Work Text:
“Rise and shine, bitches!” Zoey blurted way louder than needed, shaking Mira’s duvet off her, revealing her blue and white panda pyjamas with two cute bowties on either panda ears.
Mira grumbled.
Rumi grumbled louder despite getting more overall sleep.
“We have go-karts to ride!” The maknae continued as she bounced up and down, dropping her beloved Shelly on the wrapper-covered floor.
“Yeah at midday, dumbass.” Mira replied in mock annoyance, throwing a pillow in Zoey’s general direction, hitting over her own panda cup.
“Yeah, Zoey we still have like, what, four hours?” Rumi questioned, squinting at her apple watch which has been dead for the last week.
“Try a quarter of that, baby.” Zoey stabbed back, crossing her arms over her sports bra, further lifting her cleavage.
“Mother fucker!” Mira hissed to herself, lifting her heavy head off her cloudlike pillow.
The pink-haired dancer made her way around the double bed she slept in with Rumi, who bear hugged her the whole night, intentionally rubbing the back of her hand across the singer’s feet.
“You have to pay to touch these dawgs, baby.” Rumi teases, lightly kicking to regulate the slight tickle.
“Come on, Ru. You ought to get up too!” Zoey eagerly jabbed, pulling the singer by her jumper which fit snug around her turtleneck.
“Why do you even sleep with that stupid thing anyways, babe?” The dancer questioned, pointing vaguely to the turtleneck as if it were a crime.
“Actually yeah, why do you sleep with that on?” Zoey agreed, repeating Mira’s loose gesture almost like a game of cat and mouse.
“It feels nice around my neck, so what?” Rumi finally replied, stroking her neck in the process almost as if she were strangled.
“Baby, all you need to do to have something wrap around your neck is ask me or Mira,” Zoey sassed, motioning a choking movement on herself through a suggestive wink
“Yeah, princess, our hands are free for you, my love. All you need to do is say please and thank you.”Mira teased more, her hands making their way towards the singer’s Adam’s apple as she licked her teeth.
Dodging the veiny hand closing towards her neck, Rumi finally had her reason to climb out of the mountain of plushies surrounding her in bed.
“Okay, I’m up, I’m up.” Rumi surrendered, raising both hands like a white flag.
Traversing the disgustingly trashed floor the girls were able to produce through the countless late nights, Rumi made her way to the cramped wardrobe.
“Holy hell this stupid box needs to be bigger.” The singer bluntly stated, hiding the fact she secretly enjoyed how cozy it was to not have a 16 story high walk-in closet like she has back at the Huntrix penthouse.
As much as she had the most variety of clothes out of the three of them, Rumi only chose to bring basically identical clothing to the vacation.
Sieving her way through the third white turtleneck and the sixth beige jumper, the purple-haired lover’s eyes landed on the shirt Mira and Zoey pitched for her birthday last year.
A Linkin Park shirt.
Meteora to be exact. It was her favourite album of all time after all.
“Perfect.” She stated, holding the baggy shirt at arms length, loving how it hid her curves whilst conveniently showing off the small traces of rock she had burning inside her.
“You really love that shirt, don’t you, my love?” Mira prodded, knowing that this was the one thing that Rumi kept as a reminder that no matter what, Mira and Zoey will always love her.
“More than anything.” The singer replied, hugging the shirt close to her chest as she naturally took off the three layers hiding bare skin
“More than us, cutie pie?” Zoey further interrogated, leaning herself off her elbow which trembled slightly as she held it on the doorframe.
“Never.” Rumi quickly replied, looking over her right shoulder, showing her genuine smile - the one smile which made the two girls’ minds crawl.
Draping the beige shirt over her head, temporarily obscuring her vision, Rumi found her way to the corner of the bed to sit on as she put her baggy denim jeans on.
“Someone has learned their American culture, MiMi.” Zoey galvanized as a smirk played on her full lips.
“Anything for my maknae, ZoZo.” Rumi teased. She meant it though. She really learnt her way around how to dress American to impress her girlfriend.
“Suck up.” Mira intentionally pressed through a fake cough even though she would die for someone to be that dedicated towards her.
“Swallower.” Rumi retorted playfully, winking and sticking her tongue out, stifling a laugh.
Zoey curled her lips into themselves and squinted her eyes whilst raising both eyebrows, trying her absolute best to prevent her god awful wheeze locked behind her lungs.
“What time is it, baby?” The singer plainly asked, aimed at either of them as she pulled the jeans up to her waist.
Both looking down at their phones in unison, Mira answered first, quickly as if it were a competition, “11:09, Ru.”
“Fuck we really do need to make a move.” Rumi begin, pacing her way to the kitchen to make a quick snack before probably getting obliterated by the other two in a game of fake cars. “Zoey booked for 12:15.”
“Why did you wake us up so late, dude?” Mira asked, exasperated and kind of annoyed at the maknae.
“I thought it would get you three out of bed quicker,” Zoey mumbled fast through a bated breath at the sudden, calm outburst. “Y’know. Like… to like…” She tried to form a coherent sentence, clearly showing how little of an excuse could be formed for her highly offensive act of allowing Mira a lie in.
“Dumbass.” Mira responded through a humoured laugh, her annoyance fully depleted.
Mira honestly loved seeing people stumble over their own words. Catching people in their lie fueled her more than she’d like to admit - Especially if it is from Zoey - Lord almighty does she tumble over herself.
“Can we seriously get in our boots, girls?” Rumi interjects, hopping on one leg, attempting to put on her pair of white converse.
“How much more American can you get there, my love?” The rapper scoffed playfully, yet completely intrigued in her choice of clothing.
Something in the way Rumi’s body complimented her shirt does something dirty to Zoey’s completely corrupt mind. Her hips protruding through the still baggy shirt made the maknae’s knees weak. If they were alone together, she would bow to Rumi both in submission and her lack of ability to stand without breaking her water.
“This is just the tip of the iceberg, honey.” Rumi joked, finally sliding on her left shoe forcefully, her body tilting to the side with an equal amount of force.
“For sure, for sure.” Mira responded, not fully buying Rumi’s last remark, though her smile showed an odd sense of satisfaction with her half-assed humour and sass.
“Zoey, do you at least have lunch prepared?” The singer asked, her back turned to the two girls as she reached for her coat which was stupidly placed above all the others.
Her short frame can sometimes be a curse more than a cure in her mind.
“This fucking-” Rumi grunted, jumping with her arm fully out-stretcehd in attempt to unhook her coat. “Ugh!” She sighed, defeated.
“Here, let me get it for you, baby.”
Mira held her head high, confident with her 5’7, lanky figure.
Grabbing the coat with ease, Mira decided to tease Rumi even more, even if she was already on her last straw with everything.
Holding the sacred object just out of the singer’s reach, Mira sighed “Say please, please.” Her voice, full with sarcasm as if her saying that one word made her the perfect role model for her beloved girlfriend.
Her hand stretched to an uncomfortable extent, her fingers just grazing the zipper of the puffer, Rumi batted a playful glance in Mira’s direction. “Please.” Her reply, dry and unsatisfied with Mira’s cheekiness.
Mira lowered her arms, radiating with a playful smile from above the singer’s head. “Good girl, pretty face.” The dancer whispered through her smile, kneeling on her bare knee just to get level-headed with Rumi.
Reaching for the bag she had delicately filled, Zoey held the bag high and in front of her, “ Yep, lunch is fully packed, your heinest.” Zoey curtsied to Rumi, dipping her head slightly as if her purple-hair was royal enough to make her blue-blooded.
