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The morning had long since overstayed its name, drifting lazily toward noon, but neither of them cared. Sunlight spilled through the curtains in soft golden ribbons, catching motes of dust in the air like suspended glitter. Time had gone slack. Their phones glowed faintly somewhere under the sheets, ignored in favor of the meandering rhythm of conversation, half-finished thoughts, and the comfort of skin pressed close.
Pearl lay half-propped against the headboard, tank top slipping off her shoulder, denim faded soft with wear. The cotton clung to her chest faintly in ways she pretended she didn’t notice, unguarded in a way she never would have been around anyone else. Gem, curled against her side, wore nothing but a bra and underwear under an oversized t-shirt that loosely draped over her frame. Her hair was a tangle, her face sleepy. They looked like themselves, stripped of polish, and that was what made the moment feel so precious.
Gem nuzzled closer, cheek brushing Pearl’s shoulder. Without thinking, she pressed a kiss there—quick, gentle. Then, just as impulsively, she nipped.
Pearl squeaked, jerking half an inch away, her eyes wide. For a heartbeat Gem panicked. Shit. Too much?
But then Pearl’s lips parted, slow and thoughtful. Instead of pulling away, she gave a small huff of laughter, the surprise softening into something that sounded almost like delight.
Gem blinked at her. “...You liked that,” she murmured, testing the words like they were fragile.
Pearl didn’t answer. Instead she turned, sliding her hands under the hem of Gem’s shirt to rest on her waist. The touch was light, grounding, warm.
Gem grinned, heart hammering. “You know,” she started, voice smug, “for someone who keeps teasing me about being short—”
“You are short.” Pearl’s smirk was immediate, sharp.
Gem groaned, throwing her head back. “Hey—! You can’t keep saying that like it’s my entire personality!”
Pearl only reached out, tilting her chin up with one finger, and inched closer to kiss her forehead. “No, but it’s most of it~”
Gem made a noise halfway between a groan and a laugh, pushing lightly at Pearl’s chest. “I am being bullied—”
Pearl kissed her forehead again, softer this time. The protest faltered immediately, Gem going quiet, warmth blooming where the touch lingered.
“By…” Gem muttered, giggling like an idiot, “…a tall, …beautiful lady. So I don’t mind.”
The teasing dissolved into laughter—quiet, easy, warm. It filled the space around them like sunlight, spilling slow and golden.
Gem ducked in again, pressing into the crook of Pearl’s neck, her lips scattering soft kisses along her skin. Mischief stirred in her chest; she let her teeth graze gently before pulling back just enough to cup Pearl’s cheek. Her eyes sparkled, nerves and excitement tangled together.
“Wo de zhenzu,” she whispered, the syllables tumbling out clumsy—too flat where they should have lifted, too sharp where they should have softened.
Pearl blinked, startled, and had to bite back a laugh. The words sounded absurd on Gem’s tongue, but her heart swelled at the effort.
Gem’s face burned crimson. “Wait, no—hold on—” She giggled, fumbling again. “Wǒ… de… zhēn—ugh, that sounded awful—” She buried her face in her hands for a second, then peeked back up, cheeks blazing. “Ugggh— I swear I practiced okay?”
This time Pearl’s laughter broke through, gentle and warm, easing the sharp edges of Gem’s fluster. “What are you trying to say?”
“My pearl,” Gem admitted, voice muffled as she pressed her face into Pearl’s collarbone, her voice shy but proud.
The muffled confession hit harder than the words themselves. Pearl stilled, something inside her loosening without permission. The armor she’d spent years building up subtly began to shift under the weight of that intent.
She lifted Gem’s chin with her thumb, brushing her cheek tenderly. “Here,” she murmured. “Let me show you.” She spoke slow, deliberate, guiding each syllable: “我的珍珠. Say it with me.”
Gem’s eyes shone as she echoed, stuttering but closer this time. “Wǒ de zhēnzhū.” She giggled, squeezing Pearl’s waist with both hands, then repeated it again, almost proudly: “我的珍珠.”
Pearl’s breath caught. She’s trying so hard. The tones weren’t perfect, the words still a little clumsy, but Gem’s earnestness wrapped around them like a ribbon, transforming the phrase into something fragile and precious, a gift pressed into Pearl’s hands.
For a moment, Pearl simply let herself bask in it—the joy of teaching Gem, of watching her stumble and still insist on standing tall. Pride stirred inside her, surprising in its strength. Not the sharp, biting kind she grew up with, measured by success or failure, but a softer pride.
Pearl laughed under her breath. She doesn’t even know my actual name yet. If she’s going to go this far, she might as well do it right.
But before anything left her lips, Pearl hesitated, her throat tightening. The weight of the moment pressed in, heavier than she’d expected. For most people, she kept her name a secret, a part of her past cordoned off. A boundary between what she showed the world and what she guarded deep within her heart. A piece of herself she had never thought she’d entrust so freely. To give it to Gem felt… monumental. But Gem had worked so hard for this, for them to be here right now. If anyone deserved that truth, it was her. She deserves to have this piece of her before anything else.
