Archive of Our Own

Zoey’s cries of uncertainty wavered through the thin walls of the apartment in the early morning. Any noise louder than breathing could be heard from the room in the opposite end of the studio. Her breath hitching after every sob as her eyes ran out of tears to fall.

Mira heard all of it. From the crying, to the way Zoey talked to Shelly as if she was hearing a response from him. Fucking hell did this kill Mira’s insides to something indescribable. The way the burning sensation in the dancer’s lungs embed itself into her very skin. 

“Zo?” Mira grumbled through her warm morning breath, scratching her eyes open in the process.

Zoey kept babbling to herself and Shelly as if the dancer didn’t just walk in. She’s too deep in her own world.

“Babe, look at me please.” Mira softly commanded, her hand reaching for the maknae’s chin, lifting it up carefully. 

She inevitably saw the tear-stained cheeks and the rough outlines circling her eyelids as her face reddened from the lack of sleep.

“Hey, it’s okay. I’m here now, my baby,” The dancer nurtured in a gentle voice, her left hand caressing her right cheek, rubbing the salt of her tears back into her skin. “Hug?” Mira offered, her arms momentarily releasing from Zoey’s grasp to hold a stronger yet more gentle one.

“Yes please, Mira.” Zoey surrendered, her face plunging into the dancer’s cleavage, her arms around her back, tugging hard enough to eventually leave a red arm print. Her legs also folded around her torso. This was Mira’s favourite part. This move was routine and grounding for the maknae. At least it shows she’s almost back to earth.

“There’s my perfect Zoey,” Mira cooed softly into the rapper’s ear, her breath merely stroking the rapper’s ear, “You’re okay, baby.”

“I don’t wanna leave just yet.” Zoey explained, her voice muffled, intertwining with the dancer’s hair as she inhaled her scent.

“We know, honey. But we have to,” Mira said as she drew lazy patterns on Zoey’s back thickened by tension and sweat.

“But I don’t want to.” She huffed again, her breathing becoming more rigid as if she’s about to explode into another sort of mental attack, “It hurts to leave, Mira.” Zoey further stated, her hands beginning to shake, finding no grounding objects to grasp onto - she found Mira’s skin too porcelain to hold too tightly.

Mira completely crumbled at the confession she’s already heard forty times with different iterations. She knew how much Zoey found America to be her true home despite her K-Pop status. God, did she just want to cancel everything they had coming to spend the rest of the year here just to see her maknae happy. It’s such a fucking tempting thought.

“I know it hurts, baby. I know.” Mira comforted. Her voice, too, began to break as she folded herself into Zoey’s shoulder, seasoning her in peppered kisses. “How about…” As the thought sprung to mind, Zoey’s gaze immediately focused back to reality instead of behind a wall she couldn’t see, 

“How about we bring Shelly and Michaelangelo onto the plane? Then, you’ll have your babies and at the same time they’re also not separate, yeah?” Mira put to the table, her voice full of reason and understanding of her precious turtle’s needs.

“Yeah.” Zoey replied, her voice more childlike as she pulled tighter into Mira’s curves. “That works for me.” 

“Now lets get your cute little face cleaned up and less irritated,” The dancer joked lightheartedly, completely releasing the tension in the room.

Zoey’s cries of uncertainty wavered through the thin walls of the apartment in the early morning. Any noise louder than breathing could be heard from the room in the opposite end of the studio. Her breath hitching after every sob as her eyes ran out of tears to fall.

Mira heard all of it. From the crying, to the way Zoey talked to Shelly as if she was hearing a response from him. Fucking hell did this kill Mira’s insides to unrecognition. The way the burning sensation in the dancer’s lungs embed itself into her very skin. 

“Zo?” Mira grumbled through her warm morning breath, scratching her eyes open in the process.

Zoey kept babbling to herself and Shelly as if the dancer didn’t just walk in. She’s too deep in her own world.

“Babe, look at me please.” Mira softly commanded, her hand reaching for the maknae’s chin, lifting it up carefully. 

She inevitably saw the tear-stained cheeks and the rough outlines circling her eyelids as her face reddened from the lack of sleep.

“Hey, it’s okay. I’m here now, my baby,” The dancer nurtured in a gentle voice, her left hand caressing her right cheek, rubbing the salt of her tears back into her skin. “Hug?” Mira offered, her arms momentarily releasing from Zoey’s grasp to hold a stronger yet more gentle one.

“Yes please, Mira.” Zoey surrendered, her face plunging into the dancer’s cleavage, her arms around her back, tugging hard enough to eventually leave a red arm print. Her legs also folded around her torso. This was Mira’s favourite part. This move was routine and grounding for the maknae. At least it shows she’s almost back to earth.

“There’s my perfect Zoey,” Mira cooed softly into the rapper’s ear, her breath merely stroking the rapper’s ear, “You’re okay, baby.”

“I don’t wanna leave just yet.” Zoey explained, her voice muffled, intertwining with the dancer’s hair as she inhaled her scent.

“We know, honey. But we have to,” Mira said as she drew lazy patterns on Zoey’s back thickened by tension and sweat.

“But I don’t want to.” She huffed again, her breathing becoming more rigid as if she’s about to explode into another sort of mental attack, “It hurts to leave, Mira.” Zoey further stated, her hands beginning to shake, finding no grounding objects to grasp onto - she found Mira’s skin too porcelain to hold too tightly.

Mira completely crumbled at the confession she’s already heard forty times with different iterations. She knew how much Zoey found America to be her true home despite her K-Pop status. God, did she just want to cancel everything they had coming to spend the rest of the year here just to see her maknae happy. It’s such a fucking tempting thought.

“I know it hurts, baby. I know.” Mira comforted. Her voice, too, began to break as she folded herself into Zoey’s shoulder, seasoning her in peppered kisses. “How about…” As the thought sprung to mind, Zoey’s gaze immediately focused back to reality instead of behind a wall she couldn’t see, 

“How about we bring Shelly and Michaelangelo onto the plane? Then, you’ll have your babies and at the same time they’re also not separate, yeah?” Mira put to the table, her voice full of reason and understanding of her precious turtle’s needs.

“Yeah.” Zoey replied, her voice more childlike as she pulled tighter into Mira’s curves. “That works for me.” 

“Now lets get your cute little face cleaned up and less irritated,” The dancer joked lightheartedly, completely releasing the tension in the room.

Rumi woke up to the commotion as soon as it started, but she knew her words were no match to Mira’s. She felt like kicking down her door at least three times as her running thoughts killed her to think that maybe she was the reason why Zoey felt like this. Maybe she was the reason for her breakdown the night before. Maybe she was the reason as to why Mira didn’t ever want her to help the rapper in the first place. 

“Morning pip-squeaks,” Rumi grumbled through a yawn, her arms shooting to the heavens in a God-sent stretch making her legs jitter, “What time is the flight again?” 

“It’s in about four ish hours, baby.” Mira replied, though not to her face, but rather to Zoey - too scared to keep her eyes off her.

“Aight. Everything’s packed, right?” The singer pushed, her voice light but urgent as she rustled to get her flying clothes on - A baggy and soft black jumper with white patterns streaking through the sleeves, loose joggers, a neck pillow and casual shoes.

“Yeah it should be,” The dancer said, stroking Zoey’s hair comfortingly, kissing her cheeks rose. 

“Yeah I packed the last of my stuff last night.” The rapper sighed, losing the distance between her and Mira’s touch, “I just need to get dressed, say goodbye to every room, collect Shelly and Mikey and then I should be good to go.” 

This was an obligation in her skull, if she didn’t complete these steps, she would’ve never fully said goodbye or fully accepted the fact she wouldn’t be back. Or at least for a while.

“You do that then, my love. We’ll get everything in the car in the meantime, okay?” 

Zoey nodded, her mind slowly finding ease in this moment of loss. She smiled as she retreated from the dancer’s arms, dusting herself off. 

“I’ll be five, my love.” Zoey stated, her hand patting the doorframe before she entered her bedroom.

“See you in a second, babe.” Mira responded, her body shuddered at the sense of relief.

Walking over to the disheveled Mira, Rumi's arms found the dancer’s torso, pulling her into her embrace. She could see through Mira. She knew she needed this after seeing Zoey collapse into her own black hole. “Come here, my love. Let's take five, okay?" Rumi offered as right arm left Mira's hip to signal to the front door to have a breather before wrapping it warmly around her again.

Mira's head softly bounces off and on the singer’s shoulder in a hug, her mind not really present as her eyes locked onto a nearby object, blurring her vision. Rumi noticed this too. The disassociation was blindingly obvious to her. She knows what it feels like. She knows it more than she likes to admit.

"It's okay… focus on my voice, Mira.” Rumi grounded, her voice subtle yet dripping with care and understanding. Her hands filed through the dancer’s pink wisps in her loose pigtails. "Don't be afraid. I'm here,” The singer further cooed into Mira's neck, her breath clinging onto her pores, daring to never leave.

Rumi could feel Mira beginning to grind her teeth. She's not even trying to hide it this time. “Baby, can you try something for me please?" The singer requested it as more of a statement than a question. 

“hm?" Mira grudged, her mind still elsewhere. 

“How many objects can you count in this room that is…blue?" Rumi asked, her mind also searching for these blue objects. 

“A couple probably," Mira dismissed, her mind sinking deeper into her point of no escape, 

“Cmon, baby. Please try. For me?" The singer prodded, still counting the objects. This isn't even new to Rumi anymore. It's just. Worse. Way worse. 

Not letting her gaze go, using only her peripheral vision, Mira's teeth stopped clicking and sliding as she spots a blue towel that is scuffed from Zoey using it everyday, "The towel hanging on the door frame next to your bedroom.” She deadpanned, she has no life behind her voice right now. It's scarily…gentle too.

"Good job baby,” Rumi praised, her lips upturning as she keeps her voice low and at bay, relieved that she's reeling Mira back to reality, "anything else, boo?” 

"Ummm,” The dancer hummed, her head bobs slowing down as she averted her gaze to the navy blue vase neatly sitting on the top shelf of a cabinet, "that vase over there seems pretty blue to me.” Her voice lifted at the end of that sentence. Her chin begins to dig into Rumi’s shoulder as she speaks. Her jaw resisting movement at every syllable.

Rumi's scrunching of the dancer’s hair began to find its pattern as she murmured softly into it “I saw that too, baby." Her hand wandered between her shoulders and waist repeatedly. “Do you think you can do something else for me?” She asked as her lips met Mira's shoulder, making it turn that one shade of hot pink. 

"Maybe,” Mira shrugged. Every movement Rumi could feel. From the rising of her chest, to the fragile tremble of the dancer's upper half "What are you tryna get me to do?” she asked, her chin briefly lifting off of the singer's shoulder, slowly tapping herself back into reality.

