Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

It’s just past two in the morning when Rumi finally stumbles from the complex’s questionable elevator and towards her apartment. Her keyring spins lazily between the fingertips of one hand while the other holds the convenience store bag of ice cream swaying at her side. She tried to focus on the well-earned treat, to let it distract her from the way her bones ached with every step.

She was almost there.

Just a bit further and then she could finally bury herself beneath her favorite blanket with her ice cream and hide away from the rest of the world. She deserved it, it had been a long day.

Her shift, the unscheduled one, she should add (she hoped Jinu enjoyed his little daytrip with the boys because when they got back, she was going to make him pay for forcing her to cover for him) had been grueling. The bars patrons were not only somehow even more exhausting than usual, but they could see that she had been filling the roles of bartender and server by herself, but did they offer her any grace? No. It meant it she was the only target, and no matter the issue, it was always her fault.

It honestly felt like the universe had put a sign on her back that said “hit me, I’m already down” and handed every customer a baseball bat.

A metal one, at that.

The moment Rumi’s feet make contact with her cat-shaped welcome mat, the porch light above her begins to flicker and every thought of work and rude people disappears from her mind. She looks up at it, letting the keys slow to a stop against her palm when it seems to have stabilized itself a moment later.

‘Just let me unlock the door,’ she repeats it in her mind over and over, silently willing the universe to at least let her have that. Just the thought of needing to not only pull her phone out and turn on the flashlight, but to do it while she was juggling the ice cream and her keys, was overwhelming.

As if to spite her it goes out again.

This time, it stays off for a few seconds too long and she loses the shape of the keys in her hand and the door handle in front of her to the darkness before the light comes back again.

“Oh c’mon, not today,” she knows it’s technically not the same day, but it’s the principle of the matter, it still counts, “please just let me get inside first.”

If it comes out a little whiny then so be it, she gets to be a little whiny today.

The light above her stutters out again, uncaring and ignorant to her pleas and suffering. She tries to quickly shuffle through her keyring to find the one to her apartment, cursing every door in the bar for existing and Bobby for trusting her with their keys. It doesn’t help she’s operating with only one hand and within flashes of light she can’t prepare for.

When she finally gets it picked out, the light stabilizes.

The flickering is gone but in it’s place is a slowly building electrical hum. Which, sure, that's probably not a good thing, but at least she could see for the moment. Rumi goes to push the key into the lock while she’s graced with light, but of course it can’t be that easy. She can’t line it up right and she just scrapes it against the slot instead.

She flips the key around, keeping the rest of her body as still as possible as she tries it again, as if any quick movements could startle the wiring. When the key slots fully she lets out a breath she didn’t know she was holding, she never knew how good the simple act of coming home could be.

The buzzing above her stops.

As she looks up at it, the bulb lets out a couple of clicks followed by a drawn out fizzle before it flickers out, for what she assumes to be, the last time. A sharp pop and flash of blue confirms that thought not even a breath later, leaving her bathed in darkness. Her chest heaves with a bone deep sigh as she presses her forehead to the cool metal of the door, keys still held awkwardly between her body and it.

“Well,” she mumbles, “I guess that counts for something,” her shoulders drop as she finally twists the key and makes her way into her apartment, the light would be a problem for Future Rumi.

Serves her right for thinking she would ever be someone that deserved to catch a break.

Even years later, the universe saw to it that she was thoroughly reminded and punished for her every mistake. Every action has consequences and every consequence had been earned. It all always came back to her in the end anyways, didn’t it? Her mom, Celine’s old house, her relationship with M-

The details never mattered, it was always her fault.

~

She hadn’t realized how good it would feel to swap her uniform out for her pajamas, but as she traced along them, it was undeniable how much better the cartoon trains and teddy bears spotting her pants made her feel.

It doesn’t take her long to get situated and comfortable after she changes, curled up on her slightly scratched up couch and wrapped in the blanket Celine had hand woven for her as a ‘moving-out-but-not-away’ gift, with everything else she could possibly need tonight within arms reach from her.

She was finally ready for couch time.

She reaches for the carton of rocky road ice cream on the coffee table in front of her with one hand, the other working on queuing Frozen, the first of many on the list for her comfort-movie marathon. She leans back into the blanket and presses play. As the beginning credits roll across the bottom of the screen she lets her body finally relax. She takes a deep breath and when she lets it out, its like she’d been holding it since she woke up that morning.

She closes her eyes and lets her resolve crack for just a moment, lets thoughts of a deep and rich voice lilt through her head, flashes of pink dye on their fingers, in the sink, the floor, then all the softball games with her number on Rumi’s cheeks, of blood rushing to both of their cheeks when Mir-

She stops herself, hating the way a muscle in her thigh jumps then, how both her heart and breath stutter in her chest at just the thought of her name. She inhales slow and deep, fingers tightening around the ice cream in her hands. She lets the cold bite into her fingers and ground her.

She takes in a ragged breath, gets it under control, holds it while she packs all those feelings and memories back into their assigned boxes. And when she breathes out? She’s ready to let the anniversary of losing Mira roll off of her shoulders.
It couldn’t hurt her anymore this year, that was her only rule.

She tried not the think about the way it’d be broken before noon tomorrow, just like it was every year before. No, the day had just now officially ended for her. That meant it was a new dawn with endless potential and she was going to have a good night to spite the universe for once, she could do this.

She pops the lid off of her ice cream and goes for a big scoop, it had been more than long enough for it to thaw out so that her spoon sunk into it easily.
The moment the spoon touches her lips, her phone buzz on the coffee table in front of her.

She pauses, considers looking at it for a brief moment, but decides quickly that it’s too late and she really doesn’t feel like talking to anyone right now so she’ll deal with who ever it is in the morning. Besides, it was probably just Jinu offering another lame apology about making her cover his double on today(yesterday) of all days.