Maybe this could be a first step. A small truth Pearl could afford to give, before the harder truths waiting further down.
Her lips parted, voice low but steady. “You know, that’s… just the literal translation for Pearl.” She swallowed.
Gem blinked at her, then gave a sheepish grin, lifting a hand as if caught. “Yeah, I, uh… ran it through a translator.”
That pulled a faint twitch of amusement from Pearl’s lips. The effort was so Gem. Earnest but full of heart, the sort of thing she couldn’t bring herself to laugh at cruelly. And yet, beneath that flicker of warmth, her chest beat with something heavier. Gem had searched for her name, wanted to know it. She’d reached for it. And Pearl couldn’t ignore the thought, she deserves the real thing.
Her pulse quickened. She stopped herself again. Her real name wasn’t something she handed out. Not lightly, not often. It belonged to her family, her past, to years of expectation and pressure tied to it. To her, it wasn’t just a name; it was weight, identity, vulnerability. To say it aloud here would be to place it in Gem’s hands, and trusting her not to break it.
She drew a slow breath anyway. “But that’s not my real name.”
Gem tilted her head, curiosity soft. “It’s not?”
Pearl shook her head gently, then exhaled, the syllables leaving her like something long locked away. “In Chinese it’s 林明珠.”
Gem’s eyes widened, reverent as if she’d just been handed a key to something precious. “That’s your real name?”
Pearl nodded, her expression unreadable even to herself. It was a promise kept, a lock quietly undone.
Gem tried immediately, eager: “林… Lín… Pearl!”
A surprised laugh burst from Pearl’s chest, sharper than she expected. “No, no— that’s backwards.”
“Backwards?” Gem tilted her head, baffled but grinning.
“Lín is my family name,” Pearl explained, warmth softening her words. “Míngzhū is my given name.”
“Ohhh.” Gem flopped dramatically onto her back, one arm over her face. “So it’s flipped?
“Correct.” Pearl said with a smirk. “Try again.”
“I’ll get it right, hold on—” Gem declared, huffing in determination.
Pearl chuckled, leaning back on her palms. Gem tried again, “Míngzhū,” but her tones came out wrong. “No,” Pearl corrected automatically, voice just a touch sharper than she intended. “You need to lift on the second syllable. Not drag it down.”
“Lift? Like this?” Gem tried again, pitching her voice up like she was singing. “Míííngzhū?” giggling at herself.
“Too clipped,” Pearl said, frowning slightly. “Round it more.”
Gem tried a third time, eyes wide with hopeful innocence. “Better?”
Pearl bit her lip. Her answers came faster, firmer. “No, no— you keep flattening it. Listen—”
But Gem only nestled closer, still murmuring “Míngzhū, Míngzhū” like a mantra, soft and stubborn and endlessly earnest.
Pearl watched her, caught between awe and ache. It wasn’t just the sound of her name Gem was chasing—it was the meaning, the intimacy, the weight of it all. Pearl felt something tighten in her chest: a love that made the cracks in her guard feel less like weakness and more like light spilling through.
The room still glowed with the gentle warmth of late afternoon, blankets drawn around them like a cocoon. Gem leaned against Pearl’s shoulder, her voice soft but determined as she tried once again to shape the unfamiliar syllables.
“Lín… Míngzhū.”
The tones came out uneven, almost flat. She laughed at herself, shaking her head.
Pearl’s mouth twitched. Without thinking, her instinct slipped out. “No, no, damn it—you can’t just say it like that, it has to be exact.” The words were sharper than she meant, and she winced as soon as they left her lips.
Gem’s smile faltered. Her shoulders tensed under the blanket, fingers twisting into her hair. She didn’t pull away completely, but she eased just slightly back against the pillows, a subtle retreat. Shit, am I making this harder for her? Am I too eager? Am I being too much? Am I just annoying her?
Pearl felt the shift instantly—the stillness in Gem’s laughter, the way her body stiffened against hers. Panic flickered in her eyes, worried she'd just diminished Gem’s effort.
“I—I’m sorry,” Pearl stammered quickly, her voice smaller now. “I didn’t mean… that was unnecessary.” Her hand twitched where it rested on the blanket, fingers tightening as if to hold the moment still. Her eyes dropped to their laps, unable to bear the full weight of Gem’s silence. Why can’t I just let things be? Why do I always need them to be perfect?
Gem stayed quiet, lips pressing together as she picked at a loose thread in the blanket.
Pearl, desperate to patch the crease, forced a smile. Her voice softened, too careful, too quick. “You’re doing great. Really.”