“Your heinest.” Mira repeated through a laugh, clearly humoured by the American’s dumbassery.
“Fucking hell, you’re awful, Zoey.” Rumi is equally as humoured as a chuckle escaped her clasped lips which ended up coming out as more of a fart sound.
“Eww, Rumi, that's disgusting.” Zoey exclaimed, rolling her eyes whilst also closing them, pinching her nose for added hyperbole.
“You can also grow up too, pookie.” Rumi retorted as she reached into her pockets for her keys to the apartment like Merry Poppins.
Zoey hates that name. Pookie. I mean who on Earth could ever enjoy getting called ‘pookie”?
The freckle-faced rapper’s eyes narrowed into a mock glower as if intimidating prey.
Yes, the smallest in the group is the most intimidating. Deal with it.
“Enough with the silent bickering, you two.” Mira stated proudly with her confident posture overlooking the two girls who looked more like squabbling chipmunks disagreeing over nothing.
“Save it for the go-karts, you embarrassing farts.” She extended as she shamelessly walked over to the locked door, ready to make her way to the competition of life and death.
“Don’t even try getting in the driver’s side, Mira.” Zoey spat out, her voice still full of love however.
“I wasn’t, I wasn’t.” Mira surrendered, high pitched.
Oh, did she want to try and get behind the wheel again. Even if it got between the promise both her and Zoey made last night on the way home from the arcade.
“I dibs front with my Zoey!” Rumi interfered, dashing through the door, sprinting to the rundown, half crimson, half silver civic, blowing the front door off its hinges as she dove into the seat, closing the door before locking it to seal her dibs.
Raising a finger to the pink-haired dancer, Rumi slyly said through the closed glass pane, “Middle fingahh” with a quick wink before turning her attention to her phone.
My Zoey 💞
Mira is pisssssed, baby! 😭😭😭
My Zoey 💞: ffs, babe. What did you do now ml?!
Nothing nothing I swrrr!
My Zoey 💞: RUUUUU!
Im telling the truthhhhh…
My Zoey 💞: Then why the ellipsis, cutie?
No reason.
My Zoey 💞: OMG RU WHAT DID YOU DO!
The back door swings open almost violently with a pouting Mira entering the back seat, crossing her arms over her chest in mock anger.
“Seatbelt, lovely.” Rumi nurtured as she pulled her own over her chest.
“We aren’t even driving yet, babe.” The dancer replied as she rolled her eyes to the heavens, deepening the force at which she crosses her arms.
Getting herself inside of the car, not even having to dip her head due to her small height, Zoey gave Rumi a snapped side eye through a squint still unconvinced that Rumi did ‘nothing’.
“Would you care to tell me what the flip is happening?” The maknae asked as she could feel the uninvited tension pulsing in the car.
“Someone’s sulking because they didn’t call shotgun faster.” The singer replied bluntly, her emotion seemingly unphased.
“Yeah well you also stuck your middle finger up at me through the window!" Mira pouted, huffing and puffing to herself about how unfair this situation was.
“Yeah yeah, well you also just can’t drive, babe-” Rumi teased.
“How is that even remotely related to this convo right now, Ru!?” Mira stabbed back, her annoyance now more true.
“Because it just is, beautiful.” She further prodded, her voice leaking with competitiveness diluted with love.
“Whatever, asshole. Just drive, Zoey.” Mira commanded, her voice low, and her chin meeting her chest as she averted her attention to her laboured breathing.
“Feisty one you are this morning, lovely.” Zoey joked, attempting to ease the tension with her shitty Yoda impression.
Mira is not impressed in the slightest.
“Yeah well you decided to wake us up last minute, Zo.” Mira retorts, licking her teeth with her mouth closed, “So you can’t be saying much.”
“I think it’s her time of the month, Zo.” Rumi sighed, her shoulders dropping loose as she mocked Mira’s posture whilst holding her head low.
“Zoey, I told you to drive, didn’t I?” Mira pushed further as her nails began to dig into her arm, indenting her pure skin.
“I’m trying, babe.” Zoey responds, adjusting her seat, “This stupid chair took a vacation to the fucking Maldives by looking at how far back you like to have your seats, Mir.” The maknae continues, turning the cog on the side of her chair to raise the backrest more forwards.
“Well… Then try harder.” The dancer bristled as she began to bite her nails instead of piercing herself.
“Lord, someone put this bitch on timeout.” The rapper grumbled under her breath as she jumpstarted the car.
“DRIVE” Mira lost her plot officially over another stupid middle finger she received from her beloved purple-haired dumbass.
“If you would rather walk, it’d be much more peaceful for me and Rumi, you brat!” Zoey attacked back, swerving her hips half way round to meet Mira’s gaze with an equally furious glare.
“Fine.”
One word and only one word was needed for Mira to de-escalate her unwanted emotions.
“Lord, this is meant to just be a date.” Rumi interfered, her eyes glassed with annoyance, “Why does something always have to kick off between us?”
“My bad, mom.” Mira responded sarcastically, overpronouncing the last word, even though Rumi was the perfect fit for a mother figure.
“Fucking impossible.” Rumi mumbled to herself, still keeping an eye on her furious lady-child through the mirror.
“Mira, how the hell do you even start this thing?” Zoey reprimanded, shooting her head up in annoyance.
“By starting it, babe.” The dancer replied smugly, “I thought that you believed I couldn’t drive, anyways.” She followed.
“You can’t.” Zoeyy responded as she put the gear stick in all 6 positions just to check, “That’s a given fact, my love.”
“Then how come I can even start the car?” Mira stabbed back with a neutral face as she fiddled with the loose strings on her old, beatdown jumper.
“Because you’re Mira.” Zoey exaggerated as she tries the gearstick again with more force.
“Come here, you idiot.” Mira crawled forward out of her seat, her seatbelt still around her torso, to jumpstart the car.
“I thought you got it running for a second, Zo?” Rumi questioned as she squinted her eyes trying to figure out this shitty machinery as well.
“I did-” Zoey began as she turned the key again for the fourth time, rotating her body with hyperbole at the same time.
“Until you didn’t.” Mira cut through, her hand now fully in the driver's side, stretched fully taut.
The dashboard lights flickered once, twice, then settled into a gentle glow. The engine hummed low, a reluctant purr that echoed through the crimson cabin. Mira’s fingers tightened on the wheel before releasing and flinging herself back into her seat. Zoey froze mid-twist as she snapped the key sideways one last time and jolted the gear stick back into neutral once more. The Civic finally awoke, alive. Barely.
“Tada!” Mira sang holding both arms in the air in a mini celebration, the barely cushioned seat creaking as she shifts her weight.
Zoey finally slumped back in her seat, a trickle of sweat running down her cheek as she let out a triumphant breath.
Rumi’s eyes widened as if the universe had finally agreed to their little madness.
“Fi-na-ly!” The singer sighed as her eyes still glistened, hearing the radio finally turning on.
“Now can you please drive us, Zo?” Mira complained again, back to her usual self.
“Well I did dibs doing it last night,” Zoey responded, fixing the mirror, making sure she could fully see Mira just in case she decides to act up, “so I kinda have to.”
Pulling her phone out, finally satisfied with everything, Rumi slumped back even more into her seat, adjusting the head pad to her height, “Alright.” She hummed, “Time to do fuckall.” Her voice overflowing with sass and relaxation, knowing this wouldn’t be a calm drive.
“Im also going to do us a favour too, girls.” Zoey claims proudly as she adjusts her posture so she’s ‘fit to drive’
“Yeah? And what might that be, babe?” Rumi probed, momentarily looking away from her phone, flicking the loose hair out of her face.