She rolls her eyes at the thought then shifts her focus back to trying to eat her ice cream and watch her movie in peace.
She doesn’t even get the chance to enjoy the first bite before it’s buzzing again.

And again.

Her brows furrow as she sets her ice cream back down, maybe a bit harder that strictly necessary, and reaches for the remote to pause Frozen and reaches for her phone, letting out a huff, who is texting her at almost three in the morning-
The name glaring up at her from the top of her notifications, much like the person it belonged to often had, knocks the wind from her lungs. It’s been years since she’s seen it there, its’s been years since they’ve seen each other, since she-

No.

That doesn’t matter now.

What matters now is that Mira is not only suddenly texting her out of nowhere, for the first time in four years(and a few hours), at two thirty-seven in the morning, but she’s also very obviously drunk out of her mind- letting typos slip by that she’d never allow otherwise.

But what matters most, is the three words that catch her eye in the middle of one of the now many messages stacking at the top of her notifications. They steal the breath from her lungs, making her curl in on herself, her stomach dropping and heart shattering all in one fell swoop when she reads them-

“im gertinh marries”

Chapter Text

Lately, Mira has been doing this thing.

At first it hadn’t been all that noticeable, but then Zoey couldn't help but keep noticing it.

There didn’t seem to be anything specific that Zoey could pinpoint as a cause or reason for it, but it seemed to always started the same way. Mira would go still suddenly, or sometimes Zoey would look over and she would already be frozen in place, staring down at the phone in her hands.

But the more Zoey watched, the less Mira’s eyes seemed to actually be focused on the screen’s content, the furrow in her brows a telltale sign that her overthinker girlfriend was more than likely stuck in her own head.

Zoey had tried a few times to get an idea of what she was looking at her phone, the color scheme seemed to always be the same one—that’s her first real bullet point on the board, that its the same app every time—but she could never make out what it was before Mira would be clicking the screen off and slipping her phone back into a pocket with a huff.

It doesn’t seem too pressing though, once it’s back in the pocket Mira is back to her usual self again.

So Zoey doesn’t say anything.

She doesn’t say anything to her when she finds her like that the first handful of times actually, still assuming that maybe since it was a few and far between kind of thing really, so it’s not like it’s something that sticks out in the forefront of her mind or has multiple entries across several notebooks written about it at this point.

It isn’t and she hasn’t.

Besides, they had a lot going on at the moment, there was already so much she had to juggle in her mind at the moment. It was almost easy to chalk it up as just that and call it a day.
They did have a wedding to plan after all.

~

Zoey has to finally call attention to it one day not long after noticing the pattern, unable to stop herself in the moment when long wanted answers had seemed so close. She doesn’t know what she was expecting from Mira, bringing up something she was pretty obviously avoiding talking about wasn’t really the greatest idea she’s ever had.

They’d just gotten home after another meeting with their wedding planner—Yujin, an absolute angel during every step of the process who they would be utterly lost without—and they had planned to spend the rest of the evening enjoying some well earned couch time.

So Zoey launches herself onto their couch the moment Mira gets the door open.

“Oh yeah,” she close her eyes and wiggles until she’s snuggly pressed into the pillows, a satisfied groan slipping out when something in her back pops at the motion, “that’s the stuff.”

She can hear Mira’s chuckle somewhere above her before she feels the soft press of kiss to the top her head.

“You wanna get a movie ready and I’ll take care of the snacks?” Mira asks, voice soft like sunlight on her skin in the early morning and her fingers threaded in Zoey’s hair, scratching just enough to make her brain feel fuzzy.

It feels so good she almost forgets to respond.

“Mmhm, as long as you don’t forget the-”

“I won’t forget your precious moon pies,” Mira huffs and she can practically hear the fond eyeroll she knows followed it, “it was one time and you haven’t let it go, even after I brought you extra when you so kindly reminded me.”

She’d asked Mira when she had started hating her and if this was her way of calling off the wedding when she saw the snack tray barren of any of the chocolatey marshmallow goodness that was her favorite snack. Mira had been very confused and concerned, eyebrows dipping low and shoulders rising. When Zoey specifically pointed out her transgression, she had turned and literally ran back to the pantry as fast as her legs would allow, grabbing more of them than necessary to make up for the mistake.

“Sometimes I think you like them more than me,” a kiss to her forehead, before grumbling under her breath, “pretty sure you’re only marrying me ‘cause you couldn’t marry them.”

Zoey opens her eyes then, finally looking up at Mira standing behind the couch. Despite the playful indignation that had been in her voice only seconds ago, she’s looking down at Zoey in that warm and adoring way that no one else ever had.
Like Zoey was made of gold, like she was priceless, like she mattered.

It still takes her breath away, even in the silly moments between them like this.

“Wait,” Zoey calls out when Mira turns and steps away, her head falling over the backrest to keep her in view, “aren’t you forgetting something, dear fiancé?”

Mira raises a brow and Zoey grins at her, eyes crinkling at the corners as she lifts a hand to tap her lips, “Kiss.”

Mira lets out an exaggerated huff and makes a show of rolling her eyes but the smile on her face is dopey and in love. She steps back towards the couch and leans down, her hands coming up to cup Zoey’s cheeks as she gives her a sweet, but slightly awkward upside down kiss.

“Heh, Spidey-kiss,” Zoey’s voice is dreamy, cheeks a bit pinker than they had been and eyes sparkling, “nice.”

Mira just laughs and pats her cheeks before turning and finally making her way to the kitchen.

It doesn’t take Zoey long to land on something. They had been working their way through a list of recommendations from Mystery and Abby and she just picks the next thing in line and gets comfortable again.

With her side of the deal done, all that was left was waiting for snacks and the love of her life. Since the sounds from the kitchen had recently gone quiet, she assumed Mira would be making her way to the couch any second.

But then five minutes turns to ten and Mira is still silent in the kitchen.