Rumi sighed knowing that what she was about to ask next will be a pain in the ass for Mira, “Are you able to stay super strong for Zoey today?” She asks, her voice dripping with hesitance because even that was a struggle for herself - let alone the girl she just brought back from a dissociating episode.

Mira’s shoulders drop even more than they already have, “As if I haven’t been doing that for the whole of this trip…” The dancer went for humour, but her voice betrayed her - thin, papery.

Rumi's throat dried at the half-assed response. Her brows furrow abruptly in hurt of Mira's stubbornness despite knowing her mental state right now. “I know how hard it's been for you… really,” the singer reaffirmed, adjusting her posture to fit Mira's better, "but I've also been going through all the emotions too. Especially in the last few days.” She opened up, her voice cracking into a whisper as she drew her lips closer to the dancer's neck.

Mira took a slow breath in, closing her eyes to hide their roll, "So?” She retorts quietly even though it follows through like a backhand to Rumi. 

Rumi loosened her grip, turning her face away from Mira's pulse point to look at her point blank. "What do you mean ‘so’?” Her words yearn for an actual response that she knows Mira will not give her the satisfaction of. 

"Okay, girls. I'm back and I think I'm ready now.” Zoey said, peeking through the corner of a wall, staring back at Rumi, seeing the direct and obvious hurt she's portraying.

Mira coughed back a tear, pushing the salvia back down her throat, "Yeah. Let's leave.” She commanded softly but loud enough for Zoey to hear whilst having her back turned to her.

“Have you packed everything, baby?” Rumi asked, turning her head towards the maknae as a smile played on her lips. 

As much as it seemed insignificant to Rumi, that one smile meant the world to Zoey. The way she always knows that she can rely on her girls during harsh times like these. She still has irritating rings around her eyes from when she cried earlier for all that matter. 

“Yeah, I’ve got everything packed, said goodbye to every room, I have Shelly, Shelldon, Mr Turtle and Gregory with me too.” She listed, pointing to each finger on her right hand as she ticked through all the needed requirements.

“Good girl,” The singer praised, her smile warming even more as she opened her arms to invite Zoey into the already loose hug she has wrapped around Mira. “I’m so proud of you for being able to do this on your own this time, my baby turtle” She further stated, enveloping her face in the rapper’s hair.

“Lord, I love this hug,” The rapper murmured, nestling herself right back onto Rumi’s other shoulder, letting her own shoulders relax as she presses Shelly between the two of them, “Let’s get going then, we’ll miss our flight.” She concludes, tapping Mira on the back and scrunching Rumi’s hair, having to go on her toes slightly from the height difference.

“Says Rumi,” Mira chuckled, her voice finally down to Earth and the humour finally back in her tone. 

“What? We will miss our flight, you dummy,” Rumi teased in faux defense, clasping her chest with an open palm whilst allowing a gasp to escape her lungs.

“We have six hours,” The dancer reasoned, lifting her head off of the singer’s body, stroking that same arm in the process.

“And?” Rumi pushed further, giving an eyebrow to Mira, turning into that one sassy version of herself that she knew full well pissed her off.

“Six hours we have, not six minutes, you sassy little thing.” Mira’s eyes finally left Rumi’s as she went to collect the rest of her luggage to bring to the living room - as she simultaneously made sure Zoey’s room was no longer stenched with that familiar smell of takis.

“Yeah, yeah. Same difference, babe.” Rumi deadpanned at a flick of a wrist, also turning away to move her luggage to their rental car. 

“That’s like the only comeback you know, Ru.” Mira joked, curling her lips in and shaking her head in mock disappointment. 

“Yeah, babe, it’s actually really sad.” Zoey joined in, interruptive, cutting Mira off from saying something more. 

“Really sad is an understatement, Zo.” The dancer teased, aimed at Rumi indirectly as her back stays turned to her, missing out on the singer’s daft reaction.

Despite taking the absolute piss out of her, Zoey closed her distance between Rumi before leaning her head on her cleavage, indicating a hug. It sucks ass how bad Rumi is at resisting her little American. 

Scrunching her face in a wide grin, her eyes fully squint, Zoey gently raises her right hand into a middle finger aimed at Mira. Rumi could feel the movement like it’s second nature to her. This has definitely been a routine for the rapper. A very common routine at that. 

“Stop it, Zoey.” Rumi huffed into the maknae’s tight buns in a dishumoured voice, clearly fed up.

“What?" Zoey squeaks in a crap attempt at sounding like the innocent flower. “I was just showing Mira my…appreciation." Her voice sells her even more.

“I'll shove my fist up your ass to show you my appreciation, darling." The dancer retaliated, a smirk growing on her makeup covered face, her lips through cracking the red lipstick she just applied. "Poof!” Mira explained as she motioned herself literally sticking her fist up and ass like an anal uppercut.

“"You're so gay sometimes, babe." Rumi chuckled under her breath, her face still smushed against Zoey's head as her fingers lazily combed through the maknae’s hair.

“Nah really? Didn’t realise I was, babe.” Mira shot back, leaning hard on the last word just to twist the knife of sarcasm.

“Oh, Ru, she’s like, gay gay,” Zoey teased, her arms digging into the singer’s side, still fully enveloped in their also very lesbian hug - Zoey’s hands inches away from Rumi’s ass and Rumi’s arm nudging Zoey’s tits intentionally.

“Can we actually start packing the car? I dunno why we didn’t do this last night either.” Mira’s voice seethes with momentary annoyance, using that anger to pick up three suitcases without crumpling over.

“I don't know. Can we?" Rumi pries, slowly releasing herself from Zoey’s possessive hold, yanking her own suitcase off the floor with not so much ease. 

"Can one get more slapstick than our lesbian?” Zoey asked herself too loudly on purpose, flicking her gaze to just snatch at Rumi's rolling eyes.

“Ask the lesbian, she might now!" The dancer shouts outside the door, her grip still strong on the magnitude of suitcases in her grasp, not caring to turn her head to face Zoey.

"Even your eyes roll in the shape of a rainbow.” Zoey prodded more, her distance diminishing between her and the singer - who's still trying to lift her luggage off the ground.

"Is this you coming out, baby girl?” The dancer tested, her body coming to a brief halt, positioning her ears to listen to Rumi’s crash out as clear as possible.

"Only for you two sexy beasts,” Rumi said seductively, her queerness peaking through her humour. 

“Cornball, cornball, cornball!" Zoey chanted through a devilish smile, pointing her fingers at the singer as she started to help Rumi pick up her luggage just to say she got close to her.

"Clingy, clingy, clingy!” Rumi stabs back in a comforting smile, silently thanking the maknae for helping with the luggage.

“Hurry up lovebirds, the car is waiting!" Mira shouts from across the hall, power walking her way back to retrieve more luggage.

“Ugh! Why do you always have to ruin everything?" Zoey pouted as she slumped her shoulders and ruined her posture for her usual ‘dramatic effect’.

“Ugh! Yes I do, drama queen." Mira responded in her usual not so usual deep voice still mimicking the maknae's ‘end of the world’ acting.

Rumi began to feel a smirk pull and tug at the corner of her lips, squinting her eyes in her best attempt to keep the emotion down - failing miserably.

“Rumi this is NOT a laughing matter! Stop smiling or you shall abscond yourself from this very room!" Zoey half-screeched half-whispered, her voice ever so slightly cracking at the end of her dramatic monologue.

“Abscond?" Rumi tried, her left eyebrow touching her hairline in an exaggerated lift, " We've talked about this, Miss Shakespeare. It's the twenty-first century." 

“Says the girl whose patterns glow in the dark during sex." Zoey huffed, her back arching more than is healthy, definitely realigning something that doesn't need realigning.

“Coming from the girl who finds it a turn on,” Rumi retaliated, her arms crossing over her cleavage, trying to make the maknae crumble under her own weight. 

Mira completely stops dead in her tracks, dropping a neck pillow on the floor, “Damn girl, you got some tits there.” The dancer swoons, air-honking the singer’s milk-makers. 

“Wait, how does this relate to Shakespeare at all?” Rumi asks, her brain finally coming to realise that Zoey just wanted to talk about sex. The usual.

“Unsex me here!” Zoey howled, lifting her arms up to the heavens, dropping everything she had in her grasp. 

“Nah. I'll have sex with you though." Zoey and Rumi slowly turned their heads to face the dancer, their heads tilting in unison in disbelief and shock. “I mean uhh… I was never here." Mira slowly backed away from the door, busying herself with packing the luggage again.

“I mean, you wouldn't say no to that, Zoey." Rumi reasoned as she finally began to walk out the apartment to help Mira with loading.

“Well…shut up, you don't know that." Zoey blurted through a hidden smile knowing full well she'd let Mira use her in any way if she just asked nicely enough.

“Oh, but I do, baby. I know all too well.” Rumi’s voice dropped low and seducing as if to pull Zoey into a trance into always abiding to anything the singer asks of her.

Zoey swallowed hard, nodding her head discreetly as her mind curled into itself, shutting down for a split second, completing a factory reset to flush out any emotions.

“Someone forgot how to human, didn’t they?” Rumi further teased, her voice laced with loving mockery despite the truthfulness behind her statement. Zoey truly was malfunctioning. It is the usual for her at this point anyways. 

Mira walked back into the apartment out of breath and brushed her hands together with sweat dripping from her pink roots. “Alright bitches, time to say goodbye to the apartment one more time.” She stated, her voice projecting with the harsh finality of their vacation. 

“Goodbye, apartment.” Zoey pouted, her emotions flashing back to how they were an hour ago. “Say goodbye, too, Shelly.” Zoey insists, waving one of the turtle’s flappers at the door of the house.

Noticing Zoey's emotional retreat, Mira puts one of her sweat-covered hands on the maknae's shoulder, “Are you sure you're okay, my love?" She asks tenderly, her hand now massaging closer to the base of her neck whilst pressing a kiss to her head.

Zoey's shoulders tense before they loosened slightly under her dancer’s touch. The kiss lingered a second longer than she thought it would. "Yeah, sorry.” The maknae whispered, her head tilting downwards, avoiding eye contact even though she knew she did nothing wrong. The safety in her voice wavers, uncertain of accepting Mira's unconditional nurture.

The piercing sound of the door scratching against old wood snaps the maknae back to the moment, her eyes darting upwards to meet Mira's radiating warmth. A smile grew on her lips. 

"The car is packed, girls. It's time to go to the airport.” Rumi states, her body reflecting how Mira's was a second ago. “Our flight got rescheduled too. We have four hours now." She followed, ripping the bandaid off a bit too violently for Zoey's liking.

“Since when, Ru?" Zoey demanded, her voice crescendoing with annoyance as she jolted her limbs skywards, allowing Mira’s grip on her to loosen.

"Since twenty minutes ago, Zo.” Rumi deadpanned, not picking up on her flipped mood nor the scowl forming on the maknae’s face.

