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Through her phone, Rumi could make out the slightly fuzzy sound of humming and something sizzling in a pan. She had her camera on, front-facing and pointed in her direction while she wrote and crossed out lyrics and notes on said lyrics, and every time she looked over, it was the same serene picture of Zoey. Or at least as serene as Zoey could be. Rumi loved her, she loved her so much. There was never going to be a doubt about that, and she loved her flamboyance and vivacity just as much.
From her seat, she could barely make out the massive pile of something vaguely brown and resembling rice that Zoey was carelessly flipping around, some of the contents spilling onto the stove below.
“Zoey, baby, is that your dinner?” Rumi asked in a mildly concerned tone.
Her girlfriend’s head turned so she could peer into the camera, and Rumi was met with a bright smile that she couldn’t look away from.
“Dinner and lunch for tomorrow! Two pounds of lean ground beef, four cups of rice, and a whole shitload of garlic powder.” Zoey stated proudly as she held two thumbs up in the direction of her phone, the smile still glued onto her face like a picture.
Rumi on the other hand… “Zo, that’s… abhorrent.”
Zoey didn’t falter. She picked up her spatula, flipped the rice mixture a few more times, then finally clicked the burner off and turned to fully face her camera. “That’s what you think, but you eat like a bird, and I know you prefer fish over red meat. Plus, the season starts in three weeks, so I’m bulking right now to prepare for the torment that coach is about to put us through.” To accentuate her words, Zoey pointed the spatula at her phone, flicking rice and beef across the counter.
Well, she did have a point there. Rumi let her eyes wander down Zoey’s frame, taking in her tanned, freckled skin that wrapped tightly around meticulously cared for muscles. Taking a second longer to examine, Rumi could now make out the little bit of extra weight that was evident on her arms and around her hips. She bit her lip and let her eyes roam, the notebook in front of her forgotten completely.
At least it was until Zoey was snapping at her screen. “Focus, Rums. I know I’m hot, but you’ve been stressing over those lyrics for weeks. Don’t make me put my shirt back on.”
Rumi rolled her eyes, but there was no malice in the movement. She tucked her pen between her teeth and continued to stare, mumbling around the plastic. “I could just take my shirt off, make it even. Who even cooks with their shirt off anyway?”
Zoey chuckled at the remark, but her expression turned serious, a hint of something mischievous in her eyes. “I do, when I want my pretty girlfriend to swoon over me.”
Rumi made a soft ‘hmph’ noise and set her pen down on her notepad, the lyrics long forgotten. She toyed with the hem of her shirt—a loose fitting T that she’d stolen from Zoey during the younger woman’s last visit to Korea.
“What are you waiting for, pretty girl? Take it off. Make it even.” Zoey practically purred through her mic, and the words sent a fire straight to Rumi’s core.
Unfortunately, as soon as her fingers dipped underneath the fabric to pull the shirt off, a knock on her door startled her into dropping it back into place. “What-?” She squinted at her phone, seeing the time at the top of the screen and groaned, slapping her palm to her forehead. “Shit, Zoey, I’m so sorry. I didn’t even realize what time it was.”
She watched Zoey’s expression fold, going from light and teasing, to a bit somber, and Rumi saw right through the painful understanding on her face.
“You have to go?” Zoey asked, and even her voice was more timid. Rumi’s heart clenched.
A little shamefully, Rumi nodded. “Yeah. I have a meeting at eleven with a new producer. I think that was the driver knocking to let me know that he’s waiting.”
Rumi blinked at the time again. 10:17am. She was still in her fucking pajamas.
She didn’t even want to go to this meeting, and the more Rumi thought about it, the more she felt that it really wasn’t even necessary. Celine had hand-picked the new producer from a batch of fresh applicants after firing her last one, so whatever she would have to say during this wouldn’t matter anyway. Celine’s mind was set, and her word was final. Any negotiations, company agreements, paperwork—it all went through her aunt. Rumi would just be there to look pretty.
“I could probably skip-” Rumi tried but, Zoey cut her off by flicking the camera on her phone.
