Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Even with her phone’s light assaulting her eyes, Mira struggled to stay awake. Her eyelids drooped like they were weighed down with lead. She was supposed to be the punctual one; she couldn’t be up at this hour, on her phone no less. They’ve got an upcoming tour for crying out loud. On nights like these, however, some unseen force compelled her to stare at her screen and wait.

The chats stared back. They reflected in Mira’s eyes like some digital abyss. They were timestamped a decade ago. Abeoji: “Coming home now.” 10 days before she was kicked out. Eomeoni: “Call me.” A week before. Seojoon: “Are you here yet?” A month before.

She read the messages over and over. Stared at the chat boxes until the dividing lines burned into her retina. Hoped to see typing dots magically appear. She knew better than to scroll through the messages; the preview was enough for her.

Unseen force? Bullshit—although Mira would never admit it. She wouldn’t think it. She just stared and let the blinding screen consume her—now that, she could think about.

I should probably stop. My eyes won’t appreciate this one day.

She didn’t stop. She always had a convenient excuse when Zoey inevitably noticed her red eyes the morning after: couldn’t sleep, too many movies, binging dramas (“Without me?!” cried Zoey), or video games. Hell, sometimes Zoey even believed she was working. Does she think I’m Rumi? Guess I didn’t die a hero, and lived long enough to become the villain. Mira let out a dull exhale at her own joke.

It wasn’t really a ritual, but once or twice a month, she sat awake at night and waited. Watched. It was comforting, in a strange way. At least, she thought it was. Maybe she was lying to herself. Maybe if she believed hard enough, a fabled “1” would fall out of the sky and appear next to one of the three chats, and it would say exactly what she wanted to hear, and a decade-long counter would reset. If she believed hard enough, she wouldn’t have to send it. 

When her eyes opened up to meet the sunrise, she noticed her phone on the crisp gray bedsheets—the side where she never tossed and turned. It was like that every morning. The pristine part of the bed almost glowed in the sun’s rays, and the Seoul skyline greeted her behind the full glass wall. It was a canvas of orange and blue every morning. It felt peaceful.

Thank God the bed is big enough for like a billion people. Someday my phone’s gonna fall off the edge.

She shoved the stray hairs out of her face and spit the rest out of mouth. Then she grabbed her phone and checked the notific—the time. The time. She checked the time.

09:44

No Older N—

She was out the door by 10.

Zoey’s hand oscillated between her cereal bowl and her mouth like clockwork, while her eyes were hypnotized by sealife YouTube shorts on the TV. Her posture was bizarre and contorted, and her hair looked more tangled than Rumi’s did in the morning. Mira couldn’t help but snort at the sight, as if Zoey had teleported to the couch mid-slumber. She could faintly hear a hair dryer from Rumi’s room.

She called it Apple Bran or something? Apples sound pretty good. She, for whatever reason, checked to make sure Zoey was absolutely, definitively, positively not looking. She turned back to reach for the cereal. Better eat this in my room and quick. Her hand froze on the box when she saw the actual name. Oh. That’s not apple. Hm. Guess I’ll—

“Mira!” Rumi shouted. Mira flinched and nearly dropped her porcelain bowl on the ground.

Fucking hell, how does she do that? Some kind of demon aura, probably.

Rumi giggled. “Sorry. Hey, that’s Zoey’s American cereal! Can you pour me some of that? I’ve been meaning to try it.” She walked away to go join Zoey on the couch.

Think think think think! “Okay.” No!

Survival instinct triggered. She whipped around to meet Zoey’s gaze, who was already looking back, mouth half-open and full of half-chewed cereal. She saw Mira’s hand still holding the cereal box and formed an uncannily large grin. Mira gave a sheepish smile in response. Zoey swallowed the cereal and returned to being mesmerized by the TV.

“Thanks Mira!” said Rumi as she plopped down next to Zoey. Her long, voluminous unbraided tapestry of purple leaned on a rat’s nest of black.

I better get something else.

Mira’s embarrassment subsided, and she joined the rest. That really wasn’t a big deal and I’m not sure why it feels so weird but it’s probably nothing at all and it’ll just go away—she sets down Rumi’s cereal and her own gukbap a little too hard. The soup swelled over the edge, and a little splashed onto the table.

Zoey suppressed a laugh. “Mira,” she groaned. She opened her mouth wide to continue but then noticed Mira’s body language, then posture, then face, and then, eyes. Zoey squinted at her. “You up ‘till 4 again?

“No. It's nothing. Really. Just got a little too engrossed,” said Mira. “At night, I mean.” She got up to go grab a napkin.

“Um, are you sure?” said Rumi. “It’s been happening a little more often.”

Uh oh, has it gotten more frequent? I’m slipping up. She sat back down on the floor and wiped away the evidence of her brief trance.

“Come on, Mira. As your friend, I orderyoutostopbingingdramasorwhateveritisyouredoingthesedays! I mean nights.”

“Says the reels addict,” Mira retorted, tilting her head back and rolling her eyes toward Zoey.

Zoey lightly kicked her in the back. “Hmph! They’re educational!” Mira’s head recoiled and snapped forward.

“Riiight,” said Rumi.

“See, you’re not fooling anyone. And Rumi’s the most gullible one here.”

“I am no—”

“Hey! Look, we need our lead dancer at her peak for this next tour.”

Zoey was visibly uncomfortable after delivering that line. Zoey getting down to business this quick, huh? Is she reciting a script? Or, oh—had they planned for this? But why would she choose the assertive lines?

“Just, let us know if something’s going on. The last time we avoided that, well, you remember,” Zoey said.

Mira wanted to. Her heart pleaded at her to do it. They would understand. She knew it was the right thing to do. It still didn’t feel like enough—she needed (or wanted?) someone relatable. Sometimes, Mira wondered if one of them could actually relate. Regardless, it would mean addressing the guilt from pushing Rumi and Zoey away in search of someone relatable, when they promised no more secrets to each other. No, they probably don’t relate. It’s silly. Why would anyone except me do something stupid like this?

Mira loved spending an hour (or three) at her vanity desk. Today wasn’t one of those days. She just stared at the tiny shelves and the mirror and the drawers and the accessories and felt… fine. She sat up in her chair, letting her mind wander for ten minutes. Ten became fifteen, then twenty, thirty, sixty—

“Hi Bobby!”

“Hi! Yeah, hi, hey.” he chirped. Mira could make out some loud shuffling and talking in the background when she brought the phone right up to her ear. “Mira? Great news!”

“What is it?” She mindlessly rearranged some nail polish bottles and fidgeted with a brush.

“I know you take this more seriously than you let on, so—I moved some things around and called in a favor. Okay, maybe like seven favors. I can get all the backup dancers to the studio for the next run of sessions! But only 6 out of the 7 days. Sorry! It was the best I could do.”

Thanks, appa.

“Thanks, Bobby. Really, you’re the best.”

You didn’t have to go that far. I should have—

“Anytime! Okaygottago!” Beep.

Mira’s hand, phone still in, collapsed onto her leg. She melted back into the chair. She gave a heavy sigh and stared at her reflection. However, the light green walls looked a little more attractive.

Sixty became a hundred.

It’s gonna be a long tour.

Chapter Text

“Seriously?” Ji-eun complained in a hushed voice. “Right now?”

