Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

The first thing they do after sealing the new Honmoon is to promise never to hide anything from each other again.

They’ve just gotten back after improvising the song that changed everything and saving the tens of thousands of people present in the audience. They’re all still breathless and confused when Mira uncharacteristically pulls them into a desperate embrace and makes them swear it. Her hands are shaking, they all are.

Many tears are shed, sobbed apologies and affirmations of love and care are muffled by the embrace but not any less true, and their hold tightens to the point that it starts to hurt. Neither of them makes a move to lessen it, though. Not yet. It’s not enough to erase the ache, the weight of the deceit, the hurtful words, but it’s enough for them to know they’ll be okay eventually. 

They sit together the following night, as close as they can physically be while sitting in a circle on the floor of their living room, and they talk. They talk until the rising sun kisses the mountain peaks in the distance, until neither of them can fight the weight of sleep off of their eyelids anymore. Rumi explains everything. From what little she knows of her parents, to Celine, to the slow spread of her markings, to the apparition of her demon qualities. She tells them about how lost she had felt after the Takedown hijack, about her desperate attempt to reach their mentor, her only maternal figure, about the request she had made of being eliminated for good. She tells them about Jinu as tears start to fall, about the camaraderie she’d found in him that she’d never thought she could ever have, about his betrayal, about his sacrifice. She tells them about the fear, about the pain, about the remorse.

Mira and Zoey listen, really listen. All three of them cry more times than they can count. They never break physical contact, trading hand holding for a hand resting on a shoulder, linked arms for tightly clutched pajama tops… They touch like it's a lifeline. As if any material distance between them would effectively rid them of their ability to breathe.

They fall asleep in Rumi’s bed entangled with each other, like they hadn’t done in maybe months, Rumi securedly nestled in between them. Their bodies are heavy with exhaustion but they have a newly lifted weight off their shoulders. They will need more time to heal, but right now, this is enough.

Except, Zoey doesn’t feel right.

She takes longer than Rumi or Mira to fall asleep that night, snuggled comfortably against their leader's side. She feels content, she does, and she had already forgiven the hurt long before Rumi had laid herself bare and explained everything. She loves her best friends. They are her persons. The love she has for them knows no bounds, and she simply cannot imagine her life without them in it. She trusts them, and they trust her.

But she still feels off. Something feels very wrong, and the guilt does not want to settle in her stomach. Always churning.

Because they had all promised, no more hiding, no more big secrets. 

But Zoey does have a secret. One she has been holding onto for a good six years now. One she hasn’t ever shared before. Not to anyone, not as a metaphorical lyric only she knows the true meaning of, not even as a self-soothing murmur into the night air. One she cannot possibly share with her two friends without it changing everything.

Zoey promised, but she doesn’t think she can do it. Not yet, anyway.

In due time, she tells herself, she will. She has to, really. But as she comes to terms with the idea of it, she can’t help but feel dread pool into her insides. 

When sleep finally claims her, her dreams are filled with hot pink and apprehension.

For years now, she had hoarded excuses not to say anything. 

In her defense, it hadn’t been intentional at first. But the more time passed, the larger the secret grew, and the harder it got to actually get it out at all. She doesn’t quite know when it started exactly, but she does remember the first time the thought occurred to her. The first rush, the first tug on her heartstrings.

It had been about a month since the preselections to join Celine’s new agency had begun. Zoey was competing against dozens of other girls in hopes of being offered a position as a trainee, pushing herself a little harder with every passing day. The competition was tough, full of young girls who had grown up with the Sunlight Sisters and held them as a primary inspiration behind their will to debut in the first place. Getting to work under one of the historical girlgroup’s former members was a dream come true for many, and the company had specified that they were going to be very selective. All of the contenders present were not only talented, but also radically determined to win.

When she had first joined the contest, Zoey had been somewhat confident in her own abilities, having flown from Burbank for the occasion. But the more time passed, and the more she interacted with her fellow competitors, the more her own shortcomings and weaknesses seemed to weigh her down. Her Korean was more than adequate, but her American accent was cutting. She was always working on her diction and pronunciation, but she would still occasionally mispronounce things. Having grown up in the US for most of her life, she would also occasionally miss out on culturally significant social cues, wouldn’t understand some of the references or jokes thrown her way, effectively alienating her slightly from the other girls. Not by much, but still just enough for her to feel the invisible gap. 

She easily made up for it with her abilities and infectious sociability, but the knowledge that she could never fully fit in with the others was enough to make her doubt whether or not she really had a place there. While she was relatively liked by the contestants, she didn’t really form any genuine connections with anyone.

It was then that she had her first real interaction with Choi Mira.

She had only spoken with Mira a few times at this point. Polite greetings in passing, small talk in waiting rooms and corridors… Nothing significant, never enough to get a glimpse of who she really was, and always initiated by herself. The taller girl, a model and underground dancer, was known among the circles Zoey would frequent as standoff-ish and intimidating. She was always one of the tallest people in the room, chin held high and body language guarded, with sharp looks and even sharper skills. People generally didn’t quite know what to think of her.

So when Zoey’s name rang out along with Mira’s when the time came to form pairs for the next eleminatory steps of the competition, she truly did not know what to expect. They would have to perform a song of their choice, come up with their own choreography and arrangement, and compete against other duos in order to reach the next stage. Zoey now knows that this had been a test to see if Celine could find two people who could work well as a unit, and who had the potential of forming a link with the Honmoon and becoming demon hunters together. Back then, it had felt like being thrown into the maw of a wild tiger.

Their first real conversation as teammates was awkward, but not unpleasant. Zoey spoke way too much, anxious to fill in the silence and inherently embarrassing herself for life, while Mira watched in equal measures of bewilderment and amusement. It did get a chuckle out of her, though, which may or may not have felt like winning the whole damn competition back then.