“No, you can’t. Celine will have your head if you do that, and you know I never mind listening to you vent about her, but I can only take so many more of your stories about what she did or said before I fly out there and give her a piece of my mind, and maybe a piece of these hands.”
Rumi laughed again, watching her girlfriend make jabs at the air. Her heart beat a little too heavy in her chest suddenly, and she leaned onto her arm against her desk, staring fondly at the screen. “Zoey?”
She stopped her motions, looking back with a goofy grin. “Yeah?”
Rumi reached her other arm out and picked her phone up off of the stand, cradling it a little closer to her face so she could see all of the freckles dotting the younger woman’s face. “I love you.”
Zoey’s face melted into something softer, something that no one else got to see, and that fact made Rumi’s chest ache. “I love you too, Rums,” Zoey spoke softly into the phone, flicking her eyes up to the top of the screen, then back down again, clearly having checked the time herself. “You need to go get ready, superstar. Celine is probably pacing with a stick up her ass as we speak.”
Rumi broke out in another short burst of laughter. She wished so badly that she could stay right here, but Zoey was definitely right. “I know. I’ll call you when I get back, okay?”
“You better.” Zoey said sternly, though Rumi could hear the joking manner in her tone.
They gave their final goodbyes, Zoey leaned in to press a dramatic kiss to her camera, and then there was nothing. Three deafening beeps filled her ears as the call finally ended.
Rumi leaned back in her chair with a long sigh. She carded her fingers through her hair, silently thanking herself for taking the time to brush it this morning. She wouldn’t have the time to braid it, but a hat would do just fine to cover her flyaways. She looked at her phone and watched the clock tick up again, still weighing her options and debating just how mad Celine would be if she flaked out of the meeting.
Right as she stood up and was about to shove her phone into her pocket, the offending object dinged and vibrated in her hand. She turned it around in her hand, expecting to see a text from Celine or Bobby, but instead she saw a message from Zoey.
Zazu 🐢:
Here’s a little something for motivation 💚Get to your meeting on time so you can come back home to me. I’m mad at you, but not mad enough to not finish whatever was about to happen.
The message itself had Rumi blushing, but the picture below it had her squeezing her thighs together. Zoey was completely naked from the waist up, laying in bed with her hand tucked into her waistband, pulling it down just enough for Rumi to see the beginning of black curls peaking out. The lighting in her room was far better than in the kitchen as well, casting shadows over her abs like she was the focus of some kind of renaissance painting.
She really wanted to text Celine, to tell her that she wasn’t feeling well, or just to sign for her because she trusted her, but Rumi knew it would get her a reprimanding from hell. So, she opted for pulling her shorts down just enough to show off her hip bones and lifted her shirt up to expose the underside of her breasts, snapped a lazy picture that was a little blurry, and sent it off with a simple text.
Rumi:
I’ll make it up to you, promise 💜
~•~•~
As expected, the meeting was a drag. Celine had done exactly what Rumi predicted: talked over her every time she opened her mouth, negotiated for her, and even signed for her like Rumi wasn’t there at all. This was just how things were, how they always went, and she would’ve been happy to sit there silently like the well trained idol that she was if she wasn’t so eager to get back to her penthouse.
The entire time, she’d found herself sneaking glances down at her phone, and her anxiety would dwindle just a little every time she saw another reassuring or flirty message from Zoey. As soon as the meeting was finished, Rumi was up and running to the elevator, Celine left behind with a baffled and unamused expression. She would definitely be receiving an email about office etiquette later, but she didn’t care. The only thing on her mind right now was Zoey.
Now, two hours later, Rumi was a sweaty heap in her bed, sheets tossed haphazardly on the floor, phone propped up on a pillow, with her ratty childhood teddy bear tucked under her chin.
“Was it worth the wait?” Rumi teased, her voice rough from overuse.
Zoey’s expression was an enigma of blissful calm staring back at her. She had both arms folded underneath the back of her head, face angled towards her camera, chest covered in a light sheen of sweat. “You could have sent me the kiss emoji and it still would’ve been worth it.”
Rumi laughed softly and squeezed the bear tighter to her chest. “Yeah, well… I wanted something out of it too.”