Zoey licks her teeth behind her closed lips, pulling back from her usual crash out from the overwhelming thought of having to rush. “Fine. Let's get in the car then." She replies, her voice sounding like a broken record - scratched and worn out.

Mira put a subtle hand on the rapper’s upper back, caressing between her shoulder blades through her ragged shirt worn out from her restlessness the night before. “Come on then, turtle." The dancer cooed softly, her voice rich with warmth and the type of nurture she only shared with Zoey.

Leading the rapper out the door without dragging her along her feet, Mira began to make her way towards the barely functional rental they ‘borrowed’ from Zoey's mom. 

Rumi stayed in the hallway of the apartment just for a second longer, taking in the last scents of America she'll have to cherish for the time being. The stabbing hits of the alcohol she snuck in behind the girls’ backs to the original damp smell they had to endure for the last two weeks. "God I'm gunna fucking miss this.” She huffs to herself, bowing her head down to the Linkin Park suitcase in her grip. "Goodbye, apartment.” Rumi smiled to herself one last time before locking the door in front of her and turning away without another glance behind her back.

The tires of her suitcase squeak and squeal across the marbled- coated floor of the apartment complex. The rubber becomes warm and irritated, barely holding onto its own hinges as Rumi mindlessly tugs it along behind her, not caring where it leads her - as long as it brings her to Mira's feet. “Cmon you old bastard." The singer grunts behind closed teeth, using the last of her might to lift the luggage off the floor and back onto the gravel pavement.

The distant sound of those familiar footsteps and the usual clankiness of the dust-covered wheels catch Mira's ear, making her turn her head towards the sweating dancer in the dawn’s light. Soft. Maybe too soft. "You good?” Mira asked casually, her heaving chest giving away her exhaustion. Rumi just nods, her eyes briefly locking onto the dancer’s before striking the dirt beneath her feet.

Mira's hand taps the scratched crimson paint on the top of the car just above the driver's seat, her rings clashing against the metal with each beat. “What airport are we going to again, babe?" She asks honestly, not trying to force a conversation that isn't needed. 

Barely looking up from her shoes drenched in a mix of grey and brown, Rumi's voice came out staccato, “Hollywood Burbank.”

Mira's shoulders slump at the uninterested timbre of Rumi's voice, her face scrunching in empathy for the singer as she lowers her head and crashes heavily on the car seat on the passenger's side. 

Zoey's breathing became laboured at the lack of fix both Mira and Rumi were able to produce. Her mind begins to pace back to her parents’ house to where she was just a child and through the walls she could hear love dying.

The doors began to clutter shut around her, making time pass before she could realise she was living in it. Mira began to turn the key once. Twice. Three times before the engine finally showed a sign of life. A driving, growling pulse flared beneath the girls’ feet, vibrating the car’s body roughly, forcing Zoey back into clean air.

Rumi could finally lean her head back, her tangled plaits press against the headrest of the passenger seat, the fabric already peeling from overuse. Rumi could feel something inside her slip away as tires met rubble just as Mira slowly pulled out of the parking lot. 

The unresolved tension in the silence bared its teeth into Mira, making her grow weak from the lack of sound. “You okay?” she asks, not quite sure who she’s asking, just too desperate to spark life into a conversation.

Counting each bump as if it were the only heartbeat present, Rumi just turns her head towards her window, winding her arms further around her chest, clutching onto her blanket - which was ironically given to her by Mira. “Yeah, just tired, Mira.” the singer purred to herself, adjusting the covers through the seatbelt every other minute.

Zoey could feel each pebble being crushed beneath her as if they were her only symbol of hope being snatched from her very grasp. Her eyes shoot downwards as the numbness in her limbs begin to wear off, allowing her to feel Shelly squished between her thighs, looking up at her with the same eyes she was given when Mira won it for her at the arcade just the other day. “I love you, Mir.” She whispered mutedly, not wanting to ruin the silence she wanted to cut through.

Mira didn’t hear her.

Reversing the beatdown rental back into the hands of the rightful owner, Mira turned off its engine for the last time this vacation. The lights flicker in the car before dimming completely. “We’re at the airport, girls.” She hums softly, plunged in thick darkness. Rumi and Zoey barely breathed let alone respond - unbuckling the seatbelts, separating themselves from the car they used to joke, smile and love each other in. Now it’s just another fragment of the past. 

“You got all your turtles?" Rumi asks in a whisper, her throat too sore to produce noise. Zoey nods silently, opening her arms slightly to show her three plushies all together in her embrace.

Mira makes her way to the trunk of the car, flinging it open to reveal the staggered mess of their luggage - Zoey's turtle suitcases and bags to the left, discarded. Mira's luggage dead centre without much thought of what goes where and Rumi's crusting Meteora suitcase, the teeth of the zipper slightly agape where Rumi couldn't shut it all the way.

"Zoey, your stuff is on the left and Ru, yours is on the right.” Mira said softly, crouching slightly, using her legs as leverage to lift the suitcases out of the car. Zoey and Rumi soon followed - Zoey quicker than Rumi but both equally as slow to react, too tired from the night before and the early morning air.

Making her way round from the trunk, Rumi discretely nods to the man they rented the car from - a car that seemed more than just clunky metal on four barely functional wheels, but rather the one place that held more memories than words could describe. 

Rumi felt a small warmth caressing at her shoulder, Zoey's small hand that perfectly molds her figure. "Let's get to the airport, hon.” She softly demanded into the singer’s shoulder, her lips connecting with the base of Rumi's neck faster than it could disconnect.

Mira led the other two to the entrance of the airport without leaving room for discussion, her feet padding rhythmically on the cracking pavement, her heels clicking at every step. The unevenness of the floor abrading against the wheels of her suitcase, painting them grey.

Zoey could hear the constant change in pitch of the deep growl the suitcase radiated despite being many steps behind.

Rumi soon caught up, lagging behind from being unable to dislodge her suitcase from the tightness of the trunk. Her steps, sporadic and animated as she outstretched her hand to connect with Mira's upper back.

The sliding doors hissed behind them, and the terminal swallowed every echo of their heels and rolling suitcases. Lights flickered harshly against polished floors as a river of strangers pushed forward, dragging the girls along without asking.

Rumi adjusts the strap of the bag every second step, making sure to not let the zipper give way this time. Her eyes keep flicking to the maknae every so often too, her small arms possessive over her Shelly, her grip tight and unmoving. Mira's heels click at a matched pace with the group of people ahead of them, only focusing on getting past security instead of the girls staggering behind her.

The sliding of the conveyor belts mixed with the unnurtured clashing of the heavy flow of grey bins, crammed with shoes, rings and phones, drowned out any other ambient noises surrounding them. Screens start to beep and flare at every other person walking through the metal detectors and being pulled to the side to be searched. “Alright girls, you have everything you need in the bins?" Mira asks, her head too lazy to turn around and talk face to face with her girlfriends.

The girls' silent answer was enough for Mira as she began to walk through the metal detector without causing it to beep. "Come on baby, your turn.” She says to no one specifically despite the warmth and loving nature in her voice. The warm smile that played off her lips was enough for Rumi to crinkle the corner of her mouth in a silent smile back.

Zoey took her steps forward by instinct rather than command, her turtles still tucked behind closed arms as if they might set off the sirens above her rather than her clothing choices. The detector hummed, indifferent - glowing red for a split second too long before flicking green and letting her through.

Rumi noticed how Zoey clutched onto Shelly more tightly than normal. The crease in her shirt from the plush’s mold pressing firmly against her chest, fighting her bated breaths, causing her back to arch behind the bagginess of her clothes. But it's softer than it has been since the start of the morning. And that was enough for Rumi.

“Ru?" Mira simply asks, seeing the focus on the singer's drifting eyes. Tiredness circling her pupils - irritated and dry. Mira draws her attention to the lasting smirk on Rumi's lips however. The pureness of her canine in view where her lips part allowed Mira to breathe again. Even if it were just for a small while. 

Rumi doesn't respond. But to Mira, the way she rolls her shoulders back and takes her step through the machinery was just what she needed. The lights flicker green without flaring up the system.

Rumi casually walked over to the bin that was carelessly flung through the ribbed rollers passing the X-ray machine. Her digits curled round her phone, wallet and necklace like a life support. Though holding her head high, Mira could read the wave of spit crawling through her oesophagus - her larynx raising too much for it to be unnoticed.

Mira always knew her Rumi hates flying. The way her breathing waxes and wanes like a clueless moon just because the engines flick on. Her hands that would shake when the pilots jolted the plane to the runway vibrating independently from each other. The blurring vision that would turn black and white when she felt the weightlessness of her body as her back slams below the headrest of her seat. “Just breathe, Mira." The voice inside her head echoed, the sound half taunting and half sarcastic. That voice didn't care about her girls. It only cared about herself. It always did.

She always lets it win over herself. Not once did it creep in without holding her head into submission. "Hurry up, Ru. We’ll miss our flight if you keep holding us up.” She said through ice, turning her back to the singer, expecting nothing but compliance.

Rumi stares upwards briefly, her hands reaching her pockets to discard her phone and wallet, before locking her eyes to the floor again, thinking Mira is just playing about. Her shoes crack the marble beneath her as she quickens her pace to catch up to Mira who's always two steps ahead of her.

Zoey's feet patter behind Rumi, her hand raised in a wave, a smile widening on her face, believing Mira is challenging her to a race. ‘cus why would she ever think otherwise. She's way too innocent for this world. "Mira, wait up, cutie! I'm small!” She shouts despite now being closer to her than to Rumi. Shelly bounces in her arms, the head popping in and out of view in Zoey’s uncoordination.

Zoey's foot traps itself under her loosened shoelaces from bolting too fast. Rumi's digits instinctively twitch open, her arms pushing her forward to catch the American whilst her shoulders move in front of her own chest. Zoey grasp slips from her plushy, his soft shell thudding on the glossy floor - the motionless ball of fuzz somehow conveying more life than Mira's eyes shooting to the scene unfolding behind her.

The rapper’s arms met Mira's waist, clinging to them, her legs lagging behind. Rumi’s arms lose their motion as she swoops them below knee height to collect the turtle Zoey left behind her. “Here you go baby, maybe tie your shoes tighter, my love." Her voice lacking the venom Mira spat at her only seconds ago.

Zoey's teeth clench to her lower lip in a pure smile, accepting both her girls’ help. "Sorry ‘bout that, loves.” She hummed through her smile, her teeth barely separating from each other.

The airport announcement cuts through the moment, waiting its turn in a place built on hurry. Rumi's hand slipped from Zoey's before folding back over her suitcase handle, fingers curving around the splitting rubber handle just hard enough to paint her knuckles white. “I guess there's no turning back." She cracked through a cough unconfidently as she resisted against hope to push herself forward.