Gem let out a shaky laugh, more air than sound. Some of the tension in her shoulders eased, though not completely. She leaned back into Pearl’s side again, but the playful rhythm of before didn’t return.
Pearl sat stiff beside her, hands clenched against her thighs. Guilt and panic swirled, heavy and urgent. The sound of her name, even clumsy and wrong, had filled her with an ache she hadn’t expected. Yet the moment, so intimate, had tilted just enough to remind her how fragile closeness could feel.
Gem drew a long, steady breath, then shifted just enough to lean against Pearl again. Her hand reached, light and careful, brushing along Pearl’s forearm before resting there with a soft squeeze. “Hey,” she murmured, the word quiet but certain, like a pebble dropped into still water. Her eyes lifted, warm despite the tremor hiding in her voice. “I want to learn this for you. I want to get it right—because I care. Because I love you. Okay?”
Pearl’s chest tightened, breath hitching at the gentleness pressed into every syllable. The weight she’d been carrying, taut and jagged, loosened at the edges. Her shoulders sagged against the pillows, fingers finally uncurling.
She let out a shaky breath and gave the smallest nod, afraid any bigger movement might shatter the moment. “Okay,” she whispered, softer this time.
So they tried again.
Pearl repeated the syllables slowly, consciously keeping her voice low and smooth, tempering the perfectionist sharpness that usually drove her corrections. Gem followed, her mouth shaping the tones carefully, but the rhythm still stumbled, uneven.
Pearl’s lips twitched, then parted with a laugh she hadn’t expected. It slipped out lighter than the knot in her chest, surprising both of them. Gem caught the sound and lit up, giggling as she leaned further into Pearl’s shoulder. “That was awful, wasn’t it?”
Pearl shook her head, the corners of her mouth refusing to flatten. “You’re getting better,” she murmured, the words coming softer than she expected.
The praise landed like sunlight. Gem’s laugh softened into something almost fragile, her shoulders easing fully this time. She tucked herself closer into Pearl’s side, breathing her in.
They tried again, and again. Gem tripped over the tones with clumsy persistence, leaning into Pearl as though her warmth might steady her. Every mistake turned into laughter that tumbled between them, loosening what fear had tightened.
Gem let her hand drift lazily along Pearl’s arm, fingertips tracing idle patterns. She repeated random phrases Pearl fed her, some mangled, some nearly right. Pearl found herself smiling more than frowning, her usual perfectionist edge softening under Gem’s stubborn affection.
Without thinking, she brushed a strand of hair from Gem’s face and pressed her forehead to her temple. The closeness drew another giggle from Gem, who buried her nose into Pearl’s shoulder, eyes bright with fond mischief.
“I’m grateful for how hard you’re trying,” Pearl murmured, startled by the honesty of her own voice. She tilted her head, lips brushing Gem’s temple in a fleeting kiss. “Really. It means a lot.”
Gem melted against her side, her laughter quiet now, steadier. The silence that followed carried no weight—only comfort, threaded with closeness.
She stumbled through a few more tries before sighing dramatically, flashing a grin too wide to dim. “I’ll get it eventually. You’ll see.”
They lingered in bed a little while longer before Pearl’s gaze drifted to the clock across the room, its hands making clear what her instincts already knew: they had overslept. A soft sigh slipped from her lips as she turned back to the girl lying next to her. “We should probably get up.”
Gem was sprawled across the sheets, one leg tangled hopelessly in the blanket, her cheek pressed flat against the pillow. Her hair stuck out in every direction, a wild halo of tangles, and her body had melted into a posture that radiated absolute refusal to move.
“It’s… a weekend…” Gem mumbled, her words drawn out, deliberately slow, playfully slurred by sleep. “Do we have to?”
Her eyes cracked open just long enough to flash the faintest smirk before closing again. She stretched languidly, rolling to her side, letting her arm fall in a lazy sweep until her fingers brushed against Pearl’s. The touch was accidental on purpose, an invitation disguised as drowsiness, coaxing Pearl to stay put, to surrender to the warmth of the bed.
Pearl shook her head softly but leaned closer, resting her chin against the edge of the mattress near Gem’s shoulder. Her fingers traced absent patterns along Gem’s bare arm, her touch both tender and grounding.
“We’ve slept in,” she murmured. Her voice carried that impossible blend of gentleness and quiet authority, a tone that soothed even as it commanded. “It’s already noon. Don’t you want to start the day?”
Gem answered with an exaggerated groan, stretching her limbs out in every direction like a cat, whining into the pillow. “Mmn… no not really~”
She buried her face deeper, but the act wasn’t convincing. Her toes curled against the sheets, her fingers tapped idly against the mattress, betraying the sparks of playful energy under the guise of stubbornness. Even her protests slipped into little giggles, laughter bubbling up in spite of herself.