“I’m going to get us to the right place...” Zoey started, pausing for dramatic effect, “First try.” The maknae concluded, rolling doubt off her shoulders.
“Asshole.” Mira whispered into her chest, biting her tongue in the process.
“Heard that, babe.” The rapper stated calmly as she rolled the car out of the parking lot, taking a soft right turn to bring them and the car back into the light.
“Yeah, well I’m going to put Shelly in an out of reach place for you when we get back home.” Mira challenged, knowing how Zoey is beginning to show more affection to her new turtle friend than her girlfriends.
“You would not dare, Mira!” The maknae retorts quietly to herself in mock shock, slamming her open palm to her chest as she gets onto the main road.
“Oh I definitely would dare,” Mira said with a devilish smirk, one hand reaching across the array of seats in the back to unbuckle the plushie from the window seat.
Zoey’s eyes widened, her hands shooting off the wheel momentarily to stop Mira possibly ‘bruising’ the plushy or snatching it away from her. “Mira, don’t you dare! Shelly stays with me!”
Rumi let out a soft snicker from the front seat, leaning back with her arms crossed as she torqued her neck round to get in on the drama, clearly enjoying it.
“Oh no it doesn’t.” Mira further teased in a panto voice,
“Oh yes it does.” Zoey replied back, playing Mira’s game perfectly.
“Oh no it doesn’t.” Mira repeated, her smirk growing even wider.
“You only know that because I took you to see a panto in Manhattan!” Zoey answered back with a playful sneer.
“Hamiton isn’t the most panto panto to ever have pantoed.” Mira joked, bobbing her head up and down, left and right looking like an absolute idiot.
“Same difference, Mira.” Zoey says through a shrug as she simultaneously overtakes a car, jolting the car east and flinging Mira into the window.
“We ought to arrive in one piece, you American.” The dancer stabs back, glaring into the mirror, knowing Zoey will be looking straight into it.
Zoey just grinned into the rearview mirror. “One piece? Babe, we’re lucky if we arrive with four wheels.”
Mira leaned back in a sigh, one hand on her forehead in fake despair. “If we crash, make sure I wake up in hospital with Shelly in my arms.”
Zoey’s knuckles whitened on the wheel. “Touch her and you’re walking home.”
Mira groaned, tilting her head into the headrest, muttering nonsense about not making it. “At least Shelly’ll survive this madness, she’s your favourite anyways.”
“Zoey flicked her eyes to the mirror, shooting Mira a warning look, “You’re lucky she’s backseat surfing with you, dumbass.”
Rumi’s on her last hairs when it comes to retaining her laughter, pressing her lips together over her teeth and forcing her eyes shut behind her phone screen.
“Oh my lord, girls.” Rumi interjected through a blurted laugh, “Save this shit for the go-karts, you idiots.” She continues, scratching her forehead, trying to regulate the potential waves of laughter she usually filters through.
“How long is left anyways, Zo?” Mira asks, taking out her phone in the process to scroll mindlessly through the depths of social media.
“About ten, ish, more minutes, babe.” Zoey responds, moving her head back away from her screen and back to the road.
Mira’s eyes widened in shock. Actual shock this time. Her eyes must be deceiving her.
“WHY ON EARTH IS MY ENGINE REVVING A MEME NOW?” She reprimands, looking like she would gladly kill to get the answer. “I’m innocent, I swear!” She follows, remembering the back and forth tweeting during their arcade date not even 24 hours ago.
Rumi checks her twitter, having to get in on the drama she definitely started. Seeing she got tagged in 30 posts in the last 10 minutes alone, she couldn’t retain her curiosity and clicked on one of the posts.
The stupid GIF she made with Mira out of context has blown up all over the media and she wouldn’t be surprised if she saw a billboard with Mira rotating her hand over an imaginary motorbike handle.
“Oh my God, I am the world’s biggest asshole.” Rumi chokes through a deafening laugh.
“Maybe don’t show me how you stroke it, baby.” Zoey interferes, inviting herself into the conversation.
“LIKE I TOLD YOU, I’M LESBIAN! I’M DATING YOU BOTH!” Mira screamed with not so convincing anger, repeating herself from yesterday - as if their relationship isn’t 4 years old.
“This is what it sounds like to be a Kpop star who likes dick, my love.” The singer breathes out through a widening smile, seeing how the meme is still spreading like wildfire.
“I hope you start your period early.” The dancer sulked, slipping herself lower on the seat.
“Nooo, that means no demon pussy!” Zoey frantically responded in distraught, her brows furrowing.
“Asshole.” The half-demon muttered under her breath.
“Yes, that too!” Zoey complained even more, “No demon ass either!” Her gaze is more inside her mind than the road.
“I know right?” Mira responded to Zoey’s crashout with sarcasm, “End of the world for us as we know it.”
“It is!” The maknae shreeked just loud enough for Mira to hear her behind her. “I’m no longer going to be able to sleep at night.”
“You will.” Mira said plainly as she scrolled through TikTok this time, “You have Shelly to sleep with, remember?” She followed, pointing blindly to the strapped in plushie.
“You’re so unbelievable sometimes,” Zoey said through a laugh as she pulled into the driveway of the go-karting warehouse that she kindly rented out so they don’t have to interact with fans 24/7. “I love you though.” She concludes, her voice full to the brim with confidence and truth.
“I love you more, my little turtle,” Mira responds, her mood instantly brightens. Her eyes are more dough-like, her lips turn upwards and her teeth begin to show. “So so much. So much it hurts.”
“What about me, you two?” Rumi interjects, seemingly jealous of the intimacy she wasn’t part of.
“We love you so much too, Unnie,” The maknae replies, speaking for her and Mira, knowing she will always love their Rumi unconditionally.
Stopping Zoey from unclicking her seatbelt, Rumi begins to close the distance between her and the rapper, her lips inching closer and beginning to pucker. Her movements aren’t desperate but rather sentimental and loving.
As the two sets of full lips meet at an angle, Zoey’s hand finds Rumi’s waist, her small hands still finding a way to wrap perfectly around the singer’s curves. Both of the girls can feel each other’s breath on their upper lip as they sigh, contently, through their nose.
With growing regret, but with urgency to not miss their slot for their date, Zoey reluctantly pulls away - even though she wishes she could stay in that moment for a tad bit longer.
“Why did you pull away, my love?” Rumi asks, her voice, soft and affectionate with an underlying tone of concern,
“We’re going to miss our slot, baby,” Zoey puts simply, stroking her hand over Rumi’s cheek as her last sign of affection before shifting her focus to their date.
“I mean I was also kinda third wheeling that too…” Mira cuts in, making both Rumi and Zoey adjust their gaze to the towering Mira sitting in the back, her face flushed with jealousy.
“Yeah, well you also wished me an early period.” The singer put simply as she reached out to pat Mira on the bare skin on her thigh.
“Touché.” Mira responded, tapping Rumi’s hand gently, completing the touch.
“You sure you won’t overheat in that babe?” Zoey asks, turning her eyes towards Rumi, then downwards suggesting the thick material of Rumi’s shirt.
“Even if I do, it’s my favourite shirt I got given by my favourite people about my favourite band.” The singer lists, tapping her finger after every ‘favourite’ before tugging on the shirt to fully display the Meteora logo that got hidden by the way her curves tugged at the heavyweight cotton.
“Well then,” The maknae inputted, “I guess.” Kiss. “It is time” Kiss. “To kick.” Kiss “Some Mira.” Kiss, “Ass.” Kiss.