Rumi paced towards the terminal entrance faster than Mira could realise that she was lagging behind. Zoey on the other hand was in a full sprint towards the array of chairs with only three unoccupied seats waiting for them as if they were planted there by some God. “Now you're the one who has to hurry up babe," Rumi put bluntly, though her voice lacked any malice, only love could ever leave that mouth - or enter it.

The wheels on Mira's suitcase scratch at the granite-marble flooring beneath her, her steps attempting to match with Rumi's as they speed to the available seating area to await their flight to be called to board. “Only a little while longer now." She says to herself, trying to ground any uneasy emotions. “You feeling okay, Unnie?" She asks Rumi, knowing her history of flying from front to back.

Despite the smile drawing on her lips seeing Mira literally almost toppling head over heels for her, Rumi's eyes always met the digital tickets she's scrolling through on her phone hooked to a wireless charger. “Ru, please stop looking at them… let's play a game shall we?” Zoey interrupts. Her hands reached for the singer’s phone, covering the screen and pressing the off button simultaneously.

Mira finally finds her footing again before finding the seat next to Zoey. “Yeah, Ru, a game sounds fun." She encourages as she plasters an easing look on her face. 

As Zoey reaches into her fluffed out turtle bag, Rumi notices Mira's eyes. The way they never leave hers in moments like this. How deep she can stare into them without them losing their clarity. They’re perfection…honest perfection for Rumi. " Ahah! found some Uno cards!” Zoey announces, her arms waving with the Uno Wild cards in her small grip.

Seeing the unshuffled deck of cards scattered out in Zoey's hand, Mira puts her hands up in playful surrender knowing she can't shuffle, “Don't worry, Mira, I'm shuffling. Don't explode." Zoey commented as her digits perform a dance around the pieces of plastic, riffling the cards between each other.

Despite Zoey's previous warning and just out of pure instinct to wait for the shuffling to finish, Rumi's hands find her phone tucked back into her jogger’s pockets, flicking out around her fingers to an upright position. However, her arms felt the familiar warmth of Mira's hand. The skinniness and length of each finger tracing a pattern around the cuff of her shoulder grounds Rumi in that natural way. "No, baby… not right now okay?” Her voice lacks annoyance whilst being tipped with concern and unconditional love. 

The singer's eyes trace the flooring before drifting upwards to catch the caring tilt of Mira's head, her hair unravelled from its usual pigtails and hanging freely past her shoulders before stopping at her forearms. "Let's focus on the game okay, Unnie.” Mira smiles through her suggestion as her eyes caught the ridge of the singer’s nose between her eyes - her stare undemanding and soft.

Playing with the loose locks of purple caressing the soft features on Rumi's face, Mira's eyes never leave the singer’s. “Wanna know something beautiful, my love?" She asks with a soft whisper, louder than the background hum of Zoey's shuffling.

“What's that?" Rumi responds, her eyes flowing down her hair to meet Mira's hands, breaking the gaze she had going with her.

"Your hair.” The dancer puts simply, her fingers tying knots, lightly tugging Rumi's head to have her melt into the touch. "When it's down like this. I mean…” she cuts herself off, too indulged in the feeling of the individual strands she rolls between her fingers, "I love it. I love you.” Mira concludes, her eyes tracing the fineness of Rumi's face. God, does she just love her so fucking much.

Hearing Zoey smack the stack of cards on a free armchair like a judge slamming their gravel, Rumi's body comes to reality. Her senses expand out of just feeling Mira’s touch. "You girls ready to get shit on?” Zoey asks cockily though her eyes betray her, showing love veiled in competitiveness.

Discarding her phone on the edge of her seat like it’s an everyday object, Rumi demands distraction from the game as if it were a drug. “Your ass is going down, Miss America." Rumi announces triumphantly, knowing just how crap Zoey really is - ironically at all the Americanised games. 

Noticing the turtle covered phone case Rumi placed face up when throwing it to her side, Mira’s eyes slowly draw themselves towards the face off between the other two. The way Zoey never left Rumi’s gaze despite the clear distractions of the cards six inches away from her face. “I guess you guys decided to skip me for this round, how considerate of you.” Mira humoured softly, her chin silently begging to rest on Rumi’s shoulder.

As if being able to read minds, Rumi allows her shoulder to inch closer to Mira’s head, slowly lowering itself to inevitable comfort. “You’re so simple, MiMi.” Rumi chuckles quietly, her palm reaching carefully to stroke the outskirts of Mira’s jaw, just above a pouting lower lip. 

“I’m not simple,” the dancer responds, though her defence lacks any effort to go against Rumi’s point, knowing just how spot on she is with her judgement. “I’m just…” Mira began, her chin cuddling into the softness of Rumi’s shoulder lovingly, “predictable.” Her face tilting towards the calming hand to the left of her, her plated glasses tipping to the point of her nose. “You girls still forgot to add me to this game of Uno, I’m mad.” She tries to pry further even when her ‘madness’ was stated with such calmness. A soft calmness at that. She’s not a fucking lunatic.

The low hum of Zoey’s lack of control to contain laughter at her clinginess, catches the very blind eyes of Mira, “very mad.” Mira says into Rumi’s shoulder, dissolving her lips into a soft kiss through the comforting fabric. Her eyes never leave Zoey’s petite body. How she wishes she was kissing her right now was causing havoc inside the dancer’s mind. The fact she can feel the weightlessness of Zoey’s free-flowing hair, trailing down to the base of her shoulders, was crushing her internally. Though her eyes pulled a playful squint back at her, Zoey knew exactly how Mira was feeling right now. And fuck no she wasn’t going to give into it that easily. 

Placing down her +2 card to Rumi, making the singer swear under a hitched breath and pick up a +4 and a ‘you can’t go’ card in red, Zoey allowed her hands to wander through the abyss of her curly hair - itching and scratching at spots on her neck that weren’t irritated. 

“Why are you so mean to me!” Rumi puckered, her chin shivering in faux sadness, hoping Zoey would spoil her with kisses. “What did your beautiful unnie do to deserve a plus two, huh?” She interrogates cutely even when she could tell Zoey won’t crack, seeing she is too into that competitive zone. “I bet if I were Shelly you wouldn’t do that.” Rumi further points out, her mouth falling into a moue. 

Zoey covered the eyes of her fur covered turtle, making sure he didn’t catch anything from the ‘altercation’ including his name. “Don’t bring my baby into this, meanie!” The rapper flings back, her hand reaching down to the stack of cards, showing the black outline of her +4 card she has waiting for Rumi on a gold platter. 

Rumi’s lip folds out from her cry - turning into more of a smile. A fucking mischievous one. Slapping her hand onto the maknae’s, unable to wait her turn, nor wait for Zoey to pull back thinking she has destroyed her girlfriend to a pulp, Rumi’s hand unsheaths from the +4 she retorted with. “You just made me pick this one up too!” Her hands shooting to the sky triumphantly, nearly knocking the focused Mira on her shoulder out of the game she wasn’t even part of. “I choose the colour red… Unooo!” 

Zoey doesn't reach for the stack of cards beside the upturned mess both she and Rumi produced. They reach for her own fanned out cards. “Plus four, biatch!" 

Rumi's face drops instantly. " Miraaa!” The frown forming on the grown ass woman's lips struck Zoey's vision. "She's being a meanie again!" Her fingers pointing at Zoey, lips curled and cheeks flushed with a sound barely escaping her mouth.

The rapper felt more than two sets of eyes looking at Rumi. “Girl, shut up. People are staring! You'll blow our cover." Zoey hisses behind an open palm blocking her face.

"Coming from the person who I always had to tell the exact same thing to.” Mira puts simply through a natural smile, clearly amused by this three way dynamic after the previous silence between them. Even though the only reaction she got back was a batted eyelash, Mira still felt complete with her ‘international pissoff’ she swore to the girls she had to complete at least once if they ever go abroad.

Breaking the somewhat comfortable silence was the growls of Rumi as she tugs at her stomach - trying to itch away discomfort through the bagginess of her thick jumper. 

“Are you okay, RuRu?" Zoey asks as she switches to the not-so-heaven-sent protector. Rumi nods though her eyes are clenched shut and her whimpers of pain become more pronounced. “Period shit." Zoey responds, knowing that exact look Rumi has on her face. The exact ridges in her forehead, the way her eyebrows were fixed in a furrow and also the whiteness painted at the base of her lips where her teeth put a bit too much pressure on them, stretched thin. 

“Fucking called it. Your period came early, didn't it, our little ketchup pouch?" Mira humoured though still concentrated at healing what she knew she couldn't help. 

"Oh fuck… yeah, no demon pussy afterall, huh?" The maknae fires back, smirking at the blotchy idea of her teasing Rumi to the absolute limits about how sensitive she is during her time of the month. "Mira. Show her how you stroke it again.” She commands with mock power with the strong point of her pink painted nails.

"The fuck? hell no. We only just got past that mess, ass fingerer.” Mira fights back, an eyebrow raised higher than the three of them after a good session. 

"Yes you will,” The rapper further challenges.

"No.” Mira huffs back, fed up.

“Yes-" 

“No…" 

“Yes!" 

“No!" Mira's face starts to drown in hot pink.

"No,” Zoey responds, confusing the already brain-cell-less dancer who is hugging the struggling, pained singer tightly.

"Yes!” Mira responds sharply… “oh for fuck-"

“Haha! You agreed, dumbass!" Zoey's arms dart skywards in triumph. “I hope it's not blowing up anymore though, babe" 

“Oh it very much is, my love." Rumi replies over Zoey, still processing the annoyance in Mira. Rumi's eyes didn't even bother opening, just a dismissive raise of her eyebrows to show her upper eyelids.

Zoey’s eyes lift up at Rumi’s sudden confirmation, “Yeah, what Ru said, babe.” She continues as she lifts up her other leg to sit on them like a puppy waiting for orders. 

“I actually can’t with you, Rumi.” The pink-haired dancer grudged, her mind racing of vivid ideas of what their next shows will probably end up looking like just over one seemingly innocent tweet. Pinching the ridge between both her brown eyes, Mira let out an exaggerated exhale - she secretly loved the new lore that has been made for her by the two loves of her life.

“We can see that smirk, you dirty dawg,” Zoey teased after caving her chest inwards to suppress a laugh that would definitely draw more attention than she has already been able to gather. Rumi opens her eyes to a squint just so she can also have a peak at the curling of the dancer’s lips behind her palm. 

“I dunno what you’re talking about.” Mira deadpans, though her looks backfire her cold act, “I never smile.” She muttered after mock-seriously. 

As if summoned, the automated voice filing through countless boarding numbers and delay times landed on the three girls’ boarding number. And of course Zoey couldn’t keep her mouth shut at the beauty of the number they were given for their flight. “Terminal 67B opening for boarding.” The voice repeats for three measures, each time Zoey raises both hands to perform that specific hand gesture. “Rumi, I think we brought the wrong Zoey.” The dancer sighed, her hands rummaging through her sleeve before softly scruffing the fabric of Zoey’s jumper. “She’s acting like a six year old right now.”