Pearl let the resistance run its course, watching with a quiet smile. Then, with a small smirk of her own, she leaned down and slipped her arms beneath Gem. In one smooth motion she lifted her up off the bed, letting the blankets slip off of her body as if it were the most natural thing in the world.
“Hey—! Put me down!” Gem squealed, her arms wrapping around Pearl tightly. But her laughter undercut every word, spilling into the room as she wriggled uselessly against Pearl’s hold.
Pearl shifted her weight, spinning them lightly just to hear Gem’s laughter sharpen into something brighter. She held her close a moment longer, letting the intimacy linger, before setting her gently onto the floor.
Gem pouted, dragging her feet in mock protest, though her lips couldn’t stop twitching into a grin. Her eyes shone with warmth even as she whined, her body language an open contradiction — fighting to stay stubborn, but melting in the same breath.
Pearl leaned in before Gem could gather her next complaint. Her lips pressed against Gem’s in a kiss that was slow, deliberate, and quietly commanding. The suddenness silenced everything in Gem’s head as her body went still, her eyes wide for a beat before fluttering shut.
“Wha—hey—ah…” Gem’s protest melted into a soft, breathy giggle. Heat bloomed across her cheeks, her lips curling upward as she sighed into the kiss.
Pearl smiled against her mouth, breaking away only far enough to murmur with amused satisfaction, “Like a charm.”
Gem’s arms wrapped around her instinctively, holding tight as her grin softened into something sheepish. She was pink-cheeked and flustered, undone by how easily Pearl had reset her brain.
Still tucked against Pearl, she giggled, surrendering the last of her resistance. “Okay… okay…”
Pearl tilted her head toward the kitchen, her voice light but certain. “Since we’re up… how about I get started on lunch?”
Gem lit up immediately, nodding, the energy in her body transformed from reluctant to eager. “Mmh… yes please.”
She walked slowly at Pearl’s side as they left the bedroom, laughter still spilling from her lips, her earlier stubbornness forgotten.
Pearl led Gem by the hand toward the kitchen, her grip light but sure, guiding rather than pulling. Gem trailed behind with a faint, lingering smile, still a little dazed from the kiss that had stolen the air from her lungs just minutes before. She leaned lazily against Pearl’s shoulder as they walked, her laughter soft and unhurried.
“You can watch if you want,” Pearl teased, squeezing Gem’s fingers before letting go.
Gem gave a half-giggle in reply and plopped herself onto one of the stools, chin in her hands, eyes following Pearl with an indulgent warmth.
Pearl moved with purpose once she reached the counter, scanning the small kitchen for what she needed. “I thought I’d do something simple,” she said, her voice calm but measured. “How’s some fried rice? We’ve got leftovers, and I’d rather they not go to waste.”
Her eyes darted over the ingredients Gem had tucked away: a container of dried take-out rice, a carton of eggs, and a few neat bags of chopped vegetables Gem had portioned days ago. When her gaze landed on a package of cheap, American sausages, Pearl let out a quiet groan. She picked it up between two fingers as if it were a personal insult.
“Mmf. Sorry, Dad,” she muttered under her breath, setting the sausages down with reluctance. Her mouth tugged into the faintest wry smile, her words more affectionate than dismissive.
Gem chuckled, hiding her grin behind her hand.
“Definitely still not as good as you at cooking,” Pearl admitted, lining the bowls in an almost military row across the counter. She reached for the knife with steady precision, her breath seemed to shake as she examined the blade. She let out a sharp exhale and smirked at Gem. “So… don’t expect any miracles.”
Her hands moved automatically, measuring rice, scattering vegetables, cracking eggs with exacting care. The rhythm was familiar—her perfectionism showing in the sharp corners of her focus. And yet, the edges softened the longer she worked with Gem’s presence humming in the background. She began to hum faintly herself, movements losing their rigidness, her posture easing into something less guarded.
Gem leaned over the counter now and then, poking her head toward a bowl or shifting one of Pearl’s carefully placed utensils a few centimeters to the side. Each time, Pearl swatted gently at her hand, a half-laugh escaping despite herself.
“Nosy,” she scolded with no heat at all, her eyes betraying amusement.
Gem only grinned wider, resting her chin back on her palm and watching Pearl move with the same quiet reverence as if she were watching a sunrise unfold.
Pearl set the pan to heat, the faint shimmer of oil catching the light. Gem leaned forward on the counter, chin in her hands, eyes sparkling with curiosity.
“Any reason for the old rice?” she asked, pointing at the container Pearl had placed nearby.
Pearl smiled faintly, tapping the lid. “Leftover rice is ideal. Fresh rice is too wet—it clumps and turns mushy. When it sits overnight, the moisture evaporates, so you get a nicer texture when frying.” She loosened the grains with the back of a spoon, every movement neat, precise.
Her gaze shifted to the pan, and she added, almost playfully, “Usually I’d use a carbon-steel wok, but…” She gestured at their ordinary frying pan, her mouth quirking. “This is doing just fine, don’t worry.”
