Chapter Text
The first time anyone asked eight-year-old Miu what she wanted to be when she grew up, she answered with complete confidence, “Whatever Lena is doing.”
It made the adults laugh.
It made Lena sigh the long-suffering sigh of someone who had already spent years being attached to Miu like a second shadow despite only being in elementary school. And it made Miu grin proudly, because to her, that answer made perfect sense.
Lena had always been there.
Before Miu learned how to ride a bike. Before she learned multiplication. Before she discovered she hated tomatoes and loved karaoke and that she apparently talked too much according to every teacher she’d ever had.
There had always been Lena.
Quiet little Lena with careful eyes and scraped knees and soft sweaters two sizes too big.
Their mothers liked to joke that the girls came as a pair, that being born on the same day—Lena barely two minutes older— made them unintentional twins, or better yet, Soulmates. Wherever one was, the other followed shortly after.
If Miu climbed a tree, Lena waited underneath with crossed arms and a resigned expression. If Lena sat alone reading at recess, Miu would dramatically throw herself across the bench five minutes later and begin narrating her entire day without taking a single breath.
No one really knew how they worked.
Maybe they shouldn’t have.
Miu was bright and loud and impossible to ignore. Lena was stillness personified, speaking only when she had something worth saying. Miu made friends with strangers in grocery store lines. Lena avoided eye contact with cashiers if she could help it.
But somehow, impossibly, they fit. Like opposite ends of the same thread.
“Lalee!” The shout echoed across the school courtyard.
Twelve-year-old Lena looked up from her notebook, only one person called her that name, just in time to see Miu sprinting toward her at full speed with untied shoelaces and absolutely no regard for human safety.
Lena immediately stood. “Slow down—”
Too late.
Miu crashed into her hard enough to nearly send them both tumbling backward onto the grass.
“You won’t believe what happened,” Miu announced breathlessly.
Lena steadied them with practiced ease. “You say that every day.”
“Because every day something unbelievable happens to me.”
“That sounds concerning, Miu, honestly.”
Miu beamed. “A senior confessed to Namtan during lunch and accidentally confessed to the wrong twin.”
Lena blinked once. “…What?”
“And then he cried.”
“What?”
“And then Milk cried because she felt bad for her sister.”
Lena stared at her.
Miu stared back.
Then Lena quietly closed her notebook. “I need the full story.”
Miu gasped dramatically. “See? This is why you’re my best friend.”
“I thought I was your best friend because I carry snacks for you.”
“That too.”
Miu hooked their arms together and immediately dragged Lena across the courtyard while talking at a speed no normal human could possibly process.
Lena listened anyway, like she always did.
That was the thing about Miu, everyone else heard noise, but Lena heard meaning.
She knew the subtle differences between Miu’s excited rambling and anxious rambling. She knew when the laughter was real and when it hid hurt feelings. She knew that Miu talked more when she was nervous and became strangely quiet when something genuinely upset her.
No one else noticed those things, but Lena did.
Because Miu was her person.
Simple as that.
“You’re staring again.”
Lena looked away from Miu immediately. “I am not.”
Miu grinned, “You totally are.”
“I was thinking.”
Miu narrowed her eyes suspiciously while chewing on a popsicle. “About me?”
“Maybe...”
That instantly transformed Miu into something unbearably smug.
They were fifteen now, sitting on the rooftop of their school while the late afternoon sky melted gold around them.
Miu leaned closer with dangerous curiosity. “What were you thinking?”
Lena hesitated.
That happened more often lately, not because she didn’t know what to say around Miu. It was the opposite, there was too much to say, too many thoughts sitting quietly in her chest.
Like how Miu somehow made every place feel brighter simply by existing inside it. Like how Lena could always recognize Miu’s laugh in a crowded room. Like how she had started noticing tiny things she never used to notice before: the chaotic baby hairs framing Miu’s face, the way her eyes crinkled when she laughed too hard, the warmth of her shoulder pressed against Lena’s during train rides home.