“Nah more like a 6 7 year old, am I right am I right?” Zoey cracks through a bright laugh, her teeth showing more than Rumi’s silent amusement at the maknae’s shitty jokes which always seemed to soothe her nerves. Which is what she needs right now, having to fly for 8 hours back to Seoul. “Kaja kaja kaja!” The rapper belted to the other two, her legs already synced up to skip.

Not wanting the terminal to come into view, fighting against inevitability, Rumi’s jaw slowly became more defined as she gnawed against her own teeth. Her breathing was only there if you could see her chest rising against her loose shirt. As much as it pained Mira to realise that she was able to read Rumi way too much, she decided to restrict herself from helping the singer. She believes deep down Rumi hated her for it.

Opening her hand in front of the breaking singer, Mira’s voice came out more demanding than intended, “phone, please.” Rumi couldn’t even fight back. She could barely fight herself. With an unusual fluidity in her motions, the phone spun between the pinch Rumi had locked around it. “You shouldn’t look at the boarding passes right now, baby. Just hand the person at the front desk your passport. I’ll show them the boarding pass.” Mira carefully nurtured, making sure to not give too much away about how much she just wants to switch Rumi’s heart for hers at this given time, “I love you.”

The moment those three words blurt out of Mira's mouth, Rumi's head fell onto the dancer’s shoulder, her eyes still locked onto the forever skipping Zoey blazing ahead of them. “I love you too, baby.” Rumi's fleece-covered hand links into Mira's arm, tugging close, fearing the disconnect. “Thank you, my love." The singer sighs finally content. Her eyes close for longer than a blink as she savours the only feeling she wants to have right now - Mira's love.

Mira doesn't respond to Rumi's gratitude. Her hold just slowly wraps itself tighter around the half-demon. Her head drifts downwards to softly clatter against her girlfriend’s as they walk their way through the terminal. 

The two of them crawl their way towards the inevitable, seeing their Zoey patiently waiting for them as she wobbled between her toes and the ball of her feet, her teeth getting wrapped by her lips. Mira's hand reached back into her pocket where she slipped Rumi's phone into before unlocking it with ease, already knowing the password was just her and Zoey's birthdays merged into one long string of numbers. 

The glow on the screen illuminated the path ahead of them as if it's trying to raise Rumi's anxiety even more. “Just hang tight with us, baby," Mira stated softly, her voice commanding with her nurtured and gentle undertone. "Are you sure you have all your turtle friends, Zo?” The dancer suddenly urged quietly, changing the topic to something lighter to let Rumi breathe.

Already having Shelly forged into her jumper, making sure he stays warm, Zoey's hand points down to one of the larger turtle bags of the three she had for her hand-on luggage. Mira's head tilted to the floor slowly before any green was visible from her angle. She had to make sure Zoey did in fact get everything she needed. "Good girl, my baby turtle.” Mira cooed into the maknae's ear, even though she is a whole Rumi away from her.

“Have we all got our passports?" Rumi asks quietly, the restraint in her voice trying to distract her from sitting in a seat she's always despised for a whole six hours. She fans her hand out to reveal her own passport even if her movements were unwilling. 

With only a simple nod of heads, Mira and Zoey both show their passports in their hands. “We sure do, honey," The dancer affirms, her grip on the singer tightening by a slither - a promise to never let go. Her simple ‘you have me’ gesture that always has Rumi's emotions at bay. 

The line moves quicker than expected as one family after another flows through the final gates and security measures and onto the stairs of the plain entrance, Mira's grip adjusting instinctively to introduce Zoey to the hold. A smile places itself softly on her lips as her chest rises. "Us next, Rumi. You doing okay?” She calmly asks, her smile only there to improve the singer’s state of mind. 

“Surprisingly" Rumi answered after an intake of breath as she repeated songs and mantras in her head. Anything to numb the noise in front of her. “Yeah. I'm…I'm ready to do this,” she follows on, her voice projecting forward for once, her head facing the terminal exit as if it's staring back at her. 

“Still can't believe you bought economy tickets, cheap-o," Zoey judges lightheartedly, that devilish smirk playing on her lips as she brings Shelly out of her jumper, one handed, never breaking the intimate stare she has on Mira. 

“Well you said that I can only save tokens at the arcade the other day. And who forgot to buy the return tickets?" Mira challenged with a head tilt and a simple tut of her lips, showing her pearly whites. 

Zoey looks back up at the towering dancer with her almond, puppy eyes, furrowed brows and a pout drooping off her lower lip. Small whimpers escape the maknae, sensing the indifference it’s causing on Mira. “You're not fair, baby." She protests as she trots on one foot after the other as authorised personnel lead the three to the plane's staircase.

“Passports please." the gate agent softly demands, her hands already spreading into an open palm from muscle memory. Though her seemingly innocent smile doesn’t quite sit right with the rest of her demeanour, it was more than enough for the girls - especially since it was the most promising sign of life within the airport during the early hour.

Giving their passports to the agent with the same manipulated smiles on their faces, the girls were let through one after the other in orderly fashion.

“Did you guys also find her really weird.” Mira asked as soon as the lady was out of earshot, tilting her head backwards towards the worker going through another family’s passports with the same awkwardness as before. 

“Give her some props though, it’s really fuckin’ early” Zoey calmly responds in a loud whisper, chuckling at the last part showing half-remorse to her. 

Repeating her seat number in her head, Rumi was already slightly ahead of her two girls, too inside her own head as it replays the dread she’s experienced in the past on other flights. “J eight, J eight, J eight,”

The only sound she could hear inside her head was herself and the softening mutters of the other two - who in her mind were just ‘lagging behind’. “I dibs the window seat when we get to our row, girls,” the singer chuffed to herself, already knowing she was ahead so she had full control on who sat where - for the most part at least.

Mira and Zoey finally overtook the family separating them from Rumi. The raggedness in their tired steps began to escape the hardness in their weary façade as they approached their adjacent seat numbers next to the Rumi who had already sat down and stuffed her luggage above her. “She did call dibs in all fairness,” Zoey pouted, seeing the window seat that she internally called for preoccupied by the singer. 

Discarding their hand-ons in the holder above them, Mira and Zoey were finally able to have a seat after the not so needed stress they had to endure to make sure Rumi didn’t rip her own locks out. 

Time seemed to reach a pit stop as Zoey’s soft, mailable hand molded into the hem of Rumi’s jumper, delicately gliding across the stitches separating neck from arm. She could secretly hear the Linkin Park blasting through Rumi’s headphones to drown out all the voices performing seances inside her head. “You’re going to be okay, baby. Trust me on that, hm?” The usually chaotic Zoey hummed, allowing herself inside of the singer’s normally closed off pre-lift-off ritual.

“Is she okay, babe?” Mira asked, intrigued but willing to help if needs be. 

The half-demon’s hands instinctively outstretched to reach the hand squeezing her shoulder on beat to the song cleansing her eardrums. Until it landed on Shelly. The tactile surface running through its head allowed calmness to enter Rumi. The familiarity of knowing that she is now repeating Zoey’s own thought through procedures as if it were her own. Her hands begin to trail down to the turtle’s hexagons. The roughness at the roots of its fur almost reflects Rumi’s own emotional act.

Watching the odd fluidity in the singer’s motions, Zoey’s arm played its part, loosely wrapping itself around the silent Rumi. The nurturing tug that stuck to Rumi’s arm closed their distance to touching shoulders. The softness in Zoey’s voice outshone any deafening forms of noise that ever came out of Rumi’s headphones, “Shh, it’s okay, baby…” she whispered, her lips practically teasing the singer’s upper jaw with faint kisses. “You’re with us. You’re not alone in this.” Zoey cooed, her kisses falling more deliberately this time.

“I think we should let her rest for a bit, baby." Mira cautioned, her voice full with its usual low timbre as her hand reached to meet Zoey's scruffed jumper. “I think she’s realising why you love Shelly so much too." She hummed, her head now resting on her hand, her pink strands loosely tickling the base of the rapper’s neck.

Rumi’s breath latched in her throat, held there without an exhale. The plane’s acceleration crept upon Rumi as it usually did, slamming her head back onto her seat for beats too long to count. As the plane lifted off the ground, Rumi took full possession of Shelly, ripping the grip of the turtle plushy out of Zoey’s softer hands. “Hold me,” Rumi blurts almost incoherently, her voice cracking with anxiety, even in a whisper. “Please,” she choked out through an anxious hum.

Mira could physically feel the strain in Rumi’s eyes as she squinted them shut, her eyes darting beneath her eyelids as her body got pushed even further back into the fabric of her seat. 

“It's okay, my love. Focus on my voice okay?" Those words twist inside Rumi's gut. The way her words are flipped to be aimed at her now. The softness in Zoey's voice paints that exact moment she had with Mira earlier inside the apartment. The ‘blue towel’ and the ‘blue vase’ etched their image inside her skull. She could touch the clothy fabric of the towel and she could hear the vase in her mind if she were able to flick it with the tip of her fingernail. 

Rumi could never feel worthy of such love. Worthy of such love she gets to call her own. Worthy of such love that she swore to give back but could never find the right way to show that commitment. But for all Mira and Zoey cared, she was doing enough. And enough is her best. They all knew that. 

She loves them.

“Why are you helping me?" She blurts, too guilty ridden to slide apology into her question. Her face snaps to the right, her eyes still not open but are aimed right at the window. "You're just wasting your time,” the singer dismisses, untrusting of the nurture she's receiving.  

“Don't talk like that, Rumi. You know that isn't true. We will be here whether you like it or not." Mira snaps, half annoyed at the half demon and half annoyed at herself for allowing Rumi to ever feel this unlovable. "Comprende?” she follows… She doesn't even want an answer right now. All she wanted right now was a silent Rumi. A very silent one at that. 

But it breaks her to even let herself think like that.

"Stop bitching at me, Mira.” Rumi hisses under bated breath, her voice croaking from her burnt oesophagus, stripped from its lining from Rumi's hidden tears. The scoff that exits Mira’s mouth without permission lands directly into Rumi's ear. 

“Girls, enough with the bickering please." Zoey commanded softly, both of her hands meeting her two girlfriends’. "Now, can we please have a nice, calm send off for this vacation of ours?" She further asks. Though not asking much, her voice is laced with a silent beg - after paying for almost everything, it’s the least she could ask of them.

"Sorry.” Rumi grumbled, unable to hear her own voice through her headphones, plopping the earpiece back onto her right ear. 

"Sorry, my love.” Mira apologises afterwards, sieving her hand through her now semi-sweaty hair, bouncing the strands at the roots, fluffing it out a little bit. "Thank you for all of this by the way," she continues, reverence coating her words as per usual as she squeezed her hand into Zoey's in patterns of three as the silent ‘I love you’ she'd always give randomly throughout the day.