There was a bit of a shuffling coming through her speakers, a pause, then a content sigh and huff as Zoey settled back down on her side, giving Rumi a full frontal view of her girlfriend's body. She flicked an eyebrow up and smirked a little, taking in the image of her toned body and her black hair layered on the pillow like silk.
“You’re looking at me like you want more.” Zoey teased lightly.
“That’s because I do want more. Phone sex is great, but it doesn’t beat having my face between your thighs.”
Zoey’s face flushed a deep red, and Rumi gave herself a silent pat on the back, though the words cut deeper into her own mind than she’d meant for them to.
“You’re insatiable.” Zoey muttered, looking a little embarrassed and suddenly forlorn.
Something shifted then, and there was an uncomfortable twinge in Rumi’s stomach. “Can you blame me? I haven’t touched you in months.” The fire in her words was gone—replaced by a heavy longing.
Unfortunately for both of them, that wasn’t an exaggeration. Zoey turned her head into her pillow and groaned, clearly still feeling the embarrassment of it all, but when she finally picked herself up to look back at Rumi, they both shared a silent understanding. It had been too long, and the distance was getting harder to handle.
“We should talk about it. What our plan is.” Zoey said, and when she opened her mouth again, Rumi cut her off.
“We will, not tonight though, okay? I promise we will talk, but you need to go to bed, and I need to make dinner.” Her tone was gentle, yet authoritative, and she watched Zoey’s eyes dull just the littlest bit. It tore into her chest, leaving her feeling raw in ways she hated, but she had nothing to say right now. There was no advice that would make this any less painful.
Even through the cracked expression on her face, Zoey still joked to lighten the somber mood. “I know. You should try one of my recipes. Maybe you can use some of that canned tuna that I stocked up on last time.”
Rumi grimaced and shuddered, feeling the vice grip on her lungs release enough for her to breathe. “No, your cat food is staying in its spot, untouched, like it has been since you were last here.”
“Oh come on Ru, it’s not that bad! The canned tuna in Korea is way better than it is in America too.” Zoey said and laughed quietly at her disdain.
“No ma’am, I am not touching that. Nor will I be trying any of your recipes, and I mean that with full offense.”
Zoey lifted a hand to her chest, her face crunched into one of betrayal and pain. “I can't believe you! After everything we’ve been through, you don’t trust me enough to try my canned tuna and eggs recipe. It’s all protein, baby! It’s good for you!”
Rumi feigned a gag, throwing her hand over her mouth to get her point across. “Zo, you put peanuts in it.”
Zoey’s response was that of someone who had absolutely no clue what was wrong with that concept. “Again, babe. Protein.”
“No.” Rumi deadpanned.
Their conversation eventually died off into small fits of laughter, then into a comfortable silence. She watched Zoey yawn with her mouth wide and her eyes pinched shut, ending it with a soft squeak and a smack of her lips. She brushed her thumb against her girlfriend’s tiring form on the screen, fighting the urge to close her own eyes and fall into an unnecessarily early rest. She was hungry though, and she knew Zoey would scold her relentlessly if she didn’t at least eat something small.
Rumi sighed through her mild disappointment, and smiled warmly at Zoey. “I’m going to let you sleep now, do you want me to stay on the call?”
Zoey smiled blearily, her eyes already starting to slip shut as she fought off exhaustion. “Mhmmm…”
“Sleep well, jagiya. I love you.” Rumi muttered fondly, fidgeting with the promise ring that was sitting heavier than usual on her finger.
“Love you too, Ruru.”
Rumi watched her for a few minutes after that, long enough for her to see her eyelids settle and her chest fall into short, even breaths. She slipped out of bed with the kind of quiet practice reserved for not waking an infant, and padded across her room towards her closet.
A message was already typed out and sent to Bobby when she finally pulled a duffel bag down and roamed her eyes over the endless expanse of clothing.
Rumi:
How fast can we be wheels up to LAX?
Celine would kill her, but Rumi decided that she would happily be a martyr for Zoey’s love.
