Chapter Text
𓇼 ⋆.˚ 𓆉 𓆝 𓆡⋆.˚ 𓇼 ⋆.˚ 𓆉 𓆝 𓆡⋆.˚ 𓇼 ⋆.⋆.˚ 𓆉 𓆝 𓆡⋆.˚ 𓇼 ⋆.˚
The baby store in Hongdae was having a sale. This, Mira would reflect later, was their first mistake. The second mistake was letting Zoey see some post about "essentials every new parent needs." The third — and perhaps most critical — mistake was assuming they could get in and out in under thirty minutes.
“Okay,” Rumi announced, her phone out, a few flyaway strands framing her face in the humidity, and she had that focused look she got when she was Being Organized. “We need the hypoallergenic bottles, more burp cloths, and—”
“OH MY GOSH.”
It wasn't this small gasp. It was a gasp that made other shoppers turn and peer over at what the hell caused that reaction. The gasp that made Mira's protective instincts immediately surge into action, drawing Rumi in closer. Her hand tightened around the stroller where their six-month-old baby boy — who they'd taken to calling Guppy as a nickname, much to everyone's delight — was currently fascinated by his own tiny fist, an iridescent shimmer of his fingers showcasing his contentment.
“What?” Mira questioned, alert eyes jumping around, already scrutinizing the area for possible threats. “What's wrong?”
Their maknae just stood frozen in the aisle, hands pressed to her chest like she'd just witnessed something so life changing, so grand. Her eyes were much wider than usual, shimmering with that particular brand of chaos that Mira and Rumi had learned to recognize over the years. Taking her time, almost for dramatic buildup, Zoey reached out and lifted something from the rack.
A pink octopus onesie.
She elevated it high up above her head like Simba from The Lion King, the tentacles dangling down in striking effect.
“I have found,” The maknae’s declaration trembled with ridiculous emotion, “perfection.”
Mira felt her eye spasming behind her glasses. “Zoey, we're here for bottles—”
“RUMI.” Zoey turned, still holding the onesie aloft. “LOOK AT THE TENTACLES.”
Rumi had glanced up from her phone, and Mira could see the exact moment her resolve started to disintegrate to dust. That look gentling her features, the one where their Rumi got emotional at children's birthday parties and cried during animated movies and Bluey ... which okay, all of them do, could you blame them?
“Zoey, sweetie,” Rumi began, but there was a smile already hoisting her lips up. “We bought a lot of baby outfits for Guppy this week..."
“Yes, but were any of them CEPHALOPODS?” Zoey was already striding toward the cart, onesie clutched to her chest in case Mira attempted to take it away. “I didn't think so.”
Mira attempted to hold firm, of course she really did. Someone had to be the voice of reason in this relationship ... okay well in this specific case, and it certainly wasn't going to be Rumi, who was now actively examining the onesie with absolute wonder. “You can't just use scientific terms to justify—”
“Octopi has three hearts, Mira.” The Korean-American's voice had gained severeness, the way it often did when she was about to make a very damn unhinged point that would somehow make perfect sense. “THREE. Just like our baby has three moms.”
She paused at their reactions, irises cutting sideways with the kind of flair that made the silence itself roll its eyes. “This is fate. This is destiny. This is marine synchronicity.”
Despite herself, the corner of her mouth betrayed Mira. She pretended to adjust the stroller or fix the cute bucket hat on her child's head ( matching ones, courtesy of Zoey ), a flimsy cover Zoey saw right through.
“I don’t think marine synchronicity is a thing in this case,” Rumi too was fighting her own expression, digits playing with the ends of her braid.
“It is NOW!” Zoey declared, and gently — so gently — placed the octopus onesie in the cart next to the boring, practical bottles they actually needed.
Mira glowered at it. She glowered at her wife's dopey, radiating with hope kind of grin. Peered at her other wife, who was absolutely not going to be any help because Rumi was already taking a picture of the onesie "for the memories."
She could take it out. She should take it out. They had a list.
They had a freaking plan.
In and out.
Though she cannot even use the excuse that they have a budget, because really ... I mean do you even know who they are?
Their little one bursted with a gurgling squeal, his stubby fingers waving in the air, almost as if on board with his eommas.
“See, even Guppy likes it, don’t you, aegiya?”
“FINE,” Mira heard the words tumble out of her mouth before she could stop them — and her innards melted immediately when Zoey’s whole face brightened like a child on Christmas morning. "But this is the ONLY non-essential thing we're buying today.”
“Yes! Absolutely! I promise!” Zoey was already jumping on her toes, plucking her phone out of her pocket. “I'm just gonna... quickly check if they have other marine animals...”
“Zoey.”
“Just LOOKING, babe! Just looking!”
Rumi nestled closer to her one of two lovers, arm wounding around her midsection before a soft kiss landed on her cheek. “You're such a softie,” she murmured, quiet enough that only Mira could hear.
“Shut up,” Despite her words, Mira was smiling, properly smiling, and she didn't retract when Rumi intertwined their fingers together. If anything she brought their joined hands to her lips, and both chuckled at the cooing sounds their baby boy made.
From three or so aisles over, they heard their HEAVEN-SENT maknae, their Zoey, yell, "THEY HAVE A TURTLE ONE!”
Rumi's hand tautened around Mira's. "Should we—”
“No,” She was going to stand her ground this time. Hell yes. “Absolutely not. We are NOT—”
"IT HAS A LITTLE SHELL ON THE BACK!”
Mira's eyes fluttered shut, exhaled deep from within her lungs. Reminded that she loved these two disasters more than anything in the world. These three beings that flourished joy and greatness into her life.
“I'll get the cart,” Rumi was already letting go of Mira's hand, and making her way over. "Zoey! Uh — what's that thing called of calling out the name and they respond with—”
“Marco—”
“—Marco!”
“POLO! Rumi, over here!”
“Traitor,” Mira called after her, but laughter was already bubbling, and baby Guppy was beaming up at her with that gummy smile and fawn-browns, and somewhere in the distance his eommas were probably finding twelve more ocean-themed onesies.
They left the store forty-five minutes later with:
✔︎ The hypoallergenic bottles ( success )
✔︎ Burp cloths ( also success )
+ One octopus onesie
+ One sea turtle onesie ( "It's FATE, Mira, we literally have matching turtle pajamas! Bobby is gonna love this!" )
+ One jellyfish onesie ( "But it glows in the dark!" )
+ And a small stuffed turtle that Zoey insisted their baby needed as "moral support" despite already owning 4 of them
The late afternoon sun slanted through their car windows as they loaded everything in — golden hour arriving early, painting the world in amber hues. Rumi carefully buckled in their joyful baby, Zoey was already planning a photoshoot and noisily kissing Mira's face with so many 'thank you's and 'I love you so much's, while Mira feigned exasperation and neutrality, secretly cataloging which onesie would look most adorable first.
In the reflection of the car window, Mira caught sight of herself — there was a radiating glow about her, unfiltered warmth and jubilation softening features she'd always thought too sharp, too severe. Her wives' love had sanded down her edges into something capable of this overwhelming tenderness.
Huh. Maybe marine synchronicity was a thing after all.