Gem giggled softly, watching her with the sort of rapt attention Pearl usually found unnerving.
Pearl slid the knife through the sausage casing with neat precision, the pale links rolling against the cutting board. “Next time I see them, I’ll have to show you Taiwanese sausages. Totally different and in my unbiased opinion, better.”
Gem perked up. “How?”
Pearl dropped in the sausage slices, the sizzle sharp and immediate, scent filling the air. Turning them with care, she said, “These aren’t bad,” Pearl admitted, though her voice carried the faintest wrinkle of distaste. “Just… different. These are heavier on pepper, fennel, sometimes even… maple syrup. The ones I grew up with are tighter, chewier, and have a less… processed texture. The wine gives them a wonderful aroma during cooking. And the flavor—sweet and savory all at once. That’s the part I miss the most.”
Gem, already leaning forward on her stool at the counter, perked up. “Sweet? Wait, they just dump sugar in sausage?”
Pearl shook her head slowly, her mouth curving as she reached for the cutting board. “Not quite.” She held up a peeled garlic clove between two fingers, letting it gleam in the kitchen light. “Here’s a hint.”
Gem blinked at it, puzzled. “Garlic? But garlic’s… sharp. Biting. Not sweet.”
“True. So…?” Pearl tipped her head, coaxing her along. “What happens to garlic when you cook it?”
Gem’s brows drew together in thought. “Well… heat kills the enzyme that makes it pungent—uh, alliinase—so it doesn’t form allicin anymore.” She glanced at Pearl, checking if she was on the right track.
Pearl’s eyes warmed, and she nodded. “Good. Keep going.”
“And then,” Gem continued, growing more animated, “the sulfur compounds break down into milder ones, that’s why roasted garlic is so mellow. But sweetness… sweetness means sugars. Does garlic even have sugars?”
Pearl leaned her elbow on the counter, resting her chin in her hand as she watched her. “What do you think?”
Gem’s face lit up as the pieces fell together. “Oh! Garlic stores its carbs as fructooligosaccharides! And when you heat them, they break down into free fructose and glucose, which are… sweet!”
Pearl gave her an approving nod. “And once those sugars are free?”
Gem’s hands fluttered in front of her like she couldn’t keep the thought contained. “You get the… uhm— Millard reaction!” She laughed breathlessly, as if she’d just solved some grand puzzle.
Pearl set the garlic clove down and reached over to squeeze Gem’s wrist, pride soft in her eyes. “There you go! You got there all on your own.”
Gem practically glowed under the praise, a grin splitting across her face. “God, that’s so cool. That’s so cool!”
Pearl chuckled, turning back to the pan. “I knew you’d like that part.”
Her tone carried a spark of enthusiasm that softened her usual self-criticism. Gem noticed the way her shoulders had loosened, the precision in her movements no longer weighed down by tension.
Gem edged closer, peeking over Pearl’s shoulder. Pearl let her, even guiding a spoon toward her with a small tilt of her head. “Taste this,” she said, offering a bite.
Gem accepted eagerly, lips brushing the spoon before she pulled back with a grin. “That’s really good.”
Pearl’s laugh came quiet, a little surprised. For a moment, she almost added something—words teetering on the edge, about where she’d learned all this, about the expectations woven into her childhood. But the longer she waited, the louder her head screamed, Don’t mess it up. Don’t fall short. Don’t disappoint her. The thoughts pressed at her, unbidden, but she swallowed them down.
The pause lingered between them like a shadow Pearl refused to name. She kept her smile, but it was thinner now, the weight behind it hidden.
Pearl shook her head, forcing the softness of a smile. “Anyway,” she said lightly, “try a bite of the rice too, it’s nice and toasted.”
She fed Gem a spoonful, her hand steady even as her chest pulsed. Gem hummed her approval, enjoying the crisp texture.
Pearl gave the pan a final stir and clicked off the burner. Steam curled up, carrying the scent of soy, garlic, and crisp sausage. She set the spatula aside, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear as she cleared her throat. “Alright… it’s, uh—done. Not perfect, but—”
“It looks amazing,” Gem cut in before Pearl could finish, voice bright and certain. She leaned forward on the counter, eyes shining as she took in the food. “Way better than the takeout we usually eat.”
The words hit Pearl like sunlight through a window. She felt her mouth twitch into a smile before she could stop it, soft and shy. She really thinks so?
Gem hopped up, gathering utensils and bowls without being asked, while Pearl turned to scrub the frying pan. Their movements overlapped easily, the kitchen falling into a rhythm that felt like a habit.
Soon enough, they were seated beside each other, plates steaming between them. The first bite had barely touched Gem’s tongue before she let out a delighted sound. “Oh my god, this is good. You’re getting better and better.”