“I.” Kiss. “Think.” Kiss. “So.” Kiss. Rumi responded in nurturing retaliation.
Zoey turns around once more to meet Mira’s gaze before exiting the car, her cheeks somehow fractured with rose pink, “Make sure you drive in the right direction, babe.”
“Make sure not to sulk when I get first place, baby.” Mira answered back with a smirk riding her lips, “That also goes for you too, Unnie,”
Gasping in mock shock, Rumi’s hand flies to her chest as she jolts her head back, opening her eyes wider and dropping her jaw, “What do you mean? I’m the most hubble, caring-”
“Blah blah blah, save the details, babe.” Mira interrupted, finally opening her door to exit the car.
“You’ll see. You’re gunna get your ass whipped. Trust me” Rumi stabbed back, also stepping out of the vehicle, slamming the door shut behind her more forcefully than needed.
But, Lord, did she have a weak poker face. Completely and utterly unable to maintain an unreadable expression, her smile of excitement slips through the cracks of her lips painted red.
Practically clicking heels and skipping on beat to a song in her head, Zoey led the way to the warehouse, turning around every so often, making sure that the other two are keeping up with her pace despite their chatter.
“Et voila!” Zoey pronounced, her limbs flinging to her side in jazz hands as if the gargantuan, metal shack wasn’t a large enough giveaway that they have arrived.
“Damn, why is it so quiet too?” The singer questioned as she spun her body 360° with her head jerked up to the sky, taking in the surroundings.
“I rented it.” Zoey deadpanned as she opened the already slightly agape doors, revealing the absolute monster of a track the maknae has been able to buy for themselves for the day.
“Holy…” Mira began,
“Shit.” Rumi concluded.
“Babe, how did- when- huh?” MIra choked on her words, and for a moment her own saliva too. “How did you do this? No, why did you do this?” The dancer asked, correcting herself as she still struggled to form coherent sentences.
“Because I love you, that’s why, baby.” The rapper responds, clearly not phased by Mira’s short circuit - as if this isn’t the first time she has malfunctioned. It certainly won’t be the last time either.
“Babe.” Rumi said, her eyes still awestruck by the twists, turns, valleys and bumps of the rented track with only the workers in sight, “You’re. I love you so much, did you know that?” Rumi, too, is also unable to complete a sentence.
“I know that much already, my sunshine,” Zoey responds, wrapping her arms around the half-demon once again, completing the three way touch.
“How long do we have?” Mira asked cautiously, hoping for more than just-
“A couple hours.” Zoey replies, folding her head onto the singer’s shoulder, moving her weight forward, bringing them all inside one step at a time.
“That’s going to feel like five minutes. You know that, right?” Rumi interrogated as she looked down on the related maknae claiming her shoulder.
“Yeah, but that just means we would’ve had fun.” She shoots back, her voice muffled in Rumi’s hair - for once not plaited.
“Well, we better start moving then. Come on.” Mira rushed as she navigated her way to the changing rooms, seeing more and more of the neon-lit tracks.
Following her lead, also risking getting lost, Rumi and Zoey stayed a couple steps behind the eager dancer - her head snapping round corners, her legs bouncing with pride and determination and her arms moving up and down, yearning for the sight of the changing rooms.
“You realise the workers have the gear already set out, babe?” Zoey eventually revealed after 5 minutes of indulging in the dancer’s spirits.
“Where, where? I need answers” Mira responded immediately, her voice leaving no room for reasoning, only room for one word answers. Physical sweat was dripping off from her forehead only from her naive and not needed adventure.
“At the entrance” Zoey responded in faux annoyance, yet her inability to control her laughter sells her lie.
“Which entrance? Where’s the entrance?” Mira commanded through a full sprint, her voice jumping up and down with each step.
“Well I’m gunna take an educated guess, but I’d say it’s where we entered, babe.” Zoey teased, tapping her finger on her chin in ‘deep thought’.
“That’s like thirty miles away though, ugh!” Mira whined, throwing her head back in fake huffs as her fingers tangled in her pigtails.
“I can see the entrance though-” Rumi deadpanned, her face emotionless as she pointed in confusion with Mira’s remark, clearly not understanding sarcasm all that well.
“Yeah but, like.” Mira attempted to force a sentence out through her breathless lungs. Her hands struck her kneecaps, bent over trying to regain her original breathing pace.
“Can we please just hurry up?” Rumi urged, swinging her hands in her general direction, trying to get the other two to actually move.
Mira straightened up slowly, her breathing still rigid and rough around the edges as she felt burning stabs in her throat where it had dried. Her chest rose and fell like she'd just run a marathon she didn’t train for. Their laughter kept echoing and ricocheting off the metal beams holding up the warehouse - too loud, too alive - and she couldn’t help but smile to herself, licking her lips moist as she did so, through the exhaustion.
Zoey was already a few strides ahead. Her tight buns not daring to move with each heavy step. Rumi was even further forward. Her weighted shirt pulling her shoulders low yet she still smiles through it, finding the sensation a calming stimuli.
All the noises, teasing and the multitude of near-catastrophes, this was all theirs - the kind of chaos that made her feel grounded. Alive. Content.
“Wait up for me, losers!” Mira exclaimed through a hitched breath, her voice low as she held back a hiccup.
“Gotta catch up, baby.” Zoey smirked, her grin wide, reaching past her ears as she bared her teeth, her tongue protruding them.
“I’m literally the fastest out of all of us.” Mira exasperated as she straightened her posture, fixed her clothes and began to make her way to the entrance as well.
As Mira pushes past the last of her breathlessness, the warehouse’s side door rolls open with a groan - and the sharp smell of gasoline and warm tires slips out, greeting them like an old friend at a class reunion.
Zoey’s smirk only grows as she steps inside, heading straight for the row of dented lockers, with scratched off neon numbers on the side of them. As they all open their individual ones (Zoey picked locker 67), they were all greeted with a putrid, foul smell of sweat and grease.
“Fastest, huh?” Zoey challenged as she pinched her nose, “Sureee… And I’m the Queen of Denmark.” The maknae bantered.
Rumi drifts in behind them, fingertips brushing the shelves lined with the helmets. “Can we argue after we pick the colours? I’m taking purple, of course. No fighting me on it.”
Zoey immediately reaches for the neon purple helmet, successfully snatching it from the half-demon’s grip.
“Fuck’s sake, Zo!” Rumi exclaimed, grunting ungodly thoughts to herself, “You’re actually such a Goddamn child, did you know that?”
Rumi then scanned the shelf to find another colour she likes. “Blue works I guess.” She hummed to herself, outstretching her arm to feel half-blindly for the sky coloured helmet.
“I’ll be taking that one, thank you very much, baby.” Mira said behind the singer’s shoulders, her hands reaching the cranium protector before Rumi, tossing it in the air as a declaration of ownership.
“Mother fucker!” The half-demon hissed, her patterns glowing a dull purple.
“No need to bite, Unnie.” Mira joked as she began to toss and spin the helmet again.
Rumi’s eyes snapped into a stare, a joking one of course, still, it scared the shit out of Mira.
The dancer apologised as she stared at the granite floor, “Sorry,”
“Why is there only a really crappy pink one left- Girlsss!” The singer pouted, holding the helmet whilst turning it with a confused look on her face.
“At least we will know if she went missing.” Mira deadpanned, putting the helmet strap under her chin, clicking it in place.
Knocking on Rumi’s helmet three times for good measure, the dancer made her way to the workers who were waiting patiently outside of the changing rooms, ready to tell the three the instructions they had to follow.