They eventually settled on a song that could showcase both of their very different sets of skills in equal measure. It was an ambitious choice, with intense beats, lyrically complex rapping verses and intricate harmonies, but Mira seemed confident that they could pull it off. They started rehearsing together every day; setting up the line distribution, coming up with the choreography and making the song their own. They made a great team, as it turned out.

Mira was… Nice. Reserved, but nice. They seemed like a very unlikely duo from an outsider's perspective, but quickly found that their personalities and aptitudes complemented each others' really well.

It was during one of these rehearsals that Zoey first looked at Mira, really looked at her. 

Of course, she’d known how pretty the girl was. Really, it was hard not to. There wasn’t a single competitor Zoey had spoken to who hadn’t said something about Mira’s looks at some point or another, either in admiration or in envy. The young lyricist could confidently say that the other girl may have been one of the most stupidly attractive people she'd ever had the pleasure of speaking to. But it really wasn't just that.

Mira was passionate, intelligent, talented, determined… Liking her made sense. It came very naturally, almost like there was no other option.

The thought of doing anything about those newborn feelings didn’t even occur to Zoey at the time. She was content with basking in the excitement that came with a new crush, so she easily settled with that. Zoey had always hopped from one infatuation to another, never quite settling on one person for too long. She had no reason to expect this one to be any different. 

It felt nice, to like someone. It felt nice to like Mira.

Then, they ended up getting selected together. Celine broke the news to them personally, about the true nature of their recruitment, about the Honmoon, about the demon realm, about the Hunters before them, all of it. Or at the very least, what they thought “all of it” meant at the time. She introduced them to Rumi, and their lives changed drastically from then on out. Between the grueling daily physical training and the mental exercises to ensure their connection with the spirit barrier held true, on top of all the preparations that came with training to become an idol and a public figure… Zoey didn’t have time to notice, let alone worry about her feelings for Mira lasting far longer than they had ever done with anyone.

They eventually debuted as HUNTR/X, and their lives entered a state of hecticness that would not relent until two years later. It was both exhausting and exhilarating. Things calmed down for a little while after the promotions of their third album came and went. Demon breaches were still happening, but they were more sparse, allowing them to rest a little for once and focus on what to do next.

Seeing time finally slow down a little around them, Zoey finally got the opportunity to sit with her own feelings and actually face them for the first time since her life as a hunter began. 

She quickly and worriedly realized that what she felt towards Mira was nothing like her past crushes, that she had been cultivating this affection for well over three years now, and that it hadn’t gone anywhere. No, her feelings hadn’t died down, quite the contrary. It seemed like they grew a little more with each passing day, somehow. 

They weren’t the same as they had been at the very start at all; tentative, admirative, easy. It had all bloomed into something a lot more intimate. A lot more real.

Rumi and Mira had easily become the most important people in Zoey's life, and had become a core part of it. Her feelings for Mira manifested in much the same way. Zoey loved her so deeply as a person, was so enchanted by everything she was and stood for, that she wasn't sure it was even possible not to.

And by now, she was admittedly panicking a little bit. 

More free time meant more time around her fellow members, more time around the object of her traitorous affection, friendly dates, movie nights, sleepovers, cuddles, you name it. More time to spend in her head, overthinking every bit of their interactions past and future, worrying about whether or not she was at all obvious.

Zoey was positively mortified. Every minute spent by Mira's side was a cruel reminder of what had taken root in her chest, and she couldn’t get enough of it. Yet, the thought of doing anything about it, of admitting it to anyone – especially Mira herself – terrified her to no end. This had the potential of ruining their dynamic, ruining the group, hereby dooming the world for however many years it would take to find the new generation of hunters.

She didn’t even know for sure if Mira was into girls, for crying out loud. 

Now, sure, there were some signs that could lead one into that path of thinking. Mira’s casual wardrobe certainly tended to lean toward the masculine side of things on occasion, for example. And she did have a specific and elaborate taste for alternative music and fashion. There were also potential clues in her speech and mannerisms; Mira favored the company of other women, she was effortlessly chivalrous, she didn't perform femininity in a way she didn't consider to be fitting for herself, she never shied from feminist rhetoric despite the strong aversion still present in mainstream Korean society… She manspread, for heaven's sake.

However, Zoey was never one to generalize. Realistically, none of these traits could truly define anyone so drastically. And even added up, they didn't truly mean anything. Gender and sexuality were experienced by everyone in very various ways.

The three of them were closer than ever, but they had never outwardly spoken about their own relationship history in too much detail, nor had they ever breached the subject of queer identities and preferences. It just never came up. 

She did know both Mira and Rumi were at least supportive of the LGBTQ+ community, what with how much of their fanbase seemed to be associated with it, funnily enough. Most of their concerts hosted crowds proudly holding at least a few flags up, their songs were frequently embraced by the community and played at pride events and parades – much to Zoey's utmost delight – and they had had many direct interactions with queer fans opening up to them about their own identities and about how much HUNTR/X's music had helped them figure things out. They all cried every time. All three of them were very vocal about their support, it really was no secret.

So while Zoey hadn’t felt the need to come out to them as bisexual quite yet, she found comfort in knowing that at the very least, neither of them would have any issue with it. Besides, the fact that neither of the two would ever bring up the subject or talk about it probably just meant they were both straight and assumed the same of her by default, or something. 

Zoey was grasping at straws at this point. Any reason became good enough of an excuse to keep her feelings hidden forever.

And it was fine. Zoey had feelings for her queer-coded but almost certainly straight best friend, which was fine. She would live. Her stupid crush would vanish eventually.

Then, Mira got a girlfriend, effectively throwing all of Zoey’s reasoning out the window in one fell swoop.

Zoey had been the first to find out, too, purely by accident. It was just her luck, really. 