Pearl froze, almost imperceptibly. Her chest tightened, the compliment settling heavy instead of light. Better? No, I messed up the seasoning. I should’ve— She forced herself to laugh, small and quiet, trying to smooth over the moment. “It’s just fried rice, don’t give me too much credit.”
“Pearl.” Gem’s voice cut through, firm enough to still the air between them. She set her fork down with a quiet clink, eyes locking onto hers. “Don’t do that. Don’t tear yourself down. It’s good, and I won’t let you argue otherwise.”
Her grin that followed was playful, but the authority behind her words left Pearl with no room to retreat.
Heat crept into Pearl’s cheeks. She dropped her gaze to her plate, redirecting with a murmur. “Well… eat up before it gets cold.”
Gem obeyed gladly, diving back in, chatting between bites about her day. The kitchen filled with her laughter, warm and unselfconscious. Pearl let herself listen, the sound easing some of the tightness in her chest.
As they ate, the small touches came naturally. Pearl brushed a crumb from the corner of Gem’s lips, her fingers lingering a heartbeat too long. Later, when Gem leaned against her shoulder with a soft sigh, Pearl shifted just enough to make the contact comfortable, letting her stay there.
Her own habits lingered—measuring ingredients too carefully, adjusting the heat too much, catching herself critiquing tiny flaws. Yet the sharp edges dulled here. Around Gem, the precision wasn’t armor but care, softened into something gentler.
It felt almost frightening to loosen her grip, but when Gem smiled up at her, eyes bright with trust, Pearl let herself breathe.
Lunch had passed in a blur of chatter and laughter, punctuated by Gem’s delighted groans over every bite. Pearl had rolled her eyes at the dramatics, but her smile had lingered all the same. By the time the plates were empty, the easy warmth between them carried into the kitchen as they moved to clean up.
Pearl rolled up her sleeves with quiet determination, stacking dishes in the sink. “I’ll handle this,” she said, reaching for the faucet.
“Not a chance,” Gem countered, already grabbing a dish towel. She stationed herself at Pearl’s side before Pearl could argue further. “You wash, I dry.”
The steady hum of running water filled the space, broken by the clink of dishes passed from hand to hand. Wash, rinse, dry, stack—an easy rhythm that settled between them, shoulders brushing now and then.
Gem filled the silence in her usual way, curiosity spilling over in light questions. “I know I got a taste of it on our date, but I’m sure there’s more to it. So what other food did you like as a kid?” she asked, taking a plate from Pearl’s hands.
Pearl’s face softened. “There was this chicken broth my grandmother made. Simple, but… complex all the same. Mmn I still remember the smell.”
“That sounds amazing.” Gem grinned, rubbing the dish dry. “Did you ever help out with family dinners? Or were you just in it for the snacks?”
Pearl let out a low laugh. “Both. But mostly I hovered until someone made me chop something.”
“Figures. You’re so precise about it now.”
“I can’t help it,” Pearl said, amusement flickering in her voice. “Old habits die hard.”
Gem grinned at that, pleased. She lobbed another question without missing a beat. “What about holidays and stuff?”
“Sometimes,” Pearl said, rinsing another dish. Her tone had loosened, easier now. “It was a whole process—making dumplings took hours, but there was always some cousin to talk to while folding them. It made the time pass.”
“That actually sounds really nice,” Gem said softly. Then, without thinking, she asked, “Did you cook with your parents a lot?”
Pearl’s hands faltered in the water. The dish slipped against her palm for a second before she steadied it. Her expression flickered—gone as quickly as it came, but the silence stretched long enough to betray her pause.
Bitter tears welled in her eyes, forming almost instantly at the mention of her parents, but before she could give them time to fall, she blinked them away, expertly hiding them as she always did. Gem, none the wiser, kept smiling.
Pearl forced a lightness into her tone and pointed at the counter. “You’re dripping water everywhere.”
Gem startled, glancing down to where droplets dotted the wood. “Ah—shit.” She spun quickly to mop at the spill. Her elbow bumped a glass on the edge of the counter, knocking it into a slow fall.
Before the sound of shattering could follow, Pearl’s hand shot out, snatching the glass mid-air before her mind could even catch up.
For a moment, everything stilled. Pearl’s breath hitched. The glass felt heavy in her grip, heavier than it should have. Her fingers trembled as she set it carefully back on the counter.
Why can’t I stop this? It’s been years and still. The weight of muscle memory dragged at her, a tremor ghosting through her fingers.
A sigh slipped past her lips as she pinched the bridge of her nose, trying to will her heartbeat down.
Gem blinked at her, stunned. “N–Nice reflexes,” she said with an awkward smile, the words tumbling out clumsily.
Pearl’s frown tugged at her lips, but it was faint, softened by the tremor still lingering in her chest. She turned back toward Gem, her voice gentle, teasing. “Honestly… you’re so clumsy.”
There was no sharpness in it, only exasperation laced with warmth.