“Just really quick okay? We’ll be fine. Only Seojoon is home” said Mira.

“Okay, okay. But quick,” she re-emphasized. “I’m not even supposed to be here. I don’t think I’ll be too late, but my hagwon teacher is gonna know something is up”

“Yeah, whatever. Now come here.”

“You’re lucky he doesn’t know my parents,” Ji-eun smirked.

Then she approached Mira and planted her arms on the bed next to Mira’s bottom. Their lips joined, and Mira wrapped her arms around Ji-eun’s shoulders. She leaned back onto the bed, spilling her pink hair everywhere. Ji-eun’s black hair fell down at the sides like curtains around Mira’s head. Small pucks and breaths escaped into the air.

Mira released her embrace of Ji-eun’s shoulders and scooted backward, supporting herself on her forearms. Then in one graceful swoop, she pushed Ji-eun to the side and rolled her onto her back. Ji-eun let out a small giggle. The two girls’ hair were very tangled together now, forming streaks of pink and black. Their lips remained intertwined, dancing together behind the curtain of hair.

In their gentle wrestle, Mira’s glassed got smudged from Ji-eun’s face. Mira pulled back for a second and banished the glasses to the nightstand. Then they stayed still, just an inch apart, to catch their breath, and Mira whipped her hair out of the way. Before reinitiating, she paused to take in the glory of her girlfriend’s face. She cupped her chin and smiled before diving back in.

Click.

Mira and Ji-eun’s lips sprung apart. Mira’s head jerked towards the doorway. Ji-eun, paralyzed with fear, just darted her eyes there. Out of the corner of her eye, she spotted her: Mira’s mother, a silent imposing figure.

Mira stared at her while frozen in the most incriminating position of all time. She blocked the thought from her mind, but she knew it was coming—this is the end. Can’t lie your way out of this one, Mira. Maybe if you stay absolutely still, she won’t see th—. Her mother delivered her last decree.

“Out.”

She broke the stare and looked at the ground, defeated. She let out a sigh that could pass for relief. No argument, no resistance—almost out of character for her. But was it really out of character if every part of her had been a charade 24/7?

Ji-eun slipped out the window when everyone else’s backs were turned. Mira stole a glance at her brother’s room. He sat hunched at his desk, back turned and head buried in workbooks. No headphones. And no reaction as her bag rustled against her leg and the wall. She walked out and didn’t slam the door.

Mira had no idea where to go. She saw Ji-eun down the street for a few seconds, back turned and heading the opposite direction. Mira didn’t pursue.

After drifting in and out of shops and PC bangs to avoid looking homeless, Mira realized she needed an actual plan, and quick—the sun had already set. Be it coincidence or subconscious desire, her wandering ended at the secret dance studio that she loved sneaking off to. She could stop here and think of something.

It wasn’t a top notch place or anything; it was the only one she could afford on her own. The front windows were battered but intact. A torn advertisement was still taped on the inner side of the glass. Mira thought back to her 5-year-old self, who had bolted inside to introduce her teacher to her parents. She thought grabbing onto the paper or the glass would somehow help resist the pull of her parents when they dragged her out. No one ever bothered to replace it.

She couldn’t go back to the studio—no, she couldn’t go anywhere for a month after that. And she couldn’t talk about anything outside of schoolwork either, studio included. When she did sneak off there, she made sure to leave no trace; no can see and no one can know. She claimed to be in new extra classes, even asking her hagwon teachers for extra work material to serve as a plausible front when she came home. She did have to actually complete the work for her plan to function; that was the easy part. She was otherwise on edge, afraid that every single interaction would be the moment when she slipped up, when her house of cards would crumble.

It didn’t, and she got used to lying. Young Mira struggled to shut down all the wild energy imparted by the lessons—and within her natural self—once she returned home. Strict silence had become a universal law of nature to her parents, and she was testing their most extreme limits. So they got suspicious, of course, but she figured out how to push it down, deep and far away. Later on, she kept her phone in the school’s locker, so she could walk to the studio untracked; after all, a good student doesn’t check their phone while studying. All the patterns and strategies became instinct.

Mira had thought the legitimate work with stellar grades would soften the blow if her parents caught up to her, and perhaps it did—turns out nine years of lies hit much harder. Both ways.

A laughing child had been on that ripped poster. The part Mira tore off removed everything above the child’s smiling mouth. She felt drawn to the half-head. It scratched an itch—the type that she couldn’t quite locate or describe.

The studio door opened.

“Mira?”

An older black-haired woman approached her. She was poised and professional; Mira was suspicious.

“I’m a friend of the instructor. My name is Celine. I manage HUNTR/X Entertainment.”

No reaction.

“Instructor Hwang has just gone to the bathroom. She’ll be back shortly. She talks about you a lot.”

Mira loosened a bit, almost imperceptible to the eye. She became a little less cautious, whether knowingly or not. At least she seems to be welcome in Hwang’s studio.

”Please come in. We three have much to discuss.”

Hwang had picked up on Mira’s home life and knew it was better not to pry; just let her dance. My God, could she dance. Mira thought back over the lessons over the years; they never did talk to each other beyond instruction and criticism. What could she want to discuss now? 

Celine started to look familiar. Has she been here this whole time, a part of this studio? This all seems a little too convenient. Mira had no other ideas coming to mind though, and she was curious about whatever this was. With nowhere else to go, she stepped inside and entered her new life.

Seojoon was certain that his parents were downstairs. If or when they weren’t, he would hear it. The false bottom of his drawer was exposed and ready to restore itself at a moment’s notice.

The debut single of HUNTR/X sat on the wooden bottom all alone, except for the miniature CD player and earbuds. His phone would have made this so much easier, but it already tracked and monitored him; it could ruin him, especially now. Plus, he was willing to take the risks from owning a permanent, physical disc. He didn’t admit why to himself.

After triple-checking that the earbuds were plugged in, he spammed the “Volume Down” button as he turned on the device. The disc began to spin, and he began to increase the volume.

The instrumental grew in one earbud, pumping life into his brain. The other earbud dangled freely in the air, leaving one ear exposed. The music could still barely be heard from the free earbud. Then his sister’s voice entered, along with two others that he didn’t recognize.

His heartrate shot up. He had never listened to music in the house, even on his regular phone, not even with earbuds. As for the music itself, he didn’t even know what to think. He couldn’t think; he only listened. He felt it. It was something. What was it? He felt it so much, but he couldn’t and wouldn’t acknowledge it.

I didn’t know Mira could sing like that.

The song eventually ended, and he replayed it, a little louder this time. Each time he increased it a little louder, stopping once the outside world started to feel a little too distant, even for him. Something pulsed inside—something raw and real. Seojoon knew what it was.

He wondered if Mira knew. Maybe she could relate. Regardless, he had lost his chance (chances?) to confirm a long time ago.

One listen led to another, and he easily had the song memorized. One of the many benefits of constructing a brain for cramming.

His exposed ear activated. He ripped the bud out of his other ear, flinging it into the drawer. The false bottom collapsed and an innocent sheaf of worksheets and folders took its place. The bedroom door opened.

Seojoon was already straightening a packet of loose paper and inserting it into the drawer when his mother greeted him.

“Have you finished studying? You have to get up a little earlier tomorrow to submit the award application. The portal opens early.”

“I know. I’m almost done,” he said, closing the incriminating drawer.