The realization had arrived slowly.
Gentle.
Dangerous.
Lena liked Miu.
Not in the childish best-friend way everyone assumed, but something deeper, something terrifying.
So instead of saying any of that, Lena carefully replied, “I was thinking you’re going to get a brain freeze.”
Miu groaned loudly. “You’re impossible.”
“And yet you keep me around.”
“Unfortunately, I’m emotionally attached.”
Lena smiled before she could stop herself, the dimple appearing timidly.
Miu immediately pointed accusingly. “There! That smile!”
“What smile?”
“The one you only do when you’re trying not to laugh at me.”
“I laugh at you constantly.”
Miu scoffed. “Rude.”
“But accurate.”
Miu huffed dramatically before leaning against Lena’s shoulder anyway. It happened naturally now.
Effortlessly.
Their classmates had long stopped reacting to how attached they were. It was normal to see Miu hanging off Lena’s arm in hallways or Lena wordlessly fixing Miu’s crooked collar before class. They moved around each other with unconscious familiarity. Like muscle memory, like home.
“You know,” Miu said suddenly, voice softer now, “My mom asked me yesterday if we were dating.”
Lena nearly choked on air.
Miu burst into laughter immediately. “Oh my god, your face!”
Lena covered her mouth with one hand. “You can’t say things like that without warning.”
“Why not? It’s funny.”
“You’re a menace.”
“You love me.”
The words landed lightly. Casually, as if it was never in doubt. But Lena still felt her heartbeat stutter.
Miu said it all the time.
You love me.
It was never romantic, never serious, just Miu being Miu. But Lena always heard it differently.
It had already begun to sound differently for Lena.
So Lena answered the only safe way she knew how, “Unfortunately.”
Miu grinned triumphantly and looped her arm tighter around Lena’s.
The sun dipped lower and neither of them moved.
When they were sixteen, Miu got into a fight.
Technically, someone else started it.
Lena arrived behind the gymnasium to find Miu glaring furiously at a girl from another class clutching a torn sleeve.
“You wanna say that again?” Miu snapped, voice clipped and void of any softness.
The girl scoffed. “I said your friend’s weird.”
Lena froze.
Ah.
That explained it. Miu had always been protective of her, aggressively so. Back in grade school, she once bit another child for making Lena cry.
Actually bit him.
The memory still haunted Lena.
“Miu,” Lena said carefully.
Miu ignored her completely. “You don’t get to talk about Lena like that.”
The girl rolled her eyes. “God, are you her guard dog or something?”
“Yes.” The answer came instantly without hesitation.
Lena’s chest tightened. Even the girl looked perturbed by the instant agreement.
Miu stepped forward again. “So apologize.”
“You’re crazy.”
Miu literally growled as she took a step forward, fists already clenching, “And you’re annoying. Apologize anyway.”
“Miu.” This time Lena tugged lightly on her sleeve.
Immediately, Miu stopped. The fury disappeared from her expression almost at once as she turned toward Lena.
“What?”
“Let’s go.”
“But she—”
“Let’s go.”
Miu stared at her for another second before finally relenting with an irritated sigh, then a prominent pout appeared to show her displeasure.
“Fine.”
She still muttered insults under her breath while they walked away. Whispered threats like how she would have her dad know the girl's family name and ruin them to dust, or how she’d convince her dad to buy them into bankruptcy. All dramatic and very Miu whenever she gets into a heated spiral.
Lena quietly listened to them all until they reached the empty music room.
Then she turned toward her. “You didn’t have to do that.”
“Yes I did,” was Miu’s instant answer.
“Miu-“
“She called you weird.”
Lena shrugged slightly. “I am weird.”
“No, you’re not!” Miu answered, looking like she was the one being personally offended.
“Miu.”
“You’re quiet, Lalee,” Miu corrected firmly. “There’s a difference.”