Gem chuckled sheepishly, leaning her shoulder into Pearl’s for a moment before returning to the counter. The rhythm of cleanup resumed, but a faint ripple lingered beneath the surface warmth, the moment refusing to dissolve completely.
After the kitchen was spotless, both of them collapsed onto the couch at once, laughing under their breaths at the unspoken agreement to give up standing. Pearl tugged the nearest blanket down from the backrest and tossed it open, draping it across both of them. Gem didn’t resist in the slightest; she immediately pressed in close, letting herself tangle against Pearl as though it were second nature. Their warmth blended, the rise and fall of their breathing syncing without effort.
For a while, their talk was light. Grocery lists. Late night plans. What to make for dinner tomorrow.
“I’ve got a meet-up with friends tomorrow,” Pearl said eventually, voice casual, almost offhand.
Gem mock-pouted, tilting her head back dramatically. “So I’m just gonna be abandoned, huh?”
Pearl smirked, clearly unimpressed. “You’re free to come along, you know.”
“I’d just… get in the way.” Gem shrugged quickly, her words light but betraying.
Pearl let the silence linger for a moment before easing the subject elsewhere. “How’s… Grian been doing?” Her voice was casual, but not without a small distance — she cared, of course, but Gem was the one seeing him every day, not her.
Gem’s smile spread before she even answered. “He’s fine. A little stressed with classes, but nothing new. He keeps poking around, though. Asking questions about us.”
Pearl arched a brow, both curious and wary. “…?”
“Don’t worry,” Gem said quickly, almost proudly. “I’m keeping him on the nose. He’s not getting anything out of me.”
Pearl’s chuckle was soft, relieved, but carried a layer of fondness too. She cared about him, but this—this closeness with Gem—was theirs. For now, she was glad to keep it untouched.
Gem shifted again, her hand slipping free to trace lazy circles on Pearl’s arm, absent and affectionate. Pearl responded without thinking, tucking Gem in closer and lowering her head to rest against Gem’s, a protective, tender gesture that felt as natural as breathing.
The conversation dwindled as Gem’s voice started to drag, her sentences slurring at the edges. “We should… probably—mm…” Her sentences trailed into nothing. Pearl glanced down, catching the way her eyes had already fluttered closed.
With a sigh that was more fond than exasperated, Pearl tugged the blanket higher to cover her, making sure she was warm. She pressed her lips to the crown of Gem’s head, a fleeting kiss that carried more weight than she meant to let on.
Settling back herself, Pearl let her eyes close, the steady warmth of Gem’s body pressed against her anchoring her in place. She lay still until sleep tugged her under.
The dream began gently, almost tender in its simplicity.
The piano keys were warm beneath Pearl’s fingers, her small hands gliding effortlessly over ivory. She sat straight-backed on the bench, posture perfect, the afternoon light spilling gold across the polished wood. The house was quiet, peaceful in that rare way it used to be, filled only with the soft lilt of her playing. Her hands moved with ease, finding the notes of a simple piece she hadn’t touched in years. The melody unfolded like breathing — familiar, comforting. She didn’t even have to think.
Her chest loosened with each note. I remember this. I know this. It’s easy.
Behind her, she felt presence rather than seeing it. Not intrusive, just her parents’ quiet watchfulness, approving and expectant. For a moment, it was almost nice. Safe.
“Again,” came a voice, calm, firm.
She blinked, fingers stuttering before sliding back to the start. The melody began again.
Another voice joined it, subtle but weighted. “Not good enough. Fix it.”
Her stomach tightened. She obeyed without question, notes pressed a little harder this time, careful, careful.
The warmth thinned. Shadows crept into the edges of the room, and the melody faltered under the growing weight of unseen eyes. Her chest tightened. She tried again, slower this time, but her fingers stumbled.
The piano keys chipped as though made of brittle porcelain. Notes warped, sliding sharp and sour until the simple song turned unrecognizable, discordant. “Again.” Louder. “Fix it.”
Her fingertips grew colder with every press. A note slipped. Then another. The sound warped, twisting into jagged, discordant noise. She tried to correct it, but her fingers refused, trembling as the voices pressed down harder.
Her fingers ached. She pushed harder, desperate to force the melody back into place, but pain flared as her nails cracked, splintering against ivory. Blood welled up where skin split, painting the keys in smudged red. Still, her body moved — mechanical, unrelenting. She played, and bled. The voices sharpened to anger, disappointment, the sound filling every corner of the darkening room.
“Again. Again. Worthless. Not enough.”
Her hands shook violently, but she couldn’t stop. Couldn’t lift them. Every note was wrong. Every sound mocked her.
The room broke apart with the noise — piano chords collapsing into fractured echoes, voices overlapping, louder, angrier.