“This is going to be one long ass plane ride.” Rumi grunts through a nailbiting episode, flicking the dust from beneath them onto the floor absent-mindedly as her mind wanders elsewhere, too absorbed in her music. 

Hours pass by like minutes for Rumi as her eyes wander past the constellations which slowly start to fade as sunrise crawls upon the aircraft. “Well there goes Orion," she whispers into her own hand, acting as if she knew what that actually meant.

Nudging her at the shoulder, Zoey grabs Rumi's wavering attention, "Tea or coffee, my love?” The maknae asks sweetly, her words casting spells on Rumi's stomach - the growl louder than it needed to be. 

"Tea please.” She responded softly, crawling into herself to hide from the embarrassment, the smoothness of her palms streaking across her face. 

“Here you go, my lovely,” Zoey’s hand brushed past Rumi’s as they exchanged the possession of the cardboard cup with an encouraging smile playing at her slightly cracked lips. “It's hot so please be careful, hon.” The maknae followed up, pivoting her attention back to whatever she was doing on her phone.

“Thank you.” Rumi whispered, her hands clasp together around the cup, as she brings it to her mouth to softly blow it cool. 

Clicking herself back into her seat for the fourth time already, Mira reached out to put a hand on Zoey. “These seats are way too small, babe.” She complained tiredly, her legs stabbing with pins and needles as her ankles start to numb.

”You’re just getting too tall, my cute little giant,” Zoey responded with a cheeky smirk pulling at her right lip and an eye squint, “And plus, you paid for these seats, too.” The maknae continued to tease, rubbing her concerningly sweaty hand on Mira’s trousers, wiping off her body’s residue. 

“Yeah but, I just paid to have the boarding passes, not the seats themselves, dumbo.” Mira retorted lightly, swatting her hand at the rapper’s smaller digits, feeling the moistness seeping through the fabric on her leg.

”Well maybe if you were able to save your money…” Zoey provocated, elongating the last syllable for as long as her breath could last as her left lip began to raise into a full smile.

”Do not  speak finance to the money queen,” The pink-haired dancer bounced back, her face inches from Zoey’s, her hands reaching for her cluster of freckles splattered across her cheekbone. 

“Is that what you get called by men when you’re dancing on that pole of yours?” Zoey humoured, stifling a laugh as she gets touchy-feely with Mira, her fingers drawing patterns on her legs, etching closer to her waist. 

“Type shit?” Rumi blurted, ripping her headphones from her head, leaning into the conversation. “We should start calling her that now, alongside her trying to rev the engine.” The singer continues, her torso pressing against the armrest as she continues to close the gap between the other two.

Mira’s face scowls playfully, her furrowed brows reaching her upper eyelids in frustration, “Talk about that one more time and no more pussy privileges for you.” Mira warns, her voice playful yet stern, fully committed to only relying on teasing when they have their time in bed together. 

“That’s it?…” Rumi challenges, lengthening the last syllable as if knowing that the dancer had more in mind.

”Well, you asked for it.” Mira hums absentmindedly, her eyes flicking down to her phone before taking in a breath, hinting she’s going to continue.

”Wait, what does that mean?” Rumi anxiously responds, her voice barely above a whisper, her headphones now fully detached from her body, giving Mira her full undivided attention.

”I’m no longer using my strap with you. Only Zoey has that privilege now.” She states calmly, her hand performing a waving motion at her crotch, lifting her hips for a brief moment to really sell her promise.

”Oof, not the strap!” Zoey intervenes, smiling to herself, knowing Mira’s glowing length is all for her now. “imagine not getting strapped in by our money Queen.” She follows, dragging her palms downwards across her face through an exaggerated grunt as her mind traverses through unholy thoughts of Mira teasing Rumi until she malfunctions.

“Fine, I'll no longer talk about whatever happened in the arcade… stupid.” Rumi whined, scrunching her face in faux annoyance, crossing her arms over her chest where her baggy jumper lays on her figure as if it were made specifically for her. "But the internet will never forget it.” The singer followed up, choosing to press the subject to see if Mira would react. 

"I can read out the tweet again, Mira…if you want me to at least.” Zoey chimed, her voice high pitched and innocent as always. "If I don't lose my strap privileges too, that is" the rapper carries on, her phone waving in her hand, the screenshot of the tweet already opened.

“Nah it's honestly being overplayed," Rumi begins, drowning her own amusement in the boredom it's now producing, “overplayed by a whole thirteen million times to be exact," the singer resumes, picking up her tea, holding it only for its warmth. "Don't think that that means we aren't going to tease you about it though, money queen.” 

“Go ahead, call the very lesbian lesbian straight." Mira calmly remarks, swinging her phone between the punch of her index and thumb, “let's see how you're going to last in bed without anything from me, subby." Her voice calculated as if she would actually go through with the thought.

The roll in Rumi's eyes drags her attention back to the window beside her, where clouds paint the sky beneath her a thick milky white, draining the green she hoped to search for below. The fully dawned sun seemed to settle nicely behind the wing in front of her, its glint gliding along the plane’s metal, reflecting its light into the singer’s eyes. 

“The sky’s really beautiful today, isn’t it?” The singer asks, her fingers tracing lazy circles around the edge of the glass pane.

Zoey’s hand finds Rumi’s shoulder, leaning her head on her hand as a cushion, “It really is, my lovely.” The rapper hums delicately, her breath louder than her voice. “But I know two more things that are more beautiful than the sky.” Zoey resumes as her other hand meets Rumi’s thigh, squeezing it gently - the only way the singer would have it.

“I love you, baby." The softness in the singer’s voice was barely louder than the background hum of the plane as her hand slid down to rub her thumb reverently over Zoey's. "More than you'll ever know.” 

“You're the best, hon." Mira sighed, her smile grinding her blush as she threads her hands through the maknae's hair, resting her lengthy fingers in the strands before scrunching them in patterns only Zoey could ever recognise. "Wanna know something that's just as beautiful though?” Mira asks open-endedly, her soothing voice raising at the end of the question.

The corner of Zoey's eyebrow lifted slightly at the remark, her eyes fluttering to her right, taking in Mira's more relaxed physique before meeting her eye to eye. The way Mira's voice always found its way to calm Zoey down will always remain a complex mystery to the maknae. It could be to do with the lower than expected pitch she has equipped. Or maybe she is too deep in love to realise how easily she is able to get flustered.

"What's that, baby?” The maknae whispers into Mira's hands, her breath tracing the ridges of her palm, kissing it gently afterwards.

Mira briefly flickers her usual sharp eyes - now soft, brown, almost doe-like - onto the maknae, adoring her girlfriend’s sun kissed freckles and the little slit in her eyebrow. Mira's lips let out a small hum as she tilts her head just barely to their half demon girlfriend. Zoey’s confusion grew for just a fraction before getting what Mira means as something unreadable flickers between the sight of the couple. Slowly, they both turn towards Rumi. "I can feel you both staring you know..." the half demon grumbles, still being held tightly by her girlfriends, each arm rubbing across the hems and crooks of her uneven and disheveled jumper. 

Zoey's smirk widens briefly, her eyes sparkling with the one sense of true love she ever wants to feel. “I know you can, my love," she sighed into the crevice of the half-demon’s neck, the spiralling patterns flickering iridescent before fading back to its usual pastel pallet. 

Mira's outstretched palm, crossing behind Zoey's back, met the softness of Rumi's skin. The reverence radiating from the dancer's fingertips - that glided smoothly across each line and marking of the singer’s body - made Rumi's heart shudder. "Wanna feel something even better?” She husked, the underlying bass in her words vibrated inside of the half-demon’s chest as Mira's index crept through the paint-splattered valleys which marked what was rightfully hers. 

Rumi’s eyes trailed down towards Mira’s moving limb, her eyes tracing rough outlines of the veins in her forearm leading down to her right hand moving suggestively towards her cleavage. “Tits are off limits right now, babe,” she hummed calmly, slightly smiling on one side of her face as she tilted her head up gently to access the dancer’s eyes.

The glisten in Rumi’s patterns caught the attention of Zoey, her head still propped up on the singer’s shoulder, hands tenderly massaging her inner thigh. “She’s glowing, Mir.” The maknae bluntly stated, waving her hand towards Rumi’s neck, flickering a faint pink. Her fingers poke at the lines which cover the singer head to toe, her touch barely there as they glide across Rumi’s toned skin.

Despite the growing arousal possessing the three of them, the plane began its descent. The dullness in the puffed clouds, now surrounding them, blocked any chance of a nice view. “Classic Seoul.” Rumi whined though used to the repeating occurrence. “I can almost smell the rain from inside this stupid cabin.” She further prodded, kicking her legs back as much as she can in the small space she’s confined to.

“Yeah, welcome to Korea, I guess.” Zoey exhaled, her voice barely present. 

“I’m glad that we’re back home though, y’know.” Mira whispered, her breath catching Zoey’s earlobe. “I mean we get to see Bobby again.” Her hands slid down Zoey’s figure, stopping abruptly as palm met lower thigh, her other hand stationary on her sleeve-covered shoulder.

”Yeah, well I still wish we were in Burbank.” Zoey puckered, her eyes parting from Mira’s, shifting them towards the same window Rumi was mindlessly looking at - the plane wing completely cut off by a thick sheath of grey as raindrops hammer against the glass.

“Two minutes until we land though, babe.” Stated Mira monotonously, ripping off the bandaid as she stares at the "Estimated Time Of Arrival” meticulously counting back from ten. 

“Any minute now then.” Rumi responded, fixing her jumper by the hood and putting her headphones around her neck, the earpieces facing away from her. 

“Quite literally, Unnie.” Mira hummed through an intake of breath, suppressing a hiccup from escaping her lips. “Ugh, my ears need to pop,” she announced, bringing a balled fist to her mouth as it opened wide, her ears stretching at the tension in her jaw. 

“What was that, my love?” Zoey tried humour, cupping the outside of one of her ears with her hand, exaggerating her lean towards the dancer, faking being like her - stupidly fucking deaf.

”Huh?” Mira hummed, lifting her head to face Zoey, her face confused.

”Proved my point,” The maknae replied, clasping her hands together as if she achieved world peace. 

“Rumi, my Zoey translator is malfunctioning. Help.” She pleas weakly, crying through a disguised laugh as she reaches for her face to clean the lenses of her glasses.

”Damn girl, I forgot how sexy you are without glasses, blind-y” Zoey teased, her voice rising in pitch as she pokes the dancer’s cheek - deep down she was crumbling. The way her jumper sits politely on her shoulders, creasing only where it needs to and the manner in which her eyes narrow in reaction to removing her glasses does something to her.

“Someone has a crush," Rumi teased in a sing-song, her vibrato exaggerated with a wide grin pulling at her cheeks. Her hand begins to wander through the air, just like a plane finding its runway, before meeting Zoey's cheek with a raspberry sound spitting out her mouth. 