They were still on break, enjoying their newfound freedom while still occasionally brainstorming future songs. Zoey's sleeping schedule was ruined beyond repair, staying up late enough that she had somehow synced back up with her family living in California which had an eight hour time difference. She spent her nights writing, doom scrolling and catching up on shows and movies she'd been meaning to watch… And what a life it was!

On one of such nights, as she made her way to grab herself her usual three AM snack, she heard a noise. She'd assumed it was one of her two flatmates getting a glass of water or a bite to eat after waking up in the middle of the night, naturally, so she really wasn’t mentally guarded enough for the scene that greeted her when she stepped foot into the kitchen.

Mira, wearing one of the hottest form-fitting dresses Zoey had ever seen her wear – and she had seen Mira in her fair share of hot dresses thank you very much – pinning another girl against the countertop, aggressively and passionately kissing her. On the mouth.

Zoey's world stopped.

Because not only was Mira kissing someone, but she was kissing a girl. Tongue and all. In their kitchen.

It had truly, physically felt like a slap in the face back then. 

Everything that had been in her hands, phone and notebooks alike, just dropped.

Needless to say, things were awkward. As soon as the two noticed Zoey's presence, they immediately broke apart. She had never seen Mira look this embarrassed before.

Mira formally introduced her girlfriend – her girlfriend – to Rumi and Zoey, and things were good for a while. The girl, Seyoung, would spend a lot of time at the apartment. They would occasionally have dinner together with her, and even have her join in on a few movie nights. Zoey had assumed that maybe, just maybe, seeing her dear friend in a happy relationship would be enough for her stupid, clingy little heart to move on… Clearly, it was not.

And it was hard, because Seyoung really was a sweetheart. She and Zoey had a lot of things in common. They would have probably been incredible friends if time had allowed them to, and if Zoey’s jealousy didn’t churn in her belly every time she saw the two of them together. She never dared let it show, though, and always made sure to be as accommodating and kind as she could.

Zoey had a difficult time being physically affectionate with Mira at the time. It hurt a little too much. If the taller girl noticed the distance, and she must have, she never mentioned it.

The relationship didn’t last. Five months later, the two had broken up. Mira never told either Rumi or Zoey about the specifics, only that it had been on good terms. Zoey really, really hated how elated she’d felt about it then.

With that, she found another excuse not to bring her own feelings up, too. What kind of friend would she have been if she'd suddenly confessed after Mira's breakup? 

This charade kept on for three more years. 

Years of putting it off and hoping that her feelings would magically disappear. Years of falling harder and harder with every passing day, no matter her resolve. With time, she became comfortable with the idea of never telling her at all, of living with the longing for as long as necessary so long as she could stay beside her.

But now, at the dawn of their final true victory, after finally, finally achieving what they’d set out to do since the very beginning and almost losing each other in the process, after promising not to hide anything from each other ever again… There Zoey is. Holding a six year old secret.

She is head over heels in love with Mira. That much is very clear. It hasn't been just a crush for a very, very long time. 

And now, she has to find a way to hold her end of the deal and tell her. 

What a nightmare.

Chapter Text

The days that follow are tentative at first, neither of the three of them fully knowing where to stand atop their disturbed normalcy. Anxious to see if the new Honmoon holds, waiting for new cracks to form, helping Bobby with damage control… But thankfully, things quickly and naturally fall back into place.

They make a point of doing everything they used to not being able to bring Rumi along for, anything they can think of. Sleepovers become an almost daily occurrence, they go to the bathhouse more often than ever, get massages and spa days… They get to take Rumi shopping to renew her wardrobe for more breathy and personal items of clothing, too. She gets to find herself again, slowly but surely. And everything starts to feel right again.

Neither of them thought they could get any closer than they already were, yet their bond seems to tighten. Maybe it’s the Honmoon’s doing, maybe it’s them, maybe both. Neither of them care for the specifics.

Rumi introduces them to Jinu’s familiars, too, when she realizes that they hadn’t been sealed back to the demon realm with the others. Mira is apprehensive at first, but the large tiger and six eyed magpie quickly become integral parts of their household. Zoey is thrilled by the addition to their little family.

Before they know it, two weeks have passed since the start of their hiatus, filled with rediscovery and joy. When they aren’t out spending quality time, they relax at home, making good use of their expensive couch.

Today is no different. Zoey is laying on the far-end of the couch with her head resting on the armrest. Her legs are bent so that her thighs can support an open magazine and allow her to read comfortably. She had been meaning to check this one out for a while, still giddy at the sight of interviews and photoshoots featuring HUNTR/X no matter how many years it has been since they first debuted. But as interested as she is with it, she is having a hard time focusing on the reading part.

She turns the pages at an appropriate reading interval, allows a small giggle to slip out every now and then, holding the act as best she can. But her eyes aren't even glossing over the words printed on the page. Instead, they glide towards the other end of the couch like magnets.

Mira is wearing comfortable leisure clothes today, neither of them having planned to head outside at all. Baggy sweatpants that seem to make her legs look longer somehow, complimenting the small of her waist which is showing thanks to a cropped and well-worn band T-shirt. Her hair is down, scalp free from the tension of her usual updo, and her gold-framed speck glasses are perched onto her nose. Her sharp eyes are relaxed as they scan over the pages of her own book, clearly actually being able to read unlike some , and a soft smile graces her lips. It's slightly lopsided, and that's how Zoey knows it's real. Unguarded.

She hadn’t meant to stare. Really. It simply… tended to happen, nothing she can do about that. And Mira looks so lovely with her glasses on that she’d thought about hiding her contact lenses on numerous occasions just to see her wear them more. 

Mira looks more relaxed than she had seen her in months. Zoey can’t look away.

A sound breaks the silence then, and Zoey hears her own ringtone from somewhere in the apartment. She doesn’t feel like moving, and briefly considers ignoring it; she is way too comfortable to get up from her spot right now, and her view is to die for. 