“Mir, you okay in there?”

Silence.

There’s a pit forming in her stomach as she stands, anxiety beginning to crawl under her skin like the erratic march of ants. She makes her way through the dining room they never use, trailing her fingertips along the cool wood of their table as she passes it, tries to let it ground her as she turns the corner into the kitchen.

That’s when she sees her, standing frozen in front of the tray loaded with their favorite snacks on the counter, her back is facing Zoey but she can tell Mira is looking down at her phone.

Zoey couldn’t see it this time but she still knew the exact face Mira would be making right about now, she always made the same face when she drifted too far into her own head—that had been her second bullet on the board, added when she had first started noticing it about a week ago—it was remarkably close to the one she made that time she ate that month old kimchi they had forgotten in the back of their fridge.

“Mir?”

She jumps, her phone launches from her hands and the way she can’t seem to catch it but is instead does a honestly really impressive job of hot potato-ing it back and forth between her hands to keep it from hitting the floor is almost funny enough to make her forget the pit still sitting low in her stomach.

Well, it does until Mira finally brings both hands together to sandwich it between them, taking a few rushed breaths before turning to face Zoey. Her eyes are almost comically wide while she clutches her phone to her chest that’s still heaving from the juggling of her phone.

“Uh hey, Zo,” her voice is rougher than it should be and it cracks around the nickname, she clears her throat before trying again, “I’m sorry Zo, I got distracted.”

Before Zoey can even say anything, Mira’s slipping her phone away and leaning back against the counter, in what she realizes could probably be considered an attempt at nonchalance.
“What’s been going on with you, Mira?”

Zoey hates the way her voice sounds, like she’s pleading for something but doesn’t even know what for, and the Mira’s eyes drop to the floor the moment the question falls from her lips.

Her tone is steadier than before, almost clipped in a way when she finally responds, “It’s nothing,” Zoey can’t help the way her shoulders drop when she sees muscle in Mira’s jaw flex and she doubles down, “it doesn’t matter.”

She grabs the snack tray from the counter and walks past Zoey.

Mira just heads straight for the couch without another word, effectively dropping the conversation entirely without a care if Zoey maybe wanted to say anything else on the matter. She had, for the record by the way, wanted to at least point out that it was obvious it wasn’t nothing.

Zoey wasn’t stupid.

She tried not to let it hurt her feelings anymore than it already had as she stands there, instead turns her focus trying to collect her thoughts and feelings as best as she could. Or at least just enough so that she could go sit next to Mira and stare at the TV and act like everything was fine.

No big deal, this was light work for her, really.

She tries not to let her mind drift to how Mira had done the same not even a handful of minutes ago, how easily she saw through it and knew Mira would be able to do the same to her. But that was the thing with being really known by someone, really seen by them, wasn’t it?

That you couldn’t really hide big feelings from them anymore, they know you too well, and them knowing that you were trying to do that just jumbles everything up even worse.
It’s a real lose-lose situation for all involved(them).

Zoey thoughts drift to her mom. She had always told her when she was growing up that talking out all of the things that jumbled her brain or had scrambled her feelings was important. Well, that it would always be more than worth it, not only that but that if she was brave and did it, that it was a guaranteed way to feel better about whatever it was eating at her. Even if it takes a bit of extra waiting sometimes.
So, maybe Mira just needed some more time, too?

She tries not to let the hope from the thought get to high and tells herself she only has three more deep breaths worth of time to lock it in before she should probably join Mira again.
Her first two breaths are a little shakier than she expects, but by her third inhale she’s slow and steady with it. She holds it until the it just starts to make her lungs burn and then for a second longer to show her body she’s the one in control now. She lets the breath out and turns on her heel in the same moment, telling herself she’s ready when she knows she isn’t and starts making her way back the living room.

Zoey spends each step closer trying to school her features into something that could pass as normal, she knew that was hoping for a lot right now though. She settled for shooting for something closer to neutral, that was probably doable.
She’s standing behind the couch like Mira had been when she kissed her earlier, can’t stop herself from reaching a hand out to trail alongside the top of it, the muscle memory pulling it before she can think. Her heart aches at the way the unexpected pressure makes Mira flinch on the other side of it so she pulls her hand back.

It’s too late to go back now and she’s still not ready to look at Mira so, she just, doesn’t.

Zoey keeps her eyes everywhere that isn’t Mira’s face as she rounds the couch, she knows she’s moving slower than normal and that it’s too obvious the way she sits close to, but specifically not touching, Mira. A far too stiff Mira who has a white-knuckle grip on the blanket in her lap and her own eyes downcast now. Zoey’s stomach twists when the muscle running along Mira’s jaw twitches and she just reaches over for the remote and hits play without even a glance her way.
Her mind drifts back to what her mom told her again and she wonders, not for the first time, if maybe that lesson was just another time she was trying to make her feel better.

They both sit there in silence as the movie or show, she can’t remember and really can’t bring herself to care about it all the much right now, plays on despite them. She knows she's looking at the screen without actually watching it, assumes that Mira is probably in the same boat as her judging by the way neither of them have moved since the remote was put back down, not a word spoke since the kitchen.

Before she can stop it, the thought that she should have just kept her mouth shut this time and left it entirely alone until Mira brought it up herself catapults it’s way to front of her mind.
But then as if sensing the impending spiral that would have come from that thought, Mira is pushing an opened moon pie into one of her hands, fingertips ghost over her skin before she’s pulling away again.
Zoey blinks a few times and looks down at it, she hadn’t noticed Mira moving to grab it or even heard the crinkling of the wrapper being torn open.

Before she can question it further, Mira is scooting closer to her and the words start to just tumble out, “I’m sorry I snapped at you,” it’s one quick and quiet breath and then suddenly it’s like a dam is broken, “and I’m sorry that I lied, you were right, something is bothering me but I,” her voice cracks for the second time that night and breaks Zoey’s heart all over again.