“Why are you stuffing so much in that drawer? Keep some of it outside, or put it in the other drawers.”

“It’s not that much.” Seojoon sat a little too still.

His mother’s face was a bizarre combination of indignation and conceit.

The CD player is still on—I need to keep talking. The earbuds were muffled by the wood and the items, like a repressed cry for help. But stay quiet enough and the distress call was deafening. Why did I crank up the volume so much?

“Can’t you put some of those folders on this shelf? Move these books aside, and everything fits nicely here.”

She pulled open the nuclear payload. Seojoon almost reacted when he heard the earbuds rattling gently and the false bottom wobbling. “See how cramped this is? It’s almost spilling out.”

“I organize it a certain way. It’s easier to access and flip through the pages—it’s right next to me this way,” Seojoon said, internally congratulating himself for the fantastic excuse. He could feel the sweat rolling down his back.

She turned to the bookcase. “Why is there so much stuff on the bottom shelf? You have to bend down so much. You can store clothes instead since you don’t have to check that constantly all day.”

Okay, she’s moved on from the drawer. Now we just roll with it.

They went back and forth a little more until she left.

“You have to sleep soon. I just wanted to discuss with you for a little.”

He waited until the house was silent. In the dead of night he reopened his wooden sanctuary and officially turned off the player. He left the disc inside, and he was off to bed. He slept the same way he did on every other night.

The mobster did not flinch. Unfortunately, Seojoon did.

When Seojoon came up short, he had to pay the price—a new price. It was 50 million won; now it was him and his business. Or rather, his father’s. His franchise had expanded under Seojoon who now folded under the mobster. Even with the goons restraining him and the fists assaulting him, he wondered how we would explain this to his father, the CEO.

The mobsters, who had entered under the guise of a joint business meeting, plundered the office and ousted the existing workers. Seojoon had paid them to keep this quiet from the CEO until he found a way out. There was no paying them out this time, even if he wanted to.

Seojoon was dragged outside, suit ripped and destroyed. It was raining. He was temporarily blinded by the night sky, his night vision not having adapted. How he longed for the lights inside the office. The warmth of his bedroom and his f—the security of his mindless, cushy job. A place where he could forget about… where he could just forget.

A second group of gloved mobsters emerged from the alley like shadows jumping dimensions and began their lecture. They concluded the lesson by slamming him down onto the sidewalk. One last kick to the head, and he was dismissed.

His cheek rested on the concrete. The pain radiated in his skull, and the puddle came up to his eyeball. With his body still immobilized, he hauled his head out of the water—it felt like lifting mountains. The thugs were nowhere to be seen; they had a schedule to follow, and Seojoon’s house was next. Rain was pounding hard now. His half-drenched hair became completely soaked. He stared into the lonely street ahead.

As he grounded himself, he couldn’t focus on anything besides the ringing in his ears, the raindrops battering the rooftops, and the distant hum of driving cars. He summoned the strength to push himself off the ground and stabilized in a kneeling position. He looked down. His bloodstained reflection in the puddle became clear; it insulted him.

He pulled his eyes away. His vision turned starry, and his head felt like it was melting in acid. His eyes refocused on the near-black sky: plain, unstimulating, cloudy, and star-less. Lightning struck in the distance, illuminated the skyline. The cold, sharp skyscrapers flashed a little brighter, with distant logos, lights, and windows still beaming in the sleepless night—the watchful eyes of guards in a heavenly prison. Eyes of shameful gods that wouldn’t spare more than a glance at Seojoon. He challenged their gazes anyway.

Thunder echoed in his ears. Lightning struck again. Against the backdrop of the black sky, the logo on the HUNTR/X tower flashed.

Chapter Text

It was one of those nights again. Mira’s eyes begged for salvation, and her mind refused. How long had she been doing this? She actually couldn’t remember. Perhaps it was after the Idol Awards, when she learned how fragile her found family had been. Perhaps she had always done it. Always hoping for an olive branch. Always hoping for a resolution that she could never initiate. Never show your weakness first. 

She shook her head, shut off her phone momentarily, and laid it down on the blanket, above her stomach. Celine’s old teachings always prickled their way inside her head, but at least the new Honmoon had made her much, much better at handling it. The three girls had made amends with Celine years ago, but she couldn’t help but feel an inkling of residual resentment for the lasting habits and mentalities.

She knew how to settle things, and she knew how to bridge gaps and reconcile—all stuff she started telling herself to calm down the intrusive thoughts ever since. Why couldn’t she put it into practice one more time?

The rain pelted the window. Once in a while, the room lit up from a lightning strike. The pitter-patter on the glass soothed Mira, though she loved the thunder more. Her chat-staring ritual almost felt comfortable. Even normal.

She turned to face the skyline. The wall of glass was like a portal to outside her cage. She wished she could phase through and fly away forever. Rumi probably could; it wasn’t fair.

She pulled her phone out and opened her messages. The bright screen outshined the twinkling windows in the distance.

The “2015” taunted her. She wanted to rip it out of the screen and wipe it away forever. She could do it, just not in the way she wanted. She fixated on the “2015,” trying to block the thought from her mind.

Her eyes looked away for a second, and they landed on a skyscraper off in the distance. She imagined her parents or Seojoon in one of those windows, sleeping and relaxing without a mere thought of her. She imagined them staring at their own phones.

Mira’s insides would have cringed into a black hole from that thought, if she hadn’t already numbed herself from weeks of sleeplessness.

The rain was coming down hard now, painting the glass with harsher and faster streaks of water. It became hard to see any clear shapes of buildings. It was then that she noticed her shoulder getting a bit sore and her eyes burning. She switched sides and closed her eyes for a few seconds. With the empty wall and dresser now occupying her entire field of vision, illuminated only by moonlight, she continued to stare.

She was close to dozing off, so she let her eyes droop closed for a few seconds. Then her hand gave out, and the phone fell on the bed.

Ding.

Uh.

She lay frozen for a while.

She lifted the phone back up.

She pressed the power button.

She narrowed her eyes in response to the light. Then they expanded like balloons.

Seojoon

Mira?

Ding.

Seojoon

Can we talk

Ding.

Mira slammed the phone on her nightstand, screen-down. She held it there for a few seconds, arm convulsing. Her heart pounded through her chest. An hour of drowsiness evaporated, and ten million scenarios and images ran through her mind.

This is not happening. This is not happening. Now?! He texts me now? After like ten years? What could he possibly want to talk about? No, don’t panic. This is good… Why is he texting now?!?!

Ding.

I’ve waited for this for so long. I can’t fucking stand this guy. There’s so much I want to say to him. Fuck you for abandoning me, Seojoon. What do I say? Do I respond now? I can’t, no, I won’t. Not right now. I miss him. Not now, the time is not right. I need to find the right words in just the right order. What do I do shitshitshitshit—

Maybe I shouldn’t answer. It’s too risky. There’s no risk, what the fuck Mira. I have to answer! Okay, what—what would he want to hear? I don’t fucking know. I’ll just let him talk. Oh no, what do I…

What if I just say what’s on my mind. He understands, right?

No, no he won’t.

I should say some of it.

No, I shouldn’t.