~•~•~
Ultimately, Rumi couldn’t have planned it better (she didn’t plan any of this, actually). Still, her stomach was turning, her palms were sweaty, and the Los Angeles sun was beating down on her back like a threat. She hadn’t said anything to Zoey about her arrival in her home city because she wanted to surprise her, and that little fact was where things were going wrong. Rumi had always been by the book. It was how Celine had raised her, how she held herself in public, and how she kept herself from going insane in her sheltered, idol world.
It hadn’t taken Bobby long to arrange a flight for her, all things considered. Between her hasty and shoddy packing job, fueling, and security and safety checks, her private jet was off of the runway not even three hours after her text was sent. Zoey was still dead to the world by the time they were in the air, and she’d landed in Los Angeles a little before four in the afternoon, making it just before eight in the morning in Seoul. Which, given Rumi’s normal wake up time of 7:30am, it was perfect.
However, perfection had standards, and Rumi’s entire existence was the biggest flaw in her own code.
She flipped through the possibilities in her mind, tapping her foot nervously outside of Zoey’s apartment door. Her lip was tucked between her teeth, a sacrifice to her anxious self loathing. What if Zoey didn’t want to see her? What if she was busy? She was probably at the gym, or dinner with teammates, or meeting with her coach or—what if she was cheating and Rumi was about to walk in on her—
They’d been together for seven years. Zoey was still living in Korea when Rumi had her first debut, and they’d been through hell and back. Zoey’s first major soccer injury, Rumi losing her voice from her lack of self care and having to cancel show after show, Celine’s incessant demands, Zoey getting picked up by a pro team in Los Angeles, Zoey moving back to America because Rumi had insisted that they would make the distance work, that playing for them was a huge step for her career, because it was.
So why the fuck was she so nervous to knock on her girlfriend’s door?
A text. One simple text from Zoey, sent to her when she was still mid flight. She looked down at her phone again as the roiling acid in her stomach started to rise up her throat.
Zazu 🐢:
Call me when you wake up, please. Something happened, we need to talk.
That had done it. That was probably the worst thing someone could ever text their significant other, and Zoey had done it. She flew here on a whim, and was about to be met with a big fat break up. She could turn back around and pretend that she’d never even come here in the first place, but that was a coward's way out. Rumi was pathetic, but she refused to be a coward, so no, she wouldn’t leave. She was going to grovel at Zoey’s feet and beg her to take her back like the pathetic loser that she always has been.
Fuck it. Whatever was about to happen, she just needed to get it over with. If her heart was about to be shattered like glass, she needed Zoey to just do it so she could go back to Seoul and wallow away in her music. She lifted her hand up, knuckles prepped and ready to make contact with the door, when it flew open. She was met with an unimpressed face and a head of pink hair.
Mira—Zoey’s captain and best friend, the queen of falsified nonchalantness.
“I’m glad you finally worked up the courage to knock. I was actually about to just open the door and pull you inside since you wanted to be a fucking creep and stare at our door for five minutes.”
“What-”
“Zoey! Your girlfriend is standing here like a fucking cryptid in the doorway. Come get her, please?” Mira didn’t wait for Rumi to even process the words before she was being pushed past. The taller woman flipped her hand up in an innocuous wave, keys jingling between her fingers. “I’m going to the gym, have fun, please don’t have sex on the couch.”
Rumi’s head flipped side to side, the image of bouncing pink waves walking away, then back to the now open door, Zoey’s apartment staring back at her—scratch that—Zoey staring back at her.
“Rumi?” There, in all of her 5’3” glory, was the love of her life. Her hair was down in loose waves, face clear of any kind of makeup, wearing a t shirt with Rumi’s face fucking plastered all over it, and a pair of teal boxers.
Her next movement wasn’t calculated or practiced; it was clumsy, selfish, and desperate. She lunged forward into the apartment, barely managing to catch her foot on the door to kick it shut behind her, and pulled her girlfriend into a brutally tight hug. For a moment, Zoey didn’t make any kind of motion to hug her back, and the message ran rampant through her mind. She doesn’t want you here, she really was planning on breaking things off-
Before her thoughts could spiral even further, Zoey was wrapping her own arms around her waist just as tightly.