So with her non-moon pie holding hand, she reaches for one of Mira’s. She immediately threads their fingers together and squeezes Zoey’s hand like her life depended on it, a watery not-quite-smile spreading on her lips, a silent thank you.
“I forgive you, Mir,” the words feel like they take the weight from her own shoulders as much as they do Mira’s, “take a breath, we’re okay,” as if to reenforce her point, she lifts their joined hands to her mouth and presses a gentle kiss to each of Mira’s knuckles, “I probably could have phrased it better.”

Mira shakes her head and pulls Zoey closer into her chest, wrapping her other arm around her shoulders, “No it wasn’t fair of me to snap and to run like that, no matter what,” she rests her cheek against the top of Zoey’s head, her words muffled slightly from the angle, “I’m still working it out for myself, but I promise when I know, you’ll know, Zo.”

“You pinky promise,” she’s surprised by the warble in her own voice, thick with emotions she thought she was doing a good job keeping under control, “no bad secrets ever, right?”
She can feel Mira’s nod more than see it, she untangles their fingers in order to loop her pinky with Zoey’s and squeezes three times.
“No bad secrets ever.”

~

But even after that talk, it was radio silence on the subject moving forward.

Then to top it all off, as if Zoey couldn’t already get it off of her mind, the time between moments where she catches Mira in that position starts to shorten.

Back at the start, when she first started noticing it was a pattern, it would only happen once a week or so. It’s what made it hard to catch at first. But now, with no warning—unless you want to count their conversation as a catalyst, that is—it’s become an almost every couple of days kind of thing.

An almost every couple of day kind of thing that she really was trying her best to leave alone, she really wanted to show Mira that she trusted her to come to her with it when she was ready to.
But she couldn’t lie to herself anymore, this was more than just interest in knowing what war was being waged in her fiancés mind at this point. She was kind of embarrassed to admit that it still had her kind of worried that Mira hadn't brought it up to her yet. Even after their talk, the fact that whatever it was seemed to be more on Mira’s own mind as well had began to put her on edge.

The way Mira seemed to get more frustrated over it really wasn’t doing Zoey’s anxieties any favors either, along with a more aggressive shoving of phone into her pocket or the newly added bullet point of throwing her phone at the couch or bed(depending on location—except for that one time that Zoey is pretty sure was an accident when it flew backwards into the wall and scared Mira so much she had jumped) there was also the new accompanying growl that came with it.
Which okay, sure it was nice to hear, but there were still bullet points to add and dots to connect.

~

As their wedding day starts to get closer and all the fun festivities that lead up to the day of begin, there’s a worrisome development that starts to make all the dots she was begging for start to finally appear on the board.

It becomes a daily thing for Mira.

But no it couldn’t just be that, it’s a multiple times per day thing now. She realizes then it had never happened until after their first meeting with Yujin, which didn’t happen until after Mira proposed, which meant it started then. The cause must have had something to do with their wedding.

From that thought to the next, she does admit she may have spiraled.

But only slightly.

Instead of letting the spiral take her deeper, she wrangled herself in and she decides to do what she does best—get to planning.

This starts with Zoey trying to gently bring it up after the growling, just casually asking her if she’s ready to talk about what has had her so preoccupied and distraught during what should be some of their happiest moments. She obviously keeps the last bit to herself, not wanting another weird not fight like last time.

But Mira’s notorious obstinance when it comes to talking about feelings clashing with her obliviousness when it comes to Zoey’s subtle hints of offerings to listen and help her if she would only ask means it doesn’t go anywhere besides more tired sighs of, “I’m working on it, sorry Zo.”

~

It’s a little over a month before their wedding when Zoey decides to finally sit her down and make her talk about it, deciding that letting her have space and giving her the chance to come to her with this clearly isn't the move in this case. Weird fights be damned, they weren’t going to do this dance all the way to the aisle.

But she doesn’t get a huff or an eyeroll, instead Mira looks at her like she’s been physically wounded before she just slides her phone across the coffee table to Zoey.
Just like that.

Zoey just sits there frozen for a moment because she really didn’t expect to get this far especially not so quickly. But Mira’s expression twists further with every second she doesn’t, so she reaches for Mira’s phone. She can’t help the way her shoulders drop when she sees it, the screen was pulled up to a contact page.

Rumi.

The first person Mira ever called a friend.

There’s a purple heart after her name. It makes her think about the blue one she knows is next to her own name, and the string of pink ones next to Mira's in her phone.

It also sends a spark of something through her chest that she can’t really describe. It’s not hurt or jealousy—no, they were too solid for something like that, they were literally getting married in a month—but it was like she had already knew it would be about her somehow.

It always came back to Rumi with Mira.

She tries to logic it away, that the name is a familiar one after all and it could be worse. Zoey's heard it sprinkled in some of the stories Mira’s shared with her from her less than stellar childhood. Rumi was the first person Mira had ever considered a friend, and despite how poorly their falling out had been on her side of it, it helped Mira figure out things and get away from her parents.

A win, in the grand scheme of life, that she had to be thankful to Rumi for.

Well, that and for the simple fact that from what she can remember of the stories, she was always a part of the good memories from back then. Come to think of it, she was the only constant in any of the happy stories Mira had ever told her about her past.
“She, or, well, I,” Mira huffs it out in a rush, eyes leaving Zoey's to drop to the floor instead as the words seem to get stuck on each other, “you remember my best friend growing up, right?” Mira's voice is thick with emotion, rough around the edges like the words physically hurt her as they’re coming out.

Zoey’s voice is soft when she responds, measured and slow like she’s trying not to spook a feral cat that’s backed itself into a corner.

“Yeah, of course, she was there for you when your parents-” Zoey catches herself when Mira's knuckles turn white from where she’s gripping the couch cushions at the mention of her parents, fingernails biting into it hard enough Zoey is sure there will be indents left after.