The ring is suddenly accompanied by Rumi’s voice; “Zoey, It’s your dad!”

She pounces off the couch quicker than she can think and tangles her foot into a comforter, almost falling off the backrest when she attempts to jump over it. She hears Mira cackle behind her and doesn’t care. She bounces to Rumi’s room where she’d left her phone and retrieves it from the tiger’s mouth, ever so helpful, leaving a loud kiss on the top of his head for good measure.

When she picks up, her smile is already hurting her cheeks. “Hey dad!”

Her father doesn’t call often, not being one to use his phone much. But when he does, their calls always last hours. Zoey is more than fine with this arrangement, balancing it out with a nonstop flow of texting and selfies, knowing he won’t always reply but always reads it all. He sends her letters for her birthday and for the new year every year, she has them stacked preciously in a shoebox under her bed.

Their conversation is easy. Their last call was two months ago, yet it picks up as though it had happened a week prior. He asks about her break, about the girls, about her health. She paces comfortably to her own room as they talk about everything and nothing. Eventually, he asks the question she knew was coming. “Say, honey, how do you feel about coming home for a little bit? I feel like you never get to have this long of a break. We all miss you here, would love to have you.”

As much as he clearly tries to mask it, he sounds almost desperate when he asks her. How heartless would she be to say no?

Zoey’s steps are very close to being skips when she barges into the living room two hours later. “I’m going home next week,” she happily belts out into the space, knowing fully well that her girls had heard the entire conversation already. Mira is still sitting on the couch, and Zoey watches her as she hooks one arm over the backrest to turn towards her with a smile. A real one, again. Her heart does a little flutter in response.

She knows Mira sends a snarky reply her way, but she doesn’t hear it. Because at that moment, she decides that she will tell her before she leaves. It almost feels like if she doesn’t, she will chicken out of every opportunity that follows. She has to tell her, she will . 

Zoey continues to think about doing it. She thinks about it at lunch, in bed, during movie night, at the bathhouse, during grocery runs, while packing for the trip. A week passes, and on the drive to the airport, she still thinks about it. 

Her gate is being announced on the speakers, and she feels like crying, because she can’t go. She can’t go when she hasn’t said it yet. 

She doesn’t move with the other passengers right away. Her feet are rooted into place, and she has a feeling that were she to try and walk, her knees would buckle and fail her. She holds onto the raised handle of her luggage for dear life and hopes, prays, that she doesn't look as floored as she feels. She can feel the worried glances Rumi and Mira are sending her way and she cannot bring herself to look at them.

She attempts to ground herself nonetheless, with a deep breath that comes out shakier than she’d like. She’s not meant to be the one acting so fragile in such moments. Zoey is supposed to be the glue, the foundation. Zoey doesn’t tremble, doesn’t hesitate, doesn’t fear, and she certainly doesn’t get sick at the mere thought of getting on a plane away from her bandmates.

When she does look up, she feels her eyes begin to sting because the same anguish shows on their faces too. She hates it.

“Don't get too bored without me,” she manages to blurt out. She means it to be light, to lift off a bit of the distress they are all struggling with right now, but her chuckle comes out shaky and cracked. Like a plea. Her chest feels like it’s about to pop open.

Her eyes meet Mira’s and she almost says it, then. But her nerves get the better of her, and the overthinking claws at her throat to forcingly close it up. She wants to say it so badly, like this is her very last chance somehow, but she can’t bring herself to.

It’s embarrassing, really. Laughable.

She hopes her own eyes don’t betray her. They might. 

Mira doesn’t say anything. She just opens her arms in a quiet offer, and Zoey immediately rushes into the embrace like it’s a lifeline. She buries her face into the curve of the taller girl's neck, like she's done hundreds of times before, and Mira's hold on her tightens until it's almost crushing. It's perfect, it’s not enough.

Rumi joins the hug and Zoey clings to their leader’s jacket so tightly that it might honestly rip.

She can feel a small chunk of her heart break off, which is so dramatic. She’s happy to get the chance of going back home, she really is. And she will only be away for a month, at that. But they have never been apart for this long before, and these girls have been her lifeline for so long that she doesn't know how she'll be able to do anything on her own. “Call us often, please,” she hears Rumi say. She almost cancels her ticket on the spot.

The last call for her gate echoes in the hall and they all know she can't push it back any longer. Mira's embrace relents, Rumi steps back, it feels like torture.

Before she can think it through and ruin this for herself by holding herself back, Zoey lifts up onto her tippy toes slightly. Her hand is trembling where it cups Mira's left cheek. She stretches her neck and presses her lips onto the other side of the woman's face, right under her cheekbone. She allows herself to risk this, cheek kisses are nothing they haven't done before. It's familiar. It’s safe. 

It's not a confession, but Zoey puts her feelings into it nonetheless.

She has to hold back tears when the plane’s engines begin to roar. She eventually falls asleep thirty five thousand feet into the air, one thousand miles away from the two people she swore to never let go of. Five thousand left to go.

Her father is first in line at the gate to greet her when she lands, and the tightness of his embrace is almost enough to erase the ache of separation and of twelve hours spent in the air all at once. Zoey breathes in his cologne and for a moment, everything feels right. She happily greets his wife with a hug of her own, holds her baby brother into her arms — he’s just turned four and looks just like his mother — and easily slips into the motion of their family life.

Her dad dotes on her like he always does after she lands, taking her luggage from her and opening car doors. He won’t stop rambling about his plans for the upcoming month, clearly thrilled to have his daughter all to himself for much longer than he usually does, and Zoey happily aids her step mother in teasing him about it during the drive home. She feels her chest fill with endearment and glee when her brother joins in.

She’d missed this, terribly.