“What are you doing here?” Zoey asked, her voice muffled by Rumi’s shirt. She felt the muscles in the arms around her flexing, squeezing somehow even tighter, to the point that her ribs were starting to ache a little. She didn’t fucking care though. She didn’t care because Zoey was in her arms, shaking and sniffling just the same as she was.
“I needed to see you and tell you in person how much you mean to me, that I miss you, that I’m sorry.” Rumi ground out the words through the aching constraint in her throat. She pressed her nose into soft, jet black hair, breathing in the scent of coconut and the lingering tang of ocean spray.
Zoey shuffled against her, bumping her head up lightly into Rumi’s chin so she could finally look at her girlfriend. “Sorry? For what? Rumi you haven’t done anything wrong, and you’re here. How are you here right now?”
Rumi shook her head and tried to hide her face, to hide the shame etched onto it, but Zoey was having none of it. The hold on her body loosened slightly as Zoey leaned back just enough to fully look at her again. “Ru…”
“I shouldn’t have left yesterday. I should have told Celine to have the meeting without me, and I should have stayed and spent time with you and-” Zoey gripped her chin firmly, stopping her rambling before it could get worse.
“Sweetheart, you are a literal Popstar with a million responsibilities and demands. I’m not mad at you. I was never actually mad at you.” Zoey’s voice was soft, yet held enough conviction in it to get the point across. Still, her text from earlier in the day was heavy in her mind.
Zoey’s eyes widened a little at the sudden realization that Rumi was standing in her apartment, in LA, when the night before she’d been in her own bed in Seoul. “Did you seriously take a red eye across the fucking world to apologize for something you can’t control?”
Rumi didn’t answer, because yes, she had. She skipped dinner and had barely slept, and to be honest, was maybe a little delirious right now. “I couldn’t stand knowing that I was the reason for you being upset yesterday. I know you’re going to say it’s not my fault-”
“Because it isn’t.” Zoey said decisively.
“But-”
Zoey’s grip on her chin tightened to cut her off.
“Rumi.”
“No—Zoey. If you’re not mad, then what was that text about?” Rumi managed to squeak out.
Zoey’s eyebrows furrowed, and her lips parted slightly. “What text?”
What text-
“Zoey, “Something happened. We need to talk.” What do you mean ‘what text’?” It was Rumi’s turn to look confused as the words registered in Zoey’s mind.
“Oh! Oh. Fuck, Rumi, I sent that so out of context.” The hand on her face slipped away, snaking between their bodies so that she could fish her phone out of her pocket. “I was so not in my right mind when I sent that to you, and I am so sorry for that. I had a meeting with the team's manager this morning. It’s just soccer stuff, nothing to do with us—at least not anything like what you’re thinking.”
A million different scenarios had gone through Rumi’s head over the last four hours since that text first popped up. Something as logical as soccer was not one of those scenarios.
Without the overbearing assumption that she was about to be dumped, Rumi let her shoulders sag a little. After not having slept for twenty four hours and being on high alert for nearly half of her flight, exhaustion hit her like a punch. Rumi wasn’t even fully aware of what was going on when Zoey started dragging her towards her kitchen and pulled out one of the high-top chairs.
“Come on, sit, breathe.”
She slipped into the chair, her feet dangling a few inches from the ground and her hands folded awkwardly in her lap. Zoey pushed herself up onto the counter and sat perched in front of her, then nudged one of Rumi’s hands with a sock-clad foot.
Rumi looked up in response to the attempt at getting her attention. Zoey was looking at her with all of the love and patience in the world, and with a quiet voice she asked, “Hold me?”
The question was so casual and lighthearted, and it eased the tension in her shoulders enough for her to gain the courage to do just that. She picked her arms up, shuffled the chair a little closer to the counter, then wrapped her arms around Zoey’s midsection. She felt nails—trimmed and a little stubby—scratch softly at her scalp, and the familiar comfort of it had her head falling softly into Zoey’s chest.