“Aren’t you coming, Ru?” Zoey questioned as she stared back at the unsure singer who’s contemplating about wearing a barbie coloured bit of plastic to protect her head from Mira’s ass driving specifially.
“Y-yeah, just give me five. I’ll be out in a minute,” Rumi replied as she reluctantly put the padding to her purple hair, “you go without me.”
Walking out of the room as instructed, Zoey told the team about Rumi’s unease about wearing a stupid coloured helmet - more concerned about looking cool than being safe.
“We only have so much time, Rumi.” Mira urged, barging back into the misty room, "Hurry up, please.”
“Okay, okay. I’m ready.” Rumi responded, her head jerking up as she rose off the wooden bench held up on its last legs.
“Thank you.” Mira sighed, relief dripping off her tongue as she motioned the singer back to the starting area where Zoey and the instructors were waiting.
Rushing out of the room and attempting miserably to attach the helmet strap under her chin, Rumi finally reunited with her precious Zoey. Her big, dough eyes staring back at her as her freckled cheeks perfectly caught the light. Although she was geared up, looking quite badass, God, did Rumi’s knees collapse.
“Damn.” Rumi said softly to herself, adjusting the shoulder padding on her gear as the first instructor went down on the basics.
“No bumping head on with each other, only from behind or the sides. Got it?” He asked, looking back at the three girls who already knew how long each of them would last without breaking that rule.
Mira squinted at Zoey as her lips curled in. A silent agreement running between them via some sort of bluetooth. Zoey smiled back. Slyly of course, because why would she smile with gratitude. At least as of right now.
“Okay, that was pretty much it for the basics, any questions?”
Shit. Neither Zoey or Mira were listening. Rumi was, however.
With a not so convincing smile, the two maniacs just curled their lips and shook their heads, knowing how many black flags they were about to recieve.
Rumi, on the other hand, had upmost confidence. Despite how much of a Barbie she looked right now, she knew the rules best out of the three.
“Lasty, don’t die out there,” The man continued, “Especially you, Zoey. We’re keeping an eye on you.” He joked, his eyes crinkled at the corners as he revealed his teeth in a wide grin.
“Anyways, you have all been assigned your own personal karts, props to Zoey.” The other worker just behind the instructor revealed.
Mira and Rumi turned their heads slowly, their gaze shortened to just a squint as they furrowed their eyes, knowing Zoey now has the full upper hand in the race, probably picking the kart with the most specs.
Zoey’s face, nor her gaze, faltered. Strictly looking back at the instructor rather than the tangible silence and palpable tension the other two radiated. She dared not to move her head and just kept looking forward at their personal instructors absentmindedly. From their faces, down to their badges and back up to meet their eyes again.
“Rumi you get the pink kart, Mira you get-”
“SERIOUSLY?” The dancer blurted out in a choked up scoff, looking between Zoey and the built man standing in front of them. “PINK? AGAIN?”
“It’s not really giving ‘Linkin Park’ now, is it, babe?” The dancer joked, staring down at Rumi’s thick beige, Meteora shirt.
“I mean it still does,” Rumi began, “Just not meteora. It still gives ‘From Zero’.” She explained, tugging at her shirt, covering her curves back up again.
“True, but now it just lacks the badassery you once possessed when you didn’t start to wear pink.” Mira teased further, her right eyebrow shooting up as a smirk dazzled on her red lips.
“It’s not like I chose to wear it, babe.” Rumi tried to explain, knowing full well that she might as well talk to a brick wall.
“You kinda did, my love.” Mira stabs back with a cracking smile as she pats her loose hairs down through the helmet.
“And, Mira, you will be in the black kart.” The instructor further reveals.
“You don’t mean the black one right at the back of the rest, do you?” The dancer challenged, her voice low in annoyance, connecting her mental bluetooth with Rumi now.
“He means the black one right at the back behind the rest, my love.” Zoey confirmed, patting the tallest on the shoulder in faux sympathy.
Mira just shakes her head and rolls her eyes, knowing better than giving the energetic maknae the one reaction she yearns for. “I’ll still be kicking ass, don’t you worry.”
“Not before you eat mine… and the hard shoulder’s.” Rumi attacked back, smiling with only one side of her mouth as she stood up, making her way to the relatively clean, yet stupid looking, go-kart.
“Whatever you say, little miss purple.” The dancer answered back, getting off her knees, working them out in the process by having to walk a 10k just to get to her makeshift car.
As the three girls found their allocated karts, they all got into formation behind the start line.
Rumi strategically took this small breath of time to calculate and map out the course, predicting the speed she needs at each turn, guesstimating how Mira and Zoey will react to the turns and abrupt changes in speed.
Zoey is kind of doing the same whilst also trying to strap Shelly in between herself, making sure it can’t be ejected from the car.
Mira on the other hand is processing the difference between the automatic in their rental car and the manual in the kart, making sure she remembers about having to change gears before she stalls or flies herself into the plethora of tires outlining the track.
The buzzes began as the time counted down from red to amber to green after a few seconds of delay for anticipation.
The hum of the engines, a constant vibration under their hands and through their seats. Tires squealed against the slick track and the neon-fluorescent lights bounced off their polished helmets - especially Rumi’s - casting shifting reflections across the walls. Mira gripped the wheel tighter, her knuckles whitening, feeling the tension coil in her chest like a loaded spring.
Zoey’s kart rocked gently with each small adjustment, looking down every so often to check if Shelly is still between her knees, her tongue peaked out in concentration, moistening her upper lip with her continuous licks.
Mira, still getting used to having to use her left hand whilst driving now, lead her to the back of the line, eventually letting her get lapped by the stubby rapper - zooming past her with a huge grin plastered on her lips, turning her head for a split second to meet the dancer’s.
Rumi’s eyes flicked over the twist and turns ahead, every calculation already stacked up and racing in tandem with the kart itself. The smell of warm rubber mixed with the humidity the trails of gasoline left behind them clung in the air, coagulating to produce an unpleasant aroma and feeling around them - intoxicating and sharp, mixing with the faint scent of adrenaline and laughter. Each racing heartbeat hammered in sync with the engines, a rhythm that was theirs alone, daring them forward.
Mira swerved, trying to correct for Zoey’s tiny, devilish nudge, and immediately betrayed every ounce of dignity she’d been clinging to. Tires screamed, rubbers left their mark on the waxed floor, and the kart came to a graceless halt in the soft embrace of a couple tires between her and a solid metal wall.
“Fuck-FUCK!” she yelled, hair plastered to her face and forehead with her own salted sweat as her eyes opened wide enough to swallow the track whole.
Rumi’s calm, calculating gaze met hers for a second as pride flourished her senses for her accurate predictions, internally thrusting her fist skywards. Told you, her thoughts whispered. Zoey took a glance, already at the opposite side of the track on her second lap, her tongue still protruding through her teeth, clearly triumphant at Mira’s downfall as a second grin, wider than the track, stuck to her face.
And for the dancer… well, she contemplated her life choices as the kart beeped mournfully, tires squeaking in shame.
“Imagne that, babe.” Zoey chuckled to Shelly, looking downwards momentarily whilst she changed her gears skillfully, slashing past Mira yet again, “Two down, three more to go. Not for Mira though.”
As the workers quickly manoeuvred her kart back into a drivable position, Mira’s gaze met the finish line and the finish line only. “Ready, bitches?” The dancer hummed to herself, putting the kart in gear yet again before putting pedal to the metal, concluding her first lap. “Locked and loaded mother fuckers,”
Rumi noticed this. She, too, was behind Zoey, being lapped 3-1-1, tying with Mira. “You cannot let her get the satisfaction of winning, Rumi!” She harshly told herself, deprecating her own spirits - ironically in spirit to destroy Mira and get that second place.