Things hadn’t been easy at first, when her father remarried. Zoey was still too heartbroken by her parent’s divorce to stomach it at the time. But things got easier, with time and with efforts being made on all sides. Week-long visits that had once been awkward and apprehensive had now morphed into something warm and beautiful. The arrival of Noah, now half splayed out on her lap as he excitedly recounts his day to her, is one of Zoey’s favorite things to have happened in her life; an easy and solid top five.

They always make her feel like she’s never left, because she is always with them in some way. Always part of their family in their mind. 

They have dinner as soon as they get home, something easy and familiar, and Zoey hands each of them presents from South Korea. Noah also gets gifts from Rumi and Mira which he is thrilled by, and she makes sure to send them a video of him opening each box before heading to bed. As she lays there, in her childhood bedroom, in the house she’s grown up in, Zoey feels her eyes begin to heat up with tears she doesn't even attempt to hold back this time. She cries quietly, because she realizes that as wonderful as she feels here, with them, as much as it is home to her, this hasn’t actually been home for a long time. She cries because whatever home is, she's just left it back in Seoul.

Zoey makes good of her promise and calls often.

Of course, she enjoys her stay. She’s missed the beaches, the people, the energy, the wildlife. Her father holds his end of the bargain by scheduling plenty of activities to catch up and form new memories — Zoey has to make him crank it down many times — for the whole family but also making time for just the two of them. She meets up with old friends, family members, and old neighbors. But as great as it all is, she finds that she cannot spend a single day without hearing at least one of her girls’ voices.  

She floods their group chat with pictures of the scenery, of food, of herself and her family. When she visits the aquarium, she sends no less than one hundred and fourteen photos. They leave personalized emoji reactions on every single one.

Facetimes become an unspoken ritual. She calls when the time difference allows, in the early morning as they get ready for bed, in the afternoon when they awake, late at night when she struggles to fall asleep. Noah often insists to join in for a little bit. He’s never met the girls in person, although Zoey would love nothing more than to invite them over to Burbank one day — she ignores the thoughts that come with the idea of introducing Mira to her father specifically — but her brother has an adorable relationship with her bandmates nonetheless. 

She’s just woken up, bright and early and just in time to wish her father a good day at work, and she is already bored out of her mind. She decides to call, knowing the time should be near her girls’ bedtime. Rumi is the first to pick up, charcoal facemask on and a toothbrush hanging from her mouth.

“Heyyy Zo,” is said around a mouthful of foamy toothpaste, a huge smile barely holding it all in and Zoey wants to pinch her cheeks so badly it hurts. “Mira’s in the shower, she’ll probably join in after.”

“Hiii Rumi, how was your day,” She asks excitedly, slumping sideways onto an armchair in the living room, legs hanging off the armrest. “I’m so bored right now I need you to tell me everything you did in great detail… Otherwise I might cave in and fry off any of my remaining grey matter by watching the infomercial channel again.” That earns her a chuckle from the other end of the line. She hears Rumi rinse out her mouth before coming back into view as she grabs her phone from beside the sink. She’s probably on her way to her own bedroom to wait for her mask to set.

“We didn’t do much, which was great . Bobby did come in at some point to check in — he says hi by the way — but other than that I just went to the gym in the morning and then caught up on my reading,” she sees the other girl throw herself into bed and sigh in contentment. The image then blurs for a second as Rumi turns her phone in a different direction, and her screen is invaded by bright blue. “Derpy’s here too.”

Zoey’s shriek is loud, but thankfully no one is around for the resulting ear ringing. “Hi kitty!!”

“He sits in front of your door sometimes, you know,” she hears her leader say off camera as the tiger’s head slowly turns towards the phone that has been extended in front of him. His strabismus locks in a little when his lazy pupils expand and focus on the screen, and Zoey swears a smile tugs at his muzzle. “It’s really cute, he could easily just go through it but he waits for you.”

“Awww, Derp… I miss you too baby boy,” Zoey coos, and Rumi comes back into focus. She sets her phone down against something and begins the lengthy process of undoing her long braid while keeping the conversation going. “Isn’t it really early for you right now? How are you already so under-stimulated?” 

The youngest lets out a dramatic sigh and slumps further into the armchair. “Dad and Suzan just left for work and Noah’s at his grandparents’ for a few days. I would try to go back to bed, but we both know that’s not possible for me now that I’m awake.” Rumi chuckles again at that, hands busy with the familiar untangling. Zoey continues, “I could ring some of my friends and drag them to the skatepark or something, but I’m the only morning person of the group chat, so now I have to wait .”

“Poor you.”

It's then that the image of Rumi shrinks to take only half the screen and Mira’s deep tone greets Zoey’s ears. “What’d I miss,” she asks around a yawn, she's wearing an oversized Tshirt, bare faced and the ends of her long hair is damp from her shower. No glasses in sight, which earns a pout from Zoey. 

“Zoey’s bored at eight in the morning, if you can believe it,” Rumi helpfully fills in. She's done with undoing her hairdo and has now started untangling it with her fingers. 

“Oh, I can,” Mira snickers as she lays down in her own bed. The warm light of her bedside lamp makes her glow, and Zoey finds great pleasure in knowing that she can stare all she wants without the fear of getting caught.

It's midnight in Seoul, so the youngest knows the call won't last too long. But they still talk for about half an hour. Rumi is the first to hang up, having made plans in the morning and needing her beauty sleep, which leaves Zoey and Mira alone for a little while.

The lyricist can tell her friend is getting tired. Her responses keep on getting shorter and more sluggish, her voice raspier and heavy with exhaustion. The changes are barely noticeable, but Zoey has fallen asleep by Mira’s side enough times to recognize the telltale signs. Neither of them want to stop talking, not yet, so Zoey continues to ramble on, and on, and on, and Mira listens.

