe, pulling out Mira’s windbreaker. Slipping it on, Zoey takes a moment, then dashes out of her dorm room toward the swimming complex—hoping Mira is there too.

Zoey pushes open the swimming complex door with all her might, breath coming in sharp pants as she rushes inside. Her eyes immediately lock onto Mira, sitting at the edge of the pool, hands covering her face, her quiet sobs echoing around the empty space.

“Mira!” Zoey yells, her voice cracking, tears pricking her own eyes at the sight of Mira so broken.

Mira’s head snaps up, eyes wide with surprise. She quickly rises, about to turn and leave—but Zoey calls out again, voice desperate.

“DON’T LEAVE! PLEASE! JUST… LISTEN TO ME!”

Mira freezes, standing with her back to Zoey. Zoey’s chest tightens; she swallows and draws in a shaky breath, trying to calm her racing heart. Then, gathering all her courage, she starts to speak, voice trembling but sincere.

“I like you, Mira. I know—you feel the same, don’t you? Please don’t ignore what’s real between us.”

Zoey’s voice breaks a little as she continues, eyes shining with raw honesty.

“I’m sorry for falling for you when we were supposed to be just fake dating. But it didn’t feel fake to me—not even once. Remember you told me I had to chase you if I wanted you to agree? Well, I chased you. I courted you—with everything I had.”

Her hands clench the hem of her jacket.

“I asked you out for real, not because I had to, but because a part of me wanted it to be real. I wanted to know you, really know you—so I put my heart into every plan, every moment. Remember the first time I kissed you? My heart exploded into sparks—I was the happiest girl in the world.”

Zoey swallows hard, tears slipping down her cheeks.

“And when I said I wanted to conquer my fears for you? I meant it. I wanted to grow with you, to trust you—and you did. You won my heart, Mira. I like you so much... Maybe I love you too.”

Her voice drops to a whisper, almost afraid to say it aloud.

“Please… say something.”

Mira shuts her eyes, warm tears welling as her chest tightens at Zoey’s words. She hadn’t really stopped to understand how Zoey felt—and it hit her just how selfish it was to end their fake dating act without any real closure. She never expected Zoey to fall for her.

Because, truthfully, Mira didn’t expect to fall for Zoey either—not when she first agreed to the plan.

Now, hearing Zoey’s tearful confession, all of Mira’s poor choices weigh heavy on her. Every doubt, every retreat, every avoided conversation had only hurt them both.

“I’m sorry,” Mira says softly, turning around to face her.

She walks across the pool deck toward the girl standing on the other side, her pace slow but steady. She needs to fix this—to do it properly this time.

“I’m sorry for being selfish,” she says, “I kept thinking about how scared I was. I didn’t even stop to think about how you might be feeling.”

“I shouldn’t have acted that way,” Mira continues, her voice cracking, “I was just… afraid you didn’t feel the same.”

She stops just in front of Zoey now, close enough to see the tears clinging to her lashes, and the tearful smile that somehow still makes Mira’s heart skip a beat.

Only Zoey does that to her. Only Zoey ever could.

“I like you too,” Mira confesses, breath trembling. “Maybe even more than just like.”

And before Zoey can respond, Mira grabs the front of her windbreaker and pulls her into a kiss.

Zoey freezes for a heartbeat—surprised—but quickly melts into Mira’s touch, arms sliding naturally around her waist. The kiss deepens, soft and wet, tasting faintly of tears and relief.

When they finally break apart, foreheads resting together, Zoey closes her eyes for a second—then opens them to find Mira staring back at her like she’s the only thing that matters in the world.

“So…” Zoey whispers, a crooked smile forming, “are you keen on dating me? For real this time?”

Mira huffs a soft laugh and cups Zoey’s face gently, brushing her thumbs across tear-stained cheeks.

“Never thought I’d hear you ask me that again,” she says, and then leans in to press one more kiss to Zoey’s lips, slow and sure.

“Yes.”

The end….?

The group is back at the couple’s café, tucked in their usual corner booth, but the energy’s different this time.

It’s not just the matching couple rings Mira and Zoey are not discreetly wearing, or the way Zoey has Mira’s hand curled into hers like it belongs there (because it does). It’s the way Mira looks at Zoey—like she hung the moon—and how Zoey keeps stealing glances like she still can’t believe she got the girl.

“So…” Rumi starts, eyeing them both with the suspicion of a seasoned gossip, “you two seem different. Happier. Gayer. ”

Zoey grins, “Because we are. Happier and gayer.”

Mira snorts into her iced americano.

Jinu leans forward, mock whispering, “Wait. You’re telling me the fake dating actually turned into real dating?”

“Yes,” Mira says, tone completely deadpan, “tragic, isn’t it?”

Zoey nudges her, “You love it.”

“I really do.”

Rumi blinks, “You know I was like, eighty percent sure it was fake from the start?”

“You told me you were ninety-nine percent sure,” Jinu cuts in.

“I left one percent for gay miracles!”

“Okay but like,” Zoey interjects, raising her hand dramatically, “in our defense, we really thought we could keep it just an act.”

“You brought her a bouquet of octopus plushies,” Rumi says flatly, “You lost the right to say ‘just an act’.”

“I had a vision,” Zoey mutters.

Jinu sighs, “Honestly, I’m just glad you two figured it out before one of you moved to a remote mountain to ‘reflect on your feelings’ or something dramatic like that.”

Mira shrugs, sipping her drink, “Don’t tempt me. I already found a really nice cabin in Jeju.”

“NO,” Zoey says firmly, pulling Mira closer by the sleeve, “You’re not allowed to emotionally retreat anymore. If you get overwhelmed, we’re kissing about it.”

“Oh no,” Mira deadpans, “forced affection. Whatever shall I do.”

“You love me.”

“Unfortunately.”

Rumi looks between them, then tosses a napkin at Jinu, “We’ve been replaced as the gayest couple in the room.”

“You were never the gayest couple in the room,” Mira says without looking up from her drink.

They all burst into laughter.

Outside, the sky begins to dim into soft sunset tones, golden light pouring through the café windows. Zoey gives Mira’s hand a gentle squeeze under the table.

This time, there’s no pretending. No what-ifs.

Just Mira and Zoey. 

Together. For real.

And way too gay for their own good.

The end. For real.