Mira’s kart kissed tires, walls and anything unfortunate enough to be in the way of her unerring accuracy, leaving a constellation of rubber streaks behind, the sound of her harsh turns still echoing around the neon-lit warehouse. She howled each time she scraped the paint, muttering self-incriminating oaths under her breaths, but stubbornly kept accelerating anyway.
Rumi wound through the chaos like a calm, calculating river, her eyes scanning each turn and her mind quietly noting where Mira would inevitably falter next.
Zoey on the other hand was everywhere and nowhere all at once - grinning madly as she carved the perfect lines through the track, Shelly secured between her lower body and the padded seat, leaving the others - only Rumi - scrambling to keep up (Mira was too far gone at this point to bother catching up).
“Time is running thin, you girls.” one of the workers announced through the intercom, edging them to come back to reality after driving, and crashing, for almost four hours straight.
“Damn, already?” Mira questioned herself fully knowing just how much longer than four hours this embarrassment has felt like.
“Seriously?” Rumi contemplated too as she breaked, hissing the tires across the ground, adjusting her speed for the upcoming hard shoulder.
“Light work, honestly.” The maknae whispered to Shelly as she concluded her final lap for the fifth race in a row, internally hoping the girls loved her little treat she had for them to conclude their last day before having to go back to Korea again.
Then it struck her.
It’s their last day here. Their very last day in America. And for it being Mira and Rumi’s first time there, she really prayed to the gods that they loved her for it. Praying she isn’t too much.
“Shit.” Zoey mumbled through a hitched breath, turning her car into the pod she found it in, unstrapping herself and the turtle plush before taking her helmet off and exiting the track.
Zoey set the plush down just out the reach of any karts coming in contact with it, especially Mira’s, as she brushed a strand of her now loose hair from her head. “Stupid helmet.”
She leant against one of the benches for a moment, chest still rising and falling, listening to the diminuendo of Rumi’s engine as she follows suit, getting into her pod, taking off her helmet before exiting the track, and also the clutter of Mira’s attempt to control her kart under even the slightest of speeds.
America felt smaller now, the warehouse suddenly quieted as Rumi closed the distance to Zoey, suddenly feeling just how quick the past month had gone.
“You okay, Zo?" Rumi asked reluctantly, seeing the gloss in the maknae's lost vision as she picked her nails in faint thought.
"Hm?” Zoey replied, her voice closed off but just about there for Rumi to hear that she's snapped out of her momentary reflection.
Zoey's lagged brain caught up with the singer's question, “Oh, yeah… yeah, I'm okay” , her voice bland and unconvincing.
Zoey can feel her heart begin to pump more blood, her breaths becoming more laboured and the full effect of her adrenaline wearing off. “Why does this have to come to an end, baby?" She asks, slowly moving her head upwards to meet Rumi’s frowned gaze, her eyebrows lowered but not furrowed.
“What do you mean, my love?" The singer asked as she closed the distance between her and the maknae, realizing the conflicting war happening on Zoey's mind.
“I mean this." The rapper said through mild frustration, waving her hands vaguely at what's around her, hoping Rumi will pick up the hint she means America and not just this moment in time.
Rumi's hand reached out to cup Zoey's cheek. Her mind swirled with thoughts she forced aside for Zoey’s sake. She knew exactly what Zoey meant - but denial stood between them like a wall, blocking the truth.
Zoey’s eyes flickered to Rumi’s outstretched hands, then away, refusing their warmth. She knew she needed them, knew she shouldn’t push them away, but something in her chest insisted on holding it all in herself. Her fingers twisted nervously, tracing patterns on her knees, her lips pressed tight as if to seal her feelings inside. Breathing shallow, but Rumi's hand met the maknae's. Not her cheek. Letting the comfort hover just out of reach, a quiet reassurance she couldn’t yet fully accept.
“No, Rumi." Zoey shuddered, blocking reassurance like it's the death of her. “Not right now. Not when I'm like this."
Rumi's hand hovered in the empty space between them, outstretched by choice, aching with the ghost of the contact Zoey usually welcomed. Every micro-gap felt like its own pulse, and she creased, sensing the still-open opportunity that would probably never be claimed.
“I said no, Rumi.” Zoey’s voice wavered, tight and brittle, the kind of refusal that carried weight beyond annoyance. Her chest tightened as she tried to swallow the ache coiling in her ribs, but her gaze refused the singer’s outstretched hand.
“Rumi… stop.” Her words broke, soft at first, then firm, a shatterable shield against the comfort hovering just out of reach. It wasn’t playfulness, it wasn’t defiance—it was the desperate, shaky insistence of someone trying to hold herself together before the edges came undone.
Zoey looked back down at the plush she held tightly to her stomach. Her fingers mindlessly flicking its flappers, feeling the sense of comfort she needed right now besides the comfort Rumi was offering, both wanted and restrained.
Rumi's hand slipped back into her jean pockets after untucking her shirt uncomfortably. “Whatever then, Zo. Be an ass." She dismissed, turning her weight abruptly, increasing her distance.
Rumi made her way to the black kart that was finally parked as Mira stepped out of it, oblivious to the palpable tension between the other two.
Zoey tightened her grip around the plush, almost digging her fingers into the individual seams as a last cry to have Rumi's hand return to her flourished cheek. The maknae's chest moved in double-rhythm, synced with her thoughts of not wanting the tension she created. Shaking her head softly as she looked down on herself, Zoey pushed her hips forward, releasing her back from the bench and making her way back to the car, refusing to get into the driver's side and waited patiently at the door to the back seat.
Turning back to see the purple helmet and black stray discarded carelessly on the floor and the immediate absence of warmth, Rumi made her way outside and saw the rapper leaning her back against the civic. The singer was just about able to make out the fact that Zoey was talking to herself and the plushy. Her hair blowing in the American breeze as her limbs trembled to the change in temperature, still honed into opening up to an inanimate turtle - doing more than what she gave to her own girlfriend. Her heartbeat quickened - It quickened sickeningly fast. Way too fast. “Fuck."
"Is everything okay, babe?” Mira asked, snapping the singer out of her mind, "And where's Zo? I swear she was just here.”
"Have a look for yourself.” Rumi commanded, drifting her eyes away from the shivering rapper, not able to look at her again without feeling guilt raging through her veins as her fingers flex at her sides, fighting the urge to move closer.
“Nonetheless we have to go now." Mira stated, patting the metal door, “Let's get out of these and get home. She needs time to herself, okay?" The dancer reassured, placing a hand on Rumi's shoulder, worsening the singer's mood, knowing that touch was what Zoey refused. Accepting it felt hypocritical.
“Okay." Rumi deadpanned, turning away from the reaching palm, taking off her boots and replacing it with her converse.
"I feel bad, y'know” Mira began, she, too, replacing her shoes. "I mean, Zoey paid for all of this. For us. And now look at her." Her voice cracking on the last couple notes as she blinked back inevitable tears.
“So much for a final day, am I right?" Rumi responded trying to lighten the mood whilst still showing signs that she understood where Mira was coming from. “But you know how much she hates change."
Rumi made her way out of the door and took out her phone, waiting up on Mira who was still hopping on one foot trying to get her shoe to cooperate with her.
Zoey, still leaning on the car, is in her own mind now, staring up from Shelly’s plastic eyes, squinting from the force of the breeze as she moves her head left and right, trying to fixate on something to cure her boredom. Nothing sticks.