More tossing and turning continued, powering her infinite cycles of thought. But, like any infinite perpetual motion machine, her thoughts eventually slowed. She stopped shaking and sweating too. She stared at the ceiling instead, not moving a millimeter. The ideas and messages replayed in her mind until all the thoughts died down, either by choice or by repression, at which point her brain shut her down. She had lain awake until 4, again. At least her eyes were mostly unscathed this time.

When she woke up to the same sunrise and skyline as always, she avoided checking her phone. For 5 seconds. She looked at the missed notifications.

Seojoon

please

Seojoon

I miss you

She threw her phone back down on the nightstand. She got up and went to the dance studio in record time.

That night, she was still staring—at the unopened messages now.

Seojoon slumped in the booth and buried his face in his palms. I guess she doesn’t want to. He kept his face in the refuge of his hands, which muffled his half-sobs and where no one could see the swelling.

“Sir, we’re closing soon.”

As if on cue, right before the stress reached critical mass, he got an idea.

“Sorry.”

The last time Seojoon stepped foot in this restaurant was maybe 10 years ago. Or 15? Oh, what does it matter? It’s not like he’s ever going in there again. “Family dinner” was just a front for the masses. He recalled their friendly faces—facades that dissolved once the night was over. He could see a knowing look on Mira’s face as if they silently understood each other; his was just the same. They knew what was coming. It was just reality for them.

That face of hers was burned into his memory. All the years, all her hatred, and all his silence. Yeah, she must have hated him.

He peered inside the window. Or, he tried to; it was too bright out, and he could see almost nothing except himself and the surroundings in the reflection. The sun was painful, and it worsened the aches in his muscles which were baking. He barely made out the shapes of people—singles, couples, families, high schoolers, elders—eating and socializing.

In the middle of his exhausted haze, a tourist jumpscared him. He asked, in half-broken-half-excellent Korean, what this restaurant sold. Seojoon absent-mindedly responded and had never seen such an exaggerated bow. He snapped out of his trance once he heard the most genuine “thank you” in his life. A young girl with pink highlights walked out, and the tourist shuffled aside to make space then barged in like an excited child.

Where did the time go? Is it all my fault? It is, isn’t it?

He swept the thoughts into the corners of his mind and continued east along Bongeunsa Road. He passed another restaurant, one less frequented by the family. He felt nothing as he walked past, yet at the same time he could really go for a hot meal from there. Then he passed by a few gift shops and a dance studio. They were quaint and cozy. The shops had simple, dimly lit displays, and the studio had sun-faded, half-ripped advertisements dated twenty years ago. He would’ve thought they were shut down if not for the modest amount of people inside.

He crossed the street, still going the same direction. No more regular buildings. Now there stood the InterContinental COEX hotel. Just beyond that, the enormous exhibition center. He knew about the aquarium inside.

I wish me and Mira could go there together. Seojoon stopped and laughed at himself. Dude, what? She would fucking hate it. She would fucking ha—she fucking hates me.

He trudged onto the bridge to cross the river. Various flyers for the 2028 Idol Awards were plastered on a lamppost. Seojoon jerked his head to look; he could sense Mira’s ice-cold stare from anywhere. The skill formed when she was five years old. He noticed when he was seven and smarter than he let on; they both were. He walked past without stopping, but he felt an odd sensation inside his heart as he made eye contact with the ad.

After 30 minutes, his legs already wanted to give out, but he was close. He turned right to head south towards Olympic Rd. The HUNTR/X tower was now visible.

Chapter Text

Mira filled her coffee cup with her eyes closed. Every second of shut-eye was vital right now. Her life was a flip-flop between sleeping early to get up at 5 vs. sleeping at 5. She reopened her eyes to add some sugar then closed them again while walking to the couch. She sat rather stiffly, taking a sip every couple of seconds. Then she built up the strength to keep her eyelids up for a few seconds. Then a few more. And more.

With no one around, she decided to scroll on her phone a bit. She ate chips with one hand and used that hand’s pinky to scroll.

With no one around.

Mira switched to the Notes app. The early morning focus was starting—the kind that kicks in 20 minutes after you get up, no matter how sleepy you are. It activated enough inside her to start drafting.

what’s up

Fuck no.

hey

what is it?

No, something less casual.

yeah, we can talk…

Are you okay?

Hmm.

i miss you too

i’m so glad y

Nope, nope. Too much thinking. One of these oughta work. I’ll finish this later. I’ll text him, uh, after lunch.

“Hey Mira!”

Mira shot up and looked behind the couch.

“Hehe. Relax girl,” said Zoey. She pushed Mira back down on the cushions, laid her head on Mira’s shoulder, and snatched a single chip out of her bag. “Sooaurdauiongan?”

“What?”

“So, how are you doing?” Zoey asked, mouth no longer full.

Not this again. Mira forced the words, and they came out disoriented and turbulent. “I’m… Do you ever wish you could just… Sometimes I—”

Then Zoey, surprised by the apparent ease of Mira talking, interrupted.

“Mira, slow down,” she said, chuckling. “Talk to me.”

Mira sighed and pondered for a while. “I’m doing fine, but...” Damnit, just say it. “Have you ever wanted to… reach out? To an old friend?”

Mira panicked for an instant. She felt vulnerable, almost naked. She was talking too much. Talking too openly. She tacked on some casual-sounding gibberish to lessen her sudden character change.

“Just to see what happens, you know? For funsies.” What am I saying?

The question caused Zoey’s high school years to come flooding back to her. There had been a lot of old friends and “old friends” on her mind, but over the years they slowly faded from her memories. She didn’t have many demons left to pick (literally). Call it forgiveness or acceptance or something in between—it had been so long that she looked back on it with half-nostalgia and half-wistfulness. She just let it exist.

“Sometimes. Natural curiosity. It pops up from time to time. Never actually did it, though.”

“What’s stopping you?” Mira asked as Zoey stole another chip.

Zoey turned her head slightly and glanced at Mira. She shrugged. “No real need to reach out, I guess. It feels better knowing we’re all just living our lives, happy and all, even if we’re separated.”

I don’t like starting my morning like this. Why did I say anything?

“Why risk unsettling that which is settled? It’s, well, it’s not satisfying but it’s something similar like tha—am I making sense?”

Mira reconsidered her texts. Maybe it’s better if we just let this die out. Just go our separate ways. Yeah, I don’t need you Seojoon. You would never understand me anyway… No. You could understand me.

She checked her phone, keeping the screen out of Zoey’s view. She reread the unread notifications.

“Yeah, you’re making sense.” Mira said.

Zoey nudged Mira’s arm, did an awkward sort of side-snuggle hug, scrubbed her hair into Mira’s cheek, and got up to leave. Mira was always confused by that, but secretly loved it—Zoey’s bizarre attempts at physical affection, as if she was allergic to normal hugs. Mira caught herself staring. Don’t think it. She mentally admonished Zoey for being so annoying. Annoying. Annoying Zoey. Annoyingly…

She reacquired her focus and picked up her chip bag. It was empty.

“Zoey!”

Whatever. After lunch time, Mira reminded herself.

Seojoon

I miss you

Read 14:38

Zoey suspected Mira was hiding something with the way she kept checking her phone at odd, contorted angles. Then there was the slightly intense conversation from so early in the morning. The phone checking had started then; it wasn’t often, and it usually happened when the three girls were in the midst of whatever shenanigans they started. It broke her social flow state, but she feigned ignorance. Mira did not need that sort of attention right now.