Lena looked at her, really looked at her. At the righteous anger still lingering on her face. At the stubborn protectiveness that had existed since childhood.
Miu had always defended her.
Always stood between Lena and the world without being asked. And sometimes Lena wondered if Miu understood how deeply that mattered.
“How do you always do that?” Lena asked softly.
Miu blinked. “Do what?”
“Make me feel…” Safe.
Important.
Loved.
But Lena couldn’t say those words out loud. So instead she settled for, “Less alone.”
Miu’s expression changed immediately.
Softer now.
Gentler.
Then, with complete sincerity, she said, “Because you never have to be alone when you have me. Through infinity and beyond, remember?”
Lena thought, very suddenly, that she was in serious trouble. Because no one should be allowed to say things like that and mean them so honestly. No one should be allowed to look at her the way Miu did, like Lena mattered endlessly.
The problem was that Miu loved freely, openly.
She hugged people easily. Complimented strangers. Held hands without thinking twice about it.
But with Lena…
It was different or at least, it felt different. Sometimes Miu looked at her too long, sometimes she went strangely quiet during soft moments, or when her fingers lingered during touches that should have been brief.
Lena noticed everything.
That was the curse of loving someone quietly, you noticed every possibility.
Every almost.
Rain poured endlessly outside the convenience store while seventeen-year-old Miu groaned dramatically beside the window.
“This is the universe punishing me.”
Lena sipped her warm canned coffee. “For what?”
“For forgetting an umbrella.”
“You forget an umbrella every week.”
“Exactly. This is targeted harassment now.”
Lena laughed softly.
Miu immediately whipped around. “You laughed!”
“I do that sometimes,” Lena flatly agreed.
“No, no. That was a real laugh.”
Lena rolled her eyes, but warmth crept into her face anyway. Miu loved making her laugh, treating it like a personal victory every single time. It never fails to flutter Lena all the same.
The convenience store lights reflected softly against the rain-soaked streets outside. It was late and just the two of them after cram school.
Comfortable silence settled between them for a while before Miu suddenly spoke again.
“Hey, Lalee?”
“Hm?”
“What do you think we’ll be like in ten years?”
Lena glanced at her. Miu was still staring outside, chin resting against her hand.
“I don’t know,” Lena answered honestly.
Miu hummed, “I think you’ll still be quiet.”
“Probably.”
“And I think I’ll still be annoying.”
“Definitely.”
Miu snorted. “Wow. Fake best friend.”
Lena smiled into her coffee can.
Then Miu continued quietly, “But I think we’ll still have each other.”
The words slipped into Lena’s chest and stayed there.
Steady.
Permanent.
Outside, thunder rumbled faintly. Inside, Lena looked at Miu and thought:
I would give you forever if you asked for it.
And maybe that was the scariest thing of all. Because Lena knew she would, without hesitation and without conditions.
Miu turned then, catching Lena staring again. “There you go doing it.”
Lena looked away immediately. “Doing what?”
“That look.”
“What look?”
Miu smiled softly this time, not the teasing kind, not loud. Just fond.
“The one that makes me feel like you’re keeping secrets.”
Lena’s heartbeat stumbled.
Maybe she was. No, she knew she was.
Maybe every glance carried too much affection. Maybe loving Miu had become something visible long ago. Maybe all it took is to look at Lena’s eyes and see all the unsaid feelings written all over them.
But Miu only bumped their shoulders together gently and said, “Whatever it is, you know you can tell me anything, right?”
Lena swallowed carefully the unsaid truth that sat painfully against her ribs.
Instead, Lena simply answered, “I know.”
Miu smiled again, bright enough to warm entire lifetimes. Then she reached over without thinking and intertwined their pinkies together on top of the convenience store counter.
Casual.
Natural.
Like she always did. Lena stared at their hands for a moment too long.
And somewhere deep inside her chest, hope bloomed dangerously.