"She's more than just my crush though,” the maknae spat back, her cheek still caved in by Rumi's finger, as she leant across to help Mira fix her glasses. "She's my biatch,” she states bluntly, her smile captivating as Rumi stares at her lips before looking more skywards to her short bangs swaying gently with each movement and shake of her head. 

Mira looks back up at the dispute, her gaze fixed with gratitude as Zoey’s face became a bit more clearer behind her moving hand closing in on her face and Rumi's jumper now readable. “Thank you, jagiya," she cooed softly, her lips puckering, reaching the ball of the maknae's palm as her eyes crinkled with genuine love. 

“You're so welcome, Noona." Zoey sighed, leaning her head on the headrest of her plane seat, caressing Mira's arm, applying pressure whenever she felt like it. "I love touching you, baby,” she follows, not thinking before speaking as her strokes continue, her hand reaching further up her built bicep, applying tiny scratches to her protruding veins. "Boop!” she called out, puncturing the vein with the tip of her nail. 

“We all know, freak-a-tron" Rumi cut in, nestling into the rapper’s shoulder, making sure to dig her head into it just light enough to not cause a wince, “you love touching me too, right?" She questioned, her chin bobbing in and out of the crevasse of the maknae’s shoulder. 

“Of course I do, baby." Zoey reassures, placing a soft palm on Rumi's cheek, tapping it rhythmically as an allowance for the singer’s eyelids to meet together following a cute sigh into the maknae's neck. “Equally as much.” She went on softly, squinting her eyes in pure bliss - having her two favourite people in her whole world swooning over her.

“We're ‘bout to land, girls." Mira announced as she ruffled the softness out of Zoey's hair, threading some strands between her fingertips.

"You're lucky I was half-assed with how I wanted my hair to look today, babe." Zoey whimpered, lowering her eyebrows in playful anger before copying Mira’s own moves back to her. 

Rumi just sighed beside them, smiling to herself as she closed her eyes. " Y'know Bobby actually wants us three to arrive in one piece later, right?” Her soft laughter, causing her voice to break. “Dumbasses." She cooed as if she just called them her princess.

“What do you mean ‘dumbasses’, dumbass?" Zoey quickly retorts, her face clearly still smitten with the love she has for the dancer.

"I mean you both look like you just woke up from a century long nap.” She responded with confidence, her hands jabbing through the air to point vaguely to the top of the two girls’ heads, her smile never leaving her lips. "Hence dumbass.” She concludes proudly, adjusting her posture upright.

“Let her be proud of herself Zoey." Mira comfortingly reassures, the sigh escaping her lips landing on the freckles on Zoey's upper shoulder where the dancer’s limb rests comfortably. “Do you think she realises that she's probably ‘dumber’ from dumb and dumber?" 

“Oh yeah she does…” Zoey whispers back, lowering her tilted head to kiss Mira's knuckles, her lips catching the metal of one of her rings, "she seems proud of it too.” 

“Why wouldn't I be proud, lovelies." The singer boasted, lifting her chin confidently before averting her gaze once more, blinking a couple times to refocus her vision as she watched the wheels of the plane meet concrete. "We're home,” she sighs gently as she reaches out for Zoey's back, scratching at some loose ends of fabric practically calling to be ripped off.

“Can you get our bags for us please, baby?” Zoey asks, flowing her finger through the dancer’s hair, twirling the ends around her finger, “Pretty please with a cherry on top? She carries on, looking at Mira with her puppy eyes and a trembling bottom lip.

”Well, I need to stretch anyways,” The dancer politely excused, reaching for the overhead compartment with outstretched hands as she goes on her tiptoes to reach for Rumi’s duffel bag. “Rums.” She calls out, awaiting for the singer to take the bag out of her grasp. 

Zoey’s eyes lift upwards as she feels the weight of her bag being planted comfortably on her right thigh, the dancer’s hand drifting down her leg before removing her limb from the rapper’s kneecap, “Here’s your one, baby.” She coos, smiling back at the maknae, the lingering touch allowing a small hum to exit the rapper’s lips, as she sparks up like fireworks and pecks Mira's chin with a small kiss. "Thank you jagiyla~" She whispers right in Mira's ear before following Rumi out of the plane, bouncing lightly on her toes, eager to get out of the cabin.

“Stay in front of me, baby," the singer commanded sweetly, placing her hand on the rapper’s lower back, gently pushing her forward whilst still being in her vision. “That's it, my love." Her arm slowly began to envelop around the maknae's small waist, her hand scratching at her belly through the thick jumper. 

“Girls, wait up for me!" Mira stammered, weaving through the cracks of the crammed plane, repeating apologies to every other person she knocks on the shoulder. “You're going way too fast," 

“Nah, you’re just a slow coach, jagiya.” The maknae sweetly responds, not turning away from Rumi’s touch, her head firmly held forward. She holds her hand out expecting the dancer to reach out for it like she always does when the other two scurry off somewhere unexpectedly - twitching her fingers to hurry Mira up.

A playful scowl appeared on the dancer’s face, her lips scrunched tightly but a smile still protruded, “I am not slow, dumbass. I'm just… not fast, okay?" She turned her head to bow to the staff, who were smiling politely at the departing passengers, “thank you.” she said automatically, though her words still held emotion.

Rumi watched as the dancer took pride in each of her steps towards her lovers. Her hair swayed gently as the rain spilt around the three of them, dampening her wisps of pink as she linked her hand with Zoey's which was still outstretched. The grin on the maknae's face was the only thing Rumi swore she needed in life. She always knew how genuine the rapper's emotions were when she would show them. The glint that reflected off her eyes every time her lips were upturned, every bounce of her feet when she felt like she ruled the world, and most importantly how heaviness found her eyelids when all three of them were intertwined - God, the urge to kiss her stupid right then and there out in the open, where petrichor met their nostrils, was way too tough to ignore.

Rumi tugged her hood further over her head as another gust of rain swept across the walkway, droplets speckling her lashes and darkening the fabric clinging to her shoulders. The airport stretched out in front of them—grey concrete, glowing signs, streams of travellers funneling in every direction like they were being poured out of the sky.

“Okay,” she muttered, adjusting the strap of her bag, “who packed the weather.”

Zoey didn’t answer.

She was too busy craning her neck in every direction, heels of her sneakers rocking as if she could will the baggage carousel to appear faster through sheer anticipation alone.

Mira noticed immediately. Of course she did.

“You’re vibrating,” she murmured, bumping her hip into Zoey’s gently.

“I am not.” Zoey retorts, placing a soft palm on her cleavage in faux stubbornness.

“You look like a puppy outside a pet shop.” the dancer continued, the image vivid in the rapper’s mind.

Rumi snorted.

Zoey huffed, but didn’t deny it—just clasped Mira’s hand tighter as they were swept along with the crowd toward the glowing sign that read Baggage Claim.

Rumi's fingers kept twitching. Eyeing each passing suitcase like a perched hawk hunting for prey.

“Dry air," the maknae cried in a hushed shout, huffing and exhausted. “Finally, dry air." Her voice breathless as she knelt her elbows onto her thighs, heaving her chest.

“We walked for like ten minutes, jagiya." Mira pointed out calmly, waving her hand around the sighing American.

“Unfit much," the singer shrugged off, grunting as she yanked her beaten suitcase off the forever moving conveyor belt, the rubber on the tiles unpleasantly screeched as she pulled the luggage back into her possession.

“Hot though." Mira casually states, lifting her hand up to teasingly tap Zoey on her ass poking slightly, still attempting to tame the air back into her lungs.

“Cmon, lovebirds, you just missed your suitcases," Rumi hurried politely, pointing her head behind her as she thrusted the crusting, retracted handle from her own one, turning her body back round to face the mass of moving luggage.

Mira nodded gravely. “I miss my socks.” she whimpered, bouncing gently on pouting legs as she lifted her head to the stars only to be met by blindingly bright LEDs.

Zoey brightened. “I miss my hoodie.” her hands curl inwards towards her chest in excitement to be met with comforting familiarity, already imagining hugging her turtle painted jumper again, already feeling its calming texture in the base of her palms

 “You’re wearing it.” Rumi lightly questioned, looking the rapper up and down where the three of her four turtle plushies were still crammed inside where Zoey refused to let go of them.

“Yeah, but the other one.” Mira cuts in, stealing the bubbliness from the maknae's voice as she mocks it lovingly, the stupidly high timbre unable to match up with her usual tone.

Rumi groaned softly, twitching her upper lip, unable to stifle a laugh. "God, you're ridiculous sometimes, lovely.” 

"Hey! I do NOT sound like that, idiot!” Zoey screeched, swatting Mira at the arm through her usual chuckle.

“I beg to differ, babe.” Rumi deadpanned, turning away from the other two, leading the way out of customs. 

Zoey scoffed, straightening up despite still leaning half her weight into Mira’s side. “You’re just bitter because I’m thriving.”

“You nearly collapsed onto the floor two minutes ago,” Mira pointed out, hooking a finger into the strap of Zoey’s backpack before she could wander off again. “Thriving is generous.”

“I was stretching.” Zoey puffed out her chest a little, trying to sound convincing, but her shoulders betrayed her, rolling with the effort.

“That was crouching and wheezing,” Mira deadpanned, letting a small smirk curl at the corner of her lips as she bumped Zoey gently with her hip.

“It was… essential maintenance,” Zoey said, tipping her head back like she was delivering a groundbreaking announcement.

“For what?” Rumi asked, flat but curious, turning around slightly, slowing down her strides to meet them eye to eye.

“To survive airports with you two,” Zoey shot back immediately, her fingers twitching against the seam of her sleeve as if the motion proved she was utterly serious.

Mira nudged her forward with the palm of her hands with playful force, sending the rapper flying forward, flailing her hands or balance “Just shut up and walk, drama queen.” 

Zoey blinks back exaggeratedly, mock astonishment covering her face “I am walking.” She quietly retorts, jabbing Mira in the side with the knuckle of her index finger.

“Slowly.” The dancer responded casually, her finger still looped under the hook of the maknae’s bag, making sure she couldn’t run off like she did last time in the airport when they landed in Mississippi.

”Hurry up, you two. Bobby has been waiting for us for like the last hour.” Rumi huffed, dropping her shoulders in mild frustration, her arms darting towards the exit, determined to get back home.

As the other two followed obediently behind the singer, sliding doors fading in and out of existence as Rumi entered her flow state of walking, Mira noticed the way in which Zoey kept bobbing her head up and down. The tone in her voice when she cooed softly to her stuffed turtles, patting the outside of her jumper where their shells met the fabric. It was almost maternal in the way she nurtured for her ‘babies’ - especially Shelly. She wouldn't even let her beloved girlfriends hold him. 

“You doing okay, pretty?" Mira asked quietly, her voice warm as her movements slowed knowing that airports can make her princess overwhelmed. From the snapping lights of the burning LEDs looming above their heads, to the cluster of travellers seemingly on autopilot. spinning past her at set paces, sharing shoulders with her despite their being space around her.