Her chest heaved. Her hands blurred into fragments, breaking apart under the weight of their demands. She heard fragments of slammed doors, her own sobbing ringing back at her from somewhere far away. Images flickered behind her eyes. Shaking in a locked room, curled on a hospital bed, her own face pale and hollow in a reflection she didn’t want to see.
Then silence.
The piano was gone. The air was gone. There was nothing left but the weight of failure, crushing her from all sides, suffocating.
Pearl jolted awake with a strangled gasp, her whole body snapping upright as if she’d been yanked out of the dark by force. Her fists were locked tight, nails biting into her palms. Her breath tore out in ragged bursts, chest rising too fast, lungs straining for air that didn’t feel like enough.
Calm down. Calm down. Calm down.
Her hands shook as she pressed them against her face, fingers digging hard into her eyes like pressure alone could stop the images, stop the sound still echoing in her skull. Words spilled from her throat without thought, cracked and uneven: “I can’t— 不好… 不够…” She swallowed them back, forcing her mouth shut, but her chest still heaved, betraying her.
She curled in on herself beneath the blanket, shoulders hunched, body trembling with every strained inhale. She clutched at the sheets, fingers twisting into the fabric so tight her knuckles burned white. If she held still, if she just forced herself quiet, maybe it would pass. Maybe she could keep it from spilling over.
But the harder she tried, the more it slipped. Silent tears streamed hot down her face, soaking into the sheets she buried herself against. Despite her best efforts, her breathing came uneven, too loud, too sharp.
The mattress shifted. A soft groan sounded beside her.
Pearl’s blood went cold. Her eyes flew open wide against her palms, heart hammering, panic rising like a tide. No, no, not now. Don’t wake up. Please—
She tried to force her body still, to steady the quake of her shoulders, to ease the rattle of her breath. But she was shaking too violently, clutching the sheets as if they could anchor her. The tears wouldn’t stop; they slipped free no matter how tightly she pressed her face into the pillow, streaking wet trails she couldn’t hide. Each drop deepened the guilt burning through her chest, the shame crashing over her in waves. Pathetic. Weak. Burden. Stop it, stop it, stop it.
Gem stirred again, shifting closer in half-conscious confusion. And Pearl, trapped in her own body, could only fold tighter into herself, breaking quietly as she begged Gem not to.
Gem’s eyes blinked open, still heavy with sleep, but the sound of Pearl’s ragged breathing pulled her straight into alertness. She shifted onto her side instinctively, hand reaching out.
“Pearl?” Her voice was rough, quiet with sleep, but thick with worry.
Pearl flinched at the touch on her arm. Her shoulders locked tight, spine rigid, body caught between the instinct to shove Gem away and the desperate need to collapse into her warmth. Don’t. Don’t drag her into this. Handle it yourself. Just breathe. Her breath came in shallow bursts, hitching painfully as she curled tighter into herself.
But Gem didn’t let go. Her hand moved slowly, firmly, sliding to Pearl’s back and holding her there, not trapping but anchoring. She leaned in, her forehead brushing Pearl’s temple as she murmured softly, words tumbling out without thought. “Hey, hey… it’s alright. I’ve got you. I’m here.”
Her voice was steady where Pearl’s wasn’t, low and grounding. Gem drew in a slow breath, exhaling against Pearl’s hair so she could feel the rhythm of it, letting her heartbeat press steady against Pearl’s shoulder.
Pearl shook in her arms, still resisting, but the rigid wall began to crack. Her forehead dropped against Gem’s shoulder, the tension slowly bleeding out of her frame. Her fingers twitched once, twice, before finally curling into Gem’s shirt, clutching tight. Tremors still ran through her, but she let them. She let herself lean.
Neither spoke. Minutes passed in silence, the only sound their uneven breaths gradually finding each other’s rhythm.
When Pearl finally drew in something closer to a steady inhale, her voice was hoarse, barely a whisper. “...Thank you.”
She lifted her head just enough, lips brushing against Gem’s with a fragile kiss. It was fleeting, soft, trembling. Carrying both fear and gratitude.
Gem kissed her back with the same gentleness, and when she pulled away, she whispered haltingly, “It’s okay… 我在这. I’m here.”
Pearl blinked, startled not by the clumsy accent but by the effort, the choice to meet her in a language Gem still barely knew. Her eyes brimmed, but her body softened fully into Gem’s arms. The fear didn’t vanish, but it dulled, replaced by a fragile warmth.
Her eyes brimmed again, wetness catching in the faint light. But this time, when she tucked herself back into Gem’s arms, her body softened fully, surrendering to the warmth that held her. The fear still pulsed beneath her skin, but it had gentled into something she could bear — wrapped in the cocoon of Gem’s steady embrace.
They lay together in the quiet, the blanket pulled close around them. The edges of Pearl’s nightmare still lingered, jagged and raw, but wrapped in Gem’s steady embrace, they didn’t cut quite as deep.
For tonight, it was enough.