“Hurry up, Mir." Rumi urges as she constantly flicks her gaze to and from Zoey, doubt still flickering in her mind. Her leg keeps shaking up and down rapidly as her tongue feels for nothingness between her teeth just trying to preoccupy her brain.
“I’m trying, Ru.” Mira responded, still struggling with her defiant shoe, losing balance every other second.
“Ugh, come here.” Rumi demanded, walking back into the warehouse, sitting Mira down on one of the benches as doing her shoes for her.
“There.” Rumi stood, already turning on her heel as she walked out of the shack for a second time. She glanced back only when she heard Mira jogging to catch up.
Mira looked back out the door again, still seeing Zoey looking into nothingness through a tight squint, her hand over her eyebrows. The wind tugging at her wrinkled clothes, her small frame shivering as she clutched the turtle even tighter, impatience starting to bleed through her trembling hands.
“I think it’s time to go home now,” The dancer confessed through a sigh, casting a quick glance at Rumi, guilt radiating off her. The dying look inside Zoey’s eyes was Mira’s weakness - she hated seeing anyone upset. But seeing that same look on the face of any of her girlfriends stirred something hotter, a quiet, helpless anger. She’d tear that tightness out of Zoey’s chest and carry it herself if she could.
Rumi’s face stiffened at the hunch in Mira’s shoulders - that familiar posture of someone bracing to carry weight that isn’t theirs. The determined blaze in the dancer’s eyes only made it clearer: Mira wanted to take every ugly feeling and shoulder it herself, even knowing she couldn’t.
The pair made their way slowly to the car - where Zoey should be standing at the driver’s side, a cocky grin already in place, flipping them off with that shameless swagger she used whenever she reminded them she was the better driver. But she wasn’t.
She stood parallel to the seat behind the driver instead - the seat they both recognised instantly. The one she chose only when she needed to curl into herself. The one that meant she planned to fall apart quietly, out of sight, the moment the door shut.
“Finally.” Zoey said to herself, turning away from the two pairs of eyes reflecting the only sense of sympathy that she knew she needed but couldn’t stomach. She opened her door slowly, Shelly still in her grasp - the only ground she had to step on right now. The floor beneath her feet felt like plasticine.
Slamming the door behind her and strapping herself in, Zoey’s gaze never left her lower half, let alone crossing paths with Rumi or Mira’s.
“Why aren’t you driving back, babe?” Mira asked, attempting to start up a normal conversation again instead of letting the silence take control. “You literally dibs yesterday-”
“Because I don’t want to anymore, my love.” Zoey responded quicker than Mira could finish, lowering her face even more into the turtle’s belly.
“Alright, alright.” The dancer surrendered, lowering her gaze to her phone as Rumi took the steering wheel. “Just… you know you can talk to us right?” She tried to comfort, leaning against the centre console to reach her hand to meet Zoey’s knee.
“I just need some me time right now.” The rapper responded as more of a statement than a request, wavering how tightly she held Shelly in the process.
“That’s okay, my love.” Mira accepted as Rumi made the way to the exit of the empty parking lot, turning her head towards the metal building as a silent last goodbye.
Mira still nodded to herself reluctantly as she felt her throat cave in on itself, the airflow burning the insides of her lungs if she took a deep enough breath. Her hand, slowly withdrawing from the maknae’s kneecap, her fingers twitching like they have a mind of their own as the dancer forces a smile Zoey would never see as she coughed the hot sensation further down her gullet.
Zoey looked down at Shelly again, still refusing to allow small talk to fill the vehicle. Babbling to herself through the turtle’s hatched skin, Rumi was vaguely able to make out a couple words her girlfriend said to herself too loudly.
Zoey mindlessly uttered softly to Shelly, “Did I ask for too much of them?” Rumi began to churn, silently shifting her weight uncomfortably in the seat, still vaguely keeping her eyes on the road whilst her mind stayed vacant. She wanted to reach out, but even the softest of touches could withdraw Zoey even further into her damned mind.
The singer began to tap on the wheel unconsciously to a nameless beat with each hammer serving as another wall stacking up in her mind as a last resort to distract herself from her own growing discomfort.
The drive home felt double the length to say the least as the silence travelled with them into the studio with the loudest noise being the softly shut door behind the dancer.
“Are you ready to talk yet?” Mira asked with caution as she had second thoughts to withdraw from saying anything.
“I-... Do you girls think you had a long enough time here?” Zoey responded, dropping the plush from her lips and onto the couch she planned to nestle into for a while.
“Yes, of course we do.” The singer got down to Zoey’s level, taking her hand in hand, pecking a kiss onto each of Zoey's knuckles. “Right, Mir?”
“Right.” Mira agreed as she made her way to the coffee stained cushion to the left of the rapper.
“Gosh why did this month go by so fast?” The maknae pouted, pushing Shelly into her face and softly screaming into it.
This made Mira’s heart sink even more than it already has. She always feels like she’s to blame for someone else’s misery. That pain has always existed. Even after leaving her family behind to pursue the one thing that gave her hope.
“It’s because we all had so much fun, baby.” Mira reassured, putting a gentle hand on Zoey’s vibrating shoulder.
Zoey’s shoulders began to relax as she felt a wave of warmth and unconditional comfort enter her lungs. For a small moment, she was at peace. This was a rare moment for the other two to see. Especially at such a moment which Zoey almost never handles well.
“That’s it, my love. That’s it.” Rumi said, her voice, gentle and understanding, as if this is her thousandth time she’s had to relive this type of experience with the rapper.
“Here, why don’t you have an earlier night tonight, okay?” Mira nurtured, her hand unconsciously rubbing lazy circles on Zoey’s back.
The tension in the rapper’s muscles began to subside. Her arms stopped shaking as she loosened her grip on the plush, turning her body to meet Mira and Rumi again. Her cheeks were painted a painfully raw red from the tears still attempting to dry and her eyes were outlined in an even harsher shade.
“Let’s get you to bed, my love. You need it after working your ass off for us for this beautiful last day.” Rumi whispered as she extended her legs back up from her former kneeling stance, dusting her jeans off with the back of her hand before using them for Zoey to personally squeeze.
Zoey nodded. Not a sarcastic nod. More of an exhausted one. One that admitted defeat after battle. Her eyes began to droop as her cries turned into soft hiccups allowing her body to finally slacken and tire.
“That’s my good girl,” Mira complimented subconsciously, her body also dismissing itself from the couch to give Zoey the full nurturing experience she needs right now.
“Thank you, girls.” Zoey murmured into Rumi’s arm as she began to cough away new tears, wiping the residue on the singer’s sleeve.
“No need to thank us, my love. We are doing this because we love and appreciate you.” Mira concluded, even her voice raised a notch, her guilt seething through her teeth.
“I love you two so much.” Zoey claimed, nuzzling herself closer to Rumi’s embrace, her arm curling perfectly around the singer’s bicep.
“Look at our little princess, Mir.” Rumi hummed, her smile growing wider and more content as her eyes crinkle at the corners. “Isn’t she just so perfect and loving?” The singer teased as she scruffed the maknae’s hair gently before pressing a kiss to her crown.
“She sure is, my baby.” Mira confessed, getting down on her knee gently, pushing away the now messy hair from Zoey’s face. “And this derpy perfection is all ours, Ru.”
Mira pinched both of the rapper’s puffed cheeks in admiration, moving them up and down as Zoey’s shell cracked and a wild grin played at her moving lips as she squinted her eyes in reaction to the Mira attack.