“She was there when you needed someone,” she amends, her hand reaching out slowly until its next to Mira's, palm up and patient, giving her the choice to reach for comfort if she needs it, if she’s ready for it.
She knows Mira hates the way it feels like she always needs it, like she’s the one that is always reaching for Zoey, that she can never work things out for herself without a helping hand.
When Mira’s eyes land on her hand she can see the ‘pause of burden’ as they coined it, cross her face.

It got it’s name back when Mira had finally told her why it was so hard for her to come to Zoey for help with anything, why it looked like it always hurt her more than helped her when she would finally break and take Zoey’s hands or fall into her for comfort she had been desperate for.

Maybe saying she told her was a bit of an overstatement, Zoey had asked about it, just like she always did, pushed a bit too hard until Mira just shut herself down.

It had been hours later into the night, when the kind of quiet where it felt like they were the only two left awake in the world had settled over them, when Mira finally answered. She told Zoey is broken whispers and choked back sobs about how most times she had to lie to herself in order to be able to accept the hand offered to her.

Mira would tell herself that it’s helping Zoey more by allowing her to be there, to help. It was never for Mira, it was just for Zoey’s sake, that it had to be or else she couldn’t do it—like the mere fact that she wanted to reach was enough to no longer be deserving of it. So she had to convince herself she didn't want it, didn't need it first, then that it was all for Zoey, then and only then after the burden of want was swapped over, could she reach for Zoey.
Just a ‘’little trick’’ she has to play on herself to take help when it’s offered without letting it make her feel weak, she had said.

So she lets Mira have her moment of magic, watches instead the way the emotions flicker across her face as she waits, can almost see the gears turning as her clenched fists relax just enough. When she slides her hand into Zoey's, the slick sweat she feels against her palm isn’t her own and it they both know she isn't convincing either of them with the ‘‘reassuring’’ squeeze she attempts to give Zoey right after.

“I told you about how we,” Mira's voice cracks, sharp like shards of glass, and Zoey can see the frustration building in the clench of her jaw, knows how much Mira hates it when she can’t hold herself together enough to just spit things out sometimes, “about how we-” Mira's eyes shut, a shaky breath falling from her lips before she continues, “how we stopped talking?”

Zoey knows that isn't what she was going to say, knows that “stopped talking” isn't really the best choice of words to say what happened between them, or it at least wasn't the most accurate description of the event.
But she doesn't bring that up, Mira was very obviously already fragile enough as it was, why add to that when the whole point of this was to help her feel better?

Instead she just hums softly in assent, loosely threading their fingers together and scooting closer on the couch until their shoulders were pressed together. Her chest warms when Mira immediately folds against her, head dropping to lean against the top of Zoey's as she pulls their joined hands into her lap, Mira’s fingertips on the other hand tracing along her knuckles so lightly she almost doesn’t feel the shake in them.

“With everything going on with the wedding, I started thinking about her, how she was my—we were,” Mira starts, voice low and so close that Zoey can practically feel each word puffing out against her ear as she speaks, a pause after as she considers her next words.

“When we were younger we always talked and joked about being each others ‘best maids’ or ‘woman of honor’ or whatever as a joke, y’know? We said we would be the ones planning all the stuff for each other, since the only person to love us close enough to whoever we were marrying was the other and, and I,” she’s begun to take a page from Zoey’s book, devolving into rushed rambling and spirals before stopping herself, squeezing Zoey’s hand almost hard enough to hurt and taking in a truly impressive deep breath.

Zoey doesn’t say anything, opting to squeeze her hand back as tight as she can instead and allow Mira the time to collect her thoughts, leans closer so she can wrap her other arm around her shoulders and pull her in closer. When Mira’s hand relaxes around hers, she turns her head to press a gentle kiss to the corner of her mouth.

“You’re okay,” she murmurs against Mira’s skin, soft and quiet, “take your time, there’s no rush here.”

They sit in comfortable silence for a few beats before Mira finally speaks again.

“I keep thinking that maybe we could try to talk it out and fix it—but I just,” she falls further into Zoey, an almost pitiful groan slipping out, “I cant make myself just send a stupid text.”

Zoey traces shapes along Mira's back, thoughts swirling through her mind at that new information about Rumi and hers relationship. She knew they had been really close, Mira had said that before Zoey showed up she had been the only person she ever let get close to her. The boys had gotten closer to her over the years sure, but even now their relationship was nowhere near to how close she was to Rumi then.

She can feel the clench of Mira’s jaw under her lips and presses kisses against it, her heart panging at Mira's palpable frustration and disappointment in herself—but that other feeling, the one she doesn't have a name for, is back in full force too.
Before she can stop herself, the question is out.

“You want to invite her to our wedding?”

It made sense really, logically, sure they had their mutual friends—the ones Zoey brought into their relationship—and Zoey's parents would be there for them too, despite the divorce, but Mira didn’t really have anyone there that was just hers, not counting herself of course.

But the way she asks it must be a bit more blunt than she thought because Mira nearly flinches away from her, hand stilling against Zoey's knuckles as what feels like every muscle in her body tenses at once.

“I'm sorry I know I should have asked first and it wasn't considerate not to bring it up before now that it’s so close and-”

“I think it'd be a good idea.”

“-what?”

Mira is still frozen, has leaned far away just enough to be able to look at Zoey, her brows are furrowed deep and eyes searching Zoey's face for something.

“What did you say?” she asks again quietly, like she couldn’t have heard her right.

“I said,” Zoey starts, leaning forward enough to press her forehead to Mira's, “I think it'd be a good idea for you to invite her, she very obviously meant a lot to you and she took care of you when I wasn't able to yet,” she continues on, her hand squeezing Mira’s once more, “I’d love to finally get to meet her.”