“There you go… we’re good, Ruru. I’m here.” Zoey’s nails worked in slow patterns, brushing through the small tangles that had formed during her flight. The longer they stayed like that, the easier it was to breathe, and eventually, Rumi felt weightless and warm.
She gazed up at Zoey, who was watching her like she had the world in her hands. “So you’re not breaking up with me?”
Zoey chuckled softly and brushed her fingers down Rumi’s jawline, letting her thumb slide over her cheek. “Is that what you thought?”
Rumi nodded, slow and mechanical, feeling more than a little silly suddenly.
Soft lips coated with some kind of desert flavored chapstick pressed to her forehead, and Zoey settled her hand on the back of Rumi’s neck, warm and grounding. “Fuck no, Rumi, you’re it for me. You’re my end game, okay? Nothing is going to make me give up on you. On us.”
Rumi let out a long sigh of relief, feeling the pressure in her chest finally release. “Okay, okay.” Her bottom lip trembled the slightest little bit, but she held herself strong, needing to hear the reason behind Zoey causing her to have a mid-flight crash out. “What…what was it about then?”
Zoey hesitated, her mouth opening and closing, similar to a fish on dry land, then announced, “Angel City isn’t extending my contract.”
Well, that certainly was not what she was expecting. Rumi tore her head away from Zoey’s body, nearly knocking her head into the younger woman’s chin in her haste. “You’re getting cut?”
Rumi watched her girlfriend tilt her head back and forth for a moment. “I wouldn’t say cut, more like… a mutual separation. I’ve been wanting to get out of LA for a little while now, so I’m moving.” Zoey said it so casually, like it wasn’t a big deal at all.
“Wait—to where? Zoey, LA is your home. You grew up here. Please don’t tell me you’re going to end up in some landlocked state with a shitty winter.”
Zoey chuckled and shook her head. “No, trust me. I wouldn’t leave LA unless it was absolutely worth it.”
“You’re not going to miss it?” Rumi reached up to slot her fingers in between Zoey’s.
“I will, but I’ve missed Seoul way more.” Zoey stated quietly, her eyes soft and expectant.
Rumi blinked at her. No, she definitely heard that wrong. “What? So you’re… I’m sorry, I need you to spell it out for me. My brain is still catching up from the lack of sleep.”
Zoey laughed and pressed her lips against Rumi’s forehead, coaxing out a fresh set of tears. Of course, they were different this time. Instead of the miserable, depressed tears she’d been crying all day, these were solely from happiness. Rumi buried her face back against Zoey’s chest, a smile gracing her lips.
Zoey spoke a small whisper into her hair. “You’re banging the South Korean national team's new striker.”
Rumi scoffed, slightly taken aback by how unserious she was for something that was as big of a deal as this. “That is the most Zoey way of telling me something like that. Are you serious?”
They pulled away from each other, Rumi taking in the full picture of how happy Zoey looked right now. Zoey nodded, “I’m so fucking serious. I was on the call with the national team's GM this morning. That’s why my text was so short and horribly worded. I was honestly freaking the fuck out and couldn’t wait to tell you, but I didn’t want to wake you up.”
Rumi’s mind took exactly as long to register those words as it did for Zoey’s composure to crack. A wide grin broke out on both of their faces and Rumi was up and pushing the chair back, crashing into Zoey’s body so she could take the younger woman in her arms completely.
“I’m so fucking proud of you.” Rumi cried into Zoey’s neck, holding the shorter woman against her in a crushing embrace.
A wet laugh broke free from Zoey’s chest as her own tears started to fall, staining the collar of Rumi’s sweater. “I’m coming home, baby.”
Home. Zoey was coming home.
They stayed there, Rumi slotted comfortably between Zoey’s thighs, arms tight around each other, soft kisses pressed to even softer skin, both of them content to breathe in the surreal moment. It wasn’t until a door slammed somewhere down the hall, that Rumi was knocked out of her trance. She pulled her head back just enough to look down at Zoey, who smiled right back at her.
“Do you want to go have really hot celebratory sex on the couch to piss Mira off?” Zoey asked mischievously.
“Fuck yes.” Rumi wasted no time in lifting her girlfriend up and into her arms, carrying her to the living room.