By the end of the day, Zoey was certain Mira was hiding something. Actually, Mira and Rumi. Both of them, secrets? Considering their history together—all three of them—it terrified her. Confused her. They could not afford to undo all their progress now. Maybe I should talk to Mira more directly about all this. She needs space, but not like this. And what in the world is Rumi doing?

She had a nasty habit of eavesdropping through the door. Just a few seconds, she justified to herself. She could hear Rumi behind the door—Mira’s door.

Huh? What the?! What are they up to?

She listened a little longer but couldn’t make out any clear words. She could, however, hear giggling.

Giggling?

Dread and something that felt like but definitely was not jealousy boiled inside her.

She grounded herself back to earth with techniques she developed ever since Gwi-ma invaded her mind years ago and almost won. Even with no real demon threat anymore, she found it useful for a multitude of situations.

Better get back to my room and relax. Can’t get caught with my ear up to the door. It’s probably nothing anyway.

Behind the door, the conversation had continued.

“Rumi, she’s not gonna—it’s not gonna work.”

“Come on, just trust me.”

“We were supposed to be finalizing the itinerary of our tour! It’s so late now.”

“This’ll be super quick, then we’ll go to sleep. Aren’t you at least a little curious to see her reaction?”

“Holy crap, fine. For the record, I’m satisfying your curiosity so I can go back to bed,” Mira said, failing to hide her laughter. Then she pulled out her phone.

Meanwhile, Zoey had changed into some pajamas and sunk into her bed. A deep breath came out. Time for some reels!

5 minutes or 5 hours passed.

Ding.

Hm? Oh no.

Mira

hey zoeyyyyyy 🥺

My God, this is the opposite of what I need.

Mira

me and rumi need your help with something!!

What.

Mira

PLZ

Zoey abandoned the sanctity of her bed and walked out. She stared at Mira’s door and contemplated her life choices. She turned the handle on Mira’s door, and with that she signed her death warrant.

Behind the door, Mira sat on her bed cross-legged, arms propping her up. Her muscular arms were eye-catching and fully exposed thanks to her cropped tank top. Her abs were also on full display, and the lamp on her dresser was coincidentally aimed right at them. They glowed like and burned like the sun. Mira’s hair was let down all the way, falling behind her in a long, glorious waterfall, though some locks landed forward on her top. Her perfectly dewy skin and symmetrical curves continued down her torso, until it was hidden again by a short slit skirt. Out of that came her shimmering legs, plump and long and—

“Uh, Zoey?”

Zoey was hunched forward, just inches away from Mira’s skin. She wiped the drool from her unconscious, sultry grin before snapping out of her hypnosis mid-wipe. Then Mira broke.

“Bahahahaha, ahahahah! I’m—I’m—I’m so, ahahahaha, hahaha, AHAHAHAHA! I’m so sorry I doubted you, Rumi!”

“I told you so! She would be so into it!” Rumi fell out of Mira’s beanbag chair and was slamming the rug with her fist.

Zoey was lucid now. She sprung up, standing straight, pretending like she didn’t just wipe the rest of the saliva off her mouth.

“What the?! Where did you—”

“Oh, this? This is what happens when your brain is fried from all those YouTube shorts! Hey, you’re drooling again. Guess you can’t stop ogling me now, can you, freak?” Mira smirked and adjusted her pose.

“I was not ogling! I was just, uh, surprised. And thinking about what to say!”

Then the words echoed in Zoey’s mind. “I’m so sorry I doubted you, Rumi!”

“Hey, wait a minute! So this was your idea?!” she cried, pointing at Rumi.

Rumi pulled herself back up and onto the beanbag, arms clutching her stomach. “Guilty as charged,” she said, out of breath.

“Since when—hey, no, I’m the prankster here!” Zoey retorted, squirming a little.

Rumi ignored the rebuttal. “Okay, okay Mira. We can—” She heaved. “We can call it a night now. I’m more than satisfied! Zoey, you’re free to gahahahaha—”

Mira shared Rumi’s laughter and stood up to make the most exaggerated stretch of all time. She made sure to pop out her legs and abs in full view of Zoey. “I don’t think this one’s satisfied,” she said, staring Zoey down.

“Mira—pfff—no!” Rumi shrieked and fell out of the chair again while kicking the air like a hyperactive child.

Zoey stood still, unable to speak. Mira had aura-farmed in front of her, and Rumi’s laughter showed no signs of slowing down. Zoey was fuming underneath; she wanted to scream.

“I’m… getting some air,” she said.

Rumi’s giggling calmed down after that. “But it’s raining,” she said with a little hesitation.

The door slammed shut. All the laughter evaporated.

Rumi and Mira exchanged a glance. Their smiles faded. Rumi nodded and walked back to her room, an unspoken agreement having formed and dominating the air between them—we’ll finish this in the morning.

Mira grabbed a jacket from the edge of the bed and chased after Zoey. She slipped into it while speedwalking towards the balcony, where Zoey had already stepped out. Mira paused for a second, opened the door and took in the cold, fresh air.

“Zoey?”

Zoey had her arms draped over the railing, head pointed down a little. Her hair was already starting to droop from the rainwater. She didn’t respond to her name at first. She just turned around to look at Mira for a second before turning back to look down at the Seoul skyline.

“Hey,” she said, flat and monotone.

Mira walked up, getting sprinkled by rain, and stood next to Zoey. Half a meter separated them. Mira rested her arms similarly on the railing on Zoey’s left. The water soaked her sleeves a little. She admired the skyline too, aimlessly eyeing random buildings while searching for something to say. She looked through her peripheral vision to try to gauge Zoey’s emotions. Damn, can’t see the eyes or mouth.

Mira inched a little closer. No reaction. A little more, then more, and more. They were shoulder-to-shoulder now. Zoey hadn’t moved or flinched.

Good sign, I think. Of course it’s good; we’ve always been this close. Oh wait, I guess this is different. Hmm. That’s a funny looking building. Shit, what do I say now?

The wind bellowed at this altitude; their hair whipped around while rain pelted them. After admiring the same skyscraper for the tenth time, Mira summoned the words.

“I’m not weirded out, by the way.”

The rain kept falling, the only voice truly present in the conversation.

“Zoey, I, I’m sorry if—”

“I guess you know now,” she interrupted.

“Know what?” Mira asked.

“That I have feelings for you.”

No. No no no.

The words, the raw honesty—it struck Mira like a meteor impact. It could not be true; it was a stupid prank, and Zoey’s reaction was just gut instinct. It didn’t reveal anything about her feelings. It was nothing.

It was something. Something they’d been denying: the way they looked at each other, avoided just the right conversation topics, and cuddled in just the right positions. Not too close, not too far. An in-between phase of accepting and not accepting what they felt. A compromise between addressing and suppressing their desires.

How long had it lasted? Years? Mira thought back to Zoey’s shit-eating grins, where the corners of her mouth and eyes stretched just enough to indicate something genuine underneath the teasing. Then there was the odd but familiar closeness that lingered in the air whenever they were near each other: in silence, or doing each other’s makeup, or indulging in Zoey’s doomscrolling. Then that painful longing that pushed on the walls of her heart everytime they really could not agree on something or when she took a joke a little too far.