“I love you,” Mira's voice is thick, the laugh that follows is watery and self deprecating, “I'm sorry I've been kinda pathetic about this.”

Zoey just hums and leans up to press a chaste kiss to Mira’s lips, ignoring the salty taste of tears on them, “You know I love it when you're pathetic,” Mira cant hold back the sharp laugh that pulls from her and her shoulders finally begin to relax after and Zoey is prouder than she should be of herself for lightening the mood around them.

Her heart feels even lighter when Mira rolls her eyes despite the tears still sitting stubbornly on her waterline.

“You better.”

~

It doesn't come up again for a few days.

Zoey is convinced that it’s because after her amazing pep talk with Mira, that she definitely sent the text and was either still waiting for a response or a good time to bring it up, like at the next meeting with Yujin maybe.

But when another couple of days passes, she starts to consider a secret third option that maybe Rumi's number had changed during their years apart and they'd need to reach out on some other social media to be able to actually invite her.

She just didn't know how to bring that up to Mira without sounding like she had been thinking nonstop about Rumi since their talk.

She definitely hadn't been.

But Mira didn't bring it up. She wasn't getting lost in thought and staring at her phone anymore, either though, so maybe that was a good thing?

Once again, Zoey was confused on what was going on and what the path forward should be.

So she decides to just bring it up super casually after dinner on the fifth night post talk (she wasn't counting, shut up), they're curled up on their couch with one of those how-its-made style shows that Mira secretly loves plays on the tv.

“So have you gotten a response from Rumi about coming to the wedding yet?”

She purposefully keeps her eyes trained on the machine pressing metal into a mold on the screen, hoping it gave her an air of nonchalance that covers the way her voice is just a tad higher than normal. But she cant help but look at Mira from the corner of her eye, when her sharp intake of breath breaks her resolve to stay aloof and casual.

Mira is side eying her, mouth frozen halfway open, popcorn still in hand and hovering just in front of her. She catches Zoey’s eyes and they immediately dart back back to the tv screen, her cheeks turning a shade lighter than her hair a second later.

“I haven't, exactly, sent the text yet?” Mira says, words choppy and choked as she pretends to focus on the show in front of them.

“I'm still working out what I want to say, y’know,” she tosses the popcorn in her mouth a poor attempt at brushing it off as she takes far too long to chew the singular puff before speaking again, “its been awhile and maybe she's too busy anyways.”

“Oh no no no,” Zoey starts, shifting so she can face Mira on the couch, “you aren't backing down after we had an emotional heart to heart moment about why it would be good for you to reach out to her.”

Her voice is stern, for her at least, and the look Mira is giving with her is a cross between a pleading puppy and a sopping wet cat so she thinks her point has been made.

“Okay fine,” Mira huffs, rolling her eyes, “I’ll do it soon.”

“Good,” Zoey drops back into her spot among the blankets, then bolts up immediately after, “wait you did remember to invite the boys to the party next week right?”

“Uhh, yeah,” Mira pulls her phone out of her pocket and starts furiously tapping at the screen, eyes comically wide voice tight, “of course I did that when you asked me to.”

“Miiiiiiiiiiir,” Zoey throws her head back, hanging it over the side of the couch as she whines, “it was your task on the list, they're your college friends.”

“Hey, if anything they're your friends,” Mira shoots back, “you were going to their parties long before I showed up.”

Zoey lifts her head and narrows her eyes at Mira, “going to their parties to be their DJ and going as their friend first is sooo different,” she jabs a finger in Mira's direction along with her words, “and you know it. You just don't want to admit the first friend you made as an adult was Abb-”

She doesn't get to finish the sentence, a pillow to the face swiftly ending it for her.

~

It’s a week later when Zoey thinks Mira is finally going to send the message.

They had been getting ready to go out with friends for a pseudo-joint-bachelorette party thing for both of them since they weren’t really wanting to go the traditional route. Mira had finished up the final touches to her make up as Zoey finally locked in her outfit for the night, tossing the rejects from the bed into a pile in front of her closet that she could deal with later.

When she turned back around she could see Mira looking pensively at her phone, thumbs slowly tapping the lower half of the screen—a telltale sign she was typing.

Zoey can’t help the quick rush of excitement that pricks along her skin when she steps closer and can make out Rumi's name and the purple of the heart at the top of the screen. But then Mira makes this sounds that reminds Zoey of the rampaging boar from the nature documentary they watched the other night.

“You should probably focus on getting dressed if you don't want to be late,” she snips when she catches Zoey's eyes on her in the mirror, it isn't harsh but Zoey can see there is some real bite in them so she defuses the seriousness of it.

She rolls her eyes, a playful smile on her lips as she looks away from Mira, knowing how she hates being perceived when she’s getting overwhelmed, and does actually start focusing on getting dressed.

She does wish she could have seen the look on Mira's face when she threw back, “Maybe you should focus on what you’re going to say to Rumi, hm?”

There's a scandalized scoff from behind her, followed by Mira’s quiet grumbles under her breath about how “stupid texting is,” as she presumably locks her phone and tosses it onto their bed next to Zoey's picked out clothes.

Zoey knew most of this was misplaced frustration with herself for what she felt like was her letting Rumi take up too much of her thoughts again—especially as they're literally getting ready to celebrate their own relationship with all of their friends.

This is supposed to be about her and Zoey, not Rumi.

~

The music is loud and she swears the bass is a tangible wave that moves through her body with every beat of her heart.

Mira can’t remember the last time she's drank this much, maybe back in her college days when she felt like she had a chip on her shoulder and something to prove. This time she didn't have anything to prove, but she was here to celebrate finding the love of her life and being able to call her her wife in a month—so she deserved to properly celebrate and enjoy all the offered drinks—this was the greatest she’d felt in a long time.

It was like this was an entirely different and new experience, she feels like electricity is buzzing under her veins and her body is floaty and heavy in weird and conflicting but oh so fuzzy kind of ways.