Eventually, Zoey focuses back onto her phonescreen while still in the middle of an anecdote from the previous day, only to find that Mira has lost the battle and has quietly fallen asleep. The oldest’s phone is somehow still propped up in her hand, facing herself, but her face is nestled into her pillow so only half of it is visible. Her hair is sliding off her cheek, a few strands catching onto her eyelashes. The slow rise and fall of her shoulder is the only indication that the call didn't simply crash.

She looks so peaceful like this, her eyebrows are relaxed in that specific arch that only happens in slumber, and the moonlight kisses her skin in such a tender way that Zoey almost believes the light itself is taunting her from behind the screen. 

Zoey goes to end the facetime, but her thumb hovers over the hang up button for a good minute as she feels the urge to bask in the moment for a little longer. A thought washes over her, then, of staying on call. She thinks of muting herself and staying with Mira the whole night until she wakes up, to be the first to wish her a good morning, as if it were any other day. As if they weren't six thousand miles away from each other.

Instead, she takes a screenshot of her friend’s sleeping form and sends it in the group chat under the guise of being teasing material, even though Mira looks like a painting. She will be reprimanded for it in the morning, she really doesn't care.

She eventually presses the glaring red icon. Her finger doesn’t shake, but something in her breaks when Mira’s face vanishes from her phone.

Only three more weeks. She can manage that.

Chapter Text

Zoey decides that whoever came up with the saying that distance makes the heart grow fonder can go royaly fuck themselves. 

Because, evidently, infuriatingly, they are correct. And for that, they deserve no peace. 

Of course, she's enjoying her stay to the best of her capacity. Her father makes time for her, she spoils Noah as much as she can get away with, she gets to catch up with the few childhood friends she has whenever she likes, she spends half of her free time on a long chair or on a towel enjoying the sun… And her instagram is regularly flooded with new pictures, much to the fans’ delight.

But her mind is often adrift, and her current notebook is quickly being filled up with nothing but heartfelt poems about longing written in pink ink. 

She'll have to buy a new one pretty soon, she's already thinking about which of the stickers from her collection to adorn it with. Probably a selection following a palette of reds and magentas. For no particular reason.

Despite having been holding onto her feelings for so long, she still gets surprised at their capacity of finding ways to grow . 

Zoey sees her everywhere; in the colors of a particularly vibrant sunset, in the taste of the rooibos tea her stepmom makes her try one day and in the melody of a new favorite song. Mira’s presence is constantly holding space in her subconscious, like an unrelenting embrace she has no intention of getting out of.

And that was already the case before, but it is as if being thousands of miles apart had grown her heartstrings taunt, like the bewitched beating organ had stayed in Seoul and still remained stubbornly attached. Everything is enhanced, and it aches in a way that swallows her entirely. She revels in it. 

Mira’s face shows up on every page that meets her pen, carved out of the paper with reverent strokes. Zoey has not needed a photo reference to draw her for way longer than she cares to admit, features etched into her very soul. 

She really misses the feeling of Mira’s knuckles between her own.

She's two weeks into her stay in Burbank, on another of their daily calls. Zoey is getting ready for bed as she dramatically recounts the events of her day to Mira. 

Rumi wasn't able to join this time around, having claimed a last minute change of plans and promising to join in on the next one. This happens occasionally, but Mira doesn't seem worried, so Zoey doesn't think anything of it. And it's not like she can complain, she wouldn't dare even dream of it really, but having one-on-one time with the object of her affection is as thrilling as it is jarring. 

She is sitting on her bed now, enthusiastically describing her paddle boarding outing with a childhood friend and complaining about a sunburn on her upper back as she folds her laundry, phone snuck between her raised shoulder and her ear, when a low voice at the other end of the line interrupts her mid-sentence.

“Your American accent is starting to resurface lately.” 

It comes out low and even, as though it was not meant to be said aloud, like the thought just slipped out organically. 

“A– Huh?” Zoey sputters, her train of thought brutally and irrevocably derailed. The shirt she was folding slips from her grasp – her phone almost follows from its spot against her temple in shock – but she makes no effort to reach for it. Is it that noticeable? Does she sound weird?  She had assumed something like this would happen with a stay lasting this long, but she suddenly feels self conscious. 

She tries to sound nonchalant, but she has also never been a very good liar. “Really? I, er… didn't notice,” she allows a nervous chuckle to follow. “That’s funny.” Not really. Does she sound funny?

“I like it,” is Mira’s simple response. Easy, composed. Zoey almost chokes on air. “Reminds me of when we first met.” She almost sounds wistful then, or at least as much as the lead dancer can sound like anything but monotonous. “It’s cute.”

And Zoey is very thankful that this is not a facetime and just a regular phonecall, because she does not want to have to explain why she bends down and forcefully shoves her face into her mattress to muffle an actual yell. Blissfully unaware of her current state, the source of her panic keeps talking .

“Sorry, you were talking about the stingrays you saw. What else did you guys see while you were out there?” And Mira has the gall to actually sound interested, like none of those words escaped her mouth at all. Like it's all normal . And, admittedly, Zoey feels a little silly. Because it is . Normal, that is. This is absolutely something friends say to each other. Except her heart is beating out of her chest, and she doesn't trust herself with the ability of formulating a proper sentence.

Stupid Mira with her stupidly attractive voice and stupidly attractive face and stupidly sweet words she probably doesn't even understand the weight of.

Only two more weeks. Two more weeks, and she can make sure to make the taller girl suffer for all of her blatant attempts at giving her a heart attack over the phone.

Later, when her lights are off and she drifts off to sleep, she is surrounded with thoughts of grounding embraces and gold rimmed glasses. 

Zoey is usually the one initiating her calls with the girls. She tends to have busier days than the both of them, and her schedule is more unpredictable than theirs, so it was an unspoken agreement that she would be the one to call when she is free to do so. Neither Mira or Rumi would want to accidentally call her while she is busy or out of the house with someone.