After an eternity, she took Zoey’s hand and held it. She took her right shoulder too, turning her so they faced each other. Zoey’s eyes shot open, and they met each other’s gaze. It was dark out, but their eyes glowed like stars.

Zoey recoiled a tiny bit, looked away, then looked back at Mira, whose expression was gentle, flattered, and comforting. She moved her hand off Zoey’s shoulder to cup her cheek. Zoey relaxed her posture a little before taking a step closer. When their bodies collided, she reached up to pinch Mira’s cheek a little. Mira let out a single, tiny, amused giggle, and Zoey smiled ever so delicately. She tippy-toed up to wrap her arms around Mira’s shoulders.

In the rain, they kissed.

The warmth of each other made them forget the pouring water. The fullness, the comfort, the heat traveled from their lips down to their hearts. It surged underneath them, and they pulled each other in a little closer. After they released their lips with a single pop, Zoey opened her eyes.

Zoey saw herself in the reflection of the mirror. She had retreated to the bathroom. Again. Laughter boomed beyond the door, while overpowering party music was blasting down the walls. Before the door swung back to a close, she overheard the conversation continuing.

“—she really? No way that happened!”

“No, she actually is into her like that! Like, for real!”

“Hahaha, oh my God, ahahahaha! Can you believe that frea—”

Click.

The mirror taunted her. She stared at her own dead eyes—a revolting contrast against her aqua green dress. She wanted to reach into the glass and pulverize her disgusting face. The smell of piss, bleach, and pink bathroom soap invaded her nose; that was not a good time to take a deep breath.

It’s okay. I just need…

Her mind blanked. She scoffed at her own reflection. Senior prom, she mocked. Why the fuck do I—

Click.

The intermittent clearness of the laughter caused a sharp sting in her chest. When the door settled and everything muffled again, she turned to see Kaitlyn leaning against the paper towels with her arms crossed.

“Zoey?”

“Hey,” Zoey said, voice empty. “I think I’m just gonna head home.” So this is how it ends.

It was their last year together, and Zoey had been outed at home. They both knew this was the end—their last moment together. Despite that revelation, Zoey was fixating on the cracks on the floor tiles. Then she realized Kaitlyn wrapped around her in a warm embrace.

“Zoey, I need to know you’ll be okay.”

She didn’t answer at first. Her eyes wandered some more—the air dryer, a tiny clump of soap suds, the scratched up hand plate on the door. She let herself melt in Kaitlyn’s arms for a minute. Then she pushed back a little, releasing herself, and her eyeliner-smudged eyes rose to meet her girlfriend’s one last time. She gave her a rueful smile.

Zoey opened her eyes. She gave Mira a rueful smile. “Let’s get out of the rain.”

They dried themselves, changed, and fell in bed together. It felt different this time. Deeper. Fuller. Zoey’s mind wandered a bit after she settled her head under Mira’s chin, taking in everything that had transpired. A long conversation followed. They talked and talked and talked. What didn’t they talk about? A new form of intimacy took shape, intangible yet they felt it enveloping, energizing, connecting their hearts.

The room fell still. They lost themselves in their thoughts, enjoying each other’s presence. A quiet understanding emerged between them, that this was real.

Mira looked out Zoey’s window. The night stars peppered the sky, and the skyscrapers with all their little windows shined. For once, Mira was shining back.

Zoey’s thoughts were interrupted.

“Zoey, you’re not mad about the prank, right? It’s okay if you are!”

“Oh, yeah.” Zoey paused. “Yeah, don’t worry about it.”

“Are you sure?” Mira let out a fearful breath. “I’m so sorry if I embarassed you too hard, ‘cause if—”

“No, Mira, it’s okay. Let’s just forget about it and sleep.”

Zoey turned to give Mira a quick kiss, who then squeezed Zoey’s hand a little tighter in silent acknowledgement. Zoey’s heart still ached a little, but at least Mira was here. She had the feeling that won’t be changing soon.

“Hey Zoey?”

Zoey yawned and croaked. “Yeah?”

“One last thing. Are—are you okay?”

I should be the one asking you, Mira.

“Like, not just us. I mean, with everything.”

“I’ll be okay, Kathy.”

Kaitlyn gave an affirming grin. They shared one last look at each other—one that lingered a little too long. She gave one final nod and wiped away a few tears as she turned around and left. Zoey’s smile dissolved into nothing when the door shut for good, closing this chapter of her life.

Thank God she bought that.

Zoey looked back at her lifeless reflection. She basked in the bathroom ambience, where euphoric music bombarded her empty, impenetrable bubble. A bubble full of air yet she was drowning. One little door separated her and the dance floor—her and Kaitlyn—but happiness never felt so far away.

“I’m okay, Mira.”

She smiled at Zoey’s answer and pulled her in a little tighter.

“Good,” Mira said, trying not to sound broken. I’m so glad you’re here.

“I love you, Mira.”

With that, Mira let herself relax and forget.

“Love you too.”

The midnight slumber soon took them.

Chapter Text

Mira was lying in bed, back-to-back with Zoey. She scrolled between the handful of text messages that she drafted the previous day. Sunlight was peeking through the blinds, and some of it glimmered on Zoey’s face. Mira knew it wasn’t time to stare. It was time to act. At least, she thought so.

Coward. Can’t send one fucking text message.

She regretted opening her notes app. She wanted to turn back the clock to last night, when she had forgotten her cowardice, when her world, for a moment, was just Zoey.

With a deep breath, she chose a message and copy and pasted it into the chat with Seojoon. Her thumb shuddered right over the send icon. She knew she put it off long enough. It felt right. It was right. Send it, send it, send it, send it, just send it!!! Send it, send—

“Morning,” said Zoey.

Mira’s thumb dashed to the power button instead. Really hope Seojoon doesn’t see the 3 typing dots. She held the phone tightly in her hand.

“Hey. Morning,” Mira said through a fake yawn.

Mira turned her head to meet Zoey, who was already facing Mira.

“I saw that!”

FUCK.

“What’cha lookin’ at?”

Oh. Phew. You saw me turn it off.

“Nothing. I was just, uh, looking up—you know, we should find a place. For like, a date. We have time before the—”

Zoey’ sleepiness evaporated. “Oh my god, yes!!! Finally!” She suffocated Mira in a tight hug, and her cheek smashed into Mira’s head. “Oh my god, oh my god, oh my god, I’m so excited! Where do you wanna go? It’s gotta be romantic, but also, like, adorable and fun!”

She sat up, criss-crossed. “Somewhere that screams, ‘this is who we are!’ You know what I mean?”

What? No. Oh. Yeah, I do. Mira sighed. “The aquarium.”

Zoey engulfed Mira in her arms again. “Yes, yes, yes! Pretty please, can we go there? How about the COEX aquarium? It’s nearby, but we gotta disguise ourselves EVEN more heavily, so Bobby doesn’t get a PR nightmare ‘cause I mean, we are dating now, I guess. Ooh, it’ll be like those spy movies that Rumi loves!”

Mira chuckled. Zoey’s energy filled the part of her heart that she couldn’t express, couldn’t build or develop, couldn’t feel. “Okay. The aquarium it is,” she sighed, now frowning a little.

A small, uneasy suspicion grew inside Zoey. Mira never showed much emotion anyway, but if they were going to build a relationship, Zoey was not letting any miscommunication or emotional suppression happen (again).