As if it couldn’t get any better, Zoey's hands sliding along the back of her waist a moment later as she sidles up to her feels like a flame licking across her skin. A new drink is in her other hand, a sparkling blue liquid with gummy sharks and turtles floating along the top.

“Can you believe Abby had them prepare a personalized menu for us?” Zoey shouts up at her over the music, voice laced with sugar and spirits alike, “those boys can be sooooo sweet when they really try, and they came all the way up here, on such short notice, too!”

It takes Mira a little longer to really process what Zoey says, she wants to say something snarky about them, especially Jinu who apparently forgot to tell his job that he needed time off and wasn't sure he’d still have a job when he got home. When they had yelled at him about it he just rolled his eyes and shrugged.

He told them “I could get a job at literally any other bar, have you seen this face? The ladies love me.”

Leave it it to him to make a point to let them know he wouldn't miss it for the world, but also that he was still insufferable in the same breath.

“They are,” she agrees at first, almost letting Zoey’s comment about her forgetting to tell them when she was supposed to, but then she has a thought.

Her lips quirk up as she leans in close enough that they brush Zoey's ear and slips the drink from her hand, “and I'm sure this is too, but nothing is as sweet as you,” she leans back then, taking a generous sip of the almost sickeningly sweet sea themed concoction.

Zoey chest stutters with an inaudible gasp when the words hit her.

Mira watches in real time as her eyes darken, blood rushing to her cheeks and making her freckles show all the more. Mira loved making a mess of her, of watching her resolve crumble—she briefly wonders how long it would take to convince Zoey to go home so she could get a taste of her.

But then she sees Jinu's stupid face in the crowd.

He's looking for something or someone in the crowd, eyes squinted in focus he scans. Then they make eye contact and he gets that big goofy grin that he can’t even blame on alcohol and is waving excitedly at her. She cant help the low groan it drags out of her at the incoming interruption but a look at Zoey tells her they're on the same page about it at least.

It takes him an almost embarrassingly long time to make it to them, bumping into multiple people before finally closing the distance, it at least gives ample time for Zoey to shift so she standing behind Mira, trying to discreetly fan herself and regain some composure.

The song begins to fade into something not quite as bass heavy and eardrum rattling, a bit slower in comparison to most of the night thus far. Mira was glad it meant she didnt have to strain to hear him.

“Hiiiiiii,” he still a bit louder than necessary and he drags it out longer than he should before his goofy grin shifts more into grimace territory, “hate to be the bearer of bad news, but it’s getting late and since we have a long drive, me and the boys are gonna be heading out soon.”
He shifts to the side then and slides his hands into his front pockets, thumbs tapping against his belt loops leisurely as he tilts his head in the direction of their reserved section, “I was sent to get you guys to come back to the tables for a round of goodbyes and all that good stuff.”

Mira rolls her eyes at him, but the smile on her face softens it enough, “Ugh fine, lead the way loserboy.”

He mimes being shot as the music picks up again, face contorting into an exaggerated pained expression before quickly dropping, “Shut up, lovergirl.”

After he spins on his heel and starts heading back to their table upstairs, she finally turns back to Zoey, her smile becoming apologetic for the moment lost between them. But Zoey just shrugs before downing the rest of her drink, gummies poking out between her teeth when she offers Mira a beaming smile in return.

And like always, her hand was extended between them, just waiting for Mira to take.

~

Somehow a round of “goodbyes and stuff” turns into at least two more rounds of shots for everyone involved in the celebration—except Jinu who had been the designated driver among the boys.

As the alcohol burned its way down Mira’s throat she became all to aware of the fact her limit was rapidly approaching. So when Abby goes to hand her a fourth shot, ‘’for the road,’’ he slurs and she shakes her head.

She regrets it immediately, the way it makes the world around her spin is almost enough to make her sick.

“’m good, but you can’t anymore,” she can hear the jumbled way the words fall from her mouth, brow furrowing as she tries to get her point across.

“Not gonna carry you this time if you cant walk to Jinu’s car,” as if to prove her point to the both of them, the room spins without her permission again and her body sways with it into the table between them, “cant b’lieve let you talk me into three already,” she groans, “and that was after the champagne.”

She leans against the table and pinches the bridge of her nose, “Why is it always you, Abby?”

Before he can respond, Zoey has launched herself like a missile into Mira's side, pinning her to the table hard enough to knock the wind out of her. Abby uses this as an opportunity to make another trip to the bar while she's still sputtering and struggling to get air back into her lungs. It takes a moment and Zoey’s help to steady her.

The moment it’s clear she’s stable and caught her breath, Zoey bursts into laughter.

“Oops, sorry about that, Mir,” her cheeks are flushed, eyes shining in the low lights as she looks up at Mira, “you just looked soooooo squishable I couldn't help myself,” as if to prove her point, she reaches up to squish Mira's cheeks between her fingers, accompanied with what Mira is assuming are supposed to be ‘squish’ sound effects that sound more like Zoey is trying to beat box with a mouth full of water again.

For a moment Mira’s heart stutters in her chest and she knows there's a dopey look on her face based on the laugh that cuts off the sound effects coming from Zoey—by the crinkle in the corner of her eyes as she tilts her head and looks up at Mira with a dopey look of her own.

It feels like they're alone, pressed so close that Mira swears she can feel Zoey's heartbeat in her own chest. It felt like knowing that in this moment they were both thinking the same thing about one another—you're my person.

Zoey's eyes flutter shut when Mira dips her head then, kissing her soundly, hands slipping from her cheeks to thread into her hair. Mira tries to pour every emotion she’s never had a word for into it, wants to make sure that Zoey can feel what she really means to her, hopes she understands how lucky she feels to be the person that Zoey is choosing to spend the rest of her life with.