So when she gets a facetime call from Mira while in the middle of a very busy afternoon of sunbathing in swimwear in her father's backyard, it is somewhat of a surprise. Definitely not an unwelcome one, but a surprise nonetheless. She obviously picks up, but not before swiftly fixing her bangs thanks to the reflection of her phonescreen.

“Missed me already?” Is the first thing Zoey says when she picks up, a teasing smile pulling at her lips to hopefully look more composed than she feels.

A casual and truthful “Yeah,” is Mira's immediate and honest reply, and Zoey wants her long chair to swallow her whole. She has to consciously stiffen the squeak that fights to slip out of her throat and barely manages. 

So much for wanting to seem nonchalant and take the upper hand.

Mira doesn't even seem to notice the turmoil she has caused because she continues to speak, as though everything were completely and utterly normal. As if she hadn't just caused Zoey’s lungs to collapse on themselves. This happens way too often, lately. “What are you up to?” The pink-haired asks while looking down at her phone, which seems to be held onto her lap. One of her legs is propped up onto the chair she's sitting in, allowing her to rest her elbow onto her knee and propping her face into the palm of her hand. The angle should most definitely not be as enticing as it is. She is wearing a baseball cap and what seems to be dance rehearsal clothes, sporty and comfortable and somehow still stylish.

Zoey thinks this is all very unfair.

“Tanning,” she replies simply, thankful to her own voice for not betraying her inner struggle with too much of a tremor. She briefly holds up her phone for good measure, to give Mira a wider angle of herself on the chair and of the garden bathed in sunlight. “Be jealous.” Mira only gives her an amused hum.

She brings the phone back to her own face and continues on with the context of her afternoon. “Dad will be home soon, then we'll be heading out for a barbecue at my aunt's,” she provides with an easy smile, adjusting her sunglasses. “I barely ate for lunch, just so I could stuff myself to the brim with free food later. I’m famished right now,” she sighs loudly and raises her free arm above her head dramatically to illustrate her predicament. That earns her a snort from the other end of the line, which she counts as a win. She turns her attention back to her screen, then. “What about you? I can see the dance studio ceiling in the background. You do know what hiatus means, right?”

She watches as Mira shifts position, sitting back on the chair and raising her phone to be more eye leveled. “I was only filming a few covers, nothing major,” Zoey can see that she is wearing light makeup, and that her temples and neck are lightly shining with sweat. Ugh . “Wouldn't want our fans to get too restless,” the model adds with a smirk.

Zoey quirks a brow. “You better send me them.”

Mira gives her an eyeroll at that, but her smile is easy and relaxed. “Hm… You'll have to wait for me to upload them, I fear.”

Zoey gasps dramatically at the rejection. “I don't even get special treatment as your best friend ? Crazy work,” she scoffs as she turns to lay on her stomach to even out her tan, raising her sunglasses to properly glare at the fiend who has the audacity to smirk . “Do I get to know the songs at least? Or are you gonna gatekeep that too.”

“ Ice on my Teeth and God’s Menu . I’m gonna be doing 28 Reasons too, in a bit.”

Zoey is going to die.

Time flies. The young burbank-raised glitter cannon of a woman is now at the end of her third week in California, and she is happily skipping through the living room in wide circles while on the phone with her mother, back in Daegu.

Much like she does with her bandmates, Zoey makes sure to send her plenty of updates on a daily manner. They have a habit of calling once a week, every Sunday, which they've kept up during her stay. 

She's been rambling for what must be about an hour about everything she's done for the past week, going anywhere from giving her updates on childhood friends her mom remembers, to describing the leopard shark she'd seen from her surfboard just a few days before. Her mom, ever the active listener, fills in with her own questions and remarks while getting her dinner ready. It’s easy, it always is. She can hear the smile in her mother’s voice with every reaction.

“Oh, oh! Olivia says hi, by the way! We went shopping yesterday, I got this nice knitted sweater– I need to send you a picture, remind me. It’s, like, everything I’ve ever looked for. Anyway, Olivia, right! You remember her, from Judo practice? Super pretty, red hair, with glasses? Well, she has a baby now! Like, a real-life baby! The cutest thing I’ve ever seen. I need to send you pictures of them, too. But yeah, she asked me how you were doing so I told her about your promotion, and your garden, and your cat– how’s Jiwoo by the way? Please pet him for me, like, right now, preferably.”

A happy chaos, as always. 

The conversation eventually drifts to her mother’s life updates. Much less hectic, but Zoey listens attentively nonetheless. There is something about her mom’s voice that helps soothe parts of her that she didn't even know were tense. 

“How are you feeling about coming back? Anything you're looking forward to?” She eventually hears her ask, casually, amidst the sounds of vegetables being chopped.

She's not sure why exactly, but Zoey feels her brain pause at that question specifically. As though it had awakened something. She doesn't realize she's stopped her skipping and has gradually come to a halt until she blinks herself out of the stupor, trying to get her thoughts in order. 

For a little longer than usual, especially coming from her, she is quiet.

She sees her father look up from his book and in her direction from the corner of her eye, probably a little concerned at the sudden stop.

“Something I’m looking forward to…” she repeats, words slow, tentative. 

Her mind races a little bit, going through all of the things she will be coming back to once she flies back to Seoul. She thinks about her mom, who will be much closer geographically and who she will make sure to visit in the week following her arrival. She thinks about the food, she thinks about the ever crowded neon-lit streets, about her spacious room back at their pent house, about her demon pets, about her bandmates. She thinks about her best friends. She thinks about Mira, and about the burning ache in her own chest. 

She feels almost out of breath.

She’s a little lost in thought for an instant, and when she lifts her gaze from where it somehow landed at her feet, her eyes meet her dad’s, comfortably sitting on the couch on the opposite side of the room. He’s still looking at her, checking.