Giggling uncontrollably, her shoulders shaking now with joy, Zoey attempts to grab Shelly off of the couch to bring to her lips in a gentle kiss. A soft tease she always did in front of the other two with the abundance of teddies she has.
The girls secretly adored this about her however. The way she showed utmost care for her ‘precious angels’ and never hurting them as if they were human. The way Mira swoons to this every time is disgustingly cute. The way her face scrunches in on itself and her eyes shut abruptly to stop flowing tears of overwhelming joy always gave Zoey a reason to do it just one more time.
“Okay my cutie pie, it is time to sleep now.” Mira said, breaking the comforting silence that filled the air like a soft humidity.
“Good night, my baby girls.” Zoey cheered, her cheeks splattered in blotches of red. Her scrunching forehead only gives the other two another beautiful reason to love her more.
“Sleep well, honey.” Rumi kissed her goodnight - the soft type of kiss that only she received from Rumi and no one else. The only special treatment Zoey ever wanted.
“You too, my princesses…” Zoey replied, yet again her facade faltering since this will be the last time she speaks to them before the big day dawning on them three. Not even 12 hours away now. “I’ll see you tomorrow.” The maknae cracked through a cough, swishing back the burning sensation building in her throat.
As Zoey’s rough, staggering silhouette disappeared behind a closing door, Mira’s shoulders began to hunch forward, breathing out a silent sigh. “Lord, she’s going to be a fucking mess tomorrow,” The dancer foreshadowed, leaning her head onto Rumi’s shoulder for support, feeling the small discrete rise and fall with each of Rumi’s breaths.
“I know. But that’s why we’re here for her though. We need to remember that.” The declaration of love truly was what fueled them to always help Zoey back on her feet. Every laugh, every smile, every sigh of relief they got out of her was always a win. It was always a reminder of their unconditional love Zoey was walking through without knowledge.
“I love her so much.” Mira added, her voice more calm now. Almost as if she’s learned from past experiences that the best thing she could possibly do right now is relax, “So fucking much.” The dancer stated further. Her head sprung off of the singer’s shoulders as she stretched and moaned from the relief in her tense joints, making her way to Rumi’s room where they’d spend the final night in America together - even though the honour should be Zoey’s.
There was an eerie silence in the rapper’s room. Her heavier breathing being the most prominent sound other than the passing cars, blearing and bibbing through her slightly agape windows, allowing the hammering rain to ricochet off of them.
Zoey, silently contemplating with herself next to her plethora of turtle plushies she has won throughout the vacation, just stared at the ceiling. Not in defeat. But rather in longing to just spend one more week with her girls in America.
Then she just let it flow.
She can’t hold it in anymore. The one feeling scratching at her back ever since the arcade date the day before.
She just can’t…. Remove it. Silence it. Destroy it. Give it one reason to just “Shut the fuck up, Zoey!”
Her chest began to heave, her eyes flowing with ease without any restraint. It’s the only time she would allow herself to ugly cry. When she was all alone with herself, her thoughts, and in this case, also with her plushies.
She’d always cling onto them like a lifeline. It gave her the chance to be irresponsible with her own health. Her yearning to talk with no-one because she knew that she won’t get a response back.
She knows she can’t stay like this for the rest of the night. How fucking stupid would that be? Being too much yet again for her girls just so they’d wake up and nurture her.
The thoughts tightened a knot in her throat, casting her to breathe in just one dial too sharp. So she tries again. Labouring her own breath just for her own mind’s satisfaction. Playing her own subconscious actions like a game tutorial she made for herself for specific times like these.
“Okay, Zoey. In for three seconds.”
1…
2…
3…
“And out for three.”
1…
2…
3…
“Your knee needs to click too.” Her mind ordered, despite her not feeling the need to click it again.
But she flings her leg outwards nonetheless. A small click expelled from her joint, through her skin and radiated in the air as if it were something bad. Because it always had to be something bad if it was Zoey doing this.
Her hands began to paint spots, rings, circles and squared repeatedly on her bed sheet, her eyes disassociating so she solely kept her mind on the repetitive tingling the fabric caused as it continuously abraded her tender skin. “Keep grounding yourself.”
Every other breath she released she would decide to hold it for a couple seconds, swallowing it back down her throat just to breathe it out a second later. Her thumb began to tap on her palms, “One, two, three… again.” She had to complete this loop to not throw herself through a window.
Clicking her wrist joint like it was her last lifeline, the rapper came back to earth. Her vision, more fogged than her mind now.
Her hand began to slow down, releasing the satin fabric she intertwined between her fingers as she began to breathe on her own without her mind getting in the way.
Her shoulders shuddering uncontrollably, rolling off her own self-deprecation as her body slowly began to feel more at peace in its own war.
She refused to wipe her tears as her eyes flutter shut, enduring the pain still heavy in her chest, and enduring the sound passing outside, slightly dampened by the rain that’s more like hail now. “Goodnight, Shelly.” She said weakly, her voice trailing off, barely able to finish the last syllable before drifting off into her hypnotic sleep.
Waking up to the cold, morning glow refracting through her dusky window, Zoey's eyes open even though she's demanding they don't.
"Time to go home, lovely" she says to Shelly, her eyes still raw and sticky from dried tears from hours prior. She breathed the word 'home'. Her pain restraining her from accepting the paved flaws reality has to offer. Time has to end if it has a beginning
As if the plush can respond, Zoey continues "No silly," she sniffles, truly feeling something she doesn't want to feel in the back of her throat, "this isn't home, Seoul is, darling."
A hug. A single hug is all she needs. Not a human one, but one between her and some fabric plumped up by foam.
"Let's say goodbye, yeah?" She asks softly, her small, freckle-painted hands jitter unconsciously as she begins stroking the fluff on the top of the turtle's flapper, indulging in the last feeling of America she has left. She knows it has to come to a halt, she will lose this moment. But the inevitable won't change.
Humming with a cry that wobbles her tone, she sniffs the turtle for one last time. The scent of home she'll miss for a while, the scent of home she doesn't want to leave, the scent of home she longs to keep. The faint perfume of the girls on the underside of his belly resonates in her lungs. Oh the bitter-sweetness of love. Such a bitch.
"Why do good times end, kiddo?" Zoey's voice shattered, cracking and gnawing the back of her throat as the words burned coming out her mouth. But it's all she has left. She has to turn back to real life. Away from the dashing cars that whip past their small apartment complex they rented for the last week. Away from their human life. Away from the only other thing that kept her content enough to not break in front of them. "Fuck, Zoey. Stay strong for them, okay?" She muttered to herself.
"I don't know either, man..." She adds reluctantly, her own flow of dialogue drawn into her mind, "I do not know." She draws through trembling lips to no-one, knowing she habitually discourages herself from yearning a true answer. It's not healthy. But it's who she is. And she hates that most about herself.
Fuck does she just want to cry. Wage war on herself, shoot daggers at Mira and Rumi just so they'd push back and say they're not leaving yet... just one more day. She knows she shouldn't want that. But god, she does. She needs it more than she needs herself right now. And she knows the only thing they'll push back is her own conflict - they'll step their foot down. They'll make her leave. "I fucking hate them right now." She whispered to Shelly.
As nostalgia hits. Her brain fogs her emotions. Cry-laughing through harsh breaths. Her chest jolts outwards as she swallows her spit time and time again. Her mind raced back only to a couple days ago. Back at the arcade. Back with the Shelly she's still holding onto. Back into the arms she calls home after America. She's still with her girls. But she doesn't know that right now. She can't think straight. Fuck, as if she ever does.