She pretty sure she’s been understood when Zoey smiles so big that Mira isn’t even sure this could still be considered a kiss anymore and mumbles a soft and sweet ‘love you, too baby’ against her lips.

~

Mira does end up needing to carry Abby to Jinu's car not much longer after that.

She tells Zoey to hang out at their table until she gets back, that it’s gotten chillier as the night settled in and she didn't want Zoey to get cold while she had to carry his ‘dense ass’. Well, that and the fact that she didn’t trust Zoey’s coordination at the moment and she may be strong but she couldn’t carry both of them at the same time.

She can feel the goofily-in-love smile that Mira loves to tease her for slipping onto her face just from that thought alone—Zoey just couldn’t help it though, anytime she thought a little too hard or long about Mira, and boom there it was all over her face.
She lets her mind drift further then, about Mira’s strong arms and how they felt whenever she’d carry Zoey up to bed when she fell asleep on the couch, opened every door for her before she could even reach, how she not just listened to what Zoey said but she always listened to learn, never to respond. Sometimes she was almost too chivalrous than she needed to be, such a gentleman she’d always tease, it never ceased to make Mira’s cheeks as match her hair.

All of it made Zoey’s heart melt, warmth flooding her body and making her feel all floaty, like she was on a big fluffy summer cloud.

She’s pulled out of her thoughts by a weird burst of rumbling—or maybe it was more of a buzzing?—coming from the ground near her feet. Zoey shifts her feet, trying to see if she could feel it again, her brows furrowing as she tries to think of what it could be. She could tell it definitely wasn't the bass of the music, that had been a steady thrum she could feel throughout her whole body.

Then it started again, it was a short burst followed by another a few seconds later, and she could only really feel it with her left foot specifically now. She looks down over the edge of the table but can't really see anything, to be fair the club was lit mainly by the laser show and a handful of blacklights to be fair.

So, Zoey writes it off as her mind playing tricks on her or maybe that third shot she ended up taking with Abby before Mira could stop them and while Jinu had been too preoccupied with trying to get the other two boys back to the table to even notice Abby slipping away to order them.

Mira had gasped when she saw them with drinks in hand, a betrayed hiss of “Zoey, no,” leaving her lips as they clink the glasses, both wasting no time while she tries to make her way to them from the bathroom—”Zoey, yes!” her and Abby cheered after slamming the shots back before she got back to their table.

But then she feels it again. And again.

She grabs the edge of the table and uses it to guide herself down into a crouch. Despite the assist from the table, her vision swims like the gummies in her drink had and she's pretty sure her stomach drops through the floor even though the rest of her stays above it. The vibrating doesn't care that she's trying to catch her breath and get the world stop spinning, the bursts persist from near her foot.

From down here though, she can see the barest sliver of light coming from the edges of a phone’s screen and oh man, somebody was going to be so upset they left their phone behind. She reaches for it, patting at the ground until her fingertips brush smooth plastic, mission success.

When she lifts it to her face and finally catches sight of the screen, it’s already stopped vibrating and she’s left staring at her own face.
Well, it’s actually her and Mira’s faces.

The lock screen staring back at her was a familiar one, a picture Jinu had been hiding in the bushes to take, it was of the moment Mira had proposed—the sun had just started to set, dipping beneath the distant skyline of Seoul behind them. They were haloed by the soft rays of the golden hour, surrounded by wildflowers of every color, in a familiar field that Mira had brought her to ‘have a picnic’ in.

It had been the same field Zoey had taken her to star gaze from years ago, their first real date.

Her reminiscing is swiftly ended by Abby's face popping up on the screen, calling what she assumes is for the second or third time now based on the vibrations. she answers it and brings it to her ear, one hand still grabbing the table above her as she's stays curled under it.

“Hiiii Abster,” she sing songs, “why are you calling Mira, she’s with you?” the question falls from her lips before she can think it through, then she hears her fiancé's laugh in response instead of the lovable jock’s she expected.

“Abby is currently passed out in the backseat of Jinu's car actually,” her words have lost the slur they had earlier, now she just sounded tired to Zoey, “had to nab his phone to call mine, didn't realize I didn't have it ‘til I went to text you that we made it safe,” Zoey's heart flutters at that, how Mira always had her in mind like that.

“Mm never gonna beat those lovergirl allegations talkin’ like that,” Zoey sing songs into the phone as she stands back up, “but thank you, baby.”

“I accepted that the moment I met you, Zo,” Mira’s voice is surprisingly soft when she says it, genuine and warm like honey, then she clears her throat as if catching herself, “give me a few to get the boys sent off and I’ll be on my way back to you, okay?”

Zoey hums and nods before remembering Mira cant see her, then is grateful for that when her cheeks burn a moment later, “yeah that sounds good to me, mir,” she pauses when the music lowers just long enough for the bartenders to make the last call, “be safe! Oh, also tell the boys to be safe for me, too! Oh, oh, and don’t pull an Odysseus on me, the bar is closing soon.”

Mira snorts at that, then clears her throat again, “We will all be safe and I will do my best to not spite or maim any gods or their children on the way there and leave you alone for twenty years.”
“Good, you better not,” she tries to make her voice sound stern but she can’t help the giggle that pushes it’s way out, “love you.”

“Love you more, dork,” there’s a beep and the call has been disconnected by Mira, when she looks at the screen again, the picture of them is left glowing up at her.
She’s alone with her thoughts and Mira’s phone.

Without thinking she’s tapping in the passcode, the numbers are a little blurry and her fingers aren’t really cooperating though, so it takes her a couple tries. But then it unlocks, opening up to whatever Mira had open last.
Her breath catches, heart stuttering a beat when Rumi is staring back at her from not her contact page this time—but from their messages. Mira had left a letter of message typed out but still unsent, just sitting there in the box. The line at the end sat there blinking at her, as if waiting.

Before she’s even realized what she’s doing, it’s done.