It's odd, to have both of her parents like this – one only a few steps away and the other on the other end of the line, when she hasn't seen them in the same room for well over ten years. But it's also exactly enough. Her mom is quiet, but present. Patient. Zoey knows she is listening, she always is, waiting for Zoey to find her words without an ounce of judgment. And her father looks at her with kind eyes, curious but not overbearing.

She holds eye contact with her father as she says it out loud for the first time in her life.

“I’m going to tell Mira I’m in love with her.”

Zoey decides that she can't possibly let this go on any longer. She has to tell her when she gets back. She doesn't quite know how to proceed yet, she’ll cross that bridge when she gets there, but she knows she has to this time. No matter how hard it is to get the words out, no matter the outcome. She owes Mira as much, but she also owes it to herself.

Her father’s smile is slow and caring and full of unconditional love, and her mother’s soft hum in her ear is much the same.

As excruciatingly long as a month is, it also goes by in a flash. 

Before she knows it, Zoey is already packing her luggage. It's a lot heavier than it was when she got here, what with all of the food and gifts she now has to shove into it, and she even has to add a carry-on bag in order to be able to get everything. 

She feels her entire body vibrate with excitement at the sight of the carefully selected presents she has ready for her loved ones. 

For her mother, she has made a meticulous  and extensive selection of spices and ingredients that are virtually impossible to find in Korea, and that she knows the woman misses from her time living in the United States. She also makes a point of adding on a few trinkets to spoil her as best she can; a gorgeous set of matching bracelets she had found at a farmer's market, three boxes of those cookies she really likes, an expensive fountain pen that she will claim she's found at a thrift store when her mom inevitably asks her about the price... 

One thing she is immensely grateful for now that she has the means is that she gets to pamper her parents as much as she pleases, with no limits, no matter how annoyed they get with her for it. 

For Bobby, she finds room in her bag for the tackiest tourist trap items she could find, making sure they are even more flashy than the ones she got him last year, and the year before that. Ugly plastic sunglasses, 100% polyester graphic Tshirts, cheap keychains, poorly made but ever charming fridge magnets… only the best for her favorite guy around. She cannot wait to see his beaming face when she hands them to him.

For her girls, a gargantuan amount of snacks of all kinds. Obviously . A thoughtful mix of things she knows they love, and stuff she wants to see them try. For Rumi, she adds a personalized guitar pick, a handful of tubes of that one hair mask she loves but can't ever find in Seoul – knowing fully well these won't last her a month –, and a signed copy of a book she will not stop talking about. For Mira, a limited edition eyeshadow palette, a couple of vintage band Tshirts, and a few rare CDs she’s managed to find and knows the girl will absolutely love. 

When she carefully slips the drawings Noah has made for the two girls into the luggage along with their other presents, her cheeks ache from how wide her smile is. 

Goodbyes are always difficult, especially when you have a very cute and broken hearted four year old desperately holding onto your leg. But, Zoey manages.

“You’ll be back soon, okay?” His voice shakes a little. And it's not a question, but a statement. “Promise.” 

She knows she can't cry now, or else his own tears will fall harder, and they will both just keep making each other’s crying worse and worse until the two of them become a sobbing mess on the floor of the airport hall. Zoey’s flight leaves soon, they can't have that. So, she swallows it all back, squats down to be at hislevel, and gives him the most sincere smile she can muster. “Don't worry bud, I’ll be able to come by more often now. I promise.” And it is true. As long as their new Honmoon continues to hold as well as it has, they won't need to rush new releases in hopes of sealing it any longer. This means longer and more frequent breaks, and a far more indulgent schedule.

He looks at her with his big brown glistening eyes as she brushes his short hair back soothingly. He looks hopeful, and his grip on her baggy jean shorts tightens. “Can Mira and Rumi come too next time?”

Zoey’s eyes widen at that. As lovely as the thought is, that's not up to her. And the innocent request briefly snaps her thoughts back to the thing she has planned on doing once she’s gotten back in Seoul, which she certainly doesn't need right now. “Uhm– I…” She stammers weakly, unable to settle on an answer, before her head snaps towards her father standing just a couple of meters away. He seems just as surprised as she is at first, but when his eyes meet hers, his expression morphs into a playful, knowing smirk that she really wants to wipe off his face. Her own helpless and flustered expression must be enough to make him drop the teasing however, because it soon morphs into a warm smile instead. He gives her a quiet nod, one that fills her lungs with hope and warmth, and that's all she really needs.

She turns back towards Noah. “Sure… I’ll ask them. If they want to, they can stay home with us for a little bit. How does that sound?” She processes the thought just as she says it out loud, and something in her chest does a little flip.

His face immediately brightens, practically vibrating at the news.“Okay!! Don't forget! And give them my drawings too!”

Zoey giggles at the cute display, entirely enamored and already missing him before she's even left. She needs to find a way to bribe her dad into indulging her with more facetimes. “I will, I will. They’ll love them,” she swears it, knowing it to be true, then tugs him into an embrace and squeezes, murmuring in his hair. “See you soon, okay?”

He hums into her chest and squeezes back. Don't cry, don't cry, don't cry .

She hugs her stepmother goodbye, and she still manages to keep the tears at bay. But then, her dad outstretches his arms.

Yeah, that'll do it.

Zoey’s tears always come easy to begin with. But a tight embrace with her dad before her departure, now that's just plain cheating. She practically tackles him, and he holds her tight for a while. She basks into it. She knows she will be back soon, sooner than last time. But it doesn't make it less hard to let go.

He eventually does, but not before giving her a final squeeze and leaving a kiss right onto her temple.

“Get home safe, kid.” 

And he is right. She’s going home .

“I’m expecting to see a certain someone on your arm, next time.”

“DAD.”