Zoey didn't respond because she knew she didn't have to with Mira. She just knew. A simple smile at the corner of her mouth was more than enough for the dancer. "I'm okay,” she hummed dully, her mind seamlessly distracted by the rough stitching on Michaelangelo’s black eyeball, her nails scratching it over and over again. 

Weightlessness claimed Mira's shoulder. "That's good, honey.” Her hand crept up from the maknae's bag strap to the back of her neck, scratching at the base of it soothingly despite knowing it was just background noise for her at this moment. "Y'know, I am so proud of you for how brave you're being right now, Jagiya." Her head bowed above Zoey's, her lips pressing against the rapper’s, the kiss slow, tender. 

“Really?" Zoey sparked up, lifting her head gently upwards to find Mira's gaze, her mouth agape as she grins at the dancer’s praise, wrinkles attaching to the corner of her eyelids as she closes them slightly. 

“Yes, really, Zoey." Mira reassured, stroking the maknae's hair at her scalp, adjusting her head with a minute tilt to the right. Her eyes began to drift across Zoey's face, noticing every detail she has learnt to grow accustomed to through the years of knowing her - From a small crush to now being able to proudly call Zoey her own. 

The lack of thought behind her eyes always intrigued the dancer, losing herself within them for what she could only describe as hours put to good use. The freckles, dousing the rapper’s flushed cheeks, embedded into the dancer’s memory from the first time Zoey ever let her wander them during a cheesy rom-com they were rewatching for the fifteenth time, Rumi cuddled up to the right of them, fast asleep in her own world. 

The rain slowly drizzled down Mira's back as both of theirs face away from the entrance to the airport. “Hoods up, my love." Mira commanded softly, grinning. Her hand squeezed around Zoey's as they finally broke eye contact, as for once, Shelly was forgotten in Zoey's mind. Mira’s eyes swept up from the rapper - whose head laid softly on her shoulder. Her soft hair cascading down the dancer’s back. 

A sweet sound escaped past Zoey's lips. A warm chuckle, as she, too, felt droplets landing on her forehead, tickling her face gently as it fell past her nose before landing comfortably on the bow of her upper lip, allowing Zoey to pick it up with her tongue. 

"Bobby!” Rumi squealed, her legs forgotten as they lag behind, catching up to the singer as she bolts towards her manager. "Oh, I've missed you so much, dad.” Rumi mellows, shooting her arms around Bobby’s neck, lacing her fingers together.

Mira and Zoey follow behind the singer, their hands still clasped together as the maknae skips forward, tugging the dancer alongside her. “Hey dude!" Mira smiles sweetly, her head on a tilt as she initiates a hug, Rumi included.

After two months apart, Rumi felt warmth spread through her with the familiarity of being able to catch up with Bobby and sharing the hundreds of stories they made during their time away. 99% of them were about each turtle Zoey won and the countless aquariums they visited along the way in each state - Zoey got to be a spokesperson during a show about the sea turtles they had when in Washington. 

Seoul passed them in neon lights and LED screens displaying the three of them for their comeback performance in the following month. The sky still covered in thick grey as the rain began to pour even heavier than it already was, pellets crashing against the windshield as the wipers work overtime swiping across the glass. Zoey's rants still filled the vehicle, snickers of laughter interrupting her story where she tried to smuggle Michaelangelo through TSA before their flight to Burbank, almost getting strip searched in the process.

“I wish I was the one strip searching you." Mira deadpans, her voice distant whilst pretending to focus on picking at her skin, heads beginning to turn towards her direction in sync. "What?” She questions open-endedly, "Am I wrong? She's hot.” 

"No-one said I wasn't, honey,” Zoey boasts, flicking her hair back with the back of her knuckles - the back of her chair thuds where her locks slammed against it.

“I beg you just get us home Bobby. I fear they're going to make out soon.* Rumi butted in, slowly turning her head towards their manager with a pleading tremble of her lower lip. - she knew she would join in with the makeout if they actually started to kiss.

"Ugh no fun,” Zoey spoke up, dropping her shoulders abruptly with a sigh.

"You're such a buzzkill!" Mira responded, lending the maknae her hand to hold and pepper in the kisses she loved.

“You're more lesbian than us, hoe." The rapper mumbled under her breath, slapping the back of her chair with a clenched fist.

“You're no longer invited to join me in my bed tonight, girls." Rumi announced suddenly with a snap of her fingers, staring bobby down and smirking at him.

"Oh, however will we cope.” Mira sarcasms monotonously, her hands lifting upwards, mocking a surrendering pose whilst leaning her head back slightly, staring up at the sunroof.

“That's fine, I'll be sleeping with my other friends." The American excused, waving off the dare at the same time as bringing Shelly to her lips and dipping her head onto the dancer’s shoulder, stretching her body across the back seat between them.

"That includes me, right?” Mira asks possessively, her hands clinging to the rapper like she's a lifeline, shaking her gently side to side. "It better include me, babe.”

“You're meant to be scared, you two." A pout forms on the singer’s lips as she darts her arms around herself, lifting her legs to her chest, turning herself towards her window, staring out at the objects flying by through the rearview mirror. “No fun." She whispers to herself as she watches Bobby near to the girls’ personal garage at the penthouse - ‘HUNTR/X’ displayed near the top of the skyscraper in purple and white. The easily identifiable glass panes surrounding the penthouse with their lengthy couch visible through it. 

Zoey could see their logo lighting up Mira's face slightly, the white reflecting nicely off her cheekbone - the singular area she could get lost in for the longest amount of time without ever getting bored. Her eyes begin to soften as she notices the small creases and imperfection in her supposedly perfect skin. The small dimple planted on her right cheek which protrudes nicely whenever the dancer smirks even the slightest. “Boop!” The American quietly attacked, Shelly's plush head squeezing into Mira's cheek repeatedly. "Boop!” She repeats again, this time targeting her defined jaw, the nose of the turtle sliding all the way across the bone before tickling at her jaw briefly.

"Boop me once more and I swear to god I'm throwing him out the window.” The dancer deadpans, narrowing her eyes with a grin peaking through, the label on Shelly tickling the ball of her chin even more, making Mira giggle and grab the stuffed animal dramatically with a loud “Ahah!" 

"I dare you.” Zoey challenged quietly, inserting herself into Mira's personal space, her face mere inches from her neck, “Your neck is lookin’ super kissable right now, babe." Her warm, slow breath makes Mira lean into her puckered lips unconsciously. “Good girl." She hums, going in for a second round of kisses - the feeling of Zoey's lips was like no other to the dancer. The way they felt like clouds carelessly caressing and taking ownership of the pink-haired idol like it was just a normal day did something to Mira.

“Keep it for the bedroom you two. We're here now anyways," Rumi cut in, probably wanting some of Zoey's wizardry, before hopping out of her seat and taking her two bags with her. Walking round to the boot, she took a quick peek inside Mira's window seeing how secure she looked when wrapped in Zoey's arms. The calmness in her breaths and the heaviness in her eyes all screaming with content. 

Oh how much Rumi wished this was her.

Rumi lagged behind the skipping couple speeding ahead of her, their arms locked together at the elbow as Zoey leaped with each step and with Mira just simply watching, admiring Zoey's beauty from up close. "Wait up, girls!” Rumi yelled, padding her feet heavily on the gravel beneath her, the bags and suitcases dragging along beside her.

"Who's the slow coach now, huh?” Zoey humoured, squinting her eyes in that manner when she meant no harm. The wideness in her snickering only made the singer fall even more in love with her bubbling stupidity.

“Shut up and walk, will you?" Rumi pants through a smile that hasn't left her lips since the other two swept ahead of her. Her chest heaves with desire and exhaustion as she quickens her pace towards the entrance of the building.

The elevator doors hum closed behind the group as they head towards the calming scent they have only ever known as home. The glass piano lay where they left it after a hectic karaoke night only hours before they had to leave to get to the airport to head to America. Mira's notebook she thought she left at the lounging area lying exactly where she threw it when Zoey pounced on her in a hug attack, her face smudged with lipstick trailing from her forehead to the base of her chin. 

“Home sweet home, my lovelies.” Mira sighed casually, draping her arms around Zoey and Rumi’s shoulders, tapping rhythmically before walking ahead of them first, picking up the notebook to flick through pages as waves of nostalgia flutter through her stomach seeing each entry of every page - all of them unique in their own manner from song ideas to how she woke up randomly with three unusually large hickeys on her shoulder and bite marks Rumi left possessively, the indents still visible on her if you squint hard enough.

The sound of padding shoes crescendo slightly as the singer approaches Mira before sitting cross legged beside her, their knees touching gently, brushing against each other with every movement they make. “To be fair it is beginning to heal nicely, babe.” Rumi says, noticing the way Mira’s hand instinctively goes to cover the softening bruise, rereading the passages over and over again before setting the book aside, the highlighted pages landing skew whiff with her careless discard. “Very nicely in fact.” Rumi whispers whilst closing her distance between the dancer and her bold claim. 

Zoey's eyes swoon at the sight of them being tangled together, her lids softening with gentle admiration before turning her head towards the plethora of turtle plushies she has won over the years - Mira and Rumi won them for her - walking towards the small hammock curiously, stopping only once she was within arms reach of the shelf. “I love you, Shells.” Her voice low, making sure her girlfriends didn’t hear her from just across the room where her back faces them, “Thank you for everything,” this time her voice slightly louder for Mira and Rumi to also pick up on the fact that the rapper is indirectly talking to them too. 

“Come sit with us, baby.” Rumi suggested, patting the free seat beside her gently, the cushions on the sofa bouncing never so slightly with each thump of her open palm. The invitation was too tempting for Zoey to say no. She places Shelly on top of her other stuffed animals, some old, used and fading in colour, some newer and vibrant in their shades of green - all equally as loved. 

“Coming, RuRu.” She responded, her eyes sparkling with joy seeing her spot neatly preserved, both Mira and Rumi’s arm flung behind the back rest of the couch for Zoey to rest her neck. “I’m happy we’re home, my loves.” She whispered slowly, making sure the both of them properly processed her words without the need to repeat herself.

“I’m so happy for you, Zo.” Mira spoke up making sure her voice wasn’t overwhelming for the maknae as she began to file her hand through the midnight black of Zoey’s hair, the slight curls in her locks tangling between the dancer’s index and middle finger. “I love you two so much, did you know that?” She perked up once more, her hands stopped playing with the rapper’s hair for a moment before continuing again. The rain began to soften on the glass panes, the thuds turning into weak taps, barely audible above the girls’ chatter and murmurs of loving reassurances as they stared out at the city in front of them as the sun began to set. Rumi jokingly hums the melody to Golden at the sight of the deep yellow hue covering the horizon line, the sun dipping below the hills before disappearing completely.