“Is something wrong?” Zoey asked.

“No, it’s—I’m fine. I’d love the aquarium. It’s just that everything is… it’s a lot, and it’s all sinking in right now,” Mira said with a nervous laugh. She was still gripping her phone, thumb on the power button.

“Oh, no, yeah! We’ll take this one step at a time, okay?” Zoey laid back down to snuggle into Mira’s arms and massaged her free hand.

“Whatever you need. I’m just glad you’re here now. With me. Like this.”

Something in Mira awakened.

“N-no, I’m not just talking about us. I…”

Her neck and ears flared with heat. Her breath became sharp. Her vision zoomed in.

“My brother texted me. A few days ago.”

Zoey froze. Mira avoided talking about her parents. But she never, ever talked about her brother. She had pieced together her story from the small remnants she did share. “Story” was pushing it; she knew they weren’t on speaking terms. That was it.

Now her brother was back? And she and Zoey just started a new relationship? This was too many bombshells.

Zoey went back to massaging Mira’s hand.

No wonder you’ve been so closed off recently. “Wow. That is a lot,” she managed to say.

She always felt awkward when she gave generic reassurance, but with the lack of information and the sheer impossibility of acquiring such from Mira either willingly or unwillingly, she proceeded to give it anyway.

“You can get through this, and not alone this time. We can get through this together.”

The words soothed Mira in places that she thought had rotted or shriveled away. They met eyes, and she smiled. Not a wide one, but a content one—the kind of smile when she had so much love that she wished she could show. The kind of smile that said “thank you for just being here.”

Why had she put this off for so long?

They slept in for another hour. Nothing was in their universe except each other.

Mira noticed odd tapping noises. Of course: Zoey was playing on her phone. She loved her little phone addict. Takes one to know one, she realized. She opened her eyes and turned around to see an engrossed Zoey lying on her back. She put her hand on Zoey’s chin and guided her head up for a quick kiss. They didn’t move their heads upon release. Zoey’s wide eyes took up most of Mira’s vision.

“You know, when you’re up this close, you look like one of those strawberry squids.”

Zoey pulled apart and stared Mira down in evil fascination.

“Oh my God, so you were paying attention?!”

Shit! “Um, no, Rumi wanted to go to bed, so we turned off the documentary, and that animal was—uh, that animal happened to be on screen, and there was a label in the corner with the name, and humans tend to remember the last—”

“Mira.”

Mira leaned in and hushed her voice. “I’ll make sure that we see all the turtle exhibits and I’ll buy you all the turtle plushies if you don’t tease me right now and if you never mention this ever again to anyone.”

Zoey giggled. “Deal!”

Mira’s quiet facade broke apart, and she started laughing with Zoey. They cuddled closer into each other’s arms. “You’re so annoyingly cute,” Mira said.

Rumi was nowhere to be found. She texted, saying she would be out “doing stuff” all day, so Mira and Zoey curled up on the couch. They surmised that she just wanted an excuse to give them space, and they wondered how Rumi would have reacted to all this. At least they’ll know tonight.

Then in the late afternoon, Mira’s phone rang. Her recent good mood swung the other way, and she suspected the worst case scenario of who it might be. She felt the relief of 10,000 months of couch when she saw the screen.

“Hi Bobby!”

“Hi! Hi Mira! Zoey, is that you? Hey! Oh, Mira! Minsoo from the costume department needs to see you. 8th floor help desk. It’s urgent.”

Zoey and Mira looked at each other, and Zoey shrugged.

“Be there in 1 minute, Bobby.”

Mira hated to leave Zoey right now, but despite everything this morning, it was a slow day. She could use a little distraction.

Chapter Text

“I don’t see an appointment on file.”

“Are you sure? There must be some mistake. Maybe, uh, the—just tell her it’s urgent, then check again, while we’re waiting.”

“I can’t guarantee if she’ll see you,” the receptionist said, sounding a little too chipper but with a twang of sympathy. “She’s not one to meet random fans, no matter how ‘urgent’ it is.”

Oh, I’m not a fan. No, don’t say that. “That’s okay.” I’ll wait all day if I need to.

The receptionist maintained his eyes on Seojoon for a second, then returned his attention to his computer and typed away. Meanwhile, Seojoon sat down in an easy chair. He looked around aimlessly, taking in the sheer size of the lobby. He was alone in it, and he felt small. Very small. It wasn’t even the ground floor lobby, and it was still grander than anything he had seen before.

He was almost distracted by the decor when the elevator chimed. Then a voice called out, and an unforgettable blob of pink hair emerged from behind the back wall of the reception. That hair—it felt so familiar, yet now it was so foreign.

Seojoon looked away.

“Hey Bobby, where is this Minsoo that I need to—”

Mira felt like she had dropped dead. Her body straightened, her shoulders stiffened. The world in front of her shrunk. Eyebrows rose up to her scalp as fast as her heartbeat. It felt like her eyes were bulging out their sockets.

Mira stared for a minute.

Seojoon turned to her and stood up, trying not to look too serious or combative. He struggled to make eye contact.

“Mira? You don’t have to say anything. I just had to see you.”

The lobby air became freezing, but Mira’s skin was boiling. Her brain was in overdrive. She didn’t move. She took in the sight of Seojoon. Her brain neurons fired on all cylinders yet went nowhere until the randomness began to settle.

I wanted to see you too. “Why?!” she burst out.

Mira recoiled at her own harshness. She covered her mouth with a hand. She wished she could just teleport her feelings into his brain—every thought, emotion, and idea that she had had over the past few days. She gauged Seojoon’s reaction: nothing. Still, she was too embarrassed to apologize.

“I needed a change. I needed to change.”

Is it just about you, Seojoon? She, a little gentler this time, asked “Change what?” 

He looked in every direction except at her, sighing and fidgeting and scratching his neck. Pushing each word out felt like pushing planets out of orbit. “My life, it just… wasn’t mine. I want it back.” I want you back in it. “And I want… what I left behind.”

Does this guy only talk in riddles? I suppose I would too. She ruminated. It was time for a leap of faith. “How are you? Do you need—”

He stuttered, “We don’t—you don’t have to do anything. Just, I—” he let out a broken but sharp exhale. “Fuck.” She’s gonna walk away, isn’t she?

I’m so sorry, Seojoon. “Why now?” she murmured.

“Uh, because… It’s not important,” he lied. Oh, yes it is. His breath became sharper and more erratic. Come on, just say it.

“Why did it take you until now to come back?” Mira, no. Don’t do this to him.

“Because I’m—” A coward. “I’m, uh, I didn’t, I, I—” he hesitated, voice unstable and hands erratic, appearing as if he was about to cover his ears.

“What?!” she snapped. Mira, stop!

Out came an avalanche. “I’m sorry, okay?!” He looked Mira in the eyes now. “I’m sorry I didn’t do anything when you were kicked out, I’m sorry I didn’t call or text until now, and I’m sorry I never stood up for you!” He grimaced from the guilt and fought back tears. The decades of walls around their hearts crashing down didn’t help. He wrapped his arms around his waist like he had a stomach ache, and dropped his head in shame.

Mira had never even heard him say this many words about anything, much less in one sitting.

Seojoon started to appear more alien than Rumi did on that fateful night.

“That’s what I… Look, I’m not trying to force you to help me or anything. I’m not looking for a place either, if that’s what you’re wondering. I wanted to—” He stopped and took a deep breath, trying to make it quick and not obvious. His arms fell to his sides, hanging freely. He shut his eyes and considered his next sentence.

You don’t need me, but—

“Please,” his voice broke. “Can we start over?” He opened his eyes again and looked at his feet.

—I need you.

Mira blinked. She had her answer already.

No.

The word didn’t come out. The lobby grew twenty sizes, then another twenty.

Their decade-deep chasm stood between them now, imposing and unavoidable. An eternity of silence filled it, and they couldn’t run this time—not when the proverbial olive branch that they both secretly wanted was up for grabs. There was a subconscious agreement permeating the still air between them. It anchored them to whatever physical or emotional connection still persisted, and it ordered them to wait until the universe decided it was over.

Every unspoken thought that they ever had was exposed and being exchanged; their souls felt it. For a single, silent, ironic minute, they said more to each other than they ever had before.

Why can’t I let him in now? Mira wasn’t sure how long she stayed quiet, because eventually Seojoon just turned to leave. I guess love never comes easily.

She watched him walk all the way to the elevator while he tried to appear resolute. When he reached for the button, two other arms came between his arms and waist, then pulled him in. His posture loosened on instinct and he gave in. He felt Mira’s hair spilling over part of his back, her chin melting into his shoulder, and her cheek pushing against his ear. The floodgates opened. They cried and cried, like they wished they had all those years ago.

They held hands and stayed like this for a good while.

He pushed out the words at last. “I need you.”

“I’m sorry I didn’t text back,” Mira whispered. I’m sorry I never called or texted before, either. “Please don’t leave. Don’t leave now.”

He turned around and relinquished himself into a full embrace. “I won’t.”

The receptionist desk was empty.

Oh, thank goodness. He wasn’t here. He didn’t see.

Hard pause.

Where is he then?

Mira looked around. She checked behind her. What the fuck am I doing? This is my tower. She slid behind the counter and sauntered toward the computer screen. A browser was open to some emails. She kept still and took in the other browser tabs.

Inbox (84,151) - hunt

twice new song - Goo

weather - Google Sea

ChatGPT

Book Reservation | K

huntrix mira family -

huntrix mira brother

Jin Seojoon - Wikipe

Mira sighed. Thanks, Bobby.

Mira stood outside the restaurant. The summer sun was setting but still warm. The hot air hugged her, and her heart felt fluffy. It calmed down the palpitations she was having about her reunion with Seojoon.

When she noticed him coming down the sidewalk, she turned to face him. As he grew closer, Mira wanted to give him a genuine smile for possibly the first time in her life. Her face muscles resisted and begged. The idea felt like exposing herself to a stranger, or freely revealing her greatest weaknesses to Gwi-ma. Like switching personalities for your family. She had done that before—why not now?

Seojoon returned the smile.

Inside, there were not many people. Ideal conditions—enough to blend in, not enough to feel drowned out, crowded, or bombarded. They acted on social autopilot as the waiter seated them, and then they were left alone. A decade of walls and a canyon of distance—all of it reduced into a table. Mira had spent the day saying phrases and asking questions that she had never really said to anyone before. What’s one more?

“So.” Deep breath. “For real this time. How are you?”

Seojoon thought for a moment and let out an amused exhale. “Bad.” He peered off into the window and the street. He met Mira’s eyes then looked down at the table. When Mira didn’t respond, he perked his head up and asked, “You?”

“I’m okay,” she said, after a second. Her eyes were focused on Seojoon’s arms, neck, the chair, his shirt, and anything else that let her avoid eye contact. “I just… I just have so much to say, but I’m not saying anything.”

Seojoon gave her a bittersweet grin. As he thought of something to break the ice, Mira got it out anyway.

“What have you been up to? Anything happen after I left?” There were so many times over the past few years when I wish you could have been there.

“Uhh. Nothing.” I bought—and hid—every single one of your songs, and every night I secretly listened to them on repeat until my ears hurt. “No, seriously. Nothing. Come home, study, eat something, do whatever they say, repeat.” On one of those nights, I cried for the first time. “Same crap you had to do every day.”

Mira had a wistful look of understanding. One that said “yeah, that figures.” One that said “I know, and I feel you.” One that said “bullshit.”

Seojoon returned the question. “Are you healthy? Happy?”

Happy. Happy. Happy. HAPPY.

HAPPY.

“I’m well. Sorta. Rumi loves getting us takeout way too often,” she said dryly.

“Purple-haired one. Lead singer. Pretty tattoos. Right?”

“Yeah,” she answered with a little bounce this time.

“I thought Zoey would be the takeout girl.”

A high-pitched chuckle broke out of Mira. They didn’t say anything after that; they just smiled hard. And they stayed that way.

The fortress walls were finally collapsing.

They both fidgeted with their fingers, but this time they looked in each other’s eyes and saw a glowing remnant of that long lost sibling they grew up with.

For a minute, Seojoon just felt like an old friend, like he fit perfectly into place, as if Mira’s heart was an unfinished jigsaw puzzle that she gave up on.

Mira wasn’t sure what to ask at this point. She was almost certain that their father’s business wasn’t an attractive topic, but they came here to catch up, which meant addressing the hard topics eventually. At the risk of souring their moment, she asked.

Please don’t get mad. “Are you still working for dad?”

I wish I never did. “No,” he said, laughing a little. “I… wish that I had left earlier.”

Please show me the real you that I never got to know. “What did you want to do?”

I haven’t said these words in over 10 years. “I wanted to go to the conservatory.”

Oh. Ouch.

“You can imagine how mom and dad reacted when I tried telling them. My piano teacher was preparing me, and I didn’t have the heart to tell him the truth. Never really did.” Fucking coward. “I just stopped showing up one day.”

“All I really remember about you was you playing. Added some color to my damn life, until, well, you remember, I’m sure.”

Seojoon suddenly had a very bright grin. “I’m glad.” I secretly learned all the songs that you used to sing in the shower as a kid.

“I hope you haven’t stopped playing.”

“Oh, I did. But not anymore.” I learned how to play every single HUNTR/X song too.

The sun had set when the food came out. The sky was dark, and only the small ceiling lights lit up their table and faces. Mira could see his facial features a lot more clearly now. He had her chin and her eyes, but his own nose. He clearly had her brain too; she predicted exactly what he ordered.

In between eating, silence arose.

“I’m sorry I never texted or called,” Mira said. “I, uh—”

Seojoon held his hand up, and Mira stopped. “I’m sorry too.”

“I’m just glad you’re here now,” she said. He responded the same.

A new kind of love had grown. The dinner was a unique kind of peaceful. They talked some more, and it wasn’t a resolution, but it was clarity, even if just for an hour. It was the feeling of laying on a grassy hill, where the breeze seems to linger for too long, where you’re stargazing on a warm night even though you have school the next day.

He was back. She was back. And maybe they would be alright.

At the end of the meal, she noticed one of the patrons in the corner had comically large glasses and clearly purple hair tucked inside a pink hoodie. Mira narrowed her eyes at her and the man with her, who had extremely dark sunglasses and a strange, oversized hat. Seojoon, oblivious, stood up and nudged Mira toward the exit.

The cool air washed over them as the familiar and inviting street greeted them.

